Sh*t Roosters Say

If you live in Honduras, or a Latino neighborhood in Los Angeles, you probably live within earshot of chickens. More specifically, roosters. A rooster crowing is something I will never get used to. That sound has to be on a list with anything Janice Litman and Gilbert Gottfried say, nails screeching across a chalkboard and Sh*t Girlfriends Say coming out of your girlfriend's mouth. It wouldn't be so bad if they were only boisterous at the crack of dawn, as is portrayed in cartoons. In reality, they can and will make noise at any time of day. Not the best background noise to have blaring through your window during skype meetings, or pillow talk. I'm assuming the latter, I wouldn't know anything about that these days.

Not really related, but check out this video of the hot chicks next door.  

Cold Showers and Writing

An update about "finally" posting on a blog scrolled across my Facebook feed today, respected as an intelligent person, I decided to follow her >>>link<<<. Her post was so amusing, that it motivated me to "finally" update my blog in hopes of amusing one of my 3 or 4 followers. If I get one, that's a pretty big percentage. I almost didn't check how long she she withheld from blogging, but my blogging etiquette kicked in, forcing me to click previous. Turns out, she was away for less than a month. Pff. Check out my previous post, that's what's up. That's almost nine months. I could have put a baby in someone, taken baby classes, built a crib, and created a morphthing photo of me and the lucky lady. All she did was go to >>>Antigua, Guatemala<<<. I'd rather go there than put a baby in someone though.

Since I am serious about my return to blogging, I skimmed through past posts that didn't align with my current vibe. Anything with a negative tone has been deleted, I really don't have anything to be upset about. I'm not sleeping on cardboard, a floor, or a couch. When I get back to one of those, I'm allowed to complain.

Another funny thing about my previous post: I didn't have hot water then, I don't have hot water now. Coincidence? I will never get used to that.

I shouldn't have left you...

Without a dope blog to burn to!

After putting in a couple hours of work, 3 workout sessions, and three cold showers, all between 10 PM and 7 AM; I've come to realize that I should be writing.

What should you look forward to?
Unemployed, or is it self-employed? Now I'm single, no more fiancee. Dating, or something like it. Inspiration!

Business in Honduras - The Honduran Worker Part 1

B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad) - Outkast
"before you re-up, get a lap top. Make a business for yourself, boy set some goals. Make a fat dime out of dust and coals"

I've spent countless hours discussing the problems with business in Honduras. I've spent even more hours studying "Business in Honduras". No not studying business at a university, I've been studying business here with a more "hands on" approach. I'm not an economist or expert on local business, but I can say that I have spent some time in various levels of business in Honduras. I also like to claim that Polache and the undercover boss T.V. show kinda jacked my idea, but I'm not worried about it because I've forgotten better ideas than that!

I've worked (for short experimental stints) as a cattle herder and yard worker in San Manuel and a coconut vendor on the beaches of Tela. Through these "internships" I gained valuable insight about the type of work that most Hondurans depend on and the living conditions they retreat to after work. I've worked as a teacher at a private school, which has allowed me to understand some of the flaws in our educational system. I've managed "accounting" departments for a resort and small retail chain, with terrible timing, as I learned how political sanctions (during the "coup") on an already impoverished country and a dwindling economy (world and local) can hinder business. My tenure as the manager of a hostel granted me understanding of the tourism industry and it's importance to our economy. All of these jobs gave me an opportunity to study the common procedures, or lack thereof, that are practiced (or not) in most businesses. More importantly, I've been blessed with the opportunity to discover what being "Honduran" really means.

Regardless of what industry you discuss; agricultural, tourism / service related, educational, manufacturing, etc..., EVERYONE has one common complaint: the workforce. No one voices that complaint louder that Gringos. I even complained about the same thing when I first arrived in Honduras (and still do sometimes). Gringos (and I) are accustomed to business in the U.S. and other developed nations. Nations that provide its citizens with top notch education and even work training for free. In these countries, everyone has an opportunity for advancement because hard work and dedication can level the playing field for anyone. Even people from trailer parks and the projects can climb the ladder if they have the will for it. It may be difficult, but nothing is impossible. Unfortunately, that's not the case in Honduras. We don't have many of those "feel good" stories about the Mc Donald's employee ending up as a Regional Manager. There is no opportunity for growth here, only survival. It's unreasonable to assume that people in Honduras will approach work with the same dedication.

"Hey, I started out mopping the floor just like you guys. But now... now I'm washing lettuce. Soon I'll be on fries; then the grill. And pretty soon, I'll make assistant manager, and that's when the big bucks start rolling in." - As funny as this seems, it's more than most Hondurans get!

Gettin it by Too Short
"Get your kids in school, so they can get an education, get a degree and take a vacation."

Getting paid and working conditions!
I've never been able to understand how people can survive on minimum wage (In the US or Honduras). When I lived in L.A., the California minimum was $8.00 per hour. This is based on a 40 hour work week, paid sick days and vacation time. California law also mandates two breaks and overtime pay; one 15 minute and one 1 hour lunch break per 8 hour shift in addition to overtime pay for work exceeding an 8 hour shift (time and a half after 8 hours and double pay after 12 hours). Minimum wage pay doesn't provide enough for a family to live on, but a single person gets by with approximately $1,000 / month. My rent alone surpassed that by $600, "that's crazy (Say it like Tracy Morgan)!!!" Even minimum wage employees in the US strive to do their best on a daily basis because you can stand out and snatch that opportunity to grow.

When I arrived in Honduras, minimum wage was Lps. 3,500 per month. That's $185.23 based on a 46 hour work week, usually with no breaks, no company sick days. Based on a 26 day work month, that's Lps. 134.62 ($7.12) per day with only four days off per month!!! Now factor in the travel expense of Lps. 20 - 60. Dayyyyuuuuum!!! The only way you can get compensated for sick days is by paying into social security (from that whopping salary), which employers detest. Overtime pay is a foreign concept even to the Gringos here. I've witnessed employers demand and expect (not request) an employee to work double shifts and compensate that second shift for a lower rate than their normal pay. In some cases, employees receive absolutely no compensation for working extra hours. Think I'm fibbing? Check out this article from the Bay Islands Voice (Click Here)

The Honduran minimum wage has been raised to Lps. 5,500 per month. A substantial increment (57.14%), but still far from enough for anyone to survive on. At first, I was completely opposed to the sudden increase. I worried about the negative effects on small business and the lay offs that would follow. Some businesses had to close their doors, some decided to lay off employees and extend hours for the ones that remained in order to survive. Other businesses decided to disregard the new laws and STILL pay less than the minimum. In some cases employers exploited the desperate need of employees by extending their hours and refusing to pay them a fair rate for the extended hours. They actually benefited at the expense of the labor force. So now, one person works twice as much and the employers pay less than what they would pay two people.

With these working conditions and compensation rates, it's no wonder why our economy is so dependent on remittances from our people in the U.S.

Our other sources of income stem from the exportation of produce (mostly bananas and coffee), tourism, and the slowly growing textile production or "maquilas". Ironically, these industries are the most infamous for exploiting and mistreating the Honduran workforce. How can we expect our agricultural, textile and tourism industries to grow if we mistreat the workforce that these industries are dependent on?

Do we really expect to diversify our economy with "call centers" and new production if we haven't been successful with the industries we've relied on for years?


From personal experience:
I worked at a resort as the Accounting Manager, I also lived there (For free? Hell nah!!!). When I arrived in May 09, my first task was to "close out the fourth quarter for 2008". WTF!!!?!?!?!?!

Let me put it in perspective: We were then in the second quarter of 2009 and I had to close out the last quarter for the previous year. This means that I had to generate maintenance billing (without any record of maintenance work or expenses) for October - December in 2008, and distribute rental income to the owners of the rental units. It is safe to assume that all the owners were pissed about the uncertainty of their rental income. Don't get it twisted, I wasn't being asked to solely focus on 2008's 4th Q, I also had to work on 2009's 1st Q and all the day to day responsibilities that go along with managing an accounting department AND trying to develop training material for my department (I was silly enough to think I would have time for that).

On many days, I would be in my office at 5 A.M., trying to get a jump on things without any interruptions from the day to day routine or co-workers. At 7 A.M., I would head to the restaurant for breakfast. On many occasions, I arrived there to realize that none of the servers came to work in protest of terrible treatment from superiors or they had simply quit. Always having my employer's best interest in mind, I would decide to tend to the restaurant customers vacationing at the resort so they didn't leave with a bad taste in their mouths. I would sometimes do so until 10 A.M., when the employees designated to the afternoon shift would (be pressured to) show up to cover for the absences (for no pay, of course).. I would then return to my office and often work until 9 P.M. (or later), eating my lunch and dinner at my desk.

Guess what I received in return for my work and dedication? It's not compensation for extra hours, guess again... No, not a "Thank you" either, try again... I was faced with penalty threats and insults!!! Nice...!

Getting unpaid - Penalties!
At the private school I worked at, speaking in Spanish was a $5.00 fine!!! I was supposed to teach British Literature to kids that didn't speak or understand English. WTF?!?!?!

It is common practice in Honduras to penalize employees for mistakes. At one place I worked, I was penalized $3 for voiding a check, even if it was the boss' fault!!! I was also penalized for failing to deduct an absent day from someone's pay, that same absent day was then deducted from the employee's next paycheck. So the employee missed one day of work, and two days of work were deducted from two different employees. Huh?! At that same place, I witnessed waiters and cooks being charged the sales price of menu items ($7 - 15) that customers were not satisfied with or even if they changed their order. Broken glasses and plates also resulted in fines. In other countries, these losses are accounted for as business expenses, not an employee's personal expense.

Lets think about this in numbers: If someone is getting paid $7.12 per day and gets penalized $10 for a returned order, the employee is working that entire day and a portion of the next day for FREE and the restaurant is still making a profit on their dish. Am I the only person thinking "modern day slavery?"

Prestaciones!
Prestaciones is the Honduran version of severance pay. Employers cringe at the sound of this word and are willing to jump through hoops to avoid paying them. Honduran employers seem to pay them, while foreigners would rather pay others to "fix" the problem with legal intimidation. Before becoming aware of the business practices in Honduras and living conditions of the general population, I was opposed to this concept. But now, after familiarizing myself with the work and living conditions, I'm all for it. In most cases, Honduran's only have what they get every pay day.

Imagine a Honduran with zero savings quitting or being fired. What do you think they will resort to with no work? Think hard... nothing yet? Well marinade in Kanye West's quote for a few minutes. This is from the song, We Don't Care; "We forced to sell crack, rap, and get a job"... That's in the hood, now imagine that same mentality adapted to the third world... What do you get? I think it would go something like this: We forced to sell crack, rob, extort, kidnap and hope for a job...

You may ask, "Why would someone accept this treatment?" Again, most Hondurans only have what they are going to be paid and that is it. We live our lives accepting that we have no rights. No freedom of speech, no employment rights, no legal rights, and to top it off - all our public officials have been bought.

My respect to all the Honduran's that continue to work honestly despite these conditions. To all the Honduran's that have decided to resort to crime, "I undastand"...

IZZO by Jay-Z
Like I told you sell drugs - No! / Hov' did that so hopefully you won't have to go
through that

Don't Feel Right by the Roots
If you ain't tryin' to get popped, then give me a option

Part 2!!!
I haven't started writing part 2 of God know how many, but it will focus on stealing... That's another common complaint from Gringos, in the words of TWO of my former employers, "Every Honduran steals." Apparently these people were not familiar with the saying "When you point a finger, four point back at you" or the fact that I too, am a Honduran; so you're spitting in my face when you say that. Maybe by that time they had forgotten that when employing me, one of the first things, if not the first thing, that I was made aware of, is the fact that they "have two sets of books; one for the Government and one for the business." In other words, tax evasion.

Are they stealing from the Honduran worker? Are they stealing from the average Honduran family? Are they directly influencing the quality of education that Honduran's receive? Are they partly at fault for the poor preparation of the future workforce? YES! YES! YES! and YES! - tsk, tsk, tsk

Before ANOTHER Gringo attempts to argue that they prefer to "keep that money rather than give it to the corrupt politicians because their money is used for better purposes." I have to say, that's like the pot calling the kettle black... Who determines whether or not your "charitable contributions" (that will be used as tax write offs in the US) really benefit the Honduran people? It's no big secret that some "charities" are the source of income for many of the foreigners running them, and I don't know about you, but I haven't seen any of those Gringos living like Hondurans...

I do have to state that some people genuinely try to help Hondurans by setting up REAL non-profits, but not all...

Every company I've done accounting for in Honduras has an expense account titled "Theft Loss", so yes, SOME Hondurans do steal, but this also the rug that all the losses from poor management are swept under. Don't worry Hondurans actually stealing will also be discussed as to not disappoint the Gringos...

Common Sights in Honduras - Hanging Laundry

Hand washing is an art form. If you don't know what you're doing, you'll end up stretching your shirt collars and wearing them 80's style.

From Returning Catracho Report

You can do it yourself or pay someone to do it for you.

From Returning Catracho Report

Common Sights in Honduras - Electrical / Phone poles

This is a common sight in Honduras: Electric / Phone poles overrun with cables.

From Teguz

From Teguz

From Teguz

This bill has been "payed"...

Thank you Credomatic...

Honduran Words and Expressions - Wachiman

Wachiman

Noun. Someone employed as a caretaker, or watch man; more commonly known as "wachi." Not to be confused with a security guard, this hired help serves as a mere illusion of security; notorious for drinking / sleeping on the job and often accused of participating as the "inside man" in crimes. The machete is the traditional weapon of choice, although some carry firearms... and some of those firearms are actually loaded... and some of the loaded firearms actually work.


Synonym: Rent-a-cop

Usage:

#1. Se metieron a mi casa unos ladrones. Nos dejaron hule!

#2. Que pasada! Y el wachi?

#1. No vio nada, ese man estaba fundiado!




This is an actual wachi, a master at work...

Please excuse the lack of Spanish punctuations.

To Live and Die in L.A. - Santa Monica Pier

My current home doesn't offer many options for entertainment; I miss being able to run away somewhere, even if only for a few hours. In Los Angeles, The Santa Monica Pier is a perfect place for a little distraction. You can find anything from fine dining, fast food, shopping, and even an amusement park (ON THE PIER!!!). In the amusement park, you can board a roller coaster, Ferris wheel (the world's only solar powered Ferris wheel), and a sea dragon.

Not your cup of tea you say? If amusement park rides and eating out isn't your thing, go fish... You can also fish off the end of the pier (and it's not $50 an hour). I once caught a small Tiger Shark there (at 3 AM)! People fish from there at ALL hours of the day.

Still not your "thang"? Then just chill out on the beach or go enjoy the waves (we don't even have waves here!).

Still not enough... Well, the 3rd Street Promenade is only blocks away!

A day in the life of a Honduran - Selling Coconuts

In an effort to only use my own images on my blog, I will now be creating stick figure scenarios for anything I haven't captured a picture of.

"God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes

'Cause then you might know what it's like to sing the Blues"

Everlast - What It's Like

My life began anew when I arrived in Honduras. Pierre Ferrand, Blue Crab Enchiladas, Korean BBQ, Sushi, online grocery shopping, Gucci driving moccasins (before I owned I car of course!), Cali's finest (ooouuweee!) and an expensive apartment in a trendy neighborhood all became things of the past. Baleadas, fried chicken with plantains, a pulperia, the early retirement of ridiculously expensive shoes, and moto-taxi rides on dirt roads became my new reality. I was in a third world country (not exactly a developing country); no idea what I was going to do for work, no friends or family to help, and depleting resources. It is taking forever for me to find a niche here. In frustration over not immediately finding a job, I began performing average Honduran jobs to entertain myself (and as research for my future Presidential campaign). These are the type of jobs that most of the Honduran population depends on. In El Porvenir, it was herding cows. In Tela, it was selling coconuts on the beach.

Tela doesn't offer many options for entertainment, a bar and the beach sums up the options. Tela is nice... To visit, not live in. It's a beautiful place with marvelous people. I just didn't fit into the little town setting. maybe for retirement, but not at this age. When going to the beach, we always headed to Telamar because that's the only strip of beach in Tela where you don't have to worry about your belongings while you're in the water. If you sit at the Telamar beach, it's only a matter of minutes before a Garifuna comes by to offer you a fresh coconut or coconut bread or coconut tablets. After becoming a "regular" customer of the coconut products, I began befriending these guys. Most of them are trilingual, speaking Spanish, English and Garifuna. I began a language exchange with two of them, Garifuna for English words. All I remember is "uduruh weity" - big fish, "duna" - water, "idibilla" - waddup, and "tanki" - thank you. During one of our conversations, I inquired about their food; they mentioned machuca, guifiti, and cassabe (obviously the coconut bread and tabletas). I was intrigued by this "cassabe," a cassava (yuca) based hard bread (like a crispy tortilla or toasted pita bread). I love fried yucca, so I had to taste this.

I went to San Juan on a mission: to find Cassabe and an adventure. I only knew the direction to San Juan, no other reference. I hoped on the chicken bus heading to Tornabe. As I boarded the bus, my eyes immediately scanned the passengers in search for an empty seat next to an old lady to direct me (you have to trust old ladies right? Just hope they're not senile!). No luck. I took a seat next to a mean looking Garifuna wearing a tilted baseball cap and a muscle shirt, showing tattoos that were difficult to make out, due to the quality and his dark complexion. You know, the type of guy you want to call "Debo". As I approached the seat, I extended my right fist in his direction; he met it with his in mid air and proceeded to bring it against his chest. I wasn't "down" with the greetings yet, so my reaction was a little delayed. We proceeded to chat and upon request, he told me where to get off the bus and pointed out places to ask for Cassabe. This made me think of all the times I mislead people on L.A. public transportation system. My bad...

I got off the bus and immediately felt out of place. I had to take off my shirt to fit in a little better. I don't know why, but that's what I felt and did. My search wasn't well timed as yucca crops were only beginning to grow. Even though it was scarce, everyone I asked told me they would do everything within their power to land some for me. I was extremely disappointed; I was to return home empty handed. No Cassabe and no adventure. On the walk back to the bus stop (the road), I bumped into one of the guys that sells coconuts on the beach, Noel. He was shocked to see me there. I explained about my search. He responded with guilt about not having told me that it was hard to find at that time. He refused to accept that it was nothing to worry about, and asked if I'd eaten lunch. Before I could finish telling him that I was heading home for that, he insisted on me joining his family for lunch. "My woman and grandmother are cooking now", he added. I found it impossible to reject the offer and begrudgingly accepted. The fish was being fried over a clay stove outside their palm tree hut - by palm tree hut, I mean palm tree hut... It was delicious! I'm glad I didn't turn that offer down.

After lunch, Noel invited me to the San Juan radio station, Radio Durugubuty. "That's my other job", he said, "I'm the programming director." We walked into the radio station blasting Punta and Reggae. It was a small, hot, muggy, cement room with equipment from 1895 (kudos if you know the reference). He stood over the Darma Initiative controls with a huge grin and said, "Watch this!". He muted the speakers within the station, so only the radios from the surrounding homes could be heard. The surrounding homes were blasting Radio Durugubuty's signal. That moment filled me with excitement, I could only respond with, "DAYYYUUUM!!!"

I decided to head home as the sun was about to set and I thought Rosa may be worried about me. Before leaving I asked if I could help sell coconuts one day. A bewildered look came over his face. "Serious?", he asked. "Of course", I replied. He told me to meet him there the following morning at 7 A.M. if in fact I was serious. It was on and poppin!

The next day I arrived in San Juan eager for the adventure that awaited. I met up with Noel and his friends. The first thing that came out of my mouth was, "Where do we buy the coconuts?" Everyone erupted in laughter. One guy asked Noel, "Where did you get this guy?!?!?!" "Can you imagine how poor we would be if we had to buy coconuts? We go GET coconuts." They explained that the owners of the nice homes in between Tela and San Juan pay them to bring down the coconuts ( to prevent roof damage when they fall on their own) and let them keep them. They also bring them down from coconut palms around San Juan and when the free supply doesn't meet the demand... Let's just say they get coconuts one way or the other. This meant that we would be climbing palm trees and bringing them down ourselves. I couldn't even get both feet on the trunk of the palm, so I was eliminated from that portion of the day. I was demoted to the guy that puts the coconuts in the sacks, a job that is usually delegated to the youngest of the group. It's a cut throat industry, and you have to start somewhere.

We finally filled a sack for each of us. My next question was, "Will we have to pay double for taking the sacks on the bus?" Again... Everyone cracks up, falling over each other in support as if their legs had been weakened by the laughter. "Can you believe this guy?" Noel, fighting back the laughter explained that we will be walking to Tela. I thought to myself "Phack mein!"

By the time the laughter subsided, it was after 9 A.M. and the sun was already beaming over the beautiful beaches of Honduras' north coast. I began smoldering before we even left San Juan. During the walk, I was forced to alternate the weight of the coconuts on both shoulders because the sack was beginning to irritate my already sun-burnt skin. The guys taught me Garifuna chants that we marched to. They had the same rhythm as the ARMY chants in movies, but the words were Garifuna proverbs passed down by their version of Griots. I was exhausted and cotton mouthed by the time we reached Telamar. I had to sit out for a bit, the guys got right to work. When I finally got back on my feet, I discovered how difficult it is to pitch coconuts in a 100 yard strip of beach while competing against a half dozen other coconut vendors.

People must not have been thirsty that day. It took a long time before I had my first sale. After hours of foiled attempts, an elderly Canadian couple finally gave in. I called for Noel's machete (I didn't have one), he rushed over with excitement and handed it over. I took one whack at the coconut, nothing. I took a second whack and the machete bounced off. Noel requested the machete and said "we don't want you to cut off your hand". He effortlessly used the machete to slice through the coconut husk. I stood on the sidelines and claimed to have softened it up already. I think that by this time, it had become obvious to the Canadians that this wasn't my day job.

Without stating it, we agreed that I would stay away from the machete like I stayed away from cow nipples. I was demoted once again. Since there wasn't a basement floor in this company, I had to create my own position. I turned into the "hype man" like the guy on the Lopez Tonight show. I began shouting out sales slogans for delicious and refreshing coconut water. All the colleagues were laughing and looking at me like I was crazy. It actually worked though. Some people actually walked towards us and bought the coconuts. I don't think it would have worked well if I didn't speak English.

I couldn't possibly take any of the earnings, but I did walk away with an amazing experience and new friendships.

After my "A Day in the life of a Honduran" experiences, I've developed endless respect for the people in Honduras that have to overcome similar circumstances for daily survival (as in what you make that day determines what you eat that day). Selling coconuts to tourists is a "regular job" for some people. Employment opportunities are scarce in Honduras, especially if you are from one of the geographically (and maybe racially) isolated communities.

Our strength as a nation will always be determined by our weakest links. The first and most obvious need of attention in these communities are the roads to and from more developed areas. Without access to schools, health care, employment and food, for all our citizens, we can't expect growth as a nation. I hope they get some "Cambio YA!"

Christmas Traditions - Nacimientos, AND the white version; Winter Wonderland

Returning Catracho Report images

"Nacimientos" (Nativity Scenes) are a big deal in Latino families, the ones that aren't Pentecostals anyway. Growing up Pentecostal meant that Christmas celebrations consisted of prayer and worship vigils until 2 A.M., if the holy spirit chilled for longer, the vigils could run until 5 or 6 in the morning!!! We didn't have Nativity Scenes or Santa Clause, that's Idolatry. Pentecostals don't get down like that. Asking for a present from Santa Claus gets you 2 hours of kneeling over rice or a beating with an electrical cord. "Which do you want? Tell me know or you get both!" I think being frugal and a disciplinarian are requirements for the Pentecostal sect. I do recall a Christmas tree and gifts a few years, ironically that time coincides with my step father's... uhhhh... most lucrative venture, but that's another blog.

Nativity Scenes can be spotted all over L.A., but never realized that people obsess over these toy figurine landscapes. My first bit of insight to this craze was Christmas time at the suegros' (to be), I wasn't aware of the tradition at that time. Rosa's mom had a ridiculously expensive baby Jesus and the remains of three other broken and equally expensive babies she refused to part with. I thought of it as a weird collector's item like, Faberge eggs. What is up with those eggs, I wonder. It wasn't until Christmas 09 that I realized how crazy these nativity scenes really get. I was in Honduras in 2008 and completely missed the Nacimientos that year!!! Makes me wonder what else I've missed out on...? This is "connecting with your roots," folks! This seems like a cool tradition for my family, or maybe I'll just convert every December and not have to buy anyone presents.

This is way more than a Nativity Scene, this is Bethlehem... Or Tegucigalpa back in the day

Ladies making Baleadas and cooking on "Barriles", a lady bleeding a pig, clowns, a wedding and quincianera in the same place!!!


A cow (I think) being slaughtered, soon to be decapitated chickens on a table, clowns, a bunch of Chiquita Banana ladies, Baleadas and Barriles

They even made a cemetery.

This is the Gringo version... It even photographs better!

When I saw this I immediately noticed two things; 1.) Everyone is participating in recreational activities, not working. 2.) No JESUS!


Everyone seems so much happier in this setting. The only people without a smile on their face are the chubby guy in shock over the light post not having an energy saving bulb and the clown that made it over from the Honduran Nativity Scene.

Food Review: Mariela's Taco - Los Angeles, CA

View Marielas in a larger map

I had to do a review to make up for the "You know you live in the ghetto when..." post!

I have to begin by clearly stating that I'm not a food critic, or even have refined taste. It wasn't until a few years back that the creamy, delectable garbanzo substance that is hummus stopped tasting like vomit to me.

Mariela's Taco serve's the best Mexican Food in L.A. (outside of Rosa's family of course). I don't mean "Mexican" food like La Salsa or Baja Fresh, I'm talking about Quincianera style Mexican food. No Mango salsa here.

As you walk in you are bombarded with all the colors, I'm not referring to the dozens and dozens of "Jesus Loves You" stickers, I'm referring to the colors of an authentic Latino kitchen creating an image similar to a Diego Rivera piece. The Mariela's staff works in a Jackson Pollack nature as some frantically peel and dice veggies, cook and chop the meats you love and the ones you should probably eat before learning what they really are, stir beans, soups, and natural drinks like horchata with immense ladles while others use smooth deliberate movements to fold burritos (an art not yet mastered in Honduras), dollop the perfect amount of salsa on tacos or sprinkle cilantro on your plate as the finishing touch. The staff has ample opportunity to display their talents in the artistic assembly line with the countless other Mexican staples that are on display behind a glass barrier for everyone to gawk at. Whatever you want, they've got, from sopes to sopa marinera, it's all there.


Visible cooking and preparation areas are almost mandatory for me while eating out. I like to think of myself as picky, my fiancee Rosa would call it more along the lines of fastidious or capricious. In the end, I let my personal experience working in food service (once and never more!) create my irks and quirks with where I eat (Although that's changed drastically since living in Honduras). Ever since working at a cafe / sandwich restaurant I've become paranoid about who serves me. I need to be able to see my food, more kudos if I can see it being cooked too! I'm also real picky about the people that serve me. I love the service at Marielas, the people there are nice and more patient that the people on the other side of the glass. The worst food service employees are disgruntled white people, you can't get any nastier than them. Where I come from playing with peoples food, money and women can get you killed. We don't play around like that. I'm traumatized over my experience. I always had a bad feeling about eating at places like the Cheesecake Factory or P.F. Chang's (although I love Chang's!) because they have too many white people in waiting positions. I used to always be concerned about whether the white boy serving me just had a bad audition or if he's mad at his parents for grounding him at the age of 25. Rosa finally set me straight when she pointed out that I can't be that picky while going everywhere in basketball shorts and sandals.

Mariela's is so good that the local gangs have agreed on designating rotating days they can visit to avoid conflict while waiting for an order. I've seen people take advantage of fights breaking out by running to the front of the line while everyone else scrambles in fear of the possible presence of firearms. This is the only time I've seen a Latino try to act like he was already within the scene of a crime just so he can get in there and order. This place is so bomb that if any of your neighbors saw you come home with a white paper bag turning transparent to reveal Mexican food wrapped in yellow, you could expect dirty looks... for days. If you plan on walking back home with some Mariela's, you inevitably have to buy extra tacos in case you run into a cholo or friend on the way home or get caught sneaking into your apartment building - take the stairs, ditch the elevator.

Cholo: (appears out of nowhere) "Ey whatchu got in that bag ese?"

Me: (startled looking around for possible hiding places) "Damn Fuzzy?!?!? Where the fuck did you just jump out off? Were you in the tree?

Cholo: "Don't ac estupid, whatchu got in the bag?"

Me: "I went to get some Mariela's for my moms man, she's real sick dude. Coughing and hurting all over. I gotta get back quick!"

Cholo: (not buying it and creeping closer and closer to me) "Oh you went to Mariela's and you didn't call me huh? I see how it is. Why you always gotta act like you don't know nobody?"

Me: "Don't even trip foo! You know I got you a taco homie"

Cholo: "Dispensa little homie, dispensa. Why didn't you say something earlier? I was about to fuck you up ey."

Me (mumbling as I walk away): "You're welcome asshole. Who the fuck does this guy think he is "DEBO"? That dude needs to get shot or something!"

after about 10 paces I stop, turn around to face fuzzy while crossing my hands and connecting them at the thumbs to mimic a butterfly flapping it's wing.

I shout: "Hey Fuzzy! Mariposa St. Gang FORRRRREVERRRRRRRRR HOMMMMEEES!"

I turn back around and sprint home at full speed hoping I can get there before he catches up to me.

Mariposa St. is the street I lived on, I used to tell the gangsters that hung out on my block that was the name of their gang too.

OTHER NOTES:
Call you order in! This will cut the wait time. If you choose to do this, make sure you make yourself recognizable because some people have called with prank orders. You have to stand out like Thurgood Jenkins in a bodega. I used to always call and pretend to be a Korean. If you don't do this, they will only write your order down and wait for you to arrive and ask for it before they begin putting it together.

Mariela's taco is easily accessible by various forms of transportation; two DASH Routes (one isn't listed , two MTA Routes, 5 - 10 minutes from the 10 and 101 freeways, and downhill in almost every direction allowing you to easily cruise there on a skateboard.

The green sauce is the bomb!!! I used to take home extra to pour over my spinach omelets.

Here is a little back and forth between myself and a youtuber that did an inaccurate review on Mariela's Taco. I have to say that he sent a nice email to end this banter, good thing too because I can go on forever.

kalitoz1 (2 days ago) Show Hide
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Obviously poor taste in tacos. This is the best Mexican food in L.A.!!!! Gangs have to rotate days so they can visit this place. Reference, I grew up eating there. 213 even after 323
rdub520 (2 days ago) Show Hide
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What do you think is good about burnt and fatty pieces of meat? You saw the video--the carne was horrible. How is that poor taste??? That's reality son.
kalitoz1 (28 seconds ago) Show Hide
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They gave you all the stuff that falls between the grills. A white guy doing an unannounced review with a handycam is ok, but poking over the GLASS trying to see what they're doing is unacceptable. When someone within the neighborhood placed an order on the phone, you had to go ask everyone but the Koreans in your building if they wanted to order something too. Next time, get a glass of the best horchata in L.A. and chill out. Don't get on their bad side, they do the graff in the bathroom.

Other people's reviews:

Yelp Review
1. Why don't you take Credit Card?
2. Why am I waiting 20-30 minutes for 2 tacos and 1 burrito?
3. Why didn't I order more food? This shit is GOOD. Love that you add cilantro to your burritos.

Will be back soon, Marielas. :)

Digilounge.net
Overall, I can see why this place is crowded all the time. Bonus, it’s open till 2am on Friday and Saturday.

Yelp
This place is SO BOMB!! I usually get the carne asada tacos and burritos and man, I am in HEAVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's in a ghetto, little strip mall but it's usually safe. I mean, I'm a 5'4 Korean chick with no muscle, and I've always made it out alright ;)

This place reminds me of the taco places in the Mission district back in S.F. when my mom and I would go every weekend when I was a little girl...

I have settled for King Taco in LB nowadays, or Tacos Los Toritos in Canyon Country when I'm visiting my family... but Marielas... sigh. This place is the one in I hold dear to my heart.

Yelp
Mariela's carne asada burritos are probably one of my fav. foods.

They marinate the meat really well and they make the burritos pretty f'ing big.

I've been coming here for about 7 years and some times I crave it as if it's crack.

The only thing that could make it any better would be a carne asada burrito with some King Taco's hot sauce!

New Job!!! Moving to Roatan - Follow up

During April, eleven months after my arrival, I interviewed with one company and almost landed a job, but no dice...Still. Shortly after, I received a response to one of my posts requesting my resume, I sent it and scheduled a trip to Roatan for an interview. Once in Roatan, I interviewed and was asked to start ASAP. ASAP meant that day or the next, UNBELIEVEABLE! To me, this was like sinking a three point shot to win the game. No wait, to tie the game so I can demonstrate what I'm made of in overtime.

Overtime begins... aaaaaaaand my coach decides to sit me out. By "sit me out", I mean do anything to prevent me from completing my work. We have our differences like Artest being coached by Bobby Knight and... let's just say it didn't work out.

The game ends, I'm still on the bench, and my team loses. To make matters worse, I get released... as in fired. I got canned for the first time!!! Chet!

This place was so screwed up that I have to begin retelling some hilarious experiences I endured while working there (and living on Roatan.)

I now introduce: "Conversations in Honduraninan"

Employer: You speak Spanish right?

Los: Of course I do! I can read and write it (coming soon) too.

Employer: "Great! I need you to pretend like you don't. My employees don't like me and always talk about my wife and I. I want you to pretend like you don't speak Spanish and report what everyone is saying about us."

Los: Really? Are you joking right now?

Employer: I'm not joking, just do it. ok?

Los: ok...

Later that day I am escorted to my new office from where I was to fulfill my duties as "Accounting Manager". I am introduced and left with my new assistants to figure out to where to begin (as customary in Honduras, no direction is given because the employers don't know what the hell they are doing so they hope they can hire someone to tell them what they should be doing).

Within the first few minutes I am there, I'm asked:

Edith: "Carlos, usted habla Espanol?"

Los: "Claro que si" (thinking to myself: Dammit! I forgot that I wasn't supposed to speak Spanish.)

I should have guessed that this was not going to be a good fit for me...

Socks for Christmas - Don't do it

Nothing disappoints like unwrapping a bundle of socks for a Christmas or birthday present. If the only other option you have for a gift is a hug and kind words, go with that. If you give socks, expect the reaction to look like this:

This reaction will also precede an Alllen Iverson type rant: "Socks?!?! Socks!! I was born on this date and I get socks! Not even ankles socks, which I prefer, but tube socks?!?! Phack mein! I got socks. You know what Hassan got? A car! I get socks. Not even Hanes socks, these are the socks you get from the callejones in Downtown L.A.!! I'm talking about Socks..."

My mother raised me as a single mother for many years. I know we didn't have much money for gifts and celebrations, but socks? I would have been satisfied with a burrito from Marielas. I'm Honduran, but I don't even play soccer. Why do I need these socks? Sometimes it was socks and more, but some years it was just socks. One of the most depressing childhood memories is unwrapping what I believed was a shoe box containing a new pair of shoes. Why would I think anything to the contrary? As I began unwrapping the gift, my mother calmly (cough, cough) reminds me to be careful so she can reuse the wrapper, "Si rompes el papel te quito el regalo". I noticed this was one of my old shoe boxes and thought she got the shoes downtown or something. That's cool, I don't mind shoes from downtown. I was so surprised I even folded the wrapping paper back up for her. I removed the top portion of the box and there they were; a bundle of tube socks.

Not even a bag of tube socks like Kmart sells, just a bunch of socks bundled together by a string. I should have torn the wrapping paper.

Life is funny though. This year my father offered me a "professional style" camera, I requested socks instead. I don't want to walk around with a big bulky camera, and I need socks.

You know you live in the ghetto when...

The bathroom at your favorite restaurant looks like this...






WATCH THE REVIEW HERE - This guy has poor taste in food though

You know you live in the ghetto when... - Los Angeles edition

Ice Cream trucks play Hip Hop

Your neighborhood is highlighted in red on the map at Domino's and Pizza Hut.

You can't wear a certain color.

Fliers advertising "TEEN JOBS - MAKE UP TO $50" are posted on every block.

Every block has a vending machine that dispenses a gallon of water for twenty five cents (quarter water)

You can make regular appearances on the news by running out to places nearby where they are reporting from live.

Someone comes around selling "raspados", identified by the ringing bells.

You have an abandoned building on your block.

Someone comes around and yells "Eloooooooooooooooteeeeeeeeeeeeeeees" or "Taaaaaaaaaammmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaleeeeeeeees".

A produce truck comes around and honks like you're in a third world country.

Stop signs have bullet holes on them

Stop signs read Cant STOP _______ enter name of local gang here
(I used to call the gangsters that hung out on my street the Mariposa St. gang)



You have two or more $1 Chinese food places within a 10 minute walk.

You have two or more doughnut shops within a 10 minute walk.

You have two or more 99 cent stores within a 10 minute walk.

You have two or more pawn shops within a 10 minute walk.

You have two or more laundromats within a 10 minute walk.

You can't walk 5 blocks without crossing a liquor store.

You hear police sirens at least once a week.

You hear police helicopters at least one a week.

People walk around with tattooed tears.

The local landmarks commemorate acts of violence. "That's were the Korean business owners pulled out AK's and oozies to defend their businesses during the riots." "That's where Robert Kennedy was assassinated.", "That's were the cops killed the crack head"

You know people by names like Spooky, Shorty, Snoopy, Tiny, (note to gangsters: If your name ends with a "Y", you probably need to change your name to something more intimidating.

Apartment buildings show a trace of bullets left behind by a drive by

You have a "neighborhood crackhead bum"

The "neighborhood crackhead bum" is always trying to sell you a car stereo that looks like it was just ripped out of a car

Shoes dangle from electrical wires.

Everyone greets each other by raising their chin.

Raising your chin can also be confused with an insult.

To vote or not to vote? - The Questions

Voting is not only a right, but also a responsibility. I recognize that this is the most important Honduran presidential election of my lifetime. I know all the cliches (even the one about THE MOST IMPORTANT ELECTION IN YOUR LIFETIME) that the media tosses around every four years; every vote counts, if you don't vote someone else does it for you (that literally happens in Honduras), make your voice heard, change the nation, yadda yadda yadda. I've even received death threats from Diddy trying to force me to vote with his "Vote or Die" campaign. I bet you didn't know he owns a machete.


Trust me, I know the importance of voting in the elections. The "concept" of voting isn't what causes me to ruminate over my participation or abscence. It's the brutal and inevitable realities we will face after the elections, regardless of who is seated, that makes me not want to vote.


Will our health system improve?
NO! People will continue to die from deseases that are preventable and treatable in other countries. The best we can hope for is more Cuban doctors and health care missionaries from the States.

Will our living conditions improve?
NO! Hondurans will continue to live in the same uninhabitable "homes" that annually get swept away or damaged by flash flooding, rain, or earthquakes.

What about better public services?
Keep dreaming! Honduras will never see the day when potable water pours out of faucets. We will continue to only have access to water contaminated with pathogens and chemical run off, therefore fattening the pockets of the people who own Aguazul. What about the electricity? Let's just say you better not have a fridge full of food because you may be forced to sponsor a neighborhood barbecue when lights go off for more than 12 hours.

Will crime be reduced?
NO! If in the future, someone claims it has been reduced, then it's just being reported inaccurately. Crime will not be reduced because Honduran's will continue to live under the same desperate circumstances. i.e. I have a family, I don't have a source of income (and if I do, it probably doesn't pay enough), I don't have any help from my country = I need to jack someone and come up (for a day) so I can feed these guirros.

Will more employment be created?
I think we'll see a small growth in that sector, but solely because vulture (sorry, I meant to say venture) capitalists are probably drooling over Honduras like stock investors do when they see a giant like Nike or Pfizer temporarily drop in price. They know those stocks are going to bounce back, but they try to anticipate the lowest point they will drop to before investing in those stocks to maximize profit. That doesn't mean we'll see better working conditions though. The only reason why we see these multinational companies here is because our leaders guarantee a "low cost of labor". In other words, we'll continue to be expected to work for less money and in worse conditions than they would ever think of offering their own.

What about the economic state?
Thank G-d for credit!!! I would not be shocked to see the minimum wage reduced, or the Lempira loosing value against the Dollar, thus reducing the minimun wage. If the Lempira looses value against the Dollar, the Lempira price will increase on anything except labor. i.e. When the lempira goes to 25 (guessing) to $1, a 20 Lempira Baleada will go up to 25 lps (WE'RE CONSUMERS NOT PRODUCES, 90% OF ITEMS IN MARKETS COME FROM OTHER COUNTRIES, MOSTLY THE U.S.). Someone earning 5,500 lps ($291.08 @ current exchange 18.8951) as their monthly salary, will now earn 5,500 lps @ 25 = $220.00. That pay is pretty close to the minimum wage that was in place last year (3500 lps or $185.23 at 18.8951 ) .


What happens if you're not being represented by any of the candidates in contention?
Vote for the one that comes closest. NOT!!! Don't do that, I BEG YOU!!! You'll just be another sheep. Baaaaack up a little and think.

Are you trying to tell me not to vote Carlos?!?!
THAT IS NOT WHAT I'M SAYING.


Then what is the best approach?
I'm (annything I say beggining with "I'm" is probably not the best approach, but it's my blog so too bad) inclined to actually go to the polling centers and protesting against all parties and corrupt politicians. You still have to vote though, or else someone will use your ID number and name to vote for any candidate that pays them. I would prefer to cast my ballot with mustaches and eyeglasses drawn on the candidates, rather than being forced to vote for someone that will not have my best interest in mind. Or even worse, have these guys pay someone to vote on your behalf.

That doesn't create change though. How do we create "change"?
You have to demand it. We need to stop asking these politicians "What are you going to do for us?" and start saying "WE NEED YOU TO _________ FOR US!!!" Even better than demanding, start working towards what you want. If you think we need improvements in our educational system, start turoring kids in your neighborhood. If you want a better health system, start teaching kids about the risks of sex and disease prevention. If you're thinking that you don't know how to do that, you're crazy. You have the internet in front of you right now. I can't think of a better resource at our disposal. For instace, I don't know how to make sushi, but I can google it and tell you how in five minutes.



"Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." A guy from La Colonia Kennedy.

Yahoo Groups - La Migra

Although this blog entry is labeled "Honduras Living - The Yahoo Group", this post isn't about Honduras Living. It's about another Honduran related Yahoo group. One that doesn't (how do I say this without offending people?) . Judging by the fact that I was temporarily blocked from it for posting my opinions about foreigners and their employers abusing the Honduran labor laws in the tourism industry, they don't like me or my point of view much either. I have met cool people that frequently contribute to that group, but it is the right wing polar opposite to HL. The following set of posting are about the "migra", in Honduras, raiding an area dominated by foreigners and dive shops. The thread started with people looking to confirm or inquire about the raid.
The thread took a wrong turn when I responded to:
"Let's not forget that there are 500,000 illegal Hondurans living and working
in the US and double that in Mexico, Guatemala and El Salvador."

with:
Let's not forget that those Hondurans working in the counties you mentioned get
paid peanuts for work no one else will do, while all the foreign dive
instructors are here doing something they love and getting paid well for it. So
illegals in the States sing slave songs, while illegals in Honduras whistle
while they work.

Does this qualify as culture shock? I never imagined I'd hear about N. Americans
and Europeans hiding from raids. This is hilarious to me, to a certain degree.
My personal opinion is that immigration is a human right, but you have to adhere
to laws no matter what.

This was funny to me because when I left L.A., "La Migra" and police were raiding Latin communities and businesses to weed out the illegals. In the process of doing so, they were beating and harassing even US born Latinos. Old ladies, handicapped, they were all complaining about the unnecessary force used during those raids. I didn't hear any similar complaints from the Gringos "harassed" in that town. If those same cops were raiding Honduran criminals, someone would have shed blood for sure. So don't whine next Semana Santa.

Obviously offended, the same guy responded with:
Let's not forget that any Honduran can walk into any dive shop in Roatan or
Utila and get their certification to become a PADI Instructor for FREE, but
99.99% of them cannot pass the written exam sections of the PADI course.

I wanted to tell him that if businesses like his actually paid taxes like they are supposed to instead of keeping two sets of books, one to tell him what his business is actually doing and one to tell Tio Sam only what he thinks he should know, our educational system may not be doing so poorly. That would have resulted in a childish volley of jabs so I ignored it, but it did sting having him insult 99.99% of Hondurans like that. His statement is completely false. I think maybe one dive shop actually sponsors people for free. I'm considering doing a bookkeeping trade for certification, and that still doesn't cover the entire cost. Dive shops aren't exactly comfortable places to be in if you're a Spaniard (the Honduran kind). As soon as you walk in all the people there pause, stare, then proceed to slowly gather their cigarettes, cell phones, wallets and other personal belongings they are usually comfortable littering around a dive shop setting.

Becoming a dive instructor is officially on my list of immediate goals. I overcame my fear of swimming and now I hope to work illegally in other countries! As another group member posted in the same thread:
"there is NO better job then a PADI instructor! especially on a caribbean island."
Why wouldn't I want to do that myself? Because then I'll only eat beans and rice for a while. Hmmmmmmm?!?!?!

I did get a job offer from the following request in that thread, but that person's last name is Gonzales, so no points for that group.
Can you send me your resume off group please
Resort Manager

This group isn't all bad, just mostly.

Gringos

Gringos hanging at Klein Bohemia in SPS - returning Catracho Report image

"I resent you people using that word! That's our word for making fun of you! We NEED it!" - Homer Simpson

Someone should have taken a stand long ago, this has gone too far. I'm taking it back. It's origins aren't even clear to me, but I want it anyway. I'd also like to clarify to all Canadians, Europeans, and yes - Australians that you are Gringos too. Even Asians when considering people from Israel, Russia, Armenia, and Turkey. Argentinians, Spaniards (the real ones, not the "Mainlanders"), you're also in the club. Sorry, I have to do it. It would not be fair to the Asian Gringos for you to be excluded from the label.

No one is certain of it's origin or exact definition. I've read countless possible references connecting the initial use of the word to Irish for wearing green uniforms while fighting in the Mexican America War, American soldiers singing a song with the words "Green" and "Grow" in the title, and even claims that the phrase "That's Greek to me!" gave roots to the term.

The use of the word isn't supposed to be humorous to you, you've taken all the fun out of it. It's supposed to be a racial connotation. Play fair! This word has been irresponsibly tossed around for long enough!

La Gringa: You get a Gringo Card, so you can keep the name.

Revision: I have to add that Gringo is not the same as the term "Yankee", Gringo is a milder offense.

Photo used by permission La Gringa's Blogicito

Shout out to Honduras_Living

"Honduras Living is an unbiased (noncommercial) forum where people can find up to date information about immigrating to Honduras, residency procedures, hotels, restaurants, sites to visit, experiences, crime/safety, places to avoid, and life in Honduras in general. Additionally, the group's files and links sections will be very helpful to anyone wishing to learn more about living in Honduras." I had writer's block trying to express how helpful and informative HL is so I copied that from the welcome message on the group's homepage. Most of the members are originating from N. America or a few European and South Americans countries. The Honduran members seem to have lived outside of the country part of their lives. If this group were a tangible place on earth, it would be your favorite bar.

This group has helped my fiancee and I with the move to Honduras in numerous ways. We've posted countless inquiries that we wouldn't know where else to impose. This group has proved to be the most reliable source for accurate information in comparison to a consulate or embassy in the U.S. or locally. Members post about their hardships and remind you that it can always get worse, they also share the highlights of their lives here and remind you that Honduras is filled with beauty despite being one of the poorest countries in the Americas. The archives provide an extensive library of previous threads that may answer any of your Honduran born curiosities. You'll find cooking recipies, gardening tips, legal info, twitter like news updates, restaurant and hotel reviews and tons more. My only other sources for info before HL were this link to Canal 6's live streaming http://www.noti6.com/ and my mother. I did eventually begin reading the national newspapers but they are filled with inaccuracies. The latter wasn't so helpful considering she'd been back to Honduras in nearly 23 years and the former scared the life out of me with daily reports of kidnappings and violent crimes. This group is also well moderated to keep the folks in control and enable ease of browsing on terribly slow internet connections.

Since I don't contribute as much as I think I should, I've decided to give props with a label on my blog. I'll turn some of my HL posts into blog entries because I'm a lazy blogger like that. At some point, I'll also post some of my blogs in the group to give the Returning Catracho Report of things because I'm a lazy group member like that. I'm not really lazy, my HL post frequency is directly correlated to my work, no employment = lots of posts, employment = very little posts.

The first entry into this label will be a post questioning the cleaning and bathing procedures when you have doo doo water. I still don't know wxactly what was going on with the water, but named the condition after that came along with it. This incident occurred while residing on Tela, Atlantida. It's a nice place... To visit.

This is my post.
I thought I would just let the water run and it would clear up in a minute or two, but it's been nasty all day. Does this always happen after rainy days? How do people shower or wash clothes? Carlos M - Had to walk down the street for another 5 gallon


Response #1 It happens in a lot of places after a good rain. It can take 3-4 days to clear up. While it is like this you don't wash clothes and you either don't bathe or you get a large bottle of water and take a sponge bath. You can set up a rain barrel to catch clean water for hand washing some things. This is one of the trade-offs for living in paradise.

Response #2
I always imagined paradise haveing clean water.

Response #3
Or at least some water. We have none today. I knew I should have done the laundry yesterday. XX, at least the weather is paradisal today La Ceiba

This is what I meant about reminders that things can always get worse.

Response #4
Due to the rain, we went the entire month of October without running water. Wait thats a lie. They fixed the pipes once, on a Monday afternoon, (It had stopped raining for 2 or 3 days) and then Tuesday morning it began to rain again and we lost water by 9AM Tuesday morning. I think the entire month of October we had rain every day BUT those couple of days and a day or so at the beginning of the month. We didn't get running water back until November 3. At least I had a way to collect rain water for washing dishes and taking showers (ok bucket baths is probably a better term). The kids took showers in the rain, LOL. They loved it. The adventures of living in a 3rd world paradise, LOL.

Response #5
Build two pilas approx. chest high (as long as your over 5'5") first with a sloping bottom 4 feet at the bottom to 4 inches at the top (water level) go to a rocky stream and get 2" to 4" rocks with green slime on them. Keep them wet during transport. Put a drain in the bottom of the first pila for back flushing. Cruddy water goes into the deep end very slow (a diffuser would be nice) and Slowly moves to the shallow end through the rocks. Then into your second pila which is a slow sand bio-filter. then to your cistern. during really bad water times may need to clean the slow sand filter a couple of times a week but you will get water that is very low in turbidity...

Response #6 A simple little 5 micron filter takes care of that. It will be overwhelmed, then when the rain stops you change the filter the next day and it starts doing the job. Tela usually cuts off the water supply when it overflows the cistern filters on the mountain. When the water goes off, I usually cut all water to my house and leave the tap on for the garden (which is pre-filter) until I see it is working. When the brown gets to just a dirty tan, I start it back to the house. Usually no more than half a day without water.