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.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Libertad...uno vez mas
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!
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...
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!
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!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Content
"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.
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.
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Train is Leaving the Station
...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.
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!!
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
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
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Livin Large
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.
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!
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.
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.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Awesome Blossom
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.
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
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.
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...
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
