Link to Orphanage photos...

http://picasaweb.google.com/VictoriaLHertlein

Attachment Issues...

I knew it was only a matter of time before this happened (again).

Now that I've been here almost seven weeks, I've formed some really strong relationships with many of the kids at the orphanage. I constantly look forward to my afternoons there. My girls group is beginning to solidify and I have my "regulars" that wait for me to sit and do homework or just chat (I use the term "chat" loosely, its more of a sign language show). A few weeks ago I wrote about how impressed I was with the actual compound itself, but now its the children there that inspire me. They are the most respectful, thoughtful and loving children I have ever encountered. Additionally, I'm struck by their openness. For example, I've only known Blanca (see picture) about 4 weeks (she's in my girls group and just about to finish 6th grade). We sit and talk about boys and relationships and then food and sports as if we've known one another for years. Her younger sister takes so much pleasure in teasing me about my accent but still never fails to come and give me that most amazing hugs every time I see her. And then there is Bryan and Chepa (who's real name is Jose Carlos). They are both 14, which normally is such an awkward age for boys but every afternoon we sit and do homework together and talk about music. Bryan is a really talented guitar player (see video) and loves to talk really really fast in Spanish to throw me off. And Chepa who is this tough guy actually ran to me when I walked through the front gates the other day (granted he needed help with math homework) we've formed this friendship. And of course my baby, Carlos, he's eight and we bonded when me made me "la boca" from newspaper. Its a puppet mouth out and play that its eating the other person. Mom, Dad, I'm bringing him home.

What is universal regardless of the age or nature of the relationship, I've found, is this unconditional love. It's just given without hesitation. The hugs, the kisses, the way they sit just a bit closer than they someone normally would (or on your lap) ready to give love and affection. When someone shares with you, the only thing you want to do is give it back tenfold and that is why I've already lost this battle with my own heart. I will leave a big piece of it here when I return to the US in a few weeks.

Imagine if adults could love as unconditionally, without inhibition, without that guarding of the heart, how much lovelier life would be.

In the book I'm reading by Paulo Coelho now the main character writes, "I figured that anyone who learns to conquer her heart, can conquer the world". In fact I think quite the opposite, I've clearly never been one to control my emotions well and when I leave those gates in the afternoon, I'm sure that I can do anything.

p.s. In the picture with Bryan and the guitar- I'm living the Sound of Music!!! haha

p.s.s. Kenzie, if you're reading this- email me! I miss hearing from you. mshertlein@gmail.com

A Voice for the Voiceless

There is a saying, "wherever you go, there you are" and today that certainly proved to be true. I'm a city girl, no matter where I go and today I got to visit the Capital city of San Salvador and fell in love with central america again.

I made a friend here. His name is Walter and he also volunteers at the orphanage as a spiritual advisor. He lives in San Salvador and offered to show us around and to attend mass with him at the National Cathedral. We left early this morning and had a grand tour. Our first stop was the Hospital Chapel of Divinia Providencia, where Archbishop Oscar Romero was shot during mass in 1980. I knew about Msgr. Romero from my Fordham days (as he was a Jesuit who fought for the working classes in El Salvador). Seeing this history was incredible. We then went to the national Cathedral in the city center and viewed the crypt of Msgr. Romero and attended Sunday mass there. Msgr. Romero is revered here as a modern day saint, he is called the man who "gave a voice to the voiceless" as he openly spoke in favor of the rights of the working poor, farmers and other marginalized groups. The tributes to him were beautiful and there is an amazing statue which lies underneath the church, its completely dark metal except for a small red sphere that is bursting from his chest- his heart. You touch the heart and say a prayer for the oppressed and for his strength. It was amazing.

We then visited some other amazing churches and historical buildings and had lunch in a traditional Salvadorian cafe. I had some shredded chicken in a biscuit, it was really good. And then to the bakery for - get this!- chocolate donut. So delicious. Finally we went to some great markets to browse and bargain.

What I love about San Salvador is the clashing of the old and new worlds. On one corner you have this amazing building with traditional spanish architecture and across the street is a Pizza hut. There were all these strange little storefront shops- like an arcade that was only open on sunday and mondays worn pool tables which would be next to a higher end shoe store. Or the road towards the main market has a beautiful Gothic church at one end. There are stone monuments marking the stations of the cross all down the road. Today I noticed a woman had set up her fruit cart at station seven! I loved the history, the architecture, the commercialism and how it all comes together to form this chaotic harmony that is any major city.

The final comment I will make is that I was quite aware of the poverty in San Salvador. Many more beggars, homeless people and shoeless children. I couldn't help but imagining Msgr. Romero walking the streets here in the late 1970's bringing a message of hope- it was a very special day.

GOL!!!!!! My thoughts on El Salvadorian nationalism

This past week we had the opportunity to experience a once in a lifetime event- attending a game of the El Salvadorian National Futbal team. The opponent: the much hated Honduras national team. We entered the gates of the stadium and were consumed by a sea of blue and white- everyone, and I mean everyone (including us) was wearing a team jersey. I was upset when I heard the vendors at the gates selling the shirts for $5.00 a piece as I had been all excited that I bargained at the market and got mine for $7.50 anyway...so thank God things improved because if my impression of this country was based solely on getting into the stadium, I would have been on a plane back to the US by now. I can't write some of the comments that were heckled by drunk Salvadorians waiting en mass to enter the stadium or how someone poked me repeatedly with an inflatable stick that said "EL SALVADOR!". Once again we were stuffed into situations that I'm surprised no one has died from stampeded. I guess the guards with the AK-47's (or something like that) standing at each door help with that issue. Basically, people are drunk before even getting into the stands. However...once we got inside and I felt safer, I began to appreciate the tradition and importance that is futbal in this country (and other Central American cultures). Perhaps it is because the country is small, or perhaps because of all the turmoil for so many years, but I can't really put into words the immense wave of nationalism and patriotism that swept over everyone in that stadium, including myself. You felt a part of something. During the game people were constantly cheering ( many times vulgar ) and also I learned later, throwing bags of pee onto the field when a bad call was made...but like everyone else I got so into the spirit of it all.

Get this- apparently I was on El Salvadorian T.V. When we got home that night, Joaquin's parents told me they saw me, the camera had focused on me cheering. How hilarious! I guess its easy to find the gringa. (And no I don't know the guy in the picture, but I LOVED this get-up!)

El Salvador lost, it was heartbreaking too. I was nervous the crowd would go crazy, but all was relatively calm considering.

Anyway, I really enjoyed this experience amidst some of its craziness. There is a love for this country (in good times and bad) that they have here, that I don't think we have in the states. I was saying to Joaquin, I'd never wear a shirt with the American flag on it and I realize that once again maybe we're missing something at home. However, I'll take attending national sporting events without the bags of urine.

Baby gets a hot shower...

So this past weekend, Deborah, Marla and I decided to take a holiday to Lago Coatepeque, a beautiful lake nestled in the crater of a now non-active volcano. The guidebook likened the hotel we chose to stay at as "similar to the lakeside resort featured in Dirty Dancing with its wrought-iron chairs, sprawling lawn and patio overlooking the lake". Well Hotel Torremolinos didn't exactly prove to be Kellermans but this "baby" finally got her hot shower.

I was a bit wary of the accomidations after I booked the room last week and only needed to give my first name and a time I wanted to show up. However, when we arrived they were expecting our group. The hotel concierge is run by a transvestite. She/He was incredibly accommodating and made sure we had all that we needed. The view was breathtaking. There was a charming funkiness to the place that I really enjoyed. I walked around without shoes on the whole weekend, from the pools to the deck out to the lake. I contemplated running out into the lake water to jump into someone's arms as tribute to the late, great Patrick Swazye, but we were cautioned not to swim in the lake as it had many fish and algae and I think pollution (my Spanish is still in its early stages). Turns out, we were the only guests staying there on Saturday night. We weren't alone however, the friendly staff was frequently asking if we needed anything, locals tried to get us to take boat tours and stray dogs and cats wandered about the property and the dining room keeping us company.

We spent the weekend lounging by the pool, reading and watching the soccer game with the staff members (the boat tours were too expensive). The hotel had a restaurant and this morning I had pancakes- they were surprisingly delicious!

Apparently Lago Coatepeque used to be a popular destination for both local and foreign tourists, however in the last few years has greatly suffered. Most of the properties around the lake are now gated homes owned by the elite members of Salvadorian society, and the bus route is difficult and a bit dangerous, making it a challenge for visitors (thus the emptiness). The road to travel around the lake is dirt and stone, a tough passage for cars. This afternoon on our way home, a friend of Joaquin our coordinator came to pick us up in his 1990 Nissan Sentra. Carlos, or "Gordo" as he is called by his friends (and rightly so) and his car had some difficulty, so much so that at one point the rest of us had to get out of the car and stand on the side of the road so that it could make it over the potholes. There is an irony to the fact that "Gordo" got to stay in the car....anyway....pleasantly there were some day visitors Sunday. Couples stopping by for lunch or to enjoy the view and a group of low-budget models having a photo shoot in the dining area.

Amidst all of this, I neglected to mention perhaps for me the most exciting and wonderful part of the weekend- Hotel Torremolinos did offer a hot shower. The flow was more of a trickle, but for for the first time in almost 6 weeks, I washed my hair with hot water. And for those minutes in that shower this weekend, I just might have had the time of my life...

Nuns have more fun

Today, October 1st is "Dia de los ninos" (or Day of the Children)here in El Salvador. All of the kids at the orphanage were curious to know what we do for "dia de los ninos" in the US, however I explained we sadly don't have this celebration. So the nuns have made this essentially an all week celebration culminating with a fiesta this evening. Monday there were clowns with pinatas and way too many "dulces" for the little ones, there were homemade pupusas and other traditional foods and finally tonight a "el drama & bailar" (drama and dancing). I'm constantly in awe of the how amazing of a job these nuns do with these children. I know when I am there I constantly forget of the outside world and any troubles I've ever had, and find myself immersed in this world of simple happiness. I have never been more upset to not have my camera with me than I was tonight.

Here's how it went down.

So I was just about to start my girls group (which I recently got permission to do!) and then we all got called to the main room for the show. First there was an acting group (of sorts) and they did some skits or "dramas", the first of which two men dressed as over-the-top women lip-synced to a woman dressed as a man and chased him about the stage. Then later, they had a guy dress as a bride and the woman as the groom and a crazy grandmother was getting an exerocismo- I think. I don't know, the kids didn't even get it. They did get that the guy was a girl and the girl was a guy and kept chanting "BESO, BESO" or "kiss!".

So then the nuns decided to do their own skit. Once again, I don't have a clue what the premise was, but from what I could gather, they were all old people injured during various wars in central america and met and hospital and were dancing. Either way- their costumes were hilarious and they pretended to have crazy injuries like missing legs and would hop around or dance in wheelchairs. Finally, they had all the kids dancing to traditional music. And now my favorite part. The acting troupe brought with them a five year old Michael Jackson impersonator. This kid brought the house down. Hands down one of the best I've ever seen. He did all of Billie Jean (mostly original choreography) and then "Thriller"! The kids all knew MJ and were bopping along. I was sitting with 3 of the older kids and they all knew "Thriller" but asked me to explain what the song was about. I'm like, oh great, how am I going to pull this off? I wish I could have video-taped this, but in my broken spanish here is what I said.

"Es un hombre camia en el lugar quien las personas muertes son, el cemitario? (the kids nod) Y, las personas muertes se levante (this is where I put my arms out like a zombie and the kids go oh! zombios" I nod). Entonces los zombios y el hombre Michael Jackson bailamos!". The grammar in that explanation is so far from correct but somehow the kids got it and now understand the premise of "Thriller". We all had a good laugh.

The kids at the orphanage LOVE to make fun of my accent when I speak either english or spanish and like to ask how to pronounce names in English. For example, "say Ang-hel-ee-ca" in ingles"- Angelica! (roaring laughter).

Finally, the other day the cleft on my chin was the source of much conversation and question. They had never seen it before and were touching my chin and asking "what was this hole?". (Sr. Susan I hope you're reading this, because this story originates with you) (Background for my response: when I was a sophomore in high school I had to make a mask of my face out of some plaster and I showed mine to Sr. Susan who was so impressed that I had all details including the cleft in my chin. I said, I had never really paid attention to that before, to which she replied, "Well, that's where God put this thumb and said 'You're done'.

The kids liked that story too.

P.S. For everyone who felt Michael Jackson was more of a menace to society, I still beg to differ as this evening was a perfect example of how great artists transcend culture, generations and language to have an impact. The King of Pop lives on in El Salvador.

P.S.S.- Meghan, if you're reading this. Didn't you have a wall calendar titled "nuns have more fun" at one point in college?