Peace Corps is not for hippies

I used to get really annoyed when people called me a hippie for wanting to join the Peace Corps. Yeah right. Like a real hippie could stay in one place for two full years and complete monitoring and evaluation reports. It just goes to show how little people actually know about the Peace Corps.

I now live with more rules, regulations, policies, and expectations than ever before. 

The tail end of February wasn't the best. I slid into a slump in the post-fair emptiness that was my schedule. I spared you all the sad blog posts, because I've written sad blog posts before and people don't really get it. It's hard to make sense of crushing loneliness in so many words, and make it entertaining to boot.

Valentine's Day, a day I don't normally care for in the US, just seemed to amplify my loneliness. Buying tons of internet saldo didn't help the situation either as everyone was too busy with their loved ones to Skype.

Then I found out that the mayor running for reelection in my pueblo used a photo of me and two other PCVs in his campaign propaganda without my permission.  I have no idea how he got the photo, but I was pretty damn pissed off. Obviously, it's a big fat NO for a volunteer to support a political party. It diminishes my credibility and violates the relationship with Peace Corps. And to add insult to injury he calls us "tourists."

So many things wrong with this.

I know this particular man isn't above staging photo ops, but I felt like this warranted some kind of retribution. I wish my supervisors could have called him to explain that this isn't ok. Send an email? A text? Common! Nothing ended up happening and I'm left denying rumors that I voted for the mayor (or that I'm swaying the vote somehow). Fortunately all that died down when he didn't win. Guess the gringos didn't do you any favors, bub.

Adding to the general crappiness of the month, my host mom's mom is sick. I really like this lady and I feel terrible that she's in pain. I went to visit her with my host mom who, despite having nine other brothers and sisters, is the only one to care for her. I figured it'd be nice to brighten her day, but I couldn't do anything to make her feel better and her groans of pain were almost too much to bare. It felt eerily familiar to watch a daughter care for her sick parent, and I had to get out of there. I stayed the appropriate three hours then caught the first bus heading back to site.

Throughout this slump I had something I was looking forward to, keeping me going during the "total lack of control" days. Kai, my trainee friend from San Antonio, was making it back to El Salvador! It was just me, Maria and Kai back when we first got here and we quickly came to rely on each other. I was so excited to see him in person because social media and Skype could never capture his personality. A bunch of us made plans to avoid the elections (which I was especially trying to do since my house served as headquarters for the local FLMN chapter and, well, Touristgate...) and spend standfast weekend at the beach with our friend Kai.

Standfast, like I explained last year, basically means you can't travel or leave where you're at typically due to elections or earthquakes. So that could mean 3 days in site or... 3 days at the beach? They've been drilling it into our heads for the better part of a year that it's better to text Whereabouts whenever you're out of site than to be scared about taking too many nights out of site (we get 3 nights off a month). I think it makes sense. Better safe than screwed. I and the other PCVs took this "text whereabouts" campaign verbatim and planned to bunker down at the beach, follow the transportation policy by taking the PC micro, and allow one more night at the beach to avoid travel over the standfast.

Then all hell broke loose and we were politely informed by senior staff that if we were to carry out this trip we would be administratively separated. Read: kicked out. Over one more night at the beach.

Now I should probably get this out there to avoid confusion: I understand why we have safety and security policies, I abide by them, and I generally approve of their existence. I don't feel angry with PCES staff (anymore) and I can see why they felt the need to come down hard on this policy. (In fact, this post describes how much I like staff members and our 3 night policy. This is my attempt at being neutral on this.)

But why was the policy enforced this time? I thought our texts to Whereabouts were more or less private? Why did senior staff have to vote whether or not to even enforce this policy? Why aren't our policies uniformly enforced?! Is it really a policy to administratively separate a PCV who spends one more night out of site a month? What happened to all that bonding that took place at the Staff/PCV retreat? Aren't these kinds of oversights and mixed messages the reason we needed a retreat to begin with?!

As you can see, I have a lot of questions and I don't think they'll be answered. This bothers me. Even though the average blog reader might not care about policy distinction, it feels very important to me. I've been in El Salvador for 586 days and I've followed the rules and tried my damnedest to live up to the core expectations. It's a shame that this weekend, which I so sorely needed, was taken from me last minute. It's a bigger shame that I don't feel like I can trust staff.

So with all my newfound alone time I wrote this blog post. Why, though? The fight was beaten out of me, literally, years ago. I know PC is a huge government agency just like any other, and like any other they're bogged down by policies and regulations which sometimes are executed and sometimes lost in translation. Being a PCV puts you at the bottom of the agency totem pole, and you just gotta deal with it. There's no point in fighting. You're not going to "win."

Remember when I told you to take the application power into your hands and ask about the prospective PC country's safety and security policies, program indicators, transportation policy, etc? It's because these things will heavily influence your life for two years. Like... when you want to see your friend at the beach but you can't. If you value independence, do you think you could live with the housing policy or implement the program goals? Do you? DO YOU!?

I guess I just want to tell my story. I want to cite true examples from my PC experience and share them with the world. In my way, I'm trying to correct the ridiculous notion that Peace Corps is for hippies.

Because what hippie would really put up with all of this?

The U S of A

Did I really go to the US? It doesn't feel like it. I spent my first US vacation with two days traveling through airports and three nights in different hotels over the course of four days. It went by really fast.

I had a very good time shopping for things I need, eating out with my family, sitting in a hot tub (hello hot water!), and just enjoying America's luxury.

Here's some general observations I have about going to America after living 9 months in the campo:

1. America is rich. Excessively so. The first night we stayed at this beautiful resort in San Antonio. It was huge, there were fireplaces and big leather couches and a Starbucks stand. The grounds were so pretty- I forgot what landscaping looked like. But of course, someone has to clean the place and rake the leaves and wash the towels from the Texas shaped heated pool. Who do you think does that kind of work? The luxury of our country is built on the work that we don't see, from construction to food service. I felt incredibly aware of the "fancy" things like window panes and carpet, water you can drink straight outta the faucet. I was overwhelmed and annoyed because I'll never, ever be able to express just how comfortable America is compared with a developing nation. (Especially a developing nation that is constantly losing its population to service the American lifestyle. Salvadorans are on their way to being the third largest Latino group in the US. I swear I heard the powerwash guy say puchica.) 
2. Americans eat so much. We went to a delicious TexMex restaurant in downtown San Antonio. All the portions were huge! Two servings of fajitas could feed my whole host family. I ate more meat in that restaurant that I normally do in a month, and it was decadent. The margarita was good too. 
3. On that note- if you're ever in Texas make sure to stop at Buc-ee's. Ridiculous.
4. Even though Hispanics make up 38% of the population of Texas, I never spoke Spanish or saw many tienda signs. I was let down. Maybe they keep that out of the touristy places or maybe Spanish has truly become my second language and I didn't notice the difference. Either way, I was hoping I'd be able to show my parents how I can roll my rrrrrrr's. 
5. I got off the plane and went through a fancy customs kiosk. It was cool! But it stunned me, literally stunned me, how professional the airport security was. They called me "mam" and said "please move this way". A police officer smiled and said "have a nice day". Professionalism is something we DEFINITELY take for granted in America. It's expected that you will be treated with respect and courtesy when you enter a service situation where money changes hands, like a restaurant or a salon. Just browse Yelp! if you want to learn more about America's entitlement complex with professionalism. Half the reviews are people complaining about the "service." Too slow, waiter didn't give me extra cheese, blablabla. This is just laughable when you live in a country where a high school education distinguishes you. Where a "good job" is line cook in a fried chicken joint. Professionalism? People are late, answer their phones in meetings, sometimes even drink beer during training. Professionalism is not a value in this culture. Maybe because El Salvador doesn't have as strong a service sector they don't demand professionalism of others or themselves (Obviously, this applies to the campo. I'm sure people who can afford to go to a salon in the capital expect better treatment.) 
6. Also when I was in the airport I saw a man in a suit for the first time in months. He was like an alien creature to me. A clean pair of jeans is professional here. I mean, really though, most men work in the fields so it's not unreasonable to uphold this standard. But I guess I forgot that there are men and women who lead companies and work in big offices, and coincidentally, dress in nice clothes. 
7. I love diversity. It was so reassuring to see different races and nationalities in the same place at the same time. There was a certain time in history where being mestizo was illegal in El Salvador, so they stamped out any diversity that could have prospered here early on. Everyone is just.... Salvadoran. There's very little variation in that. I've never lived anywhere so homogeneous before PC, and it was nice to be back in America where differences are celebrated. 
8. I brought back a ridiculous amount of toys for the kids thanks to my friends and family back home. I had a fun time giving them out. Sidewalk chalk is a huge hit. I like seeing the kids happy, but it's kinda funny. Aysel's mom guards the crayons I gave her so they don't get broken, but the boys have already destroyed the lego set. It's a perfect example of the culture here- you either squander everything you got (like remezas) or you pinch and scrimp and hope you'll have enough to last til tomorrow. 
9. Honestly, it felt good to be back in my site. Everything is familiar here, I know people and they know me. I'm comfortable here, I can relax. Even the overcrowded buses and cicadas were welcome sights to behold. Being a tourist in San Antonio was not a very fulfilling experience. Next time I go to the US, I'm going HOME. 

***I forgot to mention that the Riverwalk is beautiful, I loved the architecture. Go on the boat tour because it's owned by the local government in San Antonio. Also, thank you very much to my parents for paying for my plane ticket and bringing me on spring break. Thank you to grandma for brownies and toys, grandma for my daily rooster defeating earplugs, Christi for all important t-shirts and toys, Jackie for life sustaining coffee, Deeds for dinero, Kelly and Don for scrunchies and yoga shorts and everything else. I loved everything and I'm so fortunate to have you wonderful people in my life! 

Los Juegos del Hambre

I was so surprised to find ridiculous amounts of love waiting for me back in San Antonio. My host family really missed me for the 7 weeks I had been in site. They even made me a sign!

That's right, I'm a VOLUNTARIA now!

And of course we have another puppy. Where do they get these flea ridden creatures!? Panda’s cute though.

So tiny! 

I was happy to see Christmas paraphernalia as well. Most of my community in Morazan is Evangelica and do not celebrate Christmas… which is the day their main man Jesus was born, but I digress. Christmas is too much fun, so they put the kibosh on it. Ain’t no thang to my Catholic host family in SanAn, which was a comforting relief.

Oooooo, festive. 

The first week of PST2 was for Spanish classes. I’m amazed at how much I’ve improved. I came here with basically no Spanish, but now I can gossip and barter with the rest of them! I swore on the beaches of El Salvador with a wishing rock (it’s a COED 2013 thing) that I’d leave this country fluent in Spanish, and I’m getting closer to that goal with every day here.

I was really caught off guard by how different things are closer to the capital. (Insert Hunger Games reference here). I guess I just settled into campo life and didn’t look back. I forgot that there are other parts of the country where people aren’t super religious or relying on subsistence farming. It was interesting, but exhausting. Don’t get me wrong- In a recent “low” swing I talked about how lonely/frustrating it felt to change my life so I could integrate with my campo community. And now? The capital’s nice, but it’s not my home.

In fact, I more than identify with campo life- I defend it. A few days before I left for PST2 my family and I went to a graduation party for one of my host cousins. Everyone was SO excited I was coming because of Jose. (I honestly forgot his name, but he has a 75% chance of being a Jose). Jose is young, probably 19 or 20, and American. He was born in New York and has lived there with his mom ever since. He came to El Salvador for the first time to visit his dad who was deported when he was a kid.

I could immediately tell this guy was not Salvadoran. Sure, he might have Salvadoran blood but he is not about this life. The kid looked like he raided a Lids store, for God’s sake. He also didn't speak any Spanish. We sat together at the mesa for chicken leg sandwiches (a delicacy) and talked about campo life. I told him that I’m gonna live here for 2 years. No, I don’t mind latrines. Cold showers suck, but its 90 degrees every day. I noticed that he wasn’t eating his chicken leg sandwich- a huge mistake. You always eat what they give you, with a smile.

Jose said I was crazy for willingly living here. He hates El Salvador. He never wants to visit again. He doesn’t care if that means he’ll never see his dad again, because he can’t live without wifi and ESPN. The girls aren’t cute here. Everyone’s so religious. Why are they so poor?

My host sister told my host mom that he doesn't understand any Spanish, don’t even bother talking to him. I felt pretty cool because I’M usually the one Salvadorans say that about! Jose’s unfinished sandwich was just as conspicuous as his English- he ain’t about this life, but I am.

I was thinking about Jose The Jerk a few days later when I was back in San Antonio. I really had to pee in the middle of the night, so I strapped on my headlamp and headed for the latrine. When I got there I knew to look down and check for cockroaches, since they often party there at night. Sho’ nuff, two ugly cockroaches danced around the rim. And you know what? I wasn’t even mad! 5 months ago that would've freaked me out, but now it’s just part of my world to check the latrine. I just know to. And in that moment, I felt immensely proud.

Ain't even mad, brah.

I’m getting better at this. And the better I get at fitting in, the more I appreciate El Salvador and its people. Here’s to the next two years!

Rapid fire succession

Hello devoted followers! I’m back in site after a very crazy, fulfilling, inspiring, exhausting Pre-Service Training-2. I’m sorry I didn’t keep up with my blog during this time, but you might remember where I lived in San Antonio and forgive me. I had a bigger job of fending off las cucarachas than writing blog posts.

Where do I even start?! So much has happened, and so much has changed. Bear with me during the rapid fire succession of posts. I swear it’ll be worth your time.