honduraspeacecorps2.blogspot.com HONDURAS BLOG 2 ¿ ñ íóúá üé¡ ¿ ñ í ó ú ü é á ¡ más ¿ ñ í ó ú ü é á ¡ á, é, í, ó, ú, ü, ñ, ¿, and on your keyboard? ¡No te apures! ¿ ñ í óú áüé ¡ ° ////////////////////////////////////////////
I recently made blog postings only 2 days apart because portions of the latest one kept disappearing. Now I'm starting over, hoping that won't happen again.
Didn't I mention on a previous posting that pets have replaced kids for some folks? In an exchange with a neighbor on the subject, she sent me this link to a Versace dog bed:
THE MOST SUMPTUOUS, OR PRICIEST DOG BED, DESIGNER OR NOT….
https://www.google.com/search?
There is also a pet-specific waterproof and urine proof pad available.
https://www.wayfair.com/pet/pd
A neighbor has warned me about telephone scams asking for money. Yes, a while ago, I got a call from someone sounding like a young man, saying he was my grandson now in some sort of trouble, so needed $100 right away. When I asked his name, he said, "Grandma, you know my name." I said, "yes, but tell me what it is," so he then hung up.
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On July 1, I returned from almost a month-long trip to
Honduras, a key country in my life ever since early childhood.
I first visited Honduras with my family in 1940 when I was
only 2, going by horseback to Copán where my dad was doing archeological work
at the Mayan ruins there. Then in 2000, I felt lucky when the Peace Corps sent
me to Honduras as a health volunteer at age 62--considerably older than other
recruits. Since I already knew Spanish, while fellow volunteers were in
language classes, I explored the area on my own. Not only did I stay in the
Peace Corps for an extended term of 3 ½ years, but I’ve returned there annually
ever since, always bringing a new wheelchair to donate, also volunteering as an
interpreter for US-based medical brigades.
Just now in June, at age 86, I traveled to Honduras once
again, going there without a cell phone, as I’ve never learned to use one.
After we had landed at the Palmerola Airport outside the capital, Tegucigalpa,
the Honduran friend promising to meet me there was nowhere to be found. Later,
it turned out that he’d gotten the date wrong. So I spent 2 days at a nearby
hotel figuring out an itinerary,
sitting with my feet up on the bed while a
broken pipe spewed water all over the floor of my room. Although there was a
phone in the room, calls only came in at the front desk, which then called the
room, obliging me to walk downstairs to answer them (no elevator). So, I became
friends with the desk clerk, an attractive woman of 30 who lived with her
elderly father. She expected to be alone after he died, as she had no siblings
and would never marry, since Honduran men her age were already partnered. Men
in Honduras are in short supply, as so many go north and others die early in
accidents or violence.
Since there was no food service at the hotel except for
breakfast, I decided to order something for the staff and myself from a nearby
Chinese restaurant, but the armed guard at the front door prevented me from
going outside, warning it was too dangerous. Instead, I gave him money (in US
dollars) to get food for us all.
Then my friend suddenly showed up, apologizing profusely.
After that, it was smooth sailing, thanks to a young man I paid in US dollars
to transport me everywhere, as he needed dollars for an upcoming visit to
Miami. He even helped deliver the new wheelchair brought with me to the health
center in El Triunfo, my first Peace Corps site of years ago. I also attended a graduation ceremony
for a 6 -year-old at a bilingual school, though he failed to respond whenever I
spoke to him in English.
On this visit, I did not make it to La Esperanza, the
mountain town where I’d extended my original Peace Corps term after starting
out in the south more than 20 years before. But I did connect with folks there
via a video call. Triunfo and Esperanza translate
as Triumph and Hope, hence the title of my Peace Corps book, Triumph
& Hope, Golden Years with the Peace Corps in Honduras. I wrote another
a book about my several Cuba missions, Confessions of a Secret Latina:
How I Fell Out of Love with Castro & in Love with the Cuban People. (Both
books are available in print from Amazon, as well as on Kindle and Nook.)
I’ve been able to visit some 39 countries, nearly all on
medical or human rights missions, many only since my late ex-husband left our
family. So while his departure was a shock, it also allowed me to revive my dormant Latin
American side. Thanks to my Spanish fluency and familiarity with the region,
I've served as an election monitor and voting rights observer in Nicaragua,
Haiti, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic. For more than 50 years, I was also the
volunteer Coordinator for the Caribbean for Amnesty International. A former
social worker and juvenile probation officer back in California, I then worked
for more than 16 years at the American Occupational Therapy Association in
Bethesda, Md. before joining the Peace Corps.
I’ve endured many tragedies in my personal life, including
the untimely deaths of both my oldest son and a Cuban foster son. When my late
ex-husband, who was totally blind and to whose considerable success I had once
devoted all my energies, decided to leave after 24 years of marriage to wed his
young office assistant, I was forced to fend for myself and our children and
even had to fight for child support. My ex spoke with me only once after his sudden
departure, making a surprise phone call to me after some of my articles on Cuba
had appeared in the local press. Years later, his widow seemed shocked to see
me at his funeral, as I had not been invited nor was my name even mentioned in
his obituary.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Attached are some photos to choose from, including this time
one of Oliver, the young bilingual school student.
Report Post-electoral and Human Rights Crisis 2024 in Venezuela CADAL shares the joint documentation effort, by different NGOs in that country, which due to the intense situation of repression within the country is disclosed under the generic name of «Derechos Humanos de Venezuela en Movimiento».
On July 1, I returned from almost a month-long trip to Honduras, a key country in my life ever since early childhood. I’d first visited Honduras with my family in 1940 when I was only 2, entering Copán by horseback where my dad was doing archeological work at the Mayan ruins. In 2000, I glad to be back there once again when the Peace Corps sent me to Honduras as a health volunteer at 62, an age considerably older than that of other recruits. I needed a change of scene after the untimely deaths of my older son Andrew and my Cuban foster Alex in successive years. I already knew Spanish, so while fellow Peace Corps volunteers took Spanish classes, I explored the surrounding towns on my own. Not only did I stay in the Peace Corps for an extended term of 3 ½ years, but I’ve returned there yearly ever since, always bringing a new wheelchair to donate, and volunteering as an interpreter for US-based medical brigades.
Just now, at
age 86, I took a chance to travel to Honduras once again without a cell phone, as I've never mastered the use of one. After
I’d landed at the Palmerola Airport outside the capital, Tegucigalpa, a
Honduran friend promising to meet there me was nowhere to be found. Later, it
turned out that he’d gotten the dates mixed up. So I spent 2 days at a nearby
hotel sitting with my feet up on the bed while a broken water pipe spewed water
all over the floor of my room. After I’d mapped out an itinerary, my friend
suddenly showed up, apologizing profusely. After that, it was smooth sailing,
thanks to a young man I paid in US dollars to transport me around, as he needed
dollars for an upcoming visit to Miami. He even helped me deliver the new
wheelchair to the health center in El Triunfo, my first Peace Corps site.
On this visit,
I did not make it to La Esperanza, the mountain town where I’d extended my original
Peace Corps term after starting out in the south more than 20 years before. But
I did speak with folks there via a video call. Triunfo and Esperanza
translate as Triumph and Hope, hence the title of my Peace Corps book, Triumph
& Hope, Golden Years with the Peace Corps in Honduras. I’ve also
written a book about several Cuba missions, Confessions of a Secret Latina:
How I Fell Out of Love with Castro & in Love with the Cuban People. (Both
books are available in print from Amazon, as well as on Kindle and Nook.)
I’ve been been able to visit a total of 39 countries, nearly all on
medical and human rights missions, many only since my late ex-husband left our
family. So while his departure was a shock, it allowed me to revive my dormant Latin
American side. Thanks to my Spanish fluency and familiarity with countries in the
region, I have served as an election monitor and voting rights observer in
Nicaragua, Haiti, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic. For more than 50 years, I
was also the volunteer Coordinator for the Caribbean for Amnesty International.
A former social worker and juvenile probation officer back in California, I had more recently worked for
more than 16 years at the American Occupational Therapy Association before
joining the Peace Corps.
I’ve endured
many tragedies in my life, including the deaths of both my oldest son
and a Cuban foster son, as already mentioned. When my late ex-husband, who was totally blind and to
whose success I had once devoted all my energies, left us after 24 years of
marriage to wed his young office assistant, I was left to fend for myself and
our children and had to fight to even get child support. My ex only spoke with
me once after his departure, in a surprise phone call he made to me after some
of my articles on Cuba had appeared in the local press. His widow seemed
shocked to see me at his funeral, as I had not been invited nor was I mentioned
in his obituary.
Here are some photos from my life that I sent to a publication called Amigos de Honduras, a newsletter for former Peace Corps Honduras volunteers. Some photos have appeared earlier on this blog, offering a timeline and an overview of my life. The first photo is from my bath time in Honduras in 1940. The last one shows me with a wheelchair I donated to the Triunfo health center just now in June 2024. Each of us has only one life to live and I am well aware that mine is nearing its finale.
I once avoided public speaking, but now am no longer shy about speaking in either English or Spanish
to groups large or small. I also have been able to make myself understood when communicating with those speaking other Romance languages, such as Catalan, Italian, Romanian, and Portuguese. After leaving the Peace Corps in late 2003, until the pandemic in 2020, since I am bilingual in Spanish and English, after passing a rigorous oral test, then `being fingerprinted and chest x-rayed, I worked as an on-call medical interpreter in local hospitals and clinics, but am no longer comfortable traveling by public transportation (no car) or being around sick patients in medical settings. So I've retired completely from interpreting, which was my late life career. I could still do online written translation, but there are many programs to help with that and it offers no in-person connections to patients and providers, which I would prefer. Also, I still want to feel free to visit my son in W Va. at our mutual convenience and just to be able whenever I feel like it to email friends living all around the world, all met either on their visits to this country or on my own trips abroad, or even to post osmething on this blog. And has I've mentioned before, even everyday tasks take me longer now, including preparing simple meals, taking showers, washing clothes and dishes, or just going out to empty trash.
Te damos más formas de decir ¡Hola!
Obtén más formas de permanecer conectado a la distancia con tus seres queridos y más beneficios que antes para acercarlos aún más.
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