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!

0 to 60 in under 30 seconds

Is this real life? Wow, things in el campo are verrrry different from San Salvador. We were very fortunate to have a comfortable orientation retreat with wifi and flush toilets. The shower was in the house! That is just not the case in el campo (the rural areas). 

Today I peed in a deep dark hole and attempted a bucket shower, but it was more like an icy curse from hell. My room is attached to the house, between the kitchen and the porch. There's a metal roof which gets pretty loud when it rains. And of course it rains, because its the rainy season. My bed is fine, I have a Peace Corps mandated mosquito net. In all, it's not bad. My host mom is very careful about being sanitary when she makes my food and I always wash my hands with chlorine treated water. 

My family consists of a father, Roberto, a mother, Maria, and three of her children. One daughter is married and lives in the town over, so I only see her and the baby, Byron, before meals. I have a host sister, Mandie, who's in her twenties but I honestly can't tell if its low or high because salvadorans don't age. She goes to college for communications and she's incredibly nice. My host brother, Eric, is 18 and is studying to be an electrician. I told him that when the electricity goes out in America, it's a crisis. Those aren't their given names, but it's the trend here to take on an American nickname. I have no idea how to spell their given names, but they're beautiful. 

There are two other volunteers who were lucky enough to be placed in the rural training center with me. I love them, and they don't even know it. If I didn't have other trainees near me, I'd be a goner. Both of them speak Spanish significantly better than me. I am the misfit who thought "it'll all come back, no prob." No. That's stupid. Learn some freakin Spanish before you leave for peace corps, ok? 

I want to take pictures and videos and document everything, but the humidity is terrible here. Also, I try not to travel with anything that might call attention to me. I will take a video soon and post ASAP. 

It's getting dark now and the roosters are going nuts. The quaint idea of roosters cawcawing to awake up farmers is bs. Roosters caw any damn time they want. Especially the roosters that live 5 feet from my room.... 

I get Internet on Tuesdays and Thursdays when I go into town for medical and security training. My goal is to write when I'm en mi casa, then post it the next time I'm in town. As I write, it's Saturday night. I'll probably get to post this on Monday because we have a special training. We get cell phones finally! 

The culture shock is worst than I thought. It's only the first couple of days, so I need to stay strong. If I still feel like this in 10 weeks, then I'll be screwed. But right now, it's totally normal. 

I love and miss you all. I really do. I wish I could respond to all your Facebook messages and emails, but ya know. Life en el campo. In the coming weeks I may be better at communication, but right now it sucks. 

Its getting dark and I don't want my host mom to turn on the light. Light= bugs as big as your hand. Hasta luego!