Honduras - Day 1 - A world anew...

Our journey began very early last Saturday morning. I was awake at 2:45am texting with the two other chaperons for the trip. David and Tara are two of my best friends, so I was thrilled that they would be with me for the week. By 3:35, Jeff and I picked up Tara to head to the airport. By 4:10am, the parents of the 12 senior highs making the journey with us had found their cameras and were snapping pictures of everything. By the time we checked-in, went through security, and found our gate, there were already pictures of us doing all of these things on Facebook. I love the 21st century.

Traveling by air with 12 youth is something I have never done before. I taken many groups to youth conferences and mission trips domestically before, where all of our travel was done by bus or car. Airports and passports and boarding passes and carry-on luggage bring new challenges that I never expected. I have never counted to 12 more times in my life than I did this past week, with most of those times coming on our first day of travel. Thankfully, our count was always 12.

After our plane ride to Miami and spending about an hour at the airport, we were off to Tegucigalpa. Upon arriving, we had to go through customs, which went fairly smooth. None of us were submitted to random bag checks, so that definitely helped the process go quicker. After we got our luggage, we headed off to find our hosts for the week from Honduas Outreach Incorporated (HOI). We knew their names, but had no idea what they looked like, so this process was a bit of a challenge.

After asking too many random people if they were who we hoped they would be, we finally found Ali and Martha, two of HOI's staff. Ali would be our leader for the week, so she helped us put our luggage where it needed to go and gave us our instructions. We were told we had an hour to eat lunch before we would board the bus for our three hour journey to Juticalpa.

We all ate lunch at "Il Panini," a Subway-type restaurant in the airport where one employee spoke broken English and the other didn't speak any. As we all fumbled to order, we fumbled even further when we got to the cash register. Having only American money and not knowing the exchange rate, we took whatever change we were given. Lunch was only $5 or $6, so all was well.

After eating lunch and going back outside to find our bus, we were told that two members of another group that would be traveling with us were on a flight that was delayed. Thinking the delay would only be 45 minutes or so, we went back inside and sat down for a short rest. After the 45 minutes had passed, we were told that it would be another two hours in this foreign airport. Some of the group decided to go venture into the city while a few of us stayed in the airport. The group that left was back within ten minutes, having been followed by both a homeless man in rags and a clown (yes, a clown), and receiving many cat-calls.

With the entire group back in a tight circle on the floor of the Tegucigalpa airport for the afternoon, games of cards and Bananagrams soon began. They tried to teach me how to play a card game named Presidents, but I got angry and quit after three minutes of not understanding the rules. With the games and each other to entertain us, the two hours passed quickly and we were soon told it was time to board the bus.

We all piled onto an old US school bus that had been slightly converted to be used as a transport for HOI. The windows had curtains to block the bright sun and there as an overhead rack for luggage. We were on the bus with a group from somewhere in Georgia, a few of whom had made the trip previously. We were warned that the ride might be a little bumpy. That was the understatement of the year.

As we left the airport and drove through the city, we were instantly hit with the views of the shacks and shanty's that stood on top of one another across the mountains in the city. Entire mountains covered in homes. Thankfully, our eyes were to drawn to this poverty-stricken city to notice how scary the roads were. After spending 8 days in Honduras, I'm still not sure of the rules of the road, other than the fastest car passes whenever and wherever they decide. There was more than one occasion on this trip where I uttered a few curse words loud enough for my youth to hear because of the fright in our driving adventures.

As the city ended, so did the paved roads. Our trip soon became incredibly bumpy. The roads throughout Honduras are dirt and filled with pot holes. The soil there is so rocky that the rocks create even more bumps so the wheels on our bus never received a break of any sort except when we stopped. After what seemed like 14 hours, and was really only 90 minutes, we stopped at a Mennonite bakery, owned and operated by American missionaries, that was unfortunately closed. We all lined up to use the latrines and began discussing our bumpy ride.

Before we stopped and before the night sky had fallen upon us, I couldn't help but notice how green the mountainous countryside of Honduras was. I saw every tree and every bush like I had never seen plant-life before. The pine trees that covered the large hills next to the road seemed as if they were the first trees I had ever seen. The scenery was mesmerizing.

It was nearly 7pm by this time our brief stop ended and our night's journey was only halfway over. Having had lunch some seven hours early, we were all very hungry. One of the youth pulled out a jar of trail mix and began passing it around the group. Those few handfuls of peanuts and pretzels might have been the best food I've ever eaten. After being frightened by the bus, the roads, the other vehicles, and wondering if our trip would ever end, the sweetness and crunch of this small snack was heavenly.

With our spirits lifted by this small morsel, we re-boarded the bus and were on our way to Jutilcalpa. The second half of the trip went much quicker and we were soon into the city. As we approached the city, one of the youth had read to me a short passage from Tuesdays With Morrie that she had brought along to use in the devotional she would be leading later in the week. I was so proud that she had read Tuesdays With Morrie and even prouder that she had thought ahead about what her devotional would be about.

Having read me this short passage, I joked that she should read aloud to us. She effortlessly agreed and began reading from chapter one. She read the first two chapters of the book and it was perfect. I was able to close my eyes, block out the bumps of the road, and focus on the words of her book. Those 20 minutes helped calm me and prepare me for an excellent first night in Honduras.

As we drove into Juticalpa, we were struck with how run-down the city appeared. We would see signs for hotels and wonder if each one would be our destination for the night. Finally, after weaving through the streets of the city for blocks and blocks, we pulled into a gorgeous villa hotel. The first thing we noticed was the security guard who opened the gate for us. He had a handgun on his side and a shotgun strapped over his shoulder. This was definitely not what we were used to seeing at American hotels.

The hotel was fantastic. The front desk staff was happy to see us and had our rooms ready within minutes. Our rooms were air conditioned and had fluffy double beds with six pillows each. I couldn't have ask for anything more after such a long day of travel.

We all met for dinner by the pool and were served Coca-Cola, Coca-Cola Light, and Sprite in glass bottles. Since they don't use high-fructose corn syrup in their cola, the drinks tasted light and airy. They were perfectly refreshing on a warm evening. We had fried chicken, rice, roasted vegetables, and tortillas for dinner. It was delicious.

After dinner and re-stocking our bottled water supply at the bar, we gathered to end the night with a quick devotional and re-cap of our long first day. The discussion was focused on the poverty we had seen surrounding us all day. The men in the airport exchanging dollars for Limpera at a not-so-fair exchange rate. The children in the airport asking for food or money, only to run and hand it to an old man sitting in the corner if they were to receive a small token from a traveler.

This was one of the last discussions we had all week about the poverty. I'm thankful for that. We stopped letting their lack of money and possessions be an issue and started letting their need for help be the issue. We focused on their happiness and sense of family rather than their lack of luxuries.

As the night ended I laid on my large bed and wrote in my journal. I don't remember everything I wrote, other than the sentence, "the poverty here is awesome." That statement is still true, but as the week progressed it doesn't matter as much as it did that first night in Honduras. The people there are more awesome than the poverty.

After I finished writing, I went to sleep and got seven or eight wonderful hours of sleep. Our first day in Honduras was eye opening, shocking, scary, wonderful, and amazing. It was a long day, but we were thrilled that we were able to make the journey safely.