Anthems of Noll

Exactly a year ago, I was on my way to Guanajuato, Mexico to celebrate the Day of the Dead - El dia de los muertos, as they say. We drove through picturesque scenery of mountains, arriving at this colonial town (known as one of the pueblo magico -magical town- of the region) through a dark tunnel, only to come out on the other side to a whole other view. A pueblo magico is a town known for being picturesque, with rich architecture, legends, history, traditions and customs. Guanajuato is definitely a magical town. One of the first buildings that caught our eye was a bright yellow church with dark red trims, Parroquia de Basílica Colegiata de Nuestra Señora de Guanajuato, as well as the entourage of colourful houses stacked on the hills like lego. We visited the mummy museum, where we saw the carefully preserved bodies of inhabitants, including a fetus. Many were still wearing the same clothes as the day they met their fate, hair and jewelry intact and most had a hollow, sunken face wit

I'm sitting in a coffee shop in the San Salvador airport. I didn't notice the name as I checked the menu and eagerly selected 3 different kinds of pupusas, corn-flour tortillas, filled with: cheese, beans and chicharron. I am writing this post after an extended blogging dry spell, completely leaving out my experiences from living at the Iguana Research and Breeding Station (IRBS) on the Bay Island of Utila in Honduras, and my trip to Nicaragua with fellow FBC intern B and her sis. I have a hard time finding a healthy balance between enjoying being in the moment of my new and exciting surroundings and taking the time to write about these experiences. Maybe one day I will master that art, but in the meantime I am too excited to backtrack to those stories in the past so that I can share what's happening in the present. I am in Central America. Again. Just when I thought living 6 months in Honduras would satisfy this constant urge to be immersed in Latino culture, I made the

I realize my previous posts have been a bit pessimistic, critical and not painting Honduras in the best light. Aside from the two assaults and difficulty in making local friends here, this really is a beautiful country. Before starting the Christmas holidays I spent several of my weekends outside of La Ceiba to get away from the city. There are many places to see nearby, including Cayos Cochinos, only 45 minutes away by boat from the Sambo Creek beach and with some of the most turquoise and clear waters I have ever seen. I stayed on the island of Chachahuete with a Garifuna community, in a simple cabin just a few feet from the shore. I loved hearing the waves so close by at night. The coral reef is impressive and I saw lots of types of coral (brain, fan...) and fish snorkeling right off the shore. We asked one of the fishermen Naun to take us to the larger island Cayo Mayor so we could go for a hike and look for the endemic Hog Island boa...we saw three! The following weekend I we

I was hoping to write a blog post on a more positive note than my last one this time but, as luck would have it, last night I was the victim of another robbery at gun-point. This is my second in 1.5 weeks (and counting?). I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry about the situation, or both, I just know that I have so many mixed emotions right now it's hard not to be pessimistic about my time so far in La Ceiba. When my boss from FBC first took me aside and asked me whether I was really sure I wanted to go to Honduras, because it is a dangerous place and very different from Mexico or Costa Rica, considering that I am "a softie" (a direct quote that I refuse to agree with as I stand by my argument that my reaction to e-coli poisoning in the water I was informed was safe to drink being more violent than others' is NOT a reflection of my personal strength), I was offended. Did she think I wasn't capable of living under difficult conditions? I've lived abroad for

I'm starting this post on a bit of a sour note because, as of two hours ago, I am phoneless and $40 poorer. Yes, it finally happened. I was with A and M, who are visiting from out of town, and we were on our way to the Expatriados bar when a man on a bicycle approached us, flashing the gun he had tucked into his belt, told us not to scream and to give him everything we had. My first thought was: "Awww, shit." Ever since arriving in Honduras, I feel like I've been living a game of 'Gotcha!' every day, where I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, paranoid that someone is out there to get me. If you don't know this game, I should tell you it's very fun to play with friends but not in real-life as a daily threat. The rules are as follows: someone has your name as their "victim" and this person cannot "get" you unless it is just the two of you, with no witnesses. In general, I try to make sure that when I am walking, there is more

This is my fourth week in Honduras and my placement here in La Ceiba is taking me a while to adjust. I have a small room, which is fine because I survived the woods in New Brunswick! I think I would sleep fine if it weren't for all the noise all. the. time: the crying baby and barking chow-chows next door, along with the loud traffic. I would close my windows but it gets so hot and stuffy in my room. Lately it's been cooler because it's the rainy season which is nice, except the streets are flooded. Someone on their bike the other day was riding in water halfway up to their tire! I am so glad I brought my boots with me (best $30 I ever spent at Canadian Tire). One thing I might complain about is that my work could be a bit more laid back...I live with my supervisor Juan Diego who's from Spain and away from his wife and son so works all the time to keep himself distracted I think. I wish I could be as excited as he is for me to go through 3 of the Honduras education cur