The past few days I have been working on translating the end of project report that ACDIM has to submit to MCC. It has caused me to reflect on various aspects of translation, language and the bridge-building that it requires.
words that don't translate well:
Now that I have been immersed in Spanish for a long time, there are many words and phrases I have come to know and use that do not have direct counterparts in English. There are also a lot of phrases we use in our work that don't always translate well...like "capacitation"--its like capacity-builiding wrapped up in a more succinct verb. This causes many delays in my translation.
papadas:
This is a word that basically means "something that is full of it." Or as I like to use it, describing the hot air that many Hondurans spout off on a regular basis; things that are said that will never actually happen or be followed through on (read: BS). When writing documents, Hondurans want to fill the empty space with lots of these "papadas" or meaningless phrases. Again, not easily translated to English, and it makes the English version about 1/6 as long as the Spanish one :)
a foot in 2 worlds: Through many years of study and hard work, I have come to learn the ins and outs of another language. The grammar and proper use, of course, but also the more subtle shades and tones in slang, joking, and daily interactions. This has given me so much insight into the culture that I live in and helps me get around, be more independent, and enjoy deeper relationships with people.
building bridges: this is what my fellow Honduras dweller Elise and I always talk about. We are privileged to have some experience and enough language skills to get a handle on the context here. It allows us to build bridges between Hondurans and people from North America. Whether it is a report that higher ups will read in MCC (a necessity for the funds for our work), or my family that comes to visit (a necessity for me to share my life with them), it is an honor to help them understand more about life here and communicate between the two cultures.
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
March 16, 2013
November 15, 2012
360 degrees
Since I first came to Honduras, I have been committed to getting the "full" Honduran experience...or the 360 degree view, if you will.
Some days I'm not even trying so hard and these things just happen to me...
Exhibit A:
As any gringa in Honduras will tell you, it is not rare to have people stare at you, make inappropriate comments or make you feel uncomfortable for looking different. I should be used to the fact that I am 13 inches taller than the average Honduran. But--Honduras likes to keep me humble...
Walking home from the gym I passed a bolo (drunk) on the street and he says to me "Uy, usted es gigante" or in English "Wow, you are a giant." No matter how drunk the man was or how frequently I am called out for being tall, it always stings just a bit.
Exhibit B:
Exhibit A:
As any gringa in Honduras will tell you, it is not rare to have people stare at you, make inappropriate comments or make you feel uncomfortable for looking different. I should be used to the fact that I am 13 inches taller than the average Honduran. But--Honduras likes to keep me humble...
Walking home from the gym I passed a bolo (drunk) on the street and he says to me "Uy, usted es gigante" or in English "Wow, you are a giant." No matter how drunk the man was or how frequently I am called out for being tall, it always stings just a bit.
Exhibit B:
Just this week I went to the doctor for a minor skin irritation on my arm. All I wanted was a cream.
Did I just get the prescription for a cream?
Nope.
I got a shot--right in the hip. Talk about a sting!
It might be pertinent to know that Hondurans are obsessed with injections. No matter what the ailment, there is an injection that will (supposedly) cure you 10x faster than any pill or healthy eating regimen.
I got a shot--right in the hip. Talk about a sting!
It might be pertinent to know that Hondurans are obsessed with injections. No matter what the ailment, there is an injection that will (supposedly) cure you 10x faster than any pill or healthy eating regimen.
While the hip hurt the rest of the day and the injection site was rather tender, I did admit to a good friend that I can't help but feel I am one step closer to the full Honduran experience. I guess I'm still missing a few degrees to be able to say I've seen all 360.
September 20, 2012
life-ful
When I lived in the
US, there were a lot of things I got used to having, doing and buying on a
regular basis. Moving to Honduras and living on an MCC budget has forced me to cut back and live with a lot
less, but in many healthy ways.
This is not to make
you think that I am above impulse purchases--that hard find, often dreamed of
chocolate bar that randomly shows up in the grocery store?? In the basket, in
under 2 seconds. Nor is this meant to give the impression that I live in
austerity. My life in Honduras is rich and varied, always with new things to be
discovered and joy to be found in surprises along the way.
Take for instance,
what used to be my morning drive to work…in my own car, with my own choice of
radio station, and climate controlled interior. A wonderful luxury to have my
own car, perhaps even a necessity in a place where public transportation is
very limited.
Now, I walk 3 blocks
to the office, assaulted by many noises, smells, and sights along the rutted
cobblestone street of Santa Rosa. Talking parrots at the corner, the smell of
fresh tortillas from the ladies down the block, hammering, sawing, taxi horns
and reggaeton music all meld together to serenade me on my way to work.
And when work requires
leaving town to head for the campo? Even better. Fresh air, the cool fog
leaving its mark on us as the moto slices through the mountain passes, dust,
cattle, trucks, bicycles, bright sunshine, shady coffee plantations and rolling
green hills set the backdrop for the ride.
My life here in
Honduras is a lot different than my life in the States…
Can I just google a
new restaurant on my iPhone and drive there for dinner?
Nope. I have to ask 4
different people if they’ve heard of the restaurant, and where (in their
opinion) it is located, then figure out where the former Copan Dry factory used
to be (that was at least 15 years ago) then locate Don Mario’s house that is a
block “up” from there, turn where the lady is usually selling tamales (is she
today? Who knows?) and hang a left…and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll find some kind
of restaurant (probably not the one I was looking for).
Can I just go to the
store and buy cottage cheese when I want cottage cheese?
Nope. I have to check 3 different grocery
stores (one requiring a taxi ride), scour the shelves for any kind of cheese or
cream that resembles cottage cheese, try to describe what cottage cheese is to
a Honduran store boy who has no idea what I’m talking about and finally resign
myself to finding a manageable substitute.
Can I just walk down
the road to clear my head and get some fresh air?
Nope. First of all, if there
is a road that doesn’t have much traffic and leads to a forested area, it’s
probably not safe. And as a female, if I walk anywhere, I am bombarded by
stares, cat-calls and general annoyance from most male presence.
Would I say there are
a lot of things I miss about living in the U.S.? Certainly.
Are they all necessary
to me living a full life? Not really.
Oh sure, there are
things that would make life easier, but there are so many things I enjoy about
life here. And despite all the drama, there
is a surprising amount of normalcy in my weekly routine. The ups and downs in
my job that everyone experiences on some level or another; sharing with friends
and co-workers the funny (and not so funny) moments in life; going to the gym, cleaning,
cooking and going to the movies. But what keeps me on my toes is the never ending
learning curve of living life in a culture that is not your own.
July 12, 2012
un poco de todo
It has been a crazy week--and it's not even over yet. Work has been tough for me this week, navigating the continual challenges of cross-cultural communication and clashes. I continue to struggle to figure out my role at ACDIM and taking the ups and downs of working with our small team as they come.
But life keeps moving on. More friends keep moving on. And so just when I think it's all rolling along just fine, there are always more bumps in the road.
Just wanted to share some photos of my week...un poco de todo, or a little bit of everything. Friends, work, sad goodbyes, retail therapy and turtles.
But life keeps moving on. More friends keep moving on. And so just when I think it's all rolling along just fine, there are always more bumps in the road.
Just wanted to share some photos of my week...un poco de todo, or a little bit of everything. Friends, work, sad goodbyes, retail therapy and turtles.
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| another training for our women to learn how to make plantain chips to sell |
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| fried plantain chips, or tajaditas (tah ha dee tas) |
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| my new couch! ( for more seating when all my visitors decide to come :) |
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| a farewell night to Leanne (center) and Omid who head back to Canada tomorrow |
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| um, apparently my blind turtle is a little...bored...and the turtle under him is the fake one...haha |
Thanks for your continued support, encouragement, love and prayers in all the ups and downs.
June 5, 2012
shopping
As with most things in my life, they never end up as simple as one thinks they should be.
My co-worker and I have to collect a large amount of groceries for a 2-day cooking class for each of our women's groups. This means I will get to have this lovely experience 3 more times.
First off, in Honduras you NEVER buy in quantity...that would make too much sense in a logical, North American kind of way. Buy a large amount of spices, divide into 4. done.
No, tita....we must buy for each time, individually. Oh, and one-stop shop? Forget it! You have to stop at least 3 places and make sure you are getting the best price. Regardless how many people tell you the same price over and over and over again.
Our first stop, the Despensa. A no-frills, basic grocery store. And when I say basic, I mean basic for Honduran cooking. Don't expect to find your Philadelphia cream cheese or pomegranate juice here. With Oscar's wife trailing behind us to confirm every selection I made, we made our way around the store. Of course, I wasn't an authority on anything (though I can cook) so we kept checking in, retracing our steps...then, in random fits of decisiveness, O would tell me "no, I'm sure we can buy that in another place cheaper."
Paying, putting things in bags, a spilled bag of oil (yeah, oil in a pouch), getting the cart to the car...I mean, it's hard to describe it to you, but nothing is as streamlined as the process you know in your cushy North American grocery store...just trust me on this one. I almost went chasing a cart down the cobblestone hill from the store because it is just. not. simple.
From there we dropped off the wife, went to another place to buy cheeses. Of course, they didn't have everything we wanted. Then to the downtown market. First to the lonely stalls on the outer ring where we bought one bunch of cilantro. Then to another lady outside the market to buy one bunch of spices. Then to another store to buy more dried spices. Finally, to the big market (my idea) to finish up. But if I ask for prices they jack it up for the gringa. So I try to make Oscar do it, but he doesn't know what he's doing. By this time I was about out of patience.
Back to another store to buy more cheese. Then back to the market to get one more kind of meat. I mean seriously, it was a lot of here and there and back and forth.
More than anything, I wanted to go to one big grocery store and buy everything at once. Is that asking too much? In this town it seems to be. But as always, in my frustration with doing things not my way, I learn a lot about patience, humility, having a sense of humor, and just going with the flow. It was not efficient, but did we really have a lot else to be doing? Not really. Did we get it all in the end? Yes. Will it all come together tomorrow? Probably even better than I think it will.
But believe you me, next time around, that list will be organized sequentially according to each aisle of grocery store, with check boxes, color-coding and a separate list of "market items." Watch out Oscar. I will bring method to this madness!!
My co-worker and I have to collect a large amount of groceries for a 2-day cooking class for each of our women's groups. This means I will get to have this lovely experience 3 more times.
First off, in Honduras you NEVER buy in quantity...that would make too much sense in a logical, North American kind of way. Buy a large amount of spices, divide into 4. done.
No, tita....we must buy for each time, individually. Oh, and one-stop shop? Forget it! You have to stop at least 3 places and make sure you are getting the best price. Regardless how many people tell you the same price over and over and over again.
Our first stop, the Despensa. A no-frills, basic grocery store. And when I say basic, I mean basic for Honduran cooking. Don't expect to find your Philadelphia cream cheese or pomegranate juice here. With Oscar's wife trailing behind us to confirm every selection I made, we made our way around the store. Of course, I wasn't an authority on anything (though I can cook) so we kept checking in, retracing our steps...then, in random fits of decisiveness, O would tell me "no, I'm sure we can buy that in another place cheaper."
Paying, putting things in bags, a spilled bag of oil (yeah, oil in a pouch), getting the cart to the car...I mean, it's hard to describe it to you, but nothing is as streamlined as the process you know in your cushy North American grocery store...just trust me on this one. I almost went chasing a cart down the cobblestone hill from the store because it is just. not. simple.
From there we dropped off the wife, went to another place to buy cheeses. Of course, they didn't have everything we wanted. Then to the downtown market. First to the lonely stalls on the outer ring where we bought one bunch of cilantro. Then to another lady outside the market to buy one bunch of spices. Then to another store to buy more dried spices. Finally, to the big market (my idea) to finish up. But if I ask for prices they jack it up for the gringa. So I try to make Oscar do it, but he doesn't know what he's doing. By this time I was about out of patience.
Back to another store to buy more cheese. Then back to the market to get one more kind of meat. I mean seriously, it was a lot of here and there and back and forth.
More than anything, I wanted to go to one big grocery store and buy everything at once. Is that asking too much? In this town it seems to be. But as always, in my frustration with doing things not my way, I learn a lot about patience, humility, having a sense of humor, and just going with the flow. It was not efficient, but did we really have a lot else to be doing? Not really. Did we get it all in the end? Yes. Will it all come together tomorrow? Probably even better than I think it will.
But believe you me, next time around, that list will be organized sequentially according to each aisle of grocery store, with check boxes, color-coding and a separate list of "market items." Watch out Oscar. I will bring method to this madness!!
May 25, 2012
the retreat to end all retreats
A few weeks I was invited to attend my church's women's reatreat. Growing up in the church, I had my share of "church retreat" experiences. From camps and conferences to youth and women's gatherings, I thought I had pretty much seen it all. Even since living in Honduras, I have had several youth retreat experiences and was pretty sure a women's retreat with the mennonite church in Santa Rosa was nothing I couldn't handle.
I can't actually imagine that I could have been more wrong.
It was...out of control. It was frustrating. It was moving. It was an intense 3 days, like nothing else I have experienced in my Honduran experience thus far.
First of all, I thought a women's retreat was for all the women of the church. What I learned is that women attend the retreat once and are good for life...once you have had your "retreat" experience you only go back to serve instead of receive. It is a chance to invite your un-churched, heathen friends to help them get their lives back on track.
So we started around 5:30 pm on Friday evening with 4 plenary sessions. By the time those were over, we were divided into 2 groups, had to come up with a "chant" for our group, and were forced to turn in our cell-phones. I was not a happy camper.
Then we got on a bus and headed to the chuch retreat center about 30 minutes outside of Santa Rosa. Once there, we had another plenary session or 2 (they all run together) and finally ate dinner around 9:30. We had more sessions after dinner with intense prayer times where most women were prayed over and slain in the spirit.
Late nights...early mornings...didn't even have a clock to know what time it was, which maybe helped. We had more plenaries in the morning, including a very long one from my boss, Ruth. After another time of prayer, tears, and much fainting, we had a time of worship where we were all required to dance around and sing about how free we were.
The afternoon included a session on dating, saving sex for marriage, and even a wedding! Little did I know things were just getting started. We had more sessions, more singing and dancing, all leading up to the evening dinner which was meant to be like a honduran quinceanera or what we would think of as a Sweet 16 party. All the women were honored, those who did celebrate their special birthday, and those who did not. We even danced with the birthay court, rocked in the rocking chair, and received our wedding rings to remind us of our purity covenant with God.
Then, on Sunday morning I was rudely awoken by the loudest music I have heard in very very long time, vey close to my head. I am not a morning person, and this did not amuse me in the least. What I thought was a prank from the youth group boys on night-watch turned out to be an intentional 4 am serenade to make us "feel like princesses." Let's just say that message was lost on me. In my kingdom, no one should wake me up before 7am.
So, that got my day off to a pretty bad start. Add to that not being able to go anywhere alone (yes, even accompanied to the bathroom), no down time from start to finish, continual bombardment with worship practices that are not familiar or comfortable to me and by Sunday afternoon I was done with this retreat. But, I still had to get through the last sessions on prophetic words for our lives, a bus ride back to town, singing most of the way, a rowdy welcome back to the church with a human tunnel, much dancing and balloon-popping, and being forced to share a testimony.
It is hard for me to adequately express how I felt after this whole weekend...I did enjoy some parts of it, and there were some good moments. The other women at the retreat were unique and interesting and we did develop friendships. Moreover, it is good to take time out of the normal routine to spend time with God, talking to Him and listening for his direction.
But I was frustrated by so very many things. For one, I do not like being followed around and forced to be with people 24-7. I am an extrovert, but I need my alone time (especially in the bathroom).
Secondly, I have adjusted to deep immersion in Honduran culture since I arrived, but I always need time to process what I'm learning/seeing/doing. Whether it is time alone to journal, a convo with my fellow ex-pats, or a sarcastic text to my BFF in Teguc...I need it! It keeps me sane. And most Hondurans do not understand this or know how to deal with my sharp tongue (I prefer sarcastic wit, but I digress).
Through it all, it is necessary to step back and look at this experience with a broader perspective. Church traditions are as complex as the culture they are wrapped up in, creating the diverse flavors of Christianity we find the world over. I am confident that my own church traditions would be equally intimidating/uncomfortable/puzzling for many of my Honduran friends.
And so I have to appreciate these experiences for what they are, taking advantage of the chance to get to know another culture more intimately, to learn more about myself, and to explore how I see God working in the not-so-familiar. While I don't relish the thought of another church retreat, I have to add it to my growing list of stretching experiences as I learn to appreciate the positive moments in spite of others that may drive me crazy!
I can't actually imagine that I could have been more wrong.
It was...out of control. It was frustrating. It was moving. It was an intense 3 days, like nothing else I have experienced in my Honduran experience thus far.
First of all, I thought a women's retreat was for all the women of the church. What I learned is that women attend the retreat once and are good for life...once you have had your "retreat" experience you only go back to serve instead of receive. It is a chance to invite your un-churched, heathen friends to help them get their lives back on track.
So we started around 5:30 pm on Friday evening with 4 plenary sessions. By the time those were over, we were divided into 2 groups, had to come up with a "chant" for our group, and were forced to turn in our cell-phones. I was not a happy camper.
Then we got on a bus and headed to the chuch retreat center about 30 minutes outside of Santa Rosa. Once there, we had another plenary session or 2 (they all run together) and finally ate dinner around 9:30. We had more sessions after dinner with intense prayer times where most women were prayed over and slain in the spirit.
Late nights...early mornings...didn't even have a clock to know what time it was, which maybe helped. We had more plenaries in the morning, including a very long one from my boss, Ruth. After another time of prayer, tears, and much fainting, we had a time of worship where we were all required to dance around and sing about how free we were.
The afternoon included a session on dating, saving sex for marriage, and even a wedding! Little did I know things were just getting started. We had more sessions, more singing and dancing, all leading up to the evening dinner which was meant to be like a honduran quinceanera or what we would think of as a Sweet 16 party. All the women were honored, those who did celebrate their special birthday, and those who did not. We even danced with the birthay court, rocked in the rocking chair, and received our wedding rings to remind us of our purity covenant with God.
Then, on Sunday morning I was rudely awoken by the loudest music I have heard in very very long time, vey close to my head. I am not a morning person, and this did not amuse me in the least. What I thought was a prank from the youth group boys on night-watch turned out to be an intentional 4 am serenade to make us "feel like princesses." Let's just say that message was lost on me. In my kingdom, no one should wake me up before 7am.
So, that got my day off to a pretty bad start. Add to that not being able to go anywhere alone (yes, even accompanied to the bathroom), no down time from start to finish, continual bombardment with worship practices that are not familiar or comfortable to me and by Sunday afternoon I was done with this retreat. But, I still had to get through the last sessions on prophetic words for our lives, a bus ride back to town, singing most of the way, a rowdy welcome back to the church with a human tunnel, much dancing and balloon-popping, and being forced to share a testimony.
It is hard for me to adequately express how I felt after this whole weekend...I did enjoy some parts of it, and there were some good moments. The other women at the retreat were unique and interesting and we did develop friendships. Moreover, it is good to take time out of the normal routine to spend time with God, talking to Him and listening for his direction.
But I was frustrated by so very many things. For one, I do not like being followed around and forced to be with people 24-7. I am an extrovert, but I need my alone time (especially in the bathroom).
Secondly, I have adjusted to deep immersion in Honduran culture since I arrived, but I always need time to process what I'm learning/seeing/doing. Whether it is time alone to journal, a convo with my fellow ex-pats, or a sarcastic text to my BFF in Teguc...I need it! It keeps me sane. And most Hondurans do not understand this or know how to deal with my sharp tongue (I prefer sarcastic wit, but I digress).
Through it all, it is necessary to step back and look at this experience with a broader perspective. Church traditions are as complex as the culture they are wrapped up in, creating the diverse flavors of Christianity we find the world over. I am confident that my own church traditions would be equally intimidating/uncomfortable/puzzling for many of my Honduran friends.
And so I have to appreciate these experiences for what they are, taking advantage of the chance to get to know another culture more intimately, to learn more about myself, and to explore how I see God working in the not-so-familiar. While I don't relish the thought of another church retreat, I have to add it to my growing list of stretching experiences as I learn to appreciate the positive moments in spite of others that may drive me crazy!
May 21, 2012
home sweet home
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| could she BE any cuter? |
Someone asked me how I can deal with the culture shock of being in one place for so long, spend a few hours on a plane, and drop right back in to the crazy, technologically-advanced, option-loaded life that is American culture.
And the truth is I don't know how I do it. It just happens. I move from one "life" to the "other" feeling like I have each foot in a completely separate world...one where I miss my family and friends, and the other where I learn and discover new things every day, immersed in a completely different language and culture. There are so many good things about both! And of course, there are frustrating/scary/difficult things in each respective location.
Since the shiny-newness of Honduran culture has worn off a bit, and I just returned to my homeland, I will list for you some observations that hit me in the first few days:
1) Americans are sloppy dressers while traveling. This will come to no surprise to many of you, but now that I have to put on earrings and cute shoes just to walk to the grocery store, my idea of "comfort" has changed. Hondurans dress up to go ANYWHERE. All I saw in the Atlanta airport were girls with shorty shorts, flip-flops, and pony-tails (nothing color coordinating, mind you) and I thought "You should go back to bed, child. What do you think you are doing in public?"
2) Toilet paper goes in the toilet. Common sense, I know, and something I did for the last 20-some years of my life before Honduras...but new habits die hard.
3) options OpTiOnS OPTIONS! Everywhere you go (mostly grocery stores) have an overwhelming array of options. An example: you go to the store, lets say for a cookie...first, there is an entire aisle of cookies... so you narrow it down to an oreo. now there is a whole oreo section with at least 13 varieties to pick from. I cant even take it. Im pretty sure in Santa Rosa my oreo options are regular y dorada (white cookie choco center...).
4) cost of living things...food, gas, etc. Most prices seem to be comparable, especially in grocery items, and in fact gas in Honduras is much more expensive...but incomes are not comparable in Honduras. Monthly wages are much lower which drives the demand for more public transport and a very different living standard.
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| happy to see my poppa at the airport! |
I am very grateful for the privelege of being able to travel, all the "luxuries" of home, and some restful vacation time with my family.
Here are some pics of what I've been up to. Hoping to blog soon about some more recent things that happened in my sometimes crazy and dramatic Honduran experience :)
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| first eats in the states: Taco Bell. Yes you can cringe...but I love me a Crunchwrap Supreme at 11pm :) |
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| starbucks love with my big sis |
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| finally warming up to the aunt she barely knows. its ok. i'll soon be her favorite. |
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| she's unimpressed by my photo-documenting of her life |
May 16, 2012
soup!
Some of you know about my hatred for Honduran soup. It runs deep. It's always eaten on the HOTTEST days of the week, and you have to eat it with your HANDS! I know...soup--with your hands--you must be crazy!
BUT--I'm not the only one who feels this way. My good friend and cohort in the never ending quest to discuss, dissect and generally absorb all that we can regarding Honduran culture wrote a wonderful post about this very topic. Since we helped each other articulate these deep feelings, I feel good about reposting her excellent work. Enjoy.
[Oh, and check her blog. It's good too :) Elise's Blog: A View From Honduras]
I avoid generalizations about Hondurans, since I obviously don't know every single inhabitant of this beautiful land. However, I will take my chances with this one. Hondurans LOVE soup. They are obsessed with soup. Soup is their life blood. Seriously.
BUT--I'm not the only one who feels this way. My good friend and cohort in the never ending quest to discuss, dissect and generally absorb all that we can regarding Honduran culture wrote a wonderful post about this very topic. Since we helped each other articulate these deep feelings, I feel good about reposting her excellent work. Enjoy.
[Oh, and check her blog. It's good too :) Elise's Blog: A View From Honduras]
I avoid generalizations about Hondurans, since I obviously don't know every single inhabitant of this beautiful land. However, I will take my chances with this one. Hondurans LOVE soup. They are obsessed with soup. Soup is their life blood. Seriously.
Hondurans can wax poetic about the qualities of a bean soup for at least
30 minutes without effort. Recently, a lady stared selling a different
type of soup every day at work. We spend most of the lunch hour
discussing the qualities of the tortilla soup, and planning which soup
they'll order the next day.
My host mom always tells me excitedly in the morning if she'll be making
soup that day, and the whole family joins in the joy about the
delicacy.
I however, don't share these feelings. This is why:
That's a typical Honduran beef soup. Do you see the CHUNKS of meat,
corn, yucca and plantain?!?! That is NOT soup, that is broth
with unmanageably large pieces of starch that I have to take extract
from the burning broth with my hands, and then try to figure out how to
eat without a knife in sight (you shouldn't need a knife to eat soup).
In my cultural context, you eat soup with a spoon. It's a smooth,
creamy, experience, to be eaten with bread and maybe lemonade. It's a
great treat on a cold, winter day.
Here, I am not allowed to eat my soup with bread (it has to be
tortillas) and heaven forbid I drink a cold beverage with my soup (hot
and cold things can't mix). To add insult to injury, soup is eaten on
the hottest days (once again, can't mix hot with cold).
Finally (I promise, this is the end of my rant), soup broth has so much
lard in it, that washing a receptacle that has held soup is a nightmare.
I often find myself angrily stabbing at a soup pot with my sponge
taking out all my anger at the piece of plantain that I had to eat
earlier in the day.
Now, thankfully Honduras has so many wonderful things, that the
difference between my cultural understanding of soup, and a Honduran
understanding is minor in the scheme of things. However, after I come
home from a run on a hot day, I must admit, the piping hot seafood soup
on the stove makes me want to go running in the opposite direction.
April 14, 2012
culture crash
Sometimes its hard for me to articulate what is so different about my life in the States compared to my life in Honduras.
Other days, its a continual barrage of differences that get under my skin and get me all riled up!
Culture incorporates so many tangible and (more importantly) intangible things that make us who we are, that dictate what we do, and even how we react to things. You might be thinking, yeah, but is it really that big of a deal? I mean, people are people no matter where you go. And you might be right. According to my co-worker, any time I bring up the idea of cultural differences he tells me that it's an excuse and talking about culture is "papadas" (read: you're full of crap).
Well, I would just like to say that it's not crap. It's real. And I struggle to live with these differences, good and bad, every minute of every day of my life in Honduras. And I don't appreciate being told that it's an excuse when it's something that feels very real to me. Until you have lived in another culture and understand the subtle differences that culture adds to everyday life, you can't tell me it's nothing.
Primarily I get riled up in the work place where we have a LOT of differences in how we approach things. Granted, a lot of this is personality...and I will freely admit that. However, there are a lot of cultural trends that shape how we approach our work and how we do or do not get things accomplished. The inefficiency and lack of just...getting-things-done is enough to drive me crazy. There is always tomorrow. And you rush, rush, rush to wait. Hurry up and wait is very typical. And meetings...don't even get me started. If you just spent one hour actually DOING something at your desk, we would need 95% fewer meetings to talk about what you plan to do.
In a different vein, I was reflecting on the food of Honduras and how really, well, un-interesting it is. Every restaurant seems offer the same standard menu, no matter where you go. Oh sure, there are establishments that specialize in fried chicken, or pupusas, or maybe just baleadas...but really, Hondurans have a startling lack of variety in their diet.
It got me thinking about how many varieties of food I used to enjoy in a typical week...but then my daydreaming about Thai food got me drooling over everything so I had to stop that! But it is interesting to consider what a cultural trend there is in the U.S. to try something new, the latest thing, something rare...because it's exciting, and you might discover the next greatest thing. Here in Honduras, you stick to what you know. New is scary...new might be bad.
So where does all this leave me? What am I trying to say?
Well..I guess I'm just trying to blog-it-out and express that living in another culture is challenging for the very ways it stretches you to do things differently and live in ways that don't feel "normal." It's not always bad...there are a lot of good things about it to (hopefully a future post ;) )...but I just need the acknowledgement and affirmation that it is hard. It's not papadas. That what I feel is justifiable and when you've only been steeped in your own culture, you can't really know what all is wrapped up in that word, and how it might make others feel out of place, or un-welcome some times. I know what that's like because I live it.
There are just those days...when it's too much. And you don't want to eat another piece of fried chicken. You really just want something...different!
Other days, its a continual barrage of differences that get under my skin and get me all riled up!
Culture incorporates so many tangible and (more importantly) intangible things that make us who we are, that dictate what we do, and even how we react to things. You might be thinking, yeah, but is it really that big of a deal? I mean, people are people no matter where you go. And you might be right. According to my co-worker, any time I bring up the idea of cultural differences he tells me that it's an excuse and talking about culture is "papadas" (read: you're full of crap).
Well, I would just like to say that it's not crap. It's real. And I struggle to live with these differences, good and bad, every minute of every day of my life in Honduras. And I don't appreciate being told that it's an excuse when it's something that feels very real to me. Until you have lived in another culture and understand the subtle differences that culture adds to everyday life, you can't tell me it's nothing.
Primarily I get riled up in the work place where we have a LOT of differences in how we approach things. Granted, a lot of this is personality...and I will freely admit that. However, there are a lot of cultural trends that shape how we approach our work and how we do or do not get things accomplished. The inefficiency and lack of just...getting-things-done is enough to drive me crazy. There is always tomorrow. And you rush, rush, rush to wait. Hurry up and wait is very typical. And meetings...don't even get me started. If you just spent one hour actually DOING something at your desk, we would need 95% fewer meetings to talk about what you plan to do.
In a different vein, I was reflecting on the food of Honduras and how really, well, un-interesting it is. Every restaurant seems offer the same standard menu, no matter where you go. Oh sure, there are establishments that specialize in fried chicken, or pupusas, or maybe just baleadas...but really, Hondurans have a startling lack of variety in their diet.
It got me thinking about how many varieties of food I used to enjoy in a typical week...but then my daydreaming about Thai food got me drooling over everything so I had to stop that! But it is interesting to consider what a cultural trend there is in the U.S. to try something new, the latest thing, something rare...because it's exciting, and you might discover the next greatest thing. Here in Honduras, you stick to what you know. New is scary...new might be bad.
So where does all this leave me? What am I trying to say?
Well..I guess I'm just trying to blog-it-out and express that living in another culture is challenging for the very ways it stretches you to do things differently and live in ways that don't feel "normal." It's not always bad...there are a lot of good things about it to (hopefully a future post ;) )...but I just need the acknowledgement and affirmation that it is hard. It's not papadas. That what I feel is justifiable and when you've only been steeped in your own culture, you can't really know what all is wrapped up in that word, and how it might make others feel out of place, or un-welcome some times. I know what that's like because I live it.
There are just those days...when it's too much. And you don't want to eat another piece of fried chicken. You really just want something...different!
May 11, 2011
plato tipico
In fitting in with the last post about mangoes, I thought it might be appropriate to write about what I eat on a regular basis in Honduras. I have tried to take photos of some food, but realize I lack photos of the day-to-day stuff. Mostly because I forget to take them, but also because my family would think it weird. Here's a rundown, to give you an idea:
Breakfast: Always coffee...made with WAY too much sugar. I was almost able to drink coffee w/o sugar before I came, but that has gone out the window. Coffee is made by boiling water on the stove and filtering it through a cloth sieve thingy. Not great coffee...apparently Honduras exports all the quality stuff and sells the overpriced crappy stuff to Hondurans. But let's not get into that now.
Most days I eat tortilla con quesillo which is 2 tortillas with melty, salty cheese in the middle, fried til crispy. Some days its just sweet bread and rosquillas (salty, hard bread) with coffee. Randomly we have pancakes (or panqueques in Spanish) or occasionally "plato tipico" for breakfast, which will be explained in the dinner section.
Lunch: This is the main meal of the day. I am lucky I live close to my office and I go home for lunch every day. We usually have some kind of meat, rice, a side of veggies or potatoes and tortillas. Some days, my host mom will make tacos or enchiladas, which are my favorites. On the not so lucky days (and always the hottest days) we have soup. Sometimes with beans and eggs, sometimes with large pieces of meat and lots of startchy add-ins: yucca, potato, green banana, rice...yes, all 4 at the same time.
Dinner: Our dinners are pretty standard at my house, so it's called plato tipico (rough translation: typical plate). We usually have scrambled eggs, beans (red, of course :), queso seco (salty, dry cheese) and tortillas. Most Hondurans will eat all of this with "mantequilla" which is basically runny sour cream. I'm not such a fan, so I usually leave it for the rest. Occasionally we'll have fried plantains or fried green banana...or some variation on the beans/cheese/eggs theme. I really love it and have gotten used to having this almost every night. When I am away for a few nights, I really miss my plato tipico.
Then there are Honduran specialties and snacks...
Baleadas: These are one of my favorite things...a flour tortilla (freshly made!) with liquified beans (think refried, but better), cheese, mantequilla and occasionally scrambled egg. These are eaten any time of day...breakfast, mid-morning snack, dinner, late evening snack...you get the picture.
Pupusas: These are also popular. More for when you go out to eat or for a special event. It's dough with melted cheese in the middle, some times with beans or a bit of sausage added in. Also delicious. I helped make these to raise funds for our church (see previous post about pupusas).
Tajaditas: Fried green banana. Sounds weird, but kinda turns out like a potato chip. Can be thin and crispy or thicker and more like potato wedges. Often served with a tomato sauce and cabbage salad. The downside is, when not made at home, they come with chicken feet!!! It totally grosses me out. I pick those out for my brothers and then eat the rest :)
<--yes, thats a fried chicken foot on top of my snack. g-ross.
My Honduran diet is also made complete by other random treats now and again...this could be a sushi splurge with my girlfriends, pizza out with the family (they love Little Caesars!), frozen yogurt at the mall, or bumming a meal from MCC friends who have their own kitchen and can decide what to eat.
Let's just say, I do not lack for good food...but I am looking forward to some home cooking when I get back.
Breakfast: Always coffee...made with WAY too much sugar. I was almost able to drink coffee w/o sugar before I came, but that has gone out the window. Coffee is made by boiling water on the stove and filtering it through a cloth sieve thingy. Not great coffee...apparently Honduras exports all the quality stuff and sells the overpriced crappy stuff to Hondurans. But let's not get into that now.
Most days I eat tortilla con quesillo which is 2 tortillas with melty, salty cheese in the middle, fried til crispy. Some days its just sweet bread and rosquillas (salty, hard bread) with coffee. Randomly we have pancakes (or panqueques in Spanish) or occasionally "plato tipico" for breakfast, which will be explained in the dinner section.
 |
| mini watermelons! |
 |
| kitchen stove with tajaditas and pork |
Then there are Honduran specialties and snacks...
Baleadas: These are one of my favorite things...a flour tortilla (freshly made!) with liquified beans (think refried, but better), cheese, mantequilla and occasionally scrambled egg. These are eaten any time of day...breakfast, mid-morning snack, dinner, late evening snack...you get the picture.
Pupusas: These are also popular. More for when you go out to eat or for a special event. It's dough with melted cheese in the middle, some times with beans or a bit of sausage added in. Also delicious. I helped make these to raise funds for our church (see previous post about pupusas).
Tajaditas: Fried green banana. Sounds weird, but kinda turns out like a potato chip. Can be thin and crispy or thicker and more like potato wedges. Often served with a tomato sauce and cabbage salad. The downside is, when not made at home, they come with chicken feet!!! It totally grosses me out. I pick those out for my brothers and then eat the rest :)<--yes, thats a fried chicken foot on top of my snack. g-ross.
 |
| sushi boat! |
Let's just say, I do not lack for good food...but I am looking forward to some home cooking when I get back.
March 28, 2011
cultural-izing
Last week I sent an email asking friends and family for ideas about blog posts…mostly things they are curious about that I might be overlooking or neglecting to talk about. One friend asked how my own culturalization process is going, which has given me a lot to think about. My word processor is telling me that ‘culturalization’ is not a word…but I like it, so I’ll use it anyway. To me, it means, how am I adapting to the culture, what things have been a struggle, and what things are changing me as I learn more and more about how Hondurans live and think.
After 7 months in Honduras, I feel like I have pretty adequate expectations for how things will happen or what to expect. For example, I have become accustomed to the phrases “ya vengo,” “ya llego” and ahorita. All of these phrases, literally translated, communicate a sense of immediacy—‘I’m coming now,’ ‘I’m arriving now,’ and ‘right now.’ But over time, you learn that ‘right now’ can mean in the next 5 minutes, or next 55 minutes. This has definitely been an adjustment for me, a very punctual person; however, I’m learning that it’s not offensive to be late, as it is in my home culture. Hondurans are much more people oriented than time oriented, and I’m learning to love this mentality. I’m not late because I don’t care about you and your schedule…I’m late because someone else interrupted the plan and it would be rude to brush them off, so I gave them my full attention first. I appreciate the value placed on people, even when it does mean I spend 45 minutes at a bus stop waiting for my host brother to get around to picking me up!
I find it challenging to fully reflect on how I am adjusting and adapting to culture in Honduras because the longer I am here, the less “weird” certain things seem. The differences in culture are most highlighted for me when I have visitors from the states with me and they comment on all the things that I think are rather normal. This could range from my shower routine, use of water in the house, and food to home remedies when one is sick, church customs and even prejudices. All of these things are part of my host family’s culture and I have begun to learn how to adapt to all of these things, even though they may be 100% different from the way I live in the states.
January 28, 2011
lists
As you might note from some of my blog posts, I really enjoy lists. Sometimes it is just easier to collect your thoughts in a bullet-pointed kind of way...and in other ways, it's just something I do rather compulsively.
I have made lists of all sorts of things since I've been here, like my 'Funny T-shirts in English' list, my 'Cosas Catrachas' (Honduran-isms) list, a list of books I've read, quotes from the books I've read, and a personal favorite, my list of 'Fun times with Allison,' as we have had many random, ridiculous happenings since the beginning of our friendship in September.
So I thought maybe it would be fun to share some favorites from my lists...
Honduranisms
1. Dinamicas- this might have been mentioned in a previous post regarding birthdays, but Hondurans LOVE dinamicas. they are like, little party games or ice breaker type activities that are a requirement for any office gathering here at MCM...and often occur at church gatherings and even family events. They can be quite stressful for the foreigner and often are embarrassing.
2. Que barbaridad- this is a frequently used and very popular saying among Hondurans. It literally translates to mean 'what a barbarity' but communicates a rather large variety of sentiments. In fact, my fellow SALTer, Alison, wrote a whole post on this phrase! It is used when something dramatic happens in life--like your brother won't get off the couch to get you a glass of Coke (que barbaridad)...something costs way more than it should (like a taxi ride for a gringa...que barbaridad)...someone you know got robbed (¡que barbaridad!)...all the way up to very serious offenses in life, like someone betraying your trust or hurting your family (¡¡que barbaridad!!) I learned this phrase very quickly, and use it very often, as it is a good comeback for sarcastic quips, or can communicate genuine sympathy for something crappy in life.
I have made lists of all sorts of things since I've been here, like my 'Funny T-shirts in English' list, my 'Cosas Catrachas' (Honduran-isms) list, a list of books I've read, quotes from the books I've read, and a personal favorite, my list of 'Fun times with Allison,' as we have had many random, ridiculous happenings since the beginning of our friendship in September.
So I thought maybe it would be fun to share some favorites from my lists...
Honduranisms
1. Dinamicas- this might have been mentioned in a previous post regarding birthdays, but Hondurans LOVE dinamicas. they are like, little party games or ice breaker type activities that are a requirement for any office gathering here at MCM...and often occur at church gatherings and even family events. They can be quite stressful for the foreigner and often are embarrassing.
2. Que barbaridad- this is a frequently used and very popular saying among Hondurans. It literally translates to mean 'what a barbarity' but communicates a rather large variety of sentiments. In fact, my fellow SALTer, Alison, wrote a whole post on this phrase! It is used when something dramatic happens in life--like your brother won't get off the couch to get you a glass of Coke (que barbaridad)...something costs way more than it should (like a taxi ride for a gringa...que barbaridad)...someone you know got robbed (¡que barbaridad!)...all the way up to very serious offenses in life, like someone betraying your trust or hurting your family (¡¡que barbaridad!!) I learned this phrase very quickly, and use it very often, as it is a good comeback for sarcastic quips, or can communicate genuine sympathy for something crappy in life.
October 29, 2010
things i think i think...but haven't figured out.
I really want to have a post about a 'typical day' here in my Nueva Suyapa life...but as I tried to piece together an outline, I realized no two days are the same. I mean, there are routines and things that happen pretty much in the same manner every day...the shower routine at my house, meal routine 3 times a day, the walking to work routine, the staring at the gringa and cat-calling routine...
But really, each day there are new adventures, experiences you never could have expected. I've taken on the philosophy of always going along for the ride. If someone invites me to go do something, whether it be a simple errand, a trip 'abajo' (down the hill to the city) or even a walk to the corner pulperia (store)--I just go! Ok, partly because I usually am looking for something to break up the time in the office (!) but also because I am certain it will undoubtedly be a good story...at minimum, a good way to get to know people.
Example: There is a lady who sells newspapers in the colonia every day. She usually stops by the office to chat, and she knows the 3 people who will always buy the daily issue. This woman has been very pregnant ever since I got here...they assure me she's worked like this before, and she will be selling papers until the day she has the baby. So my coworker put together a baby gift for her, as the woman is pretty poor and she doesn't really have any clothes for the baby. Oh, another cultural moment--someone buys a gift and you are told how much to contribute so that its covered...not asked, just told to give 50 Lempiras. awesome.
So, then one day the woman (oh, another cultural thing, we don't know her name! she's just the woman who sells newspapers) doesn't show up. This means we must go find her house and give her the gift. But wait- no one knows where she lives! Here is a rough transcription in English...
Karina: "So, you're going to go with us to give her the gift, right Charissa?"
Me: "Um...sure. Are we walking there?"
K: "well, we have to walk around and see who knows where she lives. but we'll find it"
Me: "yeah, but how? Does Marvin know where she lives?"
K: "no, but we're going now to find her."
Me: "Ok, but like, how will we know?"
K: "marvin will drive us there."
(At this point I stop asking questions. Just go, Charissa. Its bound to be an adventure.)
Ok...I am also leaving out some details about transport...but I need to you to get the flavor of these exchanges. We spent 20 minutes before lunch debating if we could take a moto...but no, 3 people was too many for the moto. So then we waited til after lunch, argued with Marvin for about 1 hour to go get his truck. Then we thought it wasn't happening...then he randomly shows up and is like "lets go lets go! get in the truck right now!"...so we went! immediately.
So we drive down the hill to the newspaper stand...ask the lady there if she knows the pregnant newspaper seller...turns out the one we are looking for is her sister-in-law! I have no idea how this happened...but it worked out, and we left the gift with her. We are turned around, about to go back up the hill, when my coworkers realize that our boss is out for the day...so this means we need to "tomar un cafecito" (like, have a little coffee). We turn around to go further down the hill and head to Dunkin' Donuts. It was a crazy time at the restaurant with 2 of my favorite coworkers, who were paranoid the entire time that our boss was right around the corner. But it was really fun...felt like we were in college and skipping class! We also had a generally hilarious time in the truck, singing songs in English (oh wait, that was mostly me) and getting to know each other better.
All in a day's work, as I like to say.
There are also other stories...the day of my boss' birthday, where we left for about an hour to take a taxi to buy a last minute cake...how I get in on farewell parties the banks have for their out-going loan officers and I wait for an hour for people to show up to the party...how I come back from lunch and they are fumigating the office because of Dengue and I can't be in the office for 2 hours...I mean, lots of stuff like this that make me laugh continually and give me good journal entries. I love it. And I'm hoping that was coherent enough that you get some insight into my life here and can appreciate the humor too.
But really, each day there are new adventures, experiences you never could have expected. I've taken on the philosophy of always going along for the ride. If someone invites me to go do something, whether it be a simple errand, a trip 'abajo' (down the hill to the city) or even a walk to the corner pulperia (store)--I just go! Ok, partly because I usually am looking for something to break up the time in the office (!) but also because I am certain it will undoubtedly be a good story...at minimum, a good way to get to know people.
Example: There is a lady who sells newspapers in the colonia every day. She usually stops by the office to chat, and she knows the 3 people who will always buy the daily issue. This woman has been very pregnant ever since I got here...they assure me she's worked like this before, and she will be selling papers until the day she has the baby. So my coworker put together a baby gift for her, as the woman is pretty poor and she doesn't really have any clothes for the baby. Oh, another cultural moment--someone buys a gift and you are told how much to contribute so that its covered...not asked, just told to give 50 Lempiras. awesome.
So, then one day the woman (oh, another cultural thing, we don't know her name! she's just the woman who sells newspapers) doesn't show up. This means we must go find her house and give her the gift. But wait- no one knows where she lives! Here is a rough transcription in English...
Karina: "So, you're going to go with us to give her the gift, right Charissa?"
Me: "Um...sure. Are we walking there?"
K: "well, we have to walk around and see who knows where she lives. but we'll find it"
Me: "yeah, but how? Does Marvin know where she lives?"
K: "no, but we're going now to find her."
Me: "Ok, but like, how will we know?"
K: "marvin will drive us there."
(At this point I stop asking questions. Just go, Charissa. Its bound to be an adventure.)
Ok...I am also leaving out some details about transport...but I need to you to get the flavor of these exchanges. We spent 20 minutes before lunch debating if we could take a moto...but no, 3 people was too many for the moto. So then we waited til after lunch, argued with Marvin for about 1 hour to go get his truck. Then we thought it wasn't happening...then he randomly shows up and is like "lets go lets go! get in the truck right now!"...so we went! immediately.
So we drive down the hill to the newspaper stand...ask the lady there if she knows the pregnant newspaper seller...turns out the one we are looking for is her sister-in-law! I have no idea how this happened...but it worked out, and we left the gift with her. We are turned around, about to go back up the hill, when my coworkers realize that our boss is out for the day...so this means we need to "tomar un cafecito" (like, have a little coffee). We turn around to go further down the hill and head to Dunkin' Donuts. It was a crazy time at the restaurant with 2 of my favorite coworkers, who were paranoid the entire time that our boss was right around the corner. But it was really fun...felt like we were in college and skipping class! We also had a generally hilarious time in the truck, singing songs in English (oh wait, that was mostly me) and getting to know each other better.
All in a day's work, as I like to say.
There are also other stories...the day of my boss' birthday, where we left for about an hour to take a taxi to buy a last minute cake...how I get in on farewell parties the banks have for their out-going loan officers and I wait for an hour for people to show up to the party...how I come back from lunch and they are fumigating the office because of Dengue and I can't be in the office for 2 hours...I mean, lots of stuff like this that make me laugh continually and give me good journal entries. I love it. And I'm hoping that was coherent enough that you get some insight into my life here and can appreciate the humor too.
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