Interesting COEDesque Ted talk

A Ted.com lecture about aid, and how funds can be used in sustainable, long-term programs involving recipients in the development, design and implementation processes.

Jacqueline Novogratz: A third way to think about aid | Video on TED.com

Ah, Memories...

The background

Yesterday morning I woke up with that "uh-oh" feeling behind my eyes. Headache, body pain, feverish feeling. Tylenol. Better.

This morning, I work up at quarter to five to get ready for an event in the soccer field in my community. My ADESCO and I had plans to do a raffle. I traipsed around in the sun for several hours selling numbers for a fan. By the time I was done, I felt like shit. Oh, and I had a rash covering my whole body.

Now I am in San Salvador for what seems to be Dengue. It's really unpleasant.

Anyway. There are perks to being out sick. I have wireless internet, cable, air conditioning, and a pretty comfy bed... Let me get to the point.

With the access to wireless (and with it Skype, Facebook, e-mail) and cable that streams in US culture, it is almost like I am not in El Salvador anymore.

But the problem is that catching up with people back home, which I love to do, makes me nostalgic. When I get nostalgic...

I wonder what I would be doing now if I hadn't left Ashland in December and then Albany in February. I'm currently living in a permasummer, but in Oregon right now, the seasons are hesitantly pushing the mercury up the scale.

If I were still in Ashland, I would likely be on Allison Street. A place that I loved, a lot, despite the leaky fridge, the leaky shower and the leaky windows. I would probably still be dating around, and going out with Kelsey to The Creek, Alex's and Caldera. We would likely be having a really good time. But most of my other, old Ashland friends have flown the coop and I would be lacking them just like I do from El Salvador.

If, for some reason, I was in Albany still, I would have been around for the last events in my family's history. I wouldn't have missed the service for my grandfather, I would have been with my family. I would probably still have my car, all the stuff I sold, and I would have a need for my wool pea coats that I love so much.

But, as I was told by two wandering New Zealanders (or were they Australian?) while drinking big bottles of Corona on the beaches of Zihuatanejo, Mexico, in 2008, you need to see the world while you're young, your own country you can explore when your closer to settling down. As much as I love my own friends and family, I feel like I am creating a bigger network, and now I have friends and family here in El Salvador.

As I looked at the gnarly red rash that spans my body from my neck to my ankles, shaking my fist and cursing the day I moved to what feels like the hottest, most mosquito ridden place on earth, my phone rang. My friend, who is also my postman, called to check on me.

"Where are you, Yessi?"

--San Salvador.

"You don't plan on coming back tonight, right? It probably wouldn't be safe..."

--No, I should be back tomorrow, in the early afternoon.

"Ok, I just called because everyone was all worried... have a good night, take care of yourself."

And then I remember that I have friends and family here too, and when I leave, I'll very likely be missing El Cocalito and all of them just as I miss Oregon and everything I have back home.

Las Salvadoreñas

Over the last month and a half that I have been in site, I feel like I have made some really great friends. Despite all the complaining I may do about the more annoying cultural exchanges I come across (little kids screaming Niña griiinnggaaa at my in the street, the trash everywhere, that stupid Destinas song all the kids sing over and over, and the millions of times my family shout ¨¡Yessy!!¨for no reason every day) I really enjoy myself most of the time and about 99 percent of all the people with whom I spend that time.

Anyway. I was spending time with one of my friends at the river yesterday, helping her wash clothes. We were chatting and gossiping about all the family that had collected at our houses for a big dinner that one of the husbands was putting together as a treat for all the mothers.

We got to talking about romance in El Salvador.

During training the females were given a talk about the roadbumps of dating Salvadoran men. What we heard was that they are all cheaters, liars, schemers, and really good at it. If we wanted to date Salvadoran men, we were told, chances are, it will be a good idea to also see a therapist to keep yourself in check. Shit show.

It turns out that Salvadoran women have the same things to say about the men they date, marry and have children with.

While talking with my friend I was told that she herself had been cheated on at least three times over the course of her 10 year relationship. The first time she knows of was when her first children, twins, were only a few weeks old. While she said she left him for awhile, she always went back, usually for the sake of her kids. With each act of infidelity she looses whatever trust she has in him, and always looses the close female friend he had the affair with.

She then told me about almost every other Salvadoran married man I have met here. Each of them have had other women. They sold all the family cows to pay for a marriage with another woman, leaving their life partners and children with nothing, then come back home without a cent and are given pardon. Another was caught with a ¨carmela¨by his wife and he kicked her in the stomach, just a month after she had a cesarian. One works in town and has several ladies on the side. On the rare occasion he takes his family into town, the windows stay up, despite the heat, and she still hasn´t found out.

Depite all the crap these women put up with, they don´t really do much to stop it. The men who are caught cheating still get their food brought to them three times a day by their patient wives. The women who know that their friends are being cheated on don´t say a word to the women.

We packed up the kids and the clothes and walked back to the house. All the mothers had spent the day cooking the meal that is a gift to them. The women served up the food to the kids and to the husbands and then sat down to the gift of food they prepared.

Some of the mothers were suprised by gifts from their children and husbands. Others, my friend included, did not.

After a few words were said, and Don Jorge, the patriarch of the family, recited a poem for the mothers, the ladies played a round of musical chairs. They laughed and danced and shoved and had a good time and the winner got a gift bag.

This morning they were all still talking about the wonderful party. They thought it was a great mother´s day gift. I suppose it appealed to their nature. They cooked a meal and fed everyone more than they needed, they forgave their husbands for not getting them a little gift, and then enjoyed gossiping about everyone that had left while cleaning up the mess.

It´s May, Finally.

Happy Mother´s day! Things here have been slow, and while there are lots of things I could write about, I just don´t feel much inspiration to do so. At least I took the initiative to take a few photos around my house over the last few days.

Sitting in the hammock. I need to start working...

Some Flower in my yard...

Nube, our Chivita.

Little Ricardito. 7 month little guy. Pretty cute...
Pretty sure he has never touched the ground.

My hilarious ¨host mom¨Milena posing in a dress that she found somewhere.
"It´s from the USA," she said.
I told her my country will take the blame for a lot of things,but this dress is not one of them.

The Bichos. These kids couldn´t be louder at 6 am if they tried.

Nancy and... well, one of the twins, I still can´t tell them apart.
Most terrifying clowns I have ever seen.

Carmen, Christina, Amalya and Brian.

Holy Crap

Let me just say, I am falling into the same damn slump that everyone told me - and every other PCV here in El Salvador - I would fall into.

It´s month.... 2 in site, and every day feels like an eternity. A hot, sweaty, spanish eternity.

I can´t recount any recent victory or high point. I haven´t really been doing anything. I´ve been doing less than I was last month... This is the opposite of what I was hoping. Crap.

I spent two days, one night, at Playa Tunco last weekend. It was wonderful. I ate Falafel. FALAFEL. I drank spicy cold micheladas. It was fantastic. It was the perfect little break from what had been a long and kind of depressing week. However, going back to site, I didn´t really feel refreshed, as much as just wishing I had another evening, or six, at the Hotel La Guitarra.

Everyone keeps asking me when I am going to work, and I want to do a lot of stuff, but I feel like my hands are tied until PST II. At least this Sunday, hopefully, I will be putting a floor into my house. (Hopefully) It will be nice to come back to El Cocalito in mid June and move into my new place.

That´s all, Miss you all, Miss home.

But still, okay.

:)

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.