Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Google Earth




































































So, I've found my home on Google Earth (there's another plug...I've got to start receiving these compensation checks soon!). Those of you that have it, if you want to see what the area looks like, go to: 13°40'41.72"N 89°14'26.52"W

We've got a bush out front and a garden within the walls of the home. Gotta love how all the houses are sharing walls huh? There's a house with a red roof across the street and down one home. Ours has a little shiny box on our roof. I don't know what that is, but I'll go home and look at it.


The pictures are of Sadie Keith and I hanging out at the National Palace.

Xiochilt (pronouned so'chee) who is 8 days old and was abandoned by her mother and brought into a center called CIPI that will take care of her. She weighs less than 5 pounds.

The next is of Carlos who lives at Padre Vito. He doesn't speak, but is very patient as you work with him to understand his sign language. He is having us write a letter to Real Madrid to tell them that they are his favorite team and to ask if he could maybe get a jersey. He's so much fun.

There's a picture of the Cathedral Metropolina from the National Palace.

The last picture is the view of the city from the Mirador at Los Planes.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Just a few photos...







So, things have been wonderful and busy and great and tiring and everything all wrapped up in one. I love it here, but every day is hard at the same time. We started working at a new place. It's a lot like CISNA, the school for boys except it's for girls. They have a bunch of girls that have had kids that are there, and a bunch of abandoned kids. I've fallen in love with the kids in the pre-school. BUT, I'm making a call to arms. Anyone that can think of ANY activity for 12 pre-schoolers that are OUT OF CONTROL, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send them my way. Coloring books will only keep them occupied for so long.
So...we have the group at the falls of Juayua, then there's me and Daniel, the little boy whose family we helped build on their house with Habitat...and then there are my little adorable deamons who crave love and attention...and ACTIVITIES!! I'll send more later! Love you all!

Thursday, May 17, 2007

New Journal entries

**Finding Peace

So, thankfully, so far there hasn’t been too much need for peace…well, there hasn’t been too much chaos I guess I should say since there’s always need for peace. I find though, that as I go through the day and encounter people from all walks of life that the issue that I have the hardest time with is the unequal distribution of money. And I know I’m included in this unequal distribution…and it’s to my favor…but I see old women that are still out on the streets working because they don’t have social security and don’t have an option for retirement. I see people that have amputated limbs that are begging because that is the only way they are able to eat. I know a girl who lives at a home for mentally handicapped people only because she is in a wheelchair and that is the only other option for someone with physical limitations. I see the little boys running around, begging for food or for money…and I think “how can it be that there are people that have so much and people that have so little.” I know a lot of my capitalistic friends feel that it makes for a good system and everything, but personally I don’t like it. I struggle each day with finding a balance between “giving” and “keeping”…I keep thinking that I should do more, I should give more, I can give more. People that have so much less are sharing with me and being so generous…I need to do more. Each day I am frustrated with the dichotomy between self-preservation and making sure I have “enough” to eat dinner each night and the idea of giving to people that I KNOW have MUCH LESS than I do…who are more worried about IF they’re going to eat that night. It’s a hard balance to find…I’m not really sure how to do it well…and to do it so I’m acknowledging the fact that I have been given and have been blessed with so much. It’s hard to do…It’s hard to find the balance…it’s even harder to find the people that you will help and then there will always be people that you can’t help because of limited resources. Do I give a little bit each day to the woman that sits on the steps for the overpass of the freeway? How about to that little boy that I walk by every few days. Do I support the people that are on the buses selling the cheap pens or postcards that I don’t need but are actively pursuing options…or do I go to the mother with the young kids that sits outside of the mall?...or do I just give less to all of them? It’s hard to buy a bag of fried platanos for $.25 and then walk past someone begging for something to eat. I’m not sure how I can find a balance. This is the peace I’m looking for right now. To feel that I’m giving enough…

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Well, it’s been a couple of days, but what busy days they’ve been. Gregan and I have had the opportunity to get to know El Salvador a little better. We’ve ridden buses to see where the routes go to (no, there was no luck in finding a book with them all listed). We’ve gotten lost a few times and have had to take a few extra buses…and a couple of times, taxis.

Saturday May 5th, 2007

We received our first wave of volunteers last Saturday. Gregan and I were doing a last ditch effort to get to know more of the bus routes so he would feel comfortable with the general layout of the city. Well, we headed out to Ciudad Delgado and Habitat Confien and I showed him the general area. We then went ahead and started back home, but rather than be patient and get a bus that went through Metro Centro we just jumped on a bus that went to Centro…no problem though, we know how to get out of the Centro. We rode it for a while and then got off in an area that we knew...after walking for a little while we found a 42 which goes to our house right? Wrong…it was heading in the other direction. Thankfully we had only gone a block and they let us off without having to pay. So, we walked around a little more…trying to find another way to get a bus to take us home. After wandering a little while (something that should NOT be done in the Centro…it’s too dangerous for foreigners to not look like they know where they’re going…which honestly at this point we didn’t) we FINALLY found a 101 that is supposed to take us to La Ceiba…a church that is close to our house. Well…little did we realize that there is a BIG difference between a 101 and a 101 D…and the 101D takes us to our neighborhood…but the 101 doesn’t. All this while, my phone is ringing because President Lopez told me that he would be willing to help us pick up the volunteers at the airport with his minivan…but I didn’t want to tell him that Gregan and I were lost in the Centro…well, that and I didn’t want to whip out a cell phone in the Centro. Not to make everyone nervous about anything, but just so you know, the Centro is not the most secure place on the face of the earth. We have to travel through there to get to a few of our projects but when we do it, we do it with a start and an end goal…there’s no lolly-gaggin (or, as they say in Chile, according to Gregan who served his mission there, “pintando monos”…which is literally “painting monkeys”) or wandering around. We go from one bus stop to the next with our eyes and ears open…this night was not quite the case so I was a little nervous…so I didn’t want to add something like a cell phone on top of the wandering. When we finally did get on a bus the music was so loud that there would be no way that I was going to be able to hear President Lopez talking anyway. Well, so we’re on the 101 and we’re finding that it’s turning off the main road that takes us home…”don’t worry” I tell Gregan “it will come back from behind the mall…remember when we picked it up over there. It will take us to the Ceiba…no problems”…so, we’re behind the mall and I’m getting ready for it to turn towards our house…no such luck. It heads in the opposite direction. Gregan keeps asking if we should get off since we’re getting close to the time when the cab is supposed to be meeting us to go to the airport…and President Lopez is wondering about us. “No…it will be coming back. It’s fine…I promise” Further and further away we’re going until I see a sign that is welcoming us to Colonia Merliot…which is something that I have seen on the map…but on the very edge. I’m starting to realize that I am wrong (yes, everyone can make note of the fact that I’m actually admitting it) but not saying anything to Gregan just yet. Once the bus starts to get away from the main strip where there are lots of busses and taxis, I finally decide to admit it to Gregan. We get off…walk a few blocks…try to wave down a taxi, stress about time, finally get a taxi, call President Lopez who tells me he will wait at our house, and then get a call from the other taxi driver. Gregan starts to apologize about not being at the house just yet, but thankfully he was calling to tell us that he was running just a little behind schedule. We get to the house just as the other taxi driver pulls up. President Lopez is waiting, I jump out and take off with him, Gregan pays for one taxi and then gets in the other and we run to the airport. I have a wonderful ride with President Lopez and thank him so many times for being so generous and, the wonderful man that he is told me that it’s his pleasure to help us and that he knows that he receives blessings for it and he knows that he wants all the blessings that he can get. He’s so wonderful and so helpful.

We get to the airport and I start to realize all of a sudden how nervous I really am. I’m worried about the fact that it’s going to be 10 new girls…I’m worried about them liking the house. I’m worried about traveling around with them; I’m worried about whether they’ll like the experience…I’m worried about being a good leader…I’m worried about being too obsessive and worried (how ironic)…I’m worried about finding the right balance between strict and permissive…of encouraging experiences and allowing people to discover things on their own. I was sitting there thinking about all of this, wondering if I would recognize them, wondering if they would all come out together, wondering if we would forget anyone, wondering if I remember the names of people that I’ve met and how long it will take me to remember the names of the people that I haven’t met yet…how would I get along with the girls…how culture shocked would they be…etc etc etc. Needless to say there was a lot going on in my mind. Gregan was waiting a little further back with the taxi driver and President Lopez was waiting back by his car. I remembered when I first arrived how nervous and overwhelmed I was…so I wanted to make sure that there was a friendly face. The girls walked out of the airport, were met by a wall of humidity and all looked a little overwhelmed, a little travel weary and just a touch unsure of what’s going to happen next. Moving to the cars, I was VERY glad that I had convinced Gregan that we needed President Lopez’s help and car. He has a mini van that is used for transporting goods, so it has a driver’s seat and a passenger seat but nothing in the back. 10 girls bring a LOT of luggage. We got his mini-van full, all the girls in the other van and still had to use a few seats for the rest of the luggage. We got them all to the house, moved them in and conquered my first fear. The house…with it’s makeshift room and dim lighting and pila…and cots for beds and very little closet space and one bathroom for all the girls…it definitely is VERY different from all the homes that the girls come from and even from all the apartments most of the girls have come from. The girls took it all in stride…each choosing a room without argument or complaint. We got their stuff into the house and then went on a shopping trip so we would all have food for Sunday. The looks that we got when 12 gringos walked into the store at such a late hour…that was priceless. There were workers that were hesitantly following us to see if they could help us but not quite sure how they should approach the topic. There were bag boys that were literally hiding around the edges of the aisles, and peaking around every once in a while at the group of gringos. We were the last ones in the store and were very well attended. Home again and to sleep.

Sunday May 6, 2007

The first Sunday in the ward was an interesting one. I was a little nervous (it is a trend for the next few days) because Gregan and I had never ridden the bus route to church. We knew which ones we were supposed to take…but, yeah, I was still nervous. We made it though, and on time. We were greeted by the Bishopric as we came in. Bishop Funes welcomed us at the pulpit, told us that the ward was glad that we were here again (something else that I’ve been worried about because of experiences with past years) and made a comment about “Rachel and her pollitos” or “little chickens” because we all filed in like a hen and her chickens. At times I really feel like that. I’ve been counting since the volunteers got here. How many are getting on the bus, how many are getting off…is everyone there, are we safe, so we have our stuff…etc etc. The ward is so wonderful and helpful. So many people came to us and introduced themselves, gave us phone numbers and told us that if we ever needed anything that they would be happy to help…there are so many helpful people, it’s wonderful. We had people that work at the embassy translate during Sunday School and Relief Society for the less fluent girls. It’s such a wonderful ward and I am so happy to be involved with them again. I’m very grateful for the directors from last year for rebuilding so many of the bridges that had been burned in the past. The church-house is very different from churches in the United States. They are smaller, number one. They have their basketball/soccer courts outside as part of the parking lot. Inside everything is tiled. The chapel is air conditioned, but after being used to no only no air-conditioning, but even more than that, working and running and moving without air conditioning…we walk in and it’s actually quite cold…and no, I’m not the only one that thinks that. The ward is MUCH smaller…along the lines of maybe 100 people on a full day. Our little addition ends up to be quite a big addition in our Barrio Campestre en la Estaca los Heores. It’s a great ward to be a part of though. That afternoon, our girls had their first experience with a Salvadoreno rain storm. It poured and poured and poured. Because of the heat though, it was welcomed. We had a lazy Sunday afternoon of naps and organizing our lives. Gregan and I had an opportunity to work on our communication skills. No, that’s not just a nice way to say “had an argument”…we just really got to talk to each other and work on really understanding where the other person comes from and basically understand their vantage point. I was really grateful for the opportunity because it helped me work on my own communication skills, but it also helped me with knowing and understanding Gregan which will be essential for us to have a positive effect on the team and the team dynamic.

Sitting here, freezing

Yes, you read that correctly. I´m sitting in an internet cafe and freezing. There are very few times in El Salvador that you'll find yourself cold...internet cafe, church, and taking a shower. Yes, I STILL hate the cold showers...
I'm finding that I really didn't explain to a lot of people what I'm doing here. Here's just a brief explanation. I lived here in El Salvador two years ago to work with an organization called HELP International. We work with partner organizations within the third world countries our volunteers are living in (ie El Salvador, Guatemala, Uganda) to fight against the causes of poverty and the effects of poverty. We work in a variety of different areas focusing on teaching English as a second language, business (especially micro-enterprises), square foot gardening, and working in orphanages and schools. I love it here. It's amazing. This year I'm back as a director of a group of volunteers and Gregan is my co-director. We're responsible for setting everything up while in country and making sure it all runs smoothly.
SO that's the gist of what I'm doing here. You can also look at the website for HELP International at www.help-international.org
Things are going really well. They're SUPER busy though...but in a good way. I love being here. I am falling into "bed" exhausted every night and I still hate my alarm in the morning, but I am less hesistant to get out of bed...I feel the work that'm doing is so important and so worthwhile. It's been a great learning experience for me...I've been working on my leadership skills which I feel fairly comfortable with saying needs the work. I really enjoy it though. We've got such an interesting dynamic on our team. Well, we're all girls except my co-country director Gregan...poor guy. BUT, he gets his own room and his own bathroom for the time being. We've been working on getting a schedule nailed down and finalized. We're working with 12 different organizations going from Habitat for Humanity to teaching English in the LDS Business Center to working with handicapped kids to working with boys on the streets and girls in detention centers. We have been working with health departments and with education and business programs. It's amazing. There's a little bit of everything here. Our girls are between the ages of 18 to 22 (then there's me and Gregan, but we don't have to go into ages right?? ;) and they come from all backgrounds. Most of them have not ever traveled out of the US before and those that have, it's usually been for something like a family vacation to the Mexican Riviera...not really the same kind of living conditions that we're living in now. I have posted a picture of my house previously and also a picture of a little boy named Benjamin who I got quite close to when I was here last time. I was so super excited to see him again. He lives in a home for the disabled called Padre Vito Guarato. I'm not sure what handicap he has. He's constrained to a wheel-chair and has very little movement of his arms and none of his legs. He doesn't really talk, but is wonderful at communicating with his arm movements, his eyes, his smiles, and the direction he moves his head. I adore the sweet boy. I was so happy to see him again.
SO, our house has 3 rooms and on makeshift room. We have 3 to 4 girls in each room and not a whole lot of closet space, but it's all right. It's home.
We have set it up so that each girl is responsible for a different project but we all get to try different things and going to different places. One other place that I love is the project I was responsible for before. It's called CISNA. It's a home for boys that have lived on the streets or have been involved in a crime or a gang or drugs or are under state custody. So, it's everything from a prison to a foster home to an orphanage. It's a place where young boys are old in mind and spirit because they have been dealt with so roughly by life. They fight and have quite the pecking order, but all crave love and attention and hugs. I love being there but unfortunately haven't been able to go as often as I like.
Let's think, what else...it's wonderful here. I absolutely love it. I do miss having an internet connection in the home and having to go to a cafe, but asi es la vida no?
I was going to try to upload some pictures of my recent adventure to el Centro, but my camera batteries died, so we'll have to try later. I've also got some stuff that I've written before, so I'll add that too.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Just a little more info

If anyone ever wants to reach me while I'm in El Salvador, my cell phone number is 011 503 7272 2250. You would probably want a calling card because it's really expensive to call from a cell phone. Also, I'm going to post more soon, and you can check out pictures that I'm going to put up on mediamax.com My account is "rachie_lelei" and my password is "el.salvador". You can check things out there! I haven't put anything up JUST yet, but in the next few days.
Talk to you soon!!!

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Just a few photos and the like




























I've gotten to go to CISNA and Padre Vito and Emiliani and there are so many friends that I have gotten to see! I'm so very happy about that!



Rach

The longest one ever...I'm learning to break it down.

I sit here and wonder how I should attempt to make these shorter…I don’t want people to become bored because I “talk” a lot…but at the same time there’s so much to tell! I guess I could break it down into sections…ie: Journal, Culture, Travel, Cucarachas and other living creatures found in the home, embarrassing moments (probably spurred on by communication barriers), illnesses of third world countries (now doesn’t that sound like a fun category???), things that I take for granted when I’m in the US, how I find peace in a world of chaos, and was I crazy to have brought ANY clothing that is white?…things like that. A person can then pick a category that interests them and read that.

Journal
Thursday May 3, 2007:
It’s about 11:30 on Thursday night and I’m sitting and roasting in our new home…I sit with all the lights out so I don’t attract mosquitoes to my room, but even still there is a small bug walking in circles on the computer screen. It’s been a long journey to this point, but it has been a good one. When we first got to El Salvador, President Lopez and his wife told us that there was a house in their neighborhood that was available for rent. Hermana Lopez called the owner and convinced him to allow us to have it for only 4 months (most people want to rent their houses for at least a year) and for a good price too. President Lopez proudly claimed that his wife was a real sales woman. He said that she could convince you needed to buy your own bread again and pay HER for it too. Her approach is definitely a sweet, honey approach. No-one doesn’t like Hermana Lopez. She’s amazing and kind and fun. She is a pleasure to spend time with. We waited patiently for the gentleman to come to show us the house and when he didn’t come for a while we decided to stop by the bank that is just down the street. The Lopez family lives literally 2 blocks from the US Embassy and while we were walking towards the bank we couldn’t help but notice the parade of people with flags, red shirts, hats, bandanas, loud speakers etc marching towards the embassy. Before anyone gets nervous, don’t worry, it was peaceful. A large group of people were just marching to the US Embassy the day before Labor Day to protest the United States offering so few visas to the people of El Salvador. As all the people in red were marching past, I looked down and noticed that I happened to be wearing a red shirt that day too. SO, I guess on Monday I was for the FMLN cause. The first bank’s ATM didn’t work (in the US, that would be something that could possibly make a person mad, at the very least annoyed…in El Salvador you smile and nod to the guard that told you and walk another block down and go to another bank. With so many moving around on foot, they have businesses separated by mere blocks. Back to the neighborhood to find out that the gentleman had been waiting for us and we had actually walked past him on our way out of the neighborhood…oops :-S He showed us the house and it was nice. The rooms were clean, the garden was well maintained, it even had a pomegranate tree in the yard which would be a fun treat. We told him that we liked the house, but that it was a little small. We then set out to start looking. This begun 2 days of walking. And I’m serious, we were walking straight from 10 in the morning until 7 at night. I know so much more of the neighborhoods and the lay-out of the city. It’s amazing how you can find where things are just by walking…it was literally “Hey, I didn’t know that this Colonia was right next to that other one” or “Wow, there’s the Anthropological museum…I had always wondered”. I also found myself remembering when I first went to a place and how strange and foreign it felt and how familiar it felt to me now, “Oh, I remember when we came here for…” We looked for houses in all of the nicest neighborhoods…San Benito, Colonia Escalon, San Francisco, Santa Elena, Antiguo Cuscatlan. We walked up hills and down hills…back and forth across streets. We saw houses for rent that we wouldn’t want to touch with a 10 foot pole, we saw houses for rent that were BEAUTIFUL inside and out…and ended up being $2800 per month…just a TOUCH out of the budget. We found dead ends and mango trees that were public domain (yum!). We got sun-burned and scolded at dinner for having skin that was too sensitive, too gringo and not wearing “bloqeador” (10 points for anyone who knows what that means ;-) We happened across another protest march on the 1st of May…international Labor Day. They were protesting the fact that they were paying social security and not receiving anything for it, they protested the idea of the privatization of medicine, of the working conditions, of the country’s dependence on the US, they supported Panamanian workers we were on strike or something like that. The microphones were blaring, the people yelling and cheering…carrying flags and banners and handouts for their appropriate cause. People joining in the march as they found a cause they supported. Police walking along side to make sure that the protest remained peaceful. There were vendors walking up and down selling ice cream and minutas (snow cones) and water to the protestors. A few pictures and a couple of flags and handouts later Gregan and I were back on our way. We were walking up the street and little boy saw some gringos and knew that he was going to get his next meal. His feet were black, his pants too small, his shirt too big, his hair in disarray, his face grimy, his hands worse. He came straight over to us and asked for “una qwuata…gringa, una qwuata”. After knowing too many of the CISNA boys and the availability of drugs I preferred to give him food instead of money. (for those of you who don’t know, CISNA is a government run home/school for boys that are either street kids, abandoned by their family or run aways, kids that are addicted to drugs, victims of child prostitution, in trouble with the law for a relatively minor crime, or under protection by the government because of previous gang involvement. I had the opportunity to work with those boys in 2005 and the new volunteers and I have the opportunity to work with them again.) Usually there are women making pupusas all along all of the streets. A full meal for 25 cents is something that I could spare. My smart little friend insisted that everyone is going to be marching and there are no pupusarias open right now, but followed me faithfully until I decided that I was ready to believe him. We talked about CISNA (he had never heard of it) and about his family (he doesn’t remember them too much). After crossing a street and watching him curl his toes up because the road was too hot, I decided he was right and there weren’t any available pupusarias. I gave him a little money that could buy some food, but not much more and hoped that he would really use it to eat as he ran away.
MANY miles and a few blisters later (and yet blisters seem so minimal now, don’t they) we went back to Antiguo Cuscatlan. One of the members of the ward knew of another member of the ward that had a house right next door that they weren’t doing anything with. Hermana Lopez, bless her heart, made a few phone calls and…lo and behold, not only did we want to buy our own bread again but we found that we had a house for a fraction of the price that it’s worth! The extras that it comes with are a stove, a kitchen sink, a dinner table and chairs, a bed, a refrigerator, AND…drum roll please…a washing machine!!! One of the things I miss most about my life in the US is a lovely washing machine that gets clothes clean…and even works when I’m not there!! I was the happiest person alive. Gregan was ecstatic that the refrigerator worked and had a full size, functioning freezer. I found a fellow ice chewer who was excited that he wasn’t going to have to give up his habit for the summer.
Our new address is:
Colonia La Sultana
Avenida Los Laureles #12-A
Antiguo Cuscatlan
La Libertad, El Salvador.

We started moving our stuff into the house that night. We stopped by Emiliani (a home for boys that are either orphans or under the charity of the church because of an “at risk” family situation such as only one parent, one parent involved in crime, or living in an especially hard area.) The boys are sweet, well-behaved and disciplined (might there be a correlation between these traits? Possibly) and their living situation is a little more permanent (they are able to stay there until they graduate from high school) and I had the VERY HAPPY occasion to see some of my good friends again. The boys are all two years older and bigger, but when I walked around the corner their faces were familiar to me, and I know, by the number of hugs and boys holding my hands, and calls of “Raquel” and “tsssst” that I was familiar to them as well. They asked me how I’ve been, how my family is, how long I’m going to be here, when the rest of the volunteers are going to come. They showed me their English homework, the mouse they caught earlier that day, their new soccer ball, their new scrapes…they offered to help carry the items that we had in storage there to the waiting car…they asked repeatedly when we were coming back and where we were going to live (the volunteers last year lived within walking distance which meant activities could last beyond the time the busses stopped running…and happily our new house is 5 houses CLOSER to the school so we can spend plenty of time with our dear friends). We spoke of things that the school needed and of how our volunteers could help. The room where they cook their meals has a damaged roof and each time it rains (which it does OFTEN here) it either drips on the food or the fires and makes the cooking extremely difficult if not impossible. We also noticed that the fires were free standing and consequently the smoke was being breathed in by the women that were cooking. A new chimney would probably be in order to go along with a new roof.
Once back into the house Gregan and I started to clean…and clean…and clean…and clean. Seriously, anyone that leaves a house and leaves it dirty should be hung in a dungeon by their fingernails! It is NOT acceptable! Cleaning up dirt is not that much fun…cleaning up unknown dirt from who knows how long ago is even less fun. I had the HAPPY experience of finding a dead cucaracha in the room that I had already determined to be a good room to live in…And you know what they say about a dead cucaracha. Gregan spent the next hour trying to convince me that there aren’t any more in the house and that we would be fine…I was starting to feel relaxed when I heard “whoa” and some quick movement from the other side of the house. Gregan had found another :-S and he was bigger and ALIVE! Anyone that knows me knows that this is close to the worst news that could be received. The WORST news that we received came a moment later. I had already started to put the washing machine to good use, cleaning old sheets and rags so they would be available for when the volunteers came. Then I found out…the washing machine was not, what we would call, working. Dun-dun dun. It would fill of water and would drain the water but there was no spinnage going on. SADDEST! Sounds like it might need a new transmission huh mom? So, I guess it’s a summer of hand washed clothing again…and looking out for cucarachas. I happily gloated to Gregan that I had insisted on these little pez looking things that they sold in the store that were non-toxic but kept the cucarachas away. They are now all over my room, my bathroom, the kitchen…and yes, I granted a few to Gregan. So, now, the laundry is done (by hand), the rooms are cleaned and sterilized (gotta love Lysol spray…do you think I could get an endorsement for that?) and the one other living cockroach that was encountered had its head ceremoniously chopped off by Gregan with a machete we found in the garage. Ah…El Salvador. No shortage of exciting times. We took the opportunity to go and visit a few of the partner organizations. We went out to CISNA and there are many new boys, but the receptionist, the art teacher, and a few of the boys gave surprised looks of “I know you” and “what are you doing here?” and lots of hugs. We went to the LDS Employment Center and Brother Hernandez’s jaw dropped as I walked through the door and gave me a hug and welcomed me back warmly. It’s been fun walking into the places that I have been away from for so long. It’s been fun seeing old friends and getting the ‘great abrazos’ that they share with me.
Oh, while Gregan and I were looking for houses, we would find busses to travel to another area or to get home at night. When we were told to get directions from more than one person, it was very sage advice. Gregan has had the opportunity to see MANY parts of the city that we haven’t been targeting just because of wrong busses. One night we were trying to get home…we were at one stop that we thought the bus would come to, a kind gentleman informed us that our bus wouldn’t pass by there (which is true) and where we could find our 44 to take us home (which was false). We followed his advice and sure enough, at this new stop, after waiting for only 3 minutes a 44 came by. We jumped on and drove…but away from where we wanted to end up. Well, maybe the bus driver will turn around soon….no luck. Well, maybe we can just go back through the whole route again and get to the house at the “beginning”…no luck. Finally after much time and a lot of confusion we found ourselves in Colonia Trinidad…out in the middle of NO WHERE (after we came home I tried to find where Colonia Trinidad was on our map, I couldn’t even find it there). The bus was on a dirt road…the dogs would wait until the very last minute possible to get out of the little ditches in the middle of the road that they were sleeping in so the bus wouldn’t hit them…finally we noticed we were the only ones on the bus and the driver asked us where we had wanted to go. We told him Santa Elena like it said in the front of his bus and he told us that this isn’t the bus we wanted to take and he’s on his way home and so we needed to get off. Again, remember that this is literally in the middle of nowhere, but it’s not like we could argue. We decided the best thing to do would be to walk back towards civilization. We walked for a while and encountered a few houses…a little further a regular road…a little further a few stores. We were discussing safety, at what point should we probably get a taxi, how exciting that futbol game we just passed looked. We enjoyed the brick streets, the humidity, the trees, the sound of a soap opera coming from a few houses, the sound of reggatone music coming from the stores…people out sitting, smoking, reading, talking or heading to the futbol game. Eventually, we heard some honking. We turned around, expecting a taxi, but no, there was our bus driver telling us that he could take us a little closer to a point where a taxi would pick us up. I thought that was sure nice. We then took a taxi cab home and I STILL don’t know where we were. We came from a complete opposite side of the city from where I thought we were and from where we wanted to go. I’m glad I didn’t bargain more on the taxi ride because of how far we were. We got home, safe and sound and without too much of a hassle.
Gregan and I have a few more days to finish getting things into order before the rest of the volunteers come. I’m excited for there to be more people in the house and more excitement. Gregan has been fun, but the house sure is quiet at night. Each time I hear a car pulling up to the house next door I keep thinking “are we going to have a visitor?” and then I remember, no…most of the people that know we’re here don’t have cars…so I just tend to find something else to clean…pretty pathetic huh?

Culture
It’s always interesting to travel to a new place. The culture is always distinct. The difference even between California and Utah is dramatic… The culture of El Salvador is so difficult to explain. One can obviously see influences of the United States: in the use of the dollar, in the popularity of Tommy Hilfiger clothing, and even in the words they use (to park a car is usually written “parkear”…now if that isn’t Spanglish, I don’t know what is). The people here are so interesting. I know that I get a little bit different treatment being a gringa wandering around the city, but it‘s more than that. Take, for example, the experience we had yesterday at the internet café. We had done our searching and emailing and what-not and when we were leaving we remembered that we had forgotten to look on-line for SOMETHING that might give us a hint as to the bus routes. So, I asked the cashier and he told me he didn’t know and went and found his boss. His boss told us that we might be able to find something in a bookstore or online. I asked for any suggestions of places online that we could look (we had already tried the bookstore approach) with a pen in hand to write them down for the next time I was online. Well, he pulls up an internet page on his own computer and spent seriously the next 20 minutes searching and surfing to try to find something for us. The next man in line over-heard our search and told us that he has a friend that works in the department of transportation that he could ask. He pulls out his phone and starts calling people to get his friends number, the cashier was making suggestions to the boss of where he could look…all to help us not get lost. The friend at the department of transportation said that yes, that is something they usually have but they are out of them at this time. Jose Roberto (the guy at the café helping us) told us that he will keep calling his friend to get one of them for us. He asked for our number and then gave us his so we could “check up” on him. The boss then told us that he couldn’t find anything online but gave us the website, phone number and address for the Tourism department. Talk about going above and beyond the call of service. We then walked a few stores down to eat a much anticipated meal (Pollo Campero…kind of like KFC but even better!) We decided to stay at this fast food restaurant to eat instead of taking it out (para llevar). We were seated but a hostess, another woman brought us sliver ware, napkins and real plates, another asked us what kind of drink we wanted and brought that to us…and this is all a fast food restaurant! When our “waitress” was taking our order she told us all about the different meals and even told us that maybe we should try another item because it’s a better deal. She told us we could choose 2 types of dip for our chicken just to make sure we had something that we really liked and wanted to eat…free of charge! After service like that we felt that we should leave a tip but weren’t sure if that was customary. We asked a couple sitting right next to us and they said “If you want to leave a tip you can, but you don’t have to, and if you don’t want to, then don’t.” Makes sense huh? We decided that we should. We were then walking towards the bus stop to head back home. When we were doing that a car pulled up next to us and it was our new friend Jose Roberto. He was heading in the direction opposite our home and asked us where we were going. We told him “La Ceiba” (a big, beautiful, and well known church that we live only a few blocks from) and he told us to get in and he’ll give us a ride. Don’t worry…all of you that are reading this, this is not something I practice when I’m in the US, let alone El Salvador when I am traveling alone (which I’m not in El Salvador) but since Gregan was with me, we decided it would be fine. We talked with him about how he’s applying to become a pilot for a local airline company (Taca) and how he’s nervous but hopes he got the job (he finds out in 10 days…so feel free to pray that our kind friend gets the job he is hoping for). We talked about El Salvador, why we are here (for those of you that I haven’t explained this to already, I’m working with a non-profit organization called HELP International. We send volunteers to third world countries to fight the causes and effects of poverty, all while offering a life changing experience to the volunteers to encourage them to accept a life of learning and service. I came here in 2005 as a volunteer and fell in love with El Salvador. This year I am back as one of two directors for our group of volunteers), we talked about how Gregan and I learned Spanish. It was a nice ride with good conversation. He dropped us off a few blocks from our home reminding us that he’ll get the bus routes for us and with a honk and a wave was off.
Another cultural thing is vendors come to you. If you’re on a bus, vendors selling anything from chocolates to apples to coconut milk to super glue will come on and tell you all about how incredible their product is. Some will tell of their life of crime and of being lost before they found religion and “Gracias a Dios” their lives are improved and they have given up their past of sinning and would you please support them in their quest for a new life. They also come to the neighborhoods. Drinkable water comes in these 5 gallon jugs…and remember, while grocery stores are close, 5 gallons gets heavy really quickly when you’re walking…up hill…both ways ;) So, there’s a water truck…they come and trade you your empty “bombas” for new ones full of water for only a few dollars. Women selling fruit and bread, men telling you that they can repair your shoes…all walking up and down the streets yelling out the wares they have available. You just have to go to your gate and buy.

Travel
Well, what can I say about travel within the country. It’s insane and I love it. If you didn’t read the journal part, we’ve had quite the experiences with buses and getting lost and found again. There is one bus line that I’ve decided I will NEVER ride again in my life. The 34. Every time we have gotten on it, it doesn’t go to where it’s supposed to go and it will take us to the opposite end of the city and then, instead of continuing it’s route, they’ll say “I’m going to the repair shop, go get that bus” or “I’m not going to go back that way, you need to take a different bus”…SO, buh-bye number 34. Another wonderful thing about the travel here is that the rules are so different. You know those dashed lines that are supposed to separate lanes? Here I think they’re only a suggestion…and a loose suggestion at that. Speed-bumps are no longer a deterrent, rather a challenge to see if you can get more than 3 people to hit their heads on the ceiling as you cross over them.

Embarrassing Moments
I don’t know if this positively falls into this category or not…it could be “culture”, but I definitely get embarrassed by it…I don’t know why, but EVERY time I try to open a door the first time, I always push or pull the wrong way. I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I’ve come to two potential conclusions…#1 They’re opposite the way they are in the US. When we walk into a building in the US I think we always pull the door open and here we push the door open…and so, consequently when we leave a building we push the door open and here we pull it open. I’m not sure that that’s it…I’m going to have to pay more attention to it. #2 There are so many guards here that open doors for customers walking into stores that I’ve just become out of practice…I’ve gotten lazy that when it comes time for me to open a door on my own I’ve forgotten how to do it right ;) Whatever it is, it still doesn’t detract from my embarrassment of continually running into a door when it’s supposed to be opening…or appearing like the Farside cartoon that has a little boy pushing with all his might on a door that says “Pull” across it at “Midvale School for the Gifted”

Living creatures found in the home
Well, lets just attempt to keep a running list. Cucarachas is #1…but I find that even they aren’t as scary any more…I still don’t like them just because their dirty. I know they’re dirty and that means they bring dirt in with them… Animals #2 mosquitoes…and, knock on wood they haven’t been bothering me too much. I guess I have bitter blood. We have had June bugs and spiders and ants of course. We encountered a lizard the other day, a cat running across the roof chasing birds woke us this morning and a little bird has been flying underneath the eaves of the roof and hopping along…technically inside our house, but then he just hops right out.

Illnesses
Well, so far we’ve been mostly ok. Gregan had a “bad stomach” for a few days which possibly came from the coleslaw that he had at a restaurant one day…but a little bit of Coke, a little bit of apple juice and he’s as good as new. The biggest point of this section is a reminder of things that we should make sure to avoid. Coleslaw…check.

Things that I take for granted while in the US.
Well, I’ve got to start with shallow things of course…so as to not be anti-climatic. Number one, my body pillow. It makes sleeping so comfortable. While we’re at it, why not just add the bed in general. I’ve been waking up each morning just a little sore. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been more active and walking around and doing things that I’m not totally used to…or if it’s because I’ve been sleeping in a mat that is about 2 to 3 inches thick on a tile floor…or, maybe a little from column A…a little bit from column B…and voila! Sore! While I’m trying to keep up on my laundry, I have to admit waking up a little early each morning to wash the outfit that I wore the day before…and then hoping I rung it out well enough that it will dry before it sours… After doing laundry then I go and jump into a cold shower. That’s always a little bit of a disappointment each morning. Carpet. No one here has any carpets. There’s something about taking off your shoes and walking on a carpet… Driving myself. When you have to plan different bus routes and different time frames to make sure you get to a place and that you get there on time…I just miss my car. My friends. It’s fun to have a place to hang out and play and things to do. Here, we’ve got friends and they’re fun, but I miss all my other friends and the fact that we can hang out without having specific plans and making sure there’s enough room in cars and all that fun stuff. I miss my family. I miss the fact that I’ve got a new niece and nephew and I can’t see them. I miss Sunday dinners. I miss being able to talk and laugh and hang out with my family. I miss just a general feeling of safety. I mean, it’s not horrible here, but it’s definitely a third world country that definitely has different standards of safety and different issues with gangs. We need to plan to come home from places early enough to make sure to make all the buses before they stop for the night…and to make sure we’re not in certain areas of the city especially when it’s dark…To be traveling around with a bunch of obviously foreign girls is a little unnerving…to be responsible for them makes me extra cautious. General status of life is just so different here. You can just tell that life is hard by looking at the faces of the people. Mothers getting onto buses with their children are always looking around them, always making sure their children are close, always crossing roads quickly and cautiously while dragging the children along. I’ve seen 12 year olds holding their parents hands still. Not because of endearment but because of safety. I miss having some sort of rule and regulation for pedestrians. I’m not a huge fan of the “pedestrians always have the right of way” attitude, but I also am not a fan of “pedestrians never have the right of way because cars and buses and even motorcycles are bigger”.

I'll do more of a break down later...and I realize there are a few categories I haven't touched yet...I'll get to them...I promise ;)