Reflections

So now comes the time when I evaluate my emotions about leaving on Monday. Part of me is ready to go. Paul went home last Tuesday and I am dreadfully missing my constant companion and, lets face it, my best friend in Honduras. I will be happy to see everyone, especially my dogs and my parents (sorry mom and dad, but I know the dogs will love me and be excited and I won't have to answer any questions). Still part of me is apprehensive. I feel as though I have changed quite a bit while I was down here. I haven't driven a car or worn makeup in three months. Life here is slower, there is little that is so pressing that one need stress over it. There are no antidepressant commercials on t.v. or therapists for everyday folk. I love it. I love the people here, who will bend over backwards to help you without once stopping to worry about what they get out of it. I love the fact that everything is ridiculously affordable (can't help it, I love to shop, and I love shopping lots and spending less money even more). I have made friends here that I hope I never lose touch with. I have already started thinking about when I could come back (and have been offered a job at a school here for the 06-07 school year).
Most of all, though, I think I am incredulous that I have made it the entire duration of my trip. I have, in the past, had a penchance for becoming frightened, homesick, whatever you will call it, and ending my trip early, or calling my parents in tears. The thing that I have seen on this trip is that I can take care of myself. I am an adult who is personable, capable, and who genuinely cherishes the experiences that this world has to offer. I like that about myself. I continually hear that your thirties are some of the best years of your life, and now, with this trip under my belt and my thirties staring at me from not far down the road, I have to say: Bring it on.

All my love,
Jen

Roatan

So I am well aware of the fact that I have left you all hanging, desperately awaiting the next installment of my harrowing adventures in Honduras (am I laying the sarcasm on thick enough? Can you hear it from there?). I appologize. As my friend Paul so elloquently says, I just couldn't be bothered. My schedule was entirely packed with diving, sunbathing, listening to live bands, and eating amazing food. I appologize for... well, nothing, I have had an amazing time. Roatan, another of the Bay Islands, is about two hours off the coast of mainland Honduras by ferry (18 minutes by plane... the ferry is slooowww), and many many times the size of Utila. We stayed on the west end of the island (quite originally named "West End" hmm...), in a little bungalow on the beach (BEAUTIFUL). We had a private beach and a dock leading to a gazebo over the sea, where we watched many a sunset over the Caribbean, and during the day we dived (dove?) our guts out. There were SO MANY FISH around the reef. I was chased by a giant green moray eel, I watched an octopus eat a conch (okay, I sat for a while staring at the octopus and the conch, but Paul promised he was going to eat it. I made it happen in my mind... trust me... it was cool), I fell in love with banded puffer fish (they are so ugly they are cute), and I learned a little more about who I am and what I can do.
Don't get me wrong, I am not plugging Roatan over Utila (though I had much better company on Roatan). Roatan is more expensive, more pretentious, and every day the main road is plagued with tourists off the cruise ships whose noses are covered in that ridiculous suncream that never fades, and who are loud, obnoxious, and generally embarassing to their countrymen (me) who would like to absorb some local culture rather than scream my personal culture out over anything else.
That being said, I had a great time. I do tend to entertain myself fairly effeciently, and I had lots of help. So Roatan only gets one thumb up, but the diving gets two thumbs way up. In the words of my idol, Edith Ann, "And that's the truth."

I somehow lost my pictures of Carnival Day, so I will have to begin my account of that interesting 36 hours here, with a picture of Annabel and myself. I got up at 10 a.m. and rode around with a friend of mine while he got his float ready for the parade (I was supposed to be on it, but I wiggled out of it at the last minute). I watched the parade from the Spanish school, then strolled around and played some games at Carnival. Annabel and Chris arrived from Guatemala around 8 and the party began.... 

My pocket got picked. It was a huge disappointment, but kind of cool, too. I felt like a real Honduran, I had been robbed. The thief was a pro, (s)he bypassed my camera, my glasses, and just pulled out my coin purse. I felt the need to document the moment. 

I found this picture to be an excellent depiction of Carnival. People got there the night before to set up their tiendas, there was so much excitement, kids would just fall asleep anywhere they could.  

Paul, Chris, and some other bloke provided me with this excellent photo opportunity. One thing about Carnival, there are no trashcans, and no bathrooms. The guys made due. 

The cockfights were one of the most interesting and horrific experiences I have had (does anyone remember me crying my eyes out after the movie Saw? It was sort of like that). It was intriguing to see this way of life, the seediness of it (it IS a lot like the dodgeball tournaments), but I couldn't stand watching the animals just attack and attack when the other was so obviously dying. Finally I was crying pretty badly and insisted upon leaving. 

Saw the sunrise on Sunday morning (we were still discussing the effects of our experience at the Cancha de Gallos, when we noticed the sky lightening). The view from the hill at the top of my neighborhood is spectacular, you can see the entire town, the Caribbean, and Utila all at once. 

After the sun came up, we decided that we weren't tired (nothing a couple of Imperials couldn't cure), so Chris hobbled down the hill with us and we took a taxi into town. 

I thought we could go to Expats and the guard would let me in to make us breakfast, but alas, no. So we snuck into the hotel across the street and spent a couple of hours by the pool. Joe (my boss) says that my tan means I have too much spare time. I say there is no such thing as too much spare time. 

Chris caught a nap on the bus up to the river, but Annabel and I couldn't manage. 

We headed to the Rio Cangrejal for a day of swimming, relaxing, sunbathing, and SLEEP!!! (We threw in a rousting game of Scrabble, too). 

Finally! Sleep! We hit the hammocks at around 2 Sunday afternoon.