Rereading things

I've been feeling a little guilty about writing the last angry blog post. I honestly set out to write an "update" post just so people would stop asking if I dropped dead, but then when I got on a roll I couldn't stop.

Obviously, I'm over it. Just another ~experience~ brought to you by Peace Corps.

An update on Touristgate: there's really nothing my PM could do. The mayor doesn't identify us as PCVs, nor PC, nor is it an advertisement for prostitutes or drugs. She did try seeing what could be done, but alas, there is nothing to do.

I love that this is just a typical PCV thing, though.

Most of my frustrations with PC rules and policies can usually be cheered up by endless clicking through How a PCV puts it gently. We all gotta deal with some annoying crap, but at least we do it together!

I'm also going to the beach this weekend COME HELL OR HIGH WATER, so that's got me looking up. I still really need this break. It's been over 3 months since I left my site, and the pain is real. I'm honestly just looking forward to getting a decent night of sleep.

My host dad, being the caring and thoughtful person he is, allowed the 7th Day Adventists to host teen culto at our house every night this week. They have a speaker system, keyboard, and Spanish language bible enactment movies. And they really love to sing.

It hasn't been too bad though. Last night me and seven members of my host family crowded within 3 feet of the television so we could watch our novela. We'd try to turn the volume off when there was a break in the preaching, but it just got too ridiculous. What was more ridiculous was when a big norte blew the door open and about 50 community members saw us pagans watching tv! I knew I was finally with the right host family when we just giggled and closed the door again.

Haters gonna hate!

I also found this article on another PCV's blog and it is the best advice article I've ever read for future PCVs. It's just... perfectly summed up. And it even made me think about some things regarding my service and how I sometimes feel so useless, or angry, or like I want to throw my hands up and walk away. It's a must-read for all PCVs no matter how many months in you are. Read it here.

Peace Corps Week II

Happy Peace Corps week! Does it feel like a year? To me if feels equally like a few months and a few decades. A lot has changed between this year's PCW and last year's PCW. I think the biggest difference this year of service has made in my life is a greater sense of self-awareness. I've clearly had a lot of time to think about why I chose to do Peace Corps and all it entails, what it is I'm doing here, and why I feel motivated to keep it up. Processing every experience is helping me become a stronger person. 

I've learned to love people, whom I've only known a short time, unconditionally. 

I don't take much for granted anymore.  

I know my breaking point and how to deal when I've been brought to the edge. 

I have zero tolerance for first world problems. 

I value my independence so much more. I'd say that's the number one thing I'm looking forward to getting back in 6 months. 

And yes, there are have been ups and downs. Actually saying "ups and downs" doesn't even scratch the surface. I'm coming to the realization that I'm going to go home and no one will know what I experienced. I won't have a friend or family member I could turn to and say "Remember eating pupusas at Niña Orbelina's?" or "I'm really missing Otinia today." Blog posts only tell so much, and I think I can see why people say reverse-culture shock is a lot worse. 

I'll need to join a RPCV group real fast. 

Way to go, PCVs, whether you're just starting training or heading into COS. The Peace Corps experience is truly one of a kind.

Aw, shucks

Sorry again for never reading my blog post comments. You're all the best! Special shout out to Shalom Corps, B.D., and of course, Jodi.

Thanks for reading!

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 very last day of my very last fair

I climbed the steep mountain road at 4am on Tuesday with a bit of a bounce in my step because, finally, it was the last day of the fair. I loved the fair! But I'm extremely exhausted. I want to sleep this off for the next month. I went to my last alborada, for maybe forever, with my host cousins and enjoyed the tamales and stars. I opted to not take a picture of myself this time, and snapped one of these kids playing checkers with beer caps instead. How aren't they tired?!

You kids are crazy. 

Because I DON'T have kids and I DON'T work in the milpa, I went back to sleep. People were trying to make me feel bad about my ample time, but puchica to that!

Last night we capped off the fair with the awesome cumbia band La Dinamita Salvadoreña that played in our cancha. I really liked them! They were very energetic and had some slick dance moves. I was feeling proud, content, and peaceful looking around at my community all together enjoying the music. As angry and frustrated as I've been here when things don't work out, I also really appreciate the good things. They seem so much better, too.

My host sis and mom eating elote loco. They're so funny!

Auxi and Karyme, two candidatas. 

Remember Marco!? He sang to the candidatas. 

Manuel and Xiomara, my new host parents. They're great!

Cati! I love her deadpan humor. 

 Finally around 11pm they announced the winner. Here's our new queen!

Bow down.

Exposición

I was very proud to celebrate the hardworking jóvenes that participated in the drawing and painting class on Monday. We started out with over 50 hopefuls, and ended up with a nicely sized group of about 20 dedicated students. Some of the kids came over to the casa comunal at 8am to clean and mop the floors (probably for the first time in years).

I'm embarrassed to admit how ridiculously difficult it was to make those letters. 

Just getting started! 

Here is some of the students' work:

I replicated a photo of my grandma. It's not very good, but I set the sell price at $1,000 for kicks. 

While we had the open house, the carrera de cinta was taking place outside. This made things troublesome when our referigerio arrived and grabby people threw their hands in my face for panes and wanted two more for their friends outside. It kind of defeated the purpose of the exposición de la clase de dibujo y pintura. We're here to celebrate the KIDS! They didn't even look at the paintings. I got fed up with some bolos and told them they had to tell me what their favorite painting was, who painted it, and how much it costs before they could collect. That at least forced them to acknowledge there were paintings in the room.

The open house was worth it though. I'm so, so, so proud of the kid's work! Leo has been a great partner and teacher as well, and I hope he continues with the class.

The longest day EVER

Sunday was our day to host the fair. I know I'm the PCV for all of my canton, but I think it's only natural to favor your neighbors. And I got a lot to like about them- we had the best day of the fair!

We started at 4am with an alborada. The alborada was like last year. We shot cohetes into the air and passed out plates of tamales y pan, with a cup of tepid sugar coffee. I got to see Job, of the Caminemos Con Job campaign. I was glad to see that he's doing much better, though still relying on crutches.

I picked up a plate with a lot of pan. It's Orbe's pan, and it's delicious! 

Auxi, a candidata, looking super cute at 4am. 

Old ladies are my preferred alborada companions. Especially these two!

 When things were starting to settle down, I got a big surprise when the band dedicated a song to me. I didn't know it at the time, but the song they played has words and it goes something along the lines of "I love you, but you just want to be friends." I thought this was awfully ironic coming just 4 hours after I left the discomovil dance floor...

Thanks for the song, bub.

I snatched a few more hours of sleep then started getting ready for the series of activities that were taking place in and around my house, starting with the celebration of seniors! I always love this part of the fair because old people are cute. We had a clown (of course), pupusas, a raffle for gifts (socks and tupperware) and we ended it all with a piñata. Speeches were given. I thanked them for sharing their community with me all this time, and I'll surely cry when I leave in September. A few shook my hand and thanked me back. It was all in all fun.

Glendi and the clown give out a gift.

The seniors pick up dulces as the kids look on from the road. 

Otinia and the clown! She makes friends with everyone. 

Just a few hours of downtime and it was time to shave the pig. I really didn't like the chancho encebado in the pueblo, and I was scared to see how kids would handle it. Luckily, the event went quick and a burly 10 year old carried the chanchito off in the third round.

You poor pig. 

Haven't you seen BABE!?!?!

But wait, there's more! Immediately after the chancho, we had a comelon de pupusas. Five contenders ate 15+ pupusas within 30 minutes. The winner ate 19. Just for reference- three pupusas makes me feel stuffed and I'm the girl who eats entire boxes of Mac'n'Cheese. Because it would be a crime to not, the pupusas were served with ample cortido y salsa de tomate. They were also given Pepsi's to wash it all down.

The crowd that left all their chip bags and soda bottles in my yard. Grrr. 

Eat! Eat! Eat!

"I hate to tell you this, but you're losing."

(....Son of a beech.)

My favorite event was the palo encebado. If you're paying attention, you know that encebado means greased. So yes, we find a very tall tree, sand off the bark, and grease it. The menfolk work in teams to strip off the grease (a universal strategy) and retrieve the $20-$40 nailed to the top of the palo. This would be a great team building exercise! A little messy though.

I could totally Mulan that. 

That top man strips the grease down to the bottom. 

Then they use dirt to add traction. 

They grab anything to climb up. I saw a lot of butt.

It was dark by the time they got the money, so this is the last pic I have that isn't blank. 

I watched the spectacle with my host mom and a gaggle of kids. It always surprises me how much the kids love me here. I love them right back!