Skip to main content

The Varela Birthdays

Continuing on then with the birthdays this past week we had both Carlitos, also known as Chihua, and his little sister Dariana. I love this family, the way the take care of each other, the way they all tend to their mother...they way all 7 of them sleep in one bed. They're incredibly close and their daily interactions and ventures just leave me in stitches. We had a good 2 days celebrating the back-to-back birthdays.
the youngest of the varela crew...still not sure how i feel about him

ok, this isn't related to anything...it's just Kaka half-observing the fiesta. he's been hanging around a lot lately, on the fringes. which is fine, he's a joy to be around, it's just a bit curious.

chihua is now 15. i remember the first time i met him 2 years ago - it seems like yesterday that i invited him and his brother to go to the river with us. he has become such a huge part of my life and door to so many other people within the community. he has enormous influence with the other kids and it's almost always for the good. chihua is such that if i need to sway the opinion of a group of kids i go to him first and allow him to do it - he's like the pied piper of los laureles.

and then there's his simpleton sister, dariana. megan keiser anyone?

having eaten his cake it's now time to escape

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Coming to Honduras

The other day in philosophy class I was teaching about existentialism, a philosophy with which I have myriad problems. The universe is absurd, life is meaningless, authenticate yourself with irrational leaps of faith! Hopeless and disconnected from reality if you ask me. Get out of the café Camus, mix with some common folk! Nevertheless, as I was introducing the material I mentioned that the existentialists really probed the questions of Life's meaning and purpose:

"How do I create myself to be unique and significant?" "How do I live an authentic existence?" "How do I give my life meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless universe?"
These seem to be questions that are attendant to societies that possess extreme wealth and privilege and an over-abundance of leisure time. I have serious doubts that 15th Century English peasants or even nobles for that matter, spent much time contemplating how they might make their lives unique or leave a significa…

Art Day

I've been forced into an "art-day" by Girlfriend; against my better judgement I've decided to turn to the only medium that I'm remotely skilled at. It's been far too long since I've written anything of worth and as I sit here, pondering my lack of output in the last 4 years, I'm left wondering if I have anything substantial left to offer to "The Conversation". I think I did once, when my integrity and identity were intact and people were genuinely curious about my life here. For reasons too numerous to count though, not the least of which is my own retreat from reflective thought put down on paper, I can't shake the feeling that I've lost the ability to speak and be heard. Girlfriend and I are reading a book about marriage together given to me by my sister; we take turns reading it aloud to the other and as salient points are read we often stop and discuss our thoughts. Thus far it's been a fairly blithe and carefree romp through…

10 Years In Honduras

My good friend Jessiel Rivera reminded me the other day that it was 10 years ago this month that I arrived here in La Ceiba. I remember my arrival here from Costa Rica fairly vividly. I had been getting teary-eyed on the plane from a combination of sleep deprivation, my longing to remain with my friends in beautiful San Jose and some sad indie music on my iPod. It was a hot and terribly humid Sunday afternoon when I landed in the La Ceiba airport and when I stepped off the 10-seater hotbox of an airplane onto the tarmac I was sweaty, bleary-eyed and disheveled. I looked like a typical gringo backpacker except for my mountain of luggage that I had in tow. Two members of the Central Mennonite Church picked me up in their car; how they knew I was the Gringo they were supposed to collect was beyond me but they got it right. I remember them remarking on the number of suitcases I had brought (3) and their heaviness (maximum weight allowance); and the resulting weight of embarrassment I felt…