Yes, I am alive in the blogosphere. If you know me personally, get ready to hear my voice yodeling these witty remarks for the last time of the year.
Anyways, it’s been a whirlwind of a week since I hopped into a plane and travelled back to my family’s native country of Honduras. The adventure on the plane was certainly different. I had to fly first class being a minor with my sister so they gave us MEALS I couldn’t even finish. Mountains of salmon (A vegetarian dream) and some frisky fruit which pleasured me as I watched suicide squad for the first time. Picture this : Zooming at who knows how many miles in the blooming sky, observing and absorbing all that the little specs of your eyes can get a grasp on, and at first glance, mistaking clouds, as city skyscrapers before reality sets in.
The first morning I was here, I called it home for some odd reason. Maybe it’s the colorful houses that scream my aesthetic or the people running and hollering down the street. This sounds weird, but geez this place is so different than where my real house is, down to the orange juice. The orange juice here tastes good, like back at home, but it tastes like real oranges. For a good hour, I was questioning us (we North Americans). If this is what real natural is, what are brands such as Tropicana or Florida “naturals” providing us? Are these chemicals and flavoring substituting how it’s supposed to be? Come to think of it, ORANGE JUICE DOESNT EVEN TASTE LIKE ORANGES BACK IN CONNECTICUT. As my friend said once, “Wake up America!”
Besides that, I’ve counted all the mosquito bites I have on my precious body, the grand total came down to a whopping 54. Also, I referred to by body as precious simply because I have to cherish it, I, with the 54 bites has come to realize that this is the only body I’m going to get.
I stopped by my cousin’s (We never crossed paths) where the only visual on the tv screen was an image of Donald Trump, proceeded by my 11 year old cousin screaming to his dad (I assume my uncle? I’m sorry…my dad is 1/20) “There’s that crazy man! Look, Pa! The one i was talking about!” It made me realize that Pitbull (not the dog guys) was right ALL ALONG when he said “This is worldwide, dalé!”
I too have gotten a glimpse of politics over here, passing by murals of art dissing politicians of their own blood over towns. One, I recall, having a mans name written then followed with messy handwriting with, in summary : “He doesn’t care about us poor folk, he never will, don’t feed into this lie made by his rich friends.” Just yesterday, there was a political rally across the street, I don’t know who it was for but I enjoyed lurking behind some luxurious bushes and soil that will make your toes never wish for treatment again aha. There was chanting, a lot of it, names especially. There were promises being made over the loudspeaker with folks smiling so wide it blinded little ol’ me, with poor vision already.
Speaking of smiles, I visited an animal sanctuary (Is that the word?). Consider this a reminder that we need to take care of the Earth and our animals at all costs 🙂 . I was in the presence of crocodiles, monkeys, manatees (sad that I forgot these dudes existed) in the water, and more all while being free in a tiny remote island with a large body of sea. It was quite the informative boat ride around the whole place.
In the past few days, I’ve been going through some kind of identity crisis. To Natives, it’s easy to spot that I’m not from around. Whispers behind my back, “She’s from the North, she’s got to be.” I’ve actually been called a Gringa but I laugh it off because one thing I’ve learned is that, Honduras people love to joke. Even to me, I can spot the tourists with no problem. I mean, they make it incredibly obvious. Going off topic, at the sanctuary, I ran into these tourist with their big cameras and luggage. However, I seem like a native to them. I stopped in front of one of them, her pale face hesitant with her voice and tone just to mutter “Hola!”. I responded with a “Hey!” which left her BEYOND SHOOK. I’m still laughing.
I’m literally living in a place with roosters in the backyard, where the neighbors have horses as we have dogs and cats. I’m from a place where for Christmas, we smoke off fireworks that make car alarms go off. I’m from a place where nearly everyone knows how to ride a motorcycle. I’m from a place that tourists describe as heaven on Earth. I’m from a place where the natives describe hell in land form.
L8r dudes !