After 3 planes, 4 buses, 2 taxis, and a long painful walk up a mountain questioning what was actually inside my luggage, I finally arrived to my house in Camasca, Intibucá, Honduras. I had a great time in the states with friends and family being lazy and enjoying the small luxuries of life. A result of the immense amount of bacon intake (only missed two mornings but made up for it with bacon appetizers for Chistmas), lazy days in Myrtle Beach, hiking, sushi, the beach, long car rides on actually paved roads, and just spending time with the people I love has made my return to Honduras more difficult than I first expected. I never truly experienced homesickness until my first arrival to Honduras when I really did not speak the language, rooster calling all night was abnormal, and a cold bucket bath remained unusual. However, for the next ten months I became accustomed to life in a third world country and actually began to enjoy the simplicities of life.
Fast forward to ten months later, once again arriving to Honduras from the states and a new form of homesickness crept up into my conscious. I no longer feared a cold bucket bath, 4 hour bus rides on a dirt road, crappy transportation, Spanish, endless amounts of tortillas, beans, and rice, and all the other strange aspects of a foreign culture (okay well I still fear a cold baths). So why did that familiar feeling of homesickenss begin to form in my mind? One of the first and most interesting questions given to me during my vacation in the states was by my dad, “Do you live a hard life in Honduras?” At the time I was unprepared to answer such a question, it actually seemed strange, so I replied no I survive without problems. I mean in comparison to other Hondurans I live a very fulfilling life without the fear of lacking food, work, or a chance to improve my life. It almost seems offensive to me to respond that I live a hard life in Honduras when I compare my daily activities and life with the rural poor that surround me in my village. However, as I return to life in Honduras I have rethought about the question, “Do you live a hard life in Honduras?” I think the answer adequately explains the reason for the return of my feelings of homesickness.
One important lesson that I have learned living in a poor rural community in the mountains of Honduras is that happiness is not a question of materials or things owned. Happiness can be attained with the bare minimums of life, clean drinking water, access to schools, afternoon coffee, adequate food, a nice hammock, and your friends and family. The last part “friends and family” and of course my girlfriend Mallory explain my feelings of homesickness. I have conquered or at least accepted many of the hardships that face a foreigner living in Honduras, and I have even made friends with a lot of people around here. The one key aspect of happiness that will always be missing in Honduras is my family, friends, and girlfriend. No matter how many friends I make in Honduras, or families that adopt me as their own I will still not have the people who throughout my life who have shaped me into the person I am today.
I guess the point of this blog is to state, thank you to everyone, my friends, my family, Mallory, and everyone in my life that has always been there for me. Although bacon is a masterful combination of flavors, Christmas ale will remain in my dreams for months to come, and a hot shower for all its citizens should be the goal of all developing countries, I truly understand that people are the most important part of happiness and I feel truly blessed that I have so many people to miss.