Home Away from Home

As you may or may not have heard I recently moved into my own house! It has been so refreshing to have my own space and a little bit more privacy after nearly eight months of living with host families. And although not all my experiences were negative, I now have to freedom to come and go as I please and not have to worry if I forgot to make my bed or if I’ll make it home to wash those dishes before my host mom does. My new house is huge. I have a small living area, a room which has been converted into my workout room, my bedroom, the storage room, and of course the kitchen, which is where I spend all my time as it has the hammock and all the food.

When my house first opened up and I was given a key, I rustled up one of my neighbors to help my clean. Now the neighbor I chose is a young girl about 14 who really takes care of her own house as her mother died a few years ago. She does most of the cooking and cleaning so I knew I had made a good choice. Hard worker? Check. Lots of experience? Check! When we arrive at the house with all the needed supplies, she immediately takes to the kitchen throwing water into all the cabinets and scrubbing down the countertops. I anxiously watch her technique but decide that she will use her own technique and I won’t interfere. So I take myself off to the storage cabinet which smells of old dust and dank. I immediately start cleaning cobwebs and cleaning out shelves. A few minutes later I pop my head out and my friend is pouring water all over the floor in the kitchen. Buckets of Water. And then she starts sweeping the water with my new broom. At this point I even bother to ask why she didn’t first seep and then use the broom and then it is explained to me that the mop would then get really dirty. I again go off to hide in the storage room telling my self that the floor is indeed really dusty and dirty and I am sure a Honduran knows better how to clean in Honduras than I do. Much like Stephanie’s family know how to clean her backpack than she ever will. So after a few minutes she starts sweeping the water down the stairs into the fall where I am assuming that she will sweep it down more stairs into the living room and out into the front door. But just as I have accepted my present situation, she gets a phone call from her brother and takes off for home promising to return soon, “Ya vengo.” Obviously, as you have guessed, she does not come back. I stand around for like and busying myself with other task when I finally accept that she isn’t coming back. I look at the floor, I have a river of dirty water in my kitchen in my hall, in some of the small rooms, and running into the living area. After a few moments of sheer frustration and even a visit from my neighbor’s muchacha (lady who works in the house and helps with cooking and cleaning, housekeeper) who offers to help, I stubbornly decide “well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” And I start throwing water and floors and take to sweeping it out the front door. It took at least an hour to finally get all the water out of the house and to be honest I am not completely convinced the floors were clean afterwards and not just wet. So, if you are ever in Honduras and someone offers to help you clean expect the unexpected and jump in and get your feet wet (maybe literally).

I have attached some pictures of my house, it’s a work in progress as I have almost no furniture but have recently inherited a host of kitchen supplies.

Love,
B