The earth is moving but the buses are not

As long as we are talking about buses… The big news in El Salvador this week is that the buses held a 24-hour protest strike Wednesday. Here’s the problem in a nutshell:

Gas is at an average of $4.15 a gallon here. The bus tariffs are regulated by the government and have held steady at $0.25. The bus companies have been paying more and more in gas, but unable to legally raise tariffs. The government is hesitant to allow the raise in tariffs because* if they were to do so it could be held up as another indicator that the cost of living is rising exponentially faster than wages. (To put things into perspective, the cost of the Basic Food Basket** in El Salvador is reported at $139.40/month. The average Maquila (Factory) worker makes $151.20/month.) If that conclusion were to be drawn, there are some that would suggest that the recent minimum wage increase of $5 per month was not sufficient. And if pay increases are brought up, there is sure to be reference made to the $1,800/month pay increase approved by the legislators for the legislators. It seems that the official plan of action was to close eyes, cover ears and sing “LaLaLaLaLa, I can’t hear you, LaLaLaLaLa.” So Wednesday, approximately 95% of the bus did not run in an effort to get some attention. (Here's a great picture for as long as the link works.)

Other events this week, Tuesday we experienced a minor earthquake. Coming from Colorado, I really have very little perspective about what exactly constitutes a “minor” earthquake. I haven’t seen any reports of magnitude so I will classify it like this; it lasted long enough that I thought “whoa, it’s still going” and strong enough that it made my doors rattle, but was not enough to knock things off of walls or for me to seek shelter. In conversing with Salvadorans it was officially classified as “kinda strong.” Just a quick reminder that, apart from all the social disorder that Salvador is privy to, it is also one of the most seismically vulnerable areas in the world.***

* the “because” part is an original Kelley Theory, part political, part psycho-social analysis conducted exclusively by your’s truly. May require grain of salt.

**The Basic Food Basket is the estimated cost of the food items (bread, tortilla, rice, meat, oils/fats, eggs, milk, fruits/vegetables, and sugar) required for a family of four to meet their basic nutritional needs. The Basic Food Basket does not include other living expenses such as transportation, shelter, electricity, education, clothing, and health. These items are included in the Market Basket and areestimated currently at $669.60/month.

***Source: Oscar Sorrenson, Husband of Heather and volcanologist.

Watch your step... Cow Parade coming through

I had to make a run for the border to renew my visa. I left Savador Thursday morning at 3 am and got into San Jose about midnight. The trip has kinda been a blur of seeing as many people as I can. I definately did not get to see everyone I wanted to, but had a great time with those that I did.

It is kinda strange to be back. There have actually been quite a few changes here in the last 6 months. There have been some major infrastructural developments in the center in that they have closed off more streets for pedestrian sidewalks, they are "cleaning" up the Central Market. It is definately becoming more and more of a tourist attraction. One one hand, it is nice, on the other hand it feels sterile and packaged. It may be that my perspective is changed from having been in Salvador for the past six months, but it is nearly impossible to believe that Costa Rica and El Salvador are lumped together in the same region, they don't seem to come from the same planet.

For example, there was a "Cow Parade" in the center, which basically consisted of lots of life-sized cow sculptures strewn about Avenida Central. They were cool looking. One group took advantage of the crowds and staged a "Don't eat meat" protest in front of McDonalds. It kinda made me chuckle.. in Salvador, when there are protests about food, it is because the people don't have to eat, not because they are not eating the right things. It is a good indicator of the difference in development.

Another HUGE adjustment is that the Bulevard is no more. At least not in the way that we PCVs came to know and love it. It changed ownership a couple of days before I left. It is closed right now for renovations. They are going to turn it into a casino. So, the days of PCV debauchery will be replaced with gringo gamblers and tica prostitutes. Ho hum...

I am back on King Quality tomorrow morning. Back in El Savador after just 20 some hours in a bus. ;)

Public Transport a la Guanaca

Empty bus (a rare sighting)...

I thought it was about time that I dedicated a posting to the buses in El Salvador. I will dedicate this post to Maxito because I think I drug him onto nearly every bus that Salvador offers. In order to keep things in perspective, I will mention this. Costa Rica, for all it's faults and frustrations, has an AMAZING bus system. Quirky at times, but overall you can get pretty much anywhere in the country in relative (relative) comfort. "Comfort" is not a word that is often used when describing buses in El Salvador.

There are three types of buses here. The bus (pronounced boos), which is generally a modified Bluebird School bus. "Modified" meaning that rails run down each side of the aisle so that passengers standing have something to hold onto. A turnstile was also installed in the front of the bus to count passengers for some sort of accounting purposes. The turnstile is pretty self-explanitory with two exceptions; peddler and panhandlers are allowed to crawl over the top of the turnstyle and are not charged the fare. The general rule for children is that if they can be carried or if they fit into the turnstile with their parent, they are not charged. I have seen many a child's eyes bulge as they are squished between mom and the turnstile. I have also noticed that the cutoff seems to have less to do with the child's age than mom's dimensions.

The normal carrying capacity on the average school bus is posted at 77. A Salvadoran will see your 77 and raise you infinity. I have never, ever seen anyone denied passage on a bus because it was too full. There is always room for three more. Surprisingly, there is always also just enough room for the fare collector to shimmy through the aisle collecting fares. If things get a little squishy, there is always the option of opening up the back door and hanging off the back bumper or luggage ladder to alleviate pressures inside. When Max and I rode to the beach we did not get on early enough to get a seat so we stood. Not wholly awful when the bus was moving, but it was Semana Santa and everyone was headed to the beach, so we ended up sitting, (er... "standing") in traffic for about an hour. Much like sardines in a tin can under a heat lamp. (I feel it is important to add here that school buses are generally designed for, well, school-aged children. This is not a problem for many, many Salvadorans, but for 5'9" gringas... well whether the bus is full or not, I generally look like Adam Sandler on the movie cover of Billy Madison. )

Nearly full bus...

The second type of public transportation is the busseta (boos-etta). Bussetas are the ones with fins. They are decked out to the nines in the personal style of the driver. They are often fitted with a sound system that will pump out reggae-ton at 8 decibels. There are racing stripes, airbrushed murals, even black lights. I thought of proposing to Mtv that they start a Latin American spin-off series called "Pimp My Bus." I think it would be a big hit. The main advantage of the busseta is that they go really really fast. They dart in and out of traffic. This is less fun if you are hanging out of the door (see Dec 10 entry) but I gotta say, I kinda dig it. It's just like a roller coaster, only without the killjoy safety standards.

Last, but not least, is the mini-bus (meeny-boos). This is a clear example of a situation in which if you didn't speak Spanish you would think that you know what is being talked about but still be wrong. Mini-van would be a more appropriate translation. Modified mini-van of course. In this case, there were modified by taking out the standard two rows of seating and putting in three facing forward and one half bench thing facing backward directly behind the driver and front seat leaving nearly 2inches of leg room between the bench and the first back seat. The mini-buses drive much like the bussettas, careening in and out of traffic, passing on double yellow lines on curving mountain roads, slowing to a near stop to let passengers on and off.

For example, I had to catch the bus from Planes de Renderos back to the city center. So, I see the mini-bus coming, I flag it down and as it nears I am asking "Al Centro?/To the Center?" (I can ask before they actually get to me one, because the fair collector is hanging out of the window and can hear me before he gets to me, and two, because they won't stop, they just slow so I gotta ask early.) So the mini-bus slows, I jump in and, too late, I realize that there is no room. Well, that's a lie, technically there was room. I was able to croutch on the floorboard just inside the van. There was no shutting the door, so I found myself clinging to a small girl in her school uniform as I fought centrifugal force* from tossing me onto the roadside. There is always, always room for one more. (I counted, there were 24 of us in that mini-van, not including small children sitting on laps.)

My last commentary on Salvadoran public transport will be to mention the sheer number of buses, bussetas and mini-buses that run these streets. Remember, this is the most densely populated country in the Western Hemisphere, and as most of those people are very, very poor, only a very small percent of the population can afford a private car. Meaning that there are hundreds of buses that run in and out and around San Salvador. They are all numbered. For example, lines that run near my house are: buses 30, 30-B, 44, 9, 26, 46, 22; busettas 44, 9 and mini-bus 30-A. You may have noticed some repeats, that is a little something that keeps you on your toes, just because a bus and a busetta have the same route number, does not mean that they run the same route, they are sometimes/often/always drastically different.

Well, I guess that's enough of a rundown on Salvadoran transport. I will mention that although the system is much less comfortable than Costa Rica, I have heard that it is much better than other places like Guatamala. I will refer to Alicia on this one. From what I understand it is similar, only that the buses are ALWAYS squishy and involve significantly more livestock, you know, the quintessential chicken bus. It's all about perspective.

*Glossary:
Centrifugal Force is a scientific term used to describe the phenomenon that hurls passengers out of buses, bussetas and mini-buses.)

El Chelito del Mar

Semana Santa is done and it's back to work. Too soon I say, I can really never get enough vacation time in. But, I guess I will just have to suffer through til I go to Costa Rica in April to renew my visa. :)

My buddy Max came up from Costa Rica to hang. He got here about 1 am Tue morning, just in time to commemorate St. Patty's day at the local Irish Pub. No Guinness or green beer, but there was Jameson whiskey. Tuesday we did the market tour. We started out in the center, checking out the venders and street market. It's a great introduction to the contrast that is El Salvador. The center; dirty, gritty, vibrant, loud. The unofficial economy of El Salvador. Tons and tons of people selling pretty much anything imaginable from make-shift kiosks of ply-wood and black plastic tarps. Then we go to La Gran Via, the other extreme. Dozens of people wandering around an air conditioned multi-complex flashing name brands like LaCost, Tommy Hilfiger, Ferrari, Nine West, (Yep.... I said "Ferrari," there is actually a Ferrari dealership.) Who buys these name brands you might ask? Well, the answer is simple, very, very few people. The word on the street is that the interest is not necessarily in selling goods, but in the appearance of selling goods. You know wink, wink, nudge, nudge, get your money "cleaned" here. Anyway, it is a great place to sit and sip a $5 coffee while gazing out of the shiny mall at the tin shacks and naked, hungry children living in the median of the highway. That’s El Salvador.

Max being the most chelito, machito, whitey, white, white kid was, let’s say, “noticed.” I don’t by any means blend. I am what I like to call a “Ten paces Gringa,” meaning that to anyone within ten paces of me, it’s pretty obvious that I am a gringa. Max, well, I think Max can be tagged from space. There was some staring. We were on the bus headed to the beach and the kid sitting next to Max had the following conversation with his dad:


“Dad, what is that?”
“He’s a North American. He’s going to the beach”
“Can it swim.”
“Yes, he can swim.”
“Does it come from the sea?”
“No, he comes from a far away country.”
“But, Dad… what is it?”

On Friday, Good Friday that is, we went to the center to see the alfombras. Alfombras are the Holy Week tradition wherein people make amazing, elaborate drawings in salt in the streets. Then later, a procession comes through and blesses each of the alfombras and the drawings become trampled. They are a very beautiful, but a very temporary art. We walked around, checked stuff out, went into a super cool cathedral. It looks like a run down, abandoned bus station from the outside, but the inside is an amazing stained glass kaleidoscope. Then we grabbed Churros, a cup of coffee, sat on the Metropolitan Cathedral steps and people watched. This experience will from here on out be referred to as “best cafecito ever.” So yes, it was a good Friday.

So Max caught the bus back to Ticolandia this morning at 3 am. Overall, it was a very good, very chill week. I feel rejuvenated and I think I can make it through the next two weeks of work.

Tico Justice

I just got an update on the guy that mugged me over a year ago in Costa Rica.

Unfortunately, the update is NOT that my case will finally be heard in court. The update is the the same crackhead piece of s*#@ that mugged me, just mugged the volunteer that took my place.

Grrrrrrrrrrrr...............

Yet another event that reminds me that I am a woman of peace by choice and not by nature.

Rutilio Grande

Wednesday March 12 marked 31 years since the assassination of Father Rutilio Grande by the Salvadoran National Guard. Grande served in the parish of Los Aguilares, a town about 40 minutes Northwest of San Salvador. His interpretation of Liberation Theology inspired him to work toward creating Christian Communities that organize themselves to address their basic needs. His work, as well as his tendency to speak out against the injustices being committed by the government and social elite led to his death. On March 12, 1977, he was traveling with other Salvadorans in his car when they were gunned down by the Salvadoran National Guard. Rutilio, and two of his companions, Manual Solorzano, 72, and Nelson Rutilio Lemus, 16 were killed. Two other children traveling with the group were able to escape. (His assassination is depicted in the movie Romero with Raul Julia)
Rutilio Grande is significant in the story of El Salvador not only for preaching liberation theology and speaking out against the injustices being committed by the Salvadoran Government, but because he was the first (not the last) church official to be assassinated by that same government. His death has also gained the most notoriety as the act which “converted” Archbishop Oscar Romero to the side of the poor and liberation theology. Upon Rutilio’s death, Romero decreed that he would not perform a state function until the deaths were investigated. They never were and he never did. Three years later, Archbishop Romero would also be assassinated.

I went to the festivities with two of my co-workers, Erin and Danny. I found out on the way there that we would be participating in a pilgrimage between Aguilares and El Paisnal (where he is burried). Luckily, I had on decent walking shoes; unluckily, I did not have sunscreen and ended up a little pink. The total distance was only about 4k, I didn’t get to walk all of it because we had the SHARE vehicle and had to get it to El Paisnal so that we could get home later in the day.

The walk was actually quite pleasant. I always get excited at any opportunity to get out of the city and breathe air that is not filtered through exhaust fumes. Although much of the land is looking to be subdivided and developed, it is still primarily farm and ranch country complete with cows and chickens. I would guess that most of the participants were connected to one social organization or another. There was also a significant presence of gringo delegations. As is true with absolutely everything in El Salvador, there were political overtones made most notable by one man who walked through the march in the opposite direction holding an ARENA (far right party) card against his chest and a severe look upon his face. Most people just chuckled at him as he passed.

Anyway, about half way, I switched with Erin so that she could participate in the walk. We went to the mass and then hung out in the afternoon. We were leaving just as they were setting up for the Mario Funes speech. Mario Funes is the presidential candidate for the FMLN (left political party). I have a total political crush on him. He is a journalist. He is intelligent and critical and most importantly a step toward the middle. He is a sign of great hope for this bitterly divided country. He is stirring things up, to say the least. Things need to be stirred up, but the powers that be are not ones to step down without a fight. One of the fun tactics being used is that any time any foreigners attend a campaign speech, they end up with their faces across the far right leaning media outlets as proof that the FMLN is being run by foreign interests. Hence, Mario Funes coming, us leaving. This is about the third time that I have been SO close to getting to hear him speak but having to leave. I hope someone somewhere is appreciating the sacrifice.

No Rest for the Wicked

Street vendors in Santa Ana.

I survived the delegations.

I sent the Weston Jesuit students back to Boston early Saturday morning. It was actually a really great delegation, but I am utterly, completely, soul tired. I took Monday off (sort of) but it doesn’t seem to be enough.

I have to say, though, that I am more than happy with how the delegation turned out. We were able to facilitate some really interesting conversations between the delegation students and Salvadoran students and seminarians. It was really cool and very interesting how much they had in common. It was also great to watch both sets of students reflect and learn about their own culture as they explained it to one another. The experience was pretty diverse as we attended Catholic, Baptist and Lutheran sites. The Sunday they were here, we attended a Baptist service in the morning and a Catholic mass in the afternoon. To say the least, that is a lot more church time than I have put in since…. well, ever. There was no bursting into flames, so I guess I am doing better than I thought I was. :)

Marta and me

We also visited a community of sisters that are kinda like nuns except that they function outside of the church. They were all ready to take their vows, but at the time the only jobs available for women inside the church were a) nursing, which didn’t spark their interest, and b) teaching (specifically to the children of the aristocracy). They chose c) none of the above and began working with the people in the poorest communities. Rebel nuns… they are SO cool.

We were also able to meet with the Lutheran Bishop, Medardo Gomez. He is absolutely one of my favorite people on the planet. I put him right up there with Thich Nhat Hahn in that merely looking at him feels like a hug. I know him outside of the delegations through attending meetings he has been hosting for social organizations to organize themselves in response to the current political environment and discussion. He is the absolute embodiment of peace and inclusion. He seemed to communicate with his presence what so many others waste thousands of words trying to say.

The group with Medardo Gomez, Lutheran Bishop of El Salvador and pervader of peace and wellbeing

The group was also amazingly gracious in being patient with me as I stumbled through my first delegation and translation. Luckily, I got some help when my church vocab waned. (Primarily due to the fact that there are a lot of churchy words I don’t know in any language.) I met my soul-sister, or as I like to refer to him, “what I would be like if I were a gay man.” I also got to hang out with a ranch kid from Montana who reminded me of home like I haven’t known since I left Carbdondale. Anyway, it was a neat trip and has left me lots of thoughts to ponder.

Woman and her Child in La Joya, Atikizayah

So now, I am looking forward to finishing up this week and heading into Semana Santa (Holy Week) next week and getting a little rest. My buddy Max, a PCV from Costa Rica will be coming up to hang. Carlos, Gloria and la mara are already planning a fishing trip and concert series. It should be fun. I just don’t know when that whole resting thing will happen.

Delegation Delirium

I have just a few moments before I head out to meet my first official delegation at the airport. This one is all mine, all the glory and all the blame. I think I am actually ready for them. Well, as ready as I can be.

Big news in the household, we finally got our third roommate. Gloria's little brother Mario moved in last week. He is beginning his first year of college at the National University which is within walking distance of the house, so that's pretty convenient for him. He is studying Civil Engineering. As often happens, I think he is a little overwhelmed by big city life, and being "on his own" for the first time. I think he is also bored out of his mind. I haven't been around all that much and don't seem to be very entertaining when I am. But he and Armando get together, watch cartoons and play video games. We're a pretty exciting bunch.

Other than that, besides work, there is not a whole lot to report. I will be crazy busy for the next week and then I am treating myself to an overnight at the beach. Can't wait!

Quick Breather

We made it through the wedding. It was a lot of fun. I am trying to get some more pictures uploaded through Kodak, but am having technical problems, so hopefully those will get worked out. The ceremony and reception was in La Nueva Concepcion, Gloria's hometown. My friend Kathy and her brother John flew in from San Francisco for the festivities.
Here's some pictures....

Gloria and Carlos

Me and Kathy

Dance Part-ay!

Kathy a la Carnival

Carlos, Raul, Kathy, Me, John, Paola, and Ileana

Afterwards, we, La Mara, continued with the festivities in La Palma. More pics from the after party....

Gloria in traditional post-wedding, pick-up truck ride home

Me and Kathy

La Mara at the Cabins in La Palma

Nadia, Kathy, me, Carlos, John
Armando

Directly after the wedding, a delegation arrived from Oregon of 25 high school kids. I spent the first three days with them, working 12+ hours a day until about 2 am Thursday morning when my body said "ENOUGH!" and began violently expelling fluids. So to say the least, I have not made it to work the last two days but am hoping to be able to join the delegation again this afternoon or first thing tomorrow morning. This delegation leaves on next Friday and then I have about 5 busy days (one of those actually a non-work day) before my delegation arrives on the 28th. Followed shortly, I'm certain, by some sort of collapse.

Catch up

It has been quite a while since I wrote. I have been on quite a roller coaster lately and have had a hard time motivating myself to post. I will try to do better.

I lost my Grandma Sefcovic. She passed away at age 90 in Grand Junction, CO. She was an amazing and strong woman, much more so than I think she was given credit for in her life. I think I received from her the notion that you don't have to settle for the life you were born into. I will miss her terribly.

On the other end of the coaster, Carlos and Gloria are getting married this weekend so I have been up to my elbows in the pre-wedding festivities and preparations. We went out last week for Gloria's bachelorette party and I must say I blushed more than once. I am finding out that contrary to popular belief, we Gringos come from quite a prudish culture. My friend Kathy arrives Thursday night, so I am excited to hang out with her. It looks to be a very big, very fun party.

Work-wise, I am preparing for the arrival of my first official delegation. They will be coming from Weston Jesuit in Boston and get here the end of February. I am helping out with a youth delegation beginning next Monday, so that will be my trial run. I find myself running quite a bit trying to get prepared for this. It looks to be a great experience for the delegates so I hope I can pull through with the details.

I would also like to take a moment to welcome Rob back to Central America. He was a fellow Costa Rica PCV that is now working in an Orphanage for HIV positive kids in Honduras. We're neighbors! That's all for now.

Hello 2008

My New Year's was wonderfully mellow. Dara, Byron and I watched some movies and stayed up just into the new year. That's right, we are cold hard rocking machines. :) We went to Rocky Mountain National Park on New Year's Day. The idea was that we would go sledding, but the wind was blowing so hard and it was SO VERY COLD, that we only made about three runs and then scurried back to the car. We didn't end up being able to snowshoe as said wind blew said snow away. We did make it to the aquarium and I was able to take a picture of Jack underwater:


(Yes... I did finally get the camera situation resolved so photos should begin flowing again.)

I flew back to El Salvador this weekend on a red-eye from Denver to LA to Salvador. Not my favorite way to fly, but it got me here. Two interesting stories though....

On the first leg of the flight between Denver and LA, as we were getting ready to close the door on the plane, the steward announced over the loudspeaker that "A woman, possibly by the name of Susan, grabbed the wrong bag as she was leaving the Mile High Club." I am sure that he mis-spoke and meant the Red Carpet Club, or whatever it is called. But, I think he blew whatever chances there were of someone fessing up to the mix-up.

I had about 20 minutes between flight one and flight two. It was so close, in fact, that the airline figured I wouldn't make it and gave away my seat. This was a little disappointing as my original seat was a window seat in the exit row and my new seat was the middle seat in the knee-squisher row. I would have been really bitter except that I was hoping the sacrifice would warrant all my luggage arriving with me in San Salvador. Also, the kid that got my good seat was a trombone player in the Salvadoran High School band that had traveled to LA to march in the Parade of Roses. There were about 20 of them on my flight and they were incredibly sweet. They were so excited.... all perma-grinned and snapping pictures of EVERYTHING. The plane, the stewards, the wings, the upright seats and tray tables. Most of the kids come from Salvador's lowest-resourced communities and were sponsored primarily by Salvadorans living in the LA area. (LA and Washington, DC are the two cities with the highest concentration of Salvadoran in the US.) It was the kids' first time in an airplane as they had to travel in bus on the way there. They ran into all sorts of problems on the bus and finally the "powers that be" on the Salvadoran side pony'ed-up and chipped in on plane tickets. Anyway, I moved so the kid could be with his friends.... in my seat.

So I, and my luggage (yay!) made it back and found that a panel of tile had relocated while I was away. Apparently there was a windy, cold-front while I was gone and the tile over my garage decided to go elsewhere. At least it was the garage. So I spend all day Monday clearing my house of dust and ash. Monday night I had friends over for a traditional meatloaf and mashed potatoes dinner. (Big hit!) Then this morning I was back to work.

Last post of 2007

I have survived a US Christmas. As many of you may or may not know, I am in the States for the holiday season. The trip was a precursor to a work trip that was to be in Toronto Canada, but that ended up being canceled, and is now, a home for the holidays visit. It is great to see friends and family, but I admit that the US holiday season madness is more than a little over-whelming. That's all I'm gonna say about that besides my traditional Christmas "Bah-Humbug."

I spent the first week and a half doing the shuffle on the Western Slope of Colorado. I gotta say... it is COLD! I have definitely turned into a class A light-weight when it comes to cold. In Salvador, if it dips below 70 I start putting clothes on. Needless to say, it is significantly below 70. That and a distinct lack of (public) transportation feels very confining. Lots of time indoors. I do get to see snow though. That is good. There is really no point in being cold if I am not going to at least see some snow. We are going to go snow-shoeing this week so I am looking forward to that.

I have made pupusas for the fam and they have gone over well. Not too bad for a gringa if I do say so myself, although it helps that there is no previous pupusa experience for comparison. So I can say with confidence, that they were the best pupusas they have ever eaten. :)

I am headed back to Salvador on Saturday. It has been a good trip. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time with friends and fam although there are too many that I have missed this time around. For those of you on the "missed list" I apologize and assure you that it is not a reflection of your importance to me, but the fault of the age old adage that there is just never enough time in one lifetime. Hope you all have the Happiest of New Years.

See you in 2008!

Birds of Flight

Anyone flying out of El Salvador will immediately notice one very Salvadoran tradition. No... it's not the multiple security check points and body cavity search. Each departing flight out of El Salvador smells like chicken. Not just any chicken, Pollo Campero. Campero is a fried chicken chain that is actually Guatamalan but is practically a sacred ritual in El Salvador. Salvadorans swear that the best chicken is Campero chicken and only in El Salvador. Tico Campero does not stack up. It is rumored that even in Guatamala, the chicken is not as good as it is in El Salvador. There are even a couple of restaurants in the US, in LA and DC where there are large populations of Salvadorans, but they still don't compare to authentic Salvadoran Campero chicken. So.... whenever Salvadorans fly, so does Pollo Campero. At least a dozen people on every plane are transporting boxes of chicken to their salivating relations on the US side giving Salvadoran flights a truly unique flavor.

Living on the edge...

Two big developments in Kelley’s transportation world.

First of all, I got to drive!!!!! I had my first sola excursion on Salvadoran Highways last Thursday when I went to a meeting in the Southeastern part of San Salvador. I went in the SHARE vehicle all by my lonesome. Things went much smoother than expected thanks to Google maps and satellite imagery. I went straight there and realized that I over-compensated for traffic as I was a full hour early for my meeting. So, I did a little more exploring. I had forgotten how much I like to drive. It is even more fun here since the traffic laws are much like the pirate code… more like “suggestions” than “laws.”

On Saturday, I had to go to another meeting which required taking a new bus. Well, it was a mini-bus to be exact. Mini-buses are interesting because, although you can’t tell by looking, they can accommodate just about as many people as is recommended for a regular-sized bus. This is accomplished by implementing a physics-defying mechanism commonly known as “the clown-car technique” in which large numbers of people are magically stuffed into small spaces. The best mini-buses brandish shark-fins and black lighting while pumping loud music and require two operating personnel. One, the driver, whose job it is to drive as fast as possible occasionally slowing just enough for passengers to scamper on and off. The second is an ayudante or “helper” that collects fairs, calls out the stops and whose legs fly out perpendicular to the bus on highway curves.

I arrived at my meeting without problems. On the way back, the mini-bus was a little crowded, which means that I was left standing in the doorway with the ayudante. I've gotta say that as I watched the asphalt blur by just inches from my toes, I was kinda psyched. I felt all the rebelliousness that comes with violating traffic laws and safety bulletins. I was living life on the edge…. of a mini-bus. Then we took the on-ramp at mach-ten and the centrifugal force bent my body backwards into a perfect C-curve with my fingers white-knuckling the handrail on the ceiling and my toe-nails scraping through my shoes desperately trying to maintain contact with the steps. At the next stop, when a man chivalrously offered to trade spaces with me, there was absolutely no feminist indignationn as I squickly moved into the inner sanctuary of the clown car.

In another tale, of what is looking to be a theme, I didn’t have water Sunday morning. As I have previously mentioned, I don’t always have running water, but I generally do in the mornings. Not having water Sunday morning was major inconvenience in that I had been planning to do some laundry. (In a quick aside, my washer had been down with a clogged pump. Apparently the previous owners had been using the tub and agitator to mix cement.) Normally, when you don’t have consistent running water you either install a cistern, which is basically a big tank that stores water and pumps it into your house so that you don’t notice that you don’t have constantly running water, or you fill barrels and pilas (deep cement sinks) with water and dip from them. The house doesn’t have a cistern and they are difficult and expensive to install. We haven’t gotten around to buying barrels yet. I have a pila, but took for granted that I would have water Sunday morning and didn’t fill it. So I was really without water. No cleaning of the house; bummer. No cleaning of myself? Well, after having done a hearty 40+ minute run; intolerable. I eventually ended up locking all the doors and taking a bucket bath in my laundry room with the little water that was left in the pila. Time to buy a barrel.

Hanging with la Mara

It’s been a bit since I last wrote. I have a good excuse though.. I all of a sudden got a raging social life!!! Yahoo!!! Another big difference between here and Costa Rica.

We inaugurated the house last Saturday night. I invited over a few friends, I had a grad total of four at that point, and made hummus and falafal. Both turned out quite well I might add. One thing led to another and I think there had to have been at least, at least 10 people at my house. Get back! So, the next thing I know, it’s 7:30 am and I am somehow (I’m not completely sure I am awake at this point) getting myself out of bed and heading to the beach. YEA!!!!

We were all going to go to San Blas with Hugo’s family, but it ended up that of the party attendees only Hugo (friend of a friend I met the night before) and I made it up the next morning. I accomplished this huge feat primarily because I didn’t know there was an option to back out and sleep in. So I end up in a mini-van with a group of people, all but one of whom were complete strangers. We went to a rancho, which is a house by the beach, which people generally rent out for the day. The current, pretty much everywhere in El Salvador is “carry you off to sea” strong, so I didn’t swim a whole bunch. The waves however are amazing for watching. They are famed to be great for surfing as well as long as you don’t end up being “carried off to sea.” Not a beginners beach is what I am trying to say. Anyway, had a great day, even if I was a little (ha!) tired. I made ANOTHER new friend, Lupita, who works for the Office of International Labor at the UN. The rest of the group consisted of amazing nice people that welcomed me immediately and acted like my beach party crashing hadn’t imposed on them in the least. In fact, they promised to include me in future excursions. We stopped for pupusas on the way home to round out the day.

The most amazing, and BEST part of the weekend was that Sunday night when I got home, the roomie, Armando, had cleaned up after the party that I threw. AMAZING! He gets the “Best Roommate of the Year Award.” Pretty much blew Necio out of the water on that one. (That cat never cleaned a dish in his life.)

Anyway, the rest of the week has been a rush of work and a little afterwork hanging with la mara. "Mara" in this sense meaning “gang” but not in the “pandilla, lets get tattoos and pillage” sense. Tattoos are completely optional.

In the area of immigration difficulties, my co-worker Erin is being kicked out of the country to renew her visa. Not that unusual, except for the fact that she is married to a Salvadoran for the past 3 years. I only mention this to put to rest any fears that I will be marrying for residency. It really wouldn’t help and I am not all that opposed to getting a vacation every three months.

The Land of Plenty

So I thought I would point out some of the bigger differences between El Salvador and Costa Rica. Some personal, some general social observations. The social ones needing to be taken with a grain of salt as I am shamelessly going to make sweeping generalizations.

It is pretty safe to say that Costa Rica is more developed. I have jokingly referred to it as Third World “light”. When I say “more developed”, it is not necessarily just because it is less poor or has more conveniences. It is a little more complicated than that. Costa Rica still hosts some breathtakingly poor populations, they are just better hidden. Tourists don’t want to see that. Also, they have had a peaceful, relatively functional democracy for many years. There is effort being made, granted it is made on Tico Time, but they are getting there.

El Salvador is much more raw and the government barely feigns consideration for the poor masses. Luxury wise, they have everything, if not more than, Costa Rica has. Major shopping centers, better highways, amazingly luxurious restaurants and hotels, made more striking by the contrast of abject poverty. Whereas in Costa Rica, there were often venders selling cell phone covers or fruits at intersections, here there are ALWAYS people in the intersections, selling things, but more often washing windows, pan handling, or (my favorite) spitting fire out of their mouths with gasoline and a flaming baton. There are more children also, young boys, barefooted, old filthy clothes, on a Sunday morning sidewalk squatting in a circle like little crows picking at a piece of bread. The only thing more heartbreaking than seeing them, is when you realize that you don’t notice so much anymore and you wonder what kind of person you are to not see it.

There is also the legacy of the war. Everyday amputees. The violence that has been a staple for so long that most people can’t imagine a place where you can be out after 8pm and not worry about being robbed or killed. It is an interesting mix, life here is precious, yet cheap.

The other big difference is that in Costa Rica, so fewer people emigrate. Many ticos hardly ever travel outside of their city or region. When I told people that I was living there for two years, they couldn’t understand why someone would want to leave their homeland. Although there are definitely exceptions, few people understood that someone would seek out more than what they were born to. I even had people tell me that my parents must not love me for having let me leave. I told them that they wanted me to be happy and they said, “I still wouldn’t let my child leave.” In El Salvador, everyone leaves. Literally, everyone has a member of their immediate family living in US, sometimes Spain or other countries. They never ask me how I could leave, they ask why would I come here?

Personally, I am adjusting to living much more bourgeois. The hardest part is that I am forever away from a grocery store that sells cheap things. It is sometimes a blessing and a curse that I can get nearly everything I could get in the states, in the supermarket next door to my house. The produce is much better when you can buy it in the mercados rather than the grocery stores. I do miss my farmer’s markets. There is also a distinct lack of ocean in the city. It’s only about an hour away by car, but that is significantly further than five minutes walking. Living without running water is an adjustment. I should be thankful that I at least have it in the morning, but there is still a moment of shock and disbelief when I turn the faucet and nothing happens.

All in all though, I like it here. I am learning my way around and finding my place. Yesterday, I still felt like there was plenty to be thankful for even if there wasn’t turkey, family, or football. :)

A place to hang my hammock...

Lots going on lately. I found my house, I think I already mentioned that a few hundred times. :) So the last week has been spent trying to make it habitable. I got the keys officially Thursday night. Generally in Central America, if a house is not furnished, it means that it is really NOT furnished. No stove, no fridge, nothing. So I have been scouring the papers looking for appliances. I am going to have a roommate and he has put himself in charge of providing living furniture and a TV and Playstation. The last two I can really do without... mainly because I will probably become addicted. So I move in for real tonight.

Last week I also attended a retreat for VMM. It is the organization that is sponsoring my volunteership. I gotta say I was a little nervous going into it, truth be told because it is a Christian based organization and it has been a REALLY long time since I have been associated with non-sinners. ;) Granted it is a VERY liberal organization, if it weren't I wouldn't have applied for the position. But there was a moment when I was a little worried that I had misrepresented myself. During the retreat, I met the other volunteers in the area, there are a couple in El Salvador and also in Nicaragua and Guatamala. It turned out that I really enjoyed getting to know them. I also appreciate the diversity that was in the group. I realized also that no matter the language we use what inspires us to do this work comes from the same place.

There are only 12 of us (well 17 if you count the bichos) so the group is much smaller but life story-wise very diverse. There are two families in the group. One has two kids (The Morans) and the other (The Fosters) have three. I have to say, I think that is absolutely gutsy and amazing. I guess the idea of having kids period seems, to me, akin to having my arms ripped off, having kids and trying to navigate Central American buses would then be like being beaten by the freshly removed appendages. There is also a couple serving in Guatamala who are in their 80's. It is amazing how much the age diversity changes the dynamic of the group. In the Peace Corps, most of the volunteers were 22 and fresh out of college. Alicia, is my age and a nurse. We really hit it off which is great and also a bummer because she is serving in Guatamala which is a neighbor, but still a ways away by bus. But, we are already planning to take our visa trips together. (Another BIG change from Peace Corps.... most likely my residency plan will be leaving the country every three months to renew my visa.) I had to chuckle, Alicia said that she became a nurse because her father suggested that she learn a practical skill that she could apply wherever she wanted to go. Good advise. I then thought about it and realized that maybe sociology doesn't fit in that category. I don't know if sitting in a hammock devising abstract social theories can technically be considered a "practical skill." I'll keep working on that.

Anyway, I left the retreat feeling good and appreciative for having a community again. I think I had been mourning the loss of my PC community and didn't realize it til I found another one. So... all is good. All will be great when I get settled in the new house. I will try to send some pics, but my camera has been slowly dying so I will do my best. I have added links on the side to VMM and also to Alicia's website and blog. She is really a much better person than I am so I thought I would include her link in the spirit of diversity. :)



Salvadoran Vocab:

Bicho: insect, pest or child

So... funny thing happened to me on my way home from work the other day.

The neighborhood I am in is really pretty tranquilo. It's kinda got a distinct feel to it cuz it's close to the University and has all these chill restaurants and bars.. kind of a Che Guevara meets Jack Kerouak ambiance. Anyway, so I was starting to get pretty comfortable and thinking that it's really not all that rough here, at least not where I'm at.

It was about 4p, broad daylight, I turned the corner onto one of the main streets and there were all these cops in front of this barber shop. They had the sidewalk taped off with the yellow crime scene tape. One guy was taking a picture of a shell casing next to one of those little triangular tented number things. They had another little number thing a few yards away near a browning blood stain. I walked past it and followed a blood trail down the street for about 20 feet. I thought someone must have just gotten hurt because I really didn't think that the stain looked big enough for a death, but when I told my friends about it later they said that they don't bother with pictures and crime scene tape if someone just gets injured. But, it wasn't news enough to make the papers. I guess that rates it somewhere between yellow tape and newsprint.

So.... I'm gonna go ahead and keep my guard up a bit.... and go somewhere else if I need a haircut. :)

Con hogar

YEA! I have a home!

I found a house to rent this afternoon. I was getting a little worried because everything that could be a slight possibility in the paper was already rented and I was afraid of getting a little desperate. But, all my days of hitting the streets and asking everyone I saw have finally paid off. I actually ran across this place on accident, I was wandering around, asking all the guards if there were places for rent and this one told me a couple of weeks ago that there was a girl moving out of a house this month and to stop back by. I did on Tuesday and he said that she had left and gave me the name of the owner. So I called her, went by to see it today and now I have a place to hang my hat. Good thing too because she told me that she has already had about four other calls and she hasn't advertised it at all.

It is really, really cute. It's a little bit out of my price-range, so I am going to have to have a roommate. Looks like I will be living with Maria's boyfriend. jajajaja! Now all I have to get is... everything. Houses here are rented with the bare minimum... there is no fridge or stove so I will need to get that. As well as a bed. It does have closets so that is a big plus. That is not standard. Location is great though, it is right next to a supermarket and only a block away from the coffee-shop. And I can walk to work, so that will save me bus fare. AND it comes with hammock hooks.

What more could I really ask?

oh yea... I mentioned earlier that I was looking for a house with a cistern so that I could have water 24/7.. well, everything that I mentioned above won out over having water in the afternoons and evenings.

Gringa Perdida

My explorations got me a bit turned around twice this week. But, not a problem, that's how I get to know new places. The first time, I took a "shortcut" from work and hung an "izzy" when I should have gone right and ended up somewhere that wasn't where I was trying to get to. Although it turned out well because the next day I went to look at an apartment that was in the same area so by then I already knew it. The other funny part about that street, is that when I was looking for the apartment, I had a hard time finding it. But generally the security guards are helpful with directions. There are shotgun armed security guards on nearly every corner, at least in this part of town. Anyway, I was walking down this seemingly normal street and I asked this security guard for directions, he was in front of a plain looking white building, and as I talked to him I realized that there were a lot of really nice cars parked in front. A car pulled up with two business suited guys in it and the security guard called on his walkie-talkie and said "Send two more girls." Just then, I happened to notice that above the door in gold letters was the name www.kissyface.com. Week three and I stumble upon my first high-end brothel. I giggled as I walked away.

So then yesterday, I decided to expand my world and see where the bus would take me. I was trying to get to a mall that has a bookstore. There are various commercial centers and two mega-malls here that are monstrous alters to high-end consumerism. (I think they build malls here so that you can more easily avoid eye-contact with the destitute masses.) Anyway, I couldn't remember the name of the mall with the bookstore but I could picture it in my head, from the little crappy map I had I thought it was called "Metropolis" because they showed a Metroplis commercial center and the thing is so big, it could have it's own zipcode. So I hop on the bus and figure, I'll just get off when I see it.

Fine plan. I am on the bus for a while, one minute I am watching two cops with M-16's shake down some teen-age boys and the next I am pulling into the busbarn at the end of the line. OOoops.... I asked the busdriver about the centro comercial and he tells me that we passed it a while back. So I asked him how to get back there and he was nice enough to walk me down to the busses headed back, explained to the other driver that I was a foolish, lost gringa. The next bus driver didn't even charge me to ride, which was lucky because I was scraping pennies to come up with the 25 cent bus fair and didn't want to be the idiot that tried to pay with a $20 bill. So I made it to the centro and realized that it was not at all mall I was looking for. So... (got some change) hopped another bus and went to the MetroCentro which is Mall 1 that is near where I live and that I know how to get back and forth from. I never made it to the bookstore, but I'm sure another day will come along with time to kill learning new bus routes.

Another funny addition to the story: I was walking down the main road that the MetroCenter is on (I stopped at a convenience store to buy a better map) and while I was waiting for the light to change I heard a honk. I look up and the first bus driver was waving at me. I laughed, he probably thinks I was completely lost. jajajaja!

Anyway, I wandered, I saw some stuff, I didn't stumble into gang lands. All is good.