One last birthday present...

Monday, August 26, 10pm 

Remember how I said never to look down into the latrine? 

Scratch that. 

Always look down.

This way you can see the cockroaches congregating on the latrine seat, scream, and add another phobia to your list. 

Go shortay, it's yo birthday

Monday, August 26, 9pm

It's my birthday and I feel absolutely, positively loved! Because I have an August birthday I'll be spending 24, 25 and 26 here in El Salvador. I'm happy to report that the first of three PC birthdays went swimmingly. Here's a recap:

6:30am: Wake up, bucket bathe, eat juevos rancheros, chit chat with my host mom about how awesome I am and how she's so happy to have me. Get a great text from my birth mom, and I'm excited to start the day! 

8:30am: Spanish class. I was really happy because we worked on the perfect tenses, which I cannot use perfectly. See what I did there? 

12noon: Get amazeballz coffee compliments of my Spanish teacher. Coffee Lovers is the new Starbucks. 

1pm: Soup! I've been waiting to eat soup all month! 

Soup= a bunch of boiled stuff. It's delicious. 

2pm: Review dirty words with my Spanish class. For science! I mean, so we don't make fools of ourselves in site. 

3:30pm: Everyone pile in the PC micro to go to the KARAOKE BAR! Guess that song!

Maria and me!

SanAn represent! 

Maria and Amanda. Man, they feel like women! 

They tried to make me and Anne go to rehab, but we said no, no, no! 

We even had backup dancers!

Open up your heart and you'll find love, love love. And Kai. 

Great action shot. We're so lucky, we are stars, but we cry cry cry in our lovely hearts thinkin, if there's nothing missing in our lives then why do these teeeears come at night?

Solo. I can't do what ten people tell me to do, so I guess I'll remain the same! 

Luke and I. We sang them a song, because we're the piano... People? Ok, that one was a bit of a stretch. 

Sneak attack happy birthday song! And then "In Da Club" came on and a new PC birthday tradition was born. 

6pm: My host family knows how much I love pizza! Dinner with my SanAn family! 

My host mom. Those pizzas had to travel a long ways to get to the campo. 

Me and my family. 

My besties. 

My happy birthday signs. And I caught the majestic eagle between photos. 

7:30pm: Call my birth parents and tell them all about Immersion Days and my birthday. I miss them terribly but I'm honestly truly happy here, and I know I can do this. I think they're happy for me too. I'm happy they're happy I'm happy! 

9ish: Summarize my wonderful birthday for your reading pleasure. 

Love you all, and I'll keep you updated on how Super Weekend goes! Besos! 

 

Salvadorans sure know how to party

Sunday, August 25, 9pm

The past week has been very pro-PC. I had a great time at Immersion Days and tonight really brought it all home. Literally. After a four hour bus ride it felt great to be back en el campo. 

Tonight we celebrated Anne, a fellow PCT's, birthday. It without a doubt topped any childhood birthday party I've ever been to! I say childhood because it doesn't matter if you're turning four or twenty four- there will be games, there will be piñatas, and there will be cake. It's a far cry from tequila shots and shooting flaming arrows into the sky, but what crazy person would do that on their birthday....

Dance party with PCTs and our host siblings. Notice the pink elephant piñata.

Maria y yo in our party masks. 

Kai, Maria, Catherine, and birthday girl Anne.

Josephine did the Salvadoran smile, which is to not smile. These girls are adorable. They're annoying when you're trying to study, but they are gorgeous and more hilarious than they know. Still, I'm glad they live with the other PCT!

Josephine and Kenya- I should've taken a video because this picture doesn't do their body rolls and booty shaking justice. I guess growing up on Shakira = amazing dance moves. 

Me and Marcia, the PCT who lives with Josephine and Kenya. PCT Franko Suave in the back, probably laughing at the scene we made when "In Da Club" came on. 

After all the dancing and games we ate delicious chocolate and carmel cake. I thought the party was winding down, but nooooooo no no. Salvadorans have a special birthday tradition that is slightly horrifying and totally dangerous. As if smashing Anne's face in her cake wasn't enough, the local futbol team laid Anne across their arms and threw her entire body in the air twenty three times! I chose to watch this spectacle at a safe distance from inside the house, innocently enjoying my life with both feet firmly planted on the ground. And of course, some genius told the futbol team that it was MY birthday tomorrow and I'm turning TWENTY FOUR! 

******I will upload the video as soon as I have more Internet 

As some of you may know, I have a mild fear of being carried after the infamous piggy back incident of 2009 with my best friend Christi. Teeth were lost, people! Not my teeth, but still, it was traumatic. So for me, being thrown in the air twenty four times is the truly the stuff of malaria medicine nightmares. 

But I gotta admit, it made me pretty excited to ring in 24 years of life in this crazy, beautiful country. 

Immersion Days

Sunday, August 25

Annnnnd I'm back! I have a lot to update you on! Hope you're ready for a ramble because I don't have a lot of time to write but I want to include as much detail as I can remember: 

Today I got back from Immersion Days which is a four day long trip where PCTs visit PCVs currently in site. The goal of Immersion Days is to overwhelm you, make you feel isolated and lonely, and in all likelihood make you poop your pants. I'm sure PC Washington wouldn't agree with that description, but I'm here to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth and they want you to poop your pants. 

Let me explain. This past month (one month down, 26 to go, YEAH!) has been more or less comfortable. Yes, the latrines and bucket baths have been a downer for me, but many other PCTs haven't had to live the campo life like me. Our host families are very careful when they cook our food, and really try to not get us sick. Didn't work too well for me, but the intestinal infection wasn't thaaat bad. I was expecting it to be a lot worse. Trainee life is structured with classes and community contact visits (interviewing influential people in your community). Plus, our SanAn group does the workout classes during the week so we never have down time (whether we like it or not). 

Immersion Days is supposed to toughen you up and test your willingness to serve under conditions of hardship, but what I did this past weekend felt like vacation. Me and Amanda (another PCT) were sent to visit Ariel, a youth development volunteer in Las Palmas. Right now there are only youth development PCVs in El Salvador. My cohort is the first COED PCTs they've had since the security downsize! Anyways, we arrived in Las Palmas and enjoyed milkshakes and burritos with a few other PCVs and their PCTs (lots of acronyms, sorry). It was heavenly. 

Relaxing!

Me and Amanda stayed with Dr. Oscar, this incredibly kind man, and his equally incredible family. We had showers (freezing, but with water pressure!) and, GET THIS, a flush toilet. I slept on a bed that I could roll over on and not fall off! I didn't even need my mosquito net! 

Dr. Oscar and me with Whinnie, his dog.

Me and Amanda with Dr. Oscar and family. 

Beans on beans on beans. 

Friday morning we took a bus up the mountain (literally, above-the-clouds mountain) to meet other PCVs who were doing a charla at the school on volunteerism. There were lots of kids and they were all screaming and loud. Being in that school reinforced my opinions on children. But it was fun to play Simon Says with them as one of the dinamicas (games that break up the boringness of lectures). 

Amanda y yo leading Simon Dice. 

View in the mountains. 

Amanda, Ariel, me. 

I helped teach an English class, went to an Internet cafe, haggled for a new bag, and ate more pupusas. It was a fun weekend! Nice try Peace Corps, but you don't scare me!!!

An added bonus- PCVs have the uncanny ability to attract gringos, and that's how we met Joe, a British guy biking from Cancun to Chile. He was awesome! 

New friends!

I just hope he had a relaxing time during his stay in Las Palmas and had a safe ride to the next stop in his journey. Joe if you're reading this- please be careful and let us know how you're doing! 

Sunday morning we woke up at the buttcrack of dawn to eat quesadillas with Ariel's host mom. Quesadillas here are cheesey bread, and they are delicious. We got to watch them get made in a wood burning oven. 

Shout out to my dad! I really have to get the recipe! 

All in all, Immersion Days was a success. I can't wait to get my own PCT in July! 

Keep on keepin on

I've kinda been slacking on my blog. Yes, I've been busy doing stuff but nothing seemed too remarkable, definitely not worth a blog post. But then I got to Google Hangout (Plug of the day! Hey, when am I going to get paid for these prime product placements!?) with my parents and I realized you have no idea what's going on unless I tell you. 

And so, here's what I've been up to:  

My host brother got a motorcycle. Motos are actually the best way to get around the dirt roads, so everyone has one. Here's my host brother and his nephew, Byron. 

This kid is so cute!

Yes, that's a minion sticker. On a brand new motorcycle. My mom wouldn't even let me out the honor roll stickers on her car when I was a kid, and they slapped on a Despicable Me sticker. 

On Saturday we went to an anthropology museum in San Salvador. It was interesting to see all the Mayan stuff they found all over El Salvador. 

Corn Fest! 

Here's a painting at the museum that reminded me of my grandma. Before I left we death marched the entire Art Institute of Chicago. My feet were killing me, but it's a small price to pay to hang out with my grandma! 

I ate Wendy's for lunch and all was good in the world. 

Here's a typical breakfast:

Frijoles, platanos fritos, crema (cross between sour cream and cream cheese), pan, cafe 

I'll try to take more pictures of typical Salvadoran food. My intestines are doing great btw! 

Hope alls well in the US! 

Besos,

Ale 

Corn Fest

Sunday, August 18 

Every August in my adopted hometown of Bloomington-Normal, gem of the luscious Land of Lincoln, there is a celebration of sorts we like to call Corn Fest. What is Corn Fest you ask? Corn Fest is the  most glorious time of year when all the Normalites fill the streets of Uptown, get out the 'ol steamers and cook up some of the sweetest corn you ever did eat. Free corn with your student ID! Mmmm come 'n get it!

Basically, Corn Fest is the most Midwestern thing I've ever experienced in my life. 

I was surprised to find out that Nuevo Cuscatlan (the community where PST is located) does Corn Fest too. Of course, there is a Salvadoran twist. The Catholic church runs this Festival del Maiz and they do it BIG. They sell tons of comida tipico like fried yucca, deep fried yucca puffs, fried tamales, fried corn mash. Sensing a trend here? And of course there's elote loco (corn on the cob with mayonnaise, ketchup and cheese) and this other pudding stuff that's made from corn. It's not so bad! 

Throughout the festival teenage girls will come up to you and ask you to buy a vote so they can be the Reyna del Maiz. It's only 5 cents and all benefits go to the church, they say! Now of course, the notion of "buying" votes gives the patriotic American in me a tinge of disapproval, but I really want to see what being a corn queen entails. So I give her 5 cents, and she's off. 

Later in the festival all the girls running for corn queen come on stage dressed in ornate dresses made of corn husks. Yes, corn dresses. Some were pretty fancy too! Others were a bit of a stretch (in more ways than one). There were about 8 girls total with ages ranging from 7-years-old to "Dear god, your mother let you out of the house in that dress!?" The girl I paid won the corn queen crown and led the corn parade down the streets of Nuevo. All the runner-ups sat on the hoods of beat up Hondas fitted with corn stalks and streamers and threw candy to their admirers along the parade route. A man set off fireworks from his bare hand and the chuchos barked in the streets. 

 Festival del Maiz- you're doing it right.

Holy corn Fest 

The news came out to film all the corn festivities. 

Corn parade.

Where are my earplugs?!

Monday, August 19, 9pm

I've said it before and I'll say it again- Salvadorans are tone deaf. The dogs howl in the streets whenever they sing. Maybe the dogs think they can sing better than the humans, or maybe they just want to cover up the terrible screeching sound coming from their mouths. I listen to the dogs, then I listen to the people, and I think it's a little of both.

I've stopped going to church because it's in a dangerous area. It only took 3 weeks for someone to finally tell me about all the bad things that happen on this isolated stretch of road leading to the church.  Thanks guys, 'bout time! One good thing about missing church is that I don't have to suffer through the church choir's pain inducing rendition of gospel hymns. Nails on a chalk board ain't got nothing on the three women who simultaneously scream a wrong note into the mic at my church. It's what harmony must sound like in hell. 

You think I'm exaggerating? Check out my host dad. I was just doing my homework at the table, quietly minding my own business, when a wild Salvadoran with a red guitar appeared! I had to take a video so you know what I'm talking about:

In his defense, the guitar is incredibly out of tune. Maybe that's what I can do- import guitar tuners!

But if that fails there's always earplugs. 

This made me LOL

I'd cry if I wasn't so tired

Peace Corps has a funny way of making me cry. I cried during a health session when the doctor was describing a clean, white porcelain toilet. I really miss toilets. I cried when I heard Phil Collins. I don't miss 80's music, but I miss my mom. I also cried when I was telling my new friends about my favorite bar. I really miss going out. 

Yesterday I found out that my recent stomach issues are the result of an acute intestinal infection. Well, that made me cry too. I'm not in extreme pain, I'm just tired. But getting sick- really sick, not just a cold- is making this whole Peace Corps thing real. 

I called my family last night and they were celebrating my cousin/best friend's birthday. They were eating cheesecake. Cheeeeeeesecake. The king of all cakes. I would have cried myself to sleep if I wasn't so exhausted. 

I question if I can do this all the time. The ups and downs come every minute, every hour, every day. 

Today I got my first wave of letters, and it felt amazing. Thank you mom, dad, Tate, grandma and Ben! Eventhough the Internet is faster it still feels good to hold a letter. 

I'll keep you updated on my intestines! I'm surviving and getting better! 

My letters!

The messier the better

Tuesday, August 13 

 

I was going to write separate posts for these stories, but it's past my bedtime. All sleep is precious sleep when the roosters start at 4am. 

I think I've done a decent job the past three weeks of integrating into my community. I wear long pants during the day and I can "surf" in the bed of a truck. But there is one thing I just still cannot get over- Salvadorans do not pee. Never. I don't even think they have bladders. I've never seen anyone in my host family go to the latrine, and I don't blame them. It smells bad and spiders jump up and bite your butt! But when you gotta go, you gotta go. 

So last night in the middle of the night during the nighttime rain I just had to go pee. Couldn't wait. I made it to the latrine fine, but on my way back I made sure to keep my eyes on the ground so I didn't fall in the mud and oh. my. god. 

Right in the pathway to the house there was the ugliest drowned opossum that you ever did see. I freaked out and ran the rest of the way to my room. The worst part is that this morning when I went to take my bucket bath (with warm medicine water mmmmm) it was STILL THERE. I honestly tried taking a picture just so I could show you how gross this thing was, but you get the idea. When I asked my host mom whyyyy the opossum was decaying so close to the house, she told me that Taz (our guard dog) killed the opossum because it was trying to eat the baby chicks. So I guess when you put it that way, it's good the nasty opossum was dead in the path because otherwise I might not have dinner in a few weeks. 

It really seems like the messier the better in El Salvador. Today we had 25 women and children (and one annoying drunk man) show up for our SanAn exercise class. I somehow managed to run and do push ups and jumping jacks before noticing that one shoe felt different than the other. But oh well, it's probably just all the mud. Right? 

We picked teams to play softball as our "team sport" time of the class. I mean, I guess you could call it softball. There are four bases, a ball, a bat. But with different rules because you can still run to first even if you didn't hit the ball? And the little kids never get called out, no matter how much they suck. When I stepped up to bat I heard my nickname, "Cheecago!" and thankfully I managed a hit! Even the youngest kids were able to swing the wooden log we called a bat with ease, but when I picked it up the thing felt like a ton of lead. Yes, it was literally a wooden log somewhat chiseled into the shape of a baseball bat.  

But what was up with my shoe? Both of my feet are equally covered with mud at this point, so I start to take off my left shoe hoping to god nothing will fall out. But no. I am not graced with good fortune. Crushed into the big toe of my muddy shoe was a big, black spider. Of course there are spiders living in my shoes. Why not/Por que no?

The messier the better and the mess is alright. 

Everybody loves pupusas

Monday August 12, 7pm

Today we had our first meeting for our PCT mandated community service project. I was fairly surprised that ten young people showed up (albeit 40 minutes late because time is irrelevant in Latin America). They were laughing and engaged in the conversation. I didn't feel scared to speak to the kids because they'd rather ask me about the snow in Chicago than correct my grammar Angelica, the Language and Culture Facilitator for SanAn, helped us tell the kids what Cuerpo de Paz does and why we would want to work with the youth in the community. They all seemed on board with starting a service club, so 10 for San Antonio! You go, San Antonio! The real fun started after Angelica left. We asked the kids if they had any questions for the goofy Americans. They wanted to know our favorite food (pizza), favorite pastime (dancing with my friends), and what's the hardest word to say in Spanish (arrrrrrraiyan). We then surprised them by singing the pupusa song we learned in class today while cooking pupusas. Yes! Salvadorans love their pupusas so much they made a song about loving pupusas. Every Salvadoran must learn this song in the womb because their pitchy voices joined in with us. We were loud enough to challenge the thunder! And of course there was thunder, we're up to 5 times a day rainstorms. I hear September is even worse.... I still feel pretty crappy, but at least it was a good day. Here's some pictures of me and the others learning how to make pupusas during Spanish class!

In the red bucket are balls of corn mash "dough" that you flatten out in your hand, then you put beans, cheese, lorroco (national flower of El Salvador- tastes pretty good too!) and ejote (or elote, I can't remember which but its some kind of squash like vegetable) in the middle. Nice smile, Maria!

Then you pinch it up into a ball, slap it flat again and cook on both sides until the corn mash part is brown. From left: Maria, Kai, Marcia, Asiha. 

Me, all sweaty making pupusas. 

The red stuff is tomato sauce. You usually eat pupusas with cortido (vinegar coleslaw) and tomato sauce made from boiled tomatoes in a blender. The things Salvadorans make with their blenders will surprise you...

Maria, looking like a pupusas advertisement. Hi Maria's mom! 

Freezing

 August 11 9pm

Today I got to talk to my family and my grandma. I miss them, and I miss my old life. Ya know, the life I had before latrines and rainy seasons, and constantly having to ask myself "was that too direct?" People's feelings here are more fragile than pazzoli. It doesn't feel like only three weeks. It feels like I've lived here for months, and I'm never ever going to leave.

I remember reading the blog of a PCV somewhere in South America, I think Paraguay. She said one of the most important things she packed was a hoodie and sweatpants.  Weird, I thought. Isn't it hot down there?

Well now I can vouch for that PCV that yes, it gets VERY cold even when you're every close to the equator. I'm freezing my butt off right now and I have my socks, sweatpants, and hoodie on. I also have two blankets, but they're thin little things. 

The rain is pouring down on my metal roof, and it's loud. I can see my breath when I exhale hard, but my throat is scratchy so I don't want to do that again. I think it's safe to say it is cold. My nose is cold too, and after rubbing it just now I realized I forgot to wash my face. If I wasn't shivering on my foam mattress I'd get up and use the fancy shmancy face wipes I bought from Target. They're made with cucumbers, so you know they're Eco friendly. But using Eco friendly face wipes seems like such a stupid pointless thing when there is garbage EVERYWHERE YOU STEP in this country.

I'm freezing and tired and bored and lonely. This is the fourth time it's rained today, and it's the nighttime rain that'll go until about midnight. I hate that I sweat all day and then I shiver all night. I think I'm getting sick. I really hope it's not dengue. 

PC is all about ups and downs. Right now, I'm feeling down. 

When in the house of wifi, write a post

This week has been crazy busy. I can't even begin to go over everything. One day when I have more time I'll have to write a post about going to the fair in San Salvador. Let's just say it was pretty intense.....

Kai, Maria and me have been doing bootcamp on Tuesdays and Zumba on Thursdays with the local mujeres jovenes (women 14-25). It's amazing. Even though we come home from class tired and smelly, we always dig deep and work out with the women. I can tell that they really appreciate the time to unwind and have fun. Young women in this country go to school or work and have a ton of responsibilities around the house helping their mothers. Of course, men don't do anything. (My host dad works 24 hour shifts and my host brother does yard work, so I let them slide.) It's just something we started because we wanted to work off all the tortillas and pupusas, but it's evolved into a standing date with the community.

Today we found out from our Spanish teacher that the SanAn group is a little famous in Peace Corps. Apparently we are the first training community to ever do community organizing without any prompting from the country staff. We're a hot commodity! I am so proud of us. It just got better as we walked around SanAn and women would come up to us and ask about Zumba, all the local tienda owners let us put up flyers, and one woman even said told us "finally, someone comes to San Antonio who is part of us." This was huge. My host dad was even telling me over breakfast how our group is the only PC group that has even spent time with the other young people in the community. I guess the  groups in years passed only hung out together.

All the positive feedback really picked us up. It is NOT easy being the only three living in el campo. Honestly, it sucks. Right now I'm at a fancy house with wifi and a flush toilet. The kitchen is inside and they have a sofa. This is pure luxury. I have a hard time controlling my envy when I visit places like this, knowing that other PCTs got the better deal.

But then I remid myself that I'm making a difference in my community. And that's (almost) worth all the flushes in the world. 

My new life

Pictures!!!

Me and my family

My house

My room

My room

The very patriotic 3D sign my host brother gave me 

The sink where we wash clothes, plates, etc

My shower (water in bucket) 

The stove 

I hate these roosters 

My house from the entrance 

Path to the women's cooperative my host mom is part of

My toilet 

Taz (Tasmanian devil) our guard dog that I do not touch because he has fleas 

View from our "classroom" at my house 

This was the hummingbird bug

Our kittens. Their mom died because she ate a big bird.