The time has come, my friend, to talk of many things...

"The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun" -Chris McCandless

It is true that each day there is a new and different experience, another challenge to confront, another mountain to climb. And it does often seem like I am living under a different sun than the one that rises and sets in Texas. Some days, I feel the joy intensely, and other days I have to search deep within to find the joy. But there is always the adventure.

As of Friday, I will have been living for three months in Honduras. 87 days as of today. In 33 days, I will be on a plane to Dallas. There are 2 more school days left in this week. 2 days of parent conferences. And then another sacred 2-day weekend. Living in Honduras has turned me into a number-crunching freak.

Last week dragged on, not quite as bad as the week before, but definitely feeling the deflation of the post-Halloween, post-Mom visit. I did enjoy some small pleasures of life, including the contents of the 2 big care packages from Mom, and 3 free meals out, since Jeff's generous dad was in town visiting, and also some kind engineer men who were prepping some work for a return trip in February. We discovered the wonders of the Auto Pollo, a delectable rotisserie chicken place on the highway that serves half and whole chickens. I wish I'd had my camera so I could take a photo of the bonfire-sized stack of fire wood they had out front. If they need that much firewood to roast all those chickens, then we wonder where they get the chickens. They tasted a lot better than the chickens that peck around the highway look. Friday afternoon we headed to the University for the Friday soccer game. Bridget and I were walking down the highway, trying to avoid these 2 guys who stopped to (we thought) ogle and throw out some choice comments at us gringas. It took a while to realize that it was Tony and William, technicians who work for OAF, and they were asking us if we wanted a ride. You just get so conditioned here, you forget that some guys are actually nice and genuinely friendly. We played a kick-ass game of soccer, since it was just Tony, William, Fran and the gringos. For once I felt like I could get close to the ball without fear that a Honduran would knock me down with it. I almost scored a goal at one point! Of course we spent more time laughing over our fumbles and failed goal-attempts (Jeff had this wicked kick that kept yielding left of the goal, and most of our goals were scored during unguarded moments when the goalie was otherwise preoccupied). Fran and Tony were on my team, and Fran kept yelling "Flaco! Flaco!" to get Tony's attention (since they were the only two really capable of driving the ball down the field and scoring a goal). I got so used to it I almost yelled out Flaco! to Tony (it means skinny, so kind of a name-calling term of endearment). We finished off the night back home with huge plates of fried potatoes and onions, eggs, tortillas, and watermelon. The watermelon keep getting smaller here. The last one we cut was about the size of a grapefruit, and they don't taste that great. Fortunately the piñas at La Dispensa never go out of season, and the mandarins are getting better.

Saturday was cleaning, laundry, grading day. Angela, Dan, and I picked up more Auto Pollo for dinner and headed over to Jackie's huge empty dorm at the convent for a game of Spanish Scrabble. It was a tough set-up, very tight game, but I turned out in 2nd place. We had to walk home about 3 miles, since taxi drivers here are lame and don't work past 8, especially on Saturdays. I guess they need their time off to party, but really, it is sort of limiting to those of us without cars.
Sunday we piled into Mario's truck and headed to his home town, San Francisco de la Paz, to see the parish farm where he works and tutoring school where he tutors English. We went to church at his home church, met his mom, dad, several brothers, and numerous primos (cousins)... everyone in this small town knows Mario, so he was constantly waving out the window and shouting "Vemos", then grinning over to us, "more primos." We watched a community league soccer game, since two of his 11 siblings play on different teams. Nothing quite like sitting in the wooden stands at a Honduran soccer match, eating tacos and naga tamales, sipping Coke from a straw, and listening to the rowdy drunken cheers of Honduran men enjoying the national sport and pastime. As always, a couple of kids were clinging to us (literally, this girl came up and was practically hugging my leg)... seeking hand outs from the gringos. They watched our every move, and at one point the girl was so bold as to ask for 5 lemps (after Jackie had bought her an ice cream, and she'd been sucking on various other sweets she'd bought at the concessions). It's just part of the experience here, I guess. Leaving San Francisco that afternoon, flying freely down the best paved road in Honduras, the windows down and The Eagles blaring from Mario's speakers, "Take it easy, take it easy..." I felt like I really could. Enjoying the autumn afternoon sunshine glinting off the rolling low mountains of Olancho, the little ranch houses with their chickens, cows, and pigs out front... I could almost have been in a pick up cruising down 281 in the Hill Country. Except that my Honduran friend was driving, and I had to get back to my un air-conditioned house to finish grading stacks of papers and prepare for another week teaching 2 classes full of ESL students. The weekend was over way too soon. But with each day that I head into, that's one day less I will have to experience, and Christmas will be one day closer.

I will have to wait for Dan to update his blog so you can see pictures of San Francisco, as I did not have my camera with me that day. For now, I will leave you with some giggles, little moments of hilarity in my long, sometimes arduous days teaching ESL.

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Just another day in Honduras… so we get home this afternoon and the power’s out. Lacey and Bridg came over for a cat nap and girl time before Intercambio (we begged Sonia to come to our house instead, since Jeff and his dad were inviting us to dinner at La Fonda). So we sat in the dark and Sonia read Click, Clack, Moo! to our uproarious laughter, as she cracked up over the duck, the “neutral army” and the cows who would not give milk—“beeg teets, no es bueno”… nothing quite like a Costa Rican veterinarian reading Click, Clack Moo!

Today Mao was the only kid in tutoring, so we were doing one on one review for his English recuperation exam tomorrow. I was trying to get him to give examples of the word “thing”: marker, desk chair, paper, book, etc. He finally caught on, and started shouting various classroom components: “Chair! Book! Marker! Paper! I love you Miss! Desk! Pencil!” ?? “Mao, no, “I love you Miss!” is not a thing. You need to name objects only.”

Oscar, on writing sentences with helping verbs: “Mario plays with his doll.”
“Uh, Oscar, what do you mean by this sentence? Mario is playing with a baby doll? A muñeca?”
“Oh, no Meez. He is playing with his man-doll. His little man.”
“You mean like an action figure? A super hero, or a soldier?
“Yes! Yes, a soldier!”
“Then that is called action figure. Never say that boys play with dolls. People will laugh at you.” Yes it sounds sexist and old-fashioned, but it is true. He would get beat up in the States if he went around saying that about his friend.

Question of the Day: If you could go on a trip to anywhere in the world, where you would you go? What would you do there?
Me- I want to go to New Zealand. I want to meet the Aborigines. I hear they can talk to dolphins. I want to learn to talk to dolphins.
Oscar- Meez, I can talk to cows. I don’t think they really understand me though.
Me- Yes, Oscar, you do a very good cow impression. (I have to make rules about mooing. It is not ok to moo in class or in the hallway. Only during recess. When he moos out the classroom windows, it antagonizes the cows across the fence, and sometimes I am concerned they will try to jump the fence and run over to our window to make friends.)

Again, Oscar on cows: We are discussing mimicry, an adaptation in which an animal makes the sound or appears to look like another animal, to detract predators.
Oscar: Meez Susong, I—I do mimicry for the cows. I make the sound of a cow, and I make people think I am a cow.
Me- Yes, Oscar. You do mimic cow sounds very well. I’m not sure how that would help protect you from predators though. I think animals might be more interested in eating you if they think you are a cow than if they think you are a person.

Favio- I don’t want to learn NOTING next week, Meez.
Me- Oh Favio, don’t be silly. You don’t want to come to school next week?
Favio- No. I want to play with my rabbit.

During the spelling test (yes, the kids often talk during the test. There is only so much I can do to keep order in the classroom.):
Me- "Shrank. My t-shirt shrank in the dryer." (We had to discuss this, to make sure everyone knew what a dryer was. Apparently some of my students have them. I want a dryer at my house!)
Favio- Meez. Did you say "t-shirt" or "teacher"?
Me- Yes, my teacher shrank in the dryer. (It does sound appealing to them, I'm sure. If I had shrunk in the dryer, then they wouldn't be taking a spelling test at the moment.)

Today, Mao comes in class all hyped up, as usual. "Meez, Meez, unner-- eef, eef we is good-- eef we is good behave, anduh unner speeek-- speeek Engleesh, en, eef Meez Peggy, Meez Peggy.... eef, unner, ee no speeke Espanish... end geeve-..... (turning to friend) como se dice regalo en ingles?!"
Me- Prize. Yes Mao. If we speak a lot of English and have good behavior, then there will be a prize for the class. (Mao is by far the most difficult student to understand. He has a unique blend of Spanglish, aided by a few filler words of his own device. Also, Miss Peggy somehow makes it into every conversation he tries to have with me in English. It's like our names are interchangeable or something.)

Janina: Meez Susong! I go to Juticalpa on the weekend. I go to La Colonia. An my mom, she buy peppers for you! I'm gonna bring you peppers!
Me- Why thank you, Janina. (Why the heck would her mom buy me peppers? Did she hear about the hot pepper pizza disaster?)
Friday. Janina: Meez Susong! I bring you gift! Pepper! (It's a Dr. Pepper, which the kids had seen me drinking at school. I told them it was special, made only in Texas, and La Colonia is the only grocery store in Juticalpa to sell it. Did I mention Janina is now my favorite student? ;-P

I was on the bus home to the orphanage, where I tutor once a week. I was sitting next to Maria José, an adorable but highly ADHD 1st grader (God bless Bridget... don't know how she does it!) She kept taking off my sunglasses, putting them on, then shoving them back on my face. She kept coaching me in the pronunciation of her name: Ma-rrrrrrr-ia José. No, no! (laughing) Es Ma-RRRRRR-ia José! Then, as I was leaning back, closing my eyes against the afternoon sun and fake sleeping, she leaned in close and whispered something in my ear. "Que? I can't hear you." "La quiero mucho, Miss Susong!" "I love you too, Maria José."
Yes, this is why I get up at 5:15 and willingly submit to a sometimes tortuous 7 1/2 hours of loud, obnoxious ESL kids. They are expert whiners, born procrastinators, infamous idlers, and highly physical players... but they are full of love and sweetness, too.

At the end of the day, I prefer to remember the Love.