my favorite memory
after graduating from college i moved to tegucigalpa, honduras to teach 6th graders at a bilingual school. living in a place like honduras gives you a bank full of memories. i survived heat, bugs, amoebas in my belly, and a robbery. i snorkeled in the clearest water in the world, slept under the stars on a sailboat with yugoslavians on their way to india, and drank enough port royal and ate enough papusas to call myself honduran. i had a lot of good days and a lot of bad days. but, both the good and the bad have all turned into stories that can keep people laughing at a party. they are all good memeories now...but this is my favorite:
my mom, my aunt, and my sister came to visit me one month before my sad departure from honduras. they came and hung out with my kids at school, laughed with them, enjoyed their silliness. then it was time to take them on a little honduran adventure. i had heard of this small cabin, built by a german couple, up in the national cloud forest. i had never been to the cabin before...but i had directions. the directions went a little something like this: catch the morning bus to san juancito. look for the blue pepsi stand. when you find it, go inside and ask for jorge. it was vague enough and true enough to honduran form that i thought it might just work.
in the morning we packed up and headed to the bus stop. we boarded the old school bus, complete with its stickers, catholic paraphernalia, and stolen mercedeez benz hood ornament attached to the front. it started to sprinkle. the bus ride took us straight up a mountain, around harrowing curves, past shacks, and bustling streets filled with people selling their goods. finally we pulled into the small town of san juancito. dirt roads. a gutted-out old bus. chickens. stray dogs. a blue pepsi stand.
by this time the sprinkle had turned into a spit. we entered the small blue pepsi stand to find a man and his daughter eating breakfast, eggs and beans. they greeted us with a warm "buenos dias." i went to the counter and asked the small, smiling honduran woman if she knew a man named "jorge." her face brightened even further as she said "SI, pues!" she grabbed a HUGE radio off the wall, turned, and just about poked my eye out with the longest antenna i've ever seen. the lady yelled into the radio probably louder than necessary, "JORGE...VENGA!" jorge come. we sat down next to the father and daughter eating breakfast and they continued to stare and smile between bites.
soon, a blue pick-up truck pulled up next to the blue pepsi stand and out jumped a very white man with very blonde hair. he had cut off jean shorts and a big toothy grin. he spoke with a german accent. jorge.
jorge told us to pile into the truck. my mom and aunt sat up front to chat with jorge, while my sister and i jumped in the bed and decided to stand for the ride up the mountain, holding onto the bar at the top of the truck. up and up and up we went, climbing until our breath was taken by the views.
jorge drove us down a small dirt path and stopped in front of a wooden gate. we had arrived. jorge opened the gate and invited us to watch our step. we "watched our step" right into his secret garden. tropical flowers, vegetable plants, and vines all reached out to touch our feet in a plant-like welcome. ahead of us was a small two-room cabin. jorge showed us to our rooms and asked us what we would like for dinner.
that night was filled with girl-like giggles as my mom, my aunt, my sister and i sat overlooking a large mountain pass, identical feet propped up on the porch rail. we watched a rain cloud engulf us and then became silent to listen to the rain torture the roof. we ate jorge's meal and drank his wine, two bottles of it, then decided to turn in for the night.
my sister and i snuggled down together into the softest bed a goose has ever produced. we chatted and laughed until our breathing became deeper with sleep. we heard voices outside our door. our mother and aunt were totally showing us up by staying up late. we jumped out of bed to join them back out on the porch. i can't describe the feeling, but i know that i haven't felt it before.
in the morning we took open air showers and rode back down the mountain with jorge.
my mom, my aunt, and my sister came to visit me one month before my sad departure from honduras. they came and hung out with my kids at school, laughed with them, enjoyed their silliness. then it was time to take them on a little honduran adventure. i had heard of this small cabin, built by a german couple, up in the national cloud forest. i had never been to the cabin before...but i had directions. the directions went a little something like this: catch the morning bus to san juancito. look for the blue pepsi stand. when you find it, go inside and ask for jorge. it was vague enough and true enough to honduran form that i thought it might just work.
in the morning we packed up and headed to the bus stop. we boarded the old school bus, complete with its stickers, catholic paraphernalia, and stolen mercedeez benz hood ornament attached to the front. it started to sprinkle. the bus ride took us straight up a mountain, around harrowing curves, past shacks, and bustling streets filled with people selling their goods. finally we pulled into the small town of san juancito. dirt roads. a gutted-out old bus. chickens. stray dogs. a blue pepsi stand.
by this time the sprinkle had turned into a spit. we entered the small blue pepsi stand to find a man and his daughter eating breakfast, eggs and beans. they greeted us with a warm "buenos dias." i went to the counter and asked the small, smiling honduran woman if she knew a man named "jorge." her face brightened even further as she said "SI, pues!" she grabbed a HUGE radio off the wall, turned, and just about poked my eye out with the longest antenna i've ever seen. the lady yelled into the radio probably louder than necessary, "JORGE...VENGA!" jorge come. we sat down next to the father and daughter eating breakfast and they continued to stare and smile between bites.
soon, a blue pick-up truck pulled up next to the blue pepsi stand and out jumped a very white man with very blonde hair. he had cut off jean shorts and a big toothy grin. he spoke with a german accent. jorge.
jorge told us to pile into the truck. my mom and aunt sat up front to chat with jorge, while my sister and i jumped in the bed and decided to stand for the ride up the mountain, holding onto the bar at the top of the truck. up and up and up we went, climbing until our breath was taken by the views.
jorge drove us down a small dirt path and stopped in front of a wooden gate. we had arrived. jorge opened the gate and invited us to watch our step. we "watched our step" right into his secret garden. tropical flowers, vegetable plants, and vines all reached out to touch our feet in a plant-like welcome. ahead of us was a small two-room cabin. jorge showed us to our rooms and asked us what we would like for dinner.
that night was filled with girl-like giggles as my mom, my aunt, my sister and i sat overlooking a large mountain pass, identical feet propped up on the porch rail. we watched a rain cloud engulf us and then became silent to listen to the rain torture the roof. we ate jorge's meal and drank his wine, two bottles of it, then decided to turn in for the night.
my sister and i snuggled down together into the softest bed a goose has ever produced. we chatted and laughed until our breathing became deeper with sleep. we heard voices outside our door. our mother and aunt were totally showing us up by staying up late. we jumped out of bed to join them back out on the porch. i can't describe the feeling, but i know that i haven't felt it before.
in the morning we took open air showers and rode back down the mountain with jorge.
posted by SN at 6:04 PM
2 Comments:
so true, sara. best memories ever abound in that place. wonderful to remember it.
sounds so nice. maybe i'll get to meet jorge someday? an appropriate 2nd year wedding anniversary adventure, don't you think?
who's the mysterious 71717666?
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