I had forgotten how difficult it is to run in this country. Indeed, that was one of the first things that I was struck with upon returning to the United States: the ease of access for runners to do what they love.

To give an example, I need to hike roughly half a mile up a steep hill before I can begin my run here in site. I certainly can’t drive there as I might do at home. Then there is the question of the time of day to go running. Placing work schedules aside for a moment, there are only a certain number of hours in the day that I am able to go out: 12hrs of daylight (give or take), no daylight-savings time. Within that time frame, I must deal with the weather (rains all afternoon during the rainy season, sometimes throughout the day), dogs and people (often unfriendly and condescending respectively… maybe both?), and the terrain (mountainous, rocky and uneven, extremely muddy during the rainy season). Clothes and proper running shoes can also present themselves as something of a problem. Both tend to ware quickly out here, and clothes are dried out on the line, which can often take days during the rainy season. Translation: wet running clothes, whether from rain, sweat or both, tend to stay that way for quite a while.

Being back home was wonderful, because at any moment I could decide to get up and go for a run. It didn’t matter the hour. The streets are lit and close at hand, the weather and terrain more permitting, the clothes easily washed and dried. I can dry off and warm up quickly after runs, don’t have to hike to or from my route, and runners gear, (shorts, shoes, watches, internet resources, etc.) are all readily available. What’s more, the routes themselves are often designed with runners in mind, and the social culture in the country is such that it is at least somewhat acceptable for a person to use running as a form of exercise. To many here in El Salvador, the vary concept of “exercise” simply does not exist. They only “train,” as a professional athlete might train before an event, say, a soccer game. Your common man does not “train.” You are therefore something of a spectacle, for good or ill, and will have to endure more than your share of indignities.

Nutrition can be something of an issue as well, which I think is particularly true in my case. Because I eat with my host family for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, my diet is defined by what is both seasonally and locally available, and by the whim of those preparing the meal. Thus I often am left wanting of certain nutrients that might help me to recover more quickly, retain my energy and alertness, or build muscle. Often times, after the midday meal I will feel extremely sluggish and tired, due in no small part I am sure to the copious amounts of carbohydrates and starches in each meal, along with the high noon heat of the sun.

Travel is another challenge that can often complicate my intentions to run. It is admittedly more difficult to do any form of exercise while traveling, whether through the United States or to other parts of the world. Your standard routine is broken up or wholly ruined, and your are greeted by new and unfamiliar, perhaps even dangerous places. This is never more true, however, than here in Latin America. As part of being a Peace Corps volunteer I travel a lot, and here in El Salvador that means anywhere from a few hours to an entire day of travel in buses. The main highways are always crowded with traffic during the day and rarely have shoulders provided, only then when nearing a metropolis. Beyond that, the streets are further congested with street vendors, pedestrians, and stray dogs. Get off the main highway and you are lucky to find many paved roads. These roads can be just as dangerous as the highway if not more so because of their isolated nature. One can never take for granted that this country has the highest homicide rate per capita in the world due to its ongoing problems with gangs and drug trafficking.

That said, I must admit that despite all of these difficulties which conspire against an avid runner, they concurrently engender great returns for those who decides to overcome them. The scenery which abounds in many parts of the country is just another added perk. The topography of much of the country can only be characterized as hilly, the land laying across a fault line and littered with volcanoes, which can do wonders for strength and endurance training. And certainly the higher altitudes of my site have done much to help further my training results. It is something of a trade off then, gaining a little here, losing a little there.

In the end the run is what you make of it, and though it has been difficult the gains made from running have been significant.The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

I have been back in El Salvador for one week today and it has been a challenge, to say the least. I quite forgot the rough edges of day-to-day life that is the Peace Corps El Salvador experience. After being away from the cabin for more than 40 consecutive days it was in a state of messy disarray when I finally returned. In fact, my second night home, after coming back from my host family’s house after dinner, I interrupted a rather large rat inside the cabin perched on a shelf against the wall adjacent to the front door where I have all my bathroom finery. Wonderful, I think to myself as I hastily grab for some fatal weapon to duel with this intruding, pestilent fiend, having overcome the initial surprise of the unwelcome visitor. I later discovered a soap bar half eaten, left in its wake. It seems that soap has a rats version of cat nip stored within; they can’t seem to get enough of it. I found the remnants of two others the day before, eaten sometime during my vacation.

The weather has been depressing me further, with long, dark, rainy, and overcast days. It had rained three days consecutively since I arrived, another three prior to my arrival I had been told. The consequence: everything is wet, impregnated with mildew and rot or flirting with the idea, and mud scattered across cloths, floors, hands, and faces. This will take some getting used to, I think to myself.

I had done it all before, and with a light and enthusiastic air more times than not. But this time around my reactions are quite different. Fresh from the good life, surrounded by the abundance and comfort which characterizes so much of American life, my outlook on the situation is now admittedly colored, playing to a different tune. And I can’t help but wonder, why? Why have I come back. At once I feel very selfish and self-involved for pouting over my sudden (albeit planned) change in living circumstances. Carlos, a 16 year old in the community had recently lost a greater portion of his right thumb just last week after having caught it in a chain linkage while working in the field. How can I even begin to lament the difficulties of returning in light of the challenges Salvadorans daily face? It’s comforting really to reflect on our comparative realities, a humble reminder of how fortunate we are, a reservoir of strength to draw from. I’m okay, I say. I can do this…The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

The following are passages from a book I read recently, Road Fever by Tim Cahill. The book, published in '91, chronicles two mens attempt to break a world record for a 15,000 mile north-south drive from Tierra del Fuego, Argentina to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. I Thought some of his observations of the highway systems while driving through Latin America to be interesting and informative. I've added a bit of my own to clarify what I have seen, the particular peculiarities of the El Salvadoran road system.In South and Central America, there are still (road less) areas, or places where a cross-country road is nothing more than a path scraped out of the jungle.There are good drivers on the Pan-American (Highway), and there are bad ones. The rules of the road are informal, and it is assumed that a certain amount of blood will flow... Everyone has access to the roads. Businesses, rushing to take advantage of traffic on the Pan-American, literally line the road. Patrons in bars and cantinas could stumble out the front door and onto the Pan-American in a matter of steps...Theres really not that much in the way of side-streets or developed suburban areas. The only places for significant exchange of commerce away from city centers and their subsequent marketplaces are the roads, the only other place where there is an appreciable level of human traffic.People walk along the (shoulder-less) road because the jungle was thick in places, and , even on foot, the highway often (was) the fastest way to go. Sometimes the road was the only clearing, the only flat spot, and if there was little traffic- for instance, on the alternate route over the Mountain of Death out of San Jose, Costa Rica- people might use the road to work, to slaughter sheep, for instance.Actually, the roads are often used during harvest seasons for drying crops, corn husks and cobs, coffee bean or frijoles for example. Sheep aren't very common here, but its certainly not uncommon to see livestock ferried between ranges across the roads, usually cows, and distances between ranges can sometimes extend for miles. Slaughtering of animals, though not frequently seen on the roadside, is not unheard of. And roads serve as a major thoroughfare for pedestrians as well, simply because it is the most simple means of conveyance for many who are traveling small distances. The ground is flat and clear, full of others to run into, and for those living in roadside communities, right outside their doors.The Pan-American was a form of entertainment. Whole families- men, women, toddlers- stood on the side of the road, watching semis howl by two feet from their faces. Lovers walked hand in hand under the trees, on the pavement, in the darkness. Children dodged traffic for fun and kicked soccer balls to one another across the Pan-American.Late evenings, sections of road have been known to become almost entirely pedestrian. People come out to the road to congregate, for easter marches or funeral procession, for the Salvi's version of a block-party, or simply as the community meeting center in absence of a local town hall or church.In (Garry's) opinion, drivers on the Pan-American were very good indeed, and he thought that most of them possessed better skills than the typical North American driver.Joe and I objected to this. Drivers would consistently pull out to pass in the face of an oncoming car or tuck. Sometimes both vehicles pulled back into their own lanes simultaneously, inches away from death. Bumpers missed bumpers by feet, sometimes inches."People grew up driving like this," Garry shouted... "It's what they know," he bellowed, "this kind of driving is all they know, and their good at it. North American rules don't apply. They've got people driving vehicles at twenty miles an hour here, and if they pass safely- what we'd call safely- they'd never get anywhere. So everyone passes everyone, at any time. That bus back there? When we were coming at each other? He saw that I needed more room than he did and feathered back on the throttle. He was good. Different rules here, and if you know the rules, you can see how good the drivers are."Garry, I could see, was in a kind of ecstasy, his teeth bared against the sting of rain on his face. "Yeah," I shouted, "but how do you know that someone isn't drunk, a crazy macho, or suicidal?""Well," Garry screamed, "you usually have about ten seconds to decide."Through the inch or so of moving water on the glass (of the windshield) in front of me I could see the looming grill of a large truck as it peeled off into its own lane."These people," Garry howled, " are either good drivers or they are dead."What seems to many foreigners as utter chaos, is in fact a complicated and integrated system under which functions without many laws and virtually no oversight. Perhaps not as safely or as efficiently as it could, but functional all the same. In fact, the system of driving seems often to produce better drivers than most in the states. Driving is a luxury here, most are unable to afford it, and for many of that minority who do, its their job. More importantly, however, is that this is all they know , very much like their spoken language. In short, the roads are an adventure to travel, and they have their own confounding language to intemperate.

The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

COS (close of service) conference was held last month, the moment when those who intend to extend for a third year declare their offical COS date and those who are finishing their service begin the process of leaving the country and their communities. This has given me ample time for reflection on the work I have done here over the past two years, and my reasons for staying on for a third year. I will share with you some of those reflections and details on current projects so that you might get a better idea of what is happening in site today, and the typical work of a volunteer.

At the moment I am busy with a rabbit rearing project intending to teach community members the basic methods in raising rabbits for either consumption or sale, and the many benefits it provides: a means of secondary/domestic income where unemployment and underemployment are high, white meat with a low fat/high protein content, excellent nigtrogen/carbon rich excriment usefull as an organic fertilizer, rapid sexual reproduction (1 1/2 mths btwn litters), and low mantinance animals (2oz. food feed once daily, virtually soundless, clean animals when reared in cages raised from the ground.)

Aside from the rabbits project, my focus has been drawn to collection of funds for amplification of the current potable water system in the community and construction of composting latrines.

Currently, 16 of the 30 homes in la Joya are without a fixed potable waterline to their homes. Beginning in December 2009, after aquiring $500 for a small projects initiative through clearwaters.org, we constructed 30 "water boxes" in front of each home, water valves housed within reinforced cement boxes and locking tops such that service to each home can be shut off or turned on, depending on whether or not they pay a monthñy usage fee which goes towards the systems maintenance. This phase, phase one, will be completed at the end of February. The second phase, beginning in early April, concerns the formation and training of a Water Committee and repairs to all existing components of the system. The committee will be responsible for collection money for the monthly fees, maintenance of the system, and clorination/filtration of the water. Phase three, the final stage of the potable water project (dependent on the aquisition of funds amounting to $3k) will be the extension of the existing systems to the majority of the communtiy still without service anf thus left to draw from potentially contaminated water springs and creeks/rivers. The $3000 budgeted for this project is being solicited through the Peace Corps Partnership Program, which can be accessed through the organizations main web page. Posted in mid-February, this water porject can be found through a simple crossreferenced search using my name and country of service. The advantage of this is its transparancy, accessability and tax exempt status for all donations.

The latrines project is an effort to counter the problems inheirent with the existing pit latrines with are prone to flooding each rainy season when the water tables rise. Only 4 homes currently have composting latrines, which offer a number of advantages over pit latrines: perennial units (as opposed to pit latrines needing to be reconstruced every 7-10 yrs once filled), no threat of contaminant leaching into the soil or water table, and production of an extremely fertile compost soil. However, for many it is prohibitively expensive because of materials costs, often three times the price of a pit latrine. To build the remaining 26 latrines in the community, I have budgeted approximately $7000, solicited via the internet and friends and family through a 14 page project proposal. At the moment we have succeeded in collecting $4200, and are awaiting the final $2800 to start construction, preparing community members with trainings on proper use and maintenance of composting latrines in the interm.

It is for these projects, and other pipe dream projects, that I decided to extend for a third year. All the same, I have been at pains to remain motivated in light of all my friends leaving to begin the next chapter of their lives while I put my own plans on hold. I´m certain I´ll be happy with my decision in the future, but it is at the moment difficult to see in light of all that´s happening presently; and of course, thoughts of the future never seem to leave me with a moments respite...

The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

Well, it has been quite some time since my last entry, something which has been bothering me of late and towards which I now attempt to make ammends.

The following are just a few digital copyies of journal entries and poems I have written over the last few months. Its my hope that these will be of use to those few readers of this blog, interested in the details of life and living in "The Savior." Barring any latent catastrophies or laziness, I hope to post a few others soon which will ellaborate on that theme.

So I hope you all enjoy!

journal entry dated 10/26/09 A preferential option for the poor. A worthy pursuit for one’s life, a guiding force for one who cannot identify fully with with the profuse theos of the world, nor be fully satiated with the gaping uncertainties inherent in ology. Indeed, it has been startlingly refreshing and empowering to lend one’s self to such pursuits. Paradoxically, one might say, as I can’t imagine a struggle more difficult, a challenge more endemic and pervasive with suffering and grief, or so deeply entrenched, and ultimately, destined to fail. But if my experiences over the past 19 months have thought me anything, it is that eminent failure is no reason at all to stay some attempt against. Indeed, to think justly would be a self-fulfilling prophecy, as would political slothfulness for conviction that one’s voice is unable to incite change. Absurdly, we hope to indemnify ourselves from the suffering of failure, embarrassment; what ever it is that restrains our better selves. And in so doing, we succeed in nothing more than the perpetuation of suffering; a self fulfilling prophecy. Truly, as theos of the East contest, life is suffering. This is not intended for the masochists, sadists and pessimists, or a truism satisfying the dejected, despondent, or downhearted, to acquiesce defeatism or negativity, quite the contrary. Name some worthy (or for that matter, unworthy) pursuit in life and I will provide you with a catalog of pains to which one must submit in its attainment.journal entry dated 11/11/09 I was on medical brigade today in Carisal. By all accounts a relatively tranquil day, though the north winds began to pick up in the early afternoon, near about mid-day. In fact, poetically minded as I have recently been, these gusts seemed to me a rebuke to the early mornings beginning; a reminder of the perceptions of time and the speed (or languor) with which all things change. And a foreboding of things to come… An elder of the village, we were informed, had recently fallen ill and now lay bedridden and coughing flem. We ate a hasty late lunch, as is our wont on Tuesdays, before setting off to Señor’s home. Arriving, we were greeted by a cavalcade of family members, come form all directions on news of Señor’s convalescences. With taking of vitals and medical history, it soon became apparent that he had suffered a stroke, his entire right side paralyzed. It had been just 36 hours hence. He was also producing considerable sputum, which he more than once turned to spit from the bed to the floor beside him. There was a noticeable rasping wheeze with each labored breath. He had great difficulty speaking, much of the sounds he produced being unintelligible. On his face was the look of fear and depression, battling with a resignation to his last days on this earth. He was well into his seventies, and apparently had sufficient time in his waning years to consider his own death. We were asking him what he wanted to do: remain in his home, his community, which in his more youthful years had undoubtedly been loath to leave, and were he presently faced a near certain decline in health and death; or leave this modest house, go from the warming embrace of his considerable extended family which now crowded the room and looked down on him pityingly; place his life in the hands of a new and different world to him; forgo his fear of science and compartmentalize his faith in God, for a chance to improve his carnal condition. In the end, and after much cajoling and coercion, he conceded to be carried from his bed, shoeless and soiled as his children, nieces and nephews, grandchildren, brothers, mothers, sisters and fathers-in-law looked on. A proud man, strong in his youth, now prostrate to the indignities of age and infirmity. For he is not ready to die…

The Oppressed His Burden His life of pittances and hard toil Is of’t bereft of necessities met. But onward still he plods in persistence Phased not by grave challenges he ‘ever meets. He seems to retain some vague understanding Of the injudicious confines of his Life, which bare him up to the elements; Callous, cold, unfeeling, unforgiving. Nevertheless, he appears unconcerned As though resigned to the manner of his Paltry existence; habituated To the standards of so meager a lot. Indeed one might believe it to be so Were he not to consider their true plight, By nature imposed and by man maintained. As much by his fellow as by himself. For thus his burden will be recognized As a plant let to take root in poor soil, Resplendent with blooms or pride and beauty, Does soon fester in root and succumb To it’s end without intervention. Unwilling of itself or unable And without the support of it’s neighbor There is but little chance for survival. The loathed Visitor It is not but frenemy, as it were. Welcomed begrudgingly, as with all else. Known for decades well to the olds and wise, Having paid visit to their families Since time immemorial. And Children So curious to know their circumstances Of being, do soon come to learn about Their omnipresent neighbor, the reaper. It works not with malice, they know or soon Find, but with fate and odds it’s faithful dice. And they with scant resources to protect Or prosper, with nerves wrought of iron hard, Do make with a willful submissiveness All the rights of hospitality to it. Obliging their visitors dark shadow With but indulgence, and so with themselves. Condition We are told it is but Human. Collusion of the masses to tear down That which proves an obstacle to himself. Monitary amelioration, Jackles cavorting over shadowed carcass Only just aware of prey’s suffering/ Inured by isolated existence, Placated by natures distinct cycle, Wanting to stay their hand, if but for Exacerbation of his own creature discomforts…The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

Elections for deputados (similar to congressional representatives) and alcaldes (mayors) were last Sunday, January 18. It has been interesting to watch the democratic process here in El Salvador. Although structurally similar to elections in the States, it is disparate in practice. The voting body, though fragmented among a plethora of outfits, rests its majority between two main parties. The fmln,

Frente Farabundo Martí para la Liberación Nacional ...is a left-wing political party, formerly a revolutionary guerrilla organization. The (fmln) formed as an umbrella group in 1980 uniting 5 organizations - the Fuerzas Populares de Liberacion Farabundo Marti (FPL), Ejercito Revolucionario del Pueblo (ERP), the Resistencia Nacional (RN), Partido Comunista Salvadoreno (PCS) and the Partido Revolucionario de los Trabajadores Centroamericanos (PRTC).

Description curtasy of Lisa Kaplan, Peace Corps Country Director, El Salvador

; and ARENA, Alianza Republicana Nacionalista, was concieved late in 1981 during the civil war to counter the military juntas in power. With a right-wing conservative agena, the party has been in control of the presidency since 1989. There is also a popular distinction made, though fallacious, between fmln as homogonous with the US Democratic Party, and ARENA with the Republican Party, predicated by the conventional political spectrum of left liberal, right conservative.

As any country at the pinnacle of political activity, there is a lot of excitement. Nevertheless, this season is particularly unique in that the elections for presidential and local representatives fall within the same year. Deputados and Alcaldes serve a three-year term, while el Presidente y Vise-Presidente have elections every five years. What’s more, there is, according to numerous polls held both in country and with ES citizens in the US, a broad leftward swing with the majority vote in the Presidential elections, accrediting Marico Funes of fmln with as large as a 21-point lead over his competitor Rodrigo Avila of ARENA. Such speculations have gained steam following election results from local and departmental elections in which fmln claims to have gained 20 new municipalities and now tout the majority, appearing to have won 43% of national deputado elections. In Perquín, for instance, an area steeped in civil war history and considered an fmln stronghold, has reclaimed the mayoral offices after a three-year respite. The congressional seat for the department of Morazán, however, as remained in the hands of ARENA, as well as a return to the mayor’s seat at the countries capital, San Salvador. Therefore, although tempered with modest success country wide between both parties, the momentum seems to be on the side of fmln, leading up to the March 15 presidential elections, a little less than two months away.

Politics are a bit more raw and palpable here, with strong grassroots partaking. Parties (of which there are currently six, though this is subject to change) are view very much as we do sports teams in the States. One pitted against another, successes and failures enumerated by the amount of votes or seats attained as much as by policy. There are rallies held often across the country and range from the local to national level. They attracted supporters donning all sorts of party memorabilia: shirts, hats, flags, belts, and yes, even watches. Each party has their own songs, and cars fitted with loudspeakers, some resplendent with flashy paintjobs, prowling the streets disseminating their ideology and soliciting votes to anyone within earshot. All while enjoying their happy tune. I have seen marches, sometimes right along the street and at other times along the fringes, from the capital all the way to the remote corners of the country.

Paint wars are waged between neighboring communities who support opposing factions, painting lamppost, ramadas (awnings, usu. meant to wait for buses) homes, stores, and party offices. I have even seen phrases splayed across street lanes, just as you might expect to find “yield” or “turn only.” One area notorious for this is the Torola Bridge, crossing the Torola River situated northeast of San Miguel and the one major throughway northbound into the department of Morazán. Since beginning my two-year stint in May, I cannot tell you how many times I have seen the bridge repainted. Red with various political rhetoric in white for fmln; striped red white and blue for ARENA; at intermittent times yellow with red lettering for FDR, (more as reminder to the general public that indeed there are parties other than the two); then red with… oh, you get the point!

Requisite of Salvo life, trucks are regularly laden with scores of people from some such communities or other in transit to heaven knows where (I have more than once been a passenger of such convoys). Yet, at the height of the political season, it is common to see supporters of a particular party crammed, hodgepodge, into the back of one of these camiones, flags waving proudly and slogans vociferously rose, as if challenging distention. It can be disconcerting at times, as one may feel a boisterous unrest just beneath the surface. These moments, however, are rare, and, at least for me, are in no small part attributed to my presence as an outsider not fully accustomed to their particular standards of social expression. At times it seems I have the potential to become a menace to their proceedings, causing undo attention because of my status as an American and thus a physical representation of the policies of our country, and thus a potential target. It is as when a teacher looks over a students shoulder while he/she works, affecting anxiety and resentment.

To tell you the truth, I admire Salvadoran participation in politics, however disorganized or skewed it may seem at times. It should be something to envy and strive towards, the pains and earnestness with which they treat government. Barring historic social and/or political shifts, (e.g. Obama elected president), the majority of US citizens seem to have contended themselves to be lulled into indifference and inaction afforded by prodigal comforts. In so saying, I again realize the cyclic process of experiences here. Part of my purpose as a volunteer is to teach the people of my community skills, habits, and general knowledge to benefit their quality of life; and yet, by assimilation in order to achieve that goal, I in turn learn from their way of life as benefit and amelioration of my own.

Anticipation of change is in the air, simulated considerably by the innumerable challenges facing today’s world leaders and, of course, a black man’s ascension to command of the free world. On March 15, all will be made evident.

The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

Coming to you from PC office in the capital, I have been out of site for med visits for the last week and a half. On the bright side of things, I have been enjoying the many frills of San Salvador consonant of life in the US: catching up on e-mails and blog entries, eating foods not seen for some time, movies, CNN, newspapers... Oh! and getting healthy. On the down side, I have been passing in and out of town over the last week and a half, and will continue to do so for another week while I recieve physical therapy. I have found the quiet and seculded life of the campo decidedly agreeable, and though equally satisfying to enjoy the spoils of life in the urban world anew, it has been an operose reverse (micro) culture shock to be afronted with the noise and bussle of the more efficient/productive civil sectors. Whats more, travel is something of a hassle here, in my situation cheifly for the sheer distance and amount of time required to get from place to place.

I had sustained minor and localized inflamation to the left hand from over-use when working with machetes, shovels, pick-axe, etc. which I of course ignored. I have had symptoms of what has been afectionately called the "trigger finger" where the tendons risit motion about the knukle until enough pressure is exerted at which point the finger snaps with a "trigger" like clicking motion. Its possible to manifest these symptoms both by extending or contracting the fingers. My experiences, however, have accompanied contractions exclusively, likely because of the nature of the causitive injury: extended exertion in crasping objects. Though not particularly uncomftable, the persistance of this alment I liken to what your legs feel the day following a long hike. A dull discomforture radiating about the area, tight as if beggin to be streched.

By any streche of the imagination, this is no more than a minor injury. It has been an incouraging experience, then, to see exactly what level of care a PCV can come to expect. One backed with government medical attention need waste little time worrying about poor or insufficient care. That which I have been subject to, barring lower quality of the resources at hand, medicines or facilities in country, the staff and level of care are as near to that of the US one could hope to expect. Each doctor I have been to see, both general interist and physical therapist, seemed to me knowledgable and able. In fact each had spent four years in medical school in the states, and my physician had even interned in a US hospital. These doctors are by no means a reflection of the majority here in ES. Yet I have come to realize a more reserved veneration for the medical services of the third world, if only for specific and perhaps exclusive ssectors, as opposed to outright condiscention. I have had the opportunity to tour some of the national hospitals as well, and in spite of the less than disirous equipage and furnihings, the staff are likewise intellegent, passionate, and diligent individuals providing a level of care far and above what one might expect from mere appearance.

I expect to remain inacttive, with regards to heavy manual labor, for some time following the completion of PT while I allow time for all this to be sorted out. Furstrating as it may be, I will do my best to be reserved to more delicate ventures... if only for a while.The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

I started this blog with the idea that I could share some fun experiences with family and friends, and the hopes that some of the information here contained could be of use to other aspiring volunteers. With this spirit in mind I will make an effort to cover some of the most interesting details over the past two months, as I have neglected this page for some time (sorry). To be fare, it is rather difficult to make entries being as I live roughly an hour bus ride from internet and electricity. When I do make the trip and inevitably find myself in front of the computer screen updating myself with e-mails, international news and facebook, its difficult summoning the motivation to spend some time with blog entries. What’s more, I didn’t stray far from my site for the first month and was for all intensive purposes out of touch with the world. Cell phone service in site is patchy and causes dropped or missed calls if I am not at the signal “hotspots.” Buses only pass twice early in the morning on there way down the mountain toward town and twice in mid-afternoon, which involves a 40 minute hike to get to. This tends to create hassles when traveling great distances; one could spend a good portion of their day waiting for or riding in buses, pick-ups and trucks. Days with a ride from friends or hitch-hiking, although difficult and rather unsuccessful, can easily cut travel time in half. My community is quaintly situated in a shallow valley, teaming with pine forests and tributaries, or cebradas, which drain to a single main river that effectively splits the caseria in half. After completing a health and population census, I can tell you that we are numbered 170 inhabitants and 29 houses, for an average 7.8 persons per home. These houses, mind you, are no larger than 500 ft2. The community has three roughly equal parts, which I like to call northern river left, right and southern river. River right and south have 8 houses each, while river left accounts for the remaining 13 houses and for all intensive purposes is the town center. The health and sanitary status, though not extreme, is left lacking in many areas, particularly in personal hygiene, fecal waste disposal and consolidation, and air quality. Dental health is dismal. The main form of treatment is a single examination and cleaning once a year, [the term ”cleaning” used loosely here as it means a lightly soaked cotton swab with a fluoride gel]. More common, however is for tooth’s to be pulled out all together. [This will be a lengthy digression I realize, but I feel I must. I have become so infuriated with the state of dental health and cultural norms concerning it. Children don’t brush there teeth regularly, if at all through combination of laziness and lack of proper utensils. Parents further this by claiming they don’t have the money to pay for a tooth brush (25¢), tooth paste ($1.25-2.00) or simply reinforce this behavior by marching into dental offices or brigades and saying “my child’s tooth hurts, will you pull it out.” Notice no question mark, because though formatted as a question, it is a demand. Fortunately this seems true only for molars and perhaps premolars, while the canines and incisors are saved from outright execution by way of aesthetic reasoning… you only see the front teeth]. Hand washing is fair, though lacking; showering is made difficult by weather, particularly during the rainy season; clean mouths and noses can sometimes be neglected; nose picking is somewhat common and covering mouths when coughing is a foreign idea. Until the last five years, the community was without any form of waste disposal until local government finally stepped in, providing funds for the construction of pit latrines. Great right? Well, not exactly. In favor of pit latrines for simplicity of construction and lower cost, officials lacked foresight in considering possible problems. Hence, we now have more than 50% of houses using pit latrines inundated with water from high water tables during the rainy season. This, in turn, contaminates the water supply for those in the southern river section which is still without potable water lines and draws its water supply from springs, as well as all other communities downstream and its effects with environmental degradation. All homes use highly inefficient wood burning stoves which are indoors, all but one without chimneys. The smoke produced is considerable while cooking and poses a number of health hazards. Among common ailments in the community are sinus and lung infection which could be dramatically reduced with the implementation of clean burning fuels or at the very least, more efficient stoves with proper ventilation hardware. The challenges are many, unfortunately, but that’s what we’re here for! Projects I’m currently involved with are as follows: 1. formation of women’s committee 2. leadership and organization training for ADESCO, (local legislative board) 3. stove improvement 4. medical brigades 5. world map mural for local school 6. home gardening. Also planned for the future are potable water lines to those homes still without sanitary h20 and composting latrines. I’ll be sure to give more updates as these and future projects progress.The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

An update to all the ardent listener (of which I´m sure there are at least two) and appoligizes for the latent entries. Being that I have been without electricity for the past few weeks, I hope you´ll understand. I have been assigned to the same site I had visited for immersion day some month or so removed, [For those who may not have read previous entries or have forgotten its description refer to entry dated Apr 6, title: Immersed], and arrived in site Friday, May 9th. It´s been a relaxed two weeks hiking around the community, getting to know the people, odd jobs here and there, and of course, working on my Spanish.

My mornings generally start around around 5am, breakfast at 5:30-6. I usually like to sit down to a book after breakfast, usually spanish books, until 9 or 10, sometimes through lunch at 11:30 on the days without planned activities. After noon, with said fresh meal in stomach and the climbing heat of miday, its usually too uncomfortable to sit and read anylonger. I tend to get very sleepy in afternoons and thus find other things to occupy my time. For instance, before leaving training I bought a machete and like to use afternoons practicing with it. Actually I´m creating a stock pile of tree branches for a fence I plan to build, needed to protect a graden (also planned) from being eatten by local livestock, [to be covered in future entries].

On days where I have activites planned, either with my counterparts, meetings or work with people in the community, or meetings/errands outside the community, like today, stem from the slower days schedule after breakfast. I have had some wonderful opportunities thus far to work with the national health care agency, Fosalud, which has two public health nurses which come to the community for various health promotional activities. One of these Fosalud employees is a counterpart of mine, someone to guide me through the first few months here at site and to be one of my major contacts/collaborators with future work here.

Last week I accompanied My counterpart, two doctors, one nurse and secratary to a naboring village as part of a medical briggade. Once there, medical consults were given to the community for about six hours and consequent medications given. The entire operation was really rather simple, but what makes the whole thing special is that Fosalud makes these "brigada medical" trips every Tuesday to four differnt communities, all of which are in very scluded areas with no other means of medical attention. Each of the four communities are rotated such that each is visited once a month. I was extatic when they aksed if I would like to come along on future trips.

Typically lunch is served around 11:30-12pm, though that can strech as far into the afternoon as 2 depending on how bussy you might be. I am often times away from my host home during lunchtime and therfore find myself being fed at other houses in the community, (something very common here as a general show of hospitality). Actually, on such occations I have been know to come away with as many as two or three lunches a day!

Finally, after long days of study and/or work I will inevitably find myself at the dinner table on or after 6pm, generally in the dark, with the soul light source coming from a wood fire stove in the corner of the barn where all meals are served. This lends to a wonderful abiance while eatting or simply sitting and talking with the family. I have promised myself to get a few pictures during this part of the day as it strikes me as something so pretty to see, something to look forward to in the next entry (I hope).The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

This weekend I stepped into the surreal…

It’s been one month and two weeks, as write, since I began training here in San Vicente, El Salvador. Yet, until this past weekend I had not strayed too far from our training quarters, and only then in following scheduled training curriculum. Thus, I was unto this point spared the confusion of what I came to find on the shores of the department of La Libertad, in Playa El Tunco. Immediately breathtaking, this area of coastline is known for its stretches of black sanded beaches, imposing rock formations that pepper the shoreline, and the amazing surf.

On a regular day, I’m met regularly by Salvadorans in the village with used cloths, worn and tattered sandals or shoes, and either a machete strapped to the waist or a large and heavily laden bucket perched precariously, however deftly, upon the head. Once stepping onto the sand there was little of this to be seen, and one might feel as though they had traversed an alternate reality. Your classic surfer’s haven and tourist site, the beachfront is dominated by quant hostels and restaurants, surfboard and clothing stores, and of course bars and clubs. Quite the opposite of what I’ve become accustomed to. Imagine my surprise when, after being given a brief tour of the facilities of our hostel, I came upon a bathroom with porcelain toilet, sink with mirror, and shower! I certainly wasn’t expecting this.

Soon after situating our belongings in our rooms that evening we ventured out toward the coastline in eager anticipation of what lie in wait. Preceding the view, I was impressed by the warmth of air and slight breeze emanating from just beyond, producing the salty aroma one comes to expect with ocean beaches. Once there, with the sand at my toes, I could do little to contain the smile which had quickly and unconsciously spread across my face. I only noticed after a time just how much I was enjoying myself, being sure to take in my surroundings thoroughly. This is truly a beautiful country, one which demands owe and admiration to even the most experienced of travelers.

I was a bit disappointed the morning following when I found that the batteries for my camera had not charged properly before leaving the village. I dare say it was sacrilegious to have left without photos which might hint to the beauty to be found there. Perhaps this is as good a reason as any to be sure this first visit will not prove also to be the last. I did, however, enjoy myself thoroughly from early morning through the afternoon. Exerting my strength against that of the waves I found myself the loser, admitting defeat in the end; but not before having a time at attempting to surf the world famous breaks with a board rented and generously shared by a fellow volunteer.

I had planned to spend just a single night there before returning, and retrospectively was glad for having decided to do so. After just a short time away from my host family I began missing their food, their company, and felt guilty that I was able to travel and enjoy myself while they continued to toile with their regular day. Actually Peace Corps has a popular, (though unofficial I’m sure), term for this: site guilt. Though a bit silly if you really take the time to think about it, I was glad to find myself back with my host family that same evening, the trip being only an hour and a half by taxi. I would suggest, however, that anyone interested in travel here be sure to lend some time to the area. It would surely be time well spent.

A well needed break from the toils of learning a new language, I feel refresh and ready to start anew…The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

I’ve just returned from an “immersion day” spanning three days, from Thursday through Saturday. In continuing our preparation for volunteer service this activity is intended to allow each trainee the chance to see what a site looks like and have the opportunity to rub shoulders with a current volunteer. I was fortunate enough to have been assigned to the Department of Morazan, located in the Northeast of the country, high in the mountains which stand as the natural Honduran, Salvadoran boarder. Before arriving in country I had read a bit about the area during the war and was thus very excited to learn it would be my site visit. After hoping buses for roughly five hours I arrived at the assigned site, a relatively small village about two or three miles from the boarder. For the next two days I became the shadow of the humble volunteer who was generous enough to offer his time to take me around for the weekend and participate in his regular activities. The area is amazing, much cooler than what I have gotten used to in training, as it is another two or three thousand feet higher in elevation. Surrounded by trees, predominately pine trees, the villager are employed almost exclusively by logging. As such, the area is dealing with the problems of deforestation. A lot of the volunteers work has been with efforts to increase awareness of the problems with deforestation and introducing alternate methods of income for families. The village is situated near a major tourist town although it’s well off the beaten path. Roughly twenty to thirty miles from the closest town, accessed by steep dirt roads, the village has been seeking national forestry protection for a considerable section of land in and around the community and preparing a campsite within as a tourist attraction for backpackers. The volunteer that I was with for the weekend was great. Born and raised in Maine, it was likely no coincidence that he was place in this site. After living with a host family for the first eight months of service he began work on a log cabin. What’s more, he has taken the opportunity to use this cabin as a cheap model for what the community could put together for tourist facilities. Needless to say I was impressed and, as I’m sure one could guess, a bit excited and inspired to do the same. He was enduringly patient, having asked him questions which ran the gamut, and very informative, clearing up many curiosities and uncertainties. While at site I accompanied him to the local grade school to join in assisting the local health official in cleaning the heads of about fifteen kids of lice. We also had the opportunity to help out with physical examinations by recording the children’s weight, height, and conducting vision tests. The work was simple enough, though surprisingly fulfilling. Overall the experience was completely unlike what I had expected, yet wonderful in its own right. The people of the community were disarmingly friendly and welcoming, the site was absolutely breathtaking and the volunteer very helpful in painting a picture of what to expect. The weekend had succeeded in making me all that more excited to finish with training and begin my volunteer service.The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

So what’s a day in the life like for a Peace Corps Trainee? I’ll try and give you a brief synopsis of my schedule for a normal day. First of all, it starts early. My host family begins their day around anywhere from 4 to 5:30am. My mother and father are up at 4 and the other two men of the house, ages 19 and 27, get up soon after to go to the fields for work. The women of the house, raging in ages from 14-25, get up anywhere from 4:45-5:30 and begin basic house chores before getting ready to go to school or work. I usually get up between 5:30-6 in the morning and walk roughly a sixteenth of a mile behind the house and through the sugar cane fields a small river where I take my morning baths. Once finished, I come back to the house, get a new change of clothes and prepare my things for the day’s classes. For example, Tuesdays we have classes in the center city and I will pack a backpack with the various things I’ll need there; while during the rest of the weekday classes are held at my house every morning from 8am-4:30 or 5pm, and I will simply bring the books, note cards and note books that I will use to the table set outside on our porch. After having done this, I’ll sit down to a wonderfully prepared Salvadoran breakfast, usually consisting of some combination of scrambled eggs, beans, refried beans, torillas, pupusas, or fried platanos. The food here is absolutely delicious! I feel like I have a gourmet chef employed full time. These plates are invariably coupled with a refresco, or a freshly squeezed fruit drink which is usually spiced up with a little extra sugar added to the mix. The only real difficulty that I have experienced thus far with diet has been the high carb and fiber. I’m sure you can guess what that leads to… On a typical day of class here at my house, we’ll begin with Spanish, lasting until the afternoon when we break for an hour and fifteen minutes for lunch. Following lunch we involve ourselves in various community project and development activities. Yesterday, for instance, we went to observe an English class being taught at our local village school with the intent of learning the cultural difference in teaching style, the structure for grade levels, class environment, etc. This will typically round out the day at quarter to 5pm. After class, I will often hike a steep trail just behind my house with a couple of fellow trainees that live with me in the village, which usually takes about an hour. At six dark begins to fall, and dinner is typically served around 6:30pm. Dinner or the time there after is when I have the most time with my family and with whom I spend the bulk of it speaking Spanish. This is the period of the day when everything learned earlier in the day can be reviewed and practiced. I also tend to use this time before bed to complete any home work assigned, though I have also found considerable time to sit and study before class in the morning, usually finishing breakfast around quarter to 7am. Bedtime is around 9pm, and though it is still quite warm in the evening hours, the temperature cools considerably as the night progresses, making a thin blanket all that is necessary for the night. Thus the days go by quickly, full of various lessons and activities.The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

This evening at the dinner table I had my first breakthrough with my family. I had arrived home later than usual, walking up the path toward my home just after six in the evening as the sun had neared the end of its cycle for the day. When I stepped onto the porch I notice Don Mario, my father, working on the left front corner of the house. He has recently completed this extension of the original structure and was coating the fresh cinderblock bricks with a coat of plaster as a primer before applying the purple paint to match the rest of the home.

I offered my help as soon as I realized this and he put me straight to work until I had completed what was left of the wall. The work was quick, only taking me thirty minutes or so, though I somehow managed to get myself considerably dirty, what with all the plaster dripping onto me from the untrained hand which held the brush.

After finishing, Don Mario invited me to join him for dinner where Doña Irene had waiting for me a bowl of cold black beans, to which she added a large lump of cheese, I’m not sure what kind, and lying in wait a ready supply of tortillas. The dish was fantastic and I ate heartily, making sure to limit myself to just two tortillas; (The night before I had been remise in curbing large appetite and ate four). Along with that she provided a refresco allayan, a drink prepared from freshly squeezed fruits, though I haven’t found what an allayan is just yet.

Once finished, my parents and I began talking lightly about the day’s events and the like, things which I felt they might be focusing on to help me along with my Spanish. I took the opportunity to use some of the new words and phrases which I had gathered throughout the day. Yet, from all this regular conversation we came to talk about the sad history of El Salvador, US involvement, and general American culture and sociology. During the conversation Marios mother, niece and any of a number of their children, of which there are seven, sat or stood to listen.

Their niece, which I have already grown to like very much came towards the end and remained throughout the duration. Though she is quite young, seventeen, she seems very interested in learning and thus we spent the duration of the evening teaching each other Spanish and English, along with el Don Mario y Doña Irene. Though I felt comfortable and enjoyed the evening previous, tonight was simply special. Though I’m still very limited in what I’m able to say, they are as helpful and patient with me as to remove all anxiety over my ineptitudes. In particular, they are sure to correct me often, which I’m sure will help me a long way toward speaking fluently.

Already these people have found a place in my heart. I can only hope that I have begun to forge a place in theirs. I have found myself stricken with the beauty and simplicity of this life of los campesinos, the farmers. I’m learning much already and look to the future, eager with anticipation.The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

This evening brings to an end my first full day in El Salvador. I have now moved in with my host family in the “canto,” or village, of Molineros situated just west of the city San Vicente. The village is quite interesting. With nearly 200 homes most neighbors are family who have lived here all there lives, and as they grow older and their families expand, depend on each other for their living. Its funny really, I have spent literally a lifetime studying about such people, yet I had never met any before nor seen the way they live.

It is rustic to say the least. However, there is running water and electricity, though both are limited. There is one main water faucet which provides for all the families needs. This faucet is out on the patio, just to one side of the front entrance of the home with a large rectangular cement basin and two smaller and more shallow basins which cover either side of the lager one. This effectively separates the larger basin into thirds, the middle open to the faucet above it. With this basin the family uses it for all cleaning: dishes, clothes, and anything else that might need attention. The two smaller basins are used for the collection and first rinsing of the items to be cleaned in the right, and a final rinse in the left.

The kitchen is housed in a separate building from the home itself, composed of three walls in rectangular shape with the fourth exposed and facing the house. Within it are a refrigerator on the left and stone stove with an iron cooking skillet for the preparation of the food, tortillas in particular, on the right. There are also shelves with an assortment of grains, vegetables, fruits and canned goods at the back wall and in the left rear corner. Taking up only a small section to the left of the room is a small table with one side against the wall and can comfortably seat four.

For a bathroom there is a latrine to the left and near the rear of the house, which has been kept in good condition. Just before the latrine is the washroom, also with three walls though tight enough to allow only one person in at a time, perhaps two. At the foot of the entrance there is a large plastic bucket, complete with a red hose leading from the faucet to lend it water when needed, and to be used to wet and rinse you when bathing. When in use the fourth wall can be covered with a curtain suspended by a clothes line.

Finally there is a small room roughly ten by six, with a box spring and mattress against the far wall, a small table just inside and to the right corner of the door, and a plastic chair. In the corner and above the desk as a wooden pole with some plastic hangers which I have since used, and converted the entire area into my Salvadoran dresser. This room is just inside the main door of the house and to the right, passing through a common room, very much like a family-room, containing a few wooden chairs and a wooden love chair facing a TV screen situated in top of a narrow table. (I haven't been able to explore the rest of the house as I'm concerned about invaving the privacy of my family, but I'm sure to find out soon enough!)

All and all, I’m very happy with my living quarters and am quite fortunate to have a large and welcoming family here to help me along with my Spanish. This will be certain to provide quite and adventure! I now endeavor to live amongst them, a Salvadoran in kind…The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.