Day 1: Cold Feet, or The Question

Double-Fistin'

The first day of our study began exactly like any other visit to Chiken Drive- Laura and I ordered a couple Imperiales and an Anafre Sin Carne. Anafre is a delicious bean dip, covered in cream and some sort of white cheese, and usually containing meat particles. Served with chips, an anafre is usually devoured pretty quickly (which is probably for the best- once it starts settling, the oil and fat rises to the top and you realize what trials your intestines must be going through at the moment).

As luck would have it, our first day of the Chiken Drive study was conducted with fellow-armchair-anthropologist Jim. He was actually only there to try and pick up some barbeque supplies, and stayed for a beer with us. I got to watch an interesting exchange as he tried to buy some lighter fluid from the woman behind the counter. I'm not sure that these were the exact words used, since the whole conversation was in Spanish, but here's the basic gist:

JIM: Excuse me.

WOMAN BEHIND COUNTER: Talk to me.

JIM: Do you have something for starting a fire?

WOMAN: [gets out matches] Matches?

JIM: No, I mean, something to help start the fire, like lighter fluid.

WOMAN: We use gasoline. There is a gas station across the street.

JIM: You start your grill with gasoline?! [laughs] How barbaric!

WOMAN: [smiles] No, it works fine.

JIM: Well, can you sell me a little bit of gasoline?

WOMAN: No, we don't have any.


Jim soon took off, leaving Laura and I to ponder. In theory, we kind of imagined two weeks at Chiken Drive to be a mystical experience, one in which remarkable, only-in-Honduras moments would happen constantly. But as we sipped in the hot Saturday afternoon, it seemed completely normal. Completely unevenful. Completely un-blogworthy.

"Maybe this is a dumb idea," Laura sighed defeatedly.

I puffed out my chest, "No way- just wait. Something interesting will happen."

Laura and Essa, Whiling Away The Hours

 Five more minutes of silence. Nothing interesting happened.

"Ok, maybe this is a bad idea," I admitted.

Laura got out her notebook. All cultural anthropologists have notebooks. (It should be noted that I was also well-prepared, as I was wearing my cultural anthropoligist hat.)

"Wait- let's just get started. We should describe the place. There are wooden tables and chairs. A tin roof..." She began making a list: Wooden tables and chairs. (cow hide seats). Slanted tin roof.

When the list was complete, we had another 5 minute "silent brainstorming session." I got another round of Imperiales.

"OK, so what are we going for here?" Laura began again, "An ode to Honduras? A cultural analysis? A bunch of funny stories? A series of interviews?"

"I'm thinking more like Moby Dick."

Laura silently waited for me to explain my stroke of pure brilliance, no prodding necessary.

I graciously continued, "Glad you asked. Yeah, Moby Dick. The main guy, Ishmael, spends the whole book basically trying to answer the question: What is a whale? And he looks at whale art, and whale bone structure, and the color of whales, and he combines them all into this long-winded answer to that same question: What is a whale?" In reality, I probably spent about 15 minutes on a much more long-winded explanation, but this is a blog and I can bend reality all I want. I should mention that I was also looking incredibly handsome at the time.

Laura took a sip of beer, "...and so our question is...What is Chiken Drive?"

I leaned back Socratically, "Exactly."

After tugging with that thought for a moment, we teased out some general ideas, paid our bill and walked home, knowing we'd be making that same journey over and over again for the next couple weeks.

 What Is Chiken Drive?