Been livin´out of this here suitcase for way too long...

Ahhh,

So much time to sit and think here in El Salvador.

The rains have been falling lately. Which turns my patio into a pond and makes everything not made of stone into thick, stick-to-your-shoes mud. One of the benefits, however, is the almost nightly thunder and lightning storms I lay around and watch.

Having so much time on my hands, as I presently do, would seem like a huge burden, and it kind of is, since I am accustomed to being busy.

However, I realized that I never dealt well with downtime because I perfer having distractions. Otherwise my mind tends to fixate on my own problems. Here, though, all the things that preoccupied my mind have disappeared.

Issues concerning the questionable or downright crappy behavior of various people in my life, which could plague my mind, now seem like they never existed.

It´s awesome. I feel pretty much like I have tossed any possible baggage off for good. And all I had to do was move a few thousand miles away. :P

Having said that, I still think about home on a regular basis.
Cold air, comfortable furniture, sleeping past 6:30 am, monthy phone plans, my apartment on Allison, an exciting social life, all my friends and family and my cat Neil. These are the things I will lapse into day dreaming about from time to time. Oh, and going to the movies, I would really like to do that...

In other news, I think I might have found a house. Finally. I´ll have to master the art of getting water from a well, and I´ll be laying my own concrete floor, but it is nice and centrally located, and it will be mine, more or less.

So keep your fingers crossed for me. Maybe I'll have electricity soon, and I can take some pictures.

Until then.

One of the Peace Corps Goals

Is to share the culture of the host nation with my fellow Americans.

As I have been spending a shameful amount of time lying in my hammock on my front stoop, I have been thinking about some great, though unexpected, life lessons I have learned. My fellow Americans... This is how to...

Prepare Pollo Indio

1) Catch the little sucker and slice his throat.
2) Hang him up by his feet and let the blood drain out.
3) Boil a big pot of water, and bring it to your pila.
4) Sharpen your best knife.
5) Get your chicken down and put him in the hot water to soften the feathers. Remove the head and toss it aside.
6) Start plucking.
7) Once all the feathers are taken out, run the lil fella over the fire to burn off any pesky extra plumage.
8) Chop off the feat, and open up the back in so your hand will fit in there.
9) Take out all the guts, saving the heart, liver, and whatever that other thing is that looks meaty. Toss the rest.
10) Turn your attention to the neck. Pull out the breathing and fooding tubes. Watch out, Dry kernels of corn might come popping out, if you caught the guy post breakfast.
11) Wash the fella down, and chop him into appropriate portions: Legs, breasts, wings, back, etc.

Enjoy your many hours laying in the Hammock, even though you feel useless.

1) Read and try to keep your eyes open, and when that fails...
2) Use a little of the precious battery you have in your iPod and switch it on to these songs, my approved hammock playlist:

• Regina Spektor "Two Birds," "Samson," and "Us"
• Rush "LimeLight"
• Avett Brothers "The Greatest Sum"
• The Middle East "Blood"
• Beyonce "Single Ladies"
• Nickel Creek "Why Should the Fire Die?"
• Simon and Garfunkel "America"
• Devil Makes Three "Gracefully Facedown"
• WolfMother "Vagabond"
• Ray LaMontagne "Jolene"

How To Wash Your Clothes

1) Put your sweaty, dirty, nasty clothes you´ve let accumulate for far too long into a large huacal full of water and powdered detergent. I like Xedex, personally.
2) Rest for awhile in your hammock, or clean your pila if it is looking a little scummy. Just give the soap a little time to work.
3) Get out your rolling soap, tie your hair back and pull out your first article of clothing. Lay it on the pila surface.
4) Roll the soap over the clothes and add a little water from a small huacal. Note: You scoop the water up and turn your hand in towards your wrist, not to the side. This is how every woman here does it... It makes a difference, apparently.)
5) With your dominant hand, grab the part of the clothing furthest from you and with your other hand, hold the other end in place.
6) Move your dominant hand (with the fabric still in it, of course, this isn't voodoo) in a rowing sort of direction, rubbing the fabric over itself, over and over again.
7) Do this over all the parts of the clothing, paying special attention to the armpits, and collar, etc.
8) You may need to employ a scrub brush for thick material or particularly stubborn stains.
9) Socks are a totally different story. I reccommend that next time you move to a dusty developing nation, you bring black running socks, not white ones. Live and learn.

Pick Mangos from big tall trees

1) Find a big, long stick. Bamboo, perhaps.
2) Find Mango tree.
3) Buy yourself a 2 liter bottle of Salva cola (it's said to be smoother than either Coke of Pepsi, and it was made in El Salvador. Plus, you're chances of finding a 2 Liter of Coke Zero in your caserio are slim to none, unfortunately)
4)Drink the soda, on ice. (if you don't know how to make ice, look at someone else's site, because I sure as shit can't tell you) If you're currently living without electricity, like I am, go buy a little baggie of it.
5) Cut a big hole in the side of the bottle. A Mango-sized hole. Make sure the top and bottom of the bottle stay attached.
6) Attach the bottle to the end of the pole. Wire, Tape, String... whatever works.
7) Raise the bottle end of the stick up into the tree, and, once you find the mango you desire, get it into the hole in the bottle.
8) Once it´s in there, gently thrash and pull to break the vine. The mango will sit in the bottle safely and you can lower it down and enjoy. Here, if you're Salvadoran, you'll eat it like an apple, skin and all. If you're me, and you don't like all that stringy mango in your teeth, you'll still cut them and eat them the way your Mom taught you. If your mom never taught you, read here.

And so the honeymoon ends

Well, I'm finally a legitimate PCV in El Salvador. After a long two months of training, a fantastic swearing in ceremony, and a long, amazing night of celebration, I took a bus out west to my new home.

Since then, life has been the expected, yet unwelcome mix of emotion. I can think of no other time in my life where I have had such radical mood swings. The smallest successes are really great, and the littlest setbacks are really killer.

So far I have done a whole lot of nothing. It's depressing. I live sort of outside of my community which is making it hard to get familiar with the place. My Grandpa Hiddleson died last week as well, which made being here and appearing upbeat all the more difficult.

Right now I am living without electicity and taking bucket baths. I will be looking for a new place within the community to live in the next few weeks when I start my community-wide census.

That isn't to say everything is lame. I have some cool stuff going on too, I suppose. I have nice neighbors, friendly counterparts, a cool location....

Last week was Semana Santa, and I spent a lot of time with my host family at Barra De Santiago, relaxing in a hammock, drinking from coconuts and trying to keep up with the Spanish conversation.

I am writing now from the San Salvador office, here on a medical check up. :\ I'm going to use that as the excuse for why this post is rambling and boring. I'm not feeling well. :)

Anyhow, the photos are all out of order again. My bad. What else, what else. I have a new address, if you want it that or my phone number, just e-mail me. :) Miss you all, Lots of Love

The view from my new front door.

Salt and dye. Semana Santa

The COED group of Istepeque. Alfred, Dan, Milton, Jamie, Me, Dan

The Hermana and I at the Embassy

Clayton looking like a bad ass behind the podium. Almost cried.

The Two Dans

Yeahhhh.

Some Photos of Life So Far

Finally got around to putting some photos up. Not very many though. I will be swearing in on Friday (finally!) and I am so looking forward to getting to Ahuachapan and starting my service. Tonight is my last night in my training community. Bitter sweet. It is also the anniversary of the death of Romero, and the church outside of my home is having what seems to be an all night celebration. I think it will be a long night.

Anyway, I put up some photos, but they're pretty much totally out of order. More or less in reverse. I don't have the patience to change it now.

I've been missing all my friends and family back home, but I am so excited to get to my new home and see what the next step brings.

Family Fiesta Day. Left to Right, Greg, Jamie, Dan C
Danny Sanny! Pato, Carmela, and the Preacher.
These are the best community pals a person could ask for.

Stooping in Tepetitan with the COED group. Celebrating finally finding out our sites.
Daniel (L) singing along and Clayton (R) appreciating the scene.

Breakdancing during the intermission of our movie day fundraising event.

Relaxing with the COED group at Costa Del Sol.

Our bread-making friends' home. Check out my friend Daniel ¨Pato¨ H's blog http://danielhinkle.tumblr.com/ for more photos of this little oasis.

Sweaty Men working in the kitchen. ¨Los dos Danieles¨

Skateboarder at Moje

Building a Kiln at Moje, a non governmental organization that helps former
gang members and at risk youth learn artisan skills and keep their lives on track.

Working at the wheel.

Futbolistas of our Community

Torro and David during our Campana de Limpieza which was unfortunately cut short when the mayor showed up with his team to fumigate the park. Recently there have been higher than normal levels of Dengue for this time of year. Even some of my fellow trainees have been unlucky enough to be diagnosed with this. We'll see what the rainy season brings.

Our little pal Torro, hanging out in the Park

The Marker of the Meeting point of Honduras, Guatemala and El Salvador.
Three nations in one day.

The from the top of a virgin forest. I was standing on the spot where Honduras, El Salvador and Guatemala meet, after a hour long hike through the National Park, Monte Cristo.

Erica in the back of the pickup that took us to Monte Cristo. Long Drive.

La Cancha of Istepeque. On that hill runs the Pan American Highway.

The Volcano, Chinchontepec. Last November a large landside came down from this Volcano and wiped out entire communities. In my host community there are whole families who are living in the casa communal because they have been unable to rebuild after this tragedy.

My Home for the Next Two Years

Well, I found out where I am going to be spending the next two years of my life.

I will be living in the department of Ahuachapan in the far West of the country.

My home will be a short 4 kilometers from the beach Barra de Santiago (Google it, I dare you) which is generally unspoiled, beautiful and less busy than other local beaches. It also has some great surf, for those who are into that sort of thing. :)

I will be working with the local ADESCO, a health promoter, the local elementary school, a breadmaker and a pinata maker, among others

I am so excited to get there next week. I will be perpetually sun burned and sweating like a swine, but I can not wait.

But, I´m Licenciada...

Yesterday stunk. It was ¨Friday,¨ it was uncommonly hot, I was uncommonly cynical, and we had a lot of stuff to get done.

After I spent hours messing up the preterite form during spanish class, I went with my COED pals into San Vicente for a DCA session which was also pretty rough. When it was over, I was so excited to just get back home to Istepeque.

The hottest part of our day is getting on the 4:45 bus. The lowering sun hits the windows just right to heat the vinyl seat covers to a scorching temperature. Everyone in the bus is sweaty, and every seat is full. Yesterday we were just in time to catch the bus, we packed in though the big back door, being literally pushed in the door by the cobrador. There was literally no space, it was a sweaty situation. Someone took my bag for me though, and I found space on the handrail to grab on.

Then I realized, I got caught in a Dan sandwich, or as it was so perfectly stated, a ¨Danny Sanny.¨ The ¨two Daniels¨of the group happen to also be the two most sweaty men in El Salvador, and there I was, stuck between them as their sweating kicked into high gear, being soaked by sweat that was not mine. I was laughing so hard my muscles were failing me, but as ¨the other Daniel¨mentioned, we were crammed in so close that even if I couldn´t hold on to the rail, and my legs buckled below me, I would stay in the upright position.

Later that evening I started the process of making ice for the soda we would be selling at our social service project. In general, everything in El Salvador comes in a plastic bag, and soda is no different. To make the ice, then, I decided to just put just enough water in each of the plastic bags, toss it in the freezer, and then when we sold a soda, we could just pour it into the same bag. Soda, Ice. Simple.

I started my little, simple project. My host mom noticed what I was doing, and it became much less simple. Wanting to help, she was filling the bags all the way up. I explained my strategy. She kept looking at me like I was insane. ¨These are not the right bags,¨ she kept saying... ¨This isn´t right, there is too much.¨

¨Too much what?¨ I asked. ¨Too much ice? Too many bags? I don´t see any problem.¨

Eventually it turned into a 5 minute conversation over how to make ice, how to best sell soda,
how the bags I bought were wrong, and how no one will understand what is going on.

I was surprised to find myself getting frustrated. About ice.

¨We are not accustomed to such large bags,¨she said.

¨We´re not filling them all the way,¨ I said.

¨You don´t understand,¨ she said.

And I didn´t. I finished making my bags, put them into the freezer, and feeling totally stupid, and doubting if maybe, in fact, I had any idea how to make ice after all, visited Daniel H to vent and chill out.

He was sitting in his backyard eating, so I said hello to his mother and sat down. She came out and said something with her mouth full, I asked her to repeat herself. Mistake.

She went on for a minute about how I don´t know Spanish. I don´t understand anything, and I can´t speak any Spanish, either. Snap.

Despite my responding that I did, infact, understand everything she was saying, and Daniel explaining the same, she was pretty sure I´m totally hopeless.

So I was feeling pretty low about my life in El Salvador by the time I got home.

This morning I slept in till 7:30 and got some chores done before it got too hot. Productive, successful.

My host mom called me from my room. ¨Come look at your ice,¨ she said. It was still water. ¨The power is out,¨she said. ¨But, my ice - the ice in these little bags - it´s still frozen.¨

I successfully completed a University education but in El Salvador I can´t make ice. In that moment I knew exactly what I wanted to say in English, but when presented with a freezer full of water, all I could muster in Spanish was ¨pues.....¨

Don McDonald had a farm....

One month down, one more to go.

For the last month and some change I have been doing my damnest to adapt to life in San Vicente, El Salvador. Some days it feels like I have been here a year, other days I feel pretty fresh from the United States. I have been trying to think of stories to tell people back home when we talk, and I always feel like things here have gotten pretty routine, but really, my life here is totally different from back home.

I have been living with a host family in the little community of Istepeque, in the department of San Vicente. I live with host parents, Niña Juana and Don Rafael, an older sister Magdalena, and a younger sister, Lupita. They're incredibly warm and kind and I really couldn't be happier.

My house is pretty nice here. Niña Juana keeps a pretty flower garden in the front, and a vegetable garden out back. We have chickens that are better dead and in my soup than alive and keeping me up at night. As my friend Alfredo put it, you hear one rooster start crowing down the street, which gets it's neighbor chickens going, and so on, and you can gauge just when the chicken right outside your house is going to start screaming. This happens about once an hour every night.

There are chickens everywhere. Those raised "free range" are called pollo indio. You can always have a conversation with Salvadoran women over what is better, pollo indio, or farm raised chicken from the super. As my spanish teacher pointed out, pollo indio isn't injected with chemicals, which is better. As a fellow trainee responded, the chickens at his house drink his soapy bath water and from the scummy gutters along the street. As for chemical content, the jury is still out. For us gringos, the health benefits of killing pollo indio rest primarily in the hours of sleep we get back once they are dead.

I have heard that some of the other trainees have been having a hard time adjusting to the close proximity of animals to people. It hasn't really been an issue for me, so far at least. Every day herds of cattle walk down my street, and they also graze by our "cancha" which is the football field. One of my fellow trainees lives next door to a little pasture where a group of cows and bulls live. Sometimes we forget why cows are kept, then we remember...

A few weeks ago the newly elected govenor of San Vicente, who is from this community, thew a barbeque in the next town over. He was going to be feeding a bunch of people for free and had one of the cows that lives in the little pasture slaughtered for the party. Though we missed it, the neighborhood kids told us all about it. Two whacks to the face, they told us, laughing hysterically, then they slit his throat. The first hatchet strike between the eyes didn't take him down, it took a second, apparently. Who kills a cow that way?! The kids loved telling us the story, and loved acting out the blade getting them right between the eyes, their tongues lolling out.