Getting a Little Nuts

Things are beginning to get a little nuts around here. As time winds down in training I find that life is speeding up a little bit and my emotions are a little all over the place.

The first and most obvious reason why I am a little out of my mind right now is that we've had both of our interviews to assign our sites and we are less than a week away from finding out where we will be spending the rest of our two years. My APCD (basically my boss) seemed very excited after my second interview and gave me the impression that based on my statements, he already had a site that seemed to be my cup of tea. That seems encouraging to me that there is a site that seems to fit based on my personality and what I like working on. But damn it I want to know now where I will live. The waiting really is the hardest part.

The second and more confusing issue on my mind is the early termination of our second and third trainees from our training group. Granted they are married so that makes two departing at once a little less shocking, but I really feel like I was getting to know them and that they would make it for the long haul. I understand their decision and I can't say that I blame them, but it feels like things are slowly falling apart. Besides, Will was one of the guys and we are very few in numbers these days. Two of the three that have left were guys and there weren't that many of us to begin with. This just sort of sets the wheels in motion wondering who else is destined to jump ship, and who else I will regret losing as an in-country pal.

The final nail in my crazy coffin right now is something called Fiestas Patronales. Loosely translated it means festivals for saints, or the patron saints of each town. Yes, each town here has its own saint and I'll be damned if they don't celbrate the hell out of him. The fiesta here isn't even supposed to begin for a week, but already every person that could possibly be selling anything has set up shop in the park, which happens to be right in front of my house. Noises and hollering continue all night and just about drive me nuts til I pass out with exhaustion. I am wondering what it will be like in a week when more stalls arrive to sell stuff, rides start getting set up and fireworks start going off with even more regularity than they already do. I don't imagine there will be much sleeping involved. On the up side I am all set to try some elote loco, which is crazy corn, or corn with every topping known to man on it. Hopefully there will be some photos.

Isla Tasajera

For a little rest and relaxation we went to a little island off the Costa del Sol called Isla Tasajera. We rented out the entirety of a hotel for $26 per person for 2 nights, that included all food and lodging. It was a little on the expensive side considering our budgets, but I think it was worth every cent.

We started by taking a private bus straight from the training center, which is the best way to do it in my opinion. The bus ride was what you'd expect of a bunch of 20 something people in a private bus on their way to party it up on an island, in other words, party bus. That was largely the case until two police men busted into the back door and I proceeded to hide everything from view. However we were lucky and they just wanted to hitch a free ride for a few miles and didn't have any plans to hinder our fun. Once we got to the beach two little water taxis took us the rest of the way and we proceeded to eat dinner then continue with our festivities. That meant lots of cards and lots of beer, a good combo if you ask me.

Somehow when we were deciding rooms I picked a room with two of the other guys, but when I turned around only my stuff was in the room and I was a bit confused about why they went to other rooms. I made sure to tell everyone that I had a room to myself and anyone could switch if their room was crowded, but I remained solo. That made me feel a bit lonely in the grand scheme of things. Did I smell or something? I mean what did I do to either earn a room solo or get abandoned for the comfort of more crowded spaces?


The morning was our first real view of the island since we got in after dark. It was quiet and pretty and I got a few nice shots of the sun on the water in the morning. Clearly we spent most of the day at the beach playing in the water and getting burnt. The water was warmer than I am used to for the Pacific and the beach was a sort of silty sand. The waves were fun and large enough to play around in. So we swam, played frisbee, kicked around a ball and good fun was had by all.

The evening was largely a repeat of the first, but this time a little more boistrous and with a little more in the way of adult beverages. This time we played lots of cards and talked for hours. I can't speak enough of the combination of beer, cards and hammocks, it does wonders for the spirit.


The following morning some of us took a scenic boat ride and saw some of the nice houses and boats along the Costa del Sol, as well as a little bird infested island. We left mid day.

The Pajaro, the Guacal and the Carlos

So now that I have managed to sneak away and have some time to update I realized my previous account was somewhat clinical and bland. I will recount some of the interesting things that slipped my mind when I wrote about Field Based Training.

First and foremost I was originally offered a matress on the floor of the Casa Antonia, she managed to one up herself by presenting me with a bed upon my return. I was thankful for the upgrade and assured her that I would be a good house guest. To my surprise not all was alright with the bed. First it did´n't have a matress, instead just a few sheets folded over the base of the bed, thats ok though, I can manage on a floor or a hammock in a pinch and this was better than either of those. Upon laying on the bed it became immediately evident that at the foot of the bed a large guacal (think big plastic tub) was hogging all the foot space. I did my best to move it without making too much of a fuss, but it was full and stacked high with luggage and what seemed to be half of all the clothes in the room. I didn't bother too much with it after that, I had made a little more space, enough to spread my legs and put one foot on either side of the guacal.

My big surprise came during the night after I had already dealt with the problems of the blankets and the guacal. To my shock and horror there was a thumping under the bed, originating from a cardboard box without any labels. I didn't know exactly what to do with it but just sorta ignore it and hope it wasn't life threatening. By the time the sound presented itself everyone was asleep except me. The next morning Antonia entered my room and removed the mystery box. Apparently a small parrot sleeps in the box under the bed every night, and since I hadn't been to the back of the house during daylight the day before, I didn't see the parrot on its daytime perch. Suffice to say that whenever the parrot had a bad night, so did Carl.

Field based training

So we just came back from field based training. I encourage you all to consult Matt Ladd's blog which is linked on the right and see if he has put anything up about it because he had a very interesting experience of it. I am not going to steal his thunder, and most likely he'll have some funny account of it.

As for me and the trainees that went with me, we had a reasonably uneventful time by comparison, but memorable and pleasant by all regards. We went to Jayaque which is high up in the hills and as such has a wonderfully mild climate. Not too many bugs, a nice breeze and never too hot compared to the rest of the country. Beatiful views and nice people as well, perhaps the only fault is that the town itself is one big hill and you always seem to be walking uphill no matter where you are going.

We got acquainted with the town, met our families and picked up trash with a group from the school the first day. It was cool to see the kids get involved, but upon buying some goods, I was disappointed to see some of the kids throw their trash on the ground after we had spent over an hour picking up countless bags worth of trash off the ground and one of the students had given an impromptu chat about why littering is bad. So much for work and information inspiring a change in behavior. I think some of them got it, but honestly I think that eventhough they all seem to know the repurcussions, they still don't really care. Unfortunate indeed, we have our work cut out for us.

The second day was uneventful, we painted a basketball court with some motivated kids. Hard, good work, but not much to say about it. I got paint all over my hands and shoes.

The third day was charla day. Two seperate two hour charlas can really wear a person out. Thank god that we were giving them in teams, I would have wanted to shoot myself if I had to do that alone. The first charla went really well. The little kids ate up our dinamicas and they loved Whitney because she knew so many fun games. Will and I would have been a little lost without her, so thank you Whitney, you saved us from failure. Speaking of failure, the second charla didn't go as spectacularly well. Will got sick and left, which meant we had to do his part without prep. Additionally we had prepared a charla for older kids and then we were presented with a slew of kids from 1st to 9th grade. Let me tell you that giving a mixed age charla is not fun, half the group is always either confused or bored. Luckily the other half is usually somewhat engaged. Our facilitator ensured us that we did a good job given the circumstances, but I think it was a bit of a failure on a whole. Can't win 'em all though. At least I know what its like now.

Today we hiked up close to the peak of the mountain that Jayaque is on. Beautiful views, I love hikes for that reason. I could have done without all the spider webs though. I did enjoy myself though. Its interesting to hike through coffee fincas and see some of the families living in shacks that are clearly there to work the land at rock bottom prices. I felt sorta bad for them being so removed from the town and living in such shacks. I have a better idea of what it must have been like when coffee was the dominant export here. I don't know that life is any better for the people in the fincas, but at least its not everyone's life here anymore.

I forgot about this one...

So for a little while I forgot to mention the duck man. I call him the duck man because he had some strange obsession with ducks... but I'll explain that a little later. When we were in San Sebastian buying hammocks we were approached by an obviously poor old man who came to beg us for a little change. We assured him that we had only what we needed for the bus home, but he wasn't dissuaded, he wanted to talk to us instead once he found out the gringos could speak spanish.

Angela somehow let slip that she was from Australia, which prompted this man to begin a series of unintelligle questions about the rights and abilities in the land down under. Of them all I only understood one, and I was the only person that understood it. It seems he desperately wanted to know if you could marry a duck in Australia. This seemed strange to me, so I didn't let on that I knew what he was asking about and just feigned ignorance with the rest. But this was his most important question so he began to motion like a duck and repeat the question over and over. Finally when thoroughly exhausted of that he decided to sing me a song since I seemed to understand him the best.

It was while he was singing to me that he touched my knee and I got a whiff of his breath. Suddenly all I could think of was furiously washing my knee and face. I didn't mean it in any bad way, it was just all my mind was transfixed on at the time because I didn't want to be talking to him, much less serenaded by him.

It wasn't until after the whole sordid and filthy affair that I discovered a little something about marrying ducks... apparently the word for marriage and hunting are very similar in spanish. Casar is to marry and cazar is to hunt, subtle but important difference. I choose to believe it was his lack of a front tooth that forced his Z's into sounding like S's. So but for the grace of one tooth we might have had a nice talk about hunting ducks instead of marrying ducks and being serenaded.

Ok, time for random stuff

Since I am waiting for photos to upload and I have nothing better to do in the mean time I will recount many true and possibly amusing events that have taken place during my time here so far.

First and foremost I believe there is a Salvadoran man conducting some sort of Jean racketeering scam out of one of the back bedrooms of our house. I am not sure how this works, but I can assure you he is there and believes he is making money. The scam seems to consist of walking to the back of the house, rummaging through a few bins of jeans wrapped in plastic, making all sorts of noise, but making no discernable progress in all of his sorting. No customers ever come or go and he never leaves with any jeans, nor does he ever come with any. Once or twice he has asked me if I needed jeans, but I declined the invite to join his little scheme. I've also spied him discussing the finer points of selling pants with Don Fabio, but I think he isn't taking Fabio's advice, because the jeans just get sorted and never sold.

I've had the pleasure of being part of many an awkward social gathering and seen many an awkward event. So many in fact that I've considered starting a journal solely composed of these moments because they occur so frequently that they soon escape my memory. Once such example is being invited to lunch at the house of one of our community member's secret boyfriend with her mother. ( I should add that we have met him, but the mother hasn't) If that isn't awkward enough I had the good fortune of spying a cat popping a squat and proceeding to heave and huff at the labor of relieving himself of yesterday's food. This is the sort of thing that once you catch it, you can't take your eye off it.

Yet another day I had the fortune of getting a bacterial infection. This isn't awkward per se, but the effects are. For example, running to the bathroom and nearly not making it, running the risk of soiling yourself with every step, not fun. Additionally, in order to confirm the infection you have to put a "sample" in a very small cup. Needless to say this is difficult when you've all but lost control of all functions related to your bowels. One must also deliver the sample in a timely manner, which can be a fun hike while sick.

Immersion Days etc.

I just got back from what is called Immersion Days and while I was somewhat apprehensive about the experience at first, the reality is entirely different.

Let me start by describing the activity briefly. Each trainee is assigned to a volunteer that is currently serving and that volunteer finds a place for the trainee to stay in a canton close to where the live. The volunteer then shares some information about how to get to the assigned community and from there it is the responsibility of the trainee to get there by bus or other indicated means of transportation. After that, the trainee stays in the appointed community for two days by himself and the third day meets with the volunteer and stays with him for a day.

That all sounds rather scary on paper. But the reality of it is that it wasn't all that bad. We have all already struck out once to places unfamiliar to us and to live with people unfamiliar with us when we moved to our host communities. This time the experience was tempered by the fact that if something happened, we weren't staying there long term.

The place where I stayed was a rather quiet little canton in La Union, the self proclaimed hottest department in El Salvador. I'd say that it is absolutely true. It borders on oppressively hot there in the middle of the day. I stayed in the house of a man named Ismael, was led around town by my primary contact named Efraim and ate at yet another house of a woman named Ophelia. This all added up to quite a bit of walking around during the heat of the day. It also meant that since I was viewed as more of a communal visitor and not anyone in particular's sole responsibility. That meant when the three people mentioned had something to do, I was either left alone to read Roughing It by Mark Twain or was left to the mercy of anyone who happened to stop by. More often than not a young boy stopped by to watch what Bryan Dwyer calls "gringo TV". This consisted mainly of sidling up next to me and staring at me with a slight tilt of the head and a slack-jaw. This also consisted of the young boy resisting any and all attempts I made to talk to him in favor of just staring at me slack-jawed. I'm sure that is the preferred "gringoTV" position in many a canton.

I also had the pleasure of being shown the "zona verde" no less than three times by different people. They are very proud of this little public swatch of land that has a few trees, some sickly grass and a few "nacimientos" where water collects from the stream and can be used to wash clothes, clean dishes or bathe in. I took in the spectacle humbly every time and commented on how nice the shade is if you want to go down to the river and bathe. Good thing I saw it all though, because the following morning I needed to use my new knowledge and go and bathe in the stream. I'm sure this was a sight because all the women doing washing of any sort stopped and just watched me take a bucket bath. I assume I did everything correctly, but I can't be sure really. Enough of that though, afterwards I had the privilege of staying at Nate Dollar's house, which is a mansion by volunteer standards. I got to stay with him for about 18 hours. After that we departed in the morning for San Salvador.

In the capital the Embassy was putting on a sort of pre July 4th celebration. Peace Corps is invited to attend at a reduced fee, so volunteers and trainees alike show up in droves. It was good to spend some quality time with Americans, speak english and most importantly get a few beers for $1 a piece. The whole affair didn't last that long though since our rides back to our host communities showed up after a short time. Most trainees didn't like leaving, and so decided to stay, but I didn't want to tempt fate or my shaky stomach and decided to go back to Santo Domingo for a good nights sleep and some purified water.