Christmas in Honduras
Christmas in Honduras sunny and delicious. Christmas parties are everywhere, and come with very royally dressed women and scantily dressed girls. Office beauty pageants. The days are a warm 80 degrees, toasty not humid. I’m eating Tres Leches cake like my heart is made of iron, not soft, susceptible tissue.
I can’t get enough of the Christmas trees. Like everything here, color is supreme.
Don’t forget that they don’t grow pine trees here, and that these are all fake.
The center of town is grungy as ever, but filled with bustling shoppers wiping sweat, not snow from their brow. The main Christmas tree of Honduras is clearly adored.
I have seen one living tree- in the home of a Kiva borrower. It is my personal favorite.
Christmas to me smells like sharp pine mixed with musty paper as we unwrap the ornaments. I love to decorate the tree. Each ornament bought in a different year. Many older than me. In Honduras, trees are new every year. New ornaments. New beginnings. I helped build the tree in my home here.
Giant metallic globes compete with gold garlands and plastic bunches of grapes. Each sparkling piece is attached to the wire branch and polyester needles. I adore it.