Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Just Pretend
Had to tell Eliana that the "tan game" wasn't a real thing...just a pretend contest. Turns out she was balling through her entire nap because I was laying in the pool getting tan, and she was missing the prime sun hours. I guess she got the competitive gene.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Yet another...
Mike has been working on upping the property value. Chopping down trees to create ocean views...whitewater views at that. Reminds me of my freshman year at Westmont when my friend, Annie, and I were frightened by an upperclassman who asked us to meet him outside his dorm room in Everest to work on something for Spring Sing, and then appeared out of nowhere, shirtless and clutching an axe. He nonchalantly reported that he'd just been chopping down some trees that were obstructing his ocean view. For this reason, and countless others, he appropriately received the title, "that guy." And in case you're wondering, you don't want to be "that guy." But that's neither here nor there.
The waves have continued to be huge, extinguishing my fervor for becoming a "surfer." There is a direct correlation. My desire is still there, but I've been pretty intimidated. It's difficult to feel confident when you get pounded and put through the spin cycle when you're just body surfing. Mike did however score some larger boogie boards and fins at the Salvadorian version of Costco, so we've been enjoying that. It's quite the leg workout. My dad went out for 3 sessions the other day. And poor Mike, who was really getting back into his surfing groove, threw out his back yesterday on his last ride. Story of his life...luckily, my dad, the other resident photographer, got some good pics of him shredding before he went down. He can definitely use your prayers, as he's in a lot of pain. There was also another surfer who had to go to the hospital yesterday...he hit his head on the reef and went numb. See, these are the stories that make it hard for me to fearlessly hit these crazy waves.
I have finished 3 of my books, "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years,""The Great Gatsby," and "Naive Super." That's a big accomplishment considering my track record of being a compulsive book starter, not finisher. I enjoyed all three of them while simultaneously competing in the "tan game." Definitely making progress. Now I'm working on "East of Eden" and "Forgotten God."
Finally had my first pupusa of the trip yesterday. Just as delicious as I remembered them to be. I can't believe I've gone this long without one. Especially due to the fact that the group of us that came down last year pretty much survived solely on their nourishment. It was hard to beat the price of $0.60 a pupusa and the hospitality of the women who cook them up hot and fresh right before you cross the river. But it's different having the little ones here and with the combination of Jeanne and now, Mom's cooking, we've been spoiled with many home cooked meals.
I'll get some more pupusas when I make the trek to La Libertad with Claudia this week. Due to a series of miscommunications, illness, and the holidays, we ended up postponing our trip.
This week, a church from San Diego will be putting on a Vacation Bible School program here in El Zonte. I'm looking forward to helping with that and it'll be good for the kids to meet some other little ones around here.
The waves have continued to be huge, extinguishing my fervor for becoming a "surfer." There is a direct correlation. My desire is still there, but I've been pretty intimidated. It's difficult to feel confident when you get pounded and put through the spin cycle when you're just body surfing. Mike did however score some larger boogie boards and fins at the Salvadorian version of Costco, so we've been enjoying that. It's quite the leg workout. My dad went out for 3 sessions the other day. And poor Mike, who was really getting back into his surfing groove, threw out his back yesterday on his last ride. Story of his life...luckily, my dad, the other resident photographer, got some good pics of him shredding before he went down. He can definitely use your prayers, as he's in a lot of pain. There was also another surfer who had to go to the hospital yesterday...he hit his head on the reef and went numb. See, these are the stories that make it hard for me to fearlessly hit these crazy waves.
I have finished 3 of my books, "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years,""The Great Gatsby," and "Naive Super." That's a big accomplishment considering my track record of being a compulsive book starter, not finisher. I enjoyed all three of them while simultaneously competing in the "tan game." Definitely making progress. Now I'm working on "East of Eden" and "Forgotten God."
Finally had my first pupusa of the trip yesterday. Just as delicious as I remembered them to be. I can't believe I've gone this long without one. Especially due to the fact that the group of us that came down last year pretty much survived solely on their nourishment. It was hard to beat the price of $0.60 a pupusa and the hospitality of the women who cook them up hot and fresh right before you cross the river. But it's different having the little ones here and with the combination of Jeanne and now, Mom's cooking, we've been spoiled with many home cooked meals.
I'll get some more pupusas when I make the trek to La Libertad with Claudia this week. Due to a series of miscommunications, illness, and the holidays, we ended up postponing our trip.
This week, a church from San Diego will be putting on a Vacation Bible School program here in El Zonte. I'm looking forward to helping with that and it'll be good for the kids to meet some other little ones around here.
Making Up for Lost Internet...
John is currently working on potty training. He was recently presented with his first package of underwear...boxer briefs to be exact. He immediately donned the red pair, and ran out of the house with the joy that only comes from knowing that diaper rash is soon to be a thing of the past. He jumped up and down in circles, so proud of reaching this next stage of life. Then climbed up on the wooden bench, the closest thing to a mountaintop, to declare to the world that he was wearing "big boy" underwear. He's arrived.
I can't get over how cute he looks in them. Especially the red ones. And I know that I'm biased because I'm his aunt...but come on...he's really, really, really, ridiculously good looking. Zoolander in the making. Girls, lookout! He may have soiled that pair within the first hour, but he's got more where that came from, and any awareness of unpleasant odors will be trumped by his good looks. Plus, Christmas brought more styles and varieties...mostly influenced by the surrounding Latin culture, ergo, less coverage. Walt may not have approved of his beloved mouse being depicted on such risque undergarments, but then again, it pales in comparision to the perversion of the Disney cartoonists who altered scenes in "The Little Mermaid" and other timeless classics.
My dad and Mike have never been all that interested in photography, whether that's taking pictures or just viewing them. But in the words of Dylan, "times they are a changing." I have a Canon Rebel XSi with a zoom lens. After they saw the first set of surf shots I took, they were impressed with the closeness and clarity of the photos and were constantly soliciting me to come take more pictures. Pictures of Mike and the other surfers. But, what started as compliments quickly became criticism. It was no longer good enough. Apparently, I didn't know how to obtain the optimum surf shots and needed to hone my skill. What they didn't understand was that the shots were directly related to the skills of the subject and magnitude of the waves.
After becoming annoyed with the resident photographer title I'd been given and their critique, I let them take my camera for a spin. And although their surf shots look eerily similar to mine (and continue to fill up memory card after memory card with the same stuff) they have now become obsessed with my camera and think they are professional photographers. I think their delusion lies in the click sound the camera makes when you are shooting. With that one sound you become transformed. You are whisked away to a whole new reality where your artistic perspective is in high demand by National Geographic and the like. You travel all over the world to capture rare species and aboriginals, despite their view that photographs take a part of a person's soul. "How many abidiginals do you see modeling?"
Half the time I don't even know the whereabouts of my camera. It's a race to see who can wake up earlier to snag said equipment. Similar to our childhood race to secure the ideal cartoon viewing spot in the cozy chair at Grandma Lou's house. And speaking of childhood...they've become like spoiled children...initially excited by a new toy, but all too quickly find reasons to be dissatisfied with its limits. Now the zoom lens is not quite up to par. Why didn't I have a superior one? Price evidently didn't spring to mind as an acceptable deterrent. I predict that upon return to the states, they both go out and buy their own, the top of the line model with a better zoom lens, of course...and that the camera, in Dad's case, sits on the shelf and never gets used and in Mike's case, is lost before it's removed from the box.
But for now, in this reality, they have been commissioned by Surf magazine, and in order to maintain their reputation in the art world, they'll just have to make due with what they have.
I can't get over how cute he looks in them. Especially the red ones. And I know that I'm biased because I'm his aunt...but come on...he's really, really, really, ridiculously good looking. Zoolander in the making. Girls, lookout! He may have soiled that pair within the first hour, but he's got more where that came from, and any awareness of unpleasant odors will be trumped by his good looks. Plus, Christmas brought more styles and varieties...mostly influenced by the surrounding Latin culture, ergo, less coverage. Walt may not have approved of his beloved mouse being depicted on such risque undergarments, but then again, it pales in comparision to the perversion of the Disney cartoonists who altered scenes in "The Little Mermaid" and other timeless classics.
My dad and Mike have never been all that interested in photography, whether that's taking pictures or just viewing them. But in the words of Dylan, "times they are a changing." I have a Canon Rebel XSi with a zoom lens. After they saw the first set of surf shots I took, they were impressed with the closeness and clarity of the photos and were constantly soliciting me to come take more pictures. Pictures of Mike and the other surfers. But, what started as compliments quickly became criticism. It was no longer good enough. Apparently, I didn't know how to obtain the optimum surf shots and needed to hone my skill. What they didn't understand was that the shots were directly related to the skills of the subject and magnitude of the waves.
After becoming annoyed with the resident photographer title I'd been given and their critique, I let them take my camera for a spin. And although their surf shots look eerily similar to mine (and continue to fill up memory card after memory card with the same stuff) they have now become obsessed with my camera and think they are professional photographers. I think their delusion lies in the click sound the camera makes when you are shooting. With that one sound you become transformed. You are whisked away to a whole new reality where your artistic perspective is in high demand by National Geographic and the like. You travel all over the world to capture rare species and aboriginals, despite their view that photographs take a part of a person's soul. "How many abidiginals do you see modeling?"
Half the time I don't even know the whereabouts of my camera. It's a race to see who can wake up earlier to snag said equipment. Similar to our childhood race to secure the ideal cartoon viewing spot in the cozy chair at Grandma Lou's house. And speaking of childhood...they've become like spoiled children...initially excited by a new toy, but all too quickly find reasons to be dissatisfied with its limits. Now the zoom lens is not quite up to par. Why didn't I have a superior one? Price evidently didn't spring to mind as an acceptable deterrent. I predict that upon return to the states, they both go out and buy their own, the top of the line model with a better zoom lens, of course...and that the camera, in Dad's case, sits on the shelf and never gets used and in Mike's case, is lost before it's removed from the box.
But for now, in this reality, they have been commissioned by Surf magazine, and in order to maintain their reputation in the art world, they'll just have to make due with what they have.
Some Technical Difficulties/Feliz Navidad
We've been experiencing some technical difficulties with the Internet, thus the lack of blogs lately. Seems that my family is rather accident-prone. With computer in hand, my dad sad down in one of the plastic patio chairs, and immediately regretted his decision. Well...maybe not immediately, but definitely after he found himself flat on his pack with plastic chair pieces lodged in uncomfortable places and scattered all about. His computer made the trip with him and although it survived, the Internet chip did not. I'd have started in on the weight capacity jokes, but a.)I broke the swing, and b.) Alec, a friend who came with our group last year, had a similar experience with these plastic chairs during a rousing game of "Catch Phrase." So I just chalk it up to poor craftsmanship on the part of Guatoplast, or at least inferior plastic.
So, I'm currently paying to use the Internet at a "hotel" down the beach. The term "hotel" is used very loosely. None of the hotels around here have any resemblance to our Western equivalent, but personally, I really like them. This one is called the El Dorado and is run by and generally rented out to, French Canadians. It's really small, probably less than 10 rooms and right on the beach. It has some sweet palapa topped decks lined with hammocks and big love sacks (big fan of those), a nice pool, and a great palapa bar area. All in all, it totally reminds me of the movie, "The Beach." It's pretty exclusive, full of characters that I would suspect enjoy mind expanding drugs and who just surf all day. Not sure where these Canadians picked up surfing, but they seem very much at home here.
Christmas time in El Salvador is an experience. I've obviously never been involved in any sort of warfare, but I'd imagine battle would sound much like Christmas Eve here. The constant and unrelenting sound of gunfire, or in our case, fireworks.
Fuegos artificiales all up in this place! Every size, shape, and variety to create the most impressive displays of pyrotechnics and, literally, deafening blasts. The novelty of legalized firework possession and detonation quickly faded as the night went on. What was at first a treat for the eyes and the ears, became tortuously redundant, especially when the clock informed us that Christmas Eve had slyly turned into Christmas. There were brief periods of silence that deceived us into believing the Axis had been successfully beaten by the Allies...and then, in a moment, the piercing reminder that Hitler was still very much alive.
By Christmas morning a seize fire had been issued, but not soon enough to get in a full REM cycle. And, since kids are impervious to any sleep deficiency on Christmas, the adults were forced to medicate with their caffeine of choice, which for me, meant Exedrin. We watched the little ones fulfill their dreams of opening up their gifts that had been taunting them daily for the past 3 weeks. John graduated from "feeling up the gifts" to actually opening them...there are just way too many inappropriate jokes to be made about this, but it's Christmas and he's my innocent little nephew, so I'll show some restraint. Grandma and Grandpa finally received their $0.50 secret, which, much to my dad's chagrin is just a little short of retirement.
With Grandma and Grandpa's help and clothes, the kids dressed up like Mary and Joseph and put on a little Christmas pageant to surprise their parents. I'll get some pictures up soon...pretty classic. Later, Eliana gave us a very accurate lesson about the story of Jesus' birth, complete with drawings on her whiteboard. "Away in a Manager" was also sung a lot. I made the mistake of changing the lyrics to a couple of Christmas songs, which, in my defense were about love and other Jesus-like attributes...but I was quickly reprimanded by Eliana for my irreverance.
"You are not supposed to change Bible songs!"
That's one thing about this kid...once set, a rule is nonflexible. She's going to make an amazing hall/safety monitor...might not have any friends, but when you get to comb the halls in the distinguished fluorescent vest, who needs em.
Had anyone joined us for the remainder of Christmas, they probably would have assumed that our calendar was about 6 months off. Our activities closely resembled the festivities of a different holiday, namely the 4th of July. The weather was a pleasant 88 degrees, we spent the majority of the day at the beach or in the pool (even floating on a raft with a picture of the American flag followed by the word, "Pride"), we had hot dogs and beer for lunch, played games around the swim up table in the pool and found ourselves again at the front lines, where all loss of ammo from the night before had been replenished with a new shipment of fireworks.
Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas!
So, I'm currently paying to use the Internet at a "hotel" down the beach. The term "hotel" is used very loosely. None of the hotels around here have any resemblance to our Western equivalent, but personally, I really like them. This one is called the El Dorado and is run by and generally rented out to, French Canadians. It's really small, probably less than 10 rooms and right on the beach. It has some sweet palapa topped decks lined with hammocks and big love sacks (big fan of those), a nice pool, and a great palapa bar area. All in all, it totally reminds me of the movie, "The Beach." It's pretty exclusive, full of characters that I would suspect enjoy mind expanding drugs and who just surf all day. Not sure where these Canadians picked up surfing, but they seem very much at home here.
Christmas time in El Salvador is an experience. I've obviously never been involved in any sort of warfare, but I'd imagine battle would sound much like Christmas Eve here. The constant and unrelenting sound of gunfire, or in our case, fireworks.
Fuegos artificiales all up in this place! Every size, shape, and variety to create the most impressive displays of pyrotechnics and, literally, deafening blasts. The novelty of legalized firework possession and detonation quickly faded as the night went on. What was at first a treat for the eyes and the ears, became tortuously redundant, especially when the clock informed us that Christmas Eve had slyly turned into Christmas. There were brief periods of silence that deceived us into believing the Axis had been successfully beaten by the Allies...and then, in a moment, the piercing reminder that Hitler was still very much alive.
By Christmas morning a seize fire had been issued, but not soon enough to get in a full REM cycle. And, since kids are impervious to any sleep deficiency on Christmas, the adults were forced to medicate with their caffeine of choice, which for me, meant Exedrin. We watched the little ones fulfill their dreams of opening up their gifts that had been taunting them daily for the past 3 weeks. John graduated from "feeling up the gifts" to actually opening them...there are just way too many inappropriate jokes to be made about this, but it's Christmas and he's my innocent little nephew, so I'll show some restraint. Grandma and Grandpa finally received their $0.50 secret, which, much to my dad's chagrin is just a little short of retirement.
With Grandma and Grandpa's help and clothes, the kids dressed up like Mary and Joseph and put on a little Christmas pageant to surprise their parents. I'll get some pictures up soon...pretty classic. Later, Eliana gave us a very accurate lesson about the story of Jesus' birth, complete with drawings on her whiteboard. "Away in a Manager" was also sung a lot. I made the mistake of changing the lyrics to a couple of Christmas songs, which, in my defense were about love and other Jesus-like attributes...but I was quickly reprimanded by Eliana for my irreverance.
"You are not supposed to change Bible songs!"
That's one thing about this kid...once set, a rule is nonflexible. She's going to make an amazing hall/safety monitor...might not have any friends, but when you get to comb the halls in the distinguished fluorescent vest, who needs em.
Had anyone joined us for the remainder of Christmas, they probably would have assumed that our calendar was about 6 months off. Our activities closely resembled the festivities of a different holiday, namely the 4th of July. The weather was a pleasant 88 degrees, we spent the majority of the day at the beach or in the pool (even floating on a raft with a picture of the American flag followed by the word, "Pride"), we had hot dogs and beer for lunch, played games around the swim up table in the pool and found ourselves again at the front lines, where all loss of ammo from the night before had been replenished with a new shipment of fireworks.
Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Maui Babe
It was called to my attention that, for having been in a tropical location for 2 weeks, I'm nowhere near the hue of being confused as a local. Not that it's even possible. If I baked in the sun all day, everyday, my English/Swedish/Danish/German/Irish skin, emphasis on the Irish, would never get to that level...plus it's difficult to look indigenous with blonde hair. After my initial sun beating, I've been a little gun shy and tried to lay low. But ever since someone told Eliana how dark she's gotten, she's taken pleasure in the fact that she's winning the "tan game" and loves to rub it in my face. I told you my family loves games...it's genetic. Today she told me matter-of-factly, that she keeps getting tanner and I keep getting whiter. Whiter? Really? Alright, kid...it's on.
(Dad...read further at your own risk. Remember, ignorance is bliss.)
No more of this SPF 85 crap...this calls for some skin cancer in a bottle. So maybe it'll take 10 years off my life...odds are that Eliana will outlive me anyway, so I don't really have a shot at that competition. At least I can endeavor to be a contender in the "tan game." My packaged cancer catalyst of choice: "Amazing Maui Babe Browning Lotion II All Natural Fast Dark Tan." It was a bon voyage gift from my friend, Seth. A title like that makes you feel tanner by just holding the bottle.
But, is this cheating? Like the steroid of professional bronzers? Nah...after all, it is "all natural." Besides, the back of the bottle affirms my deepest aspirations..."sun tan lotion that is brown, and is called 'Browning Lotion,' because brown is what you want to be." So true. This lotion gets me. It also smells like frosted oatmeal cookies, and who doesn't want that in a tanning accelerant? And the claim that, "Everyone who has tried it LOVES it and returns for more," sealed the deal. Oh, peer pressure.
I lathered up, being careful to only use it on areas that were ready for some stronger sun exposure, like my legs and arms. Have to pace myself. The competition lasts until I leave, so I've got some time. Don't want to get ahead of myself and make any more rookie mistakes like I did with my back.
I met my opponent on the pool deck. She told me I smelled like the gingerbread train we had built and decorated the night before, and I informed her that it was my sunscreen. Of course she wanted some. And of course, I denied her request. I wasn't about to let my rival in on "the local secret" (another one of the enticing descriptions on the bottle). I spent the next hour (the maximum amount of time Maui Babe recommended for beginners) situated on a pool raft observing the squirrels and letting the sun do all the work. The squirrels here navigate the trees like monkeys. They jump from branch to branch and hang upside down. I watched one hold onto the tree with only it's hind legs and then it proceeded to swing itself back and forth like a pendulum.
I definitely made some progress today, but I have a lot of hard word ahead. I'll have to take the day off tomorrow though...I made a friend, Claudia, who cooks at a local restaurant and she invited me to go to La Libertad for some pupusas. I'm hoping to have some good stories after a day spent riding the bus and speaking only in Spanish. Looking forward to it.
(Dad...read further at your own risk. Remember, ignorance is bliss.)
No more of this SPF 85 crap...this calls for some skin cancer in a bottle. So maybe it'll take 10 years off my life...odds are that Eliana will outlive me anyway, so I don't really have a shot at that competition. At least I can endeavor to be a contender in the "tan game." My packaged cancer catalyst of choice: "Amazing Maui Babe Browning Lotion II All Natural Fast Dark Tan." It was a bon voyage gift from my friend, Seth. A title like that makes you feel tanner by just holding the bottle.
But, is this cheating? Like the steroid of professional bronzers? Nah...after all, it is "all natural." Besides, the back of the bottle affirms my deepest aspirations..."sun tan lotion that is brown, and is called 'Browning Lotion,' because brown is what you want to be." So true. This lotion gets me. It also smells like frosted oatmeal cookies, and who doesn't want that in a tanning accelerant? And the claim that, "Everyone who has tried it LOVES it and returns for more," sealed the deal. Oh, peer pressure.
I lathered up, being careful to only use it on areas that were ready for some stronger sun exposure, like my legs and arms. Have to pace myself. The competition lasts until I leave, so I've got some time. Don't want to get ahead of myself and make any more rookie mistakes like I did with my back.
I met my opponent on the pool deck. She told me I smelled like the gingerbread train we had built and decorated the night before, and I informed her that it was my sunscreen. Of course she wanted some. And of course, I denied her request. I wasn't about to let my rival in on "the local secret" (another one of the enticing descriptions on the bottle). I spent the next hour (the maximum amount of time Maui Babe recommended for beginners) situated on a pool raft observing the squirrels and letting the sun do all the work. The squirrels here navigate the trees like monkeys. They jump from branch to branch and hang upside down. I watched one hold onto the tree with only it's hind legs and then it proceeded to swing itself back and forth like a pendulum.
I definitely made some progress today, but I have a lot of hard word ahead. I'll have to take the day off tomorrow though...I made a friend, Claudia, who cooks at a local restaurant and she invited me to go to La Libertad for some pupusas. I'm hoping to have some good stories after a day spent riding the bus and speaking only in Spanish. Looking forward to it.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Yet Another Tale of Pain
There is a hammock swing that is tied to a large tree below the outdoor patio. My dad adjusted the rope last week so that it would rest on a knot that was further out on a limb, to ensure that participants avoid any collusions with the trunk. This modification led to a significant increase in swing traffic. Swinging became one of the kids favorite pastimes, as well as Grandpa Gary's new job. Everyone knows that my mom, AKA, "the baby whisperer," is all the kids' favorite. She's incredible with them...possesses an unparalleled amount of patience and always comes up with creative and imaginative activities. But the swing was Grandpa's in...his ticket to some face time with the kiddos. This was his niche...professional swinger (not in the non-monogamous sexual activity/wife-swapping sense, made popular in the 60s and 70s...come on...way out of line...this is a family show).
Grandpa could push them the highest and fastest. And when it comes to kids, if you can do anything bigger, better, longer, higher, faster, and/or funner...you've got their attention...that is until you're trumped by the newest superlative. For the past week, all of us women, especially my mom, have been questioning the rope's capacity to withstand the wear and tear produced by the continual rubbing on the tree knot. The kids would be flying high in the air and we'd look up at the rope with, what started as nonverbal skepticism, but eventually led to very vocal uncertainty about the safety of this activity. We were, of course, dismissed as being needlessly anxious worrywarts. Turns out it was just another case and point for women's intuition.
In an effort to save my niece and nephew from certain injury and a trip to the hospital, I subconsciously determined I'd take one for the team. Yesterday, as I sat peacefully in the aforementioned swing, Mike decided to start pushing me (most likely to release his lingering frustration from Settlers of Catan). Right as he was preparing to attempt some real Grandpa Gary momentum, the rope snapped. Unfortunately for me, I'm not quite BA enough to defy the laws of motion, and ended up with a one way ticket on that flight, rather than the far more preferable round trip. In other unfortunate news...my feet had been positioned inside the hammock...proving useless towards any attempt to catch my fall. And, like most aircrafts...despite the false security you may get from being told your seat can allegedly be used as a flotation device...if it's going down, you're pretty much screwed. I landed butt first, along with the hammock, on the exceptionally hard brick. That's gonna leave a mark...especially for someone like me...bruise like a peach. Thankfully I have a wealth of assests...even white boys got to shout...
I believe that normal protocol in this situation would be to first make sure that the victim of such a fall is not badly injured. But, everyone was too busy being thankful that this hadn't happened when one of the kids was swinging 9 feet off the ground. Bullet dodged. My dad was pretty stoked he avoided that whole scenario. Once the "I told you so" cards were played by the ladies, and it was confirmed that I only suffered some minor injuries, Mike stopped laughing just long enough to get some excessive weight jabs in...then went back to cracking up. Typical older brother...kick me when I'm down, literally. However, not everyone was as rude. Despite the fact that I didn't go into this knowing I would be performing a kamikaze mission, they decorated me a hero for sacrificing my tailbone for the good of the kids. Better me than them. Although, the kids are less than grateful that I broke their swing.
And the physical beatings continue...my body has had a rough go of it lately...hoping to break this pattern soon...
Grandpa could push them the highest and fastest. And when it comes to kids, if you can do anything bigger, better, longer, higher, faster, and/or funner...you've got their attention...that is until you're trumped by the newest superlative. For the past week, all of us women, especially my mom, have been questioning the rope's capacity to withstand the wear and tear produced by the continual rubbing on the tree knot. The kids would be flying high in the air and we'd look up at the rope with, what started as nonverbal skepticism, but eventually led to very vocal uncertainty about the safety of this activity. We were, of course, dismissed as being needlessly anxious worrywarts. Turns out it was just another case and point for women's intuition.
In an effort to save my niece and nephew from certain injury and a trip to the hospital, I subconsciously determined I'd take one for the team. Yesterday, as I sat peacefully in the aforementioned swing, Mike decided to start pushing me (most likely to release his lingering frustration from Settlers of Catan). Right as he was preparing to attempt some real Grandpa Gary momentum, the rope snapped. Unfortunately for me, I'm not quite BA enough to defy the laws of motion, and ended up with a one way ticket on that flight, rather than the far more preferable round trip. In other unfortunate news...my feet had been positioned inside the hammock...proving useless towards any attempt to catch my fall. And, like most aircrafts...despite the false security you may get from being told your seat can allegedly be used as a flotation device...if it's going down, you're pretty much screwed. I landed butt first, along with the hammock, on the exceptionally hard brick. That's gonna leave a mark...especially for someone like me...bruise like a peach. Thankfully I have a wealth of assests...even white boys got to shout...
I believe that normal protocol in this situation would be to first make sure that the victim of such a fall is not badly injured. But, everyone was too busy being thankful that this hadn't happened when one of the kids was swinging 9 feet off the ground. Bullet dodged. My dad was pretty stoked he avoided that whole scenario. Once the "I told you so" cards were played by the ladies, and it was confirmed that I only suffered some minor injuries, Mike stopped laughing just long enough to get some excessive weight jabs in...then went back to cracking up. Typical older brother...kick me when I'm down, literally. However, not everyone was as rude. Despite the fact that I didn't go into this knowing I would be performing a kamikaze mission, they decorated me a hero for sacrificing my tailbone for the good of the kids. Better me than them. Although, the kids are less than grateful that I broke their swing.
And the physical beatings continue...my body has had a rough go of it lately...hoping to break this pattern soon...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Pro Surf Competition
Just added a bunch of pics I took from the Central American Pro Surf Competition that's going on here this weekend. Got some pretty good shots. It only took 2 1/2 hours to upload 35 pictures (***Read in 'sarcasm font'). Check em out...http://flickr.com/photos/becksinelsalvad
Friday, December 18, 2009
Everything in Moderation
I doubt there have ever been this many games of Settlers of Catan played in El Salvador, in the history of the country. I'm starting to wonder if bringing it here was such a good idea.
This Thanksgiving my brother-in-law, Andrew, introduced the game to my parents and cousins. It was the hit of the weekend. We got snowed in, and it became kind of an obsession. We had to start a wait list to maintain a civilized method for deciding who got to play next. If you know my family, you know that we love games...some (apparently including some of my ex-boyfriends...for whom i was recently informed, by a source that shall remain nameless, that this affinity for games, specifically Canasta, proved traumatic) would say an unhealthy amount. And I can understand where they are coming from...we're all really competitive, and if you're not used to that, it's overwhelming. It took me many years to build thick enough skin to survive. I can be pretty sensitive and used to be brought to tears easily. But you get conditioned overtime. At this point, many of you are probably wondering how my family missed the memo that games are supposed to provide enjoyment. A valid question. And ordinarily, I'd argue that despite the smack talk, we find joy/ in playing games and a little competitive spirit...it has a bonding effect.
But...I'm starting to think that Settlers of Catan is bringing out the worst in all of us. If anyone overheard us , they'd probably have a difficult time understanding why we persist...game after game. Just ask Grandpa Doug and Jeanne. If you've never played before, it's kind of like a combination of Risk and Monopoly. The goal is to be the first player to gain 10 points through acquiring different resources needed to build settlements on the island of Catan, while simultaneously foiling your opponents plans. It can be an extremely frustrating game, especially for those who are rather competitive...and it's easy to find yourself taking things personally. It's caused many arguments between Mike and I, and I trust, for our relationship sake, it'd be best for us to spend our quality time together in the waves instead.
What's the saying? Too much of a good thing...? Whatever it is...it's fitting. Most of my dreams of late have been about this game and developing better/more complex strategies. I think that qualifies as an unhealthy amount. We're going to have to retire Settlers for a while. Everything in moderation.
This Thanksgiving my brother-in-law, Andrew, introduced the game to my parents and cousins. It was the hit of the weekend. We got snowed in, and it became kind of an obsession. We had to start a wait list to maintain a civilized method for deciding who got to play next. If you know my family, you know that we love games...some (apparently including some of my ex-boyfriends...for whom i was recently informed, by a source that shall remain nameless, that this affinity for games, specifically Canasta, proved traumatic) would say an unhealthy amount. And I can understand where they are coming from...we're all really competitive, and if you're not used to that, it's overwhelming. It took me many years to build thick enough skin to survive. I can be pretty sensitive and used to be brought to tears easily. But you get conditioned overtime. At this point, many of you are probably wondering how my family missed the memo that games are supposed to provide enjoyment. A valid question. And ordinarily, I'd argue that despite the smack talk, we find joy/ in playing games and a little competitive spirit...it has a bonding effect.
But...I'm starting to think that Settlers of Catan is bringing out the worst in all of us. If anyone overheard us , they'd probably have a difficult time understanding why we persist...game after game. Just ask Grandpa Doug and Jeanne. If you've never played before, it's kind of like a combination of Risk and Monopoly. The goal is to be the first player to gain 10 points through acquiring different resources needed to build settlements on the island of Catan, while simultaneously foiling your opponents plans. It can be an extremely frustrating game, especially for those who are rather competitive...and it's easy to find yourself taking things personally. It's caused many arguments between Mike and I, and I trust, for our relationship sake, it'd be best for us to spend our quality time together in the waves instead.
What's the saying? Too much of a good thing...? Whatever it is...it's fitting. Most of my dreams of late have been about this game and developing better/more complex strategies. I think that qualifies as an unhealthy amount. We're going to have to retire Settlers for a while. Everything in moderation.
Ten Day Assessment
Here is my evaluation of the superior and inferior aspects of El Salvador in comparison to Los Estados Unidos thus far...
Superior:
-Ocean Water Temperature
-Animal Crackers...I think the secret is tons of sugar
-Coca Light...it's just better than Diet Coke
-Size of 'Otter Pop' type frozen treats
-Strength and solidarity of ants...5 were witnessed carrying a whole Pringle chip...teamwork makes the dream work!
-Availability and placement of hammocks
-Sun intensity
-Shopping center and restaurant security...there is always at least one man standing guard with a semi-automatic weapon in ready position
-Jugo de fresas frescas
-Consistently large waves
-Amount of beach space per person...most times it feels like you have your own private beach
-Limited need for clothes, showers (might be up for dispute), makeup, etc.
-Defensive driving skills
-Tranquil lifestyle
-Frequency of firework displays
Inferior:
-Internet access...ergo, inability to play Word Twist
-Postal service...not to be confused with the music group most popularly known for the song "Such Great Heights"
-Lack of foods containing fiber...which may be intentional due to the inferior plumbing
-Ice Cream
-No Trader Joe's or any place to find good veggies for that matter
-Lack of hot water...although cold showers are generally more preferable in this heat anyway
-Food packaging...everything comes in a bag...mayonnaise, beans, sour cream, etc.
-Price of juice, toys, and boogie boards
-Lack of people who understand and appreciate "Arrested Development" and/or "The Office" references
-Sour candy...definitely should have brought a bigger supply from home
-Frequency of bug bites
Superior:
-Ocean Water Temperature
-Animal Crackers...I think the secret is tons of sugar
-Coca Light...it's just better than Diet Coke
-Size of 'Otter Pop' type frozen treats
-Strength and solidarity of ants...5 were witnessed carrying a whole Pringle chip...teamwork makes the dream work!
-Availability and placement of hammocks
-Sun intensity
-Shopping center and restaurant security...there is always at least one man standing guard with a semi-automatic weapon in ready position
-Jugo de fresas frescas
-Consistently large waves
-Amount of beach space per person...most times it feels like you have your own private beach
-Limited need for clothes, showers (might be up for dispute), makeup, etc.
-Defensive driving skills
-Tranquil lifestyle
-Frequency of firework displays
Inferior:
-Internet access...ergo, inability to play Word Twist
-Postal service...not to be confused with the music group most popularly known for the song "Such Great Heights"
-Lack of foods containing fiber...which may be intentional due to the inferior plumbing
-Ice Cream
-No Trader Joe's or any place to find good veggies for that matter
-Lack of hot water...although cold showers are generally more preferable in this heat anyway
-Food packaging...everything comes in a bag...mayonnaise, beans, sour cream, etc.
-Price of juice, toys, and boogie boards
-Lack of people who understand and appreciate "Arrested Development" and/or "The Office" references
-Sour candy...definitely should have brought a bigger supply from home
-Frequency of bug bites
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Las Fotos
I tried creating a slideshow on the blog...but it's not working. So here's a link to a Flickr account I created so you can see some more pictures from the trip. http://www.flickr.com/photos/becksinelsalvador/
If anyone has tips for how to put the slideshow directly on the blog, please advise.
If anyone has tips for how to put the slideshow directly on the blog, please advise.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Another day...another dollar
Sunday. My back was starting to feel better, but in an effort to avoid further damage (since I've yet to confirm that sour candy is proven to be effective), i opted to postpone my sun exposure one more day. Which meant another day here without surfing. Or did it?
Found a loophole. It may have been a little unorthodox, but that's generally the nature of loopholes. This surfing involved a board and a body of water. Standard. The difference was this water was not controlled by the moon, contained less Na and more Cl, mostly shaded by trees, and lacking in the wave department. For those of you who still haven't figured it out, I'm talking about a pool.
Yep. Supposed I might as well spend some time getting furthered acquainted with my board, warm my arms up with some paddling, and do some balance excercises. Better than nothing. Plus it's too hot to not be in some kind of water.
Monday. The beginning of the work week. There were waves to be ridden. No more calling in sick. I've got responsibilites here. My job is to surf. This time I was going to do things right.
Sunscreen. Check. Wax. Check. Committment to shred. Check.
My dad, brother and I all headed out together. This was Mike's second session of the day. I got some great pics of him shredding it up earlier. The waves seemed a lot less ominous than the last time I was out...at least from shore. I was pretty confident that this attempt would yield success. But, success is all relative. My definition today was that I at least stand up. Also relative. I would be happy with anything lasting a second or longer. Something that, to the untrained eye, might just appear to be another wipeout, but that, with a slow motion review, would reveal my triumph. Both feet on the board and slight vertical action.
It felt good to paddle out. Helps that the water is 80 degrees, but it was also not super strenuous today. Made it out easily and posted up on my board waiting for my wave. I knew that I wasn't in the best spot, but didn't want to position myself too close to the skilled surfers. While I passed the time, I reminded myself of the few tips my bro and dad had given me.
1. Don't place yourself perpindicular with the wave...angle yourself a little
2. Pay attention to the waves you're taking. Wait for the right ones.
3. Don't paddle so far ahead of the wave that it starts to break before you catch it
4. Stand up as soon as you feel it start to take you
Good tips, but I probably over-thought the first wave. Okay, here comes a wave. It's breaking left. Angle myself. Start paddling. Jump up as soon as you feel it take you.
I stood up. Well..at least my low standard for standing. But, it did not last long. I stood up too soon this time and the wave was much steeper than I anticipated. It didn't take long for me to realize I was about to be owned. My board went straight down and my body went every direction possible before landing hard on the side of the board. Dead butt. The good news is that the wax definitely made a difference, and although I got a little roughed up, at least I had already accomplished my goal for the day. It could only be uphill from there.
Back on the board and back in the line-up. Well...not exactly a line-up. Just my dad and me. These waves are deceiving. They don't look too big, but they end up being so freaking steep. Recipe for being rocked. For the next hour or so, I continued to attempt a ride. I stood up, Becky style, a handful more times, and took many more beatings before calling it a day. But I walked out of the waves with my head and board held high (the latter because my arms are just a little too short to really carry my board by my side...your arm span is supposed to be the same distance as your height..mine is 2 inches shorter). Goal accomplished for the day.
Unfortunately, on the way to shore, I got sucked into a conversation (if you can call it that) with a drunk Salvadorian man. He was most likely high as well, but alcohol was the only substance I could confirm without a doubt. From the stench of his breath, I'm certain he could've disinfected a hospital. He tried to convey to me, through large dramatic hand movements, which further threw off his balance, that the waves were not very good right now. And that they are beautiful in March. That actually made me feel a little better about my performance. I'm okay with letting the waves be my scapegoat. Then he proceeded to talk about turtles...at least I think that was his next tangent. I was distracted wondering how good an idea it was for him to be swimming in his state. I considered asking him, but remembered I was trying to remove myself from this conversation and didn't want to introduce a whole new topic for discussion.
On shore, John and Eliana were testing out their new little surfboards (which are really boogie boards) in the small waves. They were an early Christmas present. It's hard to believe it's December and almost Christmas in this setting. Although we do have a Christmas tree and John to constantly remind us, "Christmas is coming! It's going to snow for Christmas!" We make an effort to correct him, but he won't have any of it. "Yes it is!" I'm sorry, John...you're in for some disappointment.
He is also continually picking up all the presents under the tree and examing them, anxiously awaiting the day he can open them. When questioned about this obsession, he claims he's "feeling them up"...to which I can't help but respond with a "that's what she said" joke or some other appropriately inappropriate comment.
And Eliana has been going around finding things to wrap for Christmas. The other night she asked if I wanted to know a secret. A secret? Of course! She whispered in my ear that she is giving Grandma and Grandpa money. Money? I asked her where she got the money, and she whispered that she stole it from Daddy. Apparently she operates under the idea that the end justifies the means. Turns out it is only a quarter each, but still...I had to give her a lecture on theft. Pretty excited to see what I got for Christmas. Let's hope it's the book I'm missing.
Found a loophole. It may have been a little unorthodox, but that's generally the nature of loopholes. This surfing involved a board and a body of water. Standard. The difference was this water was not controlled by the moon, contained less Na and more Cl, mostly shaded by trees, and lacking in the wave department. For those of you who still haven't figured it out, I'm talking about a pool.
Yep. Supposed I might as well spend some time getting furthered acquainted with my board, warm my arms up with some paddling, and do some balance excercises. Better than nothing. Plus it's too hot to not be in some kind of water.
Monday. The beginning of the work week. There were waves to be ridden. No more calling in sick. I've got responsibilites here. My job is to surf. This time I was going to do things right.
Sunscreen. Check. Wax. Check. Committment to shred. Check.
My dad, brother and I all headed out together. This was Mike's second session of the day. I got some great pics of him shredding it up earlier. The waves seemed a lot less ominous than the last time I was out...at least from shore. I was pretty confident that this attempt would yield success. But, success is all relative. My definition today was that I at least stand up. Also relative. I would be happy with anything lasting a second or longer. Something that, to the untrained eye, might just appear to be another wipeout, but that, with a slow motion review, would reveal my triumph. Both feet on the board and slight vertical action.
It felt good to paddle out. Helps that the water is 80 degrees, but it was also not super strenuous today. Made it out easily and posted up on my board waiting for my wave. I knew that I wasn't in the best spot, but didn't want to position myself too close to the skilled surfers. While I passed the time, I reminded myself of the few tips my bro and dad had given me.
1. Don't place yourself perpindicular with the wave...angle yourself a little
2. Pay attention to the waves you're taking. Wait for the right ones.
3. Don't paddle so far ahead of the wave that it starts to break before you catch it
4. Stand up as soon as you feel it start to take you
Good tips, but I probably over-thought the first wave. Okay, here comes a wave. It's breaking left. Angle myself. Start paddling. Jump up as soon as you feel it take you.
I stood up. Well..at least my low standard for standing. But, it did not last long. I stood up too soon this time and the wave was much steeper than I anticipated. It didn't take long for me to realize I was about to be owned. My board went straight down and my body went every direction possible before landing hard on the side of the board. Dead butt. The good news is that the wax definitely made a difference, and although I got a little roughed up, at least I had already accomplished my goal for the day. It could only be uphill from there.
Back on the board and back in the line-up. Well...not exactly a line-up. Just my dad and me. These waves are deceiving. They don't look too big, but they end up being so freaking steep. Recipe for being rocked. For the next hour or so, I continued to attempt a ride. I stood up, Becky style, a handful more times, and took many more beatings before calling it a day. But I walked out of the waves with my head and board held high (the latter because my arms are just a little too short to really carry my board by my side...your arm span is supposed to be the same distance as your height..mine is 2 inches shorter). Goal accomplished for the day.
Unfortunately, on the way to shore, I got sucked into a conversation (if you can call it that) with a drunk Salvadorian man. He was most likely high as well, but alcohol was the only substance I could confirm without a doubt. From the stench of his breath, I'm certain he could've disinfected a hospital. He tried to convey to me, through large dramatic hand movements, which further threw off his balance, that the waves were not very good right now. And that they are beautiful in March. That actually made me feel a little better about my performance. I'm okay with letting the waves be my scapegoat. Then he proceeded to talk about turtles...at least I think that was his next tangent. I was distracted wondering how good an idea it was for him to be swimming in his state. I considered asking him, but remembered I was trying to remove myself from this conversation and didn't want to introduce a whole new topic for discussion.
On shore, John and Eliana were testing out their new little surfboards (which are really boogie boards) in the small waves. They were an early Christmas present. It's hard to believe it's December and almost Christmas in this setting. Although we do have a Christmas tree and John to constantly remind us, "Christmas is coming! It's going to snow for Christmas!" We make an effort to correct him, but he won't have any of it. "Yes it is!" I'm sorry, John...you're in for some disappointment.
He is also continually picking up all the presents under the tree and examing them, anxiously awaiting the day he can open them. When questioned about this obsession, he claims he's "feeling them up"...to which I can't help but respond with a "that's what she said" joke or some other appropriately inappropriate comment.
And Eliana has been going around finding things to wrap for Christmas. The other night she asked if I wanted to know a secret. A secret? Of course! She whispered in my ear that she is giving Grandma and Grandpa money. Money? I asked her where she got the money, and she whispered that she stole it from Daddy. Apparently she operates under the idea that the end justifies the means. Turns out it is only a quarter each, but still...I had to give her a lecture on theft. Pretty excited to see what I got for Christmas. Let's hope it's the book I'm missing.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Nel-Dogg
I've now spent a total of 4 hours with Nelson, the tutor. Mostly our sessions consist of him giving me a topic in Spanish, for example, (**no need to bust out Babelfish for this...I was known as PC Core Team's 'best translator' in '04-'05, so just sit back and I'll do the work for you) "what are some traditions in your culture?" or "how do you think the younger generations are different these days?" Then we just have a conversation about that topic until we've exhausted the subject...or until, what happens more often than not, I'm reminded that my 'best translator' title has only stuck because of the sheer irony of the designation, not because of my wealth of Spanish vocabulary.
Regardless, I've gathered some great info from these conversations with Nel-Dogg (I can't help thinking of him as that, because in a desperate attempt to appear relevant, our Old Testament professor, Dr. Nelson, requested that his class refer to him as such). First, he told me that he's on a diet and is trying to lose 20 lbs. He maintains that one beer a day actually helps your metabolism, thereby aiding in the weight loss process. He claims he read this on the Internet. Maybe that's true, but I'd venture to guess that he's a member of the Michael Scott school of knowledge, which believes Wikipedia to be the best possible source of information, because anyone can post anything about anything. I told him that I was hoping to get back in shape by surfing and shed some pounds as well. He asked how much I wanted to lose, so I gave him a ballpark figure. I gathered that his response, spoken in Spanish and translated by me into English, was: "hmm...that's not very much." I'm still not quite sure if I should be offended by that. He's either an optimist and is encouraging my success, or he feels I could stand to lose much more than that. But what the heck...either way, I'm looking at one beer a day, so win-win-win.
I also learned that in El Salvador, you can only name your children names previously given in this country. You can't borrow names you might like from other cultures. And you can't choose a name by blindly pointing at an item in the room after being spun around ten times, which seems to be the only viable explanation for the method of choice of American celebrities and the crazies who seek to emulate their lives. Kind of a strict law, but it probably saves lots of kids from torturous childhoods of being bullied. At least the celebrities' kids can name drop to defend themselves. The others have got nothing. But, I digress...
When Nelson and his wife were expecting their daughter, his wife found a name she liked in a Salvadorian novel. When they went to register her name, they were told that Celice, had never been used and were therefore denied. At this point they were really set on the name. So, they explained how they had read it in a book, and the lady advised them to bring the book back to get approval from her supervisor. They went to multiple bookstores, before finding the book at a store 3 hours away. When Nelson looked for the page with the name, he only saw "Cecile," and realized that his wife had misread it. He opted to try his luck anyway, and just happened to catch the supervisor in a chaotic moment, causing him to carelessly okay the name. That was a lot of work. Talk about some pressure to like your name.
It's been fun chatting with Nel-Dogg and recalling a good deal of the Spanish I learned in high school. Unfortunately, I think he's providing me with a false sense of confidence. He speaks very slow and enunciates everything, so I can understand him fairly easily. I start feeling like maybe I could be the 'best translator' afterall. Then I hear people in the street talking a mile a minute and all the words blur together, leaving me with the handful of words I could make out, which are too disjointed to deduce what was really said. And, I still need a miracle in the rolling of the "R's" department. I'm really struggling to stay positive about my potential to succeed at this feat. My accent is respectable with everything else, but when I attempt this, I just end up administering a spit shower to the poor person I'm speaking with. They say that your muscles in your jaw used in speech are already formed at a young age (my vagueness is due to the fact that this is only something I've heard...I have no hard data) according to the sounds used in your native language. If only beer were a remedy in this scenario as well...I'd be skinny and proficient in my Spanish pronunication.
Sadly, these tutoring sessions no longer fit into Nelson's schedule, so he's being replaced by a woman named, Carina. Maybe she'll have read some useful studies that report findings of sour candy being crucial for the reversal of sun damage. Now that is a finding I can work with.
Regardless, I've gathered some great info from these conversations with Nel-Dogg (I can't help thinking of him as that, because in a desperate attempt to appear relevant, our Old Testament professor, Dr. Nelson, requested that his class refer to him as such). First, he told me that he's on a diet and is trying to lose 20 lbs. He maintains that one beer a day actually helps your metabolism, thereby aiding in the weight loss process. He claims he read this on the Internet. Maybe that's true, but I'd venture to guess that he's a member of the Michael Scott school of knowledge, which believes Wikipedia to be the best possible source of information, because anyone can post anything about anything. I told him that I was hoping to get back in shape by surfing and shed some pounds as well. He asked how much I wanted to lose, so I gave him a ballpark figure. I gathered that his response, spoken in Spanish and translated by me into English, was: "hmm...that's not very much." I'm still not quite sure if I should be offended by that. He's either an optimist and is encouraging my success, or he feels I could stand to lose much more than that. But what the heck...either way, I'm looking at one beer a day, so win-win-win.
I also learned that in El Salvador, you can only name your children names previously given in this country. You can't borrow names you might like from other cultures. And you can't choose a name by blindly pointing at an item in the room after being spun around ten times, which seems to be the only viable explanation for the method of choice of American celebrities and the crazies who seek to emulate their lives. Kind of a strict law, but it probably saves lots of kids from torturous childhoods of being bullied. At least the celebrities' kids can name drop to defend themselves. The others have got nothing. But, I digress...
When Nelson and his wife were expecting their daughter, his wife found a name she liked in a Salvadorian novel. When they went to register her name, they were told that Celice, had never been used and were therefore denied. At this point they were really set on the name. So, they explained how they had read it in a book, and the lady advised them to bring the book back to get approval from her supervisor. They went to multiple bookstores, before finding the book at a store 3 hours away. When Nelson looked for the page with the name, he only saw "Cecile," and realized that his wife had misread it. He opted to try his luck anyway, and just happened to catch the supervisor in a chaotic moment, causing him to carelessly okay the name. That was a lot of work. Talk about some pressure to like your name.
It's been fun chatting with Nel-Dogg and recalling a good deal of the Spanish I learned in high school. Unfortunately, I think he's providing me with a false sense of confidence. He speaks very slow and enunciates everything, so I can understand him fairly easily. I start feeling like maybe I could be the 'best translator' afterall. Then I hear people in the street talking a mile a minute and all the words blur together, leaving me with the handful of words I could make out, which are too disjointed to deduce what was really said. And, I still need a miracle in the rolling of the "R's" department. I'm really struggling to stay positive about my potential to succeed at this feat. My accent is respectable with everything else, but when I attempt this, I just end up administering a spit shower to the poor person I'm speaking with. They say that your muscles in your jaw used in speech are already formed at a young age (my vagueness is due to the fact that this is only something I've heard...I have no hard data) according to the sounds used in your native language. If only beer were a remedy in this scenario as well...I'd be skinny and proficient in my Spanish pronunication.
Sadly, these tutoring sessions no longer fit into Nelson's schedule, so he's being replaced by a woman named, Carina. Maybe she'll have read some useful studies that report findings of sour candy being crucial for the reversal of sun damage. Now that is a finding I can work with.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Como pues...translation...oh well
We're originally from San Clemente, and even after we moved inland, we still grew up frequenting the beach. I'm sure we wore sunscreen, but we weren't instilled with a strong sense of its importance. We were too busy learning how to count back change and all the necessary carnie skills so we could bring in some money working at the fair by the time we were 8 years old. First things first. No money, no sunscreen.
But, once my dad went back to school and became a P.A. in Dermatology, sun protection products have become somewhat of a staple in our lives. In fact, he brought a suitcase full down here. So, one would think that I would be more vigilant with my sunscreen application. I blame it on late teaching. Bad habits were already learned. "The sun is your enemy," used to be just a slightly annoying stock phrase my dad liked to use. But now, if my understanding of the definition, "enemy," is correct, it is quite relevant. The sun has been far from congenial.
It's been 2 days since the initial burn, and yet I'm in more pain now than ever. I'm pretty sure that, due to the amount of heat radiating off my back, the air temperature increases at least 3 degrees, 5 feet any direction of me. My niece told me that her dad says, "sunburns feel better if you smack them." Before I could inform her of her father's gross misguidance, he came up behind me, and performed what would have been a great Farkle penalty. An open hand slap across my bare, red back. If this were an episode of "Arrested Development," and he was GOB, I'd be Buster and it would go something like this..."Now the next time you get sun burnt without being slapped, you'll have more fun!"
As adversaries tend to do, the sun has thwarted my plans. My goal was to surf everyday, because, let's be honest...I need the practice. Instead, I've found myself a safe house and I'm laying low until the pain subsides. My time has been spent mastering the strategy of Settlers of Catan, drinking Coca Light (shout out to Em...reasons to come visit) and playing with the little ones. Needless to say, I'll think twice before underestimating the strength of my foe.
I'm still working on getting some pictures up, so you can get the real visual of my new crimson skin, and of the trip thus far.
But, once my dad went back to school and became a P.A. in Dermatology, sun protection products have become somewhat of a staple in our lives. In fact, he brought a suitcase full down here. So, one would think that I would be more vigilant with my sunscreen application. I blame it on late teaching. Bad habits were already learned. "The sun is your enemy," used to be just a slightly annoying stock phrase my dad liked to use. But now, if my understanding of the definition, "enemy," is correct, it is quite relevant. The sun has been far from congenial.
It's been 2 days since the initial burn, and yet I'm in more pain now than ever. I'm pretty sure that, due to the amount of heat radiating off my back, the air temperature increases at least 3 degrees, 5 feet any direction of me. My niece told me that her dad says, "sunburns feel better if you smack them." Before I could inform her of her father's gross misguidance, he came up behind me, and performed what would have been a great Farkle penalty. An open hand slap across my bare, red back. If this were an episode of "Arrested Development," and he was GOB, I'd be Buster and it would go something like this..."Now the next time you get sun burnt without being slapped, you'll have more fun!"
As adversaries tend to do, the sun has thwarted my plans. My goal was to surf everyday, because, let's be honest...I need the practice. Instead, I've found myself a safe house and I'm laying low until the pain subsides. My time has been spent mastering the strategy of Settlers of Catan, drinking Coca Light (shout out to Em...reasons to come visit) and playing with the little ones. Needless to say, I'll think twice before underestimating the strength of my foe.
I'm still working on getting some pictures up, so you can get the real visual of my new crimson skin, and of the trip thus far.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
It's my second day in El Zonte, but due to the red-eye flight and adjustment to the time and climate change, I'd consider yesterday a wash. My niece, Eliana (5) and nephew, John (3) are so excited that we are all here ...and so are their parents. They now have some babysitters. I wasn't here 5 minutes before Eliana asked for that birthday present I promised her. Dang, that kid is a steel trap. Her birthday was in October but I couldn't make it to her party, so I told her I'd bring her present to El Salvador. Nail polish and lip glosses. So naturally we had to play beauty shop...she did my hair (according to her it was for my wedding...that's nice of her to be rooting for me, but her motives are appropriately selfish for a 5 year old. She just wants to be the flower girl again) while John put layers and layers of lipgloss in the near vicinity of my lips. But, to keep his manliness intact, he did use his remote control car to brush my hair. That'a boy.
Everything moves slow here...it seems like the days are more than 24 hours...which is awesome! And since it gets dark early, we go to bed earlier than at home but are up with the sun. My sister-in-law, Britt, and I got up this morning at 6 for a jog. For running on the highway, there weren't too many cars out and we received only minimal whistles and cat calls. But it's pretty humid here, so the lungs are going to have to adjust. We spent most of the morning in the pool...and then hit the beach to test out my new surfboard. I got one of those soft-top surfboards because they are cheaper, easier to paddle out and manuever, and can take beatings a little better. However...there is the issue of traction. I didn't put any wax on it, because I figured the foam wouldn't need it..FALSE. That and the waves were overhead...which, for someone that hasn't surfed consistently in more than 10 years, is TOO big. I ate it pretty good about 8 times before calling it a day. But, I haven't given up. I'm going to try the wax tomorrow and hopefully find some slightly smaller waves.
Failure was kind of a theme today...I also failed to put sunscreen on my back. I had a rash guard on initially, so I didn't think about it. But since my surf session was less than successful, I removed it and spent the day playing in the water with John and Britt. If my computer would hook up to the internet here, I'd upload a picture. I'm pretty freaking fried. The positive spin I'm going with, is that I needed a good initial burn to maximize my bronzing.
Looking forward to another day in paradise tomorrow.
Everything moves slow here...it seems like the days are more than 24 hours...which is awesome! And since it gets dark early, we go to bed earlier than at home but are up with the sun. My sister-in-law, Britt, and I got up this morning at 6 for a jog. For running on the highway, there weren't too many cars out and we received only minimal whistles and cat calls. But it's pretty humid here, so the lungs are going to have to adjust. We spent most of the morning in the pool...and then hit the beach to test out my new surfboard. I got one of those soft-top surfboards because they are cheaper, easier to paddle out and manuever, and can take beatings a little better. However...there is the issue of traction. I didn't put any wax on it, because I figured the foam wouldn't need it..FALSE. That and the waves were overhead...which, for someone that hasn't surfed consistently in more than 10 years, is TOO big. I ate it pretty good about 8 times before calling it a day. But, I haven't given up. I'm going to try the wax tomorrow and hopefully find some slightly smaller waves.
Failure was kind of a theme today...I also failed to put sunscreen on my back. I had a rash guard on initially, so I didn't think about it. But since my surf session was less than successful, I removed it and spent the day playing in the water with John and Britt. If my computer would hook up to the internet here, I'd upload a picture. I'm pretty freaking fried. The positive spin I'm going with, is that I needed a good initial burn to maximize my bronzing.
Looking forward to another day in paradise tomorrow.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Textbook Example Why Arriving To The Airport Early Is A Good Idea. FACT.
I don't mean to brag...but, I'm kind of a big deal...at least when it comes to the art of procrastination. If society celebrated socially frowned upon behaviors, I'd have this one in the bag. But, then again...not being appreciated in one's own time has been known to breed notoriety after death...so, I'm banking on that.
I was originally supposed to leave on Nov. 22, but delayed my flight because I didn't feel like I had enough time to see everyone and pull my life together after my longest carnie season ever. So, I gave myself more than 2 more weeks, and yet I still found myself frantically packing and driving here and there up until the moment we left for the airport. But, once I confirmed that my bags were under 50lbs, all my crucial documents were on my person, managed to cram my 8' surfboard into the car, and arrived at LAX long term parking 2 1/2 hours early...I ASSumed I was golden.
9:45PM. Sure enough, as the saying goes...and previously unbeknownst to you readers...I made an ass out of both of us as soon as I entered the Tom Bradley International terminal. First, a mental picture: Mom, Dad, Grandpa and Jeanne all with at least 2 bags each and then me, with 2 bags to check, a large carry on purse, my camera bag that's comparable in size to a diaper bag, and a longboard. I made my way to the self check-in kiosk with the confidence of a seasoned traveler. Take out my passport. And...cue flashback to what happened in that same spot almost a year ago exactly. For those 6 of you who were with me, you may recall that I had an issue with having "Rebecca" on my passport, but a ticket booked under "Becky." And after entering in all my info, there was that same flashing alert on the screen: Problem Verifying Your Information. Please See An American Airlines Member!"
10:00PM. No problem. We're 2 hours early and last year the crew member just bumped me to the front of the line and fixed the issue.
Not as lucky this time. I was directed to go wait in the ticketing line. Let me paint you another picture: at the front of the line is a huge Chinese tourist group, followed by Salvadorian family after Salvadorian family toting massive suitcases, followed by the blonde girl, struggling to weave her surfboard through the ropes while simultaneously maneuvering her suitcase and duffle bag. Which one of these is not like the other? Eventually my grandpa came to my aide in line...quite the spectacle. As luck would have it, I was directed to the counter with the crew member that viewed AA policies as rigidly stringent, had no sense of urgency, an inability to make decisions without double-checking everything with her manager (who, judging by the length of time it took her to walk over to said manager, held his post at least 3 terminals over), and who has clearly never heard of Mavis Beacon, or has decided to take a firm stance against typing proficiency by furthering/championing the "hunt and peck" method.
10:20PM. I tell her (for story's sake, let's call her Mildred) about my situation. She begins the unnecessarily slow process of typing in my info.
10:25PM. Mildred notices that I don't have a return flight and asks if I have a visa for living in El Salvador. Negative, Milly. She then informs me that she believes I need to have a return flight booked or a visa, but that she needs to confirm with her manager...so she leaves.
10:30PM. The hate stares from the folks in line are starting to become apparent. Mildred returns at the speed you'd expect from anyone named, Mildred. She confirms that I do in fact need a return flight. FALSE. But, there was no time to argue at this point. Okay, Milly...just book me one with my miles. Denied. She can't book any tickets using miles. I'd have to call an AA representative and then get back in line. Negative. No time. Okay...what kind of fees am I looking at if I book a flight now but cancel or change it later?
10:35PM. In Mildred's first slightly helpful move yet, she tells me I could buy the most expensive ticket, which was fully refundable, and then cancel it when I got through customs in El Salvador. Done. $960. Charge it.
10:40PM. She resumes her typing that not even a mother could feign praise. Of course my passport won't scan at this point, requiring my typing challenged friend to input all the info manually.
10:44PM. Finally making some headway. On to the baggage check. Mildred becomes aware that I have 2 bags to check and a surfboard. Out comes the rule book. Contrary to the normal allotment, passengers flying to Latin America Dec-Jan can only check 2 bags, and even though I have to pay extra to check the surfboard anyway, it still counts as one of my 2 bags. I argue that I specifically asked the other crew member about this issue and she gave me the green light as long as I paid the fee for the surfboard.
10:48PM. Commence long walk back to the ole manager. Meanwhile, a small mutiny is being organized in the line behind me. Violent vibes sent in my general direction.
10:55PM. I'm pretty certain Milly took a cigarette break on this trip, made some long distance calls, or perhaps watched all of the "Land Before Time" movies. Tough to say what took her so long...still uncertain of her level of devotion to cartoon dinosaur epics. One would think that in the 50 minutes we'd spent together I would have gathered that sort of critical information and we'd be close to BFF status...but she was a tough shell to crack, that Mildred. Despite our meaningful connection, she would make no concessions for me and reported back that her manager said I could only check 2 items.
11:00PM. Okay. Next solution. Call over grandpa who only checked one of his bags and ask if he can check my other one. Success. She consented. $100 to check the surboard. Almost through.
11:10PM. She hands me all my documents, we say our goodbyes, promise to write and K.I.T. Drop off my bags to baggage check. And finally head up to security...where, you'll all be proud to know that I killed it. No problems. Flying colors. By the time we got to the gate, they had already started boarding. WHEEW!! Barely made it. And all because I put off fixing that whole name issue after it happened last year. Procrastionation. And we've now come full circle.
But...the silver lining in all this is that I got to fly Business Class for the first time ever. And, although I still wish I was a little bit taller...I AM now a baller. And...I've never really wanted a rabbit in a hat or a girl who looked so good that I felt a strong desire to call her..so...(Those of you who didn't listen to rap in the early 90's may not get that reference, so don't beat yourself up about it). Big seats, warm nuts, hot towels, fresh mozarella with basil and incredible tomatoes, Pinot Grigio, an amazing fresh fruit and mango sorbet dessert, and no one in the seat next to me.
And now we're here!!! It's a humid 85 degrees, beautiful, green, and I already had my first one-on-one tutoring session with Nelson. He will be coming 2 times a week. At the risk of sounding conceited, I was pretty proud of my performance in recalling my Spanish. Anyway...longest blog ever...won't happen again.
I was originally supposed to leave on Nov. 22, but delayed my flight because I didn't feel like I had enough time to see everyone and pull my life together after my longest carnie season ever. So, I gave myself more than 2 more weeks, and yet I still found myself frantically packing and driving here and there up until the moment we left for the airport. But, once I confirmed that my bags were under 50lbs, all my crucial documents were on my person, managed to cram my 8' surfboard into the car, and arrived at LAX long term parking 2 1/2 hours early...I ASSumed I was golden.
9:45PM. Sure enough, as the saying goes...and previously unbeknownst to you readers...I made an ass out of both of us as soon as I entered the Tom Bradley International terminal. First, a mental picture: Mom, Dad, Grandpa and Jeanne all with at least 2 bags each and then me, with 2 bags to check, a large carry on purse, my camera bag that's comparable in size to a diaper bag, and a longboard. I made my way to the self check-in kiosk with the confidence of a seasoned traveler. Take out my passport. And...cue flashback to what happened in that same spot almost a year ago exactly. For those 6 of you who were with me, you may recall that I had an issue with having "Rebecca" on my passport, but a ticket booked under "Becky." And after entering in all my info, there was that same flashing alert on the screen: Problem Verifying Your Information. Please See An American Airlines Member!"
10:00PM. No problem. We're 2 hours early and last year the crew member just bumped me to the front of the line and fixed the issue.
Not as lucky this time. I was directed to go wait in the ticketing line. Let me paint you another picture: at the front of the line is a huge Chinese tourist group, followed by Salvadorian family after Salvadorian family toting massive suitcases, followed by the blonde girl, struggling to weave her surfboard through the ropes while simultaneously maneuvering her suitcase and duffle bag. Which one of these is not like the other? Eventually my grandpa came to my aide in line...quite the spectacle. As luck would have it, I was directed to the counter with the crew member that viewed AA policies as rigidly stringent, had no sense of urgency, an inability to make decisions without double-checking everything with her manager (who, judging by the length of time it took her to walk over to said manager, held his post at least 3 terminals over), and who has clearly never heard of Mavis Beacon, or has decided to take a firm stance against typing proficiency by furthering/championing the "hunt and peck" method.
10:20PM. I tell her (for story's sake, let's call her Mildred) about my situation. She begins the unnecessarily slow process of typing in my info.
10:25PM. Mildred notices that I don't have a return flight and asks if I have a visa for living in El Salvador. Negative, Milly. She then informs me that she believes I need to have a return flight booked or a visa, but that she needs to confirm with her manager...so she leaves.
10:30PM. The hate stares from the folks in line are starting to become apparent. Mildred returns at the speed you'd expect from anyone named, Mildred. She confirms that I do in fact need a return flight. FALSE. But, there was no time to argue at this point. Okay, Milly...just book me one with my miles. Denied. She can't book any tickets using miles. I'd have to call an AA representative and then get back in line. Negative. No time. Okay...what kind of fees am I looking at if I book a flight now but cancel or change it later?
10:35PM. In Mildred's first slightly helpful move yet, she tells me I could buy the most expensive ticket, which was fully refundable, and then cancel it when I got through customs in El Salvador. Done. $960. Charge it.
10:40PM. She resumes her typing that not even a mother could feign praise. Of course my passport won't scan at this point, requiring my typing challenged friend to input all the info manually.
10:44PM. Finally making some headway. On to the baggage check. Mildred becomes aware that I have 2 bags to check and a surfboard. Out comes the rule book. Contrary to the normal allotment, passengers flying to Latin America Dec-Jan can only check 2 bags, and even though I have to pay extra to check the surfboard anyway, it still counts as one of my 2 bags. I argue that I specifically asked the other crew member about this issue and she gave me the green light as long as I paid the fee for the surfboard.
10:48PM. Commence long walk back to the ole manager. Meanwhile, a small mutiny is being organized in the line behind me. Violent vibes sent in my general direction.
10:55PM. I'm pretty certain Milly took a cigarette break on this trip, made some long distance calls, or perhaps watched all of the "Land Before Time" movies. Tough to say what took her so long...still uncertain of her level of devotion to cartoon dinosaur epics. One would think that in the 50 minutes we'd spent together I would have gathered that sort of critical information and we'd be close to BFF status...but she was a tough shell to crack, that Mildred. Despite our meaningful connection, she would make no concessions for me and reported back that her manager said I could only check 2 items.
11:00PM. Okay. Next solution. Call over grandpa who only checked one of his bags and ask if he can check my other one. Success. She consented. $100 to check the surboard. Almost through.
11:10PM. She hands me all my documents, we say our goodbyes, promise to write and K.I.T. Drop off my bags to baggage check. And finally head up to security...where, you'll all be proud to know that I killed it. No problems. Flying colors. By the time we got to the gate, they had already started boarding. WHEEW!! Barely made it. And all because I put off fixing that whole name issue after it happened last year. Procrastionation. And we've now come full circle.
But...the silver lining in all this is that I got to fly Business Class for the first time ever. And, although I still wish I was a little bit taller...I AM now a baller. And...I've never really wanted a rabbit in a hat or a girl who looked so good that I felt a strong desire to call her..so...(Those of you who didn't listen to rap in the early 90's may not get that reference, so don't beat yourself up about it). Big seats, warm nuts, hot towels, fresh mozarella with basil and incredible tomatoes, Pinot Grigio, an amazing fresh fruit and mango sorbet dessert, and no one in the seat next to me.
And now we're here!!! It's a humid 85 degrees, beautiful, green, and I already had my first one-on-one tutoring session with Nelson. He will be coming 2 times a week. At the risk of sounding conceited, I was pretty proud of my performance in recalling my Spanish. Anyway...longest blog ever...won't happen again.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Early Resolutions
I love books. I love bookstores. I am content spending long amounts of time looking through all the different books and subjects that I could be interested in reading. And I'm especially drawn to the aesthetics of books, including the texture of the cover. It may not add anything to the content of the book, but I'm a sucker for a soft and smooth cover. Can anyone relate? Do you know that texture I'm referring to?
Anyway, I find myself purchasing lots of books in the process (editors must be catching on to my theory that "tex(ture) sells"...eh, deserving of a courtesy laugh? Is this mic on? come on!), and I get really excited about the idea of them. But what generally happens is that I will start reading one...get through a couple chapters and then I'll be excited to start another one...so then I start that one too. Pretty soon I'm kind of reading 4 books at a time and I never end of finishing any of them. Plus, all the other activities and responsibilities in life start to pile up...and I'm left with a shelf full of books that I've either partially read or that I was at some point really excited to read but haven't gotten around to.
So, since I have about two months to relax in El Salvador, I naturally got pumped thinking about all the books I could read while I'm there. Some that I've started reading multiple times but have never finished and a stack of new ones. Here's what's on the list:
*East of Eden- John Steinbeck
*What the Dog Saw- Malcolm Gladwell
*Naive Super- Erlend Loe
*Simply Christian- N.T. Wright
*A Million Miles In A Thousand Years- Donald Miller
*Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy & Fairy Tale- Frederick Buechner
* The Great Gatsby- F. Scott Fitzgerald (one would think I've already read this...but no)
*A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius- Dave Eggers
*Sex God- Rob Bell
*Forgotten God: Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit- Francis Chan
*How To Win Friends &Influence People- Dale Carnegie
So in the spirit of the coming new year, my resolution is to make a real attempt at finishing these books...well, at least half of them...because, lets be honest...I need to set attainable goals. Plus, there's the surfing, playing with my niece and nephew, Spanish tutoring, bronzing, and so on.
Anyway, I find myself purchasing lots of books in the process (editors must be catching on to my theory that "tex(ture) sells"...eh, deserving of a courtesy laugh? Is this mic on? come on!), and I get really excited about the idea of them. But what generally happens is that I will start reading one...get through a couple chapters and then I'll be excited to start another one...so then I start that one too. Pretty soon I'm kind of reading 4 books at a time and I never end of finishing any of them. Plus, all the other activities and responsibilities in life start to pile up...and I'm left with a shelf full of books that I've either partially read or that I was at some point really excited to read but haven't gotten around to.
So, since I have about two months to relax in El Salvador, I naturally got pumped thinking about all the books I could read while I'm there. Some that I've started reading multiple times but have never finished and a stack of new ones. Here's what's on the list:
*East of Eden- John Steinbeck
*What the Dog Saw- Malcolm Gladwell
*Naive Super- Erlend Loe
*Simply Christian- N.T. Wright
*A Million Miles In A Thousand Years- Donald Miller
*Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy & Fairy Tale- Frederick Buechner
* The Great Gatsby- F. Scott Fitzgerald (one would think I've already read this...but no)
*A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius- Dave Eggers
*Sex God- Rob Bell
*Forgotten God: Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit- Francis Chan
*How To Win Friends &Influence People- Dale Carnegie
So in the spirit of the coming new year, my resolution is to make a real attempt at finishing these books...well, at least half of them...because, lets be honest...I need to set attainable goals. Plus, there's the surfing, playing with my niece and nephew, Spanish tutoring, bronzing, and so on.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Noteworthy Facts About El Salvador
*The smallest country in Central America; the only one that doesn't have a Caribbean coastline; has some of the best surfing in the world; has 21 volcanoes; and is the most densely populated country in all the Americas
*Of the world's top 10 countries with the highest murder rates, it's considered 8th. (But not to worry...the majority are committed by and upon gang members...and although I'm pretty thug, my lack of full body and facial tattoos should keep me under the radar)
* Since 2001, the US dollar is its official currency
*A first time drinking and driving offense results in execution by firing squad. (MADD tried to pass this in the US, but legislators felt we'd lose too many actors, singers, and professional athletes)
* Their official dish, the Pupusa, has been described by some as "better than sex" (the jury is still out on that, but let me assure you...they are pretty incredible)
*Of the world's top 10 countries with the highest murder rates, it's considered 8th. (But not to worry...the majority are committed by and upon gang members...and although I'm pretty thug, my lack of full body and facial tattoos should keep me under the radar)
* Since 2001, the US dollar is its official currency
*A first time drinking and driving offense results in execution by firing squad. (MADD tried to pass this in the US, but legislators felt we'd lose too many actors, singers, and professional athletes)
* Their official dish, the Pupusa, has been described by some as "better than sex" (the jury is still out on that, but let me assure you...they are pretty incredible)
Saturday, December 5, 2009
3 Days Until I'm Residing in "The Savior"
I'm heading down to El Salvador for almost 2 months on Tuesday. My brother, Mike, owns a house in a small surf town called, El Zonte. He and his wife and 2 kids will be living down there for 4 months, and I'm joining them for part of the time. It'll be a tropical Christmas and New Years. Other than surfing everyday and a stack of books I want to read, I have nothing planned. I'm just excited to relax after an extra long carnie season. And, as usual, I'm hoping for some noteworthy adventures and stories worth blogging about. Vamos a ver.
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