The Beach - Take 2

A couple of weekends ago, the volunteers decided to take a trip together. As we are now in the “dry season” in El Salvador (dry, dusty, intense heat without respite), we decided to go to the beach. After our Saturday morning classes, we had a quick snack and headed out on the first leg of the trip. We hopped on the bus to San Salvador, got on a city bus to get on to the bus to La Libertad, and then jumped on the bus to la playa San Diego. So, three hours and four buses later, we finally arrived at our destination.

Of course, no despedida in El Salvador can go completely smoothly. We began to look along the shore for a hostel, finding that they were not so readily available as we had first believed. We turned into a rancho that had direct access to the beach. “Hey, do you have rooms to let?” The older man looked us up and down, and slowly nodded.  “Si… for two dollars each.” We looked at each other happily. Two dollars? We could do that, even on the slightly non-existent budget available to volunteers. However, the news got slightly worse by increments as we shuffled up the stairs. Shuffle shuffle, “Oh, by the way, there are no lights.” Shuffle shuffle. “And no beds. If you want a hammock, that is extra.” Shuffle. “And the doors don’t really lock.” Shuffle shuffle. By this time we had reached the room we were going to stay in,  and saw that also all the windows were cracked or falling out. However, although this room was missing electricity, beds, locks, and any form of security whatsoever, there was the not so welcome addition of signs of rodents.

Leaving the newly dubbed “Margarita’s Crack House,” we continued in our search for a place to stay. We decided to stop and ask some locals where we should go. This was, in terms of expediency, not our wisest plan. Not only were we given a round about answer (along with complicated and, for non locals, incomprehensible directions), but then neighbors had to be asked, and friends of neighbors, and all opinions had to be given before they decided that, yes, probably the first place was the best because only gringos went there.

Failing to find this so called “gringo hostel,” we continued our quest. Finally, we came upon a place called El Aguila. Exhausted, hot, sweaty, we stepped into a place that seemed almost like paradise – there was shade provided by abundant trees, a covered plaza area, and a pool. As soon as we were done staring, slack jawed, we flagged down an employee to talk about the possibility of us staying there for the night. The room was clean, and not only had a number of beds, but also had a shower and a bathroom! Unfortunately, the price was out of our range. As we met in a “group huddle,” we decided to ask if it was possible to get a “volunteer” discount.

Korla and I approached the nice employee we had met at the beginning; after a few minutes of discussion (and after talking to management higher up), we managed to secure a rate that was slightly diminished, putting this pleasanter, and certainly cleaner, into our price range. Settling into our AIR CONDITIONED room, we were ready to stay for the night.

Of course, later that night there was a wind storm, which killed all the electricity in the area, coming back on at 4:30 in the morning (at which time we were awoken by lights and by the surprisingly jet-like boom of the air conditioner), and our toilet ended up having problems and not being able to flush. But we were able to thoroughly enjoy our time at the beach, and hey – would it have been as memorable an adventure without the setbacks? No lo creo.

The Day the First Ladies Came to Town

Yesterday, the volunteers of Centro Arte para la Paz received incredible news - that all the presidents of Central America were currently in San Salvador, and their wives were to come and visit Suchitoto. Which, of course, meant a visit to the Center. The volunteers barely had time to express our excitement when the beginnings of the entourage started to trickle in - policemen with bomb sniffing dogs. Of course, this visit following true Salvadoran style, the time of the arrival of the first ladies was still TBD – totally beyond discernment.

         Finally, after a number of security members had been waiting about for an hour and a half, the first ladies arrived – along with more secret service members, a number of SUVs, and a handful of soldiers, completely decked out with several pistols to complement their rather large automatic weapons. Sister Peggy, after greeting the first ladies at the entrance, turned to the soldiers. “I think you can wait out here.” The soldiers, wisely realizing that Sister Peg could wither them with a look before they shot off the first round of their M-16s, stayed outside of the peace center.

         I was lucky enough to be working the front desk of the museum in the afternoon. As a result, I was able to greet all the first ladies when they came in and when they left. Which means that the first ladies of Central America kissed my cheek not once, but twice.

You may take a moment to marvel.

As the ladies toured the Center, the soldiers remained outside and children continued to come in and out. One of the children happened to be a rather squirrely boy named Freddy, who also happens to be in the harp class. This combination proved to be one that made the soldados outside increasingly nervous; as a result of his involvement in the harp class, Freddy had a large, oddly shaped black bag; his squirrely nature found him coming in and out of the Center the first ladies had recently entered, taking his harp on and off. I could see the soldiers becoming more and more uncomfortable, as the spread-out, relaxed line soon became a clump. Of course, I would understand their anxiety much more if the oddly shaped bag had not also had the large rainbow colored word “ARPA” (harp in Spanish) written across it, accompanied by the sounds of the rest of the harp class coming from the corridor. All this happened while Freddy remained blissfully unaware of all the tension he was creating, finally leaving about forty minutes after he meant to go home.

         After an hour or so tour, the first ladies took their leave. Waving good-bye, taking pictures, they soon loaded into their motorcade and roared away. After five minutes, all that remained of the entourage was the mildly tramped down grass in the front.

And that was the day the first ladies came to town.

The Man Who Whistles

Reading the title in the context of the experiences of a woman in Central America, one might expect this to be an entry full of negativity, lamenting over the objectification of women.

This is not that entry.

Rather, this is an entry about the man who sweeps the plaza and streets every single morning in the town of Suchitoto; or, as I like to call him, "the man who whistles." I love to begin my morning listening to the tuneful songs he whistles, walking through the plaza on my way to Centro Arte para la Paz. Each song is accompanied by the rhythmic swish of the tied reeds against the cobblestones; he always sweeps in time to his song. Most days, the plaza already has people out and about by the time I cross it, so the beautiful tune is sometimes lost in the sounds of the odd car driving by, the shouted salutations, and the general hubbub of everyday life. But sometimes, it is only me and the man who whistles, his beautiful song filling the silent air, floating across the way to descend upon the ears of a grateful listener. With the morning sun at my back, I often stop for a few moments to enjoy the joy this man unconsciously gives me.

Once, a few months ago during the weekly spirituality night the volunteers have, we were asked to fill a page with what we believe. Amidst a flurry of words, I wrote one sentence in the upper right hand corner that comes back to me whenever I pass through the plaza - "I believe that mundane, everyday actions can create great moments of grace." Though I very much doubt he is aware of it, this man creates a moment of grace for me every single morning - a moment of quiet filled with the strains of his song that accompanies his work.

So here is in thanksgiving for all those mundane moments that turn to moments of grace; especially for my man who sweeps Suchitoto's streets, the man who whistles.

And We're Back!!!

I have now been back in Suchitoto for a complete two weeks, and already many things have happened. My first weekend back we celebrated the anniversary of the Peace Accords, signed in 1992 to officially end the Civil War. On Saturday night, the volunteers and Peggy went to Mango Mocho, one of the communities surrounding Suchitoto, for a dance/concert to celebrate both the Peace Accords and the heroes of Guazapa, the mountains near Suchitoto that were a major rebel stronghold. A band called Los Torogoces de Morazán played; this band actually played during the civil war, traveling to areas of fighting and playing for the guerillas. It was absolutely amazing to be able to share in the enjoyment of their music with people from the communities - and oh how we did enjoy it!!! We danced the cumbia, merengue, banda; you name it. Such moments of pure enjoyment - even Sister Peggy joined in! Adults and children, estadounidenses and salvadoreños - all danced together to celebrate a moment of peace in this constantly violence-stricken country.

It has been wonderful, as always, living with Rosa. We usually come home around the same time, make dinner together, and are able to talk (and usually laugh) about our days. It is so incredibly life-giving to share a home with someone I both trust and enjoy thoroughly. Just this past weekend, Rosa took me to Copapayo to visit her family. Since I have told Niña Cruz that my pupusas inflated over break, she has decided that since I am apparently ready to wed (when your pupusas inflate, it means you are ready to be married), I need to prepare - ultimately, learning how to cook Salvadoran meals and how to prepare a chicken.

The day we went to Copapayo, unfortunately, we got there to late to learn how to prepare a chicken - darn. The chicken soup was already made and waiting for us. However, Niña Cruz had some river crabs to prepare. "First rule - do not be afraid of the crab." Sure, Niña Cruz. However, in order to test my ability to not be afraid of the crab, she took one and put it on my lap. Chuckling, she said "See how it runs!" Yes, very funny; so long as you are not the one with the spiky legs of a crab running all over your lap. I was supposed to follow her into the kitchen to help prepare the crab - however, a sudden squabble between Rosa's nieces and nephews demanded my immediate attention. As soon as everything was sorted out, the crab had already been cooked - oh well. Maybe next time?

And so I am back in Suchi - ¡qué suerte!

Santa Lucia

Now, I have never had any particular connection to Saint Lucy; to me, she was yet another early saint who chose torture/death (in this case, having her eyes plucked out) over losing her virtue - no offense, Santa Lucia. However, spending time in Suchitoto, I think I may have significantly increased affection for this particular saint.

Santa Lucia is the patron saint of Suchitoto; a neighborhood is named after her, the local church is named after her, and her feast day is a BIG deal. When I say a BIG deal (notice the capitalized letters), I really do mean a BIG deal. The feast day of Santa Lucia is on the twelfth of December. The entire week before this date, there are celebrations every single day. The festivities began yesterday, with a big parade full of drums, mascaras (men dressed up with masks and sometimes dressed as women, who chase children out of the way of the parade route... which would terrify me as a child, but seems to be all fun and games to the children of Suchitoto), and the queens. Each barrio in the actual city of Suchitoto and almost every community surrounding Suchitoto elects a queen to represent them; then, there is one girl elected as the Queen of Suchitoto for the year. After the parade, each queen stood up and spoke a bit about their community - as there are almost 80 communities or so in Suchitoto, one can imagine that this took awhile. After all of the queens spoke, and the mayor and other members of the alcalde's office spoke, the Celebration of the Feast of Santa Lucia was declared officially begun.

For the entire week of the celebration, each barrio has a night to host the festivities. This begins with waking up the neighborhood with cohetes - firecrackers - or polvoras - fireworks. I got used to the cohetes eventually (they go off at all hours of the day or night), but the festivities begin at 3:30 or 4 in the morning. This is followed by an oferenda, in which anyone who decides to come is given pan dulce and café. After the oferenda, there is a procession to the church from whatever barrio you happen to be in; this includes music, everyone with candles, and four people carrying the statue of Santa Lucia through the streets. The procession ends at the church, where mass is offered. During the day, there are games in the barrio hosting the festival for the day; at night, there is a parade, and then there is a dance or a concert. Phew. An entire week of this.

It is absolutely beautiful, though. Everyone shows up to celebrate together, as a community. The Centro Arte para la Paz was able to host the oferenda for the day of festivities in Barrio San José. We had over 300 people show up, more joining the procession as we made our way to the church. We processed in two lines, our candles lighting the pre-dawn darkness, walking towards the dawn. As we entered the church, the sun was only just coming up behind the church, adding rosy tones to the whitewashed walls and candlelight.

I truly think that such events as the feast day of Santa Lucia truly show off the strengths of the community of Suchitoto, truly show off many of the reasons why I have absolutely fallen in love with this country, this town, these people. My experience has shown the people of Suchitoto to be extremely generous, filled with the utmost cariñoso for neighbors and strangers alike. As a community, they exude strength, and I feel extremely blessed to have had the opportunity to spend time with them, to be invited into homes, to be given the gift of personal stories.

Tonight, I head home for San Francisco, California. Yet, as incredibly, EXTREMELY, excited I am to see my family, I find myself looking forward to returning to the community I now count as one of my own - returning to Centro Arte, my students, my friends, and, of course, Santa Lucia.

Next blog - when I return to Suchi in a month!!!

It was an itsy-bitsy teeny weeny really quite red speedo-ini

One of the perks about living with a host family is that when they decide to go on outings, they take you with them. One of the perks about living with a host family in El Salvador is that it is warm enough to go to the beach in late November/December. And the other day, I did just that.

Rosa, Eva and I left the house about 6:45, catching a bus to meet up with the rest of the folk who were going with us. We all hopped in a silver van, and took off to the playa. After a couple of hours (we had to go past San Salvador) we arrived at the beach. And what a beautiful beach it was!!! The sand was absolutely gorgeous, the water so clear i could see my feet through the waves. Rosa stayed back with the niños, whom I had (unfortunately for the semi-dry state of Rosa) taught the game of jumping over waves. Eva and I went farther out, diving under waves and attempting to body surf to shore. Being used to the frigid waters of San Francisco, I was amazed by the fact I could swim in an ocean and still maintain feeling in my limbs.

As much as I LOVED being in the water, when it was time to eat I was more than willing to leave for some nourishment, which came in the form of a fish caught only a few minutes before I ate it. Although delicious, it was a bit of an experience to be served a fish that still had it's tail, fins, head, and eyes. For a few uncomfortable minutes, I felt the glassy gaze of the fish, condemning me for eating it. But then I was hungry, so I dug in. The Salvadorans were just tickled that I had never eaten a fish that still looked like a fish before. Half of their meal was spent laughing at me while I tried to navigate this strange new world of ribs, vertebrate, and, yes, eyes. However, after much determination, I finally ate the fish, and with true Salvadoran gusto.

Or so I thought.

"Aren't you going to eat the head??" Eat.... the head. What.

Apparently my expression when asked this seemingly innocent question was hilarious, judging from the reaction around the table. And, giving into peer pressure, I finally began to eat the head. Until I came to something that was small and really hard. "Oooh, yeah, that's the eye." I stopped eating the fish.

After resting for an hour (some rules MUST be followed - and although I am allowed to break the "don't drink a cold drink with a hot meal or else you are going to get sick" rule, I had to follow this one, at the risk of being tackled by Eva, who stands at four foot ten), we went back to the ocean. Eva and Rosa both stayed with the younger kids, so a woman named Blanca and I went a little farther out. A while into our wave frolicking, I felt a bit of a pull. "We're in a bit of a current, so let's start heading back." And that is when it happened. Every teenage girl's dream when they go to the beach.

I was saved by a super sexy Salvadoran lifeguard.

The story is only slightly diminished by the fact that the lifeguard was neither super nor sexy, and I did not need, in this particular moment, any saving. The disappointment of this experience can potentially be attributed to a number of things. Perhaps it was the fact that I, surprise surprise, could actually swim. Perhaps it was because the lifeguard really was not that cute.

Or maybe it was the ridiculously small, bright red speedo paired with the tattoo on the upper thigh.

Whatever the reason, the first statement he uttered as he took our hands served only to annoy me. "You are caught in a current." Yes. I realize this. "And I am here to save you!!" Wait... Excuse me?? And so it happened that I ended up walking next to him back to the shore. Now, at the point I let go of his hand and continued to walk, one might have deduced that the odds were I was going to make it. Not this fine lifeguarding staff. Not one, not two, but the ENTIRE lifeguarding staff ran out into the surf to help us. The water was at this point up to my knees. And of course, the entire beach turned to watch this intense at sea rescue. Upon being returned safely to the shore, the onlookers cheered and applauded. High drama with a happy ending, it doesn't get any better than that.

A few hours later, we headed home from the beach, exhausted, salty, and extremely happy. Leaving the parking lot, we stopped to give someone a lift to San Salvador. He hopped in, thanked us all, and stopped for a moment. "Hey!! The girl caught in the current!!! How are you???" It was one of the lifeguards. Because the humiliation of an unnecessary rescue had to be prolonged for another two hours.

I smiled. "Fine. Really, absolutely amazing. Your lifeguards really are brave, going out into the ocean to save people like me. I mean, we were almost in water up to our thighs." Obviously, this was meant as a joke.

He smiled, tossed his scant but willing hair, and said, "Don't worry about it. It is all in the job." Cue: attempt at a charming smile and a badly placed wink.

Well, Salvadoran Lifeguard Man, thank you. But I think I might stick with the illusion of Baywatch.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!

Happy Thanksgiving a todos y todas!!! On a day that is very distinctly American (United Statesian?), sometimes it is a little difficult to be away from home and in another country. However, I get to celebrate this day in the next best way from spending it with family - with the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace, a Sister of Charity, and fellow volunteers!! And, of course, later today we will have the unveiling of how we have creatively tried to make Thanksgiving-y food with ingredients that can be found in El Salvador. At least we will have some pumpkin pie pudding!! Pumpkin pie pudding is just the filling of pumpkin pie; I could not find flour or butter to make a pie crust, and since freezers/refrigerators are not exactly normal in markets, I decided not to bother looking hard for a frozen pie crust. So thank you Mom and Dad and Francisco for making it possible for us to have some semblance of pumpkin pie!!!

Although it is, of course, incredibly important to give thanks every day, it is always nice to have a day specifically set aside for the action. So here are a few things I am grateful for!!

In the US:
Warm showers
Readily available tea
The fact that I can use a roll of toilet paper without shaking it out to make sure there is not a scorpion hiding there
The education I have been blessed to receive
My beautiful, caring friends
My great big wonderful, caring family

In El Salvador:
Papayas that I can pick off trees
Beans!!
All of my students
Sister Peggy!!!!
Sister Margaret and Sister Susan
All of my wonderful fellow volunteers!!!!
All of my new friends
My Salvadoran family, especially for Rosa and Eva

Obviously, this is just a brief list. However, I honestly doubt I could ever list every single thing that I am grateful for. So Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!! I am sending my grateful vibes from Suchitoto.