Ok, so I am little late starting this up.

Greetings family and friends!!
So, yes, the date is the 6th of October and yes, I arrived in country on the 23rd of June. And this is my first blog entry. A bit of an epic fail on my part. I have really failed to document this experience. So I am starting now!

One of the down sides about waiting three and half months to start a blog is that now, I have no idea where to start. So, I will try to give you all the scores and highlights of my first three months in Honduras. To begin, we got into country on June 23. The first thing that catches your eye when you land in Tegucigalpa is the amazing landscape. Being from St. Louis, mountains is not something I am used to. But let me tell, there are a ton of mountains here in Honduras. And they are beautiful. I have never seen anything like it. It is hard to explain the feeling that I had stepping outside of the airport, breathing real Honduran air for the first time. To those who are reading, I do not know if you have had a moment like this. It felt as if every moment of my life was building up to this moment, I needed to be here, and I had the rest of my life at my finger tips. I was a unique and amazing feeling that I will never forget.

Before I knew it, we were in the swing of training and Spanish class. You see, I thought it would be a good idea to move to Honduras for two years without any competency in Spanish. Needless to say, the language barrier was the most daunting task in front of me. To make an understatement, I was freaking out. I was living with a host family without the ability to talk or express how I felt. For those that know me well understand that taking away my ability to talk is a cruel, cruel thing. As time progressed with training I became more and more worried that I would not be able reach to Spanish level necessary to become an official volunteer. People told me to trust the process, I did not. I had countless nights trying so hard to talk with my host families, studying flash cards, and trying to read in Spanish. Perhaps the stress about Spanish is the reason why I have lost so much weight since I have been here. But, my teachers, bosses, and friends were right. After a lot of hard work, support from my friends, and countless Spanish classes I got to the level I needed to be. Every trainee needed to reach the level of intermediate medium in order to be sworn in. I finished at intermediate high. Graduating from college and high school were moments when I felt proud of myself. Those moments I did not feel bad patting myself on the back. Reaching the level of intermediate high in Spanish in eleven weeks was better. Thank you to my friends and teachers, I could not have done it without you. (Anna Maria, you were the best, thank you so much for everything!)

Obviously, homesickness, culture shock, and the inability to ask where the bathroom is were big obstacles to overcome. However, I have to vent about something that may seem trivial, but I promise, it was not. The food. So as all of you know, I am from the Midwest. Specifically, I like to think of having homes in Missouri, Kansas, and Nebraska. While I love these states and have great memories in all of them; they are not exactly the beacon of cultural diversity in America. Even more so when it comes to a Hispanic influence. Seriously, to us Midwesterners Cinco de Mayo is just another Tuesday and we drink Jose Cuervo because Bud Light Lime sucks. Honestly, I could count on the my hands the number of times I ate beans in my life before I came here. When I went to a Mexican Restaurant in the States I always ordered my plate without beans. I hated beans. And really, tortillas? Do not get me wrong, I made a mean cheese tortilla with my George Forman Grill when I was in college. But certainly not with every meal. And, the tortillas down here are not the same. First dinner in Honduras, I will never forget it. Big plate of beans, rice, tortillas, and this weird thing called queso. Now, I know what you are thinking, “that is cheese.” O no! I am here to set the record straight. Queso is not cheese. It is nasty, tastes sour, and apparently, goes on everything. Not to exaggerate, but I almost vomited my first dinner. I have a friend, who will remain nameless. One night at dinner, this friend of mine put the queso in his/her mouth while his/her host family was watching and when they looked away he/she took the queso out and stuck in his/her pocket (You know who you are!). That is how bad the food was at first.

But I had a theory to overcome the involuntary impulse to gag at the sight of queso and beans. Like Spanish I just had to push through everyday. You see, in college, I put on a few pounds because I had acquired a taste for beer and chicken wings. Therefore, I had to acquire a liking of running my senior year to counter act the beer and chicken wings. And now, I love running, I do it almost every day. So, with that in mind, I tried out a theory that one can grow to like anything, no matter how bad it tastes or how much it hurts. Think about it, who loved running the first time they went for a jog. And who tasted a good glass of scotch the first time and said “wow, that tasted great.” No one. With a determined heart I ate every bean, tortilla, and block of queso that was put in front of me. It was terrible, I complained in my head a lot, and my body hated me for it. But now, I have beans almost every day and I actually like them now. I willingly buy beans and tortillas with a smile on my face. Queso, however, still no. I am still working on that. But I can live with two out of three.

Overall, training was great. I made some amazing friends. How could I not. We were in a foreign country without our friends and family. We were in a different culture with different language, foods, customs, lifestyles, and attitudes. We literally left behind everything that was familiar. The only thing that we could hold onto were each other. I am surprised by the strong and lasting bonds that I have made with the people of H-17. Because of what we went through together we have something together that is so hard to describe. I feel confident we will continue to support each other and strengthen the strong bond that we already have.

After all the beans, homesickness, awkward moments, and struggle, we, as a group, were sworn in together on September 10th, 2010. Every person that came to Houston on June 22nd was sworn in. We did not lose anyone. I like to think that is because of the support and love we gave each other during the eleven weeks of training. That is certainly a day that I do not think I will forget. One reason why is because my colleagues voted that I and another colleague of mine give a speech, in Spanish, at the U.S. Embassy in front the ambassador to the United States, all of our colleagues, Spanish teachers, bosses, and our Honduran counter-parts. All and all, around 150 people would be my guess. Because of my struggles with Spanish, the days leading up to the Swearing-In Ceremony were stressful. But I survived, and I feel that my speech was received well.

But perhaps the moment that I will remember more than anything about that day was actually being sworn in. We stood tall and together. 57 young Americans, in a foreign and strange land, that only wanted to do their part. We all recognized that we were not going to save the world or single handily fix the problems of Honduras. But if we all do the best we can, for Honduras, for America, for peace, and most importantly, for each other, than maybe we could make a difference for the better. I was on the National Mall when Barack Obama became our President. But that day in Tegucigalpa was the most proud I had ever been to be an American. Right after we took the oath a dark and deep thunder sounded off in the distance. It seemed as if the heavens were reminding us of the gravity of our commitment that we just made. It was as if someone was telling us, “you have no idea what you just got yourselves into.” It was eerie but oddly encouraging at the same time. Once again, I felt as if every moment of my life had been building to this and that the rest of my life was at my finger tips. Needless to say, I was ready to get into site and tackle Reitoca head on. But first, we were going to celebrate on last night together, and celebrate we did.

I have been in site now for three and half weeks. And to explain what I have been doing will take more time and it is getting late and I have to teach tomorrow. So, for now, do not worry about me. There have been hard moments. I have had second thoughts. But I want to be here. I am happy here. I love my site, Reitoca. The people here have been so nice and welcoming. I imagine I will post something again soon. Within a week. I hope all is well back at home. I cannot describe how much I love you all and how homesick I am. Until next time. Love you all!!