podemos...podemos...

Monday marked a grand adventure.

It was our first day of orientation. We were given the ins and outs of the island, prepared for what cultural differences we may encounter, and given a history of the school. We also learned that currently the entire school only has fifty students enrolled. The reason being that many of the families make their living through the shrimping business and the shrimp boats aren't back yet. So, they are ready to enroll but can't afford it until the boats are back. Did I mention school starts in just shy of two weeks?
Prayers are welcomed. 

We were also given a tour of the school, and I was able to peek inside my soon to be classroom. It is funny how perspective changes. I thought the school to be quite lovely at first glance. And when I took inventory of the school books I thought, wow they have so many books! Then when I took a step back I saw that this school is nowhere near the standard of American schools, the books are somewhat outdated with torn covers and ratty pages, the whole school is desperately in need of a fresh coat of paint, and the floors are made of cement. Lastly, there is no air conditioning. But all that aside, CPBS offers an incredible education compared to the public schools and even the other private schools. And they take their education very seriously. So, leaving orientation I felt a bit overwhelmed, to say the least. 

I am not a teacher. 

I don't know how to lesson plan. 

I might not even have a full class enrolled. 

And how do you entertain and educate at the same time? 

For SEVEN HOURS?!

So after orientation some of the teachers decided to walk to the beach to relax, unwind, and explore. When we asked Don Jaime where the nearest beach to walk to was, he shook his head and said, "Taxi." Being that we live on an island that is only three miles wide, we couldn't believe it. We again told him that we wanted to walk. He laughed, but we set out anyway. Our destination: Parrot Tree Resort. Only a thirty minute walk, supposedly, and with any luck we'd hitch a ride. About a minute up the road, after learning the honduran phrase for "hitchhike" (halon) and with thumbs out, a truck pulled over, but with the 6 of us, he didn't have room. After a polite thanks anyway, we headed up. 

And I do mean UP. 

We walked at a pretty steep incline for a good hour. In bathing suits and flip flops, mind you. At the top of the hour we saw a sign for Ocean Reef Resort, which sounded all too promising. So we abandoned Parrot Tree Resort and headed down (for what goes up, must come down) to Ocean Reef. In hindsight, the chain across the entrance should have been a clear sign. After hiking down about a mile, we were stopped by a construction worker who informed us that we couldn't be down there because they were remodeling. 

So up we went again. A mile back up the even steeper hill to the main road. And then another twenty minutes until we saw the sign for Parrot Tree Resort. Yet after the sign, it is another good mile and a half downhill and uphill, and down and up, and down and up one more time.  

So our casual stroll to the beach became a painful, hot, sweaty, four hour hike. By this point my legs were in pain, toes cramping from clenching my flip flops to my feet, body drenched in sweat, and it was nearing nightfall. There were a few times I thought, forget it, lets catch a cab. But throughout the hike we had a little chant that John, one of the Honduran teachers, repeated often. Especially to me. When my breath was getting short and my shoulders slumping he would look back with a smile and say "Podemos...podemos...podemos..." (We can do it..we can do it...) until I repeated it too. 

Finally we climbed up the last hill and saw in the distance the beautiful resort. It was incredible. A little inlet of the caribbean with white sand and little huts and the roaring sea out in the distance. And it was as if it was just there, waiting. We dove in and swam and gawked and backstroked until the sun was setting, then dried off and braved the long trek home. 

I can't help thinking that that hike is going to be quite like our journey here in Roatan. When I first applied, I thought it would be a fun adventure. I don't think any of us fully anticipated the work that lies ahead, and the responsibility that we will have over these kids. We are not armed with all the right equipment, tools, and experience. We don't exactly know where it is that we are going, or even trying to get to. There will be moments that we are hot and sweaty and tired. There will be times that we will think, what are we doing here? Why did we think we could do this? When the hill will look too steep to conquer and we will want to find the easy way out. But had we done those things, we'd never have reached Parrot Tree. Or we'd have reached it under different circumstances.
And it wouldn't have been quite so beautiful without the peace of the late afternoon.
And the water wouldn't have been so delicious on our hot skin.
And the view not so immaculate. Without the coolness of night setting in.
And the lightning flashing in the distance. 

Parrot Tree wills always be waiting,
 if we are willing to take the hike.