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 ;)