USA Election from Honduras

     On Tuesday, Barack Obama won reelection and will remain the 44th President of the United States. His victory is good for the country: as a result, 45 million more Americans will obtain health insurance because Obamacare will not be repealed. The Affordable Care Act will make Americans healthier,  more financially secure, and extend life expectancy. It will also end America's ignominious stand as the only developed country not to provide basic insurance to all of its citizens. The Dodd-Frank financial reform act will remain law, and Mitt Romney will not have the opportunity to cut programs for the poor. Unlike in Obama's first term, there will probably be no signature legislation over the next four years because of the do-nothing House. Obama now has leverage on the fiscal cliff issue, and it is likely top marginal tax rates will rise on the rich. With the economy still weak, it is not the ideal time to raise tax rates. But the politics of the situation demand Obama allow the rates to go up: he simply will not have another opportunity to improve the country's long term fiscal outlook due to Republican obstructionism. The payroll tax cut enacted by Obama should be extended, however. If they rise at the end of the year, the country may well fall back into recession. At the very least, growth will be stunted by falling consumer spending.

I did vote in this election, but the absentee ballot process is a pain. I voted in my home state of Maryland during the 2008 Democratic primary (bucking the trend of young people I voted for Hillary). I voted in North Carolina in the general election because it was a swing state, and in 2010 I was studying abroad in Spain. I sent in an absentee ballot, as I did this year. You have to have your ballot mailed to you; a backwards policy for a digitized world. At the very least, it could be faxed. In Honduras, which has a pretty nonexistent postal system (people don't have addresses), this is especially difficult. But I am proud to say I voted for Barack Obama and affirmed my support for marriage equality.

Though the economy is probably the most important to me, here in Honduras the central issue is immigration. Everyone here knows someone in the United States, and most people have family in the states. Though many Hondurans were unaware of American political happenings, those who were informed about the election were primarily concerned with immigration. They all understood that Obama was the candidate more friendly to Hispanics, and largely supported him for this reason. Though few had strong opinions on economic issues, most people here are socially conservative by American standards. Gay marriage is anathema here, and abortion is illegal and generally considered immoral.

Indeed, there has been a lot of talk in the conservative media about the need to attract more Hispanic voters. A number of prominent conservatives have already suggested that the party soften it up its stance on immigration to woo more Hispanic voters. Ronald Reagan famously said, "Hispanics are Republicans, they just don't know it yet." This isn't necessarily true- Hispanics tend to support big government- but it is absolutely the case that a softer stance on immigration could yield more Hispanic votes. In Texas, where Republicans politicians take a softer stance on immigration, Mitt Romney did better. George Bush, who was to the left of his party on immigration, won more than 40% of the Hispanic vote in 2004; Mitt Romney only garnered 27%.  This pretty clearly suggests if Republicans toned down the nativist language and softened their harsh policies, that they could curry more favor with Hispanic voters.

The United States would be a better place if Republicans jumped on board comprehensive immigration reform. Workers already in the country should have a pathway to citizenship, and America must do a better job encouraging highly skilled entrepreneurial types who are choosing other destinations likes Canada and Chile because their immigration laws are more friendly.

But for the moment, Hispanic voters made the right choice. Barack Obama has his flaws, but he is the right man with the right policies for the job.

Honduras: A Lost Opportunity

This week the Honduran Supreme Court struck down the country's proposal to build several "model cities" throughout the nation. These model cities would have their own tax and justice systems, and generally be a new start for several of the countries poorest regions. The plan for the model cities passed the Honduran legislature and was signed by the country's president Porfirio Lobo in December 2011. American investors were ready to spend $15 million on necessary infrastructure projects, and foreign investors were lining up to build factories and call centers. The cancellation of the project, assuming there is no way around the court decision, is a tragedy.

Indeed, many Hondurans oppose the model city on ground that it takes away their sovereignty as a nation. This is understandable: the model cities would have their own economic and legal systems, and even be able to make free trade pacts and control their own immigration laws. Nor would the cities be democratic initially: a transparency commission consisting mostly of foreigners would appoint governors and eventually decide when the cities were ready to transition to a democratic system. Would be members included renowned American economists George Akerlof and Paul Romer, as well as several other thoroughly vetted think tank types. The cities would be as autonomous as possible, something like a Hong Kong for Honduras. 

There is certainly a whiff of imperialism to the the whole idea, and most backlash against the project has come along these lines. Essentially, rich world types are entering a poor Central American country and saying "Hey, you guys are fucking this up. Let us run your country for you."Land would be taken from local people, including the long marginalized Garrifuna (black Hondurans), and handed over to the model city commissioners. These planners may see these growth centers as a utopian island in a sea of crime and corruption, but many Hondurans only smell condescension and belittlement.

But there is a but. Honduras is the most violent country in the world, and one of the poorest nations in the Western Hemisphere. Foreign companies do not invest heavily for security reasons and because of an unreliable investment climate. Domestic businesses are terrible, and the government sector is too corrupt to fix anything. An astounding portion of Honduran women become pregnant in their teens, and a tragic percentage of Honduran men become alcoholics. The education system, an absolutely critical component of long term growth and human happiness, is abysmal. All of this gets us to our but: opportunity costs. If Honduras was doing great, a risky proposal might be worth rejecting. But in the current state of the country, where institutions are failing left and right, model cities are definitely worth a shot.

And these cities are more than a shot in the dark: they have been well thought out and could have a tremendous impact. Model cities will bring jobs, increase income, lower crime and violence, and wipe away obvious corruption. The model cities will not become the next Silicon Valley overnight, workers will still be largely uneducated and low-skilled. There should be more focus on education in the cities, and business regulation will need to be especially strong in an environment where companies feel they are running the show. That said, it's still critical to have foreign investment. If corporations are investing in these cities, then their are more jobs. If there are more jobs, than people have more money to spend and the government recoups more in tax receipts. Education, security, and infrastructure will all improve because of the greater revenues from the humming economy. Foreign investment is not a panacea, but it can and would start a virtuous cycle. Hondurans, who often emigrate to the United States for money and work, could stay in their own country. The model cities would be safer, richer, and happier. Life would be better.

But alas, it seems this is not to be. I am not an expert on Honduran Constitutional Law, so I don't know if the court's reading of the country's legal documents was correct. But I am confident that their decision will be viewed as a mistake by historians of the future. In a country with few jobs but a surplus of crime, cities with new economic and legal policies could have have had a remarkable impact. Instead, Honduras will stick to its status quo, which has brought pain and unhappiness to so many good people. 

Power Outages

It rains a lot in Honduras. Not cold, harsh, uncomfortable rain, but rain nonetheless. Considering how hot it is, the rain can be a cool refresher after another 90 degree day. Indeed, the best times of the day are those before and after it rains. The calm before the storm is the time to be outside (where I live) in Honduras.

But the rain also brings something very, very unpleasant. This relentless malfeasance is dark, frustrating, boring, and potentially scary. It is, as any reader astute to enough to read the title knows, is the power outage. Let me tell you how much power outages suck: a fucking lot.

In the U.S., power outages are not particularly fun, but they are certainly bearable. Losing internet is rough, but I can watch tv show’s on my computer until its battery is dead. I can play games on my iPhone, and normally I can read. If the power is gone for a significant amount of time, I can drive somewhere to take a shit or recharge my electronics.

 In Honduras, power outages are far less fun and far more common. Watching DVD’s is sometimes an option, but often the rain is pounding so hard on my highly questionable tin roof that I can’t hear a word emerging from the speakers on maximum volume. I don’t have an iPhone in Honduras because of roaming charges, instead I have a cheap piece of shit with one game and no internet on it. Reading is the best option, but if it is after 6pm then you will be using a flashlight and squinting to see the words. People don’t go outside if its raining or if its dark; if its raining because it is uncomfortable, if its dark because its unsafe. Without power, I can’t skype my family or friends, watch television, check my fantasy team, or make copies of important papers for my students.

Still, these outages would be bearable if they were uncommon. But they show up about as much as a football game on television. A near certainty on Saturday and Sunday, and a likelihood at least a couple of days a week. A significant number of the weekend power outages are planned; the Honduran government remains incapable of producing a fully functional power grid.  Small towns and rural areas lose power more often than Tegucigalpa or San Pedro: city dwellers are more politically connected.

The overall point here is that power outages are 1. common, and 2. suck. Hondurans are used to them, but I don't think I ever will be. 

The Mosquito Coast

Upon deciding to spend a year in Honduras, I thought it wise to read up on the place. This has mainly involved reading Honduran related news, but has also included a helpful dose of historical scholarship on my host nation. Most of my reading, from both the journalists and academics, has been highly pessimistic. Honduras, despite its sunny weather, has an unfortunate history that has left a legacy of crime that dominates the headlines today.

Satisfied with my new knowledge of Honduras if unexcited about its bleak content, I turned to reading a novel set in Honduras.  Now I was not sure that this would exist, but one noteworthy piece of fiction stood out from the pack. The Mosquito Coast, by Paul Theroux, fulfilled my minimalist requirements of being an English-language novel set in Honduras, but also stood out for a couple of reasons. First, Theroux is a fairly acclaimed writer who has written a number of best-selling travel memoirs. Second, he comes from a family of writers, and is the uncle to Justin Theroux, who starred in Mulholland Drive and wrote Tropical Thunder and Iron Man 2. The younger Theroux is also dating Jennifer Anniston. I obviously deduced from this that anyone cool enough to have a nephew who picked up Brad Pitt’s sloppy seconds must be a good novelist. But then I, um, read the book.

The Mosquito Coast, to my initial concern, began in Massachusetts, before transitioning to Baltimore, a cargo ship, and finally Honduras. The novel, despite Theroux’s background as a travel writer is not about any one of these places. There are plenty of details about Honduras which immediately stuck out to me though; the terrible condition of the dogs in the country, the ubiquity of bananas and other cheap fruit, and of course the ever-present and always thirsty mosquitos scavenging for their next meal.

The focus of the book is the father-son relationship at its corps. Charlie, our narrator, is a perceptive 13 -year old boy. Like most kids his age, he is embarrassed and proud of his father. In comparison to other American teenagers, Charlie probably has more reason to feel this way. Charlie’s father is a genius inventor who knows everything. He can quickly rebut an agriculturalist on growing crops, or even challenge a preacher on scripture. When it comes to quirky inventions, no one top Charlie’s pa, called by his wife, Ally. But the man is also an eccentric, often rambling about politics or the end of America to innocuous observers.

The book is about Ally’s descent into madness. Or was he always crazy? He moves the family from its home in the United States to Honduras, where he brilliantly begins his own jungle civilization. But things go awry, and it seems that Ally’s mind follows. 

The Mosquito Coast is entertaining, but it falls far short of reaching the great novel plateau. The book’s largest problem stems from its central conflict: Ally’s fall from the reader’s grace. This could have been accomplished tragically (by emphasizing the impact it has on the family), hilariously (what’s funnier than insanity), or been suspenseful (will he get the family killed?). Theroux attempts all of these elements, but ultimately comes up short on all counts. The result is a readable novel, if not a particularly deep or funny one. 

Honduran Beers

I have taken a recent blogging hiatus for two reasons: 1. Teaching in 90 degree weather without air conditioning is tiring, and writing is less relaxing than sleeping, and 2. I have been sick/ having eye problems. Eye problems meaning one day I woke up and could not open my left eye. I still cannot see out of it, but at least it no longer hurts or looks overly red.

But now I return to tell you about Honduran beers. There are to be exact, four major beers. Not one, not two, not three, but count em' up and take it to the bank, four major Honduran beers. Going alphabetically, here is the rundown:

Bahrena: Its reputation is twofold: 1. the beach beer, and 2. the chick beer. But the thing you really need to know 3. is that Bahrena is terrible. Flavorless and tasteless, I really don't understand why Honduran women prefer this beer. OK, that's a lie. I think I know. They prefer it because the beer's silly marketing is effective and they feel like they should like it. But marketing does not a beer make. Nor does the validation of 20 year-old women in an unknown country in Central America actually make a beer good. So yeah, don't drink this.

Imperial: The reputation: a manly beer, for manly men, who do manly things with their strong, manly bodies. It is also bad. Tastes like Natty Light with twice as much as water. That said if you are going to hang out with a few Honduran bros, prepare to knock back a few of these guys.

Port Royal: The classy beer of Honduras. For better people. Might cost you a full two dollars in an upscale nightclub. Gasp! Don't worry its normally its less than $1.25. Other good news: Port Royal is a pretty drinkable beer. Kind of has the sense of a beer that knows its supposed to be finer and tastier than  its counterparts, but doesn't really know how to accomplish this. That said, the initial sweetness is nice and you can taste actual hops. Nice to enjoy on the beach or while watching soccer.

Salva Vida: The staple. The classic. You've just gotta have it. It's Salva Vida: the Honduran beer that's everywhere. Importantly, it also gave rise to the line, and rare Honduran pop culture reference,  "Yo no quiero agua, yo quiero Salva Vida," (it's a twist on a Pitbull line, and its fucking great I tell you). Most importantly, Salva Vida isn't that bad. Not exactly high praise, but the stuff is drinkable. So drink up, young man/woman.

Final, thing to note. Bud Light, Coors Light, and Miller Light are worshipped here. They are not any better, if at all better, than Salva Vida. But they are American, and they are symbolic of high status. So people love them here. Don't rip on them too much, if offered one, you will break a Honduran's heart. Just tell him you will have a Port Royal because you want to try the local stuff.

On Teacher Training

I attended one presentation on education in college, in which the presenter, David Stroupe, compared teaching to medical practice. Stroupe, a Phd student in education at the University of Washington, described in detail the absurdity of a very intelligent, recently graduated biology major trying to perform a simple medical procedure. He concluded- correctly- that such an individual would have no idea where to start, before subsequently claiming that sending that same smart upstart to the classroom would have the an equally disastrous result. Teaching, he felt, was a profession that required a careful honing of talent and significant practice.

The context of this opening was a speech about the failings of Teach for America. Mr. Stroupe had not been a Teach for America corps member, but he had participated in an alternative licensure program that had sent him to the classroom totally unprepared. Teach for America, he failed to note, sends its teachers to an intensive training program the summer after they graduate. Students hear from current and former teachers, learn the best instruction methods, and most importantly practice in a classroom. They are taught how to manage a classroom and grade a paper. Though five or six weeks of training may not be enough, it is significantly better than zero days.

I don't know if any studies have been done which confirm the importance of intensive training programs, but I certainly feel more prepared after my four week induction. One of the key lessons I have learned is that boring monotony is bad: students will retain more if lessons are creative and varied. A teacher writing notes on the board is worse than boring for the students; it also decreases the likelihood that the students will learn the material. My practice sessions with real students were invaluable; all teacher training programs at universities should require externships at a local school (most do, in fairness). There is nothing like being in a real classroom with real students; on disciplinary issues I think this is especially important. Before my training program I didn't want to do a seating chart, but after two days of training I realized the folly of my thinking. A well-thought out seating arrangement will lead to better behavior, (making my life easier) and improved comprehension on the part of the students (improving their life come exam time).

I did have some issues with my training. First and foremost, our trainers presented some arguments made by education scholars as fact, when in fact they were not. We were told to adhere to many vague philosophies that had never been tested, and evidence coming from regression models was presented as gospel. There is an enormous amount of bogus social science studies floating about on jstor and google scholar; a researcher displaying his understanding of statistics hardly means his paper is correct, or even close to right. Data on educational attainment is especially spotty, making me even more hesitant to believe some conclusions presented to our team of teachers. In social science fields where statistics are better recorded and more widely available, say political science and economics, there is still considerable disagreement. Changing the parameters of a test or controlling for one variable, can dramatically alter the conclusion. Different datasets on the same topic- say the effect of low interest rates on net exports- can lead to contrasting conclusions. The quantity and quality of studies in these fields has helped teach us a ton about the world we live in, but education is still a new field. Everything needs to be taken, and should be presented, with more than a few grains of salt.

I also thought we should have given more time to plan our curriculum. It would have been nice to develop our long term plans more, especially as first-year teachers. As it is, we have only a rough idea where we will be at the end October, let alone May.

As for Mr. Stroupe, I still find his argument lacking. Teaching is not really comparable to medical practice; there is a reason physicians are required to spend four years in medical school and serve at least three years as a resident. Their jobs, quite frankly, are more complicated and the stakes are higher. The evidence is pretty clear that smarter teachers who thoroughly understand the material they are teaching produce better results than their less brilliant cohorts; thus, it is important to get these people in a classroom. And while Mr. Stroupe and others criticize TFA and other similar teachers for their youth and inexperience, I think these traits can be an asset as well. Young teachers will be more willing to adjust and act flexibly; they will not be set in their (potentially misguided) ways. Moreover, teachers who know they are only in this for a year or two are more likely to work hard and give it their all than a middle-aged man who has been teaching for twenty years and knows they still have twenty more left to go.

That said, my teacher training experience has been positive, and I think every individual who steps in a classroom on the first day of school should at least have been in a comparable situation at some point. Mr. Stroupe is right that teachers need to be taught. All alternative licensing programs in the U.S. and abroad should require at least a month of rigorous in depth training. Installing such programs would benefit teachers, and more importantly, their students. And whatever helps them should guide educational policies.

The Importance of Family

My grandmother, Anne Hatem, has always been the glue that kept our family together. I have always known her as an endearing grandmother: she would serve whatever food I desired, wash my clothes, and on one occasion even played videogames with me. Photos and stories recall a wonderful, but different person. Strikingly beautiful, she was the cool-under-pressure nurse and the no-nonsense mother of six children. Her record stands for itself; her children have gone on to become writers, doctors, lawyers, scientists, and accountants. All have acquired her generosity of spirit and her sense of humor. But even as these successful people went their different ways, her charm and heart have ensured that our family’s ties were not unbound.

In Honduras, families are especially close. They often live in complexes with other family members. For instance, my permanent home is in an apartment above a house where one family lives. Other members of the family live in a house to the left of ours; you enter through the same gate. At my homestay, the situation was the same. Two brothers lived in the same complex as each other; their sons grew up together and are best friends, and their wives exchange cooking materials, parenting tricks, and gossip.  Uncles and nephews may share a father-son like bond; if their age difference is small they may simply be close pals. There are often stories of one member of the family heading to the U.S., but in general families are incredibly close here.

Why is this? If I were to put on my amateur social scientist hat I would theorize that it has to do with the country’s limited economic resources. Everyone falls on tough times; people know that they are not immune to distress or hunger so they want to have a safety blanket if the worst should happen. There is no government safety net here: social security and public health insurance offer minimal to nonexistent protection. People must rely on their families, for housing and food, as well as comfort and guidance.

My family, compared to most Honduran ones, has been incredibly blessed. Our closeness, I think is remarkable considering the different lives that my mother and her siblings have led. Much of the credit for this, as I stated in the first paragraph must go to my grandmother. She was the planet around which we orbited.

Sadly, she died this Friday, August 10^th.  Her funeral is tomorrow. To my regret, I will not be able to attend. But from Honduras, I wish her a fond farewell and a pleasant trip to the other side.

Rest in peace, Grandma. You will be sorely missed.

Heroism and The Dark Knight Rises

One of my biggest fears about coming to Honduras- I kid you not- concerned my ability to view The Dark Knight Rises in English on a big screen. Movies this big and this bold should not be cheapened by crappy voice actors dubbing the film into Spanish, let alone witnessed on a small computer screen via some pirated copy that features a fat guy walking across the screen because he couldn’t hold off on his second tub of popcorn.  I feared that Honduras’s few theatres would only show dubbed versions, and I do not consider English street copies an acceptable substitute.

But two weeks after its US release date, and a week after its Honduran one, I found time and transportation to see The Dark Knight Rises in English.  The film was my most anticipated film in at least five years: after all, the trailers were awesome and The Dark Knight was my favorite film of 2008 (its Oscar snub for The Reader caused the Academy to expand the number of Best Picture nominees to ten to avoid similar future embarrassments). 

The events in Aurora, Colorado considerably dimmed my excitement, at least until a few hours before the screening.  James Holmes- aka the over armed lunatic- managed to strike a frightening chord that resonated deeply. It could have been any one of us in that theatre. An enormous pop cultural moment will forever be stained by his actions; a monumental film will forever have an ugly asterisk by its name. And of course, some family will never see their loved ones again.

But onto the film itself. It was not a disappointment, despite my absurd and unfair expectations. I don’t think the film was as good as The Dark Knight, but few are. The wild card element, tangibly embodied by Heath Ledger, was missing in the final piece of the trilogy. The Joker was the perfect character for director Christopher Nolan, who loves narrative sleight-of-hands (see Memento or The Prestige). With The Dark Knight, Nolan upped the ante: apparently comic book film adaptations are not encoded with DNA that claim they must be predictable.  Very rarely has a genre been so vigorously turned on its head, as the super hero film was in The Dark Knight.

The Dark Knight Rises lacks this chaos. There are twists and turns to be sure in Rises, but they are less clever and more predictable than those of its predecessor. But the final installment of Nolan’s trilogy makes up ground with a larger scope and greater emotional pull.  And despite its 160-minute plus running length, The Dark Knight Rises will not have anyone staring at their watches.

Though Nolan cannot coax a Ledger-esque performance out of any of his principals, the film is finely acted all around. Christian Bale turns in his best performance as the Bruce Wayne/the caped crusader; his gritty devotion to the role shines through in every scene. Tom Hardy, Anne Hathaway, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Marion Cotillard all acquaint themselves well. Hardy is suitably intimidating; Gordon-Levitt appropriately earnest. Hathaway provides the film’s minimal levity. But best in show, in a deeply moving performance, is Michael Caine. It would have been easy for the veteran actor to phone in a performance- he is only playing Alfred the butler, after all. Caine, however, gives the character his all, in a classy performance that reminds viewers why he is a legend.

The politics of the film are difficult to decipher, but there are some clear messages. Nolan, and his brother Jonathan, who co-wrote the screenplay, clearly have a libertarian streak. They warn against oppressive government, and rally for civil liberties. Moreover, the movie relentlessly reminds us of the power of the individual.

Ron Paul enthusiasts should hold their breath though. The Nolan’s also have a timely message about economic inequality. This did not stem from the Occupy movement; the script was finished several months before protesters appeared at Zuccotti Park. The Nolan’s credibly suggest in Rises that inequality can breed hatred, political instability, and violence. Indeed, there are several references to the French Revolution. If people do not believe in the system, than they may try to destroy it.

Yet the film, more than anything, is a cry for heroism. Bruce Wayne puts everything on the line for Gotham; his body and soul are beaten to a pulp in Rises. And I think Nolan’s willingness to do this to his hero, is the critical ingredient that separates The Dark Knight trilogy from other super hero films. Bruce didn’t get his super powers through some freak accident or genetic enhancement (a la Superman or Spider-Man), and Batman gets no fame or fortune from his heroics (aka Captain America, Iron Man, Thor).  Instead, he gets physically punished, faces the scorn of the city he has protected, and must grapple emotionally with the deaths of those he loves.

Bruce Wayne battles bad guys not because he receives personal gain, but because it is the right thing to do. He protects the city because he loves it, and because he can. I think everyone would be a damn superhero if they only had to get bitten by a spider, and their reward was a relationship with Emma Stone. If it meant incessant training, no sleep, guaranteed bodily harm, and endangering those they cared about it, well then they might decide against it. Yet Bruce, who inherited a fortune, by the way, goes for it anyway. He is a real patriot, and a true hero.

There may no Batman’s in the real world, but Bruce reminds us at a critical juncture in the film that anyone can be a hero. It could be as simple as putting a coat on a boy who just watched his parents get murdered, he says. But it could also be a Honduran cop refusing to take payouts from the local drug gang. Or perhaps a young man covering the body of his girlfriend in a movie theatre turned war zone.

Collectively, we have the power to emulate the hero who has inspired us; now we must show the courage to do so.

Honduran Institutions

I did not intend for my first post did not come across as anti-Honduran, but I understand how it could have been construed as such. After all, I remarked upon a number of less than savory conditions that any Honduran (or gringo in Honduras) must confront: relentless poverty, the high crime rate, the fear that a tarantula will crawl up your leg while you are taking a dump.

But it is important to understand the difference between people and institutions. Let’s use a hypothetical Honduran as an example; we’ll call him Carlos. Our hombre Carlos went to public school throughout his life. Large class sizes and teacher strikes restricted the quality of Carlos’s education, but he still did better than most of his peers and moved on to study engineering at university. He did well in his college courses, but the quality of his education remains far worse than that of a similar graduate in the United States (even though Carlos is smarter than said student). After graduating, Carlos gets married and has two children. To support the family he loves, Carlos takes a position working for the government; his job is to manage and design water systems. Carlos has the natural intelligence to help produce a better system, but his education has left him short of some of the necessary skills. He would be willing to work overtime to figure out a method of improving the water system so it could handle toilet paper, but the government lacks the funds to pay him more than his base salary. The Honduran people, however, frustrated that their water system stops functioning every week, refuse to pay more in taxes. They already have a miniscule income, and the services they get for their hard earned tax dollars are shit.  So they only vote for candidates who will lower taxes, meaning the education system remains terrible and there remains no overtime. Everyone’s actions are fairly logical- and almost everyone like Carlos is a good guy- but there is institutional failure. This thought experiment leaves out a critical variable that dramatically exacerbates the problem- corruption- but it shows how well intentioned people can become a part of an institutional failure.

Honduras can break out of this trap, but it will not be easy. 

Why the Fuck am I here?

Lets be honest. Honduras, on paper, has it rough. It is the most violent country in the world, with 87 homicides per 100,000 people. In San Pedro Sula, which recently blew by Ciudad Juarez as the most dangerous city in the world, the rate is close to 250 per 100,000. That means you have a 1 in 400 chance of getting murdered every year, and there is a 10% chance that your or one of the 39 people closest to you will be killed each year. GDP per capita (adjusted for cost of living) is under $4500, making Honduras about a tenth as rich as the United States. Wealthy Hondurans aspire to many of the luxuries enjoyed by lower-middle class Americans.  You can't drink  the water, going out at night can be dangerous, and power outages are common. You can't flush the toilet paper; it goes into a wastebasket next to the shitter. But hey, at least the toilet flushes sometimes.

So why the fuck am I here?

To teach, essentially.  I am in this lovely place to teach english to pliable young Honduran minds. I may not have the moral drive of Hilary Swank (in Freedom Writers) or Edward James Olmos (in Stand and Deliver), the inventiveness of Robin Williams (in Dead Poets Society), or the happy-go-lucky cuteness of Zooey Deschanel (in anything), but I do believe I have the potential to be a good teacher. Along the way, I hope to graduate from pigeon spanish to can-kind-of-express-himself-in-a-gringo-accent spanish. I'm also here to soak up all the joys that come with traveling and embracing a different culture. And finally, I do genuinely believe in the importance of aiding those less privileged than yourself.

I don't know how this blog, or this year, will turn out. Ideally, I will find my real self, have my worldview forever changed, get paid to write a deeply moving memoir, have my best-selling book adapted to the big screen, and become a millionaire. More likely scenario: I get authentic joy from teaching, along with some significant headaches. I also flirt between bemusement and depression over my bug-infested apartment and the unending quantity of beans I consume. I make some great new friends (already happened really), and I enjoy the year even if I have no desire to repeat it.

I am going to try and post pretty regularly and be humorous, but don't be surprised if I fail on both counts. I am going to keep the blog anonymous at least for now for safety reasons, so please acknowledge that if/when you write comments.

Hasta luego- friends, family, creepy strangers.