...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.
Monday, January 11, 2010
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.
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