Walking vs. Riding

On Monday, I had a bit of a premonition experience. I woke up, and refused to believe it was time to get up. I simply could not believe it was 5 o'clock. Granted, I'd been up more than an hour later than usual on Sunday night (I was up until 9:40!) but I still couldn't believe that the amount of rest I had gotten was the amount of rest I was going to have to trudge through with. Nope. Not possible. I was so convinced, that I came to the conclusion that my fancy-pants radio alarm clock, that is set to a time zone, had reset itself in the night to daylight savings time. My clock still thinks we're in the States. However, upon checking my phone and watch, I had to face that it was 5, or by not, 5:30, and time to get up.

This morning, I woke up to my alarm, and felt amazing. I had gone to bed at 8:30 and woke up to my alarm at 5. At 5, except the sun was already shining. At 5, except the street noises were too loud. At 5, except my alarm had reset itself a few days too late and it was really 6. 6, which means the bus would be leaving the bus stop, which is 3 minutes from my house, in about 4 minutes. No go.

I skipped some of my normal routine and got ready in 15 minutes and then did something I haven't done in weeks. Something I did every day last year, but have somehow avoided this year almost entirely. I say “somehow” but really, I mean that there's a new bus driver who come by at 6 and gets me to school by 6:15, which is the most bang for my buck. I still get there fairly early, but I have more time in the house, and in bed. When I miss the bus, I usually end up catching a ride with one of the Honduran staff members on their way to school.

But today, I walked. I forgot why I liked it so much. I still think I'll usually end up taking the bus, but I there are some things I need to remember to appreciate about my walk to school.

Being in Honduras, I find myself in a giant bubble, lacking in news, current events, and the culture that I will one day return to. This became obvious to me when I was home over the summer. After just one year, the day-to-day cultural references were completely out of my grasp. I can only imagine what it will be like after two years. However, by being a Mayatan teacher and a gringa, I'm in another bubble. I'm not really apart of the day-to-day happenings and culture here either. Most of the people I associate with are ex-pats, fellow teachers, or tourists. I do have Honduras friends, but I find that most of the time spent together is still not similar to the daily interactions I sometimes glimpse when I'm walking around town.

There are a variety of people who frequent my walk to school, in the opposite direction. When I walk regularly, I form a kind of 5-second-a-day relationship with them. But we recognize each other and when we see each other outside of our work, we are friendly. I like that relationship, but I do wish I was more outgoing, and more able to be closer to more locals. It's one of those things I've been working on.

When I walk, I have the opportunity to glimpse very small, but significant day-to-day interactions. I live a pampered life here. It's easy to get caught up in it. My house is comfortable, my shower is warm, I have a fridge, a stove, and a small oven. This is how my Honduran friends, most of them, live, but it is certainly not the norm.