Living in Interesting Times

Welcome to the second installment of “Be Careful What You Ask For”…

Yet again I had great intentions for the day. Yet again, those plans were completely destroyed by 8am. I’m now considering refusing to make any sort of plan until at least noon of the day!

Today’s adventure was to taxi the full laundry bags over to the coin laundry in Miramar, washing and drying the entire mess and returning home to hang fresh curtains, make up the bed with non-paint splattered covers and having fresh clothes to wear once again. The sun is shining after last night’s 12 hour storm and before this afternoon’s regular 3pm showers and I wanted to get out for a walk on the beach while it was warm enough. That just isn’t going to happen today…..

Ken taught me the rule of thumb of only planning one adventure per day, with the caveat that the original plan would rarely be achieved, yet alone smoothly. I know I’ve been a little too enthusiastic about my intended activities but overall, I’ve been successful with getting chores completed, business dealt with and mundane realities of living (like cooking) accomplished. It’s time to return to the original adage of one plan per day, with the additional rider of not every day.

My original house painter returned this morning. I’ll politely refer to him as Mr. Paint Man, as I’m not feeling respectful enough to inquire his proper name. This is the same gentleman who waylaid my plan Christmas Eve day plans of cooking and visiting and generally having a very pleasant, companionable day and also resulted in my resorting to hard physical scrubbing of floors and furniture instead.

I made certain that I showed (yet again!) Dona Lucy the exploding paint in the bathroom and the paint chips gently sifting down upon my bed and repeated my request that this be redone and correctly, please. Well, he’s been out on the patio for 3 hours now, scrapping and painting merrily, complete with the cigarette hanging from his mouth as he crept along the patio railing painting over his head. Thus I’ve had to keep the window louvers shut tight to slow down the rate that it flies into the apartment and also preventing fresh air coming in as well.

I honestly believe that Mr. Paint Man is a respectful, genial individual but given the fact that I have been living in a renovation nightmare for a week now, complete with filthy paint-splattered floors and spackled screens that glow brightly in the evening dark, I am exacting my revenge.

First it was the fact that he suffered terrible confusion when he heard two very different voices speaking while knowing that I was the only person here. I was on video link with my husband in Canada at the time and explained we were talking through the computer. Then it was the fact that he has been listening to me talk out loud, with various levels of volume to the computer while I scribble this note, complete with bursts of laughter and giggling. Lastly, I doubt the gentleman has ever heard of, yet alone experienced, Janis Joplin blaring at high volume but this is my revenge!








He has just completed the patio so before he could leave I very gently apologized for having a problem and proceeded to show him areas that needed re-doing. He is a delightful man but given the water saturated roof area, all I can reasonably expect is that he scrape a slightly bigger area, repaint it and make his exit.


There’s always a way to make the best of a bad situation and my approach generally involves a fair amount of rather twisted humour though not at the other person’s expense. I may be living in interesting times, but Mr. Paint Man will not forget his little adventures of dealing with the “poco loco gringa”!

Feliz Navidad aka Be Careful What You Ask For

My apartment is on the top floor of a private house and has been suffering from a leaky roof for a number of years now. On occasion another piece of tin is hauled up and secured into place, thus constituting a repair. The result of that sort of repair is the fact that the ceiling leaks water in two out of three rooms and has permeated the entire ceiling with water.

I had noticed rather drastic topographical changes in the surface of the paint while I was here last season but when I returned in November, the situation was no longer to be avoided. Black mould had established itself in various locations and the paint was literally throwing itself from the ceiling in sheets, chunks, chips and gently floating minute particles. Dishes in the drying rack had to be covered from the white mist of paint; preparing food consisted of towels covering everything while I leaned over the chopping board to prevent the paint from landing. Sweeping floors entailed sweeping all ceilings first; bedtime involved brushing the paint off of pillows and bedspread and morning wakeup included brushing paint chips out of my hair.

I really like Dona Lucy and her husband Stephan; we’ve known each other for five years now and they have always treated me like a (slightly odd) member of the family. I also dislike any form of confrontation but the snapping point for me was the day that paint landed on my laptop while I was working. The paint is white but I literally saw red at that moment!

What ensued was a gentle but firm conversation with their daughter, pointing out various areas and the resulting messes and clearly stating that I loved the apartment, did not want to make problems for the family but something had to be done before my husband arrived in February. I will “stretch” the truth when necessary and made it clear that no matter how much I loved living here, if my husband saw this he wouldn’t allow me to stay here any longer. In truth, my partner is my equal in decision making, but “male dominance and control of money” is a common attitude here and I chose to put the blame on him.

Well, shortly after that I was informed by both elders that I would be getting both a new roof and a new paint job for the apartment within the next few weeks. I was ecstatic and rather exuberant in my appreciation for their efforts and considered the situation dealt with.

A couple days later I was woken at 6am by the screeching sounds of tin being hauled, flung and dragged upon the patio and roof. Not a pleasant way to waken but I reassured myself that the new roof was happening and that would be worth tolerating the noise. It rained at 7:30 am, (a brief but amazing deluge) all work stopped and simply did not start again that day or any other.

December 24th started well with me in the kitchen by 7am creating “pudding” pies for my 10 year old friend, boiling a chicken and various vegetables for soup stock and thoroughly enjoying myself with my plans for the day.

That plan was completely waylaid by 8am.

The painting man arrived, complete with step stool, paint and assorted tools and I was informed that he was going to paint the apartment right now. In the course of the next four hours, every moveable piece of furniture was shoved out onto the patio, my computer was secured in its travel case and the propane stove disconnected.

I could hear him scrapping ceilings in the bathroom and bedroom while I packed up the main room. I could hear him moving my bed back and forth, his step stool screeching across the ceramic tiles and kept reassuring myself that all was well with his work.

I resorted to cleaning the bathroom while he worked in the main room. I swear the majority of the paint never got near the ceiling when I saw the evidence of smears and streaks dribbling down the tiled walls and the sprayed splatter of white paint that covered the floor.

I have stated clearly that I do not like housework but I also firmly believe that if you’re going to do something, do it right. I’m also not very mobile or flexible anymore so getting down on hands and knees is an orchestrated procedure. I was a fetching sight with my bucket of cleaning water, mop up rags and scratch pad in hand, kneeling on a sacrificial pillow and scrubbing every square inch of floor to remove the copious amounts of paint.

Dona Lucy is a rather mischievous woman and took grand delight in telling me that the new paint was my Christmas present. That was early in the morning when my sense of humour was still partially intact. She returned at 1pm to deliver me a plate of hot food and when she stuck her head into the bedroom to tell me it was on the table for me, I didn’t even bother trying to get up from the floor and quietly thanked her for the meal. I resorted to muttering obscenities under my breath, vigorously scouring the floor, entertaining thoughts of “Happy Ho Ho” to you while keeping my temper in check and managed to get half of the bedroom finished by 3pm.

That’s when I realized it was getting quite dark. The afternoon rains were about to arrive and I dashed about rescuing belongings from the patio before they got soaked. Finally by 5pm I had everything indoors, regardless of the state of the floors and was collapsed in my chair when my 10 year old friend arrived.

I had been expected at their house at 4pm and he was sent to check on me. During our conversation I learned that all the children were waiting to open their presents and would not be given permission to do so until I arrived. With abject apologies I assured him that I would shower, get dressed and get over to his house as soon as possible.

To be honest, the last thing I wanted to deal with at that point was any semblance of holiday cheer, small children or noise, but I dutifully arrived by 5 pm with a happy face pasted on and proceeded to make myself enjoy the evening. Thankfully I really enjoy the family and with judicious applications of rum and tamales, I had a thoroughly pleasant evening.

Christmas Day did not evoke any semblance of peace and serenity as the first thing I saw upon waking was peeling paint on the ceiling above me. When I removed the pillow from my face, it was still there. Shortly afterwards, after dragging my very sore body from my bed (remember the hands and knees scrubbing and furniture moving?) I realized the bathroom ceiling paint had simply erupted with chunks of paint hanging down, a fine mist of particulate matter drifting down and encasing not only my hairbrush but toothbrush as well.





I haven’t believed in Santa for a number of decades but at this point in time I swear I will be very, very careful about what I ask for in the future.

PS Anyone know a good roofer and professional house painter?

My First Honduran Christmas

This has been my “first” Christmas to be celebrated in Honduras and overall, it’s been a very pleasant learning experience. Originally, I was somewhat appalled at the level of commercialization of this religious holiday, with excessive store displays, huge amounts of various decorations, presents and other assorted stuff available to purchase and the sense of urgency for buying and selling throughout the city of La Ceiba.

Thankfully, there were other much more positive aspects of the season that I discovered. There was an early evening when the hymns from a church service came floating through the air into the apartment and there were the sounds of stereos playing familiar Christmas tunes in both English and Spanish. Admittedly, “Frosty the Snowman” doesn’t work for me in either language but I was totally enamoured with “The First Noel” in the soft sounds of Spanish.

It seems to me that a Honduran Christmas is primarily celebrated on the evening before, complete with presents for children, food, refreshments and family gatherings lasting long, long into the night. The decorations have been up, set out and plugged in for weeks beforehand; fireworks of all sizes and explosive qualities are set off literally 24 hours a day for a least a week before and non religious folks celebrate by the sharing of food (tamales are a favourite) with all friends and family. Thus my Christmas Eve was spent with my family here, with friends and neighbours joining us to dance outside on the patio, enjoy small boccas and drinks and lots of laughter, music and general fun for all ages.

Christmas Day was a quiet day, with me sleeping in from the night before and then indulging myself in lots of cooking, as I’d invited the family to my place for Boxing Day dinner. There was time for making an ever increasing list of the reasons why I’m thankful to be alive, to be here in La Ceiba and blessed with the companionship of caring people (here and elsewhere!) in my life. There was time for visits with my girlfriend and her house guest, time for a walk on the beach (before the afternoon deluge!) and a lovely lazy evening curled up with a good story book.

Wishing you all blessings of peace, joy and love in your lives, and still making my “thank you’s”, Stephanie

Honduran Snowman

Sometimes, you just have to make your own fun!

I’m a northern gal, where the snow has been on the ground for 6 weeks (or more!) by the time the official first day of winter arrives and though I no longer welcome cold weather there are some things that I do miss.

Tobogganing down the hill on our main road, stamping out messages in the snow for others to find , discovering various footprints left behind by passing four legged friends large and small and building snowmen (and other assorted snow creatures!).

The fridge finally had to be defrosted, as the freezer door no longer opened and this is a job that I particularly dislike. Mind you I’m not happy about doing any form of housework because no matter how good a job you do, it just doesn’t stay done.

Well, one of my silly notions struck, I grabbed a spoon and scooped out some of the ice and here’s the result of my own foolishness. Happy Solstice everyone!

It's a Lovely Day in the Neighbourhood

This is something that I tried to post on Dec. 15th. It appears that Blogger and I are having issues with each other and I haven't decided just what the problem is - me or it!


It’s just amazing what a little bit of sunshine can do!

After the weeks of cold weather and the severe flooding rain just four days ago, our little piece of paradise has decided to let the sun shine once more, bringing comfortable warmth and renewed hope to everyone.

The barrio (neighbourhood) is busy and noisy again with folks working on home repairs, children and dogs running merrily amok and the enterprising vendors cruising the streets once more.

There were three men, carrying a couple of ornate mirrors, a large carved rocking chair and even a five drawer chest on a dolly, who came through our street earlier today trying to sell their furniture door to door. There were a couple of hand cart vegetable sellers calling out their wares, a yard man (complete with his gum boots and machete) going gate to gate looking for work and at the beginning of the video you can hear the man selling shrimp, calling out “camarones, camarones”.

It’s the small minutiae of life that amuses and entertains me so readily and now that the blue skies and sunshine are back, it’s so very easy to be happy here again.

A very different Christmas

I’m not a fan of the commercial aspects of the Christmas season, nor am I a practising Christian so there isn’t a religious element for myself but being here in La Ceiba for the past few weeks has opened my eyes, with reactions ranging from appalled shock, some amazement and sheer endearment at other moments.

Firstly, I’m from the north where the snow starts sometime near the end of October and by the time mid December slips up on me, there’s lots of snow on the ground. We go out on our own land and bring home a (used to be) live tree to decorate with a treasured assortment of momentos that have been created and saved over the years. Every year I buy a sacrificial poinsettia plant that might last the two or three weeks of the “holidays” as long as someone else cares for it. I swear if I look at them, they die!

I send out family based newsletters that encapsulate the lives of our family (including the four legged members); some years I create photo collections to share as gifts with family and most years I turn into a combination of “mad scientist” and “assembly line baker” and produce enough shortbread, fancy cookies and squares to induce a diabetic shock just by passing through my kitchen.

This year, my decision to return to Honduras (before January) came somewhat abruptly and in the two weeks before departure, I managed to finish off the newsletter and print photos and get “care packages” into the mail by November 21st. This is a complete time record for me! I always have great intentions but then life interferes with my silly plans and mail outs have been as late as Dec. 17th in the past.

Well, now I’m in Honduras. Admittedly there isn’t any snow but with the extended rainy season still grasping us by whatever she can reach, it’s been cold, grey and damp. I am both perturbed and amazed at the level of “decorating for the season” that occurs both commercially and domestically, for those who can afford to do so, of course.

One of my top ten most appalling scenes is the golden Coca Cola Christmas tree on the main floor of the MegaPlaza Mall, with a very close second being the stunning proliferation of multi coloured and flashing strings of lights found everywhere. Maybe I’m the Grinch for thinking that with the cost of electrical power, the money could be spent elsewhere or maybe I still believe the old wives tales of strobe lights causing seizures but I’ve developed the nasty habit of wincing when confronted with them!

Another pet peeve is the plastic (usually bent in a few places!) trees that are for sale everywhere and the fact that the majority of decorative signs are in English rather than Spanish. I know Walmart is universal, but English isn’t the only language in the world! (Yes, Virginia, we have a Walmart in La Ceiba – it’s called Paiz)

During my walks around El Centro I have seen the excessive glut of commercial decorative efforts. One place has a Santa in a box (that pops endlessly up and down) with an 8’ tall Frosty the Snowman and hand waving Santa standing guard. There are plastic trees in colours ranging from green, gold, pink, silver and white (complete with the seizure inducing flashing lights!) that range in size from 12inches to 12 feet in height. The clerks at the Paiz wear red Santa hats as part of their uniform and absolutely everyone has something “Christmasy” to sell.

Now that there’s only 10 shopping days left, I’m finding vendors setting up on street corners with their own variety of Christmas oriented gee gaws for sale. Bastante! Enough!

So with that sentiment in mind, enjoy the accompanying photos.

I know my girlfriend thinks I’m being a difficult Canadian because I refuse to jump on the commercial bandwagon and decorate my own little place. So I bought a box of tissues (complete with a Disney Christmas motif), put it out on the table and informed her that “there, I’ve done my decorating for the holiday season!” Thankfully, she’s a sweetheart and just laughed at my humour!

The Rains have paused...

The city of La Ceiba is sprawled out within a fair range of physical geography, with the Caribbean Sea on the north, Rio Cangrejal with its sandbars to the east, and numerous smaller rivers to the west. The southern side of the extended city spreads through hillsides that lead to the Cordillera Nombre de Dios mountain range.

In essence, La Ceiba is built on a flood plain and viewed from the air after heavy rains can be an impressive sight, with its outlying villages and plantations laid out on a grid-like pattern of cleared areas, raised roads and irrigation canals. I flew into La Ceiba once and witnessed the sight of miles and miles of murky brown water trapped between the slightly raised highway and borders of various trees.

It is quite stunning from a “bird’s eye” view but a horrible occurrence for those on the ground and struggling to cope with the after effects of such flooding. Food and commercial crops either washed away or simply submerged; no clean drinking water supplies, no access to services due to roads being either washed out or bridges closed in advance of washing out.

The rains are not stopping…… This started approximately 4:30 am yesterday and it’s now 27 hours later. The news coverage has been simply appalling with people waist deep in water, a woman and her children being picked up by a passing loader, a man in a boat in the middle of the street and the list just goes on and on…

The rain finally eased about 9am this morning and though the clouds are still terribly low and heavy, I did hear two flights coming in so there’s a presumption that the airport is open and thus hopefully the roads leading to and from it!

On my side of town, the northern Caribbean Sea side, life has pretty much settled back to normal. Normal for after heavy rains that is! Some flooded side streets, some amazingly angry roaring surf and everything soppy, over saturated wet with folks bundling up in whatever they can find to keep warm in the damp and cold breeze.



This part of La Ceiba is the original area and is actually the highest part of the town, though only meters from the open sea you wouldn’t believe it. Obviously there has been extreme flooding in Miramar, Guadalupe and other areas slightly further west but these have always been marginalized and lower lying areas to start with.

The extreme flooding that has occurred has been more to the south of the town – in the newer subdivisions and outlying areas whereby there has been extensive building and development without the necessary infrastructure of drainage, sewage, land stabilization and such. It is those areas where almost all of the video coverage is coming from and though some of those people may be somewhat more affluent, no one, absolutely no one can afford the costs to home, family and self that this disaster has caused.

I noticed that my tap water smelt slightly of sewage but I’m able to have drinking water delivered. I’m one of the fortunate ones.





I did get out today, along the shore barrios and truly there really isn’t much more than the usual amount of street flooding that normally occurs after any heavy rain. All of the El Centro was attempting to do business as usual, though with such poor weather, and just sheer cold!, there weren’t the numbers of folks that I normally see. I stopped and spoke with a few market vendors. One woman said her daughter had lost her house, another said her brother’s family had lost theirs, some injuries were mentioned but overall, my sense is that folks are simply exhausted.

They’re exhausted by the fear, the weather, the cold, the stress, the uncertainty of knowing if the rainy season will ever end; everyone has family or friends that have been horribly affected and yet it supposed to be Christmas so very soon.

I will assure you, my friends that I am perfectly safe, dry and secure but my heart is breaking for so many people here. I know that you’re dealing with hard or bad weather yourselves but at least you have a familial and social safety net to rely on when hardship happens to fall. What if everyone around you lost everything at the same time, what would you be able to do? That’s what a lot of folks are trying to deal with here.

Feliz navidad, amigos….


This video shows Playa Taty's Restaurant and La Quinta Real Hotel, two of the top end places in La Ceiba. The storm surge has been so powerful, so quickly that the debris is still coming in, yet alone being cleaned up.

If You're Afraid of Spiders, STOP!

WARNING: If you have arachnophobia , STOP right now!


I’m not generally squeamish about bugs and critters: doing laundry for little boys who forget to take their fishing worms out of their blue jean pockets (Thanks, Bro!) and gardening with little girls who want me to re-attach legs to a dead locusts ("Fix, Momma!") ensured that I wasn't going to be able to have issues about our smaller friends.

Okay, okay.... I will admit to doing my own version of the “cucaracha dance” when I discovered cockroaches in my beach-side motel room (complete with high pitched shrieks) but other than that and a small issue with large moths inside my northern home, I’m generally pretty calm and rather respectful in most ways for this world’s “other” creatures.

This philosophy has been seriously challenged the last couple of weeks in my apartment in La Ceiba.

The first episode with an extremely large (close to two inches in length!) spider occurred in the bathroom, late at night, and resulted in blood curdling screams! And a definite lack of sleep that night as it had moved much faster than I did, and vamoosed its way into the wooden door frame – complete with the loud clicking of its articulated legs.

The second episode turned out worse. I (somehow!) managed to stomp this specific spider but not completely, as it left three legs behind and kept on moving under the wall in the closet! I reassured myself that it couldn’t possibly live and calmed down enough to be able to sleep later that night.

Three days later, I discovered “Brown Buddy” alive and well on the bedroom ceiling and with a series of broom flailings, stomping, hyperventilation and the dreaded adrenaline, not only managed to kill it but also retrieved the remains to ensure its discontinued existence! Yes, in the midst of the shaking I did inform it that I was sorry but, quite frankly, it had to go!

So, anyone got any good bug books? I know spiders are supposed to be our friends thanks to their appetite for other small creatures but I’m having an issue about sharing space with these critters.


Hope you have a good sleep tonight!

Top and Bottom Views












And to think it lived for three days, sans legs!

Local TV Channel: Flooding in La Ceiba

Here are a series of photographs I took of the local TV channel pictures of the flooding in La Ceiba. Sorry for the poor quality but at least you can see what's really happening here!

I'll get out later today and gather my own series of photos, and hopefully video, to include in another post. And you thought I was sitting bare foot on the beach, tipping back a "cold one".

HA HA HA, I should have brought my Wellingtons!

This Is Rain!!!

The latest weather report stated that there was another cold front going to move in today and that there might be a minor amount of rain involved in its arrival. HAH! So much for technology!

This latest storm arrived about 4:30 this morning, with me lying in bed wondering what the noise was that had woken me. It took a few minutes for my brain cell matter to kick into gear and identify this particular noise and when I finally registered that it was rain, I lurched out of bed to close the bathroom window.

Too late, this storm had come from the north and the wind had driven the rain through the louvers to make a briskly flowing little stream that I spotted before slipping and sliding on the wet tiles. So there were a few minutes spent closing all of the windows and mopping up what had already arrived indoors. What a lovely way to start the morning!

It has been an unseasonably long and extremely damaging rainy season this past two months in Honduras and I’ve listened to reports (prior to this particular storm) of main highway closures, major roadway wash outs and towns like Trujillo being cut off from supplies and reliant upon air delivery of basic necessities like clean drinking water.

Even my own arrival here November 25th entailed a prolonged wait at San Pedro Sula airport, waiting for a van to drive us to La Ceiba, as its airport was closed that day (and evening!) due to weather. That particular 3 hour long, night drive also included the driver coaxing our van over the single lane (which was all that remained of the original bridge) after being allowed through by the federales stationed there.

I’ve talked and written about the torrential tropical rains that we get here in La Ceiba, in the past but truly this must have been the mother of all storms that arrived today. Heavy rains with individual reports of 25cm (10”) in the first 12 hours; horrendous thunder erupting immediately over the house over the course of 2 hours this morning and there is no end in sight.

I turned on the local news channel and watched the clips of whole barrios (neighbourhoods) being washed out complete with people standing or walking in thigh high waters, buildings collapsing, taxis with water up to the door windows and sewage canals overflowing throughout the whole city. There were pictures of parks with two and three feet of water running through them and there are reports of the bridges on the main highway leading to the airport and to Tela being closed, for fear of them washing out. Needless to say, there won’t be any flights arriving while this continues!

Everyone here is at the complete mercy of the weather. You can’t get around town, there’s no business for the market sellers or street vendors and the poorest people who live in the tin and wooden beach shanties in Miramar or other extremely impoverished areas are suffering grievously. I’m convinced that people may well die today because of the flooding as well as the fact that there will be a high increase in the number of infectious bronchial and contaminated water diseases over the next days and possibly weeks.

This is just another side to living in Paradise and in my estimation, only the toughest survive, sadly enough.

I've included a 10 second video so make sure your sound is a high volume to get the full effect of the rain on the tin roofs of my barrio. Now imagine this sound going on for hours and hours, all day and all night.....

Things Your Momma Taught You

Do you remember your Momma teaching you the adage: “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all”?

Well, that’s rather how I’ve been feeling about my sadly neglected blog postings this past seven months. It’s not that I’ve changed my mind about Honduras, not at all! Turning my back on this country and her people would be akin to removing a glorious part of my heart and soul and I wouldn’t want to live without the ongoing adventures that happen to me here.

My difficulty with maintaining the blog arose from health issues and a most unseasonably cold summer in northern Canada. I’ve been living with progressive osteoarthritis for ten years now and the past year has been one of the more difficult ones with regards to pain management and mobility issues. But my pain specialist has been very effective and I’m now on a 6 month wait list for a hip re-surfacing operation, so there is new hope in my life for being independently mobile again. (Maybe even without my funky Honduran walking stick!)

I returned to La Ceiba, Honduras, November 25th to escape from the cold and snow of a northern Canada winter and will be soaking up the heat for my cranky bones now that the rains appear to have ceased. The rain will be another topic for a posting; it’s the first time I’ve been here this time of year and it can be cruelly damp and cold!

I do NOT want my health issues to become either the focus of my own life or of my blog postings which is why I referred to the adage about keeping quiet if you can’t be positive.

Returning to my simple, selfish little life in La Ceiba has does wonders for renewing my soul and positive energy reserves, so that’s why I’m finally back to writing again. Be patient while I re-learn how to manage the posting and other details (I’m really not computer literate, so it’s almost as hard as learning Spanish!) and let me know what you think of my stories and writing style.

Grinning from ear to ear, Stephanie