Bed Bugs

Not For the Faint of Heart

One thing that I have grown accustomed to in Honduras is the prevalence of excessively large and creepy bugs. I encounter cockroaches more than anything else, which don’t bother me as much as they used to. They usually run around in my bathroom at night, but I’m always expecting them so they never surprise me. I also keep an old running shoe handy, which has found new life as a cockroach killer.

One night, not long after going to sleep, I was lying in bed when I suddenly felt something strange. I couldn’t tell whether I had just imagined feeling something crawl over my face and neck, or if it was just my sheets flapping in the breeze of my fan. I didn’t want to take chances. I launched out of my bed, simultaneously turning on the light switch and spastically brushing all over my body to rid myself of any possible creature. With the light on I looked at my bed, expecting to see a large cockroach perhaps. I still wasn’t sure if I had indeed felt anything, and wouldn’t have been surprised to find nothing. I moved my sheets around, and then turned over my pillow.

And there it was. A giant. Friggin. Ugly. MOTHER-FLIPPIN’ TARANTULA. Holy crap holy crap!!! I definitely let out some sort of cry that wasn’t 100% masculine (but thankfully, as I mentioned in another post, my walls are mostly soundproof). I leapt to grab my trusty shoe, and hesitated for a moment as I poised to strike. I didn’t want to miss, as they can move pretty quickly, and are good at hiding. Finally, I brought the shoe down and with one fell swoop crushed the sucker. I let out a sigh of relief as I saw its corpse lying motionless in my bed. In the process of disposing of the body, I decided to take pictures to prove to the world my horror and triumph:

This was actually my second encounter with a tarantula. The first was about a month earlier, back in Las Cañadas. I was just about to go to bed, when I noticed something strange on the floor on the other side of the room. Again, I let out a not-so-masculine cry as I realized what it was. Unfortunately, the house was not remotely sound proof and everyone could hear me (though they didn’t seem to pay attention to me at first). With a bit of adrenaline flowing through my veins, I carefully grabbed a boot and inched my way towards the tarantula. I planned the motion I would take as I swung down for the kill, and got as close as I could without scaring it away.

Then came the moment of truth. I swung down with all my might, but at the last second it scurried away into the corner of my room, hiding under some shelves. The area of the room was inaccessible without completely overturning all of the furniture, and I didn’t want to create a huge disturbance as everyone was going to bed. There was also a chance that it had crawled under a crack in the wall to the adjacent room, where the rest of the family slept. I let them know what was going on, and they just laughed. It didn’t seem to scare them as much.

Not knowing where the tarantula was, I decided to just go to sleep. It was pure willpower that allowed me to do so. I started to imagine that it would crawl all over me and bite me during the night, but I just told myself it wouldn’t, and that it was probably gone. Somehow it worked, and I slept soundly. There was no sign of it the next morning, and I had survived without being bitten.

The next afternoon I came home and there was a plastic bag on a shelf outside my room with something strange inside. Upon further inspection, I realized it was the corpse of a Tarantula. As it turns out, Gloria had moved the furniture around inside my room to find it as she was cleaning. She remembered where I said it had run off to in my room the night before, and apparently it was still there. She killed it without hesitation, as apparently they don’t scare her at all. Toads bother her, but not tarantulas. Go figure. Like I’ve said a bunch before, I had the best host family during training.

The Real Menace

Though cockroaches and tarantulas are easily the most disgusting and creepy creatures that I have to deal with, by far the most bothersome have in fact been the crickets. Those darn grillos. They’re slightly louder and more annoying sounding than those that could be heard at night back in the States. To make things worse, they hide inside cracks in my door where I can’t quite reach them. They never bothered me at all during training, but they manifested themselves clearly on my first night in Teupasenti.

They wait until the moment when I am just about to fall asleep, and then they start ‘singing’. It’s too loud to ignore, so I begin the hunt. As I mentioned, they hide. I use an old credit card to slide up and down the crack between the door frame and the wall, but most of the time they just crawl deeper inside, out of my reach. The commotion from my attempt causes them to quiet down, so I return to my bed and try to go back to sleep.

Then, as if they are watching me, they begin to screech again as soon I as start to relax and believe that I had scared them away for good. I debate for a moment if it is possible to just ignore them. Perhaps if I try to think about something else, the sound will blend in and it won’t bother me. Mind over matter. I have even tried plugging my ears with balled-up toilet paper. Of course, none of that ever works. I begrudgingly rise again from my bed and walk across the room to find where they are hiding. The whole dance repeats, and there are usually four or five sessions before I can bother them to the point that they stay quiet sufficiently long enough for me to be able to fall asleep. Eventually I started using bug spray to squirt at them in their hiding places in an attempt to scare them away for a longer period of time. It worked most nights, but then I started to worry about how long my bug spray supply would last at the rate I was consuming it.

One night, however, I got lucky. I sprayed into the crack, and out popped a cricket. Squish. Then, to my surprise, another popped out. Squish number two. I peered into the crack and noticed several more. A couple of sprays later and the entire family started to make a run for it. A fatal mistake. One by one, I crushed them all. Big ones, little ones, children, grandparents, cousins… All dead. I must have killed ten in all. Some of you may cry for the sanctity of life, but in that moment I appealed to Utilitarianism. The good I will be able to do for this world with the help of a consistent good night’s sleep will most likely outweigh the contribution that those useless crickets could possibly have made.

I haven’t heard a single cricket in my room since that fateful night, a few weeks ago now.

Coming Next Week(ish):

                                                                                          

It’s not all just fun and games here. I have in fact been doing some work, and in my next post I will write about what has been going on to date on that subject.

Welcome to Paradise

This Sunday I will already have been in my site for a full month, though it feels like I just got here.

Teupasenti, El Paraíso

On my last blog I left off talking about how I had arrived in Teupasenti (Teupa). I slept my first night at my counterpart’s house, but the next night I went to move into the house Peace Corps assigned to me. They did a great job placing me in a home, as I am very comfortable where I am. I have a large room with a comfortable bed, and I even have my own bathroom. There’s actually a functional shower in the bathroom that even sort of has hot water, but it’s not something you can really depend on. I say ‘sort of’ because only one of the six or so streams of water that come out of the showerhead is hot, but it’s hot enough to make it feel comfortable. However, the problem is that the shower doesn’t work every day. The water in the town only works for a few hours a day, if it comes on at all. I was spoiled my first week, but then it only worked one day during the second. The letdown of expecting a hot shower is almost worse than not having one, so now every day I wake up assuming there is no water. The first thing I do after getting out of my bed is check the sink faucet in my bathroom. If there’s water, it’s a lucky day. If not, I just go to the kitchen to start heating up some water on the stove to use for a bucket bath.

Here are some pictures of my room:

If you noticed that it’s really messy, that just means that I’ve gotten very comfortable.

As for the family, they’re all really nice. I live with the grandmother of the family (Lidia), who is laid back and a great host. She also happens to make great coffee, usually at the times when I need it most. Overall I get a lot of privacy. Also, my room happens to be quite sound-resistant. It’s situated in such a spot in the middle of the house that I’m never bothered by noise in the streets (roosters, dogs, motorcycles, etc.). The only problem with this is that it means my room is not well ventilated, but having a fan running while I sleep cures that problem.

The owner of the house is the mother of the family (Maria), who actually lives just around the corner from my house. She cooks my meals for me, so I spend a decent amount of my day over at her house. Though she isn’t always punctual, she definitely goes out of her way to make sure I’m comfortable, and she can cook pretty well. She has teenagers and a five-year-old, all of which are easy to get along with. Both of the older ones, Gerardo and Alexandra, have a good sense of humor and are to fun to hang out with (and are also more entertained by a game of UNO that one would think is possible). The five-year-old girl, Genesis/Paloma/Daniella (I swear everyone in this country has 7 names) is very cute, and calls me Tío Peter.

Finally, one of the more interesting members of the family is Maria’s brother, Gonzalo, known to most as the ‘Mudo’. He was born deaf, but they call him a mute as well (sordomudo) since he has never formally learned to communicate or read. I think we take it for granted in the United States that if someone is born as such, that they will be able to learn sign language and other skills to help with the disability. However, in Honduras, schools that teach sign language are only found in Tegucigalpa, and are definitely not accessible or affordable to the average citizen.

Despite the lack of resources available to him, he has done quite well for himself. He owns and runs his own billiard club in town, and is also a mechanic. It boggles my mind to imagine what that learning process was like for him. I actually have spent a lot of time thinking about him and about what his life must be like. Since he can’t fully communicate, it’s almost as if he’s trapped in his own world. There’s so much we would think that he’s missing, not being able to hear or read, but at the same time there are things that probably aren’t so bad to miss. I think of the Who’s rock opera ‘Tommy’ (the deaf, dumb, and blind pinball champion), especially the song ‘Christmas’: “Tommy doesn’t know what day it is / doesn’t know who Jesus was or what praying is.” Though he’s never been formally taught about God and can’t read the Bible, I’d actually say that perhaps he knows Him better than most. He is always extremely positive, constantly smiling, and likes to try to joke around with you. His spirit and his accomplishments seem to me to be a thing of God.

I also think there are some positives to not being able to hear or read. There are some things in this world that wouldn’t be so bad to not know about. Sure he doesn’t know about Jesus (formally), but at the same time he doesn’t have to hear about war, genocide, or people such as Hitler in this world. He’s free to perceive the world as he wishes- he doesn’t have to let the negativity of others bring him down. He may have never listened to the Beatles, but he’s also never heard cries of pain or declarations of hate. He’s never heard anyone say in words that they love him, but I doubt he needs words to know that is so.

Sometimes I feel like I can relate with him. I wonder if he even knows that I have trouble communicating at times as well, if he even understands the idea that there are different languages in this world. Whatever the case may be, he’s always great to be around. I even went for a run with him one day, which was fun. We’ve tried to go again, but (using his invented sign language) he has been telling me lately that the field is too muddy from all of the rain to go running in. I’m sure we’ll go again soon.

I have too much to write about… I’ll leave the rest for a second (and possibly 3^rd!) post.

Goodbye, For Now

Our Group Parts Ways, Friday, September 23^rd

I woke up at 4AM, as our bus was arriving at 5. I had stayed up late packing, thus I didn’t really get any sleep. After packing my last couple of items in the morning, it was time to head out. My host brother, Mario, helped me carry all of my bags up the steep hill that leads to the street. Gloria also helped to carry my smallest bag. I clearly had the most stuff out of anyone in the entire group, and when our bus arrived I was worried there wouldn’t be enough space for everyone and all of our bags (it was a smaller kind of bus that they have around Honduras). We were able to stack all of our bags into a giant pile on the back of the bus, and there ended up being plenty of room.

I gave Gloria a hug goodbye, shook Mario’s hand, boarded the bus, and that was the last I saw of them (for now!). I really think I had the best host family of the entire group. I was sad to say goodbye, but I knew I would see them again soon. I’m invited back for Christmas, and it should be pretty easy to visit them more often than that. It’s only 60 Limpiras to take a bus to Teguz (about $3), and another 20 Limps to Valle De Angeles. Worst case scenario, I would have to take a taxi to the different bus stations, but at the worst that would only cost $4 or $5. Also, my counterpart in Teupasenti has a house in Teguz where his family stays. He lives with them on the weekends and offered to take me any time he goes, and even will let me stay at his house (and feed me!). This should make it even easier to visit them every once in a while.

Anyways, back to the story. I decided to sit in the back to keep an eye on the mountain of suitcases. However, just as I was sitting down, an alarm started going off. It was instantly recognizable as one of our portable safety alarms. You can stick it on the wall next to your bed and press the button for an alarm if some sort of emergency were to occur. I packed mine away somewhere the day I got it and didn’t really have any intention of setting it up. The sound it makes isn’t exactly what you want to hear at an emotional moment at 5AM. I started moving some bags around to figure out who the culprit was (I was hoping to give the culprit a really hard time). Moving the bags around, I realized the worst. It was coming from my own bag. It was at the very bottom of my large hiking backpack, tucked way down at the bottom. I fumbled through my bag for what felt like several minutes as the rest of the group started harassing me about it. Even though they were joking, the noise was so obnoxious that I was stressing to get it out as soon as possible. Finally, from the depths of my whale of a backpack, I pulled out the obstruction. About the size of a golf ball, I held it high for all to see and gently turned the switch to ‘off’.

Just after, the bus started to head towards Teguz. Someone joked about how we had better make the conversation a good one, and fast, as it was our last moment together as a group. However, simply stating that pressure was enough to get us started talking. I can’t remember what we talked about, probably Honduran snack foods or how our bodily functions had altered in our new country. No topic was taboo for our group, as we had all became very close very quickly. However, far too soon we would be separated.

When we arrived at the hotel I called my counterpart to have him come and pick me up. However, as I learned later, the number that I had was incorrect and I couldn’t get a hold of him. Although I wanted to just get to his house and rest, I was glad for the opportunity to lounge in the hotel lobby and continue to chat. Thirty minutes later my counterpart arrived and I loaded my bags into his pickup and gave everyone a hug goodbye. As was with my host family, I knew it was just goodbye for now.

From Teguz to Teupa

Most of the rest of the day is a blur, as I was half asleep the whole time. We stayed at my counterpart’s house in Teguz for a couple hours, where I had the chance to take a shower and then meet his family. They’re quite nice, and I look forward to hanging out with them on the weekends from time to time.

Instead of heading straight to Teupasenti, I followed my counterpart around the city as he went to visit former high school students of his to record their progress in some sort of internship program they were participating in. I felt very important walking tall through downtown Teguz and stopping by various office buildings and one of the universities. However, there were about ten different students to visit in ten separate locations. We had only visited half of them by lunch time, and we returned to his house to eat. He could tell I was really tired so he offered to let me stay and sleep at the house. His son (only a couple years younger than I) let me use his bed. The whole family ended up going out to run errands for the afternoon, thus I was left alone in the house. Perhaps I should have felt alone or afraid as I laid there by myself in a strange bed, in a strange house, in a strange city, in a strange country, and in the care of people that were basically strangers. But the truth is, I felt strangely fine. 

A few hours later my counterpart and I were ready to head to Teupa. We loaded his pickup truck with my suitcases again and hit the road. It was about a two-hour journey, packed with some breath-taking views of expansive valleys and accompanying mountain ranges. The feeling the scenery evokes is lost in a photograph, as even that medium fails to convey the grandeur of it all. It’s a kind of beauty that only exists in this region of the world, and I hope that any of you would have the opportunity to experience it for yourself someday.

We arrived in Teupa around 7:30, and it was already too dark to get a sense of what my new town looked like. We pulled into his house, where I spent the night. We figured it was a little too late to stop by the house of the family that I was actually assigned to live with. We talked in his living room very briefly, and then I went to bed early. Even with my afternoon nap, I was still overtired from all of the traveling.

More to come!

The End of the Beginning

Ok, so it’s been a while since my last post. A lot of things have happened since then, but I don’t have anywhere near enough time to go into all of it. There’s no point in recounting the excitement of us learning about our sites, as here I am, already in my new home. Independence day would be neat to write about, but it seems so long ago now. The weekend before we left the entire group went out for a party that we titled ‘Peace Corps Prom’, which was great. You can see the pictures to get an idea of how that went.

I guess I’ll just skip ahead to our swearing-in ceremony.

Ceremony at the U.S. Embassy, Thursday, September 22^nd.

The whole day is a blur now. In the morning we went to Tegucigalpa to meet our counterparts. I met the principal of the High School I will be working at, but we didn’t get much of a chance to really talk. As a group we sat through some charlas to discuss things such as expectations for our work in the future. Truth be told I was only half paying attention, as the anticipation of the approaching ceremony occupied my mind.

Early in the afternoon they shipped our entire group to the Embassy. The grounds were beautiful, and we spent a while just taking pictures. For some reason I decided to take a picture of myself in the reflection of the door that leads to the inner part of the complex. I never take those ‘myspace’ style photos (where you take a picture of yourself looking at a mirror), but for that split second it seemed like a good idea. Almost immediately after, one of the officials at the embassy asked me sternly but calmly if he could look through my photos. Turns out it’s a security risk to take pictures of the doorways in an embassy. All I had to do was delete the one photo, and after a slight moment of embarrassment I went back out to the grounds.

The ceremony itself was great. There were speeches by our directors, the ambassador, a youth that had a personal testimony about how his life was affected by a Peace Corps Volunteer, and of course a speech by one of our own volunteers, Constance. Her speech was great, and right after that all fifteen of our group of volunteers went on stage to sing ‘Peace Train’ by Cat Stevens. One of our group members, Chris (probably my best friend of all the volunteers, and an amazing guitar player) was asked by our director to prepare a musical event for the ceremony. He ended up playing guitar on stage, while the rest of our group sang the chorus as we stood behind him. The song went just as we practiced.

 

After the ceremony, we got to hang out and enjoy some refreshments. We took full advantage of our final opportunities to hang out and joke around as a group. Even on our way home (in our fully-loaded Peace Corps Land Rover) we continued to enjoy ourselves. Hotel California came on the radio, and we sang it out loud at the top of our lungs with the windows down through the streets of Teguz. None of us completely knew the words or could sing particularly well, but it didn’t matter. As much fun as I was having, inside I felt a little sad knowing that in 24 hours the world I had grown accustomed to in the past three months would completely change.

When we got back home, I was excited for dinner. Gloria asked me what I had wanted, and I told her pizza (of course). However, when I arrived they told me that they weren’t able to get all of the ingredients together in time, so they made tacos for me instead. Keep in mind they aren’t really like anything you would call a taco in the United States. Though I didn’t enjoy them anywhere near as much as I would have enjoyed pizza, I appreciated the gesture of them making a special meal for me all the same. When we were done eating I gave them a small parting gift. I ended up buying them a few mugs, as my host mother and I had a little bit of an inside joke. Three mugs had been broken during the span of one week during my stay. A couple of the times it was because I put a mug I had used on the edge of the counter, and Gloria then accidentally knocked them onto the floor. The third mug was broken entirely by Gloria and had absolutely nothing to do with me. Thus, I thought it would be a cute parting gift, and they liked it.

More coming soon! I was going to make one really long post, but I haven't finished writing everything, so I figure I'll just post this for now