Expect the Unexpected – November 24

The good news about living outside of Canada is that, generally because you don’t know the culture and the language very well, something new and unexpected is always just a step away. The bad news is that the unexpected is always just a step away. Sometimes it is only a half-step away and that can be overwhelming.

Almost all good unexpected the last couple of days. Sunday afternoon, after a long couple of hours uploading my book to a friend who is going to do some work on it, (I was halfway through a 90 minute download when the connection broke – Plan B worked though), I headed for supper – it started out to be a late lunch when I first sat down at the internet.

On one of the routes to the city square, there is a tiny door which looks like a back entrance to the two large buildings around it. I happened to notice the other day that it had a sign on it, “Locos Tacos”. I glanced in the window and saw a bar and TV and then went on. So, last night I returned to the Crazy Tacos to see what it looked like inside.

Inside were about five tables and a four stool bar. It was clean, snug and, a bonus after a weekend of rain, warm. Behind the bar a lovely Christmas plaque with Santa Claus flashed and danced with lights. Spanish music played while two TV’s showed different channels (fortunately the sound was off the one). I thought I ordered a Taco but forty minutes later realized that I must not have. Further conversation with the lady in charge revealed that they didn’t have tacos. So much for the sign out front. Instead she brought me something called a barbacoa. Much better than a taco. (Tacos here are generally deep fried and often rather well crisped.) Two small tortillas with a pile of pulled, spiced beef with onions and cilantro on top. A wedge of lime and an avocado (I think) based dip to compliment. Very good. I ordered a second one.

After supper I headed to the town square to go to Mass. They have a good music group so I got their early enough to listen to them practice. There was an extra copy of the words to the songs so I got to sing along – nice. One of the songs was about the ninety and nine sheep so I was able to piece that out – oh how multilingual that boy is. After mass was finished, no one got up to leave. This is not always a good sign – especially if you are like me and sit in the front part of the church. Well, it turned out that all the local candidates for the upcoming election were invited to a mini election forum. The priest was the moderator and kept things going quite smoothly. The local TV channel was there filming the event and I noticed that the ‘director’ helped the priest move things along. I stayed till after nine and then, after looking around and seeing that many folks had called it a night, slide down the bench to the wall end and left after a speaker had given his thoughts on how to deal with corruption in government.

Today I went into San Pedro Sula to, again ... still ... try and get some of the textbook material we need. Most of the education offices were open ... but not the one we wanted. For some reason, no one knew of a phone number for them either. We tried a number of offices and a number of individuals in each office but no luck. Strike three ... or is it five ... can’t remember.

Manuel is trying to get some bank work done on his home. Well, he needed a copy of his contract with us. Unfortunately, we don’t have a rubber stamp yet. So, the contract was not accepted. Sigh. He is having a stamp made today, I will sign the papers again tomorrow and he will try again. I even went to the bank with him and sat trying look as employerish and foreign businessish as I could. Didn’t help.

Manuel went off to go have a stamp made and I went to say hello to the teachers and students at El Buen Pastor, the Bilingual school Alyssa and I were at two years ago. It was nice to see old friends and get some phone numbers of people I can talk to in English.

The Vice Principal gave me a ride to the terminal where I got a ticket and saw the Sta Cruz bus backing out of the stall. I ran and caught it just as it was ready to move forward. They are always happy to have another customer so were watching hopefully for that last minute rider. This bus was a big, old school bus with only a few passengers. Most worrisome as that generally means a million stops to get things filled. The bus was named the “Divine Women”. Not sure ... maybe there is a better Spanish phrase that it comes from. “Mujeres Divina” roared out of the terminal and hustled down the highway. Fortunately, the first couple of makilas we came to were just at shift change and, within two stops, we were full. Hurrah.

Divine Women had, on the side window a twelve inch translucent picture of Jesus, small decals of Jesus and Mary in each of the corners of the large interior bus mirror and one or two more icon figures on the windshield. With that much protection we were free to move at top speed down the highway. The driver, very considerately, had the turnboy go through their CD’s and find one with English songs mixed in with the Spanish numbers. And in true Honduran fashion, they generously turned the volume up to full so that I, along with the others, could completely appreciate the music.

Happily, we made the trip in one piece and, even more happily, in great time. It was still twilight when I stepped off the bus. A stop for some air time on my phone, another for orange juice and in short order I was home.

Laundry is not drying very quickly. That is an understatement. Having bought an iron on Saturday, I spent ten minutes finishing drying a pillow case for tonight. The rest will have to wait until Wednesday to get final attention.

Bryan