Joy

I'll hit the one year mark as a sworn-in PCV this Friday. It's amazing how quickly time has flown. My little mountain community has been welcoming, loving, and absolutely unforgettable this past year. When I was weathering a bad patch (aka the month of June) I was given the advice to surround myself with people who love and support me, and essentially forget the haters. Making that change has made all the difference. I now have a grant awarded to my youth group and I'm making moves on the housing project with Habitat for Humanity. I'm helping the people who have helped me and that makes these projects feel extra special. 

This month we have Mid-Service Conference, which really is an opportunity to reflect on not only why we're here but why we stay here every day. (Don't think for a minute that I've forgotten hot showers, furniture that doesn't swing, and our privacy bubble culture. I miss those things dearly, but I know I'll get them back some day.) The answer to these questions is different for every PCV. I believe my reasons have shifted. I actually don't clearly remember what I was thinking last October when I arrived here. Was I going to do sustainable development work? Maybe. I might still accomplish that. But honestly I'm more focused on bringing joy to the people of my community. I think joy can be as simple as dancing with the kids or spending the afternoon with a housewife catching up on the latest gossip. It's the saluds I say 1209382 times a day and the misshapen tortillas I make with my best friend. I wish I could describe joy better. After all, it is my middle name. I guess it's something to do with making someone else's day brighter just because you want them to feel happy and loved. 

El Salvador has survived a particularly brutal and sad past. You meet people and you see it in their eyes. They're still grieving and recovering. I could sit people down in a charla and lecture them to check off my project indicators, but I've realized that that is not why I, Ale la Voluntaria de Cuerpo de Paz, am here. And it's sure as hell not why I stay. I stay because I love my community and the people in it. I have more joy to bring during my last year.

Me and Cio making tortillas. It's actually fun when we make them together! 

I asked David to draw me something pretty, so he drew himself. 

And Aysel wanted to show off too! 

Welcome to campo life

You know you're getting old in "Peace Corps years" when another cohort from your program area arrives and you have to show them the ropes of PC life. I've never felt more integrated or just plain settled than I did this past week for Immersion Days with two trainees, Ofira and Julie.

I looked back on what I had to say on my Immersion Days last year, and I smiled to see "I can't wait to get my own PCT in July!" Immersion Days are supposed to be a laid back, ask me questions, welcome to the life experience and I think we accomplished just that. Luckily, no pants were pooped in the making of these Immersion Days.

I went to Gotera on Thursday to pick up my charges. We grabbed lunch and gabbed with some other PCV/Ts. My trainees were great with asking poignant questions. I really had to think on some like "What are your indicators for success?" and "What's the most surprising positive and negatives?"

We missed art class on Thursday, but not for lack of trying! As soon as we made it up the road a group of my kids came rushing towards us with new bracelets on. I was so proud. I've realized how much the kids love me here and truly look forward to our time together. (In case you were wondering- THAT'S my indicator for success.) We spent the rest of the day with my host family waiting out a terrible wind storm that knocked over a huge tree, thus cutting the power in my house for a few days. All the cheese went bad :(

We spent Friday morning with more Q&A and coffee time, wrapped up by going to the lookout on my host family's property. It was a hazy hot day, but the valley was just as beautiful as ever. Friday afternoon was pizza time with Niña Orbelina and Co. Last time we made pizza, I was heavily influencing the process. We used my dad's own masa recipe and they kept checking in with me to see if they were making it right. This time I let the process go as it would if I wasn't there, in an effort to let Orbe find her rhythm. It worked. She was rolling out dough and firing up the oven in a flash of concentrated effort that only comes with being a very experienced chef and entrepreneur.

Julie and Ofira helping with the masa.

Learning with Orbe and Ciomara, their host mom for Immersion Days.

Gringa pizza with crust on the left, before going in. 

Proud of our work. 

Yum!

The family posing REAL QUICK before digging in.

In true PC fashion, we had coffee by candle light at my house after pizza. Erik came over and I helped him with his English homework. He walked the trainees home and we noticed how amazing the stars were. I guess that's one plus to having the community's power knocked out.

Saturday morning we climbed to a new waterfall in La Montaña. The whole family came! Even Otinia make it up to the top with Vaquito leading the way. I tried explaining to the PCTs that climbing waterfalls is a rare experience typically reserved for special ocassions, but the truth is I go pretty.  darn. frequently.  This waterfall is smaller than the other, but still worth the climb!

On the move.

Ta da!

Ofira and Julie enjoying the posa. Cati hanging on to the irrigation tubes (which we ended up breaking shortly after). 

Climbing higher.

Welcome to PCV life! I think they like it.

Vaquito thinks he's a human, but refuses to bathe. 

Salvadorans are fearless!

Otinia, queen of the waterfall. She's the coolest 65-year-old best friend ever!

Trying to keep the irrigation tubes together. 

 We made our way back down and Ciomara, being the AMAZING host mom she is, made a delicious lunch for us still in her wet waterfall clothes. We had a quick ADESCO meeting then went to check out the sugar cane mill.

Manuel picking at the cobwebs. It hadn't been used in a while, clearly. 

At work!

Eating fresh cane. It's delicious! 

We came back and made pupusas. After dinner we spent some time talking about Salvadoran food, which I've come to love. I kept saying, "Mmmm me gusta atol chuco! Mmm me gusta arroz con leche." They tried a Salvadoran cookie called salporas, a dry and crumbly cookie that desperately needs a side of coffee. Apparently, if you want to buy salporas at the Sunday market in the pueblo you gotta take the first bus. The first bus passes by my site at 5am. So, I dragged my butt outta bed at 4:30am and rallied the PCTs! It was actually great for me because I needed to do my weekly shopping and restock the queso duro in my fridge.

We came back around 7am and enjoyed another wonderful meal by Ciomara. More coffee and chitchat, then the micro came by to whisk Ofira and Julie back to the other side of the country.

Julie making pupusas with Orbe.

One last pic with the host fam. They were great!

 It's funny. Immersion Days was supposed to be an eye-opening experience for the trainees, but I ended up learning a lot about myself and my community. I've been here a year but there's still surprises. I went to parts of my community I didn't even know existed and noticed, comparatively, just how much I've integrated into Salvadoran culture. Really simple things that make a big impact like saluding all the kids, tuning out roosters, and dealing with loud culto radio have made me into a successful, well adjusted PCV.

Not everything's perfect in campo life, but there are perfect moments. Otinia perched on the waterfall, fresh pan dulce from the oven, a bigillion stars in the sky, a gaggle of kids yelling "SALUD ALE" from the streets. That's what PCV life is about.

Good luck, future PCVs!

Tamales

I learned how to make tamales today! You know how the saying goes- if you can cook you can get married. I had 3 separate people tell me that today when my host mom told them about the gringa making tamales. I think I'll go back to eating crackers then... 

Tamales basically consist of mushy corn mash, tomato sauce, and chicken bits.

You wrap it all up in a palm frond. 

Gotta be careful not to let the mush seep out.

And it should look something like this!

Oh yaaaah fellas, this shexy gringa is ready to marry. 

You line the big pot with more palm tree parts then fill it with water.

Add more palm parts to lock in the moisture. Let cook for 1-2 hours. 

Open em up...

...and enjoy!

Kids love tamales! Here's my host niece after chowing down.

Back in action

A full week has passed since I moved to my site. It’s 8:30am on Saturday, October 12, 2013, but it might as well be noon because everyone in my house has been up since 5am. And that’s “sleeping in” around here…

I have 8oz of painstakingly brewed organic coffee from the mountains of Morazán, my home department. I bought it on a whim at the super because homegrown coffee is a rarity here. Turns out Salvadoran coffee is very bitter, but after months of drinking that instant crap I wouldn’t remember what real coffee tastes like.

I had no idea drip coffee takes so long to make…

Coffee, check. Booming Evangelical Jesus-y music, check. Host mom making tortillas in the kitchen, check. Looks like I’m ready to write a few detailed blog posts about how I got to be here.

After the swearing-in ceremony on Thursday, October 3 we were whisked away to a hotel in San Miguel for one last night together before our community guides came to take us away. I mean, move us to our new homes. We ate delicious nachos and danced to catchy gangsta rap. It was a good time.

Waking up Friday morning was rough for more than one reason. Everyone was nervous to meet their future guides. Bags packed and tummies turning, we waited.

My two community guides couldn’t be more different. One is an older woman with bite and charisma. She’s sweet and matronly, but isn’t afraid to speak up. The other is forceful and sarcastic, obviously accustomed to getting things done. I’m definitely going to have a hard time balancing the two.

My "host mom" also came to the hotel for training on “How to live with a grino.” I’ve since found out that she’s 26 years old, so I now call her my host sister. She's awesome, and she let's me do my own thing.

Freddy the Alcalde of Osicala picked us up. He speaks decent English, so we talked about my life in the US during the drive. He drove me straight to my door, which is pretty difficult considering the road is made out of boulders. We unpacked my thousand pound suitcases (no weight limit, yey!) and ate cake with the 20 family members who received me. I don’t remember most of their names, but they’re nice. The welcome was genuine and warm.

Later that night we went to the quinceñera (called ‘fiesta de rosa’ here) for the ADESCO president’s daughter. There was a live band, and the MC presented me to the party. I was doing a pretty good job of meeting people and smiling when the birthday girl brought me out on the dance floor. I danced awkwardly, being extra careful to avoid the 15 year old boys swinging their hips my way. I wished the birthday girl good health and presents, then told my community guide we should hightail it outta there.

That’s how I started my life as a Peace Corps Volunteer. 

It's official!

We had a beautiful swearing-in ceremony on October 3, 2013. It felt so freaking amazing to raise my right hand and take the same oath as thousands of Foreign Service workers, military, congressmen and women, and of course, Peace Corps Volunteers did before me. Ya know, the one where you swear to uphold the constitution of the United States of America so help you God. It’s an archaic little oath, but the significance is not wasted on me. Ever since I got the motivation to become a PCV some 3 or 4 years ago I’ve worked my butt off for this day. I applied to the Peace Corps, fully aware that they might place me in the boonies of some blistering desert or possibly in the desolate remains of the Soviet bloc. You never really know with Peace Corps, and that’s what makes applying such a special time.

I’m so fortune to be in El Salvador. My country staff is the best in the world. I really have nothing to compare them to but I’m willing to bet they beat out every other country staff in devotion and love for their PCVs. Asiha represented the PCTs in a speech that made us laugh and cry. I think she did a good job thanking the staff and our host families for helping us the past ten weeks. I feel ready to move to my new home because of them.

The best part of the ceremony was when Ambassador Mari Carmen Aponte spoke. She is the realest, most down to earth person I ever met. She started her speech in Spanish (the whole ceremony was in Spanish) but switched to English to really drive home what she wanted to say to us: Most people go through life asleep. They wake up, they go to work, they come home, make a frozen pizza and go to sleep. She told us we only really wake up when we spend our time in service to others. So thank goodness all these twenty-something PCVs are waking up early in life!

I feel like that’s a perfect description of why I’m proud to be a PCV. I want to take full advantage of my health and my youth and all the different qualities that make me me. I’m the kind of person who can learn a new language, climb a mountain, try new food, make new friends in a foreign culture. I can spend my days working to better the lives of people in my community. Why? Because I caught on to my internal drive, energy, ambition- whatever you want to call it- fairly early on and decided to act on it.

(Also, I don’t have any student loans. Thanks mom and dad!)

Not everyone knows that they’re sleeping through life. Or maybe they do, but like a bad dream they don’t know how to wake up. I really think there’s truth in what the Ambassador said. Service comes in so many forms, from helping out a friend in need to Mother Teresa. I think Peace Corps ranks somewhere in the middle of that scale. If I do anything during my service, I hope I can inspire people at home to take charge of their lives to do some good.

I want to be awake for life. Don’t you?

The Ambassador's speech 

So cheesed!

Me and the Ambassador

SanAn with Clelia

Securrrrity!

I had a feeling I wasn't supposed to say where I live online, but I did anyways. We all did! We were so excited to tell the world about our new homes we forgot about all the crazies who might want to find us. 

I changed the posts that have my canton's name. I'm going to get a PO box when I get to site and I think that's vague enough that I can post it on my blog. Don't ask me when I'll get my address please, it'll be at least a few weeks. This will give you more time to add things to my care package :)

Alone time and my fourth grade teacher

I shouldn't be surprised by now that Peace Corps is a series of ups and downs. It seems like every time I get homesick, frustrated, or burned out something beautiful happens that pulls me back in. 

I spent a lot of alone time today. Don't get me wrong, I love alone time. There's nothing I loved more in my previous life than popping in a campy romcom, settling in on the couch with big, fluffy pillows and finishing off a pint of AmeriCone flavored Ben & Jerry's. I'm one of the few women I know to like being alone in a silent house. It's weird or whatever, but I don't care. Alone time is necessary for me to decompress.

Alone time in El Salvador is different. There is no ice cream, my pillow is stiff as bricks, and cheesy entertainment is hard to come by. Even if you close your door there's always a kid screaming or bass speakers thudthudthuding next door as a reminder that other people are being social so why aren't you? You can't relax, all your nerves stay bundled in a knot. It sucks. It's the kind of alone time that makes you feel lonely. And feeling lonely in the Peace Corps is bad news. 

I was feeling lonely when I tried writing in my blog/journal. I guess I've been overwhelmed by the responsibility of keeping it updated. I get cranky if I haven't written for a while, but I'm cranky because I feel guilty for neglecting my lifeline to my friends and family. 

And what a lifeline it is. I called my girlfriends last night. They were together sharing stories and gossip and most likely a glass of wine. I wanted to be there and not sitting in the street craning my neck to catch the cellphone signal. What's going on with me? Oh, you mean besides what's on my blog? 

Nothing and everything. I can't fit every moment on here like how the puppy followed me into the latrine or it took me 11 hours to get to the gyno and back. But I do cover the important stuff, and that makes catching up go faster.

(Yeah guys, I'm aware I still talked the whole time. Boo!)

Tonight I called my parents because it had been a while. I gave them some updates, talked about what I ate for dinner and how I'm going to set up a PO box in my new town. Ya know, the normal stuff you talk about with your parents when you live in another country. 

I know my dad shares the more appropriate stories and pictures with his students back home. If they want to get on his good side they have to ask him how I'm doing. I think it's great, and I hear the kids get a kick out of my malteada video. 

The other day my dad visited my fourth grade teacher's classroom to give a talk about acceptance and shared some of my blog photos as examples of accepting other cultures. I doubt Miss Sipolt (who has since married but I'll always remember her as she was in 2000) ever thought that little Alex with her page boy haircut and choker necklaces would grow up to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. It was a nice experience for the kids because 13 years ago I was in Miss Sipolt's fourth grade class just like them and now here I am saving the world! I mean, working to improve small business management practices. 

This was just the kind of story I needed to hear to get out of the alone time slump. I'm glad I can use this blog as a tool to reconnect with Miss Sipolt, and my friends, and my grandma who checks everyday because I made it her only bookmark. My mom made me promise again to keep writing, even if I have to travel to get Internet. 

Alright mom, you win. Where there's Internet, there will be blog posts. 

Blogging is hard

Recently I've been conflicted over the purpose of this blog. I honestly don't know what I'm doing here. I just wanted to write some stories so that my mom knew I was ok. Sometimes they're funny, and sometimes they're not. Maybe one day I'll get the comedic timing down.  

Even as I'm tapping this out on my iPad, I'm annoyed. There's so many sites and smells and feelings I want to remember and share about my service and I know, I just know, that I'll never capture them all on this screen. It's a crushing thought. I wonder if it'd be better for me to stop categorizing the blog-worthy from the daily experience and just focus on my actual work as a volunteer. 

But I want a record of my time here, so I find that I need to write. I think to myself, "Geez, Alex. Maybe you should get a real-life journal and spill your guts there." However, the thought of using a pen makes my hand cramp up. It's not like we're living in the Dark Ages, right? I mean, the 1960's were soooo long ago. 

Probably my bigger problem is that I've reached the point in my service where I'm completely apt to conducting internal dialogues and it's only week ten. 

A few times I've used this blog to vent, and admittedly that was pretty stupid. After all, it is the Internet. Anyone could be reading this right now amidst the glare of their MacBook, sipping the last drops of overpriced latte from a cardboard cup they're inevitably going to throw away, thinking to themselves "Geez, this girl needs to get a grip. It's not like she has to live there forever." 

To them I'd like to say that's right, this is a short span of life to spend living in a developing country. But it's absolutely worthwhile to recognize my feelings, needs and wish-lists. 

(And who am I kidding? My blog isn't showing up in anyone's Internet results. Great internal dialogue though, you're a pro.)

I've hurt people when I've treated this blog as a personal journal, even if they don't know it yet. I've laughed at the expense of my host culture, and that's not funny at all. I feel horrible about it now. I want to erase the damning posts and continue on as if I never experienced these moments of cultural superiority. But to do that would be a lie and I swore to only tell the truth about my service. It's hard to share your life so openly because you can't take back your mistakes. 

So what do I do now? Over share, under share, stop writing all together? In a few days I might not have a choice either way. I'm not sure what Internet connection will be like in my new home, but I'm sure I'll go to great lengths to get my bandwidth fix. If anything, writing for this blog gives me something to do on rainy Sunday afternoons and I'm ok with that.

Puppy!

Dog care is very easy in El Salvador. The dogs sleep outside and eat leftover tortillas. Boom, mascota! So it wasn't a big deal when my host sister brought home a brand new puppy. Everyone, meet Tigra!

Tigra, named for the stripes on her face

She's so cute! 

Sleepy puppy. Not sure why she's sleepy though. Part of her diet is bread mush in coffee...

Andres, Kai's host brother, came over to meet Tigra

Poor Taz is getting so jealous!

In other news, these chickens were just baby chicks when I got here and now they're scrappy teenagers

Help

"The only hand that will help you is the one at the end of your arm." -Wise words of wisdom from Irma 

Suchitoto

This weekend we went to Suchitoto, a touristy place with waterfalls and good coffee. We met up with US Embassy families and that was interesting. I tried talking to one but they said their job was classified. Some of the younger kids looked like they were having a great time in their adopted country, but the teenagers looked rough. I don't blame them, this culture is hard to adjust to when you'd rather wear booty shorts and listen to Justin Bieber. Overall the day went great. It was nice to get out of our training community for a while. 

Waterfall we climbed around. 

Embassy people, so mysterious. 

The gang.

My new passion is climbing. I was like a little monkey.

Maria and some menfolk. Hey, Jaime! The guy in the purple shirt grew up in Mundelien, IL and now he works for USAID.

Then I got competitive because Kai went in the water, and I want to live life on the edge too. He's like the big brother I never had to one-up with. 

Then Kai said there were snakes and I freaked out.

It was really deep! 

It felt great!

Fun!

Wah!