I have been to Olancho once before. Karla's family lives there. We visited the last time I was here. However, as Jairo points out every time we are in the car, these days things are very different. In Tegucigalpa that is usually followed by a story of rape, kidnapping or shooting and he points out the corner where it happened as we pass by. But on the way to Olancho it was about the "narcos", the people trafficking drugs from South America to the US. He said wait and see - the roads change when we get to a narco's house.
First we stopped at a Menonite bakery, had breakfast, and got some treats "for Lourdes" which we snacked on throughout the day. Most of them did make it home, but I didn't see Lourdes eat any. My favorite was a sort of peanut brittle made with sugar cane, so the brittle part just melted in my mouth. Yumm. Many things about this day reminded me of my father. The peanut brittle was one.
We passed a guy carrying an iguana. I asked why the guy was carrying an iguana. Jairo said he must have killed it to make soup.
We passed a lot of forrest fires which have now filled the valley of Tegucigalpa with a deep haze. There were kids trying to earn money by standing in the road, then madly shoveling dirt to fill in potholes every time a car came by. I thought it creative. Jairo thought it a road hazard. We passed through a small village - a few houses on the side of the road - which Jairo said belonged to the father of the former president. They were typical shacks, nothing very nice. Jairo said that the former president, Mel Zelaya, who was pulled out of bed in his pajamas because he refused to leave office when I visited 2 years ago, prided himself on being revolutionary. However, his father had killed many, many revolutionary people. Jairo showed me where Zelaya's father buried people known to be revolutionary in a well, placed explosives inside and blew them up.
Further along the road changed. There was the typical road block, which is armed with military men, at the border of Olancho. (Olancho is a state inside Honduras, just like New York is a state within the US.) After the road block the road appeared to be of cement. It was new and perfectly smooth, very unlike most of the rest of the trip. There were several farms along the way where the cows were fatter, the horses healthier, the fields more well kept. These belonged to the "narcos" or drug traffickers. It was easy to see how a plane could land on the road and pull right up the driveway, past a huge, beautiful home to a big warehouse. In fact there was even a cell tower that would be an easy guide at night for the airplanes to find the highway, although it's purpose was supposed to be for power to the local people. The contrast of the native people and the "narcos" was very apparent. The narcos are even building a church, called "Casa de Dios" or House of God which was pretty spectacular from the outside. So much money amidst such poverty.
Another new thing I saw was "jugo de caña" which is the juice of a tree. It is sweet and ferments inside whatever bottle they put it in so that it makes a nice, seasonal beverage. There were stands along the road selling all sorts of things, but at one point this was the main product. They were bottled in whatever the people could find. Mostly a lot of coke bottles. I also saw a Tilapia farm which was interesting, mostly because I have always had an interest in farm raised fish since I was a child and visited fish farms near my house. It was pretty, no cement, but all natural with many, many ponds of tilapia.
The private school the boys attend was very nice, extremely well kept and so peaceful. I am happy they can get away to such a place. Otherwise they may never have imagined this sort of life. Their living areas are much nicer than their homes. And they get three square meals. They were talking about getting used to the food there and eating their vegetables.
