Dirty Feet

My roommate in college, Drew, and I used to fight for the shower. It seemed we both had trouble with time management. When I would rightfully lose my first showerer position, but unscrupulously take it anyways, the shower would always be frigid for me, no matter how long I waited. As soon as he stepped in, it would warm up. He claimed to be the "Once and Future Showerer." I've tried this approach the first few days I have been in Honduras, but no matter how long I wait...it stays cold. That's it.

There is no hot water.

This is ok. An icy shower is a blessing every morning. It is so damn hot. When I ran three miles in the midst of a sweltering Virginian summer, I never sweated, only glistened. I sweat 96% of the day in Juticalpa, Honduras - the other 4%, I'm in the shower.

I'm not complaining. I love it. It's one of the few things that I've come to adore here already after only a few days. My showers are cold, there are lizards in my toaster, and my feet are always dirty.

Honduras is very green, very poor and very pure. The houses are what you would expect - broken and fragile, but somehow their chaos is beautiful. It's simplicity in its truest form.

The simplicity does come at a price though. You can't drink the water here of course, the streets are littered with homeless and thin street-savvy dogs and everyone is literally surviving. Despite all this, la gente are so happy. Everyone has been very helpful, kind and willing to put up with my trying classroom Spanish, which is already improving a lot. Everyone here is a hard and honest worker and respectful of each other MINUS the incessant cat calls.

Despite all the "Hey baby cutie" comments, I love this simple place, and I love my dirty feet - it makes me feel a little less like a gringa.