¡Estoy aquí!

My clothes are sticking to me, I’m sure I smell terrible, and I feel like I never learned one Spanish word in my life—but I’m here.

I’ve been on El Rancho now for maybe two hours, although everything seems too surreal to actually be true. Am I really sitting in the tiny “internet café” (more a small covered cement patio with worn wooden desks) just kilometers outside of Tegucigalpa? Will I really wake up here tomorrow morning in my corner bunk bed in the volunteer house? After a pretty much sleepless night in Houston airport and plenty of anxious thoughts to keep me company, both of my bags came through (small miracles) and two friendly faces were waiting to greet me outside of customs.

I’ve just heard that Mel (ex-pres Zelaya) is currently trying to squeeze his way into the country through Nicaragua’s border. Driving through the bustling capital and stopping at the mall for a cell phone ($17 US) and groceries, you’d have no idea that a military “coup” happened here a month ago, or that the former president was hours away from re-entry. Rather than be concerned about the potential violence and upheaval if Zelaya does get back in, I feared more for my life being driven around in a crappy blue NPH truck through narrow, chaotic, crowded streets. At the mall we randomly ran into a Honduran acquaintance of one of the volunteers who came to pick me up along with his three recently-met Canadian lady friends. Even though there were already four of us in the truck and my two giant 50 pound bags in the back, they squeezed into the cab and back of the truck for a ride through the city. 8 people, one truck, massive luggage, and the lunch time rush hour made for quite an interesting ride. Everyone drives 50 mph, no matter how crowded the street, whether there is a car stopped in front of them, or even if there’s a wheelbarrow in the middle of a major avenue (yeah, we almost hit one).

Once we got above the valley and outside of Tegus’s noise and grime (kind of charming, actually), I could focus on the countryside, and it is beautiful. Very green, very hilly, and also somewhat deceptive: on first glance, the wide expanse of pine trees covering the hills almost looked to me like parts of Washington. But a longer look reveals the distinctive greenery that could only be part of a much more humid climate.

So far, I have spoken Spanish, French and German, and I couldn’t be happier about that. Tonight I’ll have dinner with Pilar, a volunteer from Madrid, and her “hogar” (home group of kids). Tomorrow will be a tour of the Ranch, and a half-day crash-course in ESL teaching from the guy whose position I’ll be filling this year. He leaves Sunday.

I’m not too tired yet, just hyped about having made it here. Thanks to all of you who have been praying for my safe arrival. I’ll share more stories soon as I am sure there will be plenty!

Adios hasta luego del Rancho Santa Fe,

Daniela