El Salvador

The Last Blog...

2010-01-21T17:27:00.000-08:00

I've made a huge mistake... I was expecting culture shock, but completely overlooked climate shock. The S.A.D.(Seasonal Affective Disorder)ness is setting in...looking into purchasing some light therapy remedies asap.

Got up early Tuesday morning to watch the sunset, reflect on my time there, and say goodbye to the beauty that is Playa El Zonte. Seriously...you should all come and visit sometime. So peaceful. Eliana insisted upon driving to the airport with her dad to see me off...she said she couldn't sleep all night because she didn't want us to leave without her. It's about an hour ride to the airport, and she talks incessantly, but how could we say no? Once at the airport, she gave me her plastic Snow White ring as a parting gift and I said my final goodbyes.

Having changed all my information to "Rebecca" and leaving behind my surfboard, I was prepared to take on any Salvadorian "Millys" that American Airlines might throw my way...but they got wise and decided not to mess this time. That's right, AA...you better recognize. However, I did come very close to taking out a couple of women at the security check. I have very little patience for people that don't wait their turn...so I guess I don't have patience for people without patience. I should have been accustomed to this by now, since disregarding lines is standard mode of operation here, but these women cut in front of the whole line and literally pushed my plastic bin off the conveyor belt to put their suitcases through the x-ray machine first. Due to the sheer ridiculousness of this act, it took a while for the reality of the situation to set in...that actually just happened. But, it's probably a good thing that my reaction time was delayed by disbelief...otherwise I might have had to Buz-rage (that's a Peterson-ism...Buz is one of my many nicknames, and this refers to the way I defended myself as the youngest of 4 siblings...the action basically consists of just running towards the antagonist with flailing arms and crazy facial expressions...it only works if you commit 100% to sacrificing your body for the cause)on them...which usually leads to punishment, and I'm sure the Salvadorian airport security would be harsher than my parents. So, instead I attempted to show my disapproval with dirty looks...no where near as satisfying.

After making it through the 3 different security check points and a full pat down...they are not messing around...I boarded the plane and unfortunately had to bypass the Business Class section this time. No more riding in style. That was a very short-lived elevation in class. However, I did sit next to and around some nice folks who were very intrigued by all my technology and who watched "Gladiator" with me on my computer, even though they couldn't hear the dialogue...which they wouldn't have understood even if they could. I tried putting on Spanish subtitles for them, but the DVD only provided English subtitles...so I put those on anyway...figured it was better than nothing. Besides, half the time there is no dialogue, just gruesome battle scenes. Seriously, people were watching from the seats behind me, next to me and across from me. It was a hit. My gum was also I hit. I went through 2 packs of gum sharing with everyone around me.

After experiencing the most turbulence ever during the last hour and a half of the flight...we touched down at LAX. Back on US soil. I exited the plane and soon noticed a man walking next to me at the same exact pace and could feel him looking up at me on occasion. I figured it was one of my seat neighbors on the plane, so I looked up and awkwardly caught his eyes. Nope...didn't know him. But he proceeded to ask me lots of questions about my trip and tell me about his. He got kind of close, and for a second I thought he might be trying to put something illegal in my bag before we got to customs. I would be such an easy target for that...way too unassuming. Just to be on the safe side, I switched my purse to my right arm and attempted to gain some distance on him.

Apparently he didn't smuggle anything in my purse, because I made it through customs...but not without some serious questioning and many looks of suspicion. El Salvador is not a super common tourist destination...and I DO look pretty dangerous. Although, I think they should have spent more time worrying about the luggage that people shrink wrapped and less about the young blonde girl. Really...what's that all about? I saw people checking their bags like that in San Salvador and was very confused. Did they find a loophole for smuggling illegal goods? Don't lock your suitcases...but hundreds of layers of shrink wrap...totally regulation. Good to know. Next time I'll bring back some cigars and fuegos artificiales aka luces de chino in a shrink wrapped suitcase.

People were looking at me strange as I exited the airport into the pouring rain in a t-shirt and flip flops...wasn't really prepared for the drastic weather change. My cousin, Lindsay, picked me up and I promised her I'd treat her lunch for making the drive. So, she chose Olive Garden. At that point, any American restaurant chain sounded good to me. But, the highlight of the lunch was going to the bathroom, then looking for the trashcan to throw my toilet paper into, and realizing there wasn't one because I can now put my toilet paper in the toilet again. WOO HOO! Oh, the small things.

So...I'm home and I'm attempting to avoid gaining 50 lbs trying to eat all the different foods I've been deprived of. I also already went and saw Sherlock Holmes and rented about 5 movies from Blockbuster to catch up. First things first. Now it's back to reality...school, my internship and normal life. Thanks for reading.

Libertad...uno vez mas

2010-01-18T20:34:00.000-08:00

We experienced an earthquake here this morning...apparently a 6.0...it lasted a pretty long time, but I don't think it's caused much damage. At least here, it just made the water in the swimming pool sloosh back and forth. But, from what we've heard, the rest of the country seems to be fine. With everything going on in Haiti though...it seemed scarier than normal.

I went to Libertad today with Claudia and her 2 kids...my farewell trip. This time I brought my camera, and I got some pretty good snipes...if I would have had Chado's camera from Europe Semester, I could have gotten some AMAZING ones. Unfortunately, my camera is not the most inconspicuous for this type of shooting. I would have loved to have gotten some shots on the bus ride, but the bus conditions today did not allow for such pursuits. I was too busy trying to keep the stick shift out of my butt(...that's what she said...) and trying to keep myself from singlehandedly causing the driver to steer us off a cliff.

When we boarded the bus, I was pretty certain we had to be the last passengers, and that there was really no way we could fit any more people. We were standing at the front of the bus and the entire aisle way, front to back, was completely full. And, I wasn't kidding earlier...I was literally as close to the driver as was possible without sitting on his lap. And yet, we continued to pull over and acquire more passengers. After loading 10 more people, I became convinced that this was a magic bus...or that it operated like Tetris...as long as you fit the passengers into the right spots, some of them disappeared to make more room. Whatever the case...it didn't change the fact that my rear became all too acquainted with the shifter. Every time the driver changed gears (keep in mind that buses have more than the standard 5 speed...thus, more shifting), the stick shift or the driver's arm would more than graze my bum. Meanwhile, all my energy and strength was spent holding on to the last bit of the bar on the ceiling and trying my best to keep my entire body from slamming into the driver. I was already the "chele" on the bus...didn't want to draw any more attention to myself by causing an accident.

But...we made it. Today we went to the port side of Libertad where the fishermen's pier is located. We had some shrimp ceviche and minutas (their version of shaved ice) and strolled down the pier to check out all the fish. Afterward, we went back to the same market we were at last week...and paid another visit to the less than sanitary quasi butcher shop. I got a couple pics of it...but they were giving me weird looks, so I didn't get a chance to do a full expose. And this time, I was introduced to more of my unknown boyfriends and lovers, but luckily, I didn't have to use, "No tocas!" at all today. I think it helped that I was holding Claudia's daughter's hand.

The bus we took home was the party bus! It was a typical public transportation bus from the outside...but pimped out on the inside. Well, about as pimped out as you'll see in these parts. It had a TV at the front with a subwoofer and speakers all throughout. We watched the best of Daddy Yankee's music videos...which pretty much just consisted of whorish dancers...but Daddy's got some jams. Had I known this bus was equipped with all of this, I would have opted to stand on the ride home too...let the rhythm take you over...bailamos! However, I was sitting with the little ones, who were talking to me nonstop in Spanish...I don't think they've picked up that I have no idea what they're saying the majority of the time. Not to mention with music blasting and wind whipping through the bus. I just smile and nod. Good times!

And with that...my time here has come to a close. I went for my last swim in the ocean and said all my goodbyes to my new friends and the kids. It was especially hard saying goodbye to Eliana and John. It's the last time I'll get to read them bedtime stories for months. There is definitely a lot I'm going to miss...and from the weather forcast at home, the sun will be at the top of the list. Hoping for smooth sailing at the airport tomorrow...no Milly's. Excited to see many of you soon!

The final days...

2010-01-18T15:44:00.000-08:00

We've met some new people around here lately...a couple in their 60's, Gordon and Anne, from Maryland; a 60-year-old surfer, Jay, who is the epitome of a vagabond (born in Amsterdam, raised in Australia, and lived everywhere in between); and a young couple, Colin and Sunshine, who originate from England and Michigan, respectively. Not to mention all the folks from Montreal learning to surf. Contrary to my post from Libertad, there seems to be quite an influx of whiteys in the El Zonte area. The surf hotels bring in the majority. You can tell when a new crop has come in...there will be a whole new group of blindingly white people on the beach...then a couple days go by and all you see is sunburned bodies...and then the cycle repeats itself the next week.

And on the subject, I need to amend my comment from my previous post about white people being called, "chiles." Turns out it's "cheles," a kind of reversal of "leche," which is the word for milk. For those of you still having a hard time connecting the dots...milk is white, thus making this an accurate nickname. I guess just calling us "leches" would be too obvious...so they switched it up...similar to the widely used (at least among Valley Center Middle School students in the mid 90's) putdown, "renob"...the oh so secret (opportune time to pick up my sarcasm) way to call someone a "boner." Other people tried to spread "noitcere," but it never caught on...didn't have the same ring.

Anyway...I first met Anne last week when I went out for an early morning swim. It was high tide and the waves were a little rough, but once you get out a ways, it calms down. I like to swim out relatively far past where the waves break, and then swim parallel to the shore for a good distance in either direction. And I often just float around out there because the water temperature is so perfect, the views of the coastline are breathtaking...and the thought of the unknown sea creatures swimming underneath me only freaks me out every once in a while. Apparently, this activity is found to be odd/dangerous by many in these parts, including my new friend from Maryland. After swimming around for about an hour, I came back into shore, and she came down to meet me with a look of concern and astonishment. She asked if I spoke English, and then proceeded to tell me how worried she had been about me swimming so far out there and all by myself. She told me that she decided she wasn't going to leave until she knew that I was safely back on shore...she was a mother, after all. I thanked her for her concern, but assured her that I swam and played water polo in high school and have lots of experience swimming in the ocean. I don't know what it is, but many people, including the locals, have commented on my swimming and I guess it's just not common. You would think that the locals would be really good swimmers, but aside from the surfers, a lot of people I've met are scared of the waves and tend to stay in the shallow water close to shore.

Turns out that Anne is Salvadorian, but moved to the states many years ago where she met her husband and raised her family. They own one of the houses that are right on the beach here and come down for about a month every year. They are super friendly and very hospitable. When I got back from my morning swim on Saturday, they invited me up for what turned out to be an incredible breakfast spread...platanos, bacon, eggs, beans, pancakes, and fresh squeezed orange juice. Since she is originally from here, they know a lot about the country and are great contacts to have. Their house is pretty awesome too!!

Jay is here for 6 months, living with an American friend of his that owns a house on the other side of the river. We're assuming he's one of those guys that has no family and never really grew up. He's got to be at least 60 and just never stops traveling. Mike met Jay out surfing, and became further acquainted on one of his photo delivery runs. Although Mike's back prevented him from surfing for a couple of weeks, he still longed to take part in it somehow, so he became even more obsessed with my camera and taking surf shots. I seriously think that I've used my camera once in the last 3 weeks. I told him I'd leave it here with him if he buys me a new one...and, even though he'll never use it after this trip...he's seriously considering it. So, with his newfound hobby, he's been sucking up to the locals by printing out 8x10 photos of their surf sessions and doling them out up and down the beach. Because he's already gotten a reputation here of being "Senor Enojado" (Mr. Mad), like his employees at home affectionately call him, he's trying to use my camera to win friends. He doesn't realize how often he has a scowl on his face, so he's working on smiling more as well. And now, surprisingly, he's becoming Mr. Social around here.

Colin and Sunshine are staying at the hotel where Claudia works and have been traveling all over the world for the last 12 months. Mike met them because Colin has the same camera as me and his battery charger wasn't working...so they came over to the house with some Pilsner, to use my charger and hang out. They're here for about 2 weeks.

I had the perfect Saturday to finish out my time in El Salvador. Went for an early morning swim. Had a typical Salvadorian breakfast with our Maryland friends. Went home, got my book and headed to Las Olas, the hotel where Claudia works...to hang out with her during her down times and read in their swing hammocks. Had one of my favorite drinks here...Jugo de fresa de agua. Watched 3 huge whales swimming right out front. Finished another book (I have now finished 7...so I still have 4 to go, but I more than accomplished my goal of half). Went back out for another swim. Britt came down and had lunch with me at Las Olas...shrimp ceviche and french fries...so good. Went for another swim...with more strange looks and people concerned that I might just run into the whales if I keep going out so far. Chatted with Claudia and set up another trip to Libertad for Monday...although I'm not getting my hopes up about the follow through just yet. Headed back to the house...went for a swim in the pool, hung out with the kids, and read them their bedtime stories. Pretty good little Saturday. Definitely going to miss this!

Content

2010-01-14T19:43:00.000-08:00

"When we're not at peace, when we aren't content, when we aren't in a good place, our radar gets turned on. We're looking. Searching. And we're sensory creatures, so it won't be long before something, or somebody, catches our attention...

And it always revolves around the "if," doesn't it? If I just...

The "if" means that we have become attached to the idea that we are missing something and that we can be satisfied by whatever it is we have in our sight. There's a hole, a space, a gap, and we're on the search. And we may not even realize it. When we are in the right place, the right space--content and at peace, we aren't on the search, and our radar gets turned off...

There is so much to enjoy and yet we fixate on something we don't have...

This is why gratitude is so central to the life God made us for. Until we can center ourselves on what we do have, on what God has given us, on the life we do get to live, we'll constantly be looking for another life..."

(Excerpts from Rob Bell's "Sex God," Chapter 4.)

My trip is coming to a close here really soon, and I've been reflecting on what this last month and a half has been like. Most of my blogs have been humorous (or at least there was some attempt...whether or not the jokes landed is another story), so this one might be throwing you off a bit. But enough qualifiers...there were multiple times where I was disappointed by the expectations that I had going into this trip that weren't fulfilled...times that I wished things were different than they turned out to be. I didn't realize how hard it would be for me to be here without any friends (especially because my only other experience here was with 8 friends), and that therefore I wouldn't really get to travel or have as many adventures as I thought, and that, unless I develop some crazy skills in the next 4 days, I will not be leaving a pro surfer. But as I look back, I realize that this time was exactly what I needed and I'm grateful. I'm grateful for the opportunity to have so much quality time with my family (the ones that were here at least) and especially the little ones, for a chance to be still and read and be away from all the distractions, for the opportunity to be surrounded by God's beautiful creation- the ocean and the coastline here, for the people that I've met and had the chance to take part in their culture and language, and for the reminder that God is good and that he is faithful to meet us where we're at...even if that means taking us to a foreign country.

I'm looking forward to returning and to be home to welcome my soon-to-be new nephew into the world, but I will be sad to leave. I'm sure I'll write a couple more posts before I leave on Tuesday, but thanks for reading...I've really enjoyed having this blog and hope you've enjoyed reading it.

The Train is Leaving the Station

2010-01-11T23:02:00.000-08:00

...CONTINUED

We made our way through the sea of creepers to a little hole in the wall that serves up Claudia's favorite pupusas. Up until this point I'd only had bean and cheese pupusas, despite being aware that they were also made with fish and other meat. On the bus, Claudia suggested that I have one with fish...but at this point, as we were passing buckets and buckets of raw pungent fish being sold on the side of the street, in conditions that might have caused the U.S. Health Department inspectors to shat themselves in disgust...a fish pupusa was sounding less than appetizing. But...when in Rome..."Yes? Please go on."

It tasted like the street smelled...not a fan. Luckily I had ordered a frijole y queso pupusa as well...which was used as my chaser.

After pupusas, we headed into the heart of the market...basically these enclosed alleyways that are lined with makeshift stalls for different vendors. It's the most hodgepodge collection of stores selling all sorts of things. And then you have the freelance salesmen peddling single items...razor blades, shampoo, gum, and my favorite...white-out pens. Doesn't seem like there would be much demand, but if anyone could sell it, this lady could...she had quite the spiel. I'm not sure how it translated, but it rhymed and sounded great in Spanish.

By now my stomach was still not totally settled from the pupusas and so I had to concentrate on keeping my food down while I watched Claudia buy questionable raw cow parts, from a stand decorated with raw meat, located in one of the hot stalls. Definitely more subpar conditions under U.S. standards. The fish on the street were nothing compared to this. Next we went to the cheese stall where we were handed samples of what I could tell was the staple salty cheese they eat here. I'm really not a fan, but again, so as not to offend, I rallied my stomach and forced it down.

We went up and down the walkways picking up meat here, cantaloupe there, candy on the corner, etc. It was fun going with a local and seeing what their typical shopping experience is like. Relationships have been formed with each vendor that they choose to buy from and they become loyal patrons and friends over time. The lady she bought her tomatoes and onions from gave her a Christmas present for being a loyal customer. Vons...where were you on that one?? After Claudia had all her groceries and I secured a headband for Eliana, we were back on another bus and ready to head back to the beach. This bus driver happened to be her mom's boyfriend, so we got a free ride.

The ride home was significantly more crowded. Every seat was full and the aisle was completely packed with people standing. Now the bus had to maneuver back through the crazy streets again...total chaos. Our bus tried to pass another bus and ended up running over one of the stands, causing some commotion...although, I'm sure it's common. Meanwhile, as we are inching our way towards the highway (the total time it took to go 2 blocks was about 20 minutes), some more of the freelance peddlers would enter the front of the bus and force their way down the aisle selling their respective products, and then exit through the back emergency exit door. I'd say the biggest sellers were the water bags. Imagine the temperature with all that body heat. I've mentioned before that everything is packaged in bags here...including water. These probably hold 8 ounces and resemble an unfrozen ice pack. You just tear off the corner with your teeth and drink from the hole. And then...when you're done, apparently what you do is throw it out the bus window...littering fines don't exist.

Once back in El Zonte, Claudia got her kids and I got Eliana, John and the neighbor kids and we headed down to the beach for some boogie boarding and swimming. Claudia has a little boy who is 8 and a girl who is 6. At the beach, I met another young mom and her 5-year-old daughter who all the kids new from school. I'd say that the average age that women here start having kids is 16 or 17. Every girl I've met so far is younger than me and has at least one child. Claudia is only 25. Our new tutor, Cari, is 23, isn't married and has no kids. She said that in this country, women like her are told, "the train is leaving the station." If that's the case, the train is long gone at my age. The sad thing is that most of the kids grow up without dads. In the same way that all the moms I've met are young, all of them have broken/non-existent relationships with the fathers.

I've really enjoyed getting to know some more locals and practicing my Spanish with them. I can't believe I only have one week left. Claudia wants to go to Libertad again, so if it actually works out, I'm going to bring my camera to capture some of the great sights. Snipe that.

PS: I was going to finish this blog tomorrow...but I got attacked by bugs again tonight and now I can't sleep. One bit me right on the lip...looks like I've had my lips pumped with collagen...but only on one side.

No Tocas!!

2010-01-11T15:44:00.000-08:00

As noted at the end of my last post, I finally made it to La Libertad with Claudia. Schedules or any sort of planning in advance does not really jive with this culture, or any Latin culture in my experience. I usually find this an attractive quality and one reason why I like Latin America...spontaneity, go with the flow, the "P" in my ENFP personality. Ordinarily, I too see deadlines as a sort of general guideline and avoid being bound by obligation, but it was a little annoying to go 3 weeks with the constant scheduling and rescheduling.

Let's be honest...the real root of this annoyance was mostly sprung from the needless showers. Really threw off my normal, completely low-maintenance routine. The pool and ocean are just far more efficient means of bathing here. It seems silly to take regular showers if you're just going to be in one of those bodies of water 5 minutes later. So, I've come to develop a kind of aversion to "getting ready"...showering, putting on something other than a bathing suit...and blow drying my hair...forget about it (the latter also has to do with a particular botched bang trim I administered on myself...not my finest decision). So, on the 5 plus occasions that we had a day and time set, I'd get all ready, walk to her house and find out (as I had come to expect after the 3rd failed attempt...slow learner) that she needed to reschedule. If someone needs to reschedule in the U.S. they would generally email or call you...but here, most people don't use the world wide web and don't have iPhones attached to their hands at all times...we're taking it back to the old school.

Anyway, on Friday our plans actually came to fruition. I met her at her house where her 2 kids were excitedly reminding her to bring back "dulces" and "jugos" and other treats. We headed out towards the highway to catch the bus. There really are no bus stops...you kind of just hail one like a taxi. As we walked, like everyone else in El Salvador, Claudia proceeded to walk along the white line despite the speed and close proximity of the cars and semi trucks whizzing by. Seriously, people stroll on the highway as if they were cloaked in some sort of indestructible bubble wrap...with no fear and seemingly no acknowledgement that their strength is vastly inferior to any automobile...or bike with momentum for that matter. The weird thing is that there are large shoulders on both sides of the highway (which seem to be there out of necessity, because due to the crazy driving and constant passing 3-wides, defined as 3 cars parallel to each other on a 2 lane highway, are really quite common...even an occasional 4-wide), so it's not for lack of space. Thus, it begs the question...why the white line? I guess their answer must lie in the very popular bumper sticker found on many of the buses, "Protected by Jesus."

Once we found a bus to hail, it pulled over just enough to allow us to get one foot on a stair before it was quickly back on course. Claudia had me enter first, and I awkwardly stumbled my way to the first open seat, very aware that every pair of eyes was staring at me. Freaking blonde hair...gives me away every time. It's about a 40 minute bus ride to Libertad, but not today. After being on the bus a mere 10 mintues our driver pulls over along side the road in the middle of nowhere, exits the bus without explanation and disappears for a good 25 minutes. Tough to say where he went...my prediction is that he was stopping to harvest some good ole Salvadorian green bud...just a hunch.

So, as we waited we continued to attempt to get to know each other better through conversation completely in Spanish. It was rough at times, but overall I could keep the conversation going. Eventually our driver returned (with his crop to take to market?) and we were back en route.

In Libertad, the buses make their way down these ridiculously small streets crowded with people shopping and lined on both sides with vendors selling anything from fresh fish to Hanna Montana backpacks. I wouldn't want to drive a Smart car down these streets let alone a huge Blue Bird school bus. We exited the bus, and would you believe it?!...like the demographics on the bus, I was once again the absolute only blonde or white person for that matter, in sight. Surprise, surprise. I felt like the middle-aged hot mom with a boob job and spandex at a 24-Hr. Fitness...piece of meat. And I don't say that in a conceited, I think I'm hot way...I'm very aware that their interest lies solely in the fact that, despite the American view of the word, my blonde hair makes me "exotic" in this culture. In all my time in El Salvador, both this year and last, I've never really ventured far off the beaten path to the total local areas, and due to the surf culture, most places you'll find some white people venturing about.

So this was a first. And although physical touch is one of my love languages, unsolicited touch from strange men does not qualify. Let's just say, I used the phrase "No tocas!" (Don't touch!)like a broken record. I've experienced cat calling and verbal harassment in these sorts of situations before, but I've never experienced this type of repeated petting. Claudia seemed to find it pretty amusing (and to be clear...I didn't ever feel unsafe or totally violated) and tried to translate what they were saying. Instead of "gringa," the slang word for white girl in Mexico, they use the word, "chile" (not sure on the spelling). I'm not entirely certain what she was trying to tell me, but it did include the word "culo" multiple times, which translates as "butt/ass." And from the way I was greeted, and unbeknownst to me, it would seem that I have a plethora of lovers ("mi amor") and boyfriends ("mi novia") in this country.

...TO BE CONTINUED

Livin Large

2010-01-09T20:33:00.000-08:00

Mike and Britt had a date planned with their pastor and his wife on Wednesday night in the city, so naturally, I was booked for the babysitting job. However, the benefit was that we got to stay in a suite at the Sheraton for the night. Mike has a plethora of Starwood points from his carnie credit cards, which can be used at various hotels, so we got hooked up. The high life!

High-speed Internet, superior air conditioning, complimentary breakfast/coffee break/lunch/appetizer hour, a couple of English TV channels, robes and said garment's natural affiliate and most notable luxury...HOT water! Back at the ranch in El Zonte, since it's not an available luxury, the idea of taking a hot shower is appealing...although in actuality, due to the heat and humidity, it would lead to the unfortunate counterproductive phenomenon known as PSS. For those of you who don't speak acronym or are unfamiliar with this, that's "Post Shower Sweat." But with real air condidioning, this wasn't an issue in the hotel. Best shower ever!!! I went to town on the hot water. Just blasted my skin...don't think I even turned on the "F" aka, "Fria" knob. 3rd degree burns...totally worth it.

The unfortunate thing for me, was the availability of channels such as Playhouse Disney and Discovery Kids...in Spanish. As if the shows aren't bad enough in English, their Spanish equivalents are worse. At least when forced to watch them in English you can understand and pinpoint what it is that's annoying...in another language you are still fully aware that it's annoying, but can't even articulate why. You would think that I would welcome the break from watching the Doodlebops DVD every freaking day, but maybe I've become a closet fan, because I was actually wishing we were "dancing and singing" along with Deedee, Rooney and Moe rather than listening to Dora shout every word that comes out of her mouth. Seriously...something needs to be done about Dora's excitement level. She really needs to learn how to use exclamation points in moderation. Being bilingual is not cool enough to make up for the annoying lack of volume control.

And the last, but certainly not least, benefit of this trip to the city...SUBWAY...not once, but twice. We got it for lunch on the way into the city on Wednesday and then again for dinner (well...we got foot longs so we could save some for lunch the following day as well) on the way out on Thursday. And like my earlier post noted...if you've never been deprived of American food for long periods of time, you may not understand this excitement...but it's significant. One of my favorite parts of our Europe Semester DVD is the footage of 3 girls from our trip eating lunch at Hooters (which coincidentally, after watching "Big Daddy" in Spanish, translates "Melones") in Switzerland. They were caught...on film...in what could not have been a trashier, more cliche American restaurant. And yet we all understood how they were sucked in...familiarity..and those world famous wings.

So, that wasn't all that adventurous...but I will not apologize for enjoying it. And don't you worry...I'm not getting soft. I have a good adventure blog for you coming up, about my trip to La Libertad on the bus.

I LOOOVE Pirates!

2010-01-09T20:15:00.000-08:00

There is a local family that takes care of the house here year round...Jose Manuel, his wife Maria Elena, and their 3 kids, Freddy (12), Raquel (9) and Sylvia (8). They live across the street and own/operate a small store. Eliana and John have become quite fond of the kids, especially, as John more often calls them, "the girls." They come over in the mornings with their mom and help sweep up the leaves, that due to their constant falling, probably feels futile...and yet they arrive each day to repeat the same task. Eliana and John attempt to assist them with their own little brooms, but they are generally more of a hindrance than a help. Eliana has started waiting for them on the steps with her broom at 6am, hopeful that they will be headed over soon. "The girls'" arrival has now become the highlight of their day.

It's awesome to see the kids truly enjoying their time with them, especially in light of the language barrier. Eliana is really picking up a lot of Spanish, but more often than not, she just repeats the phrase, "Vamanos!" over and over again. Although she is significantly younger than them, she is a typical oldest child, and is bossy in every language. We're not exactly sure if Sylvia and Raquel can pick this up in her tone or if they just chalk it up to something lost in translation...but whatever the case, they continue to listen to her and follow wherever she goes. I've been trying to teach her to say "por favor" after she barks out commands in Spanish...you know...soften her image a little to ensure that she keeps her friends. For this, and various other reasons, it's probably a good thing that they don't know English. Last week, after changing out of her swimwear (swim suits are not all that common down here...they generally just swim in clothes), Sylvia returned dressed in a shirt with a sewn in black mesh cropped cardigan. John's response was, "OHHH...you're a pirate! I LOOOOVE pirates!!!!" Awesome.

I am now known as the beauty salon and paint all the girls' nails every couple of days. They are really into the mix and match...a different color on each hand and each foot. Might have to bring the trend back to the U.S. John is pretty bummed that he can't be a part of this event. I'd be down to paint his nails for him, but I'm pretty sure his dad would frown upon it. But, he keeps telling me that he wants "Thomas the Train" nail polish...because apparently that's all the rage with the boys these days...totally manly.

They are also very fascinated with my camera and love seeing all the pictures right after I take them. Which is why they especially liked their Polaroid pictures I took of them that they got to keep as souvenirs. I think Sylvia thought she was on a photo shoot while boogie boarding the other day. She would make sure she had a huge smile on her face and was heading right towards me before taking off on a wave. We have a lot of fun with them and appreciate that the kids have some other people to entertain them. Plus, they have learned to speak slower when talking with us so we can understand them and communicate more effectively. It's going to be a bummer next week when school starts again. They've been on their summer vacation for the whole time we've been here, so it'll be a sad day Tuesday.

Awesome Blossom

2010-01-04T22:31:00.000-08:00

Mike and Britt attend Union Church of San Salvador, an English speaking church in the city. It's an International church, which makes it fairly transient...made up of a variety of people...those working for the Embassy, missions and non-profit organizations, factory owners, English speaking Salvadorians,etc. The pastor and his wife (both Vanguard alums) and their 4 kids moved here about 5 years ago from Southern California. Originally they moved here because Peter was working for the non-profit, Enlace. They're an awesome family and have been great contacts and friends to Mike and Britt.

After church on Sunday, we went out to lunch with all of them. To Chili's!! Now...on any given day in the states, I could think of at least 15-17 other restaurants I'd rather go to (no offense to the home of the Annual Dundee Awards)...but here, after being deprived of American food for so long...getting to eat at Chili's is nothing short of a dream. Almost as good as our occasional post-church visits to Sizzler (classy establishment) as a kid.

Because of my awareness of this special occasion, ordering took on a new level of importance. Picking something that I'd be unlikely to find anywhere else around here seemed to me the best strategy. Vegetables and greens are hard to come by...but who picks salad when you have the option of ordering one of the many menu items that have helped the U.S. secure their #1 spot in the world's obesity rating? Game-time decision. If I choose poorly, I can't just try again tomorrow. Who knows when I'll have this opportunity again? Don't screw the pooch.

In the end, Britt and I decided to share the BBQ Bacon Burger (the picture...the alliteration...how could we not?!) and the Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich. It would have been unpatriotic to chose anything healthier...already on thin ice ordering a hamburger with lettuce. At this point, we both felt confident with our choices...and then...our plates arrived. The burger in front of me, the Philly in front of Britt. We cut our respective meals in half, performed the handoff. And although the Cheese Steak was delicious, there seemed to be an oversight in the action seen as fairly critical in hamburger preparation, namely the cooking of the meat.

When asked how we wanted the burger cooked, I chose "medio" with the assumption that "medium" had a universal meaning. The pooch had been screwed. For future reference, when it comes to meat in El Salvador, "medio" means practically raw, mooing...so always choose the "3/4" option. Regardless, in the spirit of not wasting food (and in honor of Micah), I still attempted to take a few bites.

I figured that if I didn't get mad cow disease or any other bovine related illness after performing a dare to stick my face in cow poo on Europe Semester, then I probably never will (for those of you who are now disgusted and have no context for this story, just go with it. Think of it as the natural progression of childhood dares produced out of sheer boredom...eating a worm, pulling a girl's hair, prank calls, ding-dong ditch, skipping school...cow poop in the face. We were on an island in Scotland with more farm animals than people and there was a monetary incentive...so sue me). In hindsight, due to my subpar knowledge of this country's meat cooking spectrum, salad might have been more prudent. Live and learn.

After Chili's, we went to Price Mart, the Costco equivalent, which provided another taste of home. After shopping in the local markets, being surrounded by familiar name brand products in bulk is exhilarating (*J in the pants). Plus, they have the same hot food set-up as in the states. For a nominal price increase and unfortunately, no soda combo, Hebrew National crosses international borders. And although we had just eaten lunch, I took the opportunity to secure some of the "best hot dogs ever" (FACT) to go...dinner...yes please! And...frozen yogurt...that sounds good...I'll have that! If there was a way to keep Subway sandwiches fresh for a week, I would have stocked up on those too.

A day of familiarity...something only those who have lived in or traveled throughout foreign countries can fully understand and appreciate.

Welcoming the 10's

2010-01-04T22:04:00.000-08:00

Ordinarily I'd consider myself a very positive person...and so would Mr. Clifton of the Clifton Strengths Finder test...positivity tested as the first of my five strengths...so, FACT. But, when it comes to New Year's, I've come to develop a pretty negative outlook. Not of the idea of a new year or the whole resolution thing, because I like that...just of the build up of the celebrations that take place on New Year's Eve and day. In my experience, this is the most anticlimactic of any holiday. It just never really lives up to the hype. Maybe I haven't been at the right parties or on the right trips, but I continually find myself disappointed. Even on the years that I feel my plans can't fail, like when a group of my best friends from college spent the weekend together in Portland...I ended up with strep throat.

This year, I'm in El Salvador and had no expectations...well, aside from expecting another night of firework warefare. And annoying as it was on Christmas Eve, at least I'd be prepared this time. We had no celebrations planned and I was content to have it be that way...just another day at the beach. With no expectations, I couldn't be disappointed. And yet...per usual, New Year's Eve insisted upon leaving a lasting negative impression. I went to bed early to try to fall asleep before the firework extravaganza that was sure to take place at midnight. I figured I'd have a better chance sleeping through the noise than trying to fall asleep in the middle of it.

At around 11:30 pm, I woke up...not because of the fireworks, which were already in full swing at this point, but because of an intense itching sensation on my hands, arms, stomach, and legs. I got out of bed, turned on the light, and found that my hands and arms were completely covered with red bumps. Large areas of the skin were totally raised. The lower half of my stomach was also covered and my legs appeared to have a multitude of bites. Before I had fallen asleep I had killed a blood-filled mosquito, a bunch of ants, and a spider (pretty standard nightly activity here). Having been startled out of dead sleep, I wasn't totally lucid and started playing out all the potentially fatal outcomes in my head. Scenes from "Arachnophobia" came to mind, stories of the West Nile virus and various other Discovery channel specials on deadly insects. For a moment, I was certain that my lungs were failing and my throat was closing up.

Considering my penchant for attracting bug bites, it would naturally follow that if there were a deadly species in this area, it would locate me. I'm actually surprised that I haven't gotten malaria yet with the amount of mosquito bites I've endured over the years. One year while working at the Orange County Fair, I got bit on my eyelid and my eye was swollen shut for 3 days. I was literally a one-eyed carnie...total freak show. For the remainder of the fair, out of fear of being bit again, I slept in a hooded sweatshirt (in the middle of July with no air conditioning) with the hood strings pulled tight so that only my nose and mouth stuck out and then, put a pillowcase over my head. Apparently suffocating was the least of my concerns.

But back to the current attack...

I doused my body in Calamine lotion, and as the itching lessened, so did my irrational thoughts of imminent death. Instead, my thoughts moved toward how I was going to get back to sleep now that the whole country was setting off firecrackers...and where that slumber would take place.

I had no idea what had attacked me, but there was absolutely no way I was taking the chance of getting back into the same bed or using the same bedding. So I moved to the couch, found some beach towels to cover myself with, put on an episode of Arrested Development, took some Tylenol PM, and tried to avoid scratching. I think I finally fell back asleep around 2 am...another New Year's Eves for the books. But, in the spirit of positivity, I did live to write about it. The jury is still out on what exactly munched on me...not sure if it was mosquitoes, bed bugs, spiders, or something really cool that I've never heard of...but whatever it was, I'm hoping their taste buds will have evolved, rendering me undesirable before the next attack.

I hope this is not a sign of what's to come in the New Year...or new decade for that matter.

Sidenote: What will our kids (or grandkids, as the case may be) wear to signify the 00's or the 10's or the 2000's on decade dress-up days? Skinny jeans, tight V-necks shirts, American Apparel?? Thoughts? Talk amongst yourselves.

And...we finally have Internet again...

2010-01-04T18:51:00.000-08:00

So...these posts are all to catch up on lost time without Internet...

The kids had fun at VBS last week, despite their very limited knowledge of Spanish. Everyday when Eliana arrived, a group of kids would come running up to her calling out her name. When it was suggested that it seemed she'd made a lot of new friends, she responded, "No...they just like to pet my hair." Haha. It's so true. The Salvadorians obviously don't see much blonde hair, and when presented with this novelty, they have the tendency to reach out and touch it.

My parents left on New Year's Eve and they are greatly missed. It's much quieter and it's been weird going whole days without playing any games. Although we were supposed to retire Settlers weeks ago...true to the nature of addicts, we backslid, slash, never really stopped. But now, without them, we've only played one night. Instead, I've turned my energies toward creating stationary rafts for optimal tanning. Depending on the time of day, certain parts of the pool fall in the shade. To keep the rafts from moving into the shadows, I rigged a raft using surf leashes attached to lounge chairs on opposite sides of the pool deck. I know...very important advances for mankind...Nobel Peace Prize worthy.

For the amount I've blogged about tanning, you all probably assume that's all I do...and expect me to come home brown. But a.) I multi-task while bronzing...finished 2 more books..."East of Eden" and "Sex God." b.)best to keep your expectations low.

Just Pretend

2009-12-29T11:27:00.000-08:00

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.

Yet another...

2009-12-27T08:05:00.000-08:00

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.

Making Up for Lost Internet...

2009-12-27T07:43:00.000-08:00

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.

Some Technical Difficulties/Feliz Navidad

2009-12-27T07:21:00.000-08:00

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!

Mas Fotos

2009-12-23T17:15:00.001-08:00

Uploaded some more pics...http://flickr.com/photos/becksinelsalvador/

Maui Babe

2009-12-22T18:31:00.000-08:00

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.

Yet Another Tale of Pain

2009-12-21T00:00:00.000-08:00

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...

Pro Surf Competition

2009-12-19T22:22:00.000-08:00

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/becksinelsalvador/

Everything in Moderation

2009-12-18T19:54:00.000-08:00

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.

Ten Day Assessment

2009-12-18T19:31:00.000-08:00

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

Las Fotos

2009-12-17T10:52:00.000-08:00

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.

The Sun Is My Enemy

2009-12-17T07:31:00.000-08:00

2009-12-17T07:14:00.000-08:00

Another day...another dollar

2009-12-16T18:22:00.000-08:00

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.

Nel-Dogg

2009-12-13T07:50:00.000-08:00

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.

Como pues...translation...oh well

2009-12-12T18:13:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-12-10T18:58:00.000-08:00

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.

Textbook Example Why Arriving To The Airport Early Is A Good Idea. FACT.

2009-12-09T14:01:00.001-08:00

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.

Early Resolutions

2009-12-07T09:56:00.000-08:00

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.

Noteworthy Facts About El Salvador

2009-12-06T09:32:00.000-08:00

*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)

3 Days Until I'm Residing in "The Savior"

2009-12-05T23:10:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-12-05T23:02:00.000-08:00

2009-12-05T23:00:00.000-08:00