I feel the earth move...

Another weekend, another exciting overnight to the town of Suchitoto, located far east of our home base of Santa Tecla. We traveled on the bus for a few hours to reach this remarkable quintessential Central American town. I absolutely fell in love with the charm and simplicity of Suchitoto. From the town square with its historic church and daily artisan market, to the delicious pupusa's and hospitality of the locals, this city looked and felt the part of old world Latin America. However, the scars of war were still so present here. Many buildings still contained the bullet holes from the deadly civil war, which apparently raged hard in the Suchitoto area as the guerrilla's had control of the land. Fortunately the city is now trying to reestablish itself and welcome tourists. Situated next to a beautiful river/lake you can wonder the streets or travel to the nearby waterfalls as we did. Although, they should give better warning about how steep the travel down is! One false step and you're careening 75 feet into rocks!

Of course my favorite part of Suchitoto was their campaign to end violence against women! Yes, a city-wide initiative, driven by the national office for women. As part of this public awareness campaign, each house was asked if they would support the cause and educate others by painting a small graphic on the front wall. You can see this phrase and picture everywhere. It translates to: In this house, we want a life free of violence against women". The bird is meant to signify freedom. Truly amazing.

Additionally, the weather down here has been a bit wild lately as we move into the most intense part of winter. The rain in the afternoons is unlike anything I've ever seen. Torrential is an understatement. And last night when we returned from Suchitoto, I experienced my first earthquake. It was relatively minor, however it shook the house and rattled our room and nerves just a bit. They are incredibly common down here. My parents always joked that crazy weather followed me- I certainly hope that isn't the case here. We have have a volcano about 5kms away...

Bienvenida Latin American Idol

So I have a new television obsession. Those of you who are able to watch "Glee" in the US have nothing on Latin American Idol (Season 4). It is exactly like "American Idol", the music, the wacky auditions, the melodramatic personal stories of the contestants and here is the best part- the judges! I kid you not the each resemble their american counterpart (physically and in personality). We have the well-known Cuban-born Jon Secada (filling in for Randy Jackson), Mimi, of 80's latin girl-band fame (Paula) and finally Oscar Mediavilla, the musician and composer and Simon Cowell of the trio, he is there to keep order to the group. They bicker and battle just like in America. All the contestants must be from Central or South America (including Dominican Republic but excluding Brazil (they have their own version). This week we finished up auditions and how have the top 24, I've already picked my favorites. Most excitingly, there is one girl from El Salvador, we'll be sure to root for her.

Pop goes the personal space bubble

One of the major differences that I have noticed between living in the United States and here in Central America is the need for personal space. While this could be a result of the fact that El Salvador is far more densely populated than much of the US, I think of places like New York City, where people still find ways to create their own little worlds. I think of how we often joke about the bubble of personal space that we use when we are having conversations, working or traveling. Well someone stuck a pin in that here because "personal space" is sort of a non-existent concept.

For example, riding the bus, you need to be prepared to have a lot of contact. I'm not talking about refusing the vendors or making sure you're not being hustled with the fare, but I wonder if the bus drivers here have a secret challenge going on to determine who can fit the greatest amount of people on their bus at one time. I have never in my life been squished up against more people than I have in this last week. Yesterday (I'm not making this up), I actually sat on the dashboard of a bus. By the way if I die in El Salvador its totally going to be in some sort of bus disaster. And the other morning, an old woman nodded off while on our bus ride and at one point slept on my shoulder. This is life here. I can't help but think of all the mornings I drove to work, one person in a car that could hold five others and thought nothing of it. Are we lucky, spoiled or maybe we are missing out...

Granted how crowded places can get are uncomfortable, there is another aspect to this lack of personal space thing. I've barely been at the school two weeks and I've only been to the orphanage once so far, but you'd think I gave birth to these children. The hugs, the desire to sit on my lap or just be physically close to someone is so endearing. In general, people are far more affectionate here, and not just with children. There is no holding back of showing love or friendship through gestures, embraces or personal proximity. Clearly this is cultural. Those of us raised in the Anglosaxon/other European traditions that have dominated US culture have learned to keep our distance, to not always be comfortable with someone touching us, invading our personal/emotional bubble. I of course have never liked that and find that often a hug can be far more powerful than words. There is a warmth to this lack of personal space that I don't find exists in our home culture.

So we have the luxury to spread out at home but maybe we're the ones who have been cramped us, missing out on the joy that comes not from having our space, but by sharing our space.

muchos abrazos y besos

Our House

Here is a video tour of our house here in Santa Tecla. I happened to be home alone for a little this afternoon so it seemed like a good time to make the film. Enjoy!

The Garden of Eden

This morning we had the opportunity to visit the orphanage or "hogar por ninos" (home for children because the nuns do not like the connotation of orphanage, and I agree). Truly, I feel I've walked into a modern day garden of Eden. The place is completely run by Carmelite Sisters who have created a completely self-sufficient universe inside the walls of their compound. What struck me most is the immediate sense of calm that you feel after entering the gates. Surrounded by lush greens and looking out into the mountains, you feel personally at peace and welcomed (or at least I did). On site for the 60 children that currently live there, the nuns have an emergency medical clinic, dental clinic and psychological center. In addition their playground and play rooms are colorful, filled with many of childhood's staples. What is perhaps most impressive about this operation is that they have a fully functioning farm that feeds the children organically. Behind their cottages is a few acres of garden with vegetables like cabbage, zucchini, carrots and tomatoes and fruit like oranges, grapefruit and mango. The make their own juice! In addition they have two pools filled with fish that they collect regularly to serve for dinner. The next project we discovered is heartbreaking, however I do see the need. Last year the nuns informed Joaquin that the children were not getting any protein. He began the rabbit project. In a separate little area of the compound, rabbits reproduce (frequently) and then are in a sense harvested to serve as the meat used for dinner. The nuns and staff have mastered the art of making hamburgers withe the rabbit meat, as well as many other specialties that have helped the kids get a much needed helping of protein. It has been a hugely successful venture. I couldn't' look at those poor rabbits, so adorable hopping around, knowing they would later be dinner. But still its a brilliant idea.

And here's where is gets even better. They regularly take all of the garbage from the compund and make it into compost piles where it decomposes and it later used for soil for the plants. They believe fully in the "cycle of the earth" as she put it.

There is a clear sense of community and family at this place. I simply feel in love. I felt like this was the place I was meant to come and work at. The nuns were wonderful and we had the opportunity to meet one of the sisters who was visiting from the U.S.

So what's the catch...there is always a catch, even in the Garden of Eden right? Unfortunately, we are already stuck in a schedule with the other school. Since my classes are in the afternoons, I (at least for the next few weeks) will not be able to work at the home for children because they attend regular school in the mornings and then return in the afternoons. I am frustrated because I wish I had the option of these projects before we were committed to teaching at the school. It is possible that when some of the other volunteers come to the mainland in a few weeks that we can stitch the schedule. For now, I'm going to see if I can go to the home for children on the weekend. Hopefully we can figure something out, because I feel like this is the place I want to be working, or could really learn a lot. I can't explain it, I just had such a positive and perhaps spiritual experience there.

Incidentally, the nuns had a box of "Mr. Donuts" (the El Salvadorian equivalent to dunkin donuts) on their table...a sign? I think yes.

The wheels on the bus go round and round...along with unsightly amounts of fossil fuels, gang music videos and a reminder to cleanse your colon.

So I’d like to share my thoughts on the buses of El Salvador. I’ve now spent a good amount of time traveling on public transportation here so far and I’m constantly in disbelief of the entire system and the fact that people who commute are still alive.

The buses here are converted American school buses (like the one you took to 2nd grade) and I guess each bus driver gains the rights to his bus because they are all decorated and individualized. Often you’ll find religious paraphernalia or plaques with inspirational statements. I had the fortune of having disco music and a blinking light the other morning and the best (I can’t believe I missed this) Deborah watched a music about drugs and gangs that also had something to do with tigers and Mexico (you’ll have to read her blog for more on that one). Anyway…so this is all going on around you while vendors constantly are getting on and off the bus in attempt to sell you (usually) edible goods. Commonly they sell candy, nuts or fruit, however I’ve recently had a woman wave a stick of meat in front of me to ask if I’d like a snack. I’ve also been reminded to cleanse my colon and repent to save my soul. So here is where the cynical New York part of me comes out- its not just that these vendors (and there are A LOT of them) get on the bus, but their method of enticing you to buy is essentially wave the product/food directly in your face, I mean inches away. Call me snobby, but I actually want to give people money to leave me alone. Now I know I had the luxury of driving my car to work for the last three years, but before that I was a public transportation commuter in both NYC and Philly and I know it isn’t always comfortable or peaceful BUT meat in your face?!?!
The buses also each emit enough toxic fumes that I think we could close that hole in the ozone by taking a few off the streets. It’s really unsettling to see the exhaust that comes from the back of these creatures (and even worse to smell it).
There is both a bus driver and a money taker who comes around while the driver “drives” the bus our destination. I use the term “drive” loosely because I really think its more of an action of erratically jerking a large vehicle around to avoid other equally volatile motorists. This is NOT an exaggeration. I have yet to be in a bus that obeys a traffic signal such as a stop sign. I have no idea how each day hundreds of people (both pedestrians and bus riders) are not maimed on these roads. It’s insane. All of the buses are also manual so shifting gears often is reminiscent of an adolescent learning to drive (that jerking accelerator/breaking motion). Plus you have about 2 seconds to get off at your stop, lest the bus keep going. And believe me it will. So tomorrow on your commute to work, I’d like you to think of Deborah and I, being jerked around, our lives and limbs in danger while street meat is offered to our faces.
Much love from the streets of El Salvador…

War: was is it good for? Absolutely nothing...say it again

September 11th, 2009

Before I continue with my thoughts for the day, I have not written for the past few days not out of lack of interest or time, but rather being violently ill and confined to bed as a result of what we've come to term "a case of the bad tacos". I managed to miss majority of the first week of school and being sick away from home is a rough fate, but I'll reflect on that some other time.

Last night, Joaquin, Deborah and I had a chance to sit at dinner and speak about the civil war that occurred over a decade ago here in El Salvador. His own stories of seeing his cousins dead in the street, or being held at gunpoint by a group of men hoping to steal from him are harrowing and make it difficult to believe anyone here could remain emotionally unscathed. Joaquin then suggested we watch a film called "Voces Inocentes" or "innocent voices" (just in case you couldn't get that one) which is based on the true story of a boy coming of age during the civil war in the late 1980's. While I knew the politics of the civil war that waged here for over 12 years, I think I failed to realize the emotional toll it took on the families and children of El Salvador. The movie itself is exceptionally well done, however it was unsettling watching this story, knowing that this little boy was essentially my age and spent his childhood hiding from bullets and fearing the government would seize him and force him into combat. In perhaps one of the most chilling scenes, the boys in the village are tipped off by a member of the guerrilla resistance that the military will be coming the next day to seize all young men for the army. That morning all the boys climb onto their cardboard roofs, lying flat so as to remain unseen. The soldiers tear through the village and cannot find a single boy to take. The fear, the intensity and the reality that these families and their children lived with was simply something that cannot ever be erased from a person's or country's history.
On this the 8th anniversary of September 11th, I was reflecting about the cost of war on our personal lives. I read an article in Newsweek recently called "the 9/11 generation comes of Age" which followed many of the young adults (mine and Deborah's age) who have grown into adults post 9/11. The article focused on studies that show that our generation is statistically more interested in pursuing careers and projects related to service for others (like peace corps, teaching, doctors etc.)
I very clearly remember that morning 8 years ago today and the fear that came over all of us. I remember the shock and disbelief and sadness of watching my city crumble. And that was one morning. All over the world are stories of 9/11's that last for months or years. These children lived watching their city burn for 12 years and in places like Iraq, Pakistan or Serbia violence is part of daily life and therefore so is fear.
In the movie last night, there is a priest (who bore an uncanny resemblance to Fr. McShane for my Fordham friends) who is trying to keep his congregation calm amidst the chaos erupting in the streets outside his church. He gives a prolific statement in his homily featured in the movie that I think bears repeating today. He states:
"Skeptics will say if there is a God, why does he make war? But God has given us free will as men and also given us the gift of grace. Grace is the small piece of the divine that lies within each and every person in this world. The reason we have war is that each of us fail to see the Grace of God in others anymore".

just something to think about...

There is no dunkin donuts here...adjusting to life in El Salvador

And the journey begins...

So far on this trip we've traveled 6 hours in an airplane, over 10 hours by bus, and 3 hours in row boat and we've only been here for 2 and half days. Now, if that isn't a metaphor for this being a personal "journey", I'm not sure what is.

A couple of things I'll note right off the bat.

1. Its very hot here, uncomfortably hot

2. The myth about everyone carrying a gun is completely false (in fact I've only seen one)

3. I'm not living in a tree house

4. There is food everywhere! From Burger King to my personal favorite (although I have not tasted it, "Pollo Compero" which I can liken to a more elaborate KFC) to little corner cafes selling homemade papusa's and vendor selling plantains and fruit while you ride the bus.

5. But there is no dunkin donuts.

Now that I've clarfied those things...these first few days have been overwhelming in all senses of the word. After arriving at the airport, Joquain and his father picked us up along with another American volunteer Zach. We then returned to Joquain's house where Deborah and I will be staying for the next three months. Its an adorable little place with a beautiful garden and patio in the back. We have a bright orange bedroom to share. Two other European volunteers (Marla and Hanna) were also staying at the house on Saturday night. We enoyed the El Salvador vs. US Soccer game which happily/unhappily the US won.

On Sunday we got up at 4:00 am and by 4:30 were on the road in Joquain's family truck to take the other volunteers to Meanguera Island. After a three hour car ride, we then got onto a row boat with a motor for the next hour and sped through the gulf of fonesca to one of the most beautiful and equally destitute places I've ever been. The beauty of this island is such contrast to the poverty present there. Deborah and I were rather relieved that we had chosen the teaching placement and not this island turtle habitat. The volunteers have a small room with only beds, a shower/toilet/sink-in-one and a lot of pesky bugs to handle for the next few months. Of course Joquain is friends with the owner of the one hotel on the island and we had an excellent meal on the gorgeous deck.That night we slept in hammocks overlooking the gulf and again awoke at sunrise (5:00am) to take the "bus" or a larger rowboat with a motor for the hour back to mainland followed by a 4.5 hour bus ride back to San Salvador and then another bus ride to Santa Tecla (all before 2pm). We hadn't showered, brushed our teeth or had a thing to eat. It was a little rough by the end. However, our trip was worth it as yesterday afternoon we had the opportunity to liberate endangered sea turtles that had been living in protective care!

And now back to work. We briefly visited our school this afternoon. I'm not sure what I was expecting but its a far cry from White Plains High. The classrooms are half outside, and the average class size is around 36! No one else speaks english either. So we have quite a challenge ahead of us. Right now I need to go write a lesson plan on teaching colors.

I feel very comfortable in our house with our host family and the other volunteers (who are on the island during the week) are wonderful and will likely visit on weekends. I'm exhausted (as clearly indicated by the poor prose of this blog) but looking forward to the weeks ahead.

xoxo