Throw Your Hands Up

Informal bus vendors are ubiquitous in Latin America and their presence is an expected part of any trip on public transportation. On one four hour bus ride along the central highway between La Guama and Tegucigalpa, probably 15 different vendors walked the aisle of our bus, each attempting to earn a few lempiras in his own “unique” way. It doesn’t take long to pick up on the patterns of stereotypical vendors.

For example, the herbal medicine “specialist” that came on board is a common breed among bus vendors. Touting a laminated poster with pictures of the myriad intestinal parasites, as they all do, he expounded upon the maladies caused by these parasites, describing intestinal discomfort in the vaguest way possible and linking all of your problems to parasites. Fortunately, he was selling the magic pill to cure our ailments. In the end, he sold people non-herbal medicine of the packaged pharmaceutical kind, divvying up the pills in the box as if he knew the proper dosage.

One man, an evangelical, instructed us to put our hands up and find salvation in the Lord Almighty. After praying for a solid 20 minutes and insulting all of the Catholics on the bus, he got to the sales pitch. Selling mini-flashlights and pens, which looked normal to the untrained eye, he explained that they were indeed blessed. My fellow passengers not only bought his products but applauded him.
Other vendors got straight to the point. One man, selling toothbrushes, fixated on the amazing tongue cleaner on the back. He threw in a free pen with purchase. I ended up buying a barely palatable cheese-flavored cookie topped with caramelized sugar because the woman selling them gave me a free sample and then promptly asked how many I would be purchasing. I couldn’t say none without feeling guilty. I also bought fresh boiled corn-on-the-cob which I actually wanted.

We were in turn visited by a clown and various others selling the normal goods – pop, water, plaintain chips, rosquillas (dried cheese rings), candied squash, etc.

The Upper Crust

Large concentrations of wealthy Hondurans are hard to come by, primarily because wealthy Hondurans aren’t all that prevalent. However, they tend to congregate in certain places, one of them being expensive private hospitals. I recently made a trip to Tegucigalpa to see an allergist and the Peace Corps sent me to the Honduras Medical Center. Despite expecting something nicer than the average public health clinic, I still wasn’t expecting the grand fountain in the lobby. I almost laughed out loud, the juxtaposition was so ridiculous.

As I sat down in the waiting room, I quickly realized I was surrounded by Coach purses. The woman in front of me was wearing Chanel glasses. One family was taking pictures with a digital camera. Observing the scene you might assume you were waiting to get in to a fancy restaurant. Pearls. High-heels. Copious amounts of mascara. One young woman was visiting the doctor in a dress and stilettos.
There was also a fish tank in the waiting room. And directly outside of the pediatric unit, absurdly enough, there was a well-placed candy bar stand. Nonetheless, despite the outwardly fancy appearance of the hospital, it’s still necessary to throw your toilet paper in the trash can.

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Maybe it’s purely a cultural difference, but I can’t help but think that many Latin American women, at least in Honduras, Peru and Ecuador, are stuck in gender roles of the American 1950s. No one exudes this quality more than the upper class. Just last week in one of the biggest newspapers, there was an article which, very seriously explained how a proper woman should act. Cell phone rings while dining in a restaurant? Daintily exit to your right but make sure to re-enter your seat from the left. Also, you should never reapply your makeup in front of people which to me implies that you should be wearing makeup. And professional women should always wear high-heels.

Go figure, I don’t remember most of the list.