No more stinkin´clothes!

We have been here for over a week now so our laundry has really started to pile up! After not doing so good on the “Pila” (Honduran washing machine) we decided we would have to figure out another way to do laundry. Our landlord has so graciously agreed to purchase a washing machine for us, but we had to do something in the mean time. After asking around, we discovered that there was a laundry mat right around corner from our house. Desperate for some clean towels, we decided to check it out. We stuffed all our laundry in a big bag (as instructed) and took off.

The place looked good, about 5 washer and dryers sets were in the large room. When we first walked in, I noticed that they had Psalm 91 (in Spanish) taped on the wall...that was pretty cool since that is the passage we read every morning-praying for protection! The workers told us that it would be 6 lempira per pound to wash, dry, and fold the clothes. They would even neatly place them all back in the bag for easy transporting. Of course, Greg asked for a discount since we had about 30 pounds of clothes and fortunately for us, they agreed to give us 10% off. I asked them to have the towels ready to be picked up later in the evening, but the rest could wait until tomorrow. However, when we returned to get them around 6pm (only a few hours after we dropped it off), they were completely finished washing all of the clothes. We were quite impressed! The best part was when we got home and I was able to put away 30 pounds of clean, folded clothes without lifting a finger! This is one cultural difference that I could definitely get used to!

On the other hand, we had another cultural experience today that didn’t turn out as well. We decided to get out of the house and have dinner at a nearby restaurant. Alex, our landlord’s semi-bilingual 9 year old son joined us as well. We had eaten at Senorial previously while visiting Comayagua, and really enjoyed their typical Honduran cuisine. However, when we dined at the restaurant previously (during mission trips), a Spanish speaker from the group would always order the same plate for everyone. Now, it would be up to us to read the menu and decide for ourselves. Alex did his best to help us, however, some words were definitely lost along the way. So, we took a deep breath and ordered. I ordered the grilled chicken served with typical Honduran sides (rice, beans, eggs, tortillas, cheese) and Greg asked for a chicken empanada. Well, at least that is what we thought we ordered. Mine turned out to be pan fried chicken with toast, salad, rice and french fries and poor Greg ended up with breaded, deep fried chicken and the same sides (definitely not an empanada). Not quite what we were expecting to say the least! We just chalked it for another reason that we need to learn Spanish!