Bievanidos a Copan, Honduras

I made it, and so far this place is unlike any place I have ever been to. Where do I begin? (p.s. I couldn't get the spell checker to work on this computer, so I apologize if there are blatant mistakes.)

After nearly 12 hours of flying and waiting in airports, my three friends and I finally landed in San Pedro Sula, Honduras. We went through customs and were greeted by a man holding a sign with my friend's name on it. We had heard San Pedro Sula gets pretty sketchy at night and that there is some gang violence, so we were eager to get to Copan and settle in our respective host homes. What I didn't realize was that it was going to be a three-hour white-nuckle death-defying ride to get there.

We piled into a small chicken bus and took what appeared to be the only road - "road" being a generous word here... more like beaten path for cars - to Copan. Even in the dark, we could tell the landscape was breathtaking: rolling hills, lush vallies, tropical plants, and strangely Pepsi logos on ever other sign or building. But most of the ride was concentrated on not tipping off the side of the mountain or slamming into the plethora of yellow school buses as we passed them as if in a stunt car. At one point we passed a truck that had collided with an even bigger truck. This was the point that just gave in, and figured what's going to happen is going to happen. (Toward the end, we were all concentrating on not barfing up the peanut butter crackers we had for dinner. And nevermind the fact that as we got close to town, we kept slowing to dodge meandering horses and stray dogs in the road.)

A few hours later, we were dropped off at our host homes. I am living with Yolanda's family, which so far I think consists of a son, daughter-in-law, daughter, and perhaps a few others. It's a one-story bright yellow house with a patio festooned with maybe two dozen wind chimes. I get my own room, complete with three framed pictures of Jesus and a plastic bust of praying Jesus above my door. In fact, Jesus is all over the house. The room is painted a jarring orange and smell faintly of a recent bug bomb.

My host mother means business. When I woke up yesterday, she had a bowl of Corn Flakes waiting for me, and she spoke to me exhaustingly in Spanish. She informed me that lunch was at noon, dinner at six, and I would eat with my family to practice my Spanish. Yes ma'am. Or Si Senora.

After seeing the town and stuffing our faces with pasta for lunch, we went to school. I took one look at the entrance exam, and immediately changed my expectations for the trip. Perhaps fluency is expecting too much. I didn't remember any of my verb tenses. But after I sat down with my teacher and we spoke a bit, the several years of Spanish came back. I found I could converse, but those damn tenses still mess me up. Toward the end of the day - and last night after dreaming in Spanish - I began to think maybe I can do this. A few weeks of this constant Spanish speaking, as well as lessons on the tenses and vocab, is sure to make a Spanish speaker out of me.

Last night we went with a group from the school to some hot springs about an hour away. Again: small bus, bumpy roads, upset stomach. At the springs, we dipped in these large, round pools of steaming, sulfer-smelling bath water. We spoke mostly in Spanish, chatting with a few of the instructors. Our host families had packed us all dinner, so we took a break for ham and cheese sandwiches slathered with mayo on sticky white bread and a beer. I thought for sure I would be eating healthier - at least more beans and a corn tortilla or two. But it's been white bread and pasta and Pepsi, and I have noticed there are more overwieght people here than I expected. I suppose that is a universal sign of wealth, and I am guessing my host family is among Copan's upper class, as seen in their weight and diet and the fact that they can dedicate an entire room and bathroom to some random American girl - then again, I'm income.

Anyway, it's warm here, and humid. We're in shorts and T-shirts. Copan is a tiny town with cobblestone streets and brightly colored concerete buildings. Most of the houses have open courtyards where a foyer or entryway would be and the bars and restuarants seem to have similar back yards teaming with lush tropical plants. Everyone we have met has been so kind and welcoming, which I am realizing is a far cry from my travels in Central Europe. There are wandering, barking dogs everywhere and the occassional horse. As we drove to the hot springs, the streets were lined with small, open homes with children playing in the dirt, a mother washing clothes on the porch, and often a small lit porch where men in white cowboy hats sat around drinking beer.

It's only day two, but so far this place is amazing. The landscape, the people, the weather, the vegetation - it's all so spectacular. Now, I just need to get better at my Spanish. And I am sure our outing to the discoteque tonight with help with that.