La Ceiba, Honduras

Leaving La Ceiba

Author’s note: This post is part of my series on my recent trip to Honduras. To read past posts on Honduras, click here.

I often find that a week is not enough time to experience a new country or volunteer abroad. There is way too much to learn, and the experience is often a bit overwhelming and intense. However, in my humble opinion a week is better than nothing so I normally do whatever I can to get as much out of my time abroad as possible, even if it means running myself rampant.

Friday came before I knew it. Just as my Spanish was beginning to pick up once again and I had finally began to feel comfortable in my surroundings, it was time to go. The hardest part leaving La Ceiba was leaving its people, both the children I had worked with at the day care center and my lovely host family. I felt really sad leaving the kids knowing how poorly they were treated and understanding that my presence as a volunteer at the center was the highlight of their day. I knew another volunteer was still there yet it wasn’t enough. In a center with over 60 young children and uninspiring employees, one volunteer could simply not make up for the lack of care, attention and love that the children required. It was heartbreaking to leave.

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I also felt sad leaving my warm, caring host family. I was amazed how easily they welcomed me into their home with open arms, compassion, patience (with my lack of Spanish) and love. After only a few days I felt like an extended member of the family and it was hard to leave.  It is rare to develop this kind of friendship with anyone in such a short period of time yet I came to understand that most Hondurans are incredibly warm and compassionate people. They may not have much, but they do have happiness and an overall acceptance of the hardship of their lives. Something many of us could learn from.

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A five year old girl takes care of her one year old sister all day long at the day care center as there is no one else to help her.

Here are a few of my last photos that I took before I left. I purposely chose photos that depict the sharp contrast I felt in Honduras between beauty and poverty. I felt it so intensely during my trip.

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Being Half the Sky

“Women hold up half the sky” – Chinese proverb 

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Exactly a year ago today I was in Xela, Guatemala on a week long volunteer and spanish immersion trip when I heard the noise off in the distance. It sounded like a parade. I asked my teacher Lilian if she knew what on earth was going on and she replied with a smile, “It’s International Women’s Day!” and asked if I’d like to go see the festivities. I had never heard of International Women’s Day before yet it sounded spectacular. I packed up my school work and Lilian and me were off in a flash to the main square.

There I watched in awe and joy how a community could come together as one and celebrate the rights and beauty of women. It was so incredibly touching that I rushed home and instantly wrote a post on the experience titled “El dia de la mujer in Xela, Guatemala“. Even a year later, the memory of that day will forever be engrained in my heart. It was beautiful so heartbreaking yet also so full of hope.

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Violence against women is an enormous problem in Guatemala and sometimes women are victims of abuse and even murder. Lillian told me that this was the first time she remembered having so many men participate in International Women’s Day and was hopeful that it would lead to change.

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The Banana Republic

Author’s note: This post is part of my series on my recent trip to Honduras. To read past posts on Honduras, click here.

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A young boy selling fruit on a Monday morning (Shouldn’t he be in school?).

In order to get a clear understanding of where Honduras is today, it is important to take a brief look at the history. Below is a brief historical summary that I have paraphrased from Lonely Planet’s Honduras and The Bay Islands, Written by Greg Benchwick, 2010):

Like many countries in Central America, Honduras has a difficult history of her share of coups, rebellions, power seizures, foreign invasion and darn right meddling in her internal affairs. Christopher Columbus landed on the shores of Honduras (which means “depths” and was named by Columbus in reference to the deep water) on August 14, 1502. It was the first time a European had set foot on the American mainland, a historic landing that ended up being basically ignored for the next two decades until the discovery of gold and silver in 1530.

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Finding beauty in La Ceiba, Honduras

Author’s note: This post is part of my series on my recent trip to Honduras. To read past posts on Honduras, click here.

La Ceiba is not known as the most beautiful city in the world. In fact, it is known for being well, rather ugly. I had been warned about the unattractiveness of the city several times through my research in Lonely Planet and other noteworthy travel sites. But La Ceiba was where my volunteer project was based so I was going to make the best of it and be sure to use that good old “third-eye” (i.e. open-minded approach). Ugly or not, I would find the beauty of it.

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Honduras is a diverse country with lots of jungle and mountains. La Ceiba is located on the Caribbean Sea not far from the famous Bay Islands. Photo credit: Wikipedia.

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Lost in the details on a street in Antigua

One of my all time favorite cities in the world is Antigua, Guatemala. I could spend days walking its picturesque cobblestone streets colored in rainbow hues and loaded with history. Every building has a story to tell which can be found by looking into the details of the layers of paint and crumbled buildings sprouting with plants.

Follow me along and look carefully at the details of a street in lovely Antigua….

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Love and Heartbreak in a Honduran daycare

Author’s note: This post is part of my series on my recent trip to Honduras. To read past posts on Honduras, click here.

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The main reason why I went to Honduras was to volunteer and give back. A month before leaving I found out my volunteer placement would be at a Honduran daycare center for poor single mothers to send their children to the day while they tried to earn a living. As a mother myself who adores children and an advocate for fighting poverty, I couldn’t think of a better placement. I could hardly wait.

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Learning Spanish like a local in La Ceiba, Honduras

Author’s note: This post is part of my series on my recent trip to Honduras. To read past posts on Honduras, click here.

Finding the right program abroad can prove to be a daunting task. I searched countless hours on the Internet but after the trip to Honduras I realized my mistake. I was searching for volunteer opportunities not spanish language schools. Little did I know that almost every language school offers volunteer opportunities alongside their program. Had I searched under spanish schools, I would have found lots of options. In retrospect, everything worked out more than fine. It just took me a roundabout way to find my school, Centro Internacional de Idiomas. Next time, I’ll know the back way in and do it differently.

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Becoming a global volunteer

“If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.” – Mother Teresa

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Two lovely Garifuna girls in Roatan, Honduras.

Four years ago, I was finally at the point in my life in which I was able to set a new goal for myself. I made the decision that I would spend one week a year abroad as a global volunteer, giving back to a host community. After years of traveling around the world, I realized how incredibly fortunate I am to be able to see places that most people will never see. Furthermore, I understood how much we truly have in the western world compared to to everyone else who are not so fortunate. Spending time in developing countries opened my eyes even more and I became even more thankful for the fact that I had a more than adequate roof over my head, plenty of food on the table, a loving family, the ability to stay at home with my children and pursue my dreams. All in all, I realized that I had a really great life and that millions of people around the world were just struggling to survive.

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Unforgettable day

Today was an unforgettable day on the slopes. The sky was a brilliant knock-out blue and the sun was beaming down with joy. We rose feeling a little stiffer after a hard day of skiing but excited for the anticipated adrenaline rush that was before us. In my opinion, there is nothing better than flying down the mountain at lightening speed with the wind whipping in your face. It is the closest I feel to being 20 again.

Here are some of my favorite shots of an unforgettable day.

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Ok…this isn’t exactly true but I saw it in the bar last night and thought it was hilarious.

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Morning on the slopes.

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Heading up on lift 9 to the top. Look at the wind blow off the crest of the Continental Divide. Wow!

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It was absolutely freezing on top but the 360 view of the Colorado Rockies took my breathe away.

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In the mountains

This weekend I just so happen to be among one of my favorite things: Mountains. I love to see them, climb them and ski them racing like wildfire down the terrain. There is something so magical about mountains. I will always find them mesmerizing.

Here are some photos from my first day skiing at Copper Mountain in Colorado. You will see that it was a magnificent day with brilliant sun and perfect powdery snow. I embraced every minute of it and let the exhilaration saturate my soul.

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This post was written in response to Where’s my Backpack’s travel theme: Mountains. To. See more posts click here.

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Meet Maria, my Honduran host

Author’s note: This post is part of my series on my recent trip to Honduras. To read past posts on Honduras, click here.

Perhaps the best thing about my volunteer trip to Honduras was the home stay. Going into the trip I was a bit worried. I had no idea what to expect. Would the family be nice? Would I be able to communicate enough in Spanish? Would I feel comfortable inside a strangers house for a week? And would I be able to sleep at night?

Memories of barking dogs and restless roosters from a previous home stay in Guatemala swam around my head. I had to be honest. I was nervous.

I also had no idea what to expect of the town I’d be living in for a week. I knew nothing about La Ceiba, a port town along the coast of Honduras. All I knew is what I’d read in Lonely Planet. That it was the third largest town and described as rather ugly. I also understood that it was probably going to be a bit more dangerous than Guatemala and that I probably wouldn’t be doing much exploring if any on my own. Thus, it was even more important that I liked my host family as I would be spending every evening inside the house with them and as we all know, nights can be long.

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Looking out across the street from Gloria and Hugo’s house in La Ceiba.

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