Living with strangers!

When it comes to living with a host family, it’s general PCV consensus that you’re either treated as a member of the family or you’re better off living alone. Most all Peace Corps posts require that you live with a host family during the 3 months of training before you start your service. The benefits are clear: better language and cultural immersion, introduction to local foods, safety, etc. El Salvador extends the host family living requirement throughout PC service, mostly for safety concerns. This can either be a blessing or an, ahem, “learning experience.”

Every host family is different, and there are pros and cons in every living situation. It’s a nasty PCV tendency to compare our host families, but it’s a topic that always comes up. I lived in a beautiful remeza (remittances from the US) house, but my host family situation was less than great. Similarly, there are people living in houses that barely scrape past the PC inspections but have a warm and supportive host family. I can definitely say that the later is much better for mental and emotional health. The house feels more like home when you actually like being in it! Leaky roof and all.

The three host families I’ve lived with in El Salvador are each so unique, but I definitely feel like third time’s the charm. I’ve finally found a family that treats me as family. I’m not the almighty gringa who must be served, nor am I a monthly rent check. I am Ale. Silly, chatty, and a big eater. I like tea in the morning and weak café listo at night. I love the telenovela Mi Corazón Es Tuyo but I don’t like the one about the chocolate factory. I feel free to talk about anything with my new host family. As I say, I have MAD confianza with them. I trust them and they trust I won’t burn their house down.

In June I was experiencing the notorious “Mid-Service Crisis” and my host family was a large part of my freak out. I wanted to move out of my house immediately. Unfortunately, “immediately” turned into “never” when PCES told me that no, I may not live in my own casita. With no other housing options available, I had to suck it up and stay with the family. Technically, there wasn’t a safety or security risk, so my concerns were chalked up to “cultural differences.” It was frustrating, but I eventually resigned to my fate of lonely nights, disgusting household chores, and a pervasive, underlying tension.

When communities are vetted to receive a PCV they must offer up three housing options elected by the counterparts themselves. This might mean they offer up their extended family's house or the nice remeza house, or they offer up a house and host family that seems like a good idea but really isn't. The benefits of living in the community for so long is that now I know who I wouldn’t mind living with and who would make my life a living hell. (I know where the bolos live and who hosts culto every week. No way, José!). Thank goodness my new family had a room become available when the original housing contract was broken last month and I had to move out.

I understand that opening one's home to a stranger, a foreigner no less, can be a daunting thing to ask. In addition to the 2-year time commitment, there are the daily miscommunications, preconceived notions, and the issue of taking "me time" in a country that doesn't value being alone. It could be a tough sell for both PCVs and host families alike. Like I said before, I'm not necessarily mad that I had to move. The host family seemed nice when PC met them, they were kind when I arrived, and the house is amazing compared to the others in the community. I mean, the walls go all the way up to the ceilings! That's a huge deal! PC couldn't have predicted the ridiculous power dynamic that cropped up after a few months, nor could they predict that the family would break the housing contract a year and a half in.

I learned about a new religion and way of life with my old host family, and I'm thankful for the experience. However, I feel so relieved when I come home to my new host family. I feel so comfortable and happy with them, and I never felt anything like this with my last family. It's weird, but every happy moment is tinged with a bit of sadness. A voice in my heads keeps asking, why couldn’t I have lived with this family at the start? Why couldn’t I have moved here sooner? I think that my service would have been better, more "successful" even, if my home life was happier. I would have had the ganas to bounce back faster after a setback and, surely, I would have made more and better contacts in the community.

I know, I know. Live in the present, not the past, bla bla bla. But I can’t help but think about how different my experience would have been if I felt this kind of support earlier. I feel like a year and a half in my site has been wasted battling catty host sisters and constantly feeling uncomfortable at home.

Ob the bright side, I truly think it’s all a “learning experience.” If everything was easy from the start, would it even be Peace Corps?

Back in Action!

When you're living and working in a developing nation, sometimes things work really well and other times they don't work at all. Ex: my internet modem. Luckily I just needed to take it in to the big city to get reset to factory settings, and now I'm back in blogy business! Good thing, too- I think my mother is going to have a conniption if I don't get some updates posted soon.

It's been a little over a month since I posted, and yes, a whole lot has happened. The most important thing that's happened is that I went home.

Let me rephrase that- I went HOME! My short visit to Texas was great, but it wasn't home. I was in the USA a grand total of 6 days, 2 days of traveling and 2 days back in BloNo to walk in my master's graduation. Me and my cousin Christi graduated together for undergrad at ISU, and it was too good an opportunity to celebrate again (even though I have a ways to go on the thesis part). So, thanks to my plane ticket patron, I headed home to experience all my favorite things and spend time with family and friends.

First meal back in the Houston airport. It's like I was transported back to my freshmen 15 days... 

How I know I'm home. 

Obviously, I need to get my Louie's breadsticks fix!

So goooood. 

We had a girls lunch with my cousin and grandma too. I loved it!

I talked to my sister's high school Spanish class about Salvadoran culture and learning Spanish via immersion. They were great and I had a lot of fun! Hey Mr. Corzo's class! 

Why are all my pictures of food? Portillo's hotdog because Chicago. 

My dad's pizza. I craved this all. the. time.

I got my mom a hammock from the hammock guy in my municipality. I think she likes it!

Pizza heaven. 

Me and my dad, the two mastas!

Miss you girls!

Graduation round 2!

My favorite pic of us. 

Our proudest accomplishment? Brewe-has. 

I tried to cram as much family time in as possible when I was home. I got to see my grandma every day to my delight. My goal was to not be too too busy and just enjoy being home. I think I accomplished that!

I also saw my sister play in two lacrosse games. She did great! The first one was on the way home from the airport and I nearly froze to death in 50 degrees. The second one was a balmy 80s. Chicago weather- some things never change! 

On that note, not a whole lot was different. I was really happy about that, too. One of my biggest fears about being in PC is that I'll come home and everyone I know will be different and I won't recognize anything. I feel better after being home, like my batteries are recharged. I'm nearing the 1-year in country mark and getting closer to being home permanently every day.