Mel in El

Para La Familia Batres

2009-05-12T10:25:00.000-07:00

Estas son fotos de la coronaciòn de nuestra reina de la fiestas patronales de 2009, Carolina Batres. Saludos.

Festival de Maiz (Corn Festival)

2009-03-13T09:31:00.000-07:00

A very cool activity this past Wednesday. Here's some picture and I'll put up more pictures and a story next week.

Trying not to fall of the volcano

2009-02-14T08:31:00.000-08:00

The community of Las Trancas is nestled at the base of a dormant volcano. From the first day I arrived here, I knew that I would need to climb the volcano before I leave. Two weeks ago I finally did it. Never again.

I have hiked part way up the volcano on three separate occasions before my most recent ascent, but because of the groups I went with (younger kids or older adults), I always knew we would not reach anywhere near the top. And we didn’t; in fact, before two weeks ago I had not even reached the midpoint of the volcano. So when on a Thursday night Chino came to my house to tell me that the next morning a group of people were setting to summit the Usulutan Volcano, I knew I had to cancel whatever plans I had and join them.

We left at 5:30 on a Friday morning. A good group consisting of “Chino”, the Sherpa—strong and athletic; “Moncho,” offered constant moral support; “La Pipa,” provided comedic relief when it was most needed; “Gallo”, the Don, the decision maker; and “El Gringo”—more comedic relief but more for my blunders than my jokes. Amongst us, we carried 4 machetes, 4 slingshots, 1 pistol, a pot to cook in, water, expectations to reach the top and hopes to come across an iguana, rabbit, or armadillo to cook on the mountain. Also we carried a 30 foot rope which should have served as a fair warning to me, but of course it did not.

The first few hors of the hike were pleasant enough. The trail was steep but it was a trail nonetheless. At about 9:00 we stopped to make coffee over an open fire and eat bread, tortillas, and beans. Feeling replenished, we set off again in high spirits. Almost immediately, the trail abruptly ended. We hiked or way into a overgrown wash. We continued stumbling over rocks and through brush with the idea that if we were going up, we must be going in the right direction. Though difficult, there was still no danger graver than a scratch from an overhanging tree branch or a banged shin by a loose rock. That is, until we reached a 15 foot wall of rock.

It came out of nowhere and there was no going around it. We sat for a minute, laughed uneasily, and then decided there was nowhere to go but up. Chino took his machete and chopped down a nearby tree. We chopped off the branches leaving us with a 15 foot log. The log was placed up against the rock wall and Chino shimmied his way up the log to the top of the cliff. From there, he tied the rope to a tree at the top and the rest of us proceeded to climb the cliff using the rope as support. Scary, but not too big of a deal.

At the top of the cliff we were greeted with another, only this one was twice the size of the first. Once again, we felled a tree and placed it up against the rock wall. The biggest tree we could find only reached about half way up the cliff. So Chino, in an impressive feat of mountaineering shimmied up the tree for 15 feet and then rock-climbed the remaining 25 feet of the cliff. From the top he called down to us that there was nowhere to tie the rope to and he was just going to wrap it around his wrists and hold it as we climbed up the cliff. Looking at Gallo’s 6 foot 210 pound frame I called up that I didn’t think that was such a great idea. Chino was offended that I didn’t have confidence in him. Now as people who have visited me here know, I will go to great lengths not to offend Salvadorans. I have eaten food that I don’t like until I’m on the verge of getting sick, I have sat through 4 hour nighttime evangelical church services, and most recently I scaled a 40 foot cliff using a rope attached to nothing but Chino in order not to offend Salvadorans. If anyone from Peace Corps is reading this, I think I deserve an award.

Reaching the top, we all breathed a sigh of relief to be safely on a 45 degree slant as oppose to a 90 degree one. Now, about ¾ of the way to the top, there was nowhere to go but up, up, up. This last stretch got steeper, more overgrown, and the dirt and rocks were much looser. As we neared the peak we were scrambling on all fours dodging rocks, branches, and at one point a machete that was dropped by on of my partners ahead of me. With steep slopes on either side of me, there was no dodging falling debris, the best I could do was shield myself with my backpack. It was just a ridiculous, dangerous comedy of errors. Myself, La Pipa, and Gallo, knowing that going down was going to be even more dangerous than coming up, had decided enough was enough. Moncho and Chino, having heard that there was an easier trail on the other side of the volcano, wanted to get to the top, descend the volcano on the easier trail and take a bus back to the community from the other side of the mountain. The prospect of not having to climb down the steep, slippery part of the volcano we were currently on and the two cliffs we had scaled earlier was appealing to everyone, but eventually decided it was better to start heading down rather than facing the treacherous 50 vertical feet that remained to the top.

Going down is when we really started to realize the situation we had gotten ourselves into. Any misstep or slide would not be easily corrected and would result in at best, some very serious injuries very high up on a mountain. So very slowly we began or descent. We walked in the crab position, on all fours and looking upward so that if we started to slide we could sit down and drag or hands and hopefully stop ourselves. It was at this point that I heard La Pipa mention his three kids. I think we all, except maybe Chino, were thinking similarly—we could die if we fall.

We reached a spot of relatively level ground where we stopped to eat some more bread, beans, and tortillas. The mood was rather different from our first meal as we were all thinking about the cliffs that still awaited us.

After eating, we set off again. As we neared the rock walls, we searched for more manageable ways down. Not finding any, we planned how to climb down. The first one was the big one. The rope only reached 30 of the 40 feet down. We decided cut down a tree, tied it to the rope, and lowered it so touched the ground and leaned against the cliff. Moncho went down first. He lowered himself down the first 30 feet using the rope that was supported again by Chino. He shimmied down the tree for the last 10 feet and let out a yelp of relief. Next went Gallo, then La Pipa, and finally, it was my turn. I’m certain I was pale as could be and my hands were shaking. I have never been in a situation where I had to do something so dangerous with no other options. I don’t think I was being overdramatic in thinking I might die. And I wish I could say I was confident in my own physical abilities (heck, Chino wasn’t scared and he had to climb down after all of us and without the help of the rope) but I was definitely not. Very slowly and very cautiously I made it down without problems.

When Chino made it down without problems, the change in the mood of the group was night and day. Even though the 15 foot cliff was still in front of us, the worst was behind. Once again, at the risk of sounding overdramatic, I think we were all ecstatic to be alive. The rest of the way down was filled with constant talking, joking, and laughing.

I choose not to drink in my community due to a prevalence of alcoholism and a stigma placed on those who drink by those who don’t—a stigma that would hinder my work here. However, heading back to the community, I suggested we stop at a small restaurant to drink a few beers. I have rarely felt more close to a group of people than I did at that restaurant drinking those beers and talking about our adventure. Leaving the restaurant, we decided to sit under a huge mango tree as the sun was going down. It was mostly silent except for the occasional contented sigh which really said it all.

Trying not to fall off the volcano

2009-02-13T07:36:00.000-08:00

I had written a blog at home and saved it on my USB drive to post, but for some reason it didn't save. I'll have to resave it from my computer at home and post it next time I'm on the internet. In the meantime, enjoy the pictures from my adventure.

Thanksgiving 2008

2008-12-18T08:21:00.001-08:00

Dia de los Difuntos (Muertos)

2008-12-18T08:12:00.000-08:00

November 2, 2008

Development

2008-12-11T09:34:00.001-08:00

''If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.''

-Aboriginal Activist Group, Queensland, 1970's

Technically, Peace Corps is a development organization. In reality it is much more (and much less) than a traditional development organization, but nonetheless, the work can be classified under the surprisingly broad term ‘development.’

I’ve been doing a lot of reading and thinking about what exactly development is and what it should be and it has been somewhat depressing. Mostly I come across methods of development that I think are terrible. I have yet to come across a development theory or practice that I am 100% comfortable with. More and more it seems to me that development is not something that can be done from the outside (rich countries helping poor countries), but rather something that needs to be homegrown. But the idea of not doing anything is also uncomfortable to me.

The first problem I have with development is the word itself. To me, it implies a sense of superiority. The development organization from the rich country is going to develop the backward ways of the poor. We are developed and we know what that means and we are going to show you (or make you) like us. It is worrisome that a word so widely used is so rarely defined. MORE ON THIS…NOT YET CONVINCING

It seems to me that development is too often something that is done to or for a community rather than something that is done by or with the community itself. A perfect example of this happened in my community yesterday.

WorldVision is a global development organization that works a lot in my municipality. I admittedly don’t know much about their funding or their goals or mission, but in my community they work mostly on projects with youth and with small-scale farmers.

So yesterday I was playing dominos with a couple of my neighbors when a guy from my community came by to tell me that there were a bunch of Koreans at Chepe Malo’s house. Foreigners (and Koreans at that) are a very rare thing for a small Salvadoran community, so like my neighbors, I had to go check it out. Turns out, a group of young-adult Koreans were bringing my community silos to store grain. Apparently the silos had to be painted to help prevent rust, and this is what was going on at Chepe Malo’s house.

So this is a good thing right? I’m not so sure. First off, there was absolutely no interaction between Koreans and Salvadorans. When I showed up, a few of the Koreans were interested in talking English with me, but I didn’t see any trying to converse with Salvos. How might a Salvadoran see this? I’m guessing they would see that people from rich, powerful countries really only care to interact with each other. I’m also guessing that this sounds absurd to some of you reading this, but I promise you, the inferiority complex here in El Salvador runs deeper than we can imagine. There was a language barrier for sure, but a smile or nod or any sort of non-verbal communication that expresses interest and friendship would have really went a long way. I saw none of that. There were about 10 silos, 2 of which were being painted by groups of 10 Koreans laughing and talking amongst themselves and 8 of which were being painted by Salvadorans working quietly. And not just quietly, but shyly—in their own community. Doesn’t seem right to me.

Another problem. The Koreans came with a police escort. There are 6 police officers in my entire municipality, I can count the number of times I have seen police in my community on one hand, and this group brought 2 officers for security. What sort of message does this send to a community that prides itself on being calm and safe? I had 3 people ask me why they had security with them. It’s a good question and I really had no answer.

Who were these Koreans? A Salvadoran representative from WorldVision told me that they were children of donors to WorldVision. So, in order to please the donors, WorldVision El Salvador has to escort donors’ children and show them all the people they are helping (developing? saving? converting?). Also, the silos. Where they really needed? They were and are appreciated, but I bet, if it were really researched within my community, people would have preferred the money to go to other projects. So then it seems to me, that in this example of development, more concern was placed on the ‘developers’ than the ‘developees.’ I think that his visit had the potential to do more harm than good. Maybe it did. And I’m not so sure this is an isolated incident in the world of development.

Also, this same day, I had a conversation with a Salvadoran who works for WorldVision. He asked me what sort of projects I’m doing in my community. I told him that I work in the school and that I helped start a bakery, and I mentioned a few other things. He immediately honed in on the bakery and asked me how many beneficiaries. This is very popular development jargon. Essentially, it is believed that the more beneficiaries, the better the project it. It is complete BS. If I buy a bag of Skittles and give one apiece to 50 people, I can claim that there were 50 beneficiaries. I can publish that result in a newsletter to donors. Donors can see that by only spending 1 dollar, I have helped 50 people. My organization must be well-run and deserves their donations.

The system is broken. I am nowhere close to a solution (nor are people a lot smarter than me). But it seems to me that the biggest problem is one of priorities. Development agencies aim to please their donors. I’m not saying that they don’t truly wish to help the poor, but their first concern is funding. I don’t know if agencies can be faulted for that. Without funding, they can’t exist. However, how can we expect… and I don’t know where to go from here—will probably just keep going in circles—but I’ve been meaning to put a blog post up for a while now and this is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I’m planning on keeping a running dialogue (with myself or with my huge audience on the World Wide Web) on my thoughts about this topic. Cheers, and enjoy the pictures below. Actually, no pictures below...just realized I didn't put them on my

'No me llames frijolero' (Don't call me beaner)

2008-09-17T09:15:00.000-07:00

An update of random events...

Zack has been here for 3 weeks now. It's been a great visit and my community has been verywelcoming. I'm amazed at how much the people in my community truly seem to enjoy receivingvisitors--not just to Las Trancas but to their homes, their church, their soccer games, their dinnertables, their hammocks, etc. Just this week Zack has taken naps on hammocks at two seperatehouses. Serendipitously enough, sleeping in another person's hammock is in the top three best compliments one can give a Salvadoran-- ranking right up there with finishing your lunch and asking for seconds.

One day last week we went with a neighbor of mine to plant beans (hence the title--also a pretty great song by the band Molotov) and 'bend' corn stalks. The bending corn has something to do with how the plant absorbs water, althoug I'm still a bit unclear as to why it's necessary..other than the fact that it requires the use of a machete. Bean planting was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Basically, you walk up and down the middles of rows of corn. Every foot or so you jab your machete into the ground, drop in 4 beans, and cover them up with dirt. Walking up and down bent over the whole time for just an hour left me with a terrible back ache for two days. I can't imagine what it must be like to work all day every day in that manner. It begins to make sense that one of the guys we worked with carried a bottle of 'guaro' (moonshine) in his sack of beans. Pain medicine.

Bending corn gave Zack a rash, or at least that's where he claims he got his rash. 'I got a rash, man'

The 15th is independence day in El Salvador. We went and took pictures of the parade. Hot, but nice. I'll post pictures soon.

That's about all to report here. Zack and I are off to Costa Rica tomorrow to see Eddie. Very much looking forward to the trip. Life is good.

Giving Zack a good cultural experience

2008-09-01T08:02:00.000-07:00

My buddy Zack is here for a two week visit. He arrived to San Salvador from Santiago, Chile this past Thursday and we made it to my community Friday evening. Zack's Spanish is quite good and he's an experienced traveler so I wasn't too worried about him being a high-maintenence visitor, but I think the culture shock has been pretty significant. Having been here for over a year, I sometimes forget what a different reality I live here compared with my friends and family--even the ones who have or are currently living abroad.

Friday night when we arrived to my house, we dropped our bags off and went next door to visit my neighbors. Immediately the kids were holding Zack's hands and giving him hugs. The 5 year old girl sat down with her new set of paints to paint him a picture (what of, we still haven't figured out). Zack pointed out that the conversation--which for me felt like a pretty normal chat--referenced God every other sentence. From there we went to visit another family, more little kids, and a little fewer references to God.

Zack's real introduction into rural El Salvador was yesterday. We woke up and went to Catholic Mass. Though neither of us are Catholic, it's nice to be at the church where everyone is happy and singing and all dressed up. It's gives me a warm fuzzy feeling of community.

In the afternoon, Zack and I hopped onto the cattle truck loaded with men heading out to the soccer game. The game was held in a very rural community in the middle of huge fields of caña (sugar cane). I have always been warned that caña fields are dangerous, and I can now see why. To get to the game, we drove on a dirt road surronded on both sides by 10 feet tall caña plants. No houses, no police, and nowhere to go. If someone popped out to rob us (which happens and is the reason why the fields are dangerous) I'm not sure what we could have done.

Regardless, we made it to the field fine. This community might possibly be the poorest and most rural community I've seen so far in El Salvador, and the field reflected it. Sticks, tumbleweed, rocks, holes and dirt took the place of the grass that I knew in the states and am growing less and less accustomed to here in El Salvador. Still, all but two or three of the opposing teams players were shoeless.

Zack and I played in the second game and we made a pretty dynamic duo up top, at least for the first half. At the start of the second half I noticed that the people watching the game were all looking towards where the cattle truck. I couldn't see what they were looking at, but after a couple of minutes they called the game and we were told to grab our stuff and get on the truck. Apparently a couple of the guys we were with got drunk and started insulting some of the people they were drinking with. Those people then went back to their house to get their machetes and that's when we decided it was time to get out of there.

I've learned in situations like this that the best thing to do is read other people's faces; I know that if I see fear on other's faces then it's time for me to get nervous. Thankfully, no one was really too worried, so I wasn't either. Nonetheless, I've never had to end a soccer game early for fear of a fight with machetes.

The ride home is where Zack really got initiated into male Salvadoran culture. The two drunk guys responsable for our sudden departure, decided to start talking to Zack. Drunks are generally kept in check when they are harassing people, but these guys are giants and no one really dares to keep them in check. For the entirety of the 40 minute drive home these guys were telling Zack who in the truck was gay (which was just about everyone) who has a big penis (which were only the two of them) and that Zack should get drunk with them and find women to sleep with. Zack is probably the best sport out of anyone I know in situations like this. Still, I was exhausted just listening to them; I can't imagine having to try to respond to their ridiculousness.

Really though those guys are harmless, the machete incident was more bulla (noise) than action, and soccer was fun. It was a good day and a great introduction into rural El Salvador.

Quinceñera

2008-08-04T09:34:00.000-07:00

I want to be a Latin girl about to turn 15. And really, I’m only half-kidding.

In many Latin American countries a girl’s 15 birthday (called her quinceñera) is a right of passage into womanhood. It’s a cultural and religious tradition often times celebrated more extravagantly than any other event in the girl’s life. This past Saturday one of the more active and well-known families in my community celebrated their twin daughters’ qinceñera. I’m pretty sure this will go down as the party of my two year service in the Peace Corps.

First, the preparations. Every Saturday for the past two months, the twins and their friends whom they had chosen to be part of the ‘court of honor’ have received dance lessons. When Nathalia was here visiting me she and I went to one of these lessons. I figured I could learn some basic dance steps. Oh no. These lessons aren’t to teach basic steps but rather to practice a choreographed, hour-long show that the twins and their 20 chosen friends would perform at the quinceñera. The choreographer was hired from the nearby pueblo and he was a sleazy twenty-something man who took himself a little too seriously and acted a little too cool.

About two weeks before the festivities, the twins walked around the entire community passing out invitations. The invitation was a very pretty two page announcement complete with a list of some 40 contributors, the 20 members of the ‘court of honor’, the 2 flower girls, the 2 girls in charge of passing out roses, the 2 girls in charge of confetti, and the two priests who oversaw the religious ceremony—yes, there were two priests. Thinking back, I might be the only person who was not mentioned on the invitation. Maybe my community integration isn’t as great as I had thought.

At 2:30 the Mass began. It was basically a normal mass with a little bit of an extra sermon on the importance of the quinceñera: that the girls were entering womanhood and must maintain their faith and support to the church, must make responsible and mature choices under God’s guidance, etc.

After mass the party was moved to the family’s house. Let me try to set the scene because that truly is the most amazing aspect of the whole party. Part of a field next to the house was cleared out months ago to make room for the party. Hundreds of plastic chairs and tables had been rented and decorated. A discomovil (mobile disco) had been contracted to provide music and entertainment. The discomovil consists two DJs in charge of music, a huge tent equipped with strobe lights, disco lights, speakers and a movie theatre sized screen and projector to show photos and movies. From the dance floor you felt that you were in a club except for the fact that the dance floor was dirt. The cake was three levels and had a fountain in the middle. The oldest guest at the party was a toothless 90 year old man who doesn’t talk much but laughs jovially at just about anything. The youngest guest was a 9 month old girl who is also toothless and also doesn’t talk much, but she doesn’t laugh jovially very often at all. I like the old man more.

I felt as though I were at a bar mitzvah or wedding in the states except for the fact that there were cornfields on two sides of the party a chicken coup on one side and an adobe house on the fourth side. On the other side of the adobe house you could hear cows mooing. Also, half the male guests had machetes attached to their belts. Yeah, I guess you don’t really see that at bar mitzvahs in the states.

At about 4, the twins made their grand entrance, accompanied by their brother who was visiting from the states, their court of honor, their flower girls, and of course the sleazy choreographer. The procession went immediately to the dance floor where they presented the first half of their choreographed dances. It was basically two dances, one done to Strauss’s Blue Danube Waltz and the other done to some Latin singer repeatedly crooning the word quinceñera in various pitches and volumes. The two dances and the presentation of presents (a ton of presents) took about an hour, and then food was served. All 300 or so guests received a plate of chicken, rice, salad, tortillas, and a soda that was prepared and served by the family and friends. Amazing really.

After dinner, the real party began. The male half of the court of honor had changed from their shirt and jackets into black t-shirts which could only mean one thing: it was time for ‘el mix’ (and yes, the second half of the choreographed dance really was called ‘el mix.’) ‘El mix’ was a exactly what its name advertises, a mix of salsa, ranchera, cumbia, hip-hop and traditional Salvadoran dances. It was amazing.

Once the dancing began, it took me only about 15 minutes before I was on the dance floor. After the last party (a wedding about 2 months ago) I had promised the sisters of a good friend of mine that I would dance with them at the next party. They didn’t forget and I couldn’t back down. We danced mainly in a big group for about an hour or so and I actually enjoyed myself (I know, I can’t believe it either.) Over the course of the night I danced with girls ranging in age from 8 to 50. It was ridiculous and great all at the same time.

At about 8pm it started to pour. At first everyone just crowded under the tent and onto the dance floor. After about 10 minutes of rain a small river or water and mud was running through the dance floor and only the hardcore dancers remained—I was not one of them. I went inside the house and hung out with the family and friends.

I finally left the part around 9:30 or so. I heard the music stop around 10:30. I heard the people drinking out in front of my house leave or pass out around 12. Good times.

Cow Skinning

2008-06-18T09:37:00.001-07:00

I put up 3 post today, so scroll down to see them all. 2 post of pictures, one of words.

Rabbit Skinning and Eating

2008-06-18T09:26:00.000-07:00

Immigration

2008-06-18T09:23:00.000-07:00

The same guy I wrote about in my last post left this week for the states. He told very few people, and I had no idea my next door neighbor had left until a couple of friends of mine came by Saturday night and told me he left that morning.

I’m not sure of the exact numbers, but a very large percentage of Salvadorans have emigrated and continue to emigrate both legally and illegally to the U.S. and Canada. The sad truth is that there are very few jobs in El Salvador and most of them pay next to nothing (think $5-$6 a day for 10 hours of hard labor). For many Salvadorans, emigrating to ‘El Norte’ often seems like the only way to feed and care for families that consist often of 3 or more kids, a spouse, aging parents and grandparents, and sometimes the parents and grandparents of the spouse. Sadly, the trade-off is leaving kids/spouses/parents/grandparents/etc.

I always felt that I was aware of how difficult immigrant life is, but I don’t think I really had a clue before talking to people here who have lived in the states—even still, I’m not sure I can fully appreciate how hard it must be.

The first problem is getting there. Trying to go the legal route and acquiring a visa entails paying hundreds of dollars in processing fees, trips to the American consulate in San Salvador, etc. If you are lucky you get put on a waiting list that can take up to 10 years. If you are unlucky you are flat out denied and left to lament your wasted time and money.

The most nervous/uncomfortable I’ve been since arriving in country was when I was asked to translate a letter written in English regarding a visa application. I was at the school giving English classes when two women from my community came into the classroom, breathless, asking to speak with me. They told me they had been looking all over for me because they just received a letter from the American consulate and they wanted me to translate it for them. The letter turned out just to be a request for some missing information in the visa application, but seeing the frightening look of nervousness and excitement in their eyes makes me hope that I will never have to be the one to translate a letter of denial.

Because of the difficulty in obtaining a visa, the illegal route (por tierra, mojado, con coyote, ilegalmente, sin papeles, etc.) is much more common. My neighbor is currently traveling via the illegal route. He paid a coyote (someone who ferries immigrants across the border) $6,000 to reserve him a spot in a traveling group of about 10 people. Ask any Salvadoran and they could put you in contact with a coyote and quote you the price. It is common knowledge because it is a thought on everyone’s mind.

I can only imagine how difficult the trip is. Growing up in Arizona, every summer I would hear about immigrants found dead or near dead of heat stroke in the desert because the coyote deserted them or because they simply ran out of food and water. Salvadorans are well aware of the dangers. The trip takes about 15 days. Assuming everything goes smoothly, my neighbors have to wait 2 weeks to hear that their dad/husband has made it safe and sound.

Most of the Salvadorans who have been to the states love to talk to gringos about where they lived and what they saw. I always ask them if they liked it there. Answers vary—some loved everything about it, others missed their families, some complain that the food there is no good. But the one thing every Salvadoran who has lived in the states will agree on is that the work there is very good. So my next question is always where did you work? The most common answers are restaurants, construction, landscaping, farming, and as janitors in large office buildings.

It is humbling to hear people talk about how great the work is in the states when they are doing jobs that, to me, would be miserable. But the opportunity to make more in an hour in the states than they would make in a day in El Salvador makes work seem like a privilege rather than a job.

Cultural Sensitivity vs. Personal Convictions

2008-06-06T09:24:00.000-07:00

I was ambivalent about posting this entry. I generally try to make sure my writing is clear and representative of my thoughts when posting on my blog. There seems to be something so final about posting an entry on my blog—like it is a fact or something that I have come to a definite conclusion about. What follows is very much a work in progress, so please read it as such.

This week I had a wonderful conversation with my friend/boss about the disconnect I’ve been feeling in trying to be cultural sensitive while at the same time stay true to my personal beliefs about right and wrong. My thoughts are still quite muddled, so please bear with me while I try to rehash our conversation and my internal dialogue.

The most telling example of where I feel this disconnect relates to a friend of mine in the community. He’s an intelligent, funny, hard-working and active member of the community. He’s a good father and a loving husband. Everyone from the drunken soccer fans to the old women at church enjoy talking with him and feel comfortable in his presence. Also, he cheats on his wife.

Infidelity in El Salvador is not abnormal by any means. It is amazing the number of men who have a wife and family as well as a mistress. Some even maintain a family with their mistress as well as their wife. Though these extra-marital affairs are not openly spoken about (at least not in the presence of women) they aren’t exactly well-kept secrets. It’s the elephant in the room in Salvadoran culture.

My friend’s infidelity presents me with my own internal conflicts. I see him being a good husband and wife, working hard, etc. and I can’t help but like him. But then every few weeks he’ll get drunk and joke with me about going to a brothel. It’s a joke only because he knows I won’t go with him; not because he doesn’t plan on going. And this isn’t a one time mistake that he later regrets—that I could forgive—but it’s a repeated behavior that he deems acceptable.

Intellectually, I can recognize that this is what he’s known all his life. I’m sure while he was growing up many of his male role-models did the same thing. It has been ingrained in Salvadoran culture that men are unfaithful. It has become culturally acceptable. I believe that in the nature vs. nurture argument, nurture holds more influence in determining who we become. In my mind I think that if I were brought up in the same circumstances and by the same people as my friend, I would not act any differently.

Emotionally, I absolutely hate what he’s doing. I know his wife and she’s an amazing person. I hate that he cheats, but I hate even more that he cheats on her. There will be times when I’m hanging out with him and his family, feeling good about life and enjoying his company, when out of nowhere my conscience will start reminding me of what he does when he’s drunk. Despite his good characteristics, it is almost impossible for me to overlook his infidelity.

My boss brought up the idea of universally human morals—morals that stretch across borders and cultures. We both expressed the hope that there are some things that are undoubtedly right or wrong. If this were the case, it would allow judgment without having to take culture into account. That is, one could not be pardoned because he/she did not know an action was wrong.

We both wanted to identify fidelity as one of those universal human morals. It seems that a cheating husband must know that his infidelity hurts his wife, whether it is culturally acceptable or not. But I sit here and I don’t know what to write next, because I’m not sure whether or not he knows his cheating is hurtful to his wife or if this is even something that is thought about. Culture is so influential in human development I wonder if something that to me seems so obviously wrong can be insignificant in the eyes of my Salvadoran friend. I wish it were something I could discuss comfortably with Salvadorans and expect truthful answers, but I’m not sure it is.

So this is where my internal conflict remains. I’m not sure I can accuse my friend of doing something he knows is wrong because I’m not sure he feels it’s wrong (or at least as wrong as I feel it is.) And even if he does know it’s wrong and hurtful but does it any way, where does that leave me? It leaves me conflicted I guess.

So where does cultural sensitivity fit in to all of this? It seems I should fight against things I believe to be unjust. I feel I should criticize my friend for betraying his wife and kids by getting drunk and going to a brothel. But cultural sensitivity and acceptance would dictate that I am a foreigner and it is not my place to change a culture that is not mine. Me imposing on others what I believe to be right and wrong feels a lot like missionaries going door to door trying to change people’s religious beliefs—something I am strongly against.

I give up on this blog post. As I wrote at the beginning, it’s an incomplete thought that I’m working through. I thought I’d put it up so someone smarter than I am could send me all the answers. I’m waiting…

Conflict

2008-06-02T09:18:00.000-07:00

The rain has begun. The first day I was quite happy; by the 5^th straight rainy day I was cursing the same God I had been praying to for the rain to begin.

Like most weather, the rain is a blessing and a curse. It means cooler days, greener landscape, and the start of the planting season (very important in community that relies on agriculture for its well-being.) The rain also means laundry doesn’t dry and begins to smell musty, the dirt roads and pathways become mud pits and, most dangerously, the rain means flooding.

My house is located on the corner of the main road through my community (small dirt road), and a side road (smaller dirt road) to a group of houses down below. The natural run of the water is down the side road. At the end of last year’s rainy season, the people living down below built a cement ramp essentially blocking the water from running down the side road towards their houses. Not much was thought about the ramp until last week when it became apparent that without an exit for the water to run, a lake was forming on the main road. By the end of last week the lake covered the entire road for a stretch of 30 meters and a depth of 3 feet. The bus could no longer pass, horses and cows had to be coaxed/dragged through the water, and people were climbing through barbed wire fences to go through my yard and my neighbor’s yard in order to get to the other side. Obviously something had to be done.

On Friday, with the heaviest of the rains falling and the lake rising, a group of men gathered to help me and my neighbor build walls of mud to prevent the lake from overflowing into our yards. As we were standing around looking at our finished work, a woman passed by saying that if we weren’t man enough to break the cement ramp then she would do it herself. In the machismo culture of rural El Salvador, this was more than enough to get the wheels spinning. With much fanfare and lots of self-satisfied and manly grunting and back-slapping, it was decided that the cement ramp would come down at 8am the next morning.

I was very much in favor of draining the lake. Standing water brings mosquitoes and flies which bring Dengue Fever and Malaria. I was also in favor of banging sledgehammers and picks and shovels in a muddy, manly mess. My excitement for the next day came crashing down when a couple of the residents from down below came to my house to ask for help in preventing the destruction of the ramp. They told me they built the ramp to prevent the flooding of their houses. I told them we definitely have to figure out a solution, and that I would try to organize a meeting with the ADESCO (town council) before any action takes place. I ran around the rest of the evening talking to ADESCO members about planning a meeting. They all reassured me that it was all talk, and no one was going to destroy the ramp. They, of course were wrong.

The next morning at 8am sharp (the first time in my year in country that something has started on time) a group of 15 people showed up to bust up the ramp.

I watched (didn’t participate) as the ramp was busted, the lake was drained and people were happy. The people living down below didn’t show up, but everyone kept looking over their shoulders to see if they would arrive. Salvador is a violent country, and even though everyone knows and respects each other in my community, the possibility for violence can never be ignored.

I’m now in a position of trying to be the peacemaker. Both sides, as normal, are recruiting me to their side. There is no doubt that the ramp had to be busted, but I think something should be done in order to fix the side road so that it doesn’t flood. According to the ramp-busters, all that happens is the side road gets a bit muddy. According to the people living below, the water reaches waist level during the worst of the storms. Obviously, the truth lies somewhere in the middle. We shall see what happens.

More than anything, I was amazed at the lack of conflict resolution skills. Neither side directly contacted the other side to talk. The ramp-busters brought out as many people as possible to do a job that really only took 4 people. They encouraged everyone to at least move one shovel of dirt so no one could claim they had no part in it. The people down below are now saying that they are just going to rebuild the ramp. And the ADESCO, which I would expect to take charge of the situation, only claims that the people down below would refuse to show up to a meeting anyways, so why try.

I’m looking at this as a good opportunity. I’m certain we can figure out a cheap way to fix the side road and I’m hoping to get the ramp-breakers involved in helping the people below. I’m looking forward to easing some tension. “Just easing the tension baby, just easing the tension.”

**************************UPDATE********************************

I wrote this yesterday morning. This morning I woke up to see the people from below re-cementing the ramp. What will happen? We shall see.

Public Speaking

2008-04-29T10:37:00.000-07:00

I hate public speaking. Hate it. I even hate speaking that is hardly public—like in front of a class of 15 classmates at a small, private liberal arts school—makes my knees shake. I consider myself a reasonable person and try to convince myself of the irrationality of my fear. I mean, I make an ass out of myself daily so what does it matter if I flub up a speech in front of a few people. I’ll forget about it 15 minutes after I finish. No big deal right? Well despite this very logical line of thinking, my knees still shake when my name I’m asked to talk in front of people. Very irrational, I know, but most fears are.

Last Thursday we held a community-wide meeting. Our town council is being sued over a piece of land that was bought 7 years ago to locate the pump that provides water to the community. The son of the owner of the land claims that the terms of the agreement were not met by the town council. As a result, he is suing for $20,000, a ridiculous amount to ask for the size of the land sold. Our council has documents proving that we met the terms of the agreement. It seems this person has no chance in court, but nonetheless he has caused an uproar. Running water is not a given in El Salvador, especially for communities as small and rural as mine. The water project is a sense of pride for the community, making this lawsuit a hot topic.

I sat in for the council’s planning of the general meeting. As the agenda was being set, one of the council members suggested that I be slated to say a few words. I explained that I know very little about the entire situation. It is true that the first Peace Corps volunteer in the community had a huge hand in the water project. “But,” I tried to explain, “I was still in high school at the time. I had no hand in the water project and know nothing about the original contract for the plot of land.” I convinced a few of the council members, but people still wanted me to speak. This is not abnormal as a Peace Corps volunteer. Political parties, churches, businesses, town councils, even feuding families try to align themselves with us. I always try to be as non-committal as possible—everything is nice…I like you but I like them also…can’t we all just get along?... etc. By the end of the council meeting I was under the impression that I would not be on the agenda.

Fast forward to last Thursday, the day of the meeting. I immediately check the agenda to see that I’m slated to give the closing remarks. It’s a good thing I still generally show up for things on time in a country where everything starts at least 45 minutes late because it meant I had time to think of what to say. Of course I wrote something down just to be ready for a potential freeze up on stage; something that’s not out of the ordinary for me.

The meeting went fine. About 100 community members showed up, a good turnout. The lawsuit was explained. A few members of the town council gave their commentary. The mic was opened up for questions and comments and everyone pledged their support to the town council. Then I was introduced to “offer my thoughts on the situation.”

I’m going to provide a basic transcript of what I said, but I must first offer a disclaimer. Public speaking here is always formal here. Even during the questions and comments section of a community meeting people still follow a set format. First you have to wish everyone a good morning/afternoon/evening. Then you have to thank the esteemed members of the government/policy/town council/school/business/etc. for showing up and offering their support. Next you have to compliment the organizers of the meeting/event for putting on such a beautiful meeting/event. Only then can you get to the point. 3 bonus points are given for each new way you can come up with to say what you just finished saying. 5 bonus points are given for every reference to God. Cheesiness is not a concept.

So what follows is a rough translation of what I said with some commentary in italics:

“I hope that everyone has a very good afternoon. First I want to thank the town council for including me on the agenda (actually, not really). I think it’s important for us to remember that the work they do is not for free. They don’t make any money (+3 repetition). They meet for the good of the entire community.
I also want to thank all of you for the support and friendship that you have shown me for the past 8 months. I feel so lucky to be in this beautiful community with such caring and f friendly neighbors. Every day I give thanks to God (+5 God reference) that I have found such a wonderful place to live and work.
I can’t speak too much about the subject at hand, because I was not here for the implementation of the water project. I can say that I know how hard everyone has worked on the water project and how important it is for the community. Water is life (remember, cheesiness is not a concept). Water gives life (+ 3) to everything: the trees, the animals, all of us. It is important that we keep working to ensure that there will always be water in our community. I hope we can find a solution to this problem that everyone can agree on, and if not, then a solution that is just.
Thank you for your attention and I’m going to sit down now because I hate speaking in front of large groups (polite laughter).”

After sitting down, one of the council members got on the microphone to say, “We know you weren’t here for the implementation of the water project. We put you on the agenda hoping you would say a little bit about the bakery project that you are working on.” He laughed, everyone laughed. Once again I made an ass out of myself. Oh well, just another day in the life.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

2008-04-16T09:47:00.000-07:00

Peace Corps is a life-changing experience. Or at least so I have been told from publications, recruiters, current volunteers, former volunteers, and even my friends and family at home. I have now been in the Peace Corps for over 10 months and I am still waiting (a little uneasily) to see how my life will be changed. Will I adopt the machismo culture and become a misogynist? Or will I abandon my reservedly agnostic beliefs in favor of Catholicism or Evangelism? Maybe I will take to spending my spare change on cheap moonshine and drink myself into a stupor every chance I get. Or I might fall in love with a woman and be engaged before the midpoint of my service.

Though I can’t predict the future, I think it’s a safe bet that my grand change (if I have one) will not be any of the previously mentioned. Yet, I have observed all four of these events (to varying degrees) in my fellow volunteers. Claiming these are changes is admittedly an assumption on my part as I did not know these people before their service. There is the possibility that for the 3 months of training, when I had regular contact with my fellow volunteers, they kept these behaviors on the backburner. This, however, seems unlikely.

I want to make clear that even though in this post I am and will be focusing on changes that I consider to be unhealthy, the overwhelming majority of personal development Peace Corps volunteers talk about and demonstrate is nothing but positive. And the examples I’ve given above are seen only through my eyes. Each situation could be defended or judged in a number of ways; I am simply offering my observations from my own limited perspective.

So why these negative changes? To borrow a line from Walter, John Goodman's character, in The Big Lebowski, “That’s just the stress talkin.’”* The Peace Corps experience, whether it be in a city in Eastern Europe or a backcountry African village, is physically, emotionally and psychologically stressful. Volunteers are alone. Even if they live with families and are warmly welcomed into their community, they have still left behind what they know and are comfortable with in the states. They are surrounded by a foreign language, a foreign culture, foreign foods, foreign diseases, and very little direction on what to do and how to do it. This is the nature of the volunteer experience, and being able to successfully overcome these stresses is part of what makes the Peace Corps experience so rewarding.

These stresses must be dealt with. Everyone knows recommended mechanisms for dealing with stress: exercise, talk to someone, yoga, etc. Nonetheless, everyone, at times, deals with stress badly. It is inevitable. Fortunately, stress is temporary, and hopefully the coping mechanisms used (if bad ones) are temporary as well. This is why it worries me to see my fellow volunteers making big changes in their lives in such a short amount of time. I think it must be recognized that we are living under sustained levels of stress, and for that reason, we must deeply examine changes in our behaviors, thoughts and beliefs. Looking at the examples I have provided, I wonder what will happen in each situation when the volunteer returns back to the U.S. Will the misogynist continue his ways causing a clash with a U.S. culture that is not nearly as accepting of demeaning attitudes towards women? Will the drinker continue to use alcohol as a coping mechanism, i.e., become an alcoholic? And will the religious convert and the fiancé retain such strong feelings when returning to the U.S.?

I hope I don’t sound as though I am resistant to change, because I am not. I don’t believe that any person or thing is perfect and could not benefit from positive change. I simply think that, especially given the volunteer’s stressful situation, we should be cautious when noticing ourselves changing—even erring on the side of conservatism.

In talking with others, my views have been met with the claim that my caution is preventing me from immersing myself into Salvadoran culture. To this I answer yes and no. There is no way of living where I live and not being immersed in Salvadoran culture (whatever culture really means anyways.) But, I think sometimes cultural immersion is confused with cultural adoption. I will not and can not completely adopt Salvadoran culture. Whether I want to or not, I will never be Salvadoran. This, I think, is important to remember. There are certain things Salvadoran that I wholeheartedly disagree with. I still, on an analytical level, try to understand these things, but that does not change my view of them. Likewise, there are things that I absolutely love and hope to adopt into my own life. This rejection of the bad and acceptance of the good, while always trying to understand why things are as they are, to me, should be the goal of cultural exchange. I don’t believe that, having grown up believing that misogyny and excessive drinking are bad things, one can take a two year hiatus from these beliefs under the guise of adopting the culture of one’s host country. (Insert quote by famous person about the need to stay true to oneself.)

As I’m lying here in my hammock thinking of all the possible grand changes that I might experience, I hope that my change will be more of an evolution. A stronger conviction in my previously held beliefs, a fortification of the good I have developed in the first 23 years of my life, and an adoption of all the good that I am experiencing here in El Salvador.

*The Big Lebowski reference seems completely unnecessary, except that it is always necessary to refer to The Big Lebowski.

Nathalia's Post

2008-04-08T09:32:00.000-07:00

Last week I visited Mike at his site in Las Trancas, Usulutan. In one week I had great experiences which are going to be difficult for me to put into words, but I'll try.

I had a red eye flight so I arrived on Good Friday morning pretty bleary eyed but very excited. I hadn't traveled to a different country other than Canada in something like 6 years, and I was a bit nervous about just the process, but I made it.

After a very windy and loud (windows down, radio up high, driving between 60-70 mph) car ride by a very nice neighbor, I finally got to see Mike's house and the much revered hammock.

The house is small and about as rustic as I had thought, but nice. It's the dusty season outide and in the house too, and it was quite hot, about the 90s all day. I'll complain but I really do prefer the heat to the cold.

Anyway, to keep this from growing to extreme lengths, I'll give a few highlights:

-going to the church for a procession my first night there and being invited to go up to the altar to get a piece of scented cotton. I couldn't really say no but didn't want to go alone, so I made someone walk with me, much to his chagrin.

- going to Alegria, a small pueblo on a volcano. It was a bit cooler here and we ate at a restaurant with an amazing view but the best part was the zoo they had on site that had a parrot, a racoon, two foxes and some rabbits.

- I fell in love with one of the dogs that came to Mike's backdoor.

- learning how to make pupusas with Fatima who lives next door and is incredibly nice.

- the cheese pills; my mother asked me for cheese pills, after some jokes, we found them but had no idea how they work and my mother didn't explain well to me, so I asked the Fatima and she showed me how to make it, which was amazing. Although we thought we lost the pills on the bus and Fatima got us one, they showed up a few days after I left.

- the neighbor kids were hilarious and came over almost every day wanting to play Uno which Mike's mom had sent with me, a stroke of brilliance on her part because they couldn't get enough.

- making pizza with kids from the school which was chaotic and a great time. There were about 20 kids all under 12 and about 5 of the little girls were latched onto me somehow, but I was pretty interested in looking at the animals around the yard (pigs and cows and a cat, definite attractions for me) so they were all trooping around with me. It was a crazy afternoon but a lot of fun and I felt very popular with my fans.

We spent the last two days in a comfy hotel in the capital. On the last day there was a peace corps soccer game fundraiser about an hour out and Mike basically was the team, with one assist and one goal, so everyone was pretty stoked.

I had an absolutely amazing time and it is obvious to me that Mike's community is really appreciative of his presence and just plain old happy to have someone to chat with and get to know. I'm looking forward to my next visit, slated for July. I highly suggest making this trip if possible, it was great to put images and places and faces to things I had heard about and it was also just really great to see Mike.

Nathalia's Visit

2008-04-04T09:22:00.000-07:00

I’m going to keep this post relatively short because Nathalia will be making her own post about her visit, and I also just posted a way too long post below.

As most of you know, Nathalia came out to visit me from the 21^st-29^th. It being holy week when she got here, I paid a guy in my community gas money to take me in his car to pick her up. On the way out there, I got to hear all about his courtship of his now wife, which was limited to 2 hours a week of supervised visits for the first few months. (Know that this is not normal. This man is a very religious Evangelical Christian. Very nice man, but also very, very religious.) I started getting very nervous about how to greet Nathalia. I decided on a firm handshake, but she blew it by hugging me and kissing me.

I’ll let her tell what we did during her visit. What she probably won’t say, due to modesty, is that my town absolutely loved her. Maybe more so than me. It was a blast having her here, and people are already asking me when she is coming back again, and why she doesn’t just move here. Yesterday, I had a lady in my community tell me she was upset with me because I didn’t introduce her to Nathalia. She then gave me a bag of mangos. I wonder what I would have gotten if I had introduced her.

Fiestas Patronales and Semana Santa

2008-04-04T09:20:00.000-07:00

I recently learned that March, in my community, is the greatest month of the year. The main reason for this is we have our Fiestas Patronales in March. Every Catholic church in the country has a patron saint, and each patron saint has a time of the year in which they are celebrated. Our saint is San Jose, and our time of the year was from March 11^th-19^th. Most churches are located in pueblos, so Fiestas Patronales are generally big celebrations with tons of fireworks, dances in the evenings, contests, etc. Since our Fiestas were celebrated in our canton, things were on a much smaller scale, which to me, was a lot more fun.

Each day, from the 11^th-19^th, there were processions in the afternoons followed by mass. The processions start from a designated house, follow the main road through the canton, and end up at the church. At the front are four men carrying a statue on their shoulders as you would imagine an ancient Roman goddess to be carried. Behind them, everyone else follows, singing songs about Jesus and San Jose led by three women on a megaphone and a man accompanying them on the guitar. In the very back (where I usually hang out) are men with fireworks, shooting them off every 20 yards or so.

At mass, 75% of the people sit inside, and the remaining 25%, again mostly men and again including me, hang out outside, joking and talking about futbol and women. Throughout mass, fireworks are continually set off for emphasis during various parts of the sermon.

This is how things went the 11^th-18^th. The 19^th, being the last day, was different. The day’s events started with a procession at 4am (I did not attend) complete with singing and fireworks. Then, I assume everyone went back to bed until 2pm when the festivities at the church began again. The main attraction was the crowning of the reina (queen) of the Fiestas Patronales. The crowning of the reina is a common Salvadoran fundraiser where a number of candidates will sell votes (a quarter a piece), and the one who sells the most votes is queen. In all the crownings of reinas that I have seen, the candidates are young, attractive, single girls between 15 and 20 years old. For our Fiestas, the candidates were all women over 60. It was one of the neatest things I have seen since being here. They were all dressed up, people were cheering the hearts out for all of them, and there was nothing but smiles. The winner was hugged by everyone and received a scepter and a crown to wear while sitting up front in a seat of honor during mass.

After mass, was the final procession (this time at night) with a number of fireworks, and nearly the entire community walking. People kept talking about the torito (little bull) and asking me if I was going to manejar (drive) it. I wasn’t completely sure what they were asking me, but I assumed there was going to be some bull riding. I actually convinced myself that I’d give it a go, and was even kind of looking forward to it with some adrenaline pumping. When we arrived at the church, the announced it was time for the torito. Turns out, the torito is a bamboo structure that can be worn over someone’s head (think a Chinese dragon.) The torito is covered with sparklers, so when it is lit, sparks are shooting out all over. “That’s cool” I thought, “but I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” Ah, how naïve I was. As the sparklers burned down, they began to ignite fireworks that shot out in all directions from the torito. So, here you have someone running through a crowd of a couple hundred people (old women and young children included) with fireworks shooting off of it in all directions. It was nuts. I was crouched behind a wall laughing as the torito ran away from me, and praying as it was running towards me. 4 people were burned and it was not lamented or unexpected—just a risk of religion I guess.

Semana Santa, which starts the Monday before Easter and lasts for a week, was not nearly as exciting. Once the Fiestas ended, there were still daily masses, but not nearly as fun.

This month, I attended more Church than I have in years. And you know what, it was worth it. I’m willing to attend mass all year, crossing myself when I enter Church and the soccer field—basically, I’m willing to be Catholic—if it means I get to laugh at and hide from the torito again next year.

Panaderia

2008-03-07T10:39:00.000-08:00

Over the last 4 weeks, about 10 women from my community have been going to the office of a local NGO to learn how to make bread. I went with them a couple of times, and it was a blast. They are very excited about making it. Even more than that, they were excited about how well it sold when they brought it back to the community. The most recent time, last Tuesday, we actually made a profit on what they made in their classes. Obviously you would expect this, but each previous time some of the batches didn't come out right so they couldn't be sold. Now that the classes are over, these women are going go to the NGO office every Tuesday to practice and bring back what they make to sell in the community.

Oh, and I had my doctor's appointment today; I have a brain and he says it's in working order.

My 4 Days in the Capital

2008-03-03T08:54:00.000-08:00

Over the past few months I have been suffering from occasional dizzy spells, fainting on three of those occasions. The first time I fainted, I went into the capital for a consultation and blood work. Nothing was found, so we assumed I was probably just suffering from a virus or a bit of exhaustion. After fainting twice more, the Peace Corps Medical Office (PCMO) set up an appointment for me to see a neurologist. The neurologist recommended three tests, all of which I had done last Thursday.

The first test involved electrodes being hooked up on my chest and all over my head to monitor my brain function. I was told to lie down in a dimly lit room and close my eyes. After about 15 minutes, as I was falling asleep, a strobe light was turned on. I wonder if the technician, reading my brainwaves on the computer, could tell how much I wanted to take the strobe light and bash it against the wall.

The second test was a CAT scan. All that involved was me lying on a table that then moved so that my head was inside of the machine. 5 minutes into that, I was injected with something (I assume some sort of dye that shows up in the images) and 5 minutes later, I was done.

My third test was by far the weirdest. This time, I entered a room with two computers manned by a doctor and his assistant who had an inappropriately short skirt and equally inappropriately high heels. Still recovering from the dress code in this office, I was instructed to take off my shirt and shoes and lie down on the table. Again electrodes were connected to my head and chest. I was told to close my eyes, and the doctor began reading off numbers to his assistant. Then, with my eyes still closed, I was strapped into the table with two large velcro straps, one across my chest and the other across my legs. I'm definitely not a paranoid person, but I began to wonder why it was necessary to strap me in. Were they going to shock me so hard I would jump? Was I going to have a seizure? With my eyes still closed, I felt and heard the table begin to move, until it was perpendicular to the floor--eseentially standing me upright. More numbers being read, more data recorded, a few more tests, and I was done for the day. The doctor was out of the country, so I won't get the results until I meet with him sometime later this week.

Because I had a Peace Corps meeting Saturday, I stayed in the capital all day Friday. The capital is great for a day, but gets really boring really quickly. Don't get me wrong, I love having my Quizno's sub every chance I get (for lunch and dinner Thursday, and yes, the employees recognized I had come in twice that day), but San Salvador gets really old really quickly.

When there for medical or offical reasons, Peace Corps puts us up in one of two hotels. This means there are always other volunteers at these hotels. I have yet to meet a mean volunteer, but they definitely range from people I really enjoy hanging out with, to people who bore me a bit, to people who annoy the hell out of me. The fact that we have Peace Corps in common makes it difficult not to be social. So often, I am forced to have conversations with people I'm not very interested in for a lot longer than I would like.

My meeting Saturday went well, and my boss had us over for delicious lasagna, salad, and garlic bread Saturday night. 5 beers and I was done for the night. By Sunday morning I was exhausted and very happy to travel back to my site. Here I am, and life is good. Love to all.

I really do work, I promise

2008-02-28T14:23:00.001-08:00

As promised, a post about what I do that resembles work here in El Salvador.

One of Peace Corps goals in its mission statement is to promote cross-cultural understanding. There is a large emphasis placed on just being there, in the community, developing relationships and understanding what it's like to be Salvadoran and providing Salvadorans with a glimpse into what it's like to be American. This means, I can call it working when I play soccer, hang out in front of my house chatting, or eat dinner with my neighbors. As nice as that is, I feel a definite pressure (not sure if it's from myself or from others) to "make a difference."

So what am I doing to make a difference? The most exciting (and most difficult) project I'm working on right now is a panaderia (bakery) for my community. At least two times a day, trucks come through the community selling bread, never lacking business. It would make sense that we bake our own bread and keep our money within the community. Unfortunately, starting a panederia is turning out to be more difficult than I had anticipated. I am writing a grant proposal to USAID to provide us with about 2000 dollars which will buy ovens, mixers, and pans. The grant stipulates that the community must contribute 25% of the total cost (labor, location, materials, etc. count), so I am also working to organize some fundraisers so we can meet that 25%. The exciting part is that an NGO offered to provide bread-making workshops for women in our community. I went to one of the workshops on Tuesday, and it was a blast to see the enthusiasm they had for making the bread---and it was pretty damn good bread too. Hopefully this project will pan out (pun intended) in the next 2 months.

A smaller, but currently much more enjoyable project that I'm working on is teaching English in the school to kindergarten through 3rd grade. I don't have a curriculum I'm following, so pretty much I just wing it and teach basic vocab, but I always do it in the form of some sort of game: simon says, competitions, 'head, shoulders, knees, and toes' etc. The kids as well as the teachers love having a break from their normal methods of teaching (lots of writing on the board and copying word for word into notebooks).

Finally, we recently held a vote to elect what essentially is a student council that will also work in the community. Our first meeting is going to be this week, and I'm hoping to organize social projects as well as fun activities for the youth in the community through this group. We've talked about planning trips, having cleaning campaigns, and working on a library. It's a great group of kids, and I look forward to working with them.

Well that's all I feel like writing about work. I worry is sounds a bit bland, but it's actually a blast--maybe just a bit indescribable. Love to all.

Just one more...

2008-02-19T23:53:00.000-08:00

I promised last time no more soccer posts until I write about my work, but this story is a little too ridiculous to not tell. It's short.

Our last game of the season, two weeks ago, was meaningless for us, but very important for our opponent. A win or tie for them would save them from relegation. But if our oppenent, 'Team A', lost, then another team, 'Team B', would be saved from relegation. Before the game, representatives from both Team A and Team B approached us. Team A was willing to offer 100 dollars if we would agree, before kick-off, that we were going to throw the game. Team B, knowing this might happen, had sent a representative to match any offers Team A might give us for us to win the game. So we could have decided to take a sure thing (100 dollars from Team A to lose the game) or to play to win, rejecting Team A's offer, but still receiving 100 dollars from Team B if we were victorious. I'm proud to say, our team decided to play to win.

Unfortunately, the ref was very obviously paid off by Team A. He called a decent game until we went up 1-0. All of a sudden, every call was against us, and a clear goal was called back by some phantom foul. Finally, a PK was called against us (another phantom call) and the game ended a 1-1 tie.

Salvadoran soccer, gotta love it.

Hold onto your hats...

2008-02-09T08:29:00.000-08:00

…because this post is going to be a long one.

We’ll start with soccer. Today is the last game of the season, and my team has saved itself from relegation. We are currently in the third division and we will continue there. The way the Salvadoran professional league works, is there are 5 divisions, and the top team from each division moves up and the bottom team drops down a division. For a while were tied with three other teams for the bottom spot in our division, but we fought our way back in the last four games and are now assured to stay put in the third division. Second division gets publicized in newspapers and some games are shown on TV, so maybe we’ll win third division next season and move up, but I’m not counting on it.

Last week we had an away game against our cross town rival. Not only that, but our goalie and another player from last year had switched to their team in the off-season. This was a big game and we needed a good result to not be relegated. We had beaten them earlier in the season, so they were playing for pride. We brought two big trucks of supporters, and they had a bunch of fans as well. The field is completely surrounded by a chain link fence that is only about 3 yards beyond the boundaries. People lined up around the entire perimeter of the field pressed up against the fence—many of whom were drunk and belligerent. This scene would have scared me shitless 8 months ago when I first arrived here in El Salvador; last week, it made me as excited about soccer as I have been since college.

The game was a blast and I played phenomenally. Some highlights:

Our goalie, trying to stop their first goal, dove into the post headfirst. When people helped him up, he promptly stumbled backwards and crumpled to the ground. After a few minutes, people sat him up again and his eyes started to wobble and go back in his head like he was going to pass out again. 5 minutes later, he got up, ran a sprint to show he was okay, and played the rest of the game. This never would have happened in the U.S.

About 15 minutes later, I beat a defender and was taken down by another one right outside of the penalty box. We scored on the ensuing free kick. In the second half, I scored the go-ahead goal with a shot from about 15 yards out. The crowd went nuts.

With about 10 minutes left in the game, they were correctly awarded a penalty kick, but my team was certain we were being cheated by the ref (which is always the case if a penalty kick is called against us.) One of our fans/coaches came onto the field to pull back some of our players, but couldn’t restrain from calling the player who used to play for my community a traitor, which started a bit of pushing, but was quickly broken up. They scored to tie it 2-2 with only 10 minutes left. Two minutes later, their goalie came out to collect a ball coming into the box. When he hit the ground, the ball squirted loose, was collected by our player, and put in for the go-ahead goal. The ref, however, admitted he did not see the play, and asked the goalie what happened. Of course the goalie said he was kicked (which he was not, I was right there) and the ref called ‘no goal.’ Both teams went nuts, fans came onto the field, and the game was ended as a 2-2 tie with about 7 minutes left still to play. Even I yelled a bit at the ref, which made me feel like an asshole later.

One would have to be masochistic to want to be a ref in El Salvador. They work by themselves, no lines-men, and are verbally abused no matter how good or bad they are and usually by both teams. They are generally terrible, but nevertheless, they are working in extremely difficult conditions. It seemed like a perfect formula for violence—booze, tons of emotion, a lot of testosterone—but there was never even a hint of violence. Even when people were yelling at the ref, they were not threatening. The pushing match earlier in the game was quickly broken up by both sides. Leaving, opposing fans and players shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. It was fun.

I was going to write about other happenings, but this has already gotten too long. Later in the week maybe I’ll write a bit about work. I promise, I actually am doing some work.

Love to all.

My day with Chino

2008-01-25T08:36:00.000-08:00

Chino is a nickname given to whoever has ‘slanty’ eyes. In our community we have 3 chinos—chino the bus driver, chino grande, y chino pequeno. Chino the bus driver is exactly what his name suggests, chino grande is the older and bigger chino on the soccer team, and chino pequeno is the younger and smaller chino on the soccer team. Makes you wonder why all nicknames aren’t so straightforward.

Let me describe a bit chino grande. The very first day I visited my community I played soccer in the evening. On a field full of sticks and rocks and other players wearing cleats and kicking at anything that moves, chino was running around barefoot, and not backing away from any challenge. At first glance, it was apparent that he was the biggest, fastest, and toughest one out there. Basically, chino is a badass and I was more than a little intimidated by him.

Chino is also one of the mainstays of the group of guys that drink at the corner by my house at night. He’s the one, who whenever he sees me outback washing the dishes, invites me to come over and sit around telling jokes and riddles with him. He’s the one who was offended that Eddie turned down his third helping of radish-onion salad.

In El Salvador, ‘confianza’ is king. ‘Confianza’ translates into confidence or trust. Distrust is so prevalent in this country, it is extremely important to develop confianza and to display it in any way possible—even if that means choking down your third helping of radish-onion salad (Eddie).

Now on to my day with Chino. On Wednesday I was doing some cleaning and other chores around my house. Around lunchtime I went out back to wash some dishes and Chino called me from next door. I went to talk with him, and he was dying to hang out—he was definitely bored, and maybe a little drunk. He suggested we go to Chepe’s house (Chepe is the leader/most respected person in the community) to get some eggs from some sort of fowl (smaller than a chicken, and the eggs look like quail eggs) Chepe keeps. I said sure, and we went over there. Of course I assumed that Chepe would be there, he wasn’t. The door was open, so we walked through his house, which I felt very uncomfortable doing without him being there, looked for some eggs out back in the coup—also uncomfortable—but didn’t find anything. He then asked if I like lifting weights. I said sure, so we walked to another person’s yard and did curls using the cement and steel weight laying out (this, isn’t uncommon and wasn’t uncomfortable—just going into someone’s house when they weren’t there seemed wrong).

After all of this, we walked back to my house. Chino wanted me to come with him to his house to watch a movie. A lot of the guys here get pirated porn movies and watch them, and I assumed that’s what he meant. I said, not today, I have to finish cleaning up my house. He said, c’mon, it’s a good movie, lots of action (which I took to mean sexual action) and again politely declined. Eventually, he mentioned Jackie Chan, and I realized it was a legitimate action movie, but I still declined. Finally, he started saying I don’t have confianza in him. He said he considers me a good friend; we play soccer together, tell jokes and riddles, hang out, but obviously I don’t trust him. I said that’s ridiculous, of course I trust him, but I want to finish my chores around the house. Of course he offers to help me so we can finish and go to his house. I accept, we finish, and we head out to his house.

The DVD player wasn’t working, so he put on some music to ask me if I liked it. First CD was Technotronics ‘Pump up the jam’ which if you have ever heard this CD (think early 90s) you will know it is fantastic and of course I liked it. Second CD was ‘musica romantica.’ So I’m sitting there with the biggest badass in my community listening to love songs and he’s watching me to see my reaction and whether or not I like the music.

From there, he asked me if I like bananas. I said yes, so we chopped down a banana tree (surprisingly easy, at least for him) so he could give me a branch with some 50 bananas on it and then walked back to my house carrying a 40 pound branch of bananas on my back.

The weirdest part of the entire day is that none of it was weird. I learned that people go through Chepe’s house all the time and he has no problem with it. That’s why he leaves his door open. The eggs he keeps in the coup in he back is up for grabs to anyone, and that’s why there were none. Sitting around listening to Spanish love songs, not weird either. And chopping down banana trees—just plain cool obviously.

This past weekend

2008-01-21T09:04:00.000-08:00

Erich, a friend of mine who has finished his service, had his despedida (going away party) Friday night. I had a meeting with the development committee in my community Friday morning and was planning on taking the bus into the capital after the meeting.

First, let me write a bit about these meetings. The committee is a great group and they accomplish a lot in various cantons and caserios within the municipality. Also, the meetings never fail to be hilarious to me. In the December meeting I went to, people were talking about the exploitative ways of large corporations. Furthermore, they were saying, chain restaurants like Pizza Hut and Pollo Campero are overpriced and unhealthy. This, I could agree with, but of course they didn't stop there. Furthermore, they said, according to a study done in Costa Rica, pregnant mothers who eat at Pollo Campero run the risk of giving birth to a gay son, or a daughter that gets her period at a very young age. Yes, someone did actually say this. Myself and the two other volunteers at the meeting just looked at each other all with the same expression--'Did he really just say what we think he did?'

At the meeting last week, the man in charge went over the results of a survey that was given the previous month having to do with the upcoming elections. I am very pro-survey as a way of getting opinions from people who maybe do not speak up as much at the meetings. To give you all a proper idea of what types of questions the survey consisted of, I will give you an example. I think it was question 6: Do you want a peaceful or violent election? Amazingly, 100% of the people chose peace. Question 7: Do you want a candidate that wants to work with the Development Committee or one that will cut our funding? Now what do you think the Development Committee had to say about that? 100% in favor of a candidate who wants to work with them.

After the meeting I got a ride into the capital--which was awesome not having to take a bus--and I spent the night drinking too much and having a good time. I came back to my site Saturday afternoon to find that a note had been slipped under my door. Before even picking it up, I knew it was a love note. Only love notes, and usually those written by junior high or high school girls, are folded in such an impressively complex way. Needless to say I was flattered. These blue eyes get 'em every time.

Political Violence

2008-01-17T09:31:00.000-08:00

Just a quick post, because I'm feeling a bit stressed with work I have to do.

Last Wednesday the mayor of Alegria (a very pretty pueblo up the mountain from me) was shot and killed along with a female collegue of his. It is pretty much assumed that his murder was political. He is part of FMLN, the leftist party. There's a ton of political activity going on right now for the elections at the begginning of 2009. Because of the eletion cycle, a number of municipalities will be voting on mayors and the entire country will be voting on the president, making these the biggest elections since the peace accords were signed in the early nineties.

It is feared that because there is so much at stake, the elections could turn violent. Ironically, I was at a meeting on how to prevent any political violence in our municipality when I found out that the mayor was murdered. Living in a canton, I am thankfully isolated from a lot of the most fervent political activity, and Peace Corps volunteers are prohibited from partaking in any sort of political activity, so there is no need to worry about me. It will all be very interesting I'm sure.

The real violence I have to worry about is on the soccer field (I know you can't hear it, but my voice just transitioned into a more optimistic, joking tone). In my most recent game, I was fouled a number of times and have a nice scrape on my arm to prove it. Also, the referee ended the game early because the opposing fans were on his case. They, of course, were not happy about this, so there was a bit of tension about what they were going to do. Guys from my community came out to stand next to the ref, just in case, but nothing happened...the other team and their fans piled into their pick-ups and went home. One of the men from our community then scolded us that you never leave a ref by himself if he might be in trouble--although there really wasn't any trouble. Also, I was told that I play too cleanly, and I need to push people around more in Salvadoran soccer than I might be used to. I'll let you know how that goes this week.

Transitions

2008-01-10T09:05:00.000-08:00

I went home to Arizona for the holidays. As you might imagine, it was very nice to relax with family and friends with the comforts of nice beds, multiple couches, cable TV, and most importantly a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry that enabled me to gain 7 pounds in two weeks.

I have an amazing family, and it was wonderful to spend the holidays with them. Also, I got to see Nathalia after 7 months, and I guess that was okay too.

The hardest part about going home (both going home to Arizona, and coming back home to El Salvador--I have two homes) is the transition. Going to Arizona is much easier physically. There's air conditioning and heating, an abundance of cars that make for easy and comfortable transportation, good food, etc. However, emotionally, it was a bit trying. Through email and phone I know what is going on with family and friends back at home, but I still remain distant from it. I forget that loved ones are aging--my dog Dina especially :)--and everyone is going through their daily struggles, which to me, seem magnified when I only catch a glimpse of them for a short period of time.

Coming back to El Salvador, then, becomes even harder. At home, I begin to think that I could do a lot to help out my family if I were to move back to AZ. Of course that is not what they want, but sometimes it feels like that is what should be. Add those feelings with a 9 hour plane ride where my luggage was lost plus a 2 hour bus ride only to be greeted by a house full of dust, and emptied of food and clean clothes, and the trip home becomes daunting. Furthermore, having seen my family and friends, I no longer am able to distance myself from them--meaning my thoughts stay with them a lot longer after visits than after emails and phone calls.

However, I have now been back for a week and am feeling okay, so I think this transition is running about as smoothly as it should. It helps that the airline found my bags so now I have clean clothes. Even more than that, it helps that I have a tree to chop up with my machete this afternoon--definitely my favorite chore ever.

This is my life...

2007-12-10T08:31:00.000-08:00

With my recent visitor, I was able to catch a glimpse of my life in El Salvador through his eyes. I was eased into my current situation through ten weeks of training, which, I think, led to me overlooking some of the drastic changes I have undergone. What follows is a brief list of things that constitute my daily life, that to him were surprising. I hope you will either excuse or enjoy my attempts at humor.

I have chickens in my backyard from 4am until 6pm. I also, periodically, have tarantulas. I have learned that chickens eat tarantulas.

My next door neighbor has a huge pig tied to a rope in her backyard. Pigs are the most disgusting animals I have ever seen. Don’t let Disney fool you with Babe the talking, sheep-herding pig or Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web. This pig can’t speak except to squeal for food, and even spiders are disgusted by it. Rather than Charlotte writing “Amazing pig” in her web, I woke up the other morning with a message in a freshly spun web saying “Aren’t you hungry for some bacon? Please butcher this nasty pig for its delicious meat.”

A recent soccer game was stopped twice: the first time to ask the opposing fans with machetes to scoot back from the field, and the second time to shoo two cows off the field. In their flight, the cows ran directly at my friend Eddie, providing entertainment for everyone.

In a more recent soccer game, a ball that was destined to roll out of bounds hit a chicken and remained in play.

Last week I was invited to go hunting for rabbits, iguanas, and armadillos with some folks from my community. The plan was to leave in the middle of the night—six of us with one gun—wearing long sleeves and long pants so that the spiders and scorpions wouldn’t bite or sting us. Unfortunately, our little safari never came through…maybe next time.

Eddie plans on bringing his favorite Salvadoran greeting back to the States in its translated form. If you do not know Eddie and get the privilege of meeting him, you will get to hear “Edward Johan Powers at your service.”

Bolos (read drunks) have an uncanny knack for finding gringos in a crowd. During an AIDS awareness day in another pueblo, Eddie was spotted by the local drunk. He sat, staring at Eddie for 15 minutes straight, opening and closing his mouth but saying nothing and blinking his eyes incessantly. He then, without warning, flopped to the ground for a 5 minute nap, woke up and continued staring at Eddie. This was repeated three times consecutively.

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This is my second blog post of the day (a record for me) so make sure you scroll down to read the one below...it's the better of the two.

Big Ed's Post

2007-12-10T08:25:00.000-08:00

So I asked my friend Eddie to write a post that I could put up on my blog...here it is in all it's unedited glory. (I'm actually reluctant to put it up, because I think he writes better than I do).
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The most important thing to know is that the people in Mike`s town are all incredibly friendly and they all like Mike a lot. Especially the doctor in the nearby town who is shamelessly pursuing him. But, it is not only the females who are enamored with Mike. The old men who carry machetes at all times are thrilled when Mike stops to talk to them. As are the little kids. Some of the guys on the soccer team like nothing better than for Mike to join them as they sit around, drink some painfully strong alcohol, and tell jokes. Mike has become very adept at handling all these situations, courteous yet distant with the doctor, very complimentary towards the old men, and patient with the young ones who have a knack for coming over as soon as you settle in the hammock. Sitting and telling jokes with the guys from the team is endlessly amusing, yet much more difficult than it sounds. Mike manages quite well, but I somehow ended up hurting some feelings by not laughing hard enough at jokes I didn`t understand and by refusing my third helping of tomato-radish salad.

There are many things that Mike may have already mentioned that are worth mentioning again, mainly the soccer games. The fields are lined with a couple hundred men with machetes, vendors selling pupusas, little kids lighting off extremely loud fireworks, and usually some cows or horses. The quality of play is not of the highest level, but is more than made up for by the environment. The opportunity to play for Mike in one game was incredible, even though due to some questionable referring and poor finishing I was unable to forever cement myself in the town`s lore. Perhaps even more enjoyable than the game itself are the rides to the away games. Everyone piles into the back of the pick-up trucks, all the guys make kissy noises at the girls, and you are treated to some rather spectacular views of the volcanoes and the ocean. There really are few things better.

Another point worth reiterating is the merits of hammocks. The purchase of a second hammock was a much needed addition to Mike`s shack. If you do visit, though, make sure you get the old one as Mike has yet to master the skill of successfully hanging a hammock.

It is not all sunshine and daisies in El Salvador though. The roosters and cows have a tendency to start making lots of noise at about 4 in the morning, and the 6 am bus likes to honk its horn loudly.The buses have a tendency to get really crowded and are not made for people taller than 5`6. Fortunately, if you are tall and don`t have very good balance the old ladies will give up their seat for you. It is also very hot and there is a lot of dust. The dust gets all over your clothes and you have to wash them by hand which is not very fun. I would recommend having Mike wash them for you as he has mastered that skill.

The trip was really quite nice. If you want to pretend you are in the Peace Corps without actually having to do it for two years, I would go visit Mike. Especially, now that he has a second hammock.

Youth Group Pizza

2007-12-05T12:28:00.001-08:00

As I mentioned in the last post, Eddie and I spent the first three days of his visit getting ready for a youth group meeting that I had planned for that Saturday. Getting ready basically consisted of going door to door to invite youth to the meeting. This actually turned out to be a pretty exhausting endeavor as my community is pretty spread out. But it also turned out to be worth it. That Saturday I had about 16 kids between the ages of 10 and 16 (or so) show up in my backyard for a meeting. We sat and talked for about 30 minutes about what sorts of things they are interested in (taking day-trips, english classes, ways to make money). After the meeting, we walked to a neighbor's house who owns an outdoor oven and we baked pizza. Now, the most complex pizza either Eddie or I have ever made consisted of Prego tomato sauce, Boboli pizza crust, already shredded mozzerella cheese, and already sliced pepperonis. This experience turned out to be a bit different.

The day before, Eddie and I bought a ton of flour, yeast, two kinds of Salvadoran cheese, tomato sauce, and salami (in place of pepperoni). That Saturday morning we woke up early to make the dough while leaving ample time for it to rise. We were a bit worried that that yeast we bought was really baking soda and that the dough would never rise. Actually, we had a friendly competition on whose dough would rise more, but then we forgot which was which after leaving it out to rise. Eddie claims he won, but I'm pretty sure I did. Fortunately, the dough did rise (at least a little bit) and we were ready to make our pizza. The kids loved spreading the sauce and adding mountains of salami. Then, after my neighbor hacked down a tree with his machete to use as fire wood for his outdoor woodburning oven, we were ready to cook. Having no idea how long to cook pizza in a woodburning, outdoor oven, we guessed about 10 minutes and amazingly enough, it came out great...'Mejor que Pizza Hut y Dominos' according to some.

It was actually quite fun to make, and it was nice having Eddie there to help me. The idea is to start making pizzas to sell to fans at the community soccer games as a way to fund our youth group. That is if I can get the kids not to eat it all first.

Big Ed

2007-11-30T12:21:00.000-08:00

My buddy from college, Eddie, flew in from Costa Rica to visit me last Wednesday. Since he wanted a taste of Peace Corps life, I put him to work immediately. The first three days he was here, we prepared for my first youth group meeting. This meant walking door to door through my community inviting kids to the meeting, buying ingredients to make pizza at the meeting, and lying on the hammock. Though that last one may not seem like a necessary chore to prepare for a youth group meeting, I have found that here in El Salvador, it is absolutely necessary to lie on the hammock in preparing for anything. And this meant buying a second hammock--one for him and one for me.

Eddie has been admired by numerous local women--his tall stature and blonde locks do him quite well here. He has also been recruited to play soccer professionally on my team. In fact, because I am recovering from a pulled groin, it was suggested that we replace my picture with his on my player's card so he can play the next game as me. I'm not going to lie, I was a bit insulted by this:)

Big Ed and I also celebrated Thanksgiving together (though a day late) and traveled to an island for two nights, and a Peace Corps party in the capital. But alas, all of these stories will have to wait for another entry in a few days.

Hope all is well.

Happenings 2...

2007-11-06T11:42:00.000-08:00

I am writing here from the capital where I have been since Sunday evening (today is Tuesday) and will be until tomorrow. On Sunday, I went to my first (maybe ever?) Catholic mass. I had been feeling a little bit sick the night before, but I figured nothing God wouldn't be able to cure for me. About midway through the service I started feeling a nauseous (sp?) and decided it was a good idea not to puke inside of a house of the holy. I stood up and walked out the side door, got very dizzy, and promptly passed out against the wall of the church. Thankfully, my neighbor was out there making pupusas, noticed me quite quickly, and caught me and brought me over to a chair. After sitting for a while, I was able to regain my bearings and went home to rest. Later that day, I came into the capital where I have been ever since having tests and doctor's appointments. I have felt fine ever since Monday, but it's good to get everything checked out. I think it was just a virus that, combined with heat and a bit of sleep deprivation, got the best of me. Or it could have been the holy spirit that moved me. One of the two.

Another story...the best player on our soccer team can no longer play with us (at least not in the home games) because he stole someone's cell phone who lives in our community (the player lives in a different community), and will either be arrested or beat up if they see him.

I'm sure there's something else to write about, but my mind is drawing a blank, so I think I'm going to go eat at Quizno's and catch a movie--wait, am I in El Salvador? Gotta love globalization!!!

Happenings...

2007-10-20T09:37:00.000-07:00

A few random anecdotes (not at all in any sort of chronological order)

Earlier this week, after playing soccer, I came home and went out back to shower. It was already dark, so I didn't bother wearing shorts and instead wrapped myself in my towel. Well, about halfway through my shower, I heard 'Buenas Noches.' I looked over to see an elderly woman with a plate of food standing by my back door. Not knowing what to do, I turned off the shower, wrapped myself in my towel, and with soap still dripping down my body, stepped out to talk with her. Of course this made for quite an awkward moment, but also a pretty nice one. She told me that she lives close and that she thought I might like some dinner. It's nice to be so well-taken care of here.

A couple of weeks ago, after a soccer game, I hung out in front of my neighbor's house with a few of my teammates and a few other guys as they all drank 'guaro' (moonshine) and made dirty jokes. I learned at least 10 different synonyms for various parts of the female anatomy--and most of them are the names of local food. Very educational.----That same night, I was asked how many women I would be bringing back to my house since I live alone. In this country, almost no one lives alone, and the fact that I do, in these guys' eyes, means I can have women over whenever I want. I told them I already have a girlfriend, at which point they very sincerely promised me that they would not tell my girlfriend, so it's really no problem. I explained to them, it's not a matter of her finding out, but rather I don't want to cheat on her. This, they could not understand and it got awkwardly quiet for a little bit. With nothing left to say I lifted my glass of water to their bottles of guaro and toasted 'salud.' Much hair-rustling and back-slapping ensued, and all was right with the world again. Ahhh, the boys.

Last month, as I mentioned in my blog, I was in charge of taking pictures for the independence day celebrations here. Independence Day, for the high school girls, becomes an excuse to wear short, cheerleading-type skirts as they march down the street in the parade. Actually, I'm not sure if it is an excuse for them to wear those skirts as much as it is an excuse for the men in charge to make them wear those skirts. Regardless, I think 50% of the male attendence at the parades can be attributed to girls in short skirts. Being in charge of taking pictures, then, becomes a precarious position for me. I know the girls want to see themselves in photos, but at the same time, I don't want to be associated with the men who came only to stare at the girls. I ended up taking very few photos of the cheerleaders. Well, of course, when we got the photos developed and I was about to show them to the teachers, a couple of the women teachers were teasing me saying 'Let's see how many photos Michael took of the cheerleaders.' Feeling pretty proud of myself at this moment, I was thinking 'Yes, let's see.' Well, after showing the photos, the same women teachers started teasing me saying 'So you don't like Latina women do you?' I guess that situation was one I just couldn't win.

Peace and love to all.

Soccer with the SWAT team

2007-10-16T09:12:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, as the title suggests, I played soccer against the Salvadoran SWAT team. A couple of volunteers randomly met the sargent of the SWAT team and got to talking about soccer. They mentioned we have a Peace Corps team, and the sargent mentioned they have an 'Elite Forces Team'. The Peace Corps team is open to any volunteer who wants to show up and run around a bit, so of course we are not very good. However, considering whom we were going to be playing against, we put together our own elite, invite-only team.

So on a very rainy Saturday, I took a bus to Estadio Cuscatlan in the capital. Here, I met up with the rest of my team and we waited to get picked up by the po-po and transported to the game (we didn't get to play in the stadium, unfortunately.) After about 30 minutes of waiting, up rolls three police pick-up trucks, and one dark SUV with darkly tinted windows. I hopped in the back of one of the pick-ups, and we were off. After driving about 15 minutes, I realized that even though all of the officers were dressed in soccer shorts and t-shirts, they were all still packing heat...either carrying their guns nonchalantly, or they were strapped to their inner-leg. I started to wonder if they would be playing with their guns, then I started to think maybe we should make sure they win.

We got to the field (read mudpit) and there were about 15 guys dressed to play, and another 10 in full uniform which includes a huge, militaristic-looking gun in their hands and another, normal handgun at their hip. After lots of jokes, lots of pictures, and lots of goals, we won 7-3 and they did not shoot us--I would say that makes it a success.

Now, seriously, these guys were really cool. Very friendly, interested in what we were doing, and good hosts. They are the ones who do raids on gang houses, and when you see pictures in the paper of arrests, they are holding the criminal and they are wearing black ski masks so they don't have to worry about retribution. Kind of a weird experience talking to people whose lives are full of violence and danger...they are soldiers basically, and they way they can compartmentalize their work from their lives is amazing to me.

Pictures of Indepenence Day

2007-09-25T10:22:00.000-07:00

September 15 here is independence day (although there are festivities throughout the month of September.) The following pictures are of the parade through Ozatlan--the capital of my municipality. All of the schools within the municipality were invited to participate in the parade. The picture I took were all of the school in my community.

The little kids in the above pictures were banging on the drums in the below picture...pretty cute I thought

A few pictures of my house and a story

2007-09-20T10:50:00.001-07:00

I played in my first official soccer game with my town team this past weekend. It was an away game, which means about 30 of us pile into two small pick-up trucks to drive about half an hour up the volcano to a town called California. The whole way, the guys were making catcalls and pretty crude comments to any female that was unfortunate enough to be walking on the road at the time. I know, sounds like these guys are assholes, but it's really a cultural thing and the girls are used to it, so who are we to judge. Actually, the guys are all really cool.

We lost the game 5-4 and I only played the first half (pretty poorly at that) and my ankle is still not quite right. But all of that is unimportant. The important part is the pre-game rituals. We went through a pretty intense warm-up and then were checked-in by the ref. After check-ins, we ran onto the field in a single file line led by the keeper. Everyone, including myself, reached down to touch the field and then cross themself upon entering the field. The keeper then ran into the center circle, and we split of forming a circle around him, where he then punted the ball into the air and we all clapped. After that, we walked to the corner, all took a knee, and prayed. They were all mumbling some prayer I wouldn't have known in Spanish or English, so I started mumbling the only prayer I knew (thanks to Dayspring Preschool):

Thank you god, for the stars and moon
for the rain and sunny weather.
Thank you god, for this our food
and that we are together.
Amen.

It's a pretty short prayer, so I had to repeat it a few times, but it got the job done. Then, when the whistle blew, we all crossed ourselves one more time and began playing. After being an Evangelical Christian during training, I think it's now safe to say I'm a full-blooded Catholic. God Bless you all.

My house...

My pila and shower in the back

My latrine (which so far is still cockroach free)

My weight made of steel, cement, and milk cans (yeah, i know, I'm a badass)

And most importantly, my hammock

Pictures

2007-09-16T09:31:00.000-07:00

At Swearing in with my host Mom and her son (she gave me that tie, so I had to wear it...i wanted to go sleazy and have the shirt unbuttoned some and a gold chain glistening amidst my chest hair.) And they are both around 6 feet tall as you can tell...I sprouted to about 6'4''

Life is good

2007-09-09T10:40:00.000-07:00

Not much new to report here...but I'm working on getting some photos of my house and community put up, so look for those later this week along with, hopefully, an interesting post. Love to all.

Swearing In

2007-08-30T09:06:00.001-07:00

I realized I forgot to mention anything about the swearing in ceremony. Not too much to say, but I do have a couple of thoughts on it...

The night before swearing in we had a dinner hosted by some of the current Peace Corps volunteers. Everyone was quite nice, but the excitement was definitely a little overwhelming. A lot of the volunteers were almost frantic in their excitement to be seeing everyone and drinking/partying. I guess maybe after a year of isolation in my site I'll be the same way--vamos a ver (we will see).

The actual swearing in ceremony was okay. The majority of it was done in spanish, with speeches given by the director of Peace Corps El Salvador, the director of the Municipal Development program, and a fellow trainee whom we nominated to give a speech. My boss, the director of Youth Development, had the privelege of interpreting for the U.S. Ambassador who was at the ceremony. Yes, that's right, of all the capable, spanish speaking citizens of the U.S., we still choose to have an Ambassador to El Salvador who does not speak spanish. His speech was given in English and translated paragraph by paragraph. He even made a joke, saying that he is learning one new spanish word a day and his word for that day was 'pinguino' (penguin). I'm glad he's not wearing himself out learning 2 words a day...that would just be too much. And it's also good to know that he is focusing on vocabulary that will be useful considering the penguin problem here in tropical El Salvador.

After the ceremony was the party. 10 dollars all you can drink from 10-1. Amazingly, I did pretty well in that I felt I drank more than my 10 dollars worth, but I didn't over do it. Others most definitely did, and there were definitely some funny/scandalous scenes to be entertained by. Kind of made me nostalgic for those cottage wop parties at Mac.

Well I gotta go catch my bus now, otherwise I'm stuck here for another 2 hours. Adios

I have arrived

2007-08-27T11:58:00.000-07:00

So I just read that for security reasons we are not supposed to make public knowledge where our sites are located. I think I probably wrote it in a prior entry, but in any case, I will give you all the English translation. I live in the club of the savior. Club as in stick, not club as in discotec, but I really prefer to think of myself living in Jesus Christ´s nightclub. And as you might imagine, it`s not that flashy, considering Jesus was a minimalist and all. What makes all this even more fun to write is the fact I`m sitting in a pretty large internet cafe that has been taken over by about 10 Mormon missionaries. I'm just dying to get the opportunity to reply to their questions about whether or not I've accepted Jesus Christ into my life with the response 'I've done more than that...I'm living in his freakin club.'

I've been in my site now for a little over a week. Really, I've just spent my time hanging out, preparing my house, and getting to know people (also a lot of reading and listening to music in the hammock). My house is pretty nice. I have electricity, an outdoor shower, and a latrine that is cockroach free.

The people in my site are incredible. Everyone is full of 'chispa' (chispa means spark and is used to refer to someone with a lot of personality.) There is soccer played every evening...some days are formal trainings with the town team (which I am a part of) and other days it is just open to anyone. Currently I'm out of commission for a bit with a sprained ankle, but I plan on making a triumphant return in a week or so.

I think that's about all the writing I have in me today. I slept horribly last night, and am kind of dragging today. However, I bought a thumb drive or whatever those things are called, so I can now write entries on my computer at home and just upload them here...hopefully that will mean more frequent and better blog entries. Hopefully. Love to everyone.

19 years of soccer and blue eyes makes me cool

2007-08-04T08:43:00.000-07:00

I visited my site this past week, and, all in all, it was amazing.

On Monday I left Tepetitan at 6am to arrive in Usulutan by 9. Usulutan is the closes, decent sized pueblo, where I will go to shop, eat out, etc. One of my counterparts, Don Joaquin, met me in Usulutan and we rode the bus together to Las Trancas (about 30 minutes).

Las Trancas is a pretty small Canton (about 1400 people) that consists of 5-6? Caserios. It basically has one main dirt road, and a bunch of side passages. It is damn hot, but there are a ton of trees and shade, and it is really quite nice. From the top of the hill I can see the ocean, which is about 25 km away.

Don Joaquin is the director of the school in Las Trancas, so he took me there first to briefly tour the school and meet some of the teachers. The teachers have all been working at the school for numerous years, and seem genuinely interested and concerned about the students--which is not always the case here. Also, the school has a computer lab with about 6 computers, internet, and most importantly, Air Conditioning!!! I think I'll be offering a lot of computer training classes.

The rest of the day I stayed with my host family--Nina Chela and company. Wonderful people, good food, fun kids, and a wooden bed. No joke, the bed I slept on was a wooden board the size of a double bed, with a sheet thrown on top. I guess you can't win 'em all.

The next day, Tuesday, I met with my other counterpart, Don Remberto. Don Rembe is the health promotor in Las Trancas. I went with him to the Unidad de Salud in Ozatlan (a smaller and closer pueblo than Usulutan.) Don Rembe's meeting was only supposed to last half the day, but ended up going the entire day leaving me with not much to do. I did stop by the mayor's office and the police station to let them know I'll be living in their municipality--they both nodded and smiled, and I'm pretty sure I'll never see them again...but at least they know I'm here. The rest of the day I sat in the Unidad watching animal planet and talking with the doctors and nurses (all women.) It wasn't a complete bust, because never before have I received so many 'guapos' 'chulos' and 'bonitos' in my life. To any white folks with blue eyes reading this, move to El Salvador and you will automatically be good looking.

The rest of my time was spent meeting people and hanging out. Everyone was very friendly, and the town is extremely organized. There are three soccer teams, an under 17 team, a recreational team that pays their own travel and uniform fees, and then 'la seleccion' (the selection/town team). Well Wednesday night I was invited to play some soccer. I didn't know it, but apparently it was some sort of tryout. I played for 25 minutes, scored a goal, had an assist, and didn't lose the ball once. Afterwards, two of the town leaders who were watching and the coach and one of the players asked me if I had my passport with me. I said, "No, should I be carrying it around?" thinking that they were concerned about safety or whatever. They responded, "Of course you should, how else are we going to get you signed up on our team." Basically, to be part of the team they need a copy of my passport. The process takes about a week, and I arrive in the community on the 17th of August and there is a game 2 days later. They wanted me to be ready to play for that game.

Only a week and a half left of training, and then off to my site. I'm very looking forward to it.

PS
To read something from the real writer in the family, check out my Grandpa's story

http://www.commonties.com/blog/2007/08/01/one-last-look/

Moving Day

2007-07-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

I'm moving. My host family has been planning on moving at the end of August, but that would have no effect on me since I would be leaving for my site mid-August. Well, I went on an overnight Wednesday (I was literally gone for 26 hours) and when I returned half the house was packed up. Apparaently, we are moving on Monday to Entrevista, a small community about 10 minutes away by bus. It's not that big of a deal, but a little stressful and frustrating as I have to pack up all my stuff and I have really started to enjoy Tepetitan (my current community.) Oh well.

This past Tuesday I found out where I will be spending my next 2 years. Starting August 16th, I will be living in Cantón Las Trancas, Ozatlan, Usulutan. Cantón Las Trancas is my community, Ozatlan is the municipality, and Usulutan is the department. It's in the southeast part of the country, and looks to be about a 30 minute bus ride (depending on bus routes and roads) from the ocean. The community has had 3 volunteers in the past (all Rural Health and Sanitation volunteers) but at least they know about Peace Corps. Also, from what I've heard, they are very active and pretty organized. Monday-Thursday I will be visiting my site and meeting my counterparts (the director of the school, and the local health promotor.) I will most definitely write an entry Friday or next weekend with my thoughts on my new home. Adios

El Futbolista pt. 2

2007-07-20T15:21:00.000-07:00

So I wasn't planning on writing another blog entry until I got back from the beach, but after last nights performance on the canchita (little field), I decided I had to update. After a decent first half, we were only down 5-3--I had a goal and an assist and hit the post twice. The second half began with the other team scoring two quick goals, and I immediately thought 'here we go again.' But we came back with two quick goals of our own cutting the deficit back down to two. By now, I've become a marked man in the tournament, so I was having trouble making things happen, but I did manage a few Maradonna's (non-soccer players won't know what I'm referring to, but it's a pretty basic move that looks flashy) and they were all greeted with 'Ole' from the fans. Finally, I put in a nice volley with my left bringing us within one. On the ensuing kickoff, I stole the ball and quickly fired home a shot from deep. Not even 30 seconds later, the ref blew the whistle marking the end of the game and our first non-loss. I have never seen a tie celebrated so enthusiastically in my life. Once again, I'm a celebrity...and this time I'm letting it go to my head.

On a lesser note, I have a rash. Which reminds me of a line from my favorite movie which goes 'Man, I got a rash.' The first person to tell me who said this, what movie, and what scene in the movie will get a letter from yours truly. (I'm expecting either Zack, Isaac, or Mark to get this one). Just leave a comment on the blog with your answer.

Que Chivo Estar Aqui (How cool it is to be here)

2007-07-15T16:42:00.000-07:00

We had field based training from Wednesday-Saturday. Field Based Training or FBT, is just a visit to a current volunteer's site where he/she has activities planned for the group. The youth development volunteer's were split up into two groups of four. My group was led by Beatriz, who is currently shadowing Kiva to be the next trainer for youth development, and Ever, our Salvadoran motorista and all around badass. Our site was a pueblo called Victoria in the department of Cabañas. This is pretty much the same area I visited for immersion days, and as I have described previously and as the pictures show, it is gorgeous. It is about 5,000 feet (I think) in elevation, and it overlooks the mountains of Honduras.

We arrived around 10:30 Wednesday morning and met Lisa (our host volunteer) at the station for Radio Victoria. This weekend was Radio Victoria's 14th birthday, and it has quite an interesting history. It was originally based out of Santa Marta, was closed down during the civil war, and has always been 'alternative radio' offering a non-centralized form of news and place for opinions to be expressed. The radio offers a very cool program providing workshops on reporting for youth, and then allowing them to present on air. The best part of the radio, though, is definitely the people. Their passion for what they are doing (and it's most definitely a struggle to keep the radio station functioning) showed through brilliantly when they were talking to us.

After meeting with the radio staff, we ate lunch, prepared for charla's that we were going to be giving the next two days, and met our host families. My host mom is the director of 'la casa de cultura' (cultural house) in Victoria. She lives with her mom and her two children--Salvador age 9 and Bryan age 6. The family is all quite nice, but exhausting to say the least. Salva and Bryan were the most hyperactive children I have ever met, and it most definitely does not help that they are constantly given sugary drinks and coffee. Actually, most Salvadoran children are given coffee. It is tough to see, knowing how bad it is for them, but it is cheap and filling, so if food is scarce, coffee helps.

On Thursday, we helped Lisa give a charla on adolescence to the 'Escuela de los padres' (basically like a PTO). The turnout was quite impressive as about 50 parents showed up--almost exclusively women. We were in charge of facilitating small group discussions, and I thought it all went very well. Afterwards, we went to the house of a Salvadoran friend of Lisa where we made pizza from scratch and cooked it in an adobe oven. I'm not sure if it is because I've gotten a little tired of the food here, but the pizza was quite possibly the best thing I've ever tasted. Of course that meant I ate way too much.

Later that night I went with my host family to a nephew's birthday party where I was offerred 'chaparro.' I immediately asked 'what's that' and they just told me to try it. Turns out it is basically moonshine made from fermented plantains, and it is illegal to make in El Salvador. This was most definitely the strongest liquor I have ever tasted, and I'm just thankful I did not go blind. Though I got a bit buzzed, I was safe, because my host mom was drunker than I.

Friday we went back to the school where I gave a charla on teamwork. Essentially, the kids had to build a bridge out of straws high enough so each member of the team could pass under. I think there's a picture of it on the previous entry. The charla went marvoulously, mostly thanks to the kids. We then drove to a site about 30 minutes away where another volunteer, Sarah, lives. There, we went on a hike with a bunch of 4th graders, and picked up plastic to recycle all along the way. After the trash pickup, we hiked to a pretty amazing waterfall where we spent the rest of the day.

Saturday, we woke up at 4:45 to hike up a hill to milk cows. I'm a pretty amazing milker to tell the truth. I have pictures to prove it. The best part, though, was the location. We were above the clouds, so looking down it seemed like it was an ocean and the peaks were all islands. After milking, we ate breakfast and went back to our host communities. It was definitely a great 4 days.

Tomorrow a bunch of us are going to the beach for the weekend. On one hand I wanted some time away from the group, but it's hard to pass up a trip to the beach. We'll see how it goes...if I need to, I'm sure I can find a nice private plot of sand where I can sleep and read. Peace all.

A few Pictures

2007-07-15T16:03:00.001-07:00

Here are some pictures of El Salvador...I'm still figuring this out, so I'll give descriptions some other time.

El Futbolista

2007-07-09T15:48:00.000-07:00

Tepetitan (the town where I live) recently constructed an astro-turf 'canchita' (mini soccer field--about the size of a basketball court) for a two and a half month long tournament. The tourney started about 3 weeks ago and will continue through August. This is probably the biggest thing that has happened in Tepetitan for years, and average attendance is around 150. The host dad of another volunteer put together a team and included me on the roster. The team is composed of local teachers, all of whom are a bit over the hill and not very good at soccer.

So, my Salvadoran soccer career began two weeks ago in my team's first game (and first loss). I did not write about it mainly because it was not fun. I played horribly and we lost. I then caught a chest cold and was not able to play in our 3 subsequent games/losses. However, last night I made a triumphant return to the pitch. We played a team from a neighboring pueblo, and the crowd was abuzz for our 8pm kickoff. I scored the game's first goal about 5 minutes after the opening whistle. We soon went up 2-0 after the other team put in an own goal. The other team scored quickly to make it 2-1, but I answered back with a goal of my own. But, true to our form, we lost our lead and were down 5-3 at halftime (3 of the goals were scored while I was sitting on the bench.

The second half, I decided to put on a clinic for all in attendance. I had 4 second half goals, two of which were completely solo efforts. I think the best part of the night was when I heard an old 'campesino' (rural farmer) say 'juega chele' which basically means 'play gringo' or 'whiteboy'. As much as I am bragging, I am not exaggerating--after last night I am a celebrity in my town. Walking around town today, on three different occasions, someone congratulated me or commented on my performance last night.

The only problem with all of this is we have another game tomorrow evening, and I will most likely be back to my slow, out of shape, mediocre form. Maybe I should hang up the boots and retire on top.

Teaching English to English Teachers

2007-07-08T12:22:00.000-07:00

As part of a new plan, the ministry of education in El Salvador requires english to be taught in every school. It's a good idea, but the majority of the english teachers don't know english. In a lot of schools, the former math teacher or social studies teacher or whoever was simply chosen to be the english teacher. So, as part of training, myself and the 7 other youth development trainees put on a 4 hour english 'taller' (workshop) for local english teachers. We actually got a pretty good turnout (about 40) with levels ranging from very very low to nearly fluent (although most were on the low side.)

The taller was brokent into three sections--pronunciation, grammar (beginning and advanced), and vocabulary. We split the four lessons up and worked in groups of two. Unfortunately, my partner has been sick for the last week, so I had to prepare for and give my entire grammar lesson by myself. I do enjoy working by myself, but I was very nervous about being alone in front of a class. However, after yesterday, I'm not so nervous. My class went quite well. For the most part, the games I played were well-recepted, and my lesson, at least I think, was pretty clear (despite being given first in English and then in Spanish.

I really felt for these teachers, because they are put in a tough place. I'm sure they are all happy to have jobs, but working in schools here in El Salvador is amazingly difficult. Teachers in the states complain about overcrowded classrooms, lack of supplies, and little administrative support (and those complaints are justified), but the obstacles faced by the teachers in El Sal, dwarf those in the states. And on top of all that, the teachers I worked with yesterday are asked to teach a subject that they themselves are currently learning. And the turnout yesterday, for 4 hours on a saturday morning, to a non-required taller shows these teachers' enthusiasm and desire to learn.

Immersion Days

2007-07-01T13:55:00.000-07:00

The Peace Corps sends all of the trainees on a brief trip called immersion days. The idea is for the trainee to travel solo to a different part of the country where he or she is greeted by a current volunteer who has arranged for the trainee to stay with a family, generally in rural areas.

So Thursday morning I left San Vicente to meet my volunteer in Sensuntepeque. It was about a two hour trip and it went off without a hitch. From Sensuntepeque, we took another hour and a half bus trip to San Antonio where the volunteer lives. Then from there, we got a ride to the house I stayed at (I can't remember the name of the town right now.) The house was up in the mountains with a view of Honduras only 4km away. It was an absolutely gorgeous location, and the family I stayed with was amazing. There was a husband and wife and their four kids--boys ages 14 and 1 and girls 9 and 6. The husband's dad and brother also live close by, and the three of them grow corn, beans, watermelon, and cucumbers. I ate plenty of beans, watermelon and cucumbers, and corn flower tortillas. I expressed to the family my desire to learn about farming and they invited me to come live with them, teach at the school and work in their fields...and they were 100% serious. It was one of the nicest invitations I've ever had, especially since it was so earnest. These people were so genuinely nice, I was really taken aback.

Going on immersion days, we were given a letter to pass along to the family that basically tells them that we need to have water boiled for us. I of course forgot that letter. I could have told the family myself, but I feel like an asshole saying that the water they drink isn't clean enough for me. So I kept my mouth shut and drank water from the chorro (tap). The whole first day I was fully expecting to start vomiting at any time, but I made it through with absolutely no trouble...and I'm hoping I'm in the clear by now.

On Saturday morning, I met my host volunteer and we bused into San Salvador for the American Society's 4th of July Party, which is basically for all the American's in El Sal. The party was at the Sheraton, which is probably the nicest hotel in El Salvador, and where all the foreign dignataries and business executives stay. After the party, 7 of us split a room in the hotel and stayed the night in San Salvador, and I'm now back in San Vicente for more training.

Things are good

2007-06-16T11:19:00.000-07:00

I don't really know what to say. Things here are good, but I just feel extremely busy with classes, trainings, and pressure to spend time in my host community and with my host family. I'm enjoying myself, but I'm realizing how hard it will be in the next 10 weeks to keep in touch with everyone. So basically, this blog post will serve as a hello to you all until I have a better story to share. Letters are fairly cheap to send, so if you want a letter, you should email me your address...I don't know when I will get around to writing them, but I will eventually. Also, I bought a cell phone, so if you want to call me (I don't think it's too expensive) the number is 7266-9207--i'm not sure what the country code is, but that should be easy enough to google. Hope all is well, and my love to all.

exhausted and looking forward to hallucinations

2007-06-06T18:35:00.000-07:00

So I'm in El Salvador. I quickly realized that with all the new sites, sounds, smells, experiences, etc. there is no way that I will be able to tell all that I would like to.

Goodbyes of course were extremely difficult. I don't know how many times I heard that someone is proud of me. It is actually makes me uncomfortable to hear for two reasons. First of all, I haven't done anything yet. For all any of us knows, I could sit at my site in El Salvador for two years and treat it as an all expense paid vacation. Of course I won't but I still would rather have accomplished something before I'm praised for it. Second, it makes it sound like I'm doing this for purely selfless reasons. That of course is not true. I am completely selfish, at the risk of sounding cliche, I plan on taking with me much more than I leave behind.

As far as staging (the two day orientation in DC) goes...let's just say I did not enjoy it. The presenters were quite good, but the material they had to cover was not so interesting. Also, I am always a bit put off by new group orientations where everyone seems to become best friends immediately. Of course we will all become friends and of course we want to expedite the process, but it doesn't have to be forced. Being the Peace Corps hippie I am, I think the process could be a bit more organic. I know most of it is just nerves, but everyone seemed to be talking and laughing and smiling as though they were all manic depressives and on speed. Made me want to go to sleep. (I know mom, I'm such a curmudgeon).

I got about 2 hours of sleep before leaving for El Salvador. I was exhausted, but my excitement carried me through. It was about an hour drive from the airport in San Salvador to our training site in San Vicente. Lots of green, lots of color, lots of poverty, and lots of humidity. That's probably the best way to describe it. At training, we had more orientations and it made for quite a long day.

Once again today, meetings pretty much from 7 am until 7 pm and I am exhausted and have a headache. The good news, however, is I took my first dose of maleria medication so I have hallucenagenic (sp) dreams to look forward to. I've always been interested in LSD...maybe this will suffice. (Actually, I've heard from many people that the side effects are pretty rare.)

Special congratulations are in order to Mark for graduating yesterday and Nathalia for finishing up her first year as a teacher.

My love to everyone.

--Mel (that one is for eddie, zack, and jw who is most likely not reading this anyways)

So It Begins... or The Reluctant Blogger

2007-05-13T12:01:00.000-07:00

I am beginning my 27 month stint in the Peace Corps on June 3rd. I will be in DC from the 3rd until the 5th, and then in El Salvador for a little over two years. I have started this blog to record my thoughts/experiences. This way, rather than inundating your mailboxes with impersonal mass emails you can decide for yourselves if you are interested in my stories.

I don't know why, but I am very reluctant to have a "blog" (as shown by my need to put quotation marks around the word). Anyways, this is an experiment with a decent chance of failure. I have no idea what sort of internet access I will have in El Salvador or what sort of personal drive I will have to update my blog. If this blog does fail or if you just want to hear from me a little more often, please email me and I will respond.