Honduras 2005 - Justin Solonynka

Travels in Honduras
Justin Solonynka's journals and photography
June and July, 2005

I am a math teacher at Germantown Academy, an independent school located near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Each academic year, faculty members may apply for a Kast Grant for travel and professional development. In 2005, I received a grant to travel to Honduras, where I took Spanish classes, explored national parks, and taught math to students at a small school outside of the capital. What follows are excerpts from my online journal from that trip, as well as some of my photography. Comments and questions are welcome and may be directed to me by emailing jsolony (at) germantownacademy (dot) org.

TUESDAY, JUNE 21, 2005

I have arrived safely in Honduras. I left from JFK on Monday morning and landed in Tegucigalpa last night, with a layover in San Salvador. I have had nothing but good luck since I arrived. My friend Jeremy (who is in the Peace Corps here) met me at the airport with his friend, Mireya, who drove us to a great little restaurant (serving comida tipica). Jeremy had a place for us to stay – his friend’s house, which was just enormous. And, incredibly, he had found another friend who was driving to Copán Ruinas today and who gave me a lift – I didn’t have to take the bus! What would have taken nine hours only took six.

Mireya and Jeremy at dinner

Bananas for sale on the road to Copán

I am writing this at a Cyber Café in Copán Ruinas, while waiting for the Spanish school to open. I’ll be here for about a week, and then I’ll head to San Juancito where I will teach math at a school there. That’s the town where Jeremy is stationed. In between and afterward, I will be exploring the plethora of wildlife in the Parques Nacionales here.

THURSDAY, JUNE 23, 2005

The computer keyboards in Central America are different enough that touch-typing is difficult, and there is so much going on in Copán Ruinas that I just don’t get to a computer as often as I might. That being said, I really want to write about my excursion to Guatemala today.

To start: I’ve made fast friends with three of the other students at La Escuela Ixbalanque, the school where I am learning Spanish. They are all about my age. Patience is an ESL teacher from west of Chicago (an area called Elmhurst) who is brushing up on her Spanish before her husband arrives tomorrow for vacation. Hillary is a “perpetual student” from Portland, who has decided to take a year to volunteer for a Catholic-run orphanage near Tegucigalpa. John just completed his fourth year of divinity school (Episcopalian) in Boston – he’s originally from Chicago.	Hiking with my fellow students and a couple kids
Boy looking out a microbus window	Today, Patience and I decided to go to the Guatemala border, which is about 10 kilometers from here. At first, we were going to take a microbus. We got on the bus, but for some reason the driver was missing, and we ended up sitting there for about a half hour. We passed the time by talking with a family from Guatemala. Then, when the driver finally arrived, he tried to fool me and Patience into paying much more than everyone else. He was asking for 50 lempiras each - which is about $2.50 American. The actual going rate is 15 lempiras. Our new Guatemalan friends started arguing for us, and then decided they weren’t going to take this microbus after all, and they asked if we would like to hitch a ride with them.
Thus began one of the coolest adventures I’ve ever had in Latin America. The family consisted of the dad (José), the mom, two children, and then another young couple (just friends of the family, we think). José is a primary school teacher in a town in Guatemala - a very warm and articulate man. All of us walked out of town (there’s only one road “in” and one road “out”) and started walking along the highway, waiting for a passing truck. It took a while, but a pick-up truck finally stopped for us. We all climbed into the open back. And then, off we went to the frontera.	Clothes on a line
At the Honduras/Guatemala border	To give you an idea of how much fun we were having: It turned out that José knew a song about Chicago (in Spanish) and when he found out that Patience was from there, he decided to entertain us all. He then sang a song he knew in English - “Are You Sleeping, Brother John.” He then asked if Patience would sing us a song. Patience got her degree in Vocal Music. She sang “Amazing Grace” for us well. I mean, really well. We all clapped. This is at 60 kilometers per hour in the back of an open pickup truck!
We got to the border, took pictures with the family, and then went through customs. The family, of course, pretty much just walked through. It wasn't quite so easy for Patience and me. “You want to go to Guatemala?” the officials asked us in Spanish. “You want to go for just one hour?” They kept scratching their heads as if they’d never heard such a thing. Finally they agreed that we looked harmless enough, and they wrote out on a piece of paper that we were allowed to look around in Guatemala if we liked, and they stamped it with an official looking stamp, and the guards didn’t even glance at any of this as we actually walked across the border.	Patience and our fellow hitchhikers
Adobe house on the Guatemala side	We grabbed a microbus on the other side and took it into a small town about a kilometer away, then realized that we didn’t have time to go any further, and decided to get out and hike back to Honduras. There were people all over, smiling and waving to us as we walked. A little girl had a chocolate-covered frozen banana. “¿Donde puedo comprar un banano con chocolate?” I asked, and the girl motioned up the road. Patience, who had never had one before, was skeptical at first but we bought them and enjoyed them very much.
We walked back across the border without incident - oh, except for the charging cow. Well, it sort of charged. It missed. Anyway, we walked back across the border and grabbed a microbus back to Copán Ruinas. We got the front seat, fortunately. The back of the bus was packed with about 15 people. It was made to seat 8. Two people were literally - literally - hanging out the door as we drove up the highway. (Fortunately, the driver was kind enough to drive more slowly than he might have. But not by much.)	The charging cow
Yes, I eventually got to the ruins	I am hoping to find time soon to write more. I’m loving Spanish school, my host family is terrific (I play frisbee with the kids in the street a lot) and I haven’t even gotten to the ruins yet.

MONDAY, JUNE 27, 2005

Language school was a very rewarding, but also very difficult, experience. Four hours every day, one-on-one, with only a twenty minute break in the middle. And my teachers knew far less English than I knew Spanish. But I’m really glad I did it, and I know that I improved in the process.

Thelma, the mom at the house where I am staying, was making lunch a few days ago while I was practicing with my flash cards. I was learning parts of the body. “Pie,” which is pronounced pee-eh, means “foot.” So, naturally, the word “pies” means “feet.” Simple.

But then, Thelma asked me what a word meant, and wrote “fit” on a piece of paper. In Spanish, that word would be pronounced “feet,” and she said it, so I knew what she was talking about. “Pies,” I said. She looked confused. “But... one... is foot,” she said. “One foot... two feet?”

Yes, of course, I thought. The plural of “foot” is “feet,” just like the plural of “boot” is “beet,” and the plural of “wood” is “weed.” Such a mystery is the English language!

I’ve had a really hard time learning Spanish, especially irregular verbs, which are The Bane Of My Existence. But then I think about all the exceptions in English, and I have to wonder how any non-native speaker manages to learn it, much less pronounce it. (Have you ever really looked at how the word thought is spelled versus how it's said?)

I am having a terrific time with my host family. When a bunch of cousins came to visit last night it was quite a party. Frisbee and soccer in the street (until the city lost power yet again, so there were no street lights), playing Uno and Set and other games by candlelight until the power came back on again, fireworks, magic tricks, and more frisbee even when the rain came.	Playing Set at my host family's house
Students and teachers at the Spanish school	The funny thing is that I have to speak in Spanish all the time (of course) and the kids think it’s somewhere between amusing and hilarious. One boy speaks to me in Spanish very... very... slowly, which is very nice of him and usually works. But it occurred to me that perhaps they didn’t realize that I am, in fact, capable of speaking a language well.
So I tried it. I looked at a group of the kids and said, “Listen, I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but I want you to know that with English, I really can speak well and not sound like a complete moron. I wish I could speak Spanish as well as you all, but I can’t. You don’t understand anything I’m saying, do you? Do you?”	At the bird sanctuary in Copán
My host family	The kids looked as though they’d seen a ghost, or at least were witnessing someone speaking in tongues. And then, one of the boys spoke: “Chill,” he said.

FRIDAY, JULY 1, 2005

It turns out that just because a person studies Spanish for a few years and then takes an intensive language course for a week does not mean that he actually knows how to speak or understand the language.

The Spanish spoken in Copán Ruinas is “proper” Spanish. It is slow. It is clear. It is grammatically correct. While I was there, I was so proud of myself! “Wow,” I thought, “I can really speak a second language.”

Fortunately for my big fat head, reality has come quickly. I am now in Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras. I’ve spent the last four days in San Juancito, a nearby pueblo. And I have almost no idea what anyone is saying to me. The Hondureño accent is such that consonants are swallowed, endings of words are lopped off, and everyone's speech is muy rápido.

“Habla mas despacio, por favor” (“Speak more slowly, please”) I say to everyone I meet. They will smile compassionately, say “Sí, sí,” and then launch into conversation at exactly the same rate as before.

My bus rides from Copán to San Pedro Sula, and then from San Pedro Sula to Tegucigalpa, were pretty much uneventful. As we got close to Tegus (that’s what everyone calls it - kind of like calling Philadelphia “Philly”) I asked the woman next to me if she knew how to get to San Juancito from town. San Juancito is the town where my friend Jeremy is stationed in the Peace Corps. This woman not only knew how to get there, but she and her friends were going to the same bus stop and said we could share a taxi. I didn’t realize what a stroke of luck it was to meet these women until we actually got out of the bus in Tegus.	The center square in Tegucigalpa
Statue in the center square	Think of the most insane traffic you’ve ever experienced in the States. I don’t mean traffic jam, because that means the cars have stopped. I mean, people driving with no apparent regard for their own lives or the lives of others. OK, got it? Now, multiply that by ten. Now add stinking piles of garbage everywhere. Now add the traffic jam back in, even though I told you not to. Welcome to Tegucigalpa!
The women hailed a taxi for all of us. I’ve gotten used to taxis in Central and South America. They’re a lot like roller coaster rides. Once you’re strapped in, there really isn’t anything you can do about it, so you’d might as well enjoy the ride. I don’t even get scared anymore when they go up on the sidewalk in order to pass a bus or a truck that’s in the way. I just have faith that the driver probably doesn’t want to die yet, either, so I should be OK.	Birds on a building in Tegus
Man on bench at Parque La Concordia	When I got to the bus station, I found out that the bus to San Juancito would not be arriving for another hour and fifteen minutes. I looked at the various stinking piles of garbage, found one that seemed a little cleaner than the others, and sat down next to that one.

The bus finally arrived, twenty minutes late. Like almost all public transportation in Central America, it was an American school bus which had been converted into... well, it hadn’t been converted at all. At least in Guatemala, they paint them interesting colors. In Honduras, they don’t even bother to paint over the “Hillside Christian School” written in bold letters on the side.

The time since then, I have to admit, has been kind of a blur. San Juancito is an absolutely beautiful village, with unfailingly friendly people (you ALWAYS say hello in Honduras) and two clear streams which join to make the river which runs through the valley. It’s gorgeous. And, an hour walk up the mountain, there’s Parque Nacional La Tigra, with tons of wildlife everywhere and some of the best hiking I’ve experienced.	The road to San Juancito
La Cascada. A picture can't do it justice.	I hiked to the centerpiece of the park, a 500 foot waterfall that was simply awesome. When Jeremy arrived, he introduced me to people all over the village, none of whose Spanish I understood but they seemed to like me anyhow, and he also introduced me to the teachers at the school where I will be teaching next week. Compared to Tegus, San Juancito is paradise.
On the other hand: the power goes out about every other day. Jeremy’s phone doesn’t work. There are no restaurants, no banks, and no internet. Some children go barefoot in the “streets,” which are not paved and certainly aren’t clean. There are homeless dogs absolutely everywhere. It’s a different world, and frankly, I haven’t quite wrapped my brain around it yet.	The San Juancito playground

TUESDAY, JULY 5, 2005

Jeremy came to the house where I was staying in San Juancito early yesterday morning, so we could go to the local elementary school together. He was a bit bleary-eyed, but mostly coherent.

He had every right to be completely exhausted. We’d gone to a huge American Independence Day celebration the day before, complete with a Harrier Hash (which I’m not about to explain here), frisbee throwing, and a great rock band from Baltimore that did covers of Radiohead and U2. I’d returned to San Juancito that night, but Jeremy had gone to a friend’s house for another party.	American rock band in Honduras
Garífuna band performing	And then there was the night before, when we went to hear a Garífuna band perform at a bar near Valle de Angeles, and then missed our bus, and waited in a rainstorm with two French ex-pats for an hour hoping that another bus might come. When one finally did, it wasn’t stopping in San Juancito, so we took it as far as we could and then hitched a ride in the back of a pickup truck, still in the pouring rain.
Anyhow, yesterday morning Jeremy and I walked down the steep hill to the Escuela Primaria at the center of town. Neither of us was really sure what was going to happen. They knew we were coming, and they knew that I was a math teacher, and the plan was that we were going to do something with fractions. That was about it.	Students at the Escuela Primeria
Hanging out with Jeremy and some of our students	When we walked into the fifth grade classroom, the students quite literally leapt to their feet. “¡Buenos días!” they said, and they didn’t sit back down until the teacher gave them permission. All the students wore uniforms, consisting of a white shirt and dark pants and black shoes. I counted 35 students cramped in a room about half as big as would be reasonable.
Soon, I was asked to teach. I wrote my name on the board, “Señor Solonynka,” and explained (in Spanish, as best I could) that since it is a long name, they could call me “Señor Sol.” Sol, as you may already know, is Spanish for “sun.” They liked that. For the rest of the day, as I walked through town, kids were greeting me. “¡Señor Sol! ¡Señor Sol!”	Introducing myself to the class
“¡Es imposible!”	I then brought out a bag of candy and counted out 12 pieces, and asked different students to show 12 divided by 2, 12 divided by 4, and so on. Then I did 20 pieces of candy, and 24 pieces of candy. The idea was to get the students to understand what fractions actually mean, instead of using rote memorization. This is also a fun way to show why division by 0 is undefined. By the end of the lesson, I was asking the class what happens when all kinds of numbers were divided by zero. They would yell all together, “¡Es imposible!”
When our lesson was finished, the kids went out for recess. For about a half-hour, there was absolute bedlam outside. “This is why the kids are so well-behaved,” Jeremy told me. “They get it all out during recess.” All the students wanted me to take pictures of them - and as soon as I would take one photo, another group would want to get in. The excitement about it, I soon realized, was the fact that I had a digital camera, so the students could see themselves afterward. They loved it.	Girls at recess
Best buddies	When the day was all over, Jeremy and I were totally, completely, utterly spent. But there was little time for rest. Jeremy had plenty of Peace Corps errands to run, and we both had clothes to wash. There’s a washing machine in a house up the hill, but the water pressure there is so bad that it has to be filled by hand with bucketfuls of water in order to make it run.

So we did that, and I packed all my stuff, and it was late afternoon when I finally said goodbye to San Juancito.

I have to admit that I was a little sad. I can understand why Jeremy has fallen in love with the town and its people. I can only imagine how he will feel when his time in the Peace Corps is done and he leaves the place he has called home for two years.

I didn’t write about this before, but when I first arrived in San Juancito a week ago, I saw a rainbow. I’ve always been a sucker for rainbows, but I’d never seen anything like this before. It was incredibly wide, and I could actually see its “end.” It rose straight up from the ground, right in front of some trees in the valley below, and then curved up into the sky.

So that’s what is at the end of the rainbow: The village of San Juancito, population 3500, 21 kilometers northeast of Tegucigalpa. Now we know.

SUNDAY, JULY 10, 2005

I have arrived safely back in Pennsylvania. My last days in Honduras were very different from my first days. I took a bus to the “Wild Wild East” of the country, to a small city called Juticalpa, and then took another bus to a tiny, extremely poor village called Gualaco. From there, I hiked (with a guide named Claudia) to Sierra de Agalta, a massive national park.	Young soccer players in Gualaco
Resting with Claudia in Sierra de Agalta, post-hike	I went caving and climbing, saw a lot of animals, and made myself completely exhausted. The travel back - two buses to Tegus, and then three planes back to the USA - was long and not particularly exciting, and I was so happy to see the lights of New York City as we approached JFK.
The main order of business now is relaxing, and quieting my mind. It's hard to find words to describe the experience I’ve just had. It was wonderful and extraordinary, yes -- but difficult and sad at the same time. I wouldn't trade it for anything.	Butterfly on my shorts

Justin Solonynka

Please email all questions and comments to: justin (at) tinylightsmusic (dot) com
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