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!

Festivus

No matter how much time I spend in this country there are still things I forget. Like the other day I was visiting with a woman in my community and I forgot to ask her to put bien poquito sugar in my lukewarm coffee. I ended up with a cup of joe that could make a horse diabetic. I also always seem to forget that my host dad wraps a huge chain around our front gate every night, so if I try to catch the early bus out of town I have to climb over our 4 ft high barbed wire fence. It's usually a close call if I make the bus on time and with the bottom of my capris intact.

And last week I forgot that the country would effectively shut down to celebrate Fiestas Agostinas, the fiestas patronales de San Salvador. The saint day for a guy named Salvador is kinda a big deal when you live in a country called El Salvador, capital city San Salvador. It's a national, religious, and popular celebration.

I actually went to the overcrowded, soggy national fair last year when I was in training. Me and my San Antonio PCVs went with a host family. I remember feeling like I was going to puke in the crowd, it was way too overwhelming! Maria and Kai rode on a death trap carnie ride then we were treated to pupusas. It started raining on the ride home so we pulled a giant black tarp over our heads in the back of the pick up truck. Intoxicated by the rain and danger of speeding on an open highway in the bed of a rusty truck, we started singing at the top of our lungs. It was one of those simple and wonderfully fun moments I've shared here.

This year I celebrated the fiestas up in Perquin at their take on the holiday, the festival de invierno. I traveled up with a few friends from my community. We ate carnie food and pupusas (duh), enjoyed Andean music which reminded me of Peru, and even stopped by the war museum. I had been putting off going to the museum because, honestly, there's nothing I could learn there that I haven't already heard about from a community member. But my friends insisted it'd be cooler at the museum, so we went. I paid a literal gringo tax (double the price of entry for nationals) and I actually enjoyed seeing some of the propaganda that came from the US.

Eric, in his best skinnies, sitting in a pilot's chair. 

They insisted that I sit there too, and then we got in trouble.... 

At the radio booth. This part was actually pretty cool because I love radio! 

Exit through the gift shop. 

It was a great day! This time next year I'll be saying my goodbyes and eating as much elote loco as I can!

Shout out!

I've talked about the Peace Corps organization and the new application process quite often on my blog. I typically view my employer favorably, I just like to think aloud in my posts! I always thought maybe someone would come across my blog and think it was kinda interesting too.

Well, I was right about one thing- giving applicants a choice in where they serve is leading to some very crafty blog searching. Just last week a potential PCV reached out to me asking about the program in El Salvador. It's one of her options and she wanted to hear more about PCV life in this country.

Oh, how the power went to my head! I could tell her anything, completely uncensored! Who was going to know that it was ME who dashed her hopes and dreams of an ideal PC El Salvador! Mwahaha!

Just kidding. I made a pro/con list, like always. I was fair and balanced, and provided my personal experience and referenced other PCV blogs that demonstrate additional experiences. I also plugged our official Peace Corps El Salvador website, because I wouldn't be a good PR person if I didn't.

How interesting though! This is exactly what I did way back when, and it seems like I've finally come full circle. The great thing is that now I can give advice and suggestions that have some weight with the applicant's decisions.

Maybe you think this blog post is boring, but you're wrong. It's fascinating. It's a whole new world out there! I'm so excited to see what happens with Peace Corps as all these changes roll out.

And I know Angelica is going to be an amazing PCV, where ever she chooses to serve :)

Good eats

We've had a really bad drought here in El Salvador the past month or so. I absolutely rejoiced last month when I though the scattered T-storms we experienced signified the end of summer. Nah nah nah. All moisture quickly dried up right after I clicked "Publish" and we haven't seen a drop since. I swear this blog can be cursed sometimes.

I'm getting pretty angry at the skies because my rain dances (which I resumed last week) haven't paid off. My host mom tells me that I must be patient because God will send rain when he is ready. So.... anytime's good! Send it on down!

What does this mean for your average subsistence farming salvadoran? Hunger and pain. All of the corn has dried up and the beans are long gone. People are talking about dramatically high food prices and I'm sitting over here dripping sweat at 7am again.

Yesterday, August 1st, was a very special day in salvadoran culture. They call it "Dia que mata el hambre" or "Day that kills hunger." Because, IDEALLY, this is when you cut some of your miaz nuevo off the stalks to make tamales, tortas, tortillas, and atol. It's a celebration of a strong start to the growing season. My family, being the "rich" people in town, were able to buy some fresh corn off a man who has his milpa close to the river (better access to water, I suppose). All of our corn is dead.

My host mom made a very thick, rich atol. It's a drink made of baby corn mash, milk straight from the cow, salt, sugar and cinnamon. I drank the whole mug, not because I particularly like consuming liquid fat, but because I respect the hard work that went in to growing the maiz. The tamales were adorably miniature and had whole chunks of corn inside. They think I'm crazy because I like to put honey on my corn tamales. It's good, I swear!

It's going to be a long, hard season and I'm not sure how my community will cope. All we can do is pray and rain dance.

WE'RE HALF WAY THERE!

Happy 1 year to COED '13! I'm so proud of us! I'm really disappointed that I don't have more group pics of us. It's alright though. We have a whole nother year to make memories :)

(Obligatory Bon Jovi)

Aysel, wishing me a happy anniversary of course!

The iPad never lies. My countdown finally hits one year!

Keep on keepin' on!

Chili

Thanks to the wonderful Dr. David Berry, a Peace Corps Response Volunteer who just COSed, I ended up with many chili packets. Thinking it'd be a great Second Goal activity, I decided to make chili for my host family.

Well ya see the thing is... campo chili isn't quite the same as futbol norteamericano chili. First I went to the only grocery store in the department and perused their ground beef selection which comprised of "Special ground beef" and "Extra special ground beef." I asked the woman behind the counter if the extra special would be ok with my débil stomach. She literally laughed out loud. I told her that this is really important because I've already had amoebas and I don't want to get them again. She just smiled and said, "Cook it really well!" Right.

This is extra ridiculous because I grew up eating ground pork burgers my whole life and I didn't even know it until I got to college. Is it a good thing that the meat is red? Is that BLOOD?!

So then I spent the next morning boiling black beans. No matter how hot or how long I boiled these beans they would not cook. My host sister looked in and mumbled something along the lines of using up the gas subsidy for the month. We were not getting a good chili start.

The story wouldn't be complete if I didn't mention that we didn't have water that day, so every time I wanted to wash my ground beef hands or wipe the counter I had to haul in water from the pila. (Just a side note- we're going 3 days without water here and it's vernanito so it's back to 100 degree days. Oi ve.)

One way or another I got some semblance of chili made around lunch time. It was.... alright. I guess. I now understand why we eat chili in the winter. It just didn't taste so good when your sweat is dripping over your lips. I ate a bowl thinking "Oh well, it's not so bad." But just an hour later I was rolling around in the hammock clutching my stomach and cursing the ground beef lady behind the counter.

My host family, demonstrating the gracious yet penosa salvadoran culture, declared the chili a success and seemed to eat their full bowls. I told them the spiel about how I miss seasons, and in Chicago it gets super "chili" har har har. They didn't get it. But later that day when I was writhing in the hammock my host dad brought over a fresh coconut water with chunks of coco floating inside. "Drink this," he said. "It might help with your parasites."

It was touching. My host family is still learning about me, and I'm learning about them. Next time though, I'll avoid extra special meat products.

The finished product. 

My host dad, who actually seemed to like it. 

Belky, Aysel and my host mom. Eh, mas or menos. 

Coloring

I've been spending a lot of time with Aysel in-between writing a grant for the art group and working on my capstone. Have you ever written a grant before? It's rough. I wish it would be enough to just say, Hey! We like art and we would like to buy some paint brushes. Can you give us some money?

But it's not that easy. It's all about indicators and outcomes! I'm glad I'm getting the experience though.

Today we colored and she's so darn cute I had to share the pics:

The artist poses at her easel. 

Her work!

My sister's heading to summer camp tomorrow, so I made this drawing for her. Aysel particularly liked the dog.

Have fun, Tate!