So it's the day after El Salvador's Dia De Independencia, and thank god. Watching little bichas shaking their stuff in fishnets, heeled boots and a pound of makeup was not my idea of freedom.
I spent my morning sitting in the wafting aroma of pupusas, hanging out with my vendadora friends on the El Cocalito football field. By the coffee hour I was sipping a weak brew in the Plaza of Atiquizaya and by noche I was sitting on Ave's bed, waiting for the next good story, and ready to bob and weave.
Let me backtrack...
Last week, de repente, I found myself being kissed by a Salvadoran. I won't get into details, but let's just say it was not so great. The lingering sabor of cigarettes, fruity gum and fear didn't really do it for me.
We had plans to hang out this week, so I didn't break them. I generally enjoy his company, though I have to admit that I spend a fare share of our time together discreetly chuckling at him rather than with him. His nearly constant movement, his romantic view of everything, his cliche phrases, and his tendency to overshare are like a fuente of entertainment. He's just so weird, but it is hard to remember sometimes that I am not in Kansas anymore, and nothing is like it is back home.
Which takes me to this scenario. Sitting in the Ave's bed, listening to music and talking about one thing or another. I was a little on edge, assuming he would again try to kiss me, and I had to have a means of dodging it. Then, in the next moment, he was doing that thing with his eyes that he must think is super suave, and I know it's time to act.
"Hold on a second," he said in his too cool-for-school voice, and he reached up onto a nearby shelf. "I want to show you something."
So I brace myself. Could be something cool, could be something horrifying.
He keeps his back to me and I hear some questionable sounds.
He turns around and has a two foot balloon inflated and starts making me a balloon animal. A dog. I cringe and choke back my laughter and try to keep cool with every squeaky twist.
"Normally I do this in my whole clown costume, but for you I'll make the exception."
And that's where I loose it.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Not saying that you´re fea....
"I just need for you to be a little more pretty..." said Milena. "You have a iron for your hair, and lots of cute shoes... but you're always in flipflops and your hair is always pulled back"
This coming from a woman whose hair I haven`t seen down more than twice, who never wears makeup and who also only ever wears flipflops.
"I live in a humid, sweaty climate, with dirt or mud roads, and I bathe with a bowl. I don´t think I am game for traipsing around with my hair down in high heels," I told her. "Besides, who cares?"
Apparently, she sure does. I embrace my role as la gringa despeinada. Dirty feet, unpainted fingernails and all. Though, I do wish I could wear my hair down a little more often.
At least I have someone here telling me la verdad!
Thankfully I have had some minor victories to bouy my spirits against such blows.
My first women´s business group meeting had a fantastic turnout of 25 women. The second meeting had 20. We made our shampoo, and it is pretty decent. All the women are excited to make some minor changes, and then a little money.
With a little luck and a modest request, I was able to win a small grant to fund our training and a few batches of experimental soap and shampoo as well as some hardware. Thanks US embassy. Though it is only a little money, the women seem to encouraged by it, and it has definitely encouraged me, too.
The last few days of August will be as jam packed as the rest of this month has been, and September, so far, is looking pretty busy. Thank god.
I can´t believe August is almost over. How time flies in the developing world.
Other tidbits:
This coming from a woman whose hair I haven`t seen down more than twice, who never wears makeup and who also only ever wears flipflops.
"I live in a humid, sweaty climate, with dirt or mud roads, and I bathe with a bowl. I don´t think I am game for traipsing around with my hair down in high heels," I told her. "Besides, who cares?"
Apparently, she sure does. I embrace my role as la gringa despeinada. Dirty feet, unpainted fingernails and all. Though, I do wish I could wear my hair down a little more often.
At least I have someone here telling me la verdad!
Thankfully I have had some minor victories to bouy my spirits against such blows.
My first women´s business group meeting had a fantastic turnout of 25 women. The second meeting had 20. We made our shampoo, and it is pretty decent. All the women are excited to make some minor changes, and then a little money.
With a little luck and a modest request, I was able to win a small grant to fund our training and a few batches of experimental soap and shampoo as well as some hardware. Thanks US embassy. Though it is only a little money, the women seem to encouraged by it, and it has definitely encouraged me, too.
The last few days of August will be as jam packed as the rest of this month has been, and September, so far, is looking pretty busy. Thank god.
I can´t believe August is almost over. How time flies in the developing world.
Other tidbits:
- I am now accepting donations to add to my personal bank account. My Cause? Coming home at some point. My plan had been for Christmas and New Years, but things have been working against me. If you would like to make a donation, please let me know. haha.
- After a very awkward conversation with the Birdman, my questions have been answered, and all is well in El Salvador. We will continue "caminando juntos" for the time being. I´m glad for it.
- I learned a lot of good shit during a three day in-service training session in Ataco with all my favorite PCVs. It´s days like those I feel the full impact of my great luck in knowing such chivo people.
- My veggie garden is coming in full force. I expanded my beds and will be moving around my tomato plants. I´m nerdily excited about it, and my neighbors are impressed that I know how to dig holes and plant seeds. Cultural bridges. White girls also get their hands dirty.
- My nephew will be turning 7 on the Fifth day of September. He is really cool. Here´s a shoutout to my riot of a sobrino, Connor.
Future Butterfly, attached to my plastic chair
He waits
My Wall of Recuerdos. Thanks to Kelsey for amping
up my photo collection with a recent package.
My Salvi friends consider you a great photo artist.
As do I, of course.
My Salvi friends consider you a great photo artist.
As do I, of course.
Daily blossoms
Making Shampoo
Making Shampoo, still.
The day I stop being amazed by ants....
Ugh.
SUPER UGH
They eat mosquitos, so I´ve been told. I like them even more now.Monday, August 23, 2010
Gotta get me a Buzz
The view across Lago Cojutepeque,where I spent a great night kicking damn near full bottles of rum into
the great depths, making merry with The Hinkle duo and Alex,
and, less fortunately, contracting a horrendo enfermedad.
A Family of worms, eating the leaves off my jocote tree.
Lil´bichos out in front of Niña Carmen´s house at La Barra de Santiago
Look how cuuuteee, and smaller than the word picturesque....Nothing like a little Jane Austen.
On Tuesday, I witnessed the fall of my best US import. My french press slipped from my soapy hands and landed on the rocks next to my pila. It was a rough moment. But I gathered up the peices, consoling myself with the fact that I still have my big coffee machine that I inherited from the previous PCV. Not all was lost.
At 5:30 a.m. Friday, as I stumbled out to my pila with chelitos in my eyes, I reached out, glass coffee pot in hand, and hit the corner of the cement lavadora just right with the edge of the carafe, and crack. Done for.
El Salvador is major coffee producing country, and you can get some gooooood java in this place, if you have the means to brew it yourself.
Despite the coffee production, no one here uses real coffee. All the best stuff is exported, the next best stuff is bought by those who can afford it, and the rest of the population use Cafe Listo.
To me, instant is not an option. I need that early morning hit that only 2-10 cups of real, black coffee can give. In fact, along with having electricity and not having dengue, the switch from crap coffee to real coffee was a huge factor in the move from my old house to my own house. So now I begin my seach for a new coffee pot.
Upcoming events: Tomorrow we're making shampoo! Really excited to see how it goes. Tomorrow morning I'll also be hosting the Bird for a cup of coffee, and hopefully get a few interesting responses to a few scandalous questions. Wednesday is the start of IST. Very excited to see all my fellow COED and Muni PCVs in the fresco clima of Ataco.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Bus Lag
Roller Coaster. Thats what I imagined during my 4 am trip this morning. The inevitable snoozing Salvadorans crammed into a microbus on a windy mountain hill. They´re dreaming of rollercoasters.
I had my own rollercoaster thoughts bouncing around in my brains. After spending a weekend traveling across the country (Perquin, Morazan with my Pato followed shortly by some time in Atiqizaya, Ahuachapan with the other feathered enigma) I felt like I had been going in ridiculous circles.
What the hell am I doing in El Salvador, anyway? Do I have my priorities in order? Shouldn´t I have been in my site all weekend, instead of crossing the country, dancing in the mountains and then going to a western pueblo, where I felt like I was running into big cultural and language barriers, over and over again. I don´t know.
Ok, so...
Here´s the thing about the bird.
Initially: Curious to see what this loon was all about, at least for the sake of knowing. Nothing to worry about.
A little later: Could be something to worry about. I´m going to throw out some cliche, but more or less accurate words to clear it up - kind, respectable, magnetic and hilarious.
Now... For this visit, all those nice adjectives were in full force for the duration of day one. BUT, Day two... well, I felt pretty lame. Like an idiot, like a pain, like I should have gone home much, much sooner.
So, if I had to guess what the next step would be, my guess will be a mutual fizzle, because I don´t like feeling like an idiot and he doesn´t seem to like listening to me speak so much. haha. Which is kind of a problem for both of us. Maybe it was just a blip, but either way, I´m not going to worry about it.
All I know is that I feel good back in my house, where the pan is integral and the coffee is black. I am super excited for a week full of useful work. A women´s business group, an ecocina demonstration, and an Asamblea General? BLAMMO!
Now I just have to write a damn grant... without my computer. Wish me luck
With love!
Jessica
I had my own rollercoaster thoughts bouncing around in my brains. After spending a weekend traveling across the country (Perquin, Morazan with my Pato followed shortly by some time in Atiqizaya, Ahuachapan with the other feathered enigma) I felt like I had been going in ridiculous circles.
What the hell am I doing in El Salvador, anyway? Do I have my priorities in order? Shouldn´t I have been in my site all weekend, instead of crossing the country, dancing in the mountains and then going to a western pueblo, where I felt like I was running into big cultural and language barriers, over and over again. I don´t know.
Ok, so...
Here´s the thing about the bird.
Initially: Curious to see what this loon was all about, at least for the sake of knowing. Nothing to worry about.
A little later: Could be something to worry about. I´m going to throw out some cliche, but more or less accurate words to clear it up - kind, respectable, magnetic and hilarious.
Now... For this visit, all those nice adjectives were in full force for the duration of day one. BUT, Day two... well, I felt pretty lame. Like an idiot, like a pain, like I should have gone home much, much sooner.
So, if I had to guess what the next step would be, my guess will be a mutual fizzle, because I don´t like feeling like an idiot and he doesn´t seem to like listening to me speak so much. haha. Which is kind of a problem for both of us. Maybe it was just a blip, but either way, I´m not going to worry about it.
All I know is that I feel good back in my house, where the pan is integral and the coffee is black. I am super excited for a week full of useful work. A women´s business group, an ecocina demonstration, and an Asamblea General? BLAMMO!
Now I just have to write a damn grant... without my computer. Wish me luck
With love!
Jessica
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Where am I?
Still home sweet home, indeed.
Starting sometime between 7 and 8 p.m. every evening, I am ridiculously bored.
If it is raining, I can scurry around, moving guacales to catch the streams of water pouring from my roof into my house.
If my host family dogs have decided to spend the night on my side of town on my patio, I can spend a few minutes talking to them and throwing meaningless threats at them. We all know I won't hit them, so they don't even stir.
If my computer wasn't broken, I could use that to watch a movie, listen to podcasts or edit photos. But it's screwed up, too.
The books I have in my house are cien por ciento bad. Books in english here can be expensive, so I've been trying to rotate through various selections from the Peace Corps office. They all suck. I just finished a terrible "travel tale" because I had nothing else to do. Hey, buddy, just because you decided to leave your super senior year at university, 7 credits short of graduation and move to mexico to do blow and screw tourists, doesn't mean you're qualified to write a book.
But I digress.
I finally broke out the Polymer clay my mom sent me some months back.
I made a super badass ring. I put it in the oven, and it bubbled, melted and smoked.
Damn.
I re-made it.
Same thing.
So I called my mom. She made a few suggestions, but footnoted her ideas with "make sure to clean out the toaster oven and air your house out really well, that plastic is not good to be breathing in."
I told her I would. But I kind of laughed in my head.
I kept it to myself that just earlier that day I was standing in my yard, putting matches to a plastic bag of toilet paper, a churritos bag and various other pieces of debris that people threw into my yard.
I also didn't mention that my fire was a tenth of the size of the fires of my neighbors, and that they don't make it a point to pack all the plastic and paper garbage they can into the Sonsonate bus terminal garbage bins, like I do.
Nor did I mention that damn near every cooking fire in this country is started with a little wood and a whole lot of plastic or styrofoam.
Breathe it in. Deep.
There is no point in mentioning any of that. Because my mom is still right. The toxic residue from the clay probably should be scrubbed out, and my windows should have been open. I think it is just easy to lose sight of what makes sense when you live in a way that forces you to do and accept things that are absolutely lunatic. - burning trash, pouring bleach and detergent into rivers, not refrigerating your eggs, and drinking cafe listo, to name a few.
I finally got a ring to come out right. And a few hairpins, too. I shook my fists at the dogs, locked my gate and went to bed, listening to the rain hitting the bottom of a guacal, and wanting to tear apart whatever lame book I am subjecting myself to until I can fall asleep at last.
Starting sometime between 7 and 8 p.m. every evening, I am ridiculously bored.
If it is raining, I can scurry around, moving guacales to catch the streams of water pouring from my roof into my house.
If my host family dogs have decided to spend the night on my side of town on my patio, I can spend a few minutes talking to them and throwing meaningless threats at them. We all know I won't hit them, so they don't even stir.
If my computer wasn't broken, I could use that to watch a movie, listen to podcasts or edit photos. But it's screwed up, too.
The books I have in my house are cien por ciento bad. Books in english here can be expensive, so I've been trying to rotate through various selections from the Peace Corps office. They all suck. I just finished a terrible "travel tale" because I had nothing else to do. Hey, buddy, just because you decided to leave your super senior year at university, 7 credits short of graduation and move to mexico to do blow and screw tourists, doesn't mean you're qualified to write a book.
But I digress.
I finally broke out the Polymer clay my mom sent me some months back.
I made a super badass ring. I put it in the oven, and it bubbled, melted and smoked.
Damn.
I re-made it.
Same thing.
So I called my mom. She made a few suggestions, but footnoted her ideas with "make sure to clean out the toaster oven and air your house out really well, that plastic is not good to be breathing in."
I told her I would. But I kind of laughed in my head.
I kept it to myself that just earlier that day I was standing in my yard, putting matches to a plastic bag of toilet paper, a churritos bag and various other pieces of debris that people threw into my yard.
I also didn't mention that my fire was a tenth of the size of the fires of my neighbors, and that they don't make it a point to pack all the plastic and paper garbage they can into the Sonsonate bus terminal garbage bins, like I do.
Nor did I mention that damn near every cooking fire in this country is started with a little wood and a whole lot of plastic or styrofoam.
Breathe it in. Deep.
There is no point in mentioning any of that. Because my mom is still right. The toxic residue from the clay probably should be scrubbed out, and my windows should have been open. I think it is just easy to lose sight of what makes sense when you live in a way that forces you to do and accept things that are absolutely lunatic. - burning trash, pouring bleach and detergent into rivers, not refrigerating your eggs, and drinking cafe listo, to name a few.
I finally got a ring to come out right. And a few hairpins, too. I shook my fists at the dogs, locked my gate and went to bed, listening to the rain hitting the bottom of a guacal, and wanting to tear apart whatever lame book I am subjecting myself to until I can fall asleep at last.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Rain on My Parade
Well, as usual things have been just insane here in The Little Coconut.
I have been amping up my community time since I moved into my new pad. My Spanish is getting better - except for a disastrous comedor experience with Danny Clarahan in Sonsonate - people are finally "tu-ing" me, and my house is full of watermelons that my neighbors and friends have gifted to me. I've been doing house visits here and there, and despite the initial awkwardness, they feel good.
The other day I had about 7 visitors over throughout the day. If I could just get those jovenes on the corner to not make kissy sounds at me when I pass, life would be 100 percent.
And then it happened.
"Your 'tio' (the codename my host family and I have for my devilish counterpart) was over yesterday. And he was talking about you." My Tio was talking mad smack, turns out. "Los de Cuerpo de Paz... He said, do nothing. The guy that was up in Jujutla or Juayua, he just wandered around, gallavanting, never worked... Looks like we have the same problem on our hands." Ben and milena defended me, saying that I go to everything, that I participate and talk to everyone.
"Naaaaahh," he said, "you're just defending her because you consider her family."
So, I HAD been having a great morning - the details of which I shall get to shortly - and then I heard all this, and I wanted to cry for the first time since I've been here. How dare that so and so say those things, he just wants me to throw money into his pockets and give things to the people he finds worthy.
I got home, heated up my tortilla, fed my one remaining bird, and decided thoroughly that my tio can lump it. I'll show him. I made a mental list of all the things I had done that day and I have to say, I'm not doing nothing. I decided to address the expectations and role of Cuerpo de Paz at the next ADESCO meeting. That jerk.
Va.
I have been amping up my community time since I moved into my new pad. My Spanish is getting better - except for a disastrous comedor experience with Danny Clarahan in Sonsonate - people are finally "tu-ing" me, and my house is full of watermelons that my neighbors and friends have gifted to me. I've been doing house visits here and there, and despite the initial awkwardness, they feel good.
The other day I had about 7 visitors over throughout the day. If I could just get those jovenes on the corner to not make kissy sounds at me when I pass, life would be 100 percent.
And then it happened.
"Your 'tio' (the codename my host family and I have for my devilish counterpart) was over yesterday. And he was talking about you." My Tio was talking mad smack, turns out. "Los de Cuerpo de Paz... He said, do nothing. The guy that was up in Jujutla or Juayua, he just wandered around, gallavanting, never worked... Looks like we have the same problem on our hands." Ben and milena defended me, saying that I go to everything, that I participate and talk to everyone.
"Naaaaahh," he said, "you're just defending her because you consider her family."
So, I HAD been having a great morning - the details of which I shall get to shortly - and then I heard all this, and I wanted to cry for the first time since I've been here. How dare that so and so say those things, he just wants me to throw money into his pockets and give things to the people he finds worthy.
I got home, heated up my tortilla, fed my one remaining bird, and decided thoroughly that my tio can lump it. I'll show him. I made a mental list of all the things I had done that day and I have to say, I'm not doing nothing. I decided to address the expectations and role of Cuerpo de Paz at the next ADESCO meeting. That jerk.
Va.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Home Sweet Home, or Making a Nest
The Kids playing with the glow sticks (sent by mom back home)
Part two
Casi Angeles
My Spare room
My Kitchen, messy
My Bedroom, Messy
My Living Room
From the "yard"
The View from the Ground
The View from the Porch
I've got a bunch of Bananas!
This is what they look like...
My lime tree bears fruit
Well, thats the tour of my new house. It's really big, but I dig it, big time. Fifty dollars a month in rent, and today I got my first electricity bill, $2.95. Killer.
Living alone has changed the experience here pretty thoroughly. Parts I like - cooking my own food, having electricity, privacy, drop-in visits from neighbors, living in the calle principal, and parts I don't like - too much alone time, not having the pots and pans to cook my own beans still, and having the occasional day where I spend my hours just trying to kill time before I can justify going to bed.
Such is life.
Such is life.
But the good news is I have made some new friends on this end of town, and my friend Milena has broken her promise of "never coming to visit me" and has been by many times.
The other day I heard the sad news that one of my first amigos here in El Cocalito jumped ship and is on his way for the USA. I hardly could believe it, as he had a steady income, a family of three young kids and a loving wife. It came out of nowhere. "He had some troubles," my friends say. I got a text message from him the other night from Guatemala. He really is going. I wished him well, and warned him that the USA is full of Gringas Pasmadas, a claim he negated, saying that all the Gringas Pasmadas went to El Salvador. I am really going to miss having him around to joke and shoot the shit with, but I hope that his trip goes smoothly.
In other news, I had a date with a Salvadoran this morning. It started an hour late, and more or less was successful. I will write a whole blog entry on these developments just as soon as I can stop laughing.
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