I remember Copan

I remember going to language school in Copan Ruinas, Honduras. I wanted to learn as much Spanish as possible before I started teaching English at a school in San Marcos de Colón, Honduras later that year. I was to spend one month learning a new language. That was a challenge that has stretched me out and changed me forever.

I stayed with a middle class Honduran family. I was given my own room, bathroom, bed, a fan, and a very small desk. I remember that I bonded more with the dog of the family than with the family itself. I was so scared of being wrong, that when I was asked a question, if I didn't know every  s i n g l e  word in the answer to the question, I wouldn't even attempt to answer. I was so timid and afraid. I spent a month taking private Spanish lessons for four hours a day and living with a native family. I soaked up a lot of grammar and a lot of words, but I was too afraid to practice most of it. I finally really started to practice the next year when I was working with kids... Kids gave me the perfect people to practice with... The perfect way to learn.

Culturally, there were many differences between us. They used to talk about me regularly at the dinner table. I was so offended that they would talk about me while I was sitting there, as if I could not understand a word they said. It wasn't until I had lived many months in the country itself, that I realized it was a huge cultural difference. If I was standing somewhere with Lidia and Juanita. It was normal for Lidia to say to me, "Don't you think Juanita's skirt is cute?" and I would answer, "Yes, I love Juanita's skirt!" It was  n o r m a l  to complement or talk about someone why they were present without directly complimenting them. I wish someone had told me this in the beginning! I felt so awful because they were talking about me openly while I was present. Silly me.

They ate with their hands, using tortillas to scoop food. The only foods they bothered to give me a fork and a knife were foods that I was accustomed to eating without said utensils... like fried chicken... and quesadillas. It's funny that now I eat with my hands after so much time living there. The food tastes so much better this way. (By food I mean beans and rice among other things).

I remember that when I learning the conditional in Spanish school that when I was asked what I would do with a million dollars, I replied, "Comería los niños pobres" which means I would eat the poor children. What I meant to say was that I would give food to the poor children, but it did not come out that way. The teacher didn't laugh. She just started at me. I realized my own mistake, and was so embarrassed. I wish she would have laughed at me. Now, I have a husband from Nicaragua and when he makes mistakes, I laugh. Sometimes I make him feel bad without meaning to, but I do not want his mistakes to just be ignored like mine were. I guess in teaching so much English, I've realized that not everyone learns better this way... but I hated when my mistakes were ignored. How was I ever going to learn a new language if no one would correct me? I remember being so frustrated with my teacher.

I remember central park and the ruins were beautiful. I remember making friends with Catholic missionaries from Ohio. I remember that my best friend at the time was from Belgium. I remember that I met a guy from Germany and a woman from Argentina. I remember my friends and the adventures that we had. I remember so much about my first month in Honduras. I hope to go back to Copan someday.