(By John)

After spending a few short days in both Cleveland and Cincinnati, the moving van was packed up, and I set off West for San Diego. 2,200 miles, give or take.

DAY 1, 600 Miles, Cincinnati, Ohio to Springfield, Missouri, 11-plus hours

Passing first through the Blue Grass state, the Kentuck River, seen below indeed caught my eye, and was very "Kentucky-ish"

BTW--being camera-less for the time being means I googled all of these photos, but seriously, I saw stuff like this.

From Kenutcky, I crossed over Indiana and Illinois. While fine states in-and-of-themselves, nothing much very noteworthy happened in my trek across these two states other than experiencing the SLOW passage of time (my apologies to any Hoosiers or Illini reading this...)

Upon crossing into Missouri, and seeing the St Louis arch, I finally felt I was getting somewhere.

Unfortunately, I still had 2/3 of the state to traverse before reaching Springfield for my first night's stay. Luckily, I took in beautiful views of the thickly forested, rolling hills of the Ozark Mountains...

DAY 2, 841 Miles, Springfield, Missouri to Albuquerque, New Mexico, 14.5 hours

Yep that is right, Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas and then New Mexico!

I was struck by the rolling hills of Oklahoma. I expected it to be much flatter.

Also striking were the wind farms (and the wind these machines were harvesting that continually tried to blow me from the road). I was frankly somewhat startled when I first saw them, hulking in the distance with their methodical, relatively slow movements. I had never seen them before and was struck by how organic they looked and moved.

In addition to fighting the strong winds blowing across Oklahoma, Northern Texas and New Mexico, I also fought being distracted by the many interesting attractions along historic Route 66 such as the Cadillac Ranch pictured below outside Amarillo, Texas.

Besides the historic Route 66, it was difficult not to be awestruck by the amazing landscape of New Mexico.

Its mesas were otherworldly.

Being so flat, the landscape enables one to really have amazing views of thunderstorms and weather in-action... I saw a storm like this outside of Albuquerque.

DAY 3, 650 Miles, Albuquerque, New Mexico to Yuma, Arizona, 10.5 hours

The remaining miles of New Mexico did not disapoint. Nor did the distance covered in Arizona. I was amazed by the diversity of environments such as the amazing rock formations and various vantage points from which one can enjoy them.

One the final stretch before coming to Yuma, where I am spending the night, I passed through the Sonora desert. Even though it was REALLY HOT and DRY, the landscape was rich with different cacti and other plant/tree-like things.

It is my turn to leave

(by John)

After two years in El Salvador, it is now time to leave. I have officially closed my service, and I am no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer, rather, I have the new monicker, Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.

The last two years has been a transformative experience in which I made new friends--both Peace Corps Volunteers and staff and friends and colleagues in Suchitoto. The country of El Salvador and my city of Suchitoto provided a very rich environment socially, professionally and historically. I eventually immersed myself fully in the experience, building friendships, working together with my others and reading up on the history and talking with those how lived it.

Initially, I came here very focused on the professional aspects the experience had to offer--namely learning Spanish and gaining experience in international development. This focus was to the exclusion of all else the experience had to offer. I was just not open to a wider range of personal and social growth. Eventually, I did come around to those things through the difficult growing experience in which I had to "abandon" or at least accept things may not go according to my preconceived and narrow plan.

In this process, I have come to a wider perspective on what life has to offer. We can have all the plans and schemes we want, but all things good are founded on positive, healthy relations. and in the process of prioritizing and nurturing those relations, our plans and schemes change entirely...

I will be always be grateful to everyone who helped make this adventure possible from my wife, and family and friends in the states to my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers and staff and of course all my friends and colleagues in El Salvador and Suchitoto.

Sweet, sweet victory

Last week, I had the chance to go to a really important soccer game for Suchitoto´s semi-pro soccer team (semi-pro meaning, when there is not an economic crisis, the players get a symbolic payment for each game...). It was great fun.

It was the third week in a row La Brasilia, Suchitoto´s team, played the dreaded Espartanos from the Western part of the country. This final game determined once, and for all, which team would advance into a higher division for next year´s season--a big deal. What follow´s are some photos from the game.

Below is Eliseo, my neighbor´s son, sporting the banner for their beloved Brasilia, named after the capitol of Brasil after that country´s embassy provided support to help form the team years and years ago.

People packed onto two busses to follow the team to a stadium near the capitol. The Suchitoto fans were on the edge of their seats the whole game.

The team (in yellow and green) in action.

Goalllllllllll!!!!!!!!

To the bottom right of this photo a three people laying on the ground. On the bottom is a player who scored a goal that put the team up 3-1 in the second overtime to really seal the victory for the team. On top is my neighbor who is an assistant coach with the team. It was awesome to see him so excited.

And, of course, the crowd stormed the field after the victory, climbing over the fence to do so, in order to celebrate the sweet sweet victory.

The players reliving their adventures.

And let´s just be clear. People are crazy about their soccer.

Interviewing the winning coach. Also, note the soccer team in the background posing in iconic soccer-team style for their victory photo.

The team and some of their supporters.

Holy Week (by John)

Semana Santa or Holy Week is a special week here in El Salvador. No surprise, considering the name of the country means, "The Savior" in English. Its Catholic roots are strong and deep, and the Semana Santa typifies that with a week of vacation for many employees, religious processions and other events.

Here I share a several photos from the week.

Below is the proud artist of one of the Estaciones de La Cruz (Stations of the Cross) by which passes the procession organized by the church.

Below is a photo of young men from the church in the procession carrying a statue of Jesus with the cross. The banner in front reads, "I give you this new commandment, ´that you love one another as I have loved you all´.

Below, women from the church carry their own float of the Virgen Dolorosa (literal, "painful virgen", but probably better translated "grieving virgen"). This "float" is not part of the procession from the start, but comes to meet the procession at the first station.

The procession arrives at the first station. Head priest is kneeling to the right. Note that the other priest is kneeling directly on the concrete. This is not unusual to see of parishioners in the church. If there is no room to kneel on the wooden, padless pews, they kneel on the even harder concrete floor.

Moving along further in the week of Semana Santa, we have below a photo of the ataúd (coffin) of Jesus in the Procesión de Santo Entierro (The Holy Burial Procession).

Image of the Virgen Mary during the Santo Entierro procession.

A nice conversation taking place on a street corner during the same procession.

Moving yet again further in the week, below is a photo of La Vigilia (Midnight Mass). It was held outside this year because of remodeling of the church.

Parishioners during the Midnight Mass.

(By John)

The Weight of Memories 1

There they are

They inhabit you

They are you. Or at least they were you.

An imperfect archive of variable retrievability recalled on their own timetable

whether you want them or not

Presented before you with their own acuity, their own specifics

They could be from anywhere

Moments from communities of friends that have moved on

A tradition of backpacking adventures and the acute moments that remain to recall themselves:

• The strange characters such as Luther, the ex-con, who did not have to try hard to be disturbing, quoting movies and adding his own lines, 'What we have here is a failure to communicate', quoting a famous line before adding his own riff... 'now pick me up that ballbat and I´ll fix things up here right quick´.

Or

• A snapshot from a rest break on a night hike:

ensconced in a small rock shelter overlooking the expanse of valleys below—the stars commandeering attention. 'Hey! Check that out! Isn´t that Andromeda?' The open sky serving to set loose thoughts to land on any topic and tarry there for a while, imagining, sharing, enthusing

But where are the rest of those trips?

Or the other ones?

What is the mix of factors making these moments indelible and buoyant enough to surface from inactivity from time to time?

Richness abounds from having these memories, but there is also a loss in having them

They have their own weight

The moments are gone

They were so special, even if—as sometimes is the case—only in retrospect

May there be more of them

The Weight of Memories #2

Further, deeper

More meaning, more mixed feelings

More complexities, inter-locking layers.

Strains on the actual moment of the present

For all that has come before

Zombie-fied, walking in a nebulous state of suspension from reality

Displaced to another realm from which one simultaneously observes and experiences

Almost experiences, but not quite, the present precisely because of the weight of the past

The weight of memories

So very pleased for what has been

while

squeezing out tears for having said goodbye to those “beens” or the people with which the “beens” were had

while

so very excited scared reluctant over what is to come

while because

cognizant that goodbyes for what is to come will come soon enough

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ok. A bit of an explanation. These two pieces are attempts to capture some of the emotions and memories that unexpectedly hit me just about as soon as we arrived in El Salvador.

From the very start of our service here, I noted how I found myself reflecting on things—periods of time, groups of friends, events, activities—from the past that I had not thought about in a long time if ever at all. I was struck by how "gone for good" those times seemed as I reflected on them. As if I had crossed some sort of line--in coming here--after which the circumstances creating those situations could never be returned to.

And of course, now that I am nearing the end of my service here in El Salvador, I, of course, am reflecting on my time here.

Perhaps this is a normal peer reviewed “life stage” that has been analyzed up and down. Heck, the older you get, the more there is to look back on. Nonetheless, it would be hard to think this is merely some normal stage and that moving here did not trigger or facilitate such reflection. Or perhaps recent o upcoming large changes in life naturally trigger reflective periods.

Either way, I tried to capture the great joy I have had in reflecting on and reliving these moments as well as the sorrow experienced for having to let these moments go as well.

(By John)

As the last blog entry made clear, Amber terminated her service with the Peace Corps to take a great job stateside in San Diego, California. Before Amber left, we did a serious of fun things that amounted to a "long goodbye" (despedida extendida).

On March 31, we went to the World Cup qualifying match between the USA and El Salvador. The Cuscatlán Stadium was wall-to-wall blue, the color of the Salvadoran national team. The Salvadoran team played their hearts out to a 2-2 tie. None of my Salvadoran friends here thought their team would get so close, 0-5 one predicted in favor of the US, 1-3 another predicted, a bit optimistically.

It was truly one of the best sporting events I have been too. The energy in the stadium was palpable.

El Salvador got out to an unbelievable 2-0 lead until well into the 2nd half, when the Salvadoran team lost 3 of their key players, one being their goalie. The US stormed back with 2 quick goals, and there the score stood, “empatada” or tied.

From the soccer match, we went to the beach. Normally, we are not big beach people, but we wanted a chance to see the famous black sand beaches of El Salvador.

Also, we wanted to have a chance to get away from all the official goodbyes and have some time to ourselves. The trip and the beaches did not disappoint. We particularly enjoyed eating a couple dinners in this restaurant “muy humilde” (very humble) where we were served our dinners by the barefoot waitress/cook. We will miss readily finding such treasures that are absent of pomp, attitude and perceptions.

Upon returning to Suchitoto, we had the actual despedida party scheduled at a local bar on the plaza central. It was a great time connecting, but nonetheless bittersweat to have to be saying goodbye to our precious time here together.

It´s time for me to go. (Ya es hora de irme.)

Today is my final day in El Salvador as I leave in a few hours for a new job opportunity in the United States. It is not lost on me that in taking this position and leaving El Salvador for the US, I will be enacting the dream of so many Salvadorans who seek a better life on the other side of the border.

Interestingly, in my time here, I have grown to love both countries more than I ever have, but through opposite actions.

El Salvador I have grown to love through knowing its people, culture, landscape and raw vitality -- and through establishing a life lived in all its normalcy, allowing my life and history to meld into its own. This is the love one feels for family. An unquestioned love nourished by shared experience, shared future, support, and acceptance.

The United States, on the other hand, I have grown to love more by leaving it behind. By being able to see it from afar, as most Salvadorans do, I now more clearly understand its phenomenal capacity (often, but not always, acted upon) to compel our common humanity toward the principles of justice and liberty. This is the love one has for the iconic role models of our world, the ones who rise above all others and chart the course of our destiny.

But leaving El Salvador to go back to our great country is anything but easy and, in fact, is proving to be one of the hardest things I have ever done -- though it will never be as hard as what Salvadorans experience as they travel dangerously to the US with the possibility of never seeing El Salvador or their families again. By being born with the exclusive membership of American citizenship, I am afforded rights and opportunities that I used to take for granted -- like being able to cross our borders freely.

El Salvador is not an easy country to leave. But I´m leaving my heart here as an assurance that I´ll be back.

amber

(By John)

Se fue mojada.

A couple weeks ago we arrived to work on Monday to one of our co-workers saying good bye to everyone. Much to our surprise, she was saying “goodbye” before leaving illegally for the United States. “Se fue mojada”, or “she left wet” as is said here.

This really struck us. For one thing, this friend has three children.

How hard must things be for a mother to make such a tough decision? How hard must it be for a mother who clearly loves and has raised some well-behaved, curious and studious kids to leave her kids behind indefinitely?

In the photo below, half of the children in it have at least one parent in the USA.

What´s more, is our friend had it much better than many in El Salvador. She had a good job with a well-known city managing projects and on-going work. Unfortunately, her salary was around only $180 a month, so she made the calculation that the risk and cost of going illegally to the USA was worth it.

If she, a responsible mother with a good job, made such a severe decision, what must it be like for the street and bus vendors we see—selling anything from gum and tomatoes, to stickers and pens?

The going rate of a “coyote”, a person who takes people illegally to the USA, is between $6000-$8000. Supposedly, a cousin helped our friend pay this amount. Normally, it includes three tries to enter the States assuming the 1st and 2nd attempts fail. The trip is fraught with dangers, from riding on the tops of trains, to illegal plane flights, to being sitting ducks for corrupt officials and criminals specifically preying on illegal migrants.

“Ha llegado al otro lado”, “she has arrived to the other side”, a co-worker announced after receiving a call from our friend upon her safe arrival to her destination city in the States.

To underscore the danger of the trip, we also learned that when in Texas, still in transit to her final destination, a group of people she was with were kidnapped—by some of those criminals who prey on illegal migrants who have no legal recourse. Luckily, our friend had previously left the house where they were dwelling with her coyote and avoided being kidnapped.

I have never been forced to make such a severe decision in which I would be willing to run such high risks. She was “entre la espada y la pared”, or “between the sword and the wall”, and did what she thought was best for her and her family.

These experiences have shed more light on immigration issues facing our region of the world—issues that will probably be more acute in the coming months of the economic crisis.

I only hope that when dealing with these issues, we step outside of ourselves to take in the full-range of experiences, especially of those whose margin between having a modicum of comfort and mere survival is so drastically smaller than what most people in the US enjoy. And, I only hope that fewer and fewer people are forced to have to make such difficult decisions as the one our friend made.

Exalted status (by John)

We have a sense here of having an exalted social status we did not have in the US. Not normally thought of as part of the image of the self-sacrificing Peace Corps volunteer, I thought it´d be interesting to share some of the peculiarities of this new found status.

On the 150th anniversary of Suchitoto, the City had many commemoration events, and below is a photo from one of them--an event most locals could not go to. From left to right are a famous local film maker, the Chilean ambassador and the Mayor of our city.

More telling was what happened at a VIP-only commemoration in which the town was made capitol for a day. The legislative assembly held asession in the city´s theater. Ambassadors came and there were even one or two elected officials from the USA and various other “meros macizos” (important people).

I was helping film the event, and for one reason or another, Amber needed to deliver me some keys. She did so. Walking right in in order to hand them to me. It was not until the next week, when talking with our co-workers that we realized Amber was let in unquestioned for being a “gringa”…

Our co-workers had gone to the theater, but were turned away by gatekeepers.

Now granted, some of this exalted status comes down to hospitality. Perhaps Amber was not just a gringa, but a foreigner in for the event, so she passed in unmolested…

Moving on to another peculiarity. One time, a nice woman hosted us to a luxurious weekend in the capitol. A night in her house with beautiful city views, breakfast served by live-in staff, and so on. This was a weekend most Salvadorans will never know, and it was provided after a very brief 10 minute chat when I met this nice woman at a local "mixer", such as the one pictured below.

Would we have been offered this weekend were we not gringos or with Peace Corps?

Surely, some status comes from being Peace Corps. We are representatives of the American people (not the US government), so we are somewhat public figures. No surprise there.

Nonetheless, from these and other experiences, it is clear we are consistently given the “benefit-of-the-doubt” to a degree of which we had not been accustomed.

Where does it come from? Is it hospitality? Is it because we are from the USA? Is it because of the close relation El Salvador has with the USA? Is it because being from a small developing country makes one have “rock star envy” for outsiders? I think it is a bit of all of these.

Shifting to larger themes to which this entry is connected. Do you come from a big city and sometimes look down on people in "fly-over" country, meaning smaller rural areas? Or… are you from a small town, school or business and figure those from the bigger incarnations of these are naturally better off, more experienced, smarter?

I think we naturally attribute status to ourselves and others based on facts and assumptions (assumptions based on appearance, diction, statements made, associates kept…). It is only natural. We, as humans, categorize.

Nonetheless, from this experience, I hope to take with me that status, whether attributed legitimately or not, should be divorced from the inherent worth one actually has. More than anything, this is a shout out to my Salvadoran cheros (buddies) who have not had the opportunity to do some of the things we have done here...

Since the ones I taught last year were so successful, I´ve started two more classes of photography. Word has gotten out and these classes are filled to the limit. We just began, but I can already see some real promise in a couple of the students.

Below are a couple of the better photographs in the class so far, and a photo of one of the groups of students, cameras in hand.

GETTING STUFF DONE (By John)

Future volunteers receive material from Peace Corps orienting them on a number of themes. One theme is being prepared for the time required to assimilate into a new community and learn its language, culture and politics before being able to “get stuff done”. Nevertheless, many volunteers arrive in-country with the desire to get lots of stuff done quickly. I know I did. In this entry I want to explore some areas associated with “getting stuff done” and share some observations from the perspective of someone who worked many years in the US before coming here. Let´s see how we as “gringos” get stuff done versus how stuff gets done here. More than anything, I want to have fun looking at any differences and sharing a bit of my experience adjusting to them here. project manager There usually is not one here. Things are often done by committee. Typically, meetings address how things are going, and what needs to be done next. No surprise. However, there usually is NOT that main point person to integrate things together, follow-up or refine things between these meetings. The result: projects do not progress as “they could”. Things do not progress as “they could” progress… if everyone “were” to behave like I wanted them to… or like they came from my culture. Are the things we learn in US universities and more or less practice in the US universally applicable? I do not believe there is a simple answer to that question. The flip side of this lack of a project manager is group responsibility. People here fill in the gaps and take collective leadership decisions. There is more willingness to move forward with out that key point person, and stuff gets done. deadlines and punctuality Not as important here, on both counts. Starting meetings a half hour late is early, and the same flexibility on starting meetings applies to deadlines, so things can slip on the schedule. But since there is no project manager, who is there to stress out? meeting facilitation It is different here. Sometimes long tangents are allowed onto different topics. In fact, 3-4 hour meetings are not uncommon. For someone used to 1-2 hour meetings, this required a lot of adjustment. Now I have come to experience these meetings as part social events that include business as well. uncertainty There is just a lot more uncertainty here: a weak central government (of classic liberal limited government design), underfunded local governments, a whole slew of local and international NGOs, and a higher poverty level in which people may leave on short notice for emergencies or opportunities. This translates into a situation where multiple and sometimes changing left hands do not know what the various right hands are doing. Not surprisingly, there is much more tolerance for uncertainty. People have more tolerance for delays or for leaving things less clear than I was accustomed to in the States. “Sabemos esperar” or “We know how to wait”, a colleague recently told me. Recently, I learned of a large restoration project in which the main contractor “subcontracted” work on the roof without a contract. Work went on for two months before it was discovered more wood needed to be replaced than originally thought. Unfortunately, the verbal agreement left both parties in a difficult position to negotiate a new price, because no firm costs were established in-writing to provide a detailed point for renegotiating. And contractor problems do not happen in the states? Yea right. My only point here is there is more willingness to operate with a level of uncertainty most gringos are not comfortable with. Also, it is worth adding here that the restoration project is still moving right along. last minute

If it can be left until then, it normally is. I am now used to being asked to participate in a meeting or complete a needed report the very same day. For people here, this requires no getting used to, it is just how things are done. If I needed something ASAP, I could go to my colleagues here and be almost certain they would drop what they were doing to pitch in. “A lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine”—I have not come across that attitude here. And things get done. …For someone who has extensively managed and studied projects, I could go on, but my main purpose was just to share a bit of my work experience. All cultures are different. They all have their strengths and weaknesses. What are the ways we go about things that can be of benefit to others? Conversely, what are the ways other cultures go about doing things that can be of value to us?

The view from above. (by John) El Salvador is roughly the size of Massachussetts. It is roughly the same shape as well. That is to say that it is more or less rectangle with its southern border—the long side of the rectangle—on the pacific and the northern border—the other long side of the rectangle—sharing frontiers with Guatemala and Honduras.

While I knew El Salvador was hilly and steep it was not until I realized in the distance covered by going from the southern coast to the northern frontier—only some 55 miles—one travels from sea level to a height more than a mile high (1.7 miles or 8956 feet) above sea level. That is steep! In such a country that boasts both 11 volcanoes and innumerable cool overlooks; on clear days one can literally see landmarks clear on the other side of the country. It is quite impressive.

The past couple of nights, the moon here has been incredible. Saturday night, it was intensely bright with a very large white halo surrounding it. A couple nights ago, it had another halo that was smaller and yellowish.

Then last night, I walked into our patio and could feel by the quality of the moonlight that something unique was going on. I looked up and, once again, the moon had a halo, but this time the halo had all the colors of the rainbow in it!

It looked like the picture pasted here (though this is not my photo). Que chivo, no?

Someone once said that returning to the US after more than an year´s absence was like a bad acid trip. I am guessing that statement was a bit exaggerated as we very much enjoyed ours. In reflection on the trip, here are a few observations that stick out:

1. We loved wearing cold-weather clothes again! Scarfs, sweaters, turtlenecks ... I love the thick fabrics of fall and winter clothing. I definitely miss it in El Salvador.

2. I had forgotten how much choice there is in the US. We went to a Starbucks to get coffee and had the following conversation with John:

J: What do you want to order?

A: Just coffee. Plain.

J: But which coffee do you want?

A: What do you mean? I just want coffee.

J: But they have four types of coffee. House blend. Christmas blend. Vanilla-Hazelnut. And Decaf. Which one do you want?

A: Four types of coffee?? I don´t understand. I just want plain coffee.

The conversation devolved into an analysis of each type of coffee, their strengths and weaknesses, until I could decide which was the best option for me at that moment. In El Salvador, we don´t have that kind of selection so my decision-making skills are a bit weak.

3. It was a bit difficult to stop speaking spanish to people, especially waiters and other service providers. I always had to stop and remember to speak english. Or, say if someone crossed my path and said "excuse me," my spanish response ("Pase adelante.") would always come out before my english response.

4. I wanted cold weather and we got it. It was below zero a day or two in Cincinnati. Wow, that is COLD.

5. At our layover in Atlanta, I was in a trance watching all the people walking through the airport and the amazing diversity of clothing, races, hairstyles, etc. America is full of so much variety that I have missed. The most common denominator of everyone in the airport seemed to be the iPod that almost every person was carrying.

6. Our first couple nights of sleep were dreadful. We are not used to indoor heating. It felt like our respiratory systems and skin had been seriously dehydrated as a result. We adjusted to that after several days.

7. We missed our families a lot. It was great to see them and sad to leave them.

8. I was able to identify the Cleveland accent. It has always been difficult for me to hear, but it was clear as a bell our first few days there.

9. We got snow on one of our last days in Cleveland. It was a beautiful sight to see.

10. Indian food tastes as wonderful as the fantasy of it that I had stored in my head.

11. The only people I was able to speak spanish with in the US were two housekeepers in Boston´s Logan airport, who helped me with directions.

12. Wow, Ohio really is grey during the winter. We never saw the sun. I never had to wear sunglasses. Coming back to El Salvador was a shock on the eyes.

13. One of my first memories of El Salvador is of the smells of the airport, which were so new to me. This time, when we returned and entered the airport, I smelled nothing distinguishable -- a sign that we are accustomed to El Salvador.

14. Someone recognized us in El Salvador´s airport when we returned. It is a small country. We like that.

Many thanks to everyone who helped to make our trip a wonderful and memorable one. We´ll be back sometime in 2009.

After a year and a half in El Salvador, we are finally making a visit back to our families in Cincinnati and Cleveland.

Our schedule is: Cincinnati 12/17-12/24 and Cleveland 12/24-01/02.

Due to our limited time and family obligations, we are unable to see everyone individually. So, instead we having a get-together in Cincinnati so that we might share a drink with anyone that is available. Email me directly for the date, time and location. It would be great to see you there.

What are we looking forward to in Ohio? We don´t miss a whole lot living in El Salvador, but here´s a little list, in no particular order:

- Family- Friends- Snow- Hot water showers- Espresso brownies from the Coffee Emporium (Cincinnati)- Anything and everything Christmas-related (Christmas in El Salvador is much different than what we are accustomed to, so we want this Christmas to be over the top. Break out the dancing santas!)- Cold-weather clothes- Indian food- Speaking english - A trip to Little Italy (Cleveland)

Take care. Hope to see you soon.

The other day I was walking with a couple of my photography students (ages 11-13). We passed a group of tall, blond girls who are volunteers from Denmark. Our city is the training base for a Danish NGO. Their volunteers learn spanish here and then go off to another central or south american country for their service. While I do participate in the training of these Danish volunteers (I give them a lecture on understanding Latin America through its art), I had not yet met this newest group.

What follows is my conversation with my photo students as we passed by the Danish volunteers on the street:

STUDENT: "¿Amber, quienes son ellas? ¿Son de los Estados Unidos?"

Amber, who are they? Are they from the US?

ME: "No. Son danesas. Son de Dinamarca."

No. They´re danish. They are from Denmark.

STUDENT: "¿Son gringas?"

Are they gringas?

ME: "Depende. Si ´gringa´ significa una persona de los Estados Unidos, no. Si ´gringa´significa alguien que es blanca, sí."

It depends. If "gringa" means a person from the US, then no. If "gringa" means someone who is white, then yes.

(The definition of "gringo" is a little difficult. Some people think that only Americans are gringos. But, then if you ask them if African Americans are gringos, they say "no." Then others say that gringo just means "a white person" from any country. Either way, the term itself is not an insult.)

STUDENT: "¿Las conoce?"

Do you know them?

ME: "No, no las he conocido todavía."

No, I haven´t met them yet.

STUDENT: "Pero... ¿no es la verdad que conoce todos los gringos?"

But ... isn´t it true that you know all gringos?

This is the common misperception. All white people must know eachother. Not only do children think this, but many adults do too. I once met a person who knew someone in the states. He asked me, "Do you know Kathy? She lives in Nevada."

The term itself -- gringo or gringa -- is not controversial. Calling people by the color of their skin color is very common here, even among Salvadorans. Someone might refer to another person by not saying his name, but rather saying "el moreno" or the "the dark-skinned guy."

People here invariably call me "chelita" at the market, on the bus, on the street, anywhere. "Chelita" literally means "little white girl." I am so used to hearing this that it doesn´t phase me, but then I think about how strange that would be to hear in the U.S...

(by John)

One of our favorite radio programs is "This I Believe", in which Americans from all walks of life give a short "essay" about something in which they believe. Here is my contribution.

I believe in adventure. I believe in the lure of what is around the next corner. I believe in the possibilities of the unknown.

When I was young, we had a long ravine behind our house running the length of our neighborhood and beyond. For me, the ravine was another world. It was my playground. I could walk and walk and walk. I climbed over fallen trees. I crawled under others. I peered over and down the drop off descending below to the creek cutting through the ravine. I was always yearning to see what was around the next bend—figuring, in my youthful imagination, I would come across a native tribe, an amazing waterfall or a lost treasure.

While I never did come across those things, I was never disappointed in what I found, and the lure of what might be beyond the next bend always kept me going… and coming back.

This sense of adventure has stuck with me since then, and I have made it a point “to adventure” in order to regain a sense of wonder, clear my mind and open it up to new possibilities.

In one such wondrous moment during a backpacking excursion, I was on top of a narrow ridge in a gorge after a rainstorm when an ascending mist came up from the steep valley below and engulfed me. I could simultaneously see the whiteness of the mist, feel its wetness and smell the scent of pine it had gathered from the trees through which it passed before it reached me.

Wow.

While we cannot always be guaranteed these “wowing” and picturesque moments when we adventure outside of the “comfort zone” of our daily experience, we do open ourselves up to what the world has to offer—its simple beauty, its wildness, its unfairness, and its decaying and foreboding places. It forces us to be present, alive and conscious. It makes us boil off the habitual distractions that can accrue during our normal, daily lives and that take us away from our passions and interests.

Not surprisingly, I have come to value how rejuvenating these adventurous moments can be. Clearly, my preferred adventuring is the type that is very tangible and viscerally felt—out in the nature—where we are physically engaged in the experience. Nonetheless, there are many ways of adventuring outside of our comfort zone that open us up, force us to learn and adapt and allow us to achieve a more balanced state from which we can more effectively be present as ourselves in our lives.

I believe in adventures that get us there. How do you adventure?

Last month, I celebrated my second birthday in El Salvador. I admit, I was a little sad that day because no one in our office wished me "Felíz Cumpleaños." I had assumed our coworkers just hadn´t known us long enough to remember our birthday dates.

In fact, one coworker greeted me on my birthday in this way.

Coworker: "Buenos días, Amber. ¿Estás muy cansada?" (Good morning, Amber. Are you really tired?)

Me: "¿No, por qué me haces esta pregunta?" (No, why do you ask?)

Coworker: "Porque tienes ojeras abajo de los ojos." (Because you have dark circles under your eyes.)

Great. Nice to see you too. This is one of the harder things to adapt to about Salvadoran culture. Nine times out of ten, the culture is super polite -- much more so than American. No one will walk into a public office, for example, unless they have been given the go ahead from an employee (¡Pase adelante!). Other times, people that we work with can be so shy in asking me a minor favor that I would have no shyness in asking of them.

But then, when it comes to appearance, it is a different story. Like many Latin American countries, it is perfectly normal here to tell someone that they look like they have gained weight. Or...that you have dark circles under your eyes. When John and I returned from Nicaragua last week, the gossip in the office was that someone said that I had returned from the trip looking "muy delgada" (very thin). None of these comments are meant to be derrogatory. It is just a cultural difference that takes some getting used to.

So anyway, on my birthday, I was a little sad to be away from the family and friends that know my birthday and help me to celebrate it. John and I had plans to have a birthday dinner with an American retiree that lives in our city. We get together each month to share gourmet dinners and english conversation. But when we arrived at the house, I quickly learned that John, our American friend, and our roommate had organized a surprise birthday (fiesta de sorpresa) instead. There in the house were all of the people with whom we share our lives with here, everyone who pretended to not know my birthday date all day long. "¡Mentirosos!," I jokingly accused them all of being. (Liars!)What followed was probably the most memorable birthday I will have in a long time. We celebrated with lots of food and, of course, a piñata. It was also my first birthday party completely in spanish, and hopefully not the last.

I am teaching a digital photography class to about 15 students right now. Teaching gives me an opportunity to get to know some Salvadoran youth.

A couple of my students and I (mis alumnas y yo) recorded this very short video to say hello to our families in other countries. Nearly every Salvadoran has family members in the US or Canada.

There are a curious things that happen to us in El Salvador or things that we notice about ourselves that, over time, we have learned can be best answered by the following statement: "Because we are gringos." (Porque somos gringos).

This answer explains a lot, while at the same time revealing a lot about what it means to be a white american (gringo). If I ever thought that living in El Salvador would give me an idea of what it would be like to be a minority (meaning that I would receive the negative effects of being a minority), I was wrong. We will never be able to understand this, I think, as white americans, because this status holds too much power in too much of the world. I won´t get into the larger issues associated with some the following (others are rather tongue-in-cheek), but you can think about them yourself.

"Because we are gringos" is a common answer to the following scenarios:

- Why young children can´t stop staring at us on the bus.

- Why we are often charged more for produce in the market.

- Why we were ushered in to watch a meeting of the National Legislative Assembly without questions, when everyone else (locals) was required to stand outside and listen to the proceedings over a loudspeaker.

- Why we hear children yell out to us in the street any English words they know: "Hello! Goodbye! One, two, three, four, five!"

- Why we wear sandals, sunglasses, convertible cargo pants, and anything made from synthetic high-performance fabrics.

- Why we are often asked to give private English lessons.

- Why we can´t roll our R´s. Okay, this probably doesn´t have anything to do with me being gringa, but that is my excuse.

- Why locals are sometimes shocked that we can speak spanish.

- Why we often receive better customer service than locals.

- Why we were recently given a personal tour of an geo-thermal energy plant -- and other special treatments.

- Why we are asked to help locals communicate with police in the States when their relatives are arrested for crossing the border.

Corn is big in El Salvador. Really big. It's a way of life. We recently had our annual Festival de Maiz, a celebration of the year's corn harvest, which will provide much of the food in the national diet for the coming months. Here are just some of the foods made from corn in El Salvador.

Tortillas: These are thick tortillas that can't be folded. Most people use them as utensils with their meal, using them to scoop up beans.

Tamales: Ground corn boiled in a banana leaf, often stuffed with chicken. There is another sweet variety stuffed with raisins, sugar and cinnamon.

Pupusas: Tortillas stuffed with beans and cheese, and sometimes pork.

Elote Loco: (Crazy Corn!) This is corn on the cob, but it is covered with lots of sauces (ketchup, mustard, and salsa inglesa) and shredded cheese. The other way of eating corn on the cob is with lemon and salt.

Riguas: Ground corn and cheese shaped into a patty and grilled within a corn husk.

Tortitas: A fried patty of ground corn.

Atol de Elote: A hot, thick, and sweet beverage made from corn.

Atol Chuco: A hot corn beverage, with beans, chile sauce and salt.

Atol Chilate: A hot corn beverage with little flavor. It is often served to complement a sweet snack, such as nuegados.

Cafe de Maiz: Corn coffee. Ground, toasted corn with cinnamon, brewed to make coffee.

After realizing how important corn is in El Salvador, a whole day devoted to celebrating corn makes sense here.

Les amamos a nuestros visitantes (We love our visitors).

Sharing our lives here in El Salvador with family and friends who have come to visit us has been great.

For the visitors, a foreign trip where one already knows “locals” offers a great opportunity to more fully experience and know that country. As for us, it is great to have “representatives” of our previous life here in the flesh.

People who share our cultural and national background more fully understand what it means to adapt to life here. While we can explain to our Salvadoran friends what this adaptation has been like, our stateside friends and family have a more complete, even visceral comprehension of this. Plus, such interactions give us the chance to connect with people in a way we did daily when in the states.

One example our visitors can fully understand is adapting to the “chicken buses”—the common mode of transportation here. Many of our visitors rode to school on these same buses in the US. As we bounce around El Salvador holding on to the seats in front of us, our visitors, like us, have memories resurface of riding these buses when they were young. Similar nostalgic memories come back when long forgotten 80´s pop music is blasted. And they also find humor in the completely disregarded and somewhat comprehended riding rules and bus capacities that are written in English when every seat and possible space in the aisle is filled.

In sharing this experience, our backgrounds, our knowledge, and our sensibilities— who we are — is reinforced.

We have had the luck to have four visitors or groups of visitors come to see us in our site.

Ray and Katie, home town friends and parents of our friend and fellow El Salvador Peace Corps Volunteer, Anne, came for a short visit. I cannot believe we did not take a photo of them while they were here!

Amber´s school-hood friend, Jessica Hilt, spent the end of the year with us. She got to experience Christmas, Salvadoran-style, with all the fireworks and climb a volcano.

Amber´s mom swung by and we had a blast showing her the ins and outs of our site and a few other places in El Salvador.

Katie and her mom, Evelyn, visited. It was Evelyn´s first trip overseas! They loved our site, and embarked on their own adventure to the pacific coast for a couple days.

This weekend, I was reading an article in the Economist about Venezuela´s increasing homocide rate (tasa de homicidio). In it, I came across this sentence.

Last year more than 13,000 people were killed in a country of 27m, producing a murder rate of 48 per 100,000, the second highest in the world (after El Salvador).

That´s right. El Salvador. Highest murder rate in the world!

I have always known that El Salvador is dangerous. That doesn´t surprise me. But the highest murder rate? I always knew that it had the highest murder rate in Central America, but the world? That was a shock to me.

I have let friends come to El Salvador to visit us. And my mother too. What was I thinking?

But here is the thing. I don´t feel unsafe. Our city, especially, is completamente tranquila. I pretty much know the areas of the country that are unsafe and simply do my best to stay out of them. I have only had one frightening incident -- in which a gang member boarded a bus that I was on with a gun in hand and pulled someone off the bus -- but for a country that is apparently this dangerous, we have done exceptionally well.

In fact, we seemed to be magnets for crime in the US and in other travels. Between 2003 and 2007, we had seven incidents of robbery (five in Cincinnati, one in Hawaii, one in Argentina). Four were successful. Three were unsuccessful. Then there was the crazy 2006 incident when we witnessed an armed robbery that sent John running all throughout Cincinnati on foot after the two criminals who (hellooo, John) had a gun!

Granted, robberies and murders are two different things. But speaking of crime overall, since we came to El Salvador, we have actually breathed a sigh of relief at the remarkable crime-free streak that we have enjoyed. Over a year now and no robberies. Wow. (knocking on wood)

Most crime in El Salvador is, without doubt, gang related. The police here are overwhelmed with the size of the gangs here. But since we do not belong to a gang, this alone can assure our life expectancy to be somewhat normal. The most common crime that affects everyday people is bus robbery. There is little that we can do to avoid this, but so far we have not had any problems (except for my gun-toting incident mentioned above). There is also a lot of extortion here. Gang members force anyone and everyone to pay them money in exchange for their safety. I have little sympathy for such crimes against poor people. Some of those that flee this country for the States do so just to escape the danger of the gangs here.

Though we personally feel pretty safe here, we don´t take that for granted. There are decisions that we consciously make every day to avoid danger in this country, all of which seem to have worked so far.

Interestingly, we took many of these same measures in the States too, where they failed.

Women in El Salvador (and throughout much of the developing world) often carry their belongings on top of their heads. This still amazes me. Such balance. Such neck strength. Sometimes the contents upon the head are quite large and quite heavy (like a three gallon jug of water - full). And somehow these women manage to carry it all, walk down the street, talk with people, pick something up from the ground, etc, etc, all while maintaining perfect balance. It is amazing.

It didn´t take us long in El Salvador to notice that only women carry stuff on their heads. Men? Never. They traditionally hold their things up on their shoulders. I can´t give you a good explanation as to why there is this gender difference because no one here can tell me why either. It is just the way it is. I have my theory that women started carrying stuff on their heads because their hands are often busy taking care of children. It is just a theory.

As well, carrying belongings upon one´s head seems to be an indicator of class. By and large, professional, middle class women do not carry things in this manner. The women that do are often vendors -- and vendors here do not make a lot of money.

Even after a year in El Salvador, this practice still amazes me.

Before we came to El Salvador, we were sent a list of 50 things that a volunteer that was already here loved about the country. This list helped us to imagine our future lives in El Salvador.

Now as that volunteer prepares to return to the US, John and I decided to make our own list of 50 things we love about El Salvador in her honor.

In no particular order (although you will notice our heavy emphasis on foods, but for those of you that know us, that should come as no suprise):

1. Being here has proved to us that we can live without a lot of stuff and everyday comforts and still be happy. Never do we feel as if we are lacking.

2. Milhojas – a meringue-filled pastry.

3. Pupusas with curtido, tomato sauce, and hot chocolate. The perfect dinner for under a dollar.

4. That Amber´s mom got to know this country because she visited us.

5. Viejitas (a sweet bread filled with chocolate and cinnamon)

6. Semitas with lots of pineapple jam filling.

7. That our bakery brings in whole wheat flour for us from their factory just because we asked.

8. Hummingbirds come into our house.

9. That Jessica got to know this country because she visited us.

10. In homes, restaurants, and offices, we are never truly inside nor outside – always somewhere in-between.

11. When the National Mexican Opera came to sing in our town, bats in the theater flew about.

12. When the National Mexican Opera came to sing in our town, stray cows walked through our central plaza.

13. Living here has made us appreciate more the racial diversity that exists in the U.S.

14. Lizards live in our house.

15. Walking to work, the market, home, restaurants, nearly everywhere.

16. Living here has made us understand more fully how privileged our lives have been.

17. We get to follow and understand a presidential election in another country. (El Salvador votes for a new president in March 2009).

18. We get to follow our own presidential election from the perspective of another country.

19. Climbing volcanoes.

20. The lumpy landscape, showing clear evidence of the shifting tectonic plates above which we live.

21. Local people who work hard for their community—for no pay—that inspire us.

22. The word for “muffin” is “moffing.”

23. The word for “tuxedo” is “smoking.”

24. The word for a vanilla ice cream covered in a chocolate shell is “cappuccino.”

25. Frilly, frilly aprons worn by female vendors.

26. Fried yucca.

27. Zapote fruit.

28. Everyone greets everyone in the street.

29. The pain of the Civil War that lasted 12 years seems to be something to which no one ever wants to return.

30. No one ever treats us badly despite their full awareness that the US heavily financed and trained government troops during their Civil War.

31. Opening up packages of peanut butter and dark chocolate sent by family and friends as if it were Christmas.

32. Missing the front entrance of the moving bus while you are buying fresh roasted cashews from a street vendor and being forced to run and jump into the back exit of the bus while holding the cashews, the change from the cashews and other recently purchased groceries and being bounced around the steps of the rear exit like a pinball before triumphantly taking your seat to enjoy your roasted cashews, the adrenalin rush and setting off for your destination.

33. That you can just about see across the entire country on a clear day and when you are up high enough.

34. Good coffee at $3 a pound.

35. Feeling cold when it is 70 degrees out.

36. That it gets quiet at night, because people go to bed early.

37. That Ray and Katie got to know this country because they visited their daughter and us.

38. Fresh baked quesadillas that come to YOU on the bus for only $.50.

39. Salvadoran hospitality. It is humbling.

40. That I can run into a least three people walking home from work that I know and with which can strike up a conversation.

41. The “chuco” corner. “Chuco” means dirty but refers to a type of corner drink that is sold on one of the corners of the plaza central. A great place to sit and chat while enjoying the piping hot tasty treat of ground corn, black beans, chili sauce and spices.

42. Washing clothes by hand. It is quite relaxing.

43. Riding in the back of pickup trucks.

44. Pirated DVDs for $1.

45. Learning caliche (El Salvadoran slang) – words that would not make sense in any other country.

46. The opportunity to run through a herd of cattle during our morning workouts.

47. That Katie and her mom, Evelyn, got to know this country because they visited us.

48. The rhythmic clapping sound of tortillas being made as you walk through the streets during lunchtime.

49. The intense green foliage that suddenly emerges during the transition from the dry season to the rainy season.

50. Getting to know this country more thoroughly than any other country we have ever visited before.

Observations after one year. (From John)

It is hard to believe it has already been a year since we said, "hasta luego" (until then or see you later).

Being in El Salvador for a little over one year provides an opportunity to look back and take stock in our experiences and observations since arriving here. Here are some of las observaciones m������s llamativas (the standout observations, the most ���������calling��������� observations):

It feels like it has been much more than yet, at the same time, much less than a year since our arrival. Given how much we have seen, experienced and learned���������it feels like we have been gone for far more than one year. On the other hand, it feels like yesterday when we sped away from the San Salvador airport in that retrofitted school bus listening to the best of 80������s American pop music.

Learning a new language in our 30������s has been one of our most challenging, humbling, yet rewarding undertakings. After being ���������spoiled��������� for 30 some odd years of not having to worry too much about communication, new levels of patience and being able to accept ���������how things are��������� are demanded. Humbleness is delivered in the moments when I lack the ability to articulate things I can easily say in English. At times, I sort of feel like the child in this photo.

Nonetheless, there are other times when I do not notice we are communicating in Spanish���������clearly indicating our progress as we understand and are understood. Plus, it is just plain special to be able to connect with people from a different culture, who have completely different experiences.

Being here is a great and very rewarding opportunity to serve others where there are strongly felt needs. Our presence is welcomed. The warmth with which we are received and the benefit of the cultural exchange cannot be underestimated. If culture is local life adapted to its surroundings (credit to Wendell Berry on that definition), then we are here merely learning how one culture embodies being human in its chosen place and sharing how our culture does it back home. In being here to do that, we are the ones receiving most of this cultural exchange. As pictured below, Amber������s mom on a recent visit only had to express some interest in our neighbors horse before she was being hoisted up on it. ������Qu������ chivo! How cool!

To change themes a bit, I want to touch on our evolving view of international development work. One observation I have from being here one year is that successful development takes a long time��������� OK, that may not be earth shattering, but hear me out...

Many times we, as Americans, like a quick ���������turnaround time��������� on our investments. However, in the realm of development, there are so many long-standing constraints it just takes a long time to see results.

It is also easy to assume we should be working on very tangible ���������bricks and mortar��������� projects. After a year, however, I have seen how there is just as much if not more need for ���������soft-skill��������� projects to develop personal skills--time management, interpersonal relations or very basic organizational communication.

Swooping in and installing a potable water system in the country is possible in the short term. What happens, however, in 3, 5, or 10 years when the community that received this system lacks the social, business or civic infrastructure with the capacity to manage the system? Obviously, there will be problems.

So after one year--admittedly not a lot of time--I have come to see part of successful development as a slower more collaborative approach combining ���������soft skill trainings��������� with the ���������bricks and mortar��������� projects. True, the water system will be built later, but with such a more sustainable result.

Anyway, that is enough of my soap box. When you come down to it, it is great to be here. It is great to be learning and benefitting so much while being of service to others.

This might have been one of the coolest things we have ever experienced in our travels, at least ranking right up there with our visits to Machu Picchu and Easter Island. During a recent trip to La Antigua, Guatemala, we took the very popular tour up Volcan Pacaya in order to see the active lava flows (flujos de lava). The whole area was a bit surreal as we walked, carefully, on cooled and hardened lava which was somewhat brittle and rested just on top of live lava. The whole area was full of waves of mist and, at times, sulphuric gasses. And absolutely no color, except for the bright red lava, which we could see under the surface of the cooled volcanic rock.

But while we were in this area, we were fortunate to see a great mass of lava surface to the top (see photo). It was incredible. And so very hot! There were some parts the area that I just couldn´t walk through because of the heat.

We could only imagine the great forces of nature present to create this hot substance -- literally melted rock. Naturally, we later roasted marshmallows over another, less dangerous, section of lava.

This was truly an amazing experience.

My niece������s 5th grade class (Hi Chloe!) recently asked what kinds celebrations traditions or celebrations exist in El Salvador.

Grrrreeeeaaaatttt question, because part of living in another country is learning about and taking part in their holidays and traditions. One tradition we just took partake in is the Day of the Cross or D������a de La Cruz, a day in which households put up a cross in their house and decorate it with all kinds of things such as fruit, flowers, paper cut-outs and candy. Pictured below is a cross diplay in a local restaurante.

Many cross displays include���������nidos��������� or nests made out of paper���������

Also included are the ���������gallitas���������, little candies in the shape of little chickens���������

Part of this year������s festivities included a tour of crosses at a few restaurants that were competing for the honor of having the best display. Judges were chosen from some of the city������s and country������s important people such as a mezzo-soprano opera singer, a representative of the culture ministry and a nun. Also on the tour was the mayor, the reigning beauty queen of our town, and the marching band of the local high school.

At each stop, the judges made comments about the cross display, a prayer was said and then the marching band unleashed with a festive song. The band is pictured below patiently enduring the mid-day heat of El Salvador outside of one competing restaurant before they play.

The day ended with a folkloric dance in the plaza central. All-in-all, a very culturally rich day. ������Qu������ chivo! How cool!

There aren´t a lot of jobs here in El Salvador. And the ones that exist don´t pay a lot. Just as a point of reference, gasoline here currently costs over $4 a gallon while the minimum wage is about $180 a month.

With all the people that don´t have jobs here, I am sometimes surprised that I don´t encounter more panhandlers in the streets. Perhaps the lack of disposable income here makes asking for money not a viable prospect. Or, more likely, people prefer the dignity associated with work.

And unemployed people in El Salvador work HARD. Most become street vendors, selling small items such as hard candies, fruit and vegetables, toys, hammocks, clothes, DVDs, etc. These vendors constitute a big part of the very large informal economy (economía informal) that exists in El Salvador and throughout Central and South America.

I was reading recently from a economist who studies Latin American economies about how the growth of the informal economy might be illegal in many ways (for example, vendors don´t collect sales taxes, aren´t registered as merchants with the government, and often disregard copyright laws—such as is the case with selling pirated DVDs), but they are extremely vital to the economic life of the region. Unable to find paying jobs on their own, these vendors have taken matters into their own hands in order to earn needed income. While some parts of the informal economy are indeed dangerous (such as prostitution and drug dealing), the greater percentage of self-made vendors actually aid the national government by lessening the debilitating effects of a high unemployment rate.

Vendors here in El Salvador are a common sight and usually have three modes of operation. First are the bus vendors. They spend all day hopping from bus to bus to bus to bus, selling any number of candies, fruits, and softdrinks as well as coloring books and natural medicines. Some make infomercial-style pitches at the head of the bus while most simply pass through the aisles looking for a sale. I sometimes wonder how each vendor maintains such enthusiasm in his/her voice to advertise something so mundane like marshmallows or pencils. Perhaps the prospect of a little bit of money is all that is needed.

Second are the vendors that have stands (or puestos) that they set up on the sidewalk or in the street and sell from these fixed locations. This can often create chaotic and dangerous congestion when many vendors take over the sidewalks, forcing pedestrians to walk on the sides of busy streets. This is most common in the larger cities. In our town, however, I mostly notice the women sitting at their stands all day, in the blaring heat, and I wonder how they can pass the whole day just sitting there. Mothers of young children keep their babies outside with them all day at their puesto, either in a stroller or, if they are lucky, in a small playpen.

Third, other vendors sell their wares from house to house. At our office, we might have vendors stopping by to see if we are interested in buying a backpack or sliced mangos, for example. The door-to-door vendors that sell hammocks and clothes I have great sympathy for because they carry an extraordinary amount of heavy cloth with them everywhere on such hot days (most days here are in the 90s). In the past month, a former neighbor about 10 years old has started coming by our house and office to sell us cashews. He has always been a vendor, but I realized that I hadn´t seen him outside lately in his school uniform. “¿Asistes a la escuela?”, I asked him. (Are you going to school?) He replied, “Ya no.” (Not anymore.) Then I remembered that his mother recently had a child, and my young friend was likely forced to quit school as a result so that he could sell cashews for the family full time. With poverty, long-term objectives are often sacrificed for short-term needs.

Whatever the circumstances of these vendors´ lives, I know this: They work hard doing what I would find to be thankless work. But they do it. And I realize that my purchases from street vendors have a bigger direct impact on their lives than my purchases at the supermarket. For this reason, John and I find ourselves more and more these days finding a reason to buy something from a street vendor.

A few days ago, John was talking on the phone with someone in Spanish. I was in earshot and heard him finish a sentence with “creo yo.” This literally means “believe I” but is better translated to “that is how I understand it.”

John´s use of “creo yo” was a small victory (pequeña victoria) because each time we add these little small expressions (especially the ones that don´t translate so exactly into English), we sound a little more natural and little less like children. When we hear such an expression, we try to tuck it into an easily accessible part of our brains so that it can be retrieved with little effort when we find an opportune moment in a conversation to use it. Easier said than done, so these small victories are really big ones to us. When John ended his conversation, I congratulated him on the use of “creo yo” (an expression that I have not yet been able to retrieve quickly enough to use), and he appreciated my recognition of it.

But here´s the thing. We are the only ones that notice these little victories. To everyone else, they sound natural so there is no reason to notice them. If a non-native English speaker were to say to you “That makes sense,” that expression might be a small victory to that person, but to you it would not sound very noteworthy. Several months ago, when we were trying get comfortable with the subjunctive verb tense, John found an opportunity in conversation to use it and did so effectively. Then he asked the person we were talking to (in Spanish), “Did you notice my use of the subjunctive tense just now?” She had not. “What is the subjunctive tense?,” she asked. To her it just sounded normal, so why would it be noticed? We soon realized that any grammatical or expression victory we had would only be truly appreciated by ourselves alone.

Knowing that we need positive feedback, we now rely on ourselves to find the small victories and recognize them. Yesterday, I was able to use a combination of the imperfect subjunctive verb tense with the conditional verb tense. I mentally devoted part of the batch of cookies that I made today to that successful sentence.

Plaza centrals are just great.

It has various incarnations throughout the day as well as the week.

There is the morning incarnation when the plaza is busy with the daily preparatory activities such as the shop keepers sweeping in front of their stores with palm tree branch brooms, women carrying corn on their heads to or from being ground at one of the molinos (grinding machine), uniformed kids walking to school or weirdo gringos (me and Amber) running through the plaza exercising.

The worst incarnation is that of the late-morning to mid-afternoon. With minimal shade trees in the plaza and being located only 13 or so degrees north of the equator means it gets HOT and BRIGHT during the mid-day. The plaza is especially empty at this time of the day, as pictured below. ������Hace calor!

The plaza is of course event central for the town. It makes a great location for just about any event such as fireworks, beauty pageants, speeches, comemorations band competitions, wining and dining of outside dignitaries and so on. The shot below was taken at a fancy dinner for central american tourism officials.

My favorite time is the evening, around 5 to 8PM or so. Convivial, pleasant, somewhat bustling and more or less the place to be...

Kids can be seen twirling around the lampposts, staring in the central fountain (pictured in the photos above and the last photo of this entry) or chasing soccer balls around the plaza. Meanwhile, people from teenage to senior citizens age sit in the park benches chatting it up.

The artisanal shops provides a little bustle and one shop owner plays music that blends nicely into the ambience���������robust enough to make the evening festive but not imposing prevent people from carrying on their conversations or having their own experiences.

Many locals have dinner for under a dollar at one of the three pupuser������as ringing the central plaza. A coffee shop and a restaurant serving Salvadoran food with a gourmet touch are haunted by the gringos or other out-of-town Salvadorans who might be visiting. And every so often, you may have some live bands to enjoy like this one below entertaining in "the portal", the covered sidewalk that rings the central plaza....

All together, it is a great place to come, relax and get caught up with people you have not seen for a bit or just to watch life occur.

Sometimes I am unexpectedly reminded of the differing ways of life that you often find in the developing. Slick, modern malls in one part of the city. Two miles down the road, rural life with no running water.

And sometimes those worlds overlap in small, but funny ways that simply add variety to your daily observations. Two examples:

1. The other day John and I rewarded a hard workout at the gym in the capital with a trip to Mr. Donut. I have no idea why it is named this. It is a Salvadoran chain restaurant that serves Salvadoran food and pastries (there is a donut or two in there, but it is hardly a donut shop.) It is more like the Salvadoran version of Big Boy. Nothing fancy, but a professional establishment, nonetheless.

In Mr. Donut, John savored his Manzana Crunch (sort of like an apple fritter) and I enjoyed a Alfajor (an Argentinian sandwich cookie filled with dulce de leche). On our way out, we passed several booths of customers eating. One in particular had a nylon bag sitting next to it. As we passed by, I glanced down and saw that within the bag were 2 or 3 live roosters!

2. In our town, we host an annual month-long arts festival in February full of musical concerts, art exhibitions, films, etc. This February, the highlight of the arts festival program was the concert given by four singers from the Mexican National Opera. That night in our town was full of well-dressed locals and out-of-towners. As well, John and I dressed our best for the occasion (see photo above). The main plaza was full of activity as all the opera goers enjoyed dinner on the square. In the midst of all this lovely ambiance, and in the midst of all these well-dressed people in the plaza, two stray cows who escaped from their home and non-chalantly meandered into the central plaza, creating quite a sight as everyone cleared a path from them and then tiptoed around their footsteps, careful not to ruin their nice shoes before the opera performance!

Sometimes I think Spanish is more complicated than English. Then there are times when I think English is way harder to Spanish. Right now, I am thinking the latter.

One of the great things about Spanish is that the pronunciation of letters and the spelling of words is, for the most part, consistent. This enormously helps a visual learner like myself. When I hear a new word, the consistency of Spanish´s pronunciation and spelling allows me to immediately picture the word in my head. And if I can see the word in my head, chances are that I can also see its latin root that will often reveal the word´s meaning.

For example, a friend who was out of sorts one day said to me, "Estoy despistada." The first part (estoy) means "I am," but I was unfamiliar with the second word. But being able to see the word in my head enabled me to see the two distinct parts: "des" which is a negative prefix like the english prefixes "un" or "de" or "dis," roughly translating in both languages to "off" or "not". The second part "pista" I knew to mean "track" in Spanish.

So literally, my friend was saying to me something like "I am off-track," but in English we would say something like "I am absentminded" or "I am not with it." Of course, the last component to understanding a new word is context. Does your translation make sense with the situation at hand? A quick look at my friend´s facial expression confirmed that she probably hadn´t had her coffee yet. She was understandably "not with it."

But I wouldn´t have understood any of this if I hadn´t been able to see the word in my head and identify the word roots. And I wouldn´t have been able to see the word if the spelling and pronunciation of Spanish was as crazy and chaotic as it is in English.

We take English spelling and pronunciation for granted. We grow up with the language. We learn the rules and then we learn where to break them. For example, we all know that "i before e, except after c" rule. And then we learn the exception to that rule is in words that "sound like 'a' -- like 'neighbor' or 'weigh'."

But how does that rule -- and its exception -- explain a word like "height"?

Or how does it explain when the "ie" does come after a "c" like in "species"?

For English speakers learning Spanish, our source of struggle is the seemingly endless verb conjugations (about 70 different forms for every verb). For Spanish speakers learning English, the source of difficulty is in something that we often take for granted as native speakers: the spelling and pronunciation. Many Salvadorans want to learn English as this skill can open up better job opportunities. In order to learn a language though, you have to make sense of it. But many times, English makes no sense (no tiene sentido). To our Salvadoran friends, I am at loss trying to explain things like:

Why height and weight are spelled nearly identical and are so closely related in meaning (both having to do with measurements), but are pronounced differently. Just looking at the words, one would think that they should rhyme.

Why the same is true for other words like trough, though, and tough. Why is the "ough" pronounced three different ways in three similarly-spelled words?

Or why some words sound the same but are spelled differently, like: bear, share, air, heir, prayer, and where.

I have never thought about English as much as I have now that I am speaking Spanish. Now, not only am I glad that I didn´t have to learn English as a second language, but I admire greatly all the people that have been able to do so.

Schools and more

The following are answers to more of the many questions asked by the 5th grade class of Dodge Intermediate School in Twinsburg, Ohio.

My niece Chloe attends school there. Hi Chloe!

������ What kind of education system does El Salvador have?

The public education system here is similar to that in the United States. Students attend public schools to which they live fairly close and they have a ���������summer break��������� of about two months, which, believe it or not, is in November and December! Also, like in the USA, they love their marching bands here. One is pictured below performing in a band compeition.

The school day is shorter here than in the USA. Kids only go to school for only about half a day. One shift of students goes until about 12 noon and then the next shift goes until about 5. And this includes a long recess. Graduation from high school typically comes at age 16 after two or three years of what they call bachillerato (pronounced, batch���������ee���������yer���������RAH���������tow). The more general high school takes three years and the more specialized, trade-oriented high school is two years.

I love walking by the schools during the days and seeing the kids playing soccer during recess in the basketball courts. Yes, that means they play on a really small ���������field��������� of concrete. Accordingly, they use small goal posts that fit under the basketball hoops that go pretty much unused.

I suspected if I were to play soccer, I would get wooped up on, but I would totally ���������school��������� them on hoops���������

���������L������stima!��������� (pronounced, LAHS���������tee���������muh, which means, it������s a shame or darn!), I do not have time during the day to play with them���������

������ What time is the time zone compared to Ohio?

At this time of year, El Salvador is only one hour behind that of Ohio. Today, we received a text message from Amber������s mom at 6:30 AM. Given the time difference, it was 7:30 AM in Ohio when her mom sent the message.

True, that is awful early to send a message, but it was her first text message ever, so she was excited to show off her new skills!

It would seem like there should be a larger time difference. After all, we are ALL THE WAY OVER in Central America. But if you look at a world map, you will see that El Salvador is more south of the USA than it is East or West.

������ What kind of electronics or other games do they have in El Salvador. The kids saw soccer was popular in our pictures.

There are not too many electronic games here. The only ones I have seen are on peoples cell phones, which are quite common.

While cell phones are common and ipods are somewhat common in the capital, we do not see many electronics here. This is an issue of economics. Electronics are luxuries, and families cannot really afford such luxuries. As a result, physical activities such as soccer are very popular, especially soccer in the streets. They are serious about soccer here. As shown in the photo below, if the ball goes down into a stormwater drain, no problem, just go get it.

What kind of clothes do kids where? The kids in the USA noticed that the kids������clothing shown in our photos is similar to that of kids in the USA.

The clothes kids wear here are surprisingly similar to that of kids in the USA. American culture here is quite strong because of the strong connections between our two countries.

Many of the number one songs here are American. I do not go a day without hearing an actual American song or one redone with flutes and no lyrics. Also, I do not go a day with out seeing DVDs with American movies for sale on the street.

In fact, the most popular movies here are American. Most are ���������dubbed��������� over in Spanish, and it is interesting to see the translations of the titles. For example, ���������Finding Nemo���������, is ���������Buscando Nemo���������, which translates directly into ���������Looking for Nemo��������� as opposed to actually finding him. Although, the movie is really about looking for Nemo. He is not ���������found��������� by his dad until late in the movie, so I like the translation.

"¡Había un murciélago en nuestro cuarto anoche!"

(There was a bat in our room last night!)

The first time I said this shocking statement to a Salvadoran friend, she looked at me, unphased and a little perplexed. The bat had climbed through the space where the walls meet the roof. I had felt the fluttering of its wings over us while we were sleeping. Ick! The way Salvadoran houses are constructed -- where the roof is seemingly set down on top of four walls -- there is often a gap between the wall and the roof, allowing all sorts of critters to become your roommates. Add to this, most Salvadoran houses sort of just open up onto a courtyard, so the idea of defined inside and outside spaces as we know them in the US (heaven forbid, for example, that we have a drafty window) don´t really exist here. (In fact, our windows don´t have glass in them.) So there are plenty of opportunities for those bats to say "su casa es mi casa."

"Todo el mundo tiene murciélagos en sus casas," my friend said to me. (Everyone has bats in their houses.)

She was right. Everyone lives with bats. It can´t be avoided. Sure there are some measures that are taken, such as putting up strips of aluminum foil near the wall/roof gap (the glare supposedly frightens them) and installing ceiling fans (creating an environment too dangerous to fly in), most people just accept them at some point. Our bat kept us awake for about two weeks, sitting in that wall/roof gap and chirping like crazy -- like a very loud cricket. Every now and then he flew into the room and, once, he landed on a strap attached to John´s backpack and promptly fell asleep (see photo above). We couldn´t wake him up at all. Finally, we set the backpack with him attached outside until he went away on his own.

John came up with the solution to our murciélago visitor. He began stuffing plastic bags into the gap between the roof and wall, which completely filled the space and left no room for our friend to enter through. Way to go, John!

Then we moved.

A new house. A bigger space. A new gap between the wall and the roof. And baby bats! A nest of two or three baby bats live in that new gap. I see them sticking their little wings over the sides and moving about.

But something has changed between our first bat visitor and our new baby bats. In short, I am used to them. Like my friend said, everyone lives with bats. The two performing arts spaces we have in our town have bats in them. I have watched plays and dances with bats fluttering above the performers´heads. Last weekend, we had the opera in town. The bats flew around and chirped right along with the singers. Ok, so maybe the bats aren´t the fine arts patrons that I have grown to think of them as, but its safe to say that I am accustomed to their presence. So, instead of figuring out ways to keep the bats out of our new house, I simply said "Look, John! We have baby bats!" And now when we walk through the room that houses their nest, we both look up to the gap between the wall and roof to see if we can find a little winged arm poking out over the side.

I remember the first time my definition of ���������poverty��������� (pobreza) was shaken. On our first trip to South America, we visited Peru and saw housings conditions as I had never seen before: one room houses made of dried mud. A hole in a wall constituted a window, which was, when needed, filled in with more mud bricks to keep the heat of the sun out. The roofs were made of either sticks or sheet metal, which was weighed down with bricks to keep it from blowing off in the wind.

The truth is, though, I had seen more extreme poverty than this, but only on the television. And, as much as we might hate to admit this, television images do very little to stir our emotional recesses. We watch them numbly and move on. Only a few times has a painter or photographer presented poverty that has shaken me in the way that seeing Peruvian poverty did, making me realize that I had thought was poverty by US standards suddenly needed severe editing. It was an impressionable experience, and one that I can link directly to the path that led me to El Salvador.

Like Peru, El Salvador also has a lot of poverty. Homes are of modest size, but packed with several family members. In the US, the largest number of people that I personally know that occupies one house is six (two parents, four children). And their house is a large suburban home, capable of providing everyone with their own bedroom with room to spare. Here for instance, a friend of ours ��������� a professional ��������� lives in a home about a third the size of a US suburban home with eleven other family members. Families often share space to save money.

Remesas (remittances from the El Salvadorans in the US) have improved the quality of living conditions for many in El Salvador. But certainly not for all. Access to safe, continuously running water is limited. (For our first 10 weeks in El Salvador, John and I lived in a home where water only flowed three days a week, and for only 2 hours on those days.) Plumbing and trash collection services are also limited. Housing materials range from the solid (concrete and adobe) to the fragile (sheet metal and mud bricks).

I admit that like television images, seeing low standards of housing in person day after day leave me unable to feel the emotion that I first felt in Peru. But then I passed a scene outside of San Salvador that, once again, took my breath away and made me completely reconsider what I thought poverty was.

There in the large expanse of treeless, grassless and roadless land, a shantytown began to form before my eyes. Every time I took the bus past this area, more and more shacks popped up. I have seen slums before, but these houses were unlike anything I had ever encountered (seen in these photos). Cardboard boxes, tarps, plastic sheets. These are the materials of construction used in this new development. The waste products of our daily lives are now housing people ��������� at least a thousand of them. Add to that that there is no running water, no plumbing, no toilets, no electricity, no trash service, no shade from the blaring sun, etc. As if this wasn������t enough, the town sits on top of a covered landfill. It������s all you can do to wonder what forces combined to bring these people, in our day, to living conditions such as these.

Surprised that I hadn������t heard anyone talking about this new shantytown, I began asking questions. What happened? Where did these people come from? What happened to their other homes? Why isn������t anyone doing anything about this? In my mind, it is one thing to see a rundown area that is several decades old. The path to decline was likely a slowly evolving one and, therefore, less of a shock. It is another thing to see a slum from its inception.

There is less shock and outrage here over this new development. Afterall, extreme poverty is nothing new to this part of the world. It is simply more of the same to many people. I have heard various stories about how this new slum came to be, none of which I can verify. One story has it that these people had bought a lot of the land they are now on in a bad business deal. The supposed owner turned out not to own the property at all and fled with all their money. Though the residents don������t own the land, they have nonetheless moved onto it, with nowhere else to go. Another story theorizes that one of the political parties gave this land to poor people that share their party affiliation so that they would vote for this party in the next election. In the end, all of this is speculation. What is known is that millions and millions of people in our world live in conditions such as these.

Whatever the reasons, whatever the story, my thoughts are with these unfortunate people. I am thankful for all that I have, all that I take for granted, and I am hoping that I will never grow numb to seeing people living in such dire conditions.

When so many things change in your life, you naturally and unconsciously defend those things that you can in some way keep the same. This is important because as much as you want to grow through all these changes, you still want to be able do activities in which you to recognize core parts of yourself. This is why I run. (Por eso yo corro.)

Those that know me, even a little, might recall the disproportionate importance that running has played in my life over the past six years. When John and I first competed in the Cleveland Clean Air-a-Thon 5K in 2002 and, to our surprise, took first place in our age groups, it was like we discovered a hidden expertise that needed little refinement, but simply a space to express itself. And space was given, wholly and completely, to running in our lives. Waking up at 4:45 am to hit the gym each morning, training for marathons, spending large sums of money on running shoes and high-performance apparel, subscribing to Runner´s World magazine, nursing injuries (including John´s famous leg break of 2003 – yes, his leg is fine) … whatever the sacrifice was needed, we made it. We became runners. And today I count this label as a key part of my identity. As such, only other runners can truly understand why I might also place my 2006 Thanksgiving Day 10K 42:38 time, which placed me third in my age group out of 600+ competitors, as one of the highlights of my life so far.

But non-runners too have had the empathy to inquire about how I would continue to run in El Salvador, knowing that this identifier as a “runner” would be important for me to maintain (similar questions have been asked about me maintaining a vegetarian lifestyle, which has been no problem). The prospects looked dim when after two weeks in this country I landed on a rock during a morning run and sprained the heck out of my ankle. This put me in crutches for three weeks and suspended my running for six, the longest period of time that I had taken off running since a summer abroad in Italy in 1997. Perhaps it was good that this accident happened so early in our time here because there were so many new things to adapt to that I had little time to get restless. Surprisingly, I handled the layoff better than expected, but when I was cleared to run again, I was out on the roads as soon as possible.

I´ll be honest though. If running weren´t so important to me, if I didn´t identify with it so strongly, if the simple act of it didn´t make me feel like I have salvaged an important part of myself after having conceded change in so many other ways, I might give up running in El Salvador. It is extremely difficult here. In the States, because we ran so early in the morning (before daylight), I did the vast majority of my running on a treadmill. And I am here to say that I love the treadmill. All the information you need – pace, time, distance, and incline – right at your fingertips. No worrying about (hello…) stepping on a rock and spraining your ankle. No excessive heat or cold, etc, etc. Some people find it boring. I equate it to meditation in motion. Once your stride is in tune to the treadmill and your breathing is in tune to your exertion, it is absolutely hypnotic. I could write a sonnet to the treadmill, and maybe someday I will.

Expectedly, I have no access to a treadmill in my town here. (I do have access to one in San Salvador, though it takes me nearly 3 hours on bus to reach it.) Therefore, I run outside. I really have no problems with running outside. Indeed, I love the early morning hours here in El Salvador. There´s a relaxed but bustling sense of purposeful activity, a sense of promise for the coming day, a variety of smells and sounds unique to this time, and a common bond that is felt with others who for one reason or another are up and about at the wee hours of the morning. Unfortunately though, the conditions for outside running here are difficult. I submit the following:

Cobblestone streets that are just waiting to sprain my other ankle. We only have one paved road!Sidewalks that are obstacle courses within themselves, changing into steps, ramps, and three foot drop-offs without a moment´s notice.Public buses that belch thick black smoke. My very mild asthma in the US is a significant problem here.Burning trash or yard waste in the mornings. (Many pueblos might not have trash pickup services and, thus, trash burning or burying is the only option. Our town has a good trash pickup system and, as a result, burning trash is illegal here. But yard waste burning is common in the mornings.)Piropos. These are catcalls, and every woman in El Salvador is subjected to them. I struggle greatly with these. After a morning run, a series of piropos can bring me to low emotional points before I have even started my day.Stray dogs. At least once a week, a crazed dog gives me chase, barking and growling the whole way. I have to gather all my courage, remember the rabies vaccination that I have received, and turn to face down the dog in order for it to stop. So far, this has worked which is good because I have yet to come up with a Plan B.

But as we say in Spanish, por otro lado (on the other hand), running outside in El Salvador brings small surprises and unexpected pleasures that running in the States never gave me.

The opportunity to run through a herd of cows. There´s a farmer that walks his herd of 20-30 cows on the paved road (stopping all traffic) to a nearby pasture for morning grazing. I literally try to time my run to encounter this herd every morning. I love running through the cows.Scenic views of mountains (during sunrise!). Our hilly town is surrounded by mountains and you never know what view a new street will give you.Getting revenge on the roosters. Contrary to popular belief, roosters begin calling out about 2 am (not at daybreak). Thus, I have cumulatively lost weeks of sleep to them. I get a sense of satisfaction when the roosters along the sides of the roads get scared because they think I am just going to run them over. Run away, rooster, run away!Running faster than a horse. I run at the same time that farmers are heading out to the milpas (cornfields) on horse. It´s not as if the horses are running, just trotting, but still it feels good to run faster than them.Listening to NPR. John and I download a zillion podcasts from NPR, PBS, BBC, and the Council on Foreign Relations. I never listened to music or anything when running in the States. But here, I find it a great way to keep up on international news and/or good cooking shows like Splendid Table. Sometimes the strange satisfaction I get from, for example, listening to a full hour lecture by the Prime Minister of Turkey before going in to work is enough to counteract the aforementioned frustration of the piropos. I love you iTunes.Perfect running weather year-round. Yes it gets hot here, very hot, but in the early mornings, the temperature is just right (even a little brisk) for running.Being a semi-celebrity. Though we live in a pretty large municipality, there´s a large percentage of people in our town that know me simply because I run. While at the pharmacy the other day, the salesclerk asked me “¿Por cuanto tiempo corre en las mañanas?” (How long do you run in the mornings?). I am sure that I am known as that Gringa-Who-Runs by many, but it is an easy way of introduction to our community.And for those of you who run or walk outside regularly, you will understand that these activities afford you the absolute best way of knowing every detail of a place. At times I am thankful that my nearest treadmill is 3 hours away because I know my town´s sights, smells, and sounds so much better as a result.

(From John) Here are some answers to some questions (algunas preguntas). Specifically, they are answers to just two of the many good questions asked by the 5th grade class of Dodge Intermediate School in Twinsburg, Ohio where my niece attends school.

Hi Chloe!

What kind of government does El Salvador have?

El Salvador has a democratically elected government with a president who is elected to a five year term (one year longer than the presidency in the USA). El Salvador has a Legislative Branch called The National Assembly which is similar to Congress in the USA. However, in El Salvador, The National Assembly has only one chamber. In the USA, Congress has two chambers, the Senate and House of Representatives. The 84 members in the National Assembly serve 3-year terms. El Salvador also has a Supreme Court as we do in the states. The next level of government, the smallest, is the city level. There are 262 municipalities in which mayors are elected to three year terms.

Since the country is so small���������it is only the size of Massachusetts���������it does not need other jurisdictions of government like we do in the USA. For example, there really are no states or counties within El Salvador.

What kind of pets or other kind of animals do people have?

People have pets here for different reasons than in the USA. In the USA, a big reason we keep pets is for companionship. Here, pets are kept mostly for some type of basic function. For instance, some farm animals are kept for the food they provide. Horses are kept for transportation purposes. Dogs are sometimes kept as watch dogs and some people keep cats to prevent rodents such as rats or mice.

One reason that people have pets mainly for functional reasons is that El Salvador is still primarily an agriculture country (for instance about 8 out of 10 people in my municipality live in rural areas). As a result, many people keep farm animals. (for example cows, such as the the cow pictured below that belongs to the family of one of our co-workers). Therefore, it is not a surprise than that the sights, sounds (and smells) of these animals are part of our daily experience.

We wake up to roosters every morning. We hear turkeys and geese. We see cows where you would not expect to see them, like in the street or even one time in one of the city������s public parks. One night a large pig that got out of its pen followed us for a few blocks. And pictured below is a goat (cabra) that we came across during a walk one day and befriended Amber.

Another reason that people have pets mainly for some specific function and do not keep pets for companionship is that many people in El Salvador are poor. Many people can barely afford to put food on their table. As a result, having a pet for companionship is a luxury here that many cannot afford nor to which are they accustomed.

This difference in culture has been hard to adjust to, especially as it relates to dogs, some of which you have seen in our photos. The majority of dogs are strays, so they fend for themselves and do not get vaccinations like most dogs do in the States to prevent disease. As a result many dogs are skinny and sickly.

So those are some answers to some good questions. Take care.

Last month we took a trip to northern Guatemala for a conference. We stayed an extra day to explore the amazing Mayan ruins at Tikal. Below are some random observations (observaciones aleatorias) from our trip.

Death by Bus

Our 10 hour bus ride from Guatemala City to Flores was quite an adventure, due to our unique bus driver. He seemed to either keep himself awake during the wee hours of the nighttime bus ride or simply enjoy inducing a powerful adrenalin rush by driving like a madman. The bus was flying through the night at incredible speeds. Add to that a mountainous terrain full of twists and turns and a rainstorm, and I will tell you that I was more than scared for my life most of the evening. John and I were sitting in the front row on the opposite side of the bus driver. I was thinking ���������we are sitting in a good spot. If and when we crash, we will have an easy access to the door.��������� Then I realized that if we crashed we would be the first ones off the bus simply because, from where we were sitting right behind the windshield, our bodies would be hurled out the large window. This image kept me awake most of the night.

Many bus drivers in Central American ���������own��������� their busses, meaning that the vehicles in many ways reflect their personalities. And I love this! They are so much more interesting than public busses in the States. Vibrant images (including American flags), designs, and inspirational sayings decorate the interior. In addition, the bus drivers play a second role as DJ and you can be assured that every bus you ride on has a carefully selected playlist of music that represents the bus driver. Our bus driver for this ride through Guatemala had a very interesting selection of love songs that he blared over the speaker system well into the wee hours of the night/morning and sang along to with great passion. Since I couldn`t sleep, I decided to record the part of the playlist of songs that we heard. It������s classic. Someday I will make a mixtape of this list and forever remember this one bus ride through Guatemala.

It Must Have Been Love ��������� Roxette

I Will Be Right Here Waiting for Your ��������� Bryan Adams

Don������t Dream It������s Over ��������� Crowded House

I Ain������t Missing You ��������� Tom Waite

Loving You ��������� Minnie Ripperton

Nothing������s Gonna Stop Us Now ��������� Starship

I Can������t Live (If Living is Without You) ��������� Harry Nilsson

Arthur������s Theme ��������� Christopher Cross

Careless Whisper ��������� George Michael

Words Don������t Come Easy ��������� F.R. David

I Want to Know What Love Is (And I Want You to Show Me) ��������� Foreigner

If You Leave Me Now ��������� Chicago

When a Man Loves a Woman ��������� Michael Bolton

Please Don������t Go ��������� KC and the Sunshine Band

Say You, Say Me ��������� Lionel Richie

Tikal

The ruins of Tikal are simply amazing. They rank right up there for me with Machu Picchu. Imagine some three thousand Mayan structures that once formed an entire Mayan city. Then place all that within the Mayan Biosphere Reserve, an enormous area of protected rainforest jungle. I don������t know what was more impressive ��������� the ruins or the jungle. Maybe the best was the combination of both. You can climb up several of the temples in Tikal and from up there, you can see the vast track of uninterrupted rainforest jungle that seems to go on forever, punctuated only by the tops of other Mayan temples.

It������s been a long time since I studied Mayan art. I remember a little from that class in 1999, and I definitely remember reading the Popul Vuh (the equivalent of the Mayan Bible). As we were resting in Tikal (seeing this Mayan complex is exhausting ��������� it is spread out all over the place), I overheard a guide talking with a small group about Mayan achievements, history, and scholarship. It������s amazing the information that is locked in your brain waiting for a trigger to release it. Suddenly I remembered the famous decoding work of Linda Schiele ��������� and then the guide mentioned her name. Then, as he was discussing the Mayan calendar, that it was based on a cycle with a beginning and an end, the number 5,126 came to my head. Then the guide said it. This is the number of years that composed the Mayan concept of time. Then I remembered that the Mayan calendar is set to expire in 2012 (which will be year number 5,126) ��������� December 21, 2012 to be exact. Then I remembered that a classmate of mine and I proposed all those years ago to visit a Mayan ruin on that day, to witness the end of Mayan time (a Mayan apocalypse?) in an appropriate place. No doubt, thousands of others have this same idea.

Funny where your thoughts take you. I then remembered that it was in that same class on Mayan art and the Mayan calendar that I determined the date on which John and I should get married. The idea of time based on a cycle instead of a line was interesting to me, so I mapped out where a cycle in the timeline (or timecircle?) in our relationship might present itself. I found what I thought to be a natural cycle and chose the nexus of that cycle as the day as our wedding: April 19, 2002. I returned home from class that day and told John. Somehow he saw logic in my reasoning and three years later, we were indeed married on that day.

Welcome to the Jungle

There is something so strange and marvelous about seeing animals in the wild. I have grown used to seeing so many animals in zoos and pet stores that I find myself thinking of these places as their natural habitats. Tikal is set within the jungle and within the jungle are lots of animals. Wild animals. I found myself looking for barriers, cages, and information texts as if I was in a zoo. None were here in Tikal. What was once the home to a Mayan civilization is now home to the animals of the jungle.

We saw many animals including crocodiles, monkeys, toucans, parrots, and lots others that we just don������t know the names for. Monkeys are always fun to see. We found a whole group of them when one nearly defecated right on top of our heads! But perhaps my favorite animal to see in the wild were the toucans. They fly incredibly fast and they look so strange with that disproportionately large beak. They really are amazing creatures, and it was difficult to believe that I was actually seeing them. And then, suddenly, I had a craving for Fruit Loops. How difficult it is to let go of such strongly held associations.