You say good-bye, I say hello

We are in the height of the dry season here in La Esperanza. Which means the dirt road that takes us to work everyday has turned into a giant dust bowl. The dirt here has a slight orangy tinge which, when mixed with even a small amount of perspiration creates a nice carrot toned film across any exposed skin. I try to console myself that in Canada people pay good money to be made more orange, although most people try to achieve the bronzed look, not the dusty carrot.

I can’t get used to all the dust here no matter what I try. Curtis brought me allergy eye drops from Canada, which was very caring, but still doesn’t stop the constant itchiness.

There are other things here that I’ve had trouble getting used to. For the longest time I would say "Hola" to people as I passed them on the road on my bike going to work. For the first while they would either just look at me a little strangely or laugh and say "Adios". I did not understand why everyone was doing this and actually started to get somewhat offended by it. I am just trying to be friendly. Why won’t they say hello back? Why do they say goodbye? Do they want me to leave, to take my iPod and fancy (for Honduras) bike and ride back to Canada? I just didn’t get it. After thinking about this through several confusing bike rides, I realized that we just have it mixed up in Canada. We say hello when we are passing each other, when it actually makes more sense to say good-bye, since you are leaving.

With this new revelation I set out on my bike today to greet people on the road the Honduran way and try to make up for being such a silly gringa the last few months. There is this one little boy that has always gotten such a huge kick out of my daily screw ups, and for some reason I could never get it right with him. In my defence, he is always the first person I see on the road every morning so he usually catches me off guard. I see him. I forget. I say Hola. He laughs and says Adios. Repeat.

Today I swore to myself that I was going to get it right. I played the scene out in my head. I would see him coming, and wait until just the right moment and then I would wave and say Adios! Like it was nothing, while Shakira provided the background music to this beautiful cross cultural exchange.

I turned around the corner and spotted my little friend. There he was walking up the road towards me, smug as can be. He totally thinks I’m going to screw it up, he’s waiting for it. Well not this time mi pequeno amigo. Not this time. You’re not going to have the stupid gringa story for your friends at school today. Not today. My heart started to beat faster, as I peddled to reach him. Wait for it … wait for it. Act natural.

Just as my mouth opened to speak, a truck carrying 15 Hondurans barrelled around the bend. PHOOF. We were instantly covered in a giant suffocating cloud of Honduran dry season dirt road dust. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I stumbled off my bike and groped for my handle bars to steady myself. I was paralyzed in the ditch. Out of the swirling dust and grit, a small figure approached me.
I sputtered. I coughed. I knew what I had to do. Leaning over my handle bars I gasped and tried.. Ah.. Adhh.. Addd. Achoooo!
Through the blur I could make out his grinning face. " Adios chica en la bici"

In a few moments the dust settled and I was alone on the side of the road. I used the back of my hand to wipe the orange coloured snot and tears off my face. I needed my eye drops.