I’m generally content, I’m critical and I have lots of personality flaws that I won’t throw out into cyberspace in case I’m up for Secretary of State or decide to run for the Senate. However, I am happy, feel unadulterated joy, when I am around my family. My mother is a better person than anyone could hope to be, the real rock of our family. My father is strong, funny, our provider and effervescent. My sister has grown up (ie giving me advice-when did that happen?) and she is classic, beautiful, and wickedly quick to respond to any comment thrown her way. My brother has a depth about him that I still haven’t quite put my finger on- despite all my doubts (ie he ran around in front of my friends- naked- for a good part of my awkward middle school years), he has turned into a real, incredible, thoughtful person-not just my ‘little brother’.

So, they get to El Salvador on Christmas Eve and we drive up to my site- where my father (who cannot defend himself here) was being a passenger seat driver and didn’t understand that passing, avoiding people and livestock are all part of the 3rd world driving game. He continued to berate me for the rest of the trip. Though, he was alarmingly helpful when we got lost. We weren’t TOTALLY lost, I was just driving in the opposite direction we needed to be going and he tells (read: yells) at me to stop, he gets out of the car and yells to a mototaxi/tuc tuc driver, “YO BABY, YOU GOT A SEC??”. Needless to say, the man is talking to my father until I stride on over, trying desperately to have my father recognize what an asset I am, but despite the language barrier, the big white man is managing to get directions from the comparatively small Salvadoran man. My skills were barely needed, much to my surprise (not really to my delight).

We get into my site and play Reindeer Games on Christmas Day with about 12 other Peace Corps volunteers. If you do not know the Hackett Family Christmas Day tradition intimately (few get invited, fewer are able to hang with the big dogs), the Reindeer Games are something like the Christmas Olympics. The Peg, who is the most impartial and least likely to cheat member of our family, organized this year’s games. She served as inventor, organizer, and judge for the games. As the games get started Christmas afternoon, the cheating also commences. Apparently, along with recruiting open-hearted, giving individuals, the Peace Corps also has been heavily recruiting cheaters at fun, wholesome family activities. After the game of unwrapping gum with gloves, we found in the pockets of several people (they shall remain unnamed…aahem, everyone on my sister’s team), new, unwrapped pieces of gum that they counted as unwrapped and subsequently won the game. I’m not bitter at the loss.

We went to a waterfall on Christmas Day and went to the river the next. The river was named “Well of Snakes”, but I vehemently denied, when my sister asked, if there were snakes in the water. Well, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned in another entry, Salvadorans don’t generally wear bathing gear into the water, just clothes. SO, when the family of gringos shows up with 1. A police escort (they were my students, wanted to meet my family, and I have a sneaking suspicion that they were pretty keen to see my sister in her bathing suit) and 2. In bathing suits, we had an audience. Everyone thought we were hilarious-jumping into the water, jumping from the water (I think it was the snakes on the bottom)- and we were. It was a wonderful time.

We were also invited to dinner at my friend’s house, her priest, family and a few other friends. The language barrier didn’t stop my dad at all from communicating. One of the only Spanish phrases he has mastered is basically translated as “shut up”/”close your mouth” and “open the window”, so basically those two phrases can get you anywhere and get you a few laughs.

Not to sound hackneyed, but this trip was truly incredible and really makes me realize why I was able come and live here-because I know what strong support I have back home. But fly as I have, I’ll be flying on back to the nest in a few more months!

Just a few quick thoughts, lacking all panache, so pardon me.

We just got done with exams and school officially comes to a close on Wednesday. I grades 300 exams at 100 questions each, I was a little crazy by the end of the week. I had emailed my director after making the exam to ask if how long it should be (yes, I realize that I was a little tardy for the party there), but she came back to me saying I should have at least 8 -15 questions. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, that just seemed a little lazy to me, but after grading 3000 questions, I think I should’ve scaled it back a wee bit.

One of my students responded to the question on the exam: how are you? With: I am handsome. He was my 279th test and he totally got credit for that, handsome is a hard word!

A few days ago I got asked if gringos could talk to fish- I told her that I could, in fact, not speak to fish. But Harry Potter can speak to snakes so I’m sure JK Rowling must have some wizard who has the gift of maritime tongues. This gringa muggle can’t.

Yesterday, someone asked me if I wanted a cat. I did not. Then, unprovoked, she started telling me where kittens came from. Turns out, they apparently just come out of the mother’s mouth. I asked no further questions. But was wondering, does she throw them up like one big hairball, or do they just creep out one at a time? I guess I stand corrected because I wasn’t willing to do any correcting.

The news can be such a good tool for desensitizing people. We hear about the crazy floods, the tsunamis, the hurricanes, etc that happen in “these third world countries”. Most people couldn’t locate where I am on a map. But turns out other people live here too- 5 million other people who have few resources to deal with this type of disaster. The destruction that can be done in such a short time is intense, crazy, unbelievable, and horrifying. The mudslides this weekend destroyed lots of infrastructure, but most importantly, lives. Our host communities where we lived during our first two months here were badly affected- walls of mud sliding down the volcano into and onto houses. Above is a picture of a river that overflowed and spread over lots of space. The police were looking for missing persons above on the cliff where we were

I still have these very saturnine days here. I have days where I feel the enormity of the problems here, in the US and around the world. A few days ago, one of my third graders came by my room. Dirty, scratched up, and mosquito bitten, Alba came by the other day looking for shoes that she could wear during the Independence Day celebrations on Tuesday. Her teacher told her that the shoes she had were not satisfactory to march in the parade. Though she has big feet for a third grader (size six), I have even bigger feet and was unable to help.

Last week, Alba came to my room selling oranges at 4 cents a piece. She was alone, carrying a gigantic bag of oranges- and not gigantic by a third grader’s standards-just a lot of oranges in a huge bag. She was alone then. She then proceeded to tell me how the Catholics lie, how she had never heard of tea, how most of her relatives hate her, and that she has family in North Carolina who wanted to bring her across the border to the USA. She’s another face in the sea of faces, and not even her own family takes an interest in her or her education.

On a less gloomy note, it was Independence Day on Tuesday, September 15th, with a really wonderful display of pride in country. I have a slightly more selfish reason for being so happy that Independence Day has passed. Everyday, for the past month, the kids have been practicing their instruments. It is one of those realizations that I came to-why did my parents never encourage me to take up the trumpet, or drums, or trombone? Because they would’ve gone absolutely insane, that’s why. The kids practiced everyday, RIGHT OUTSIDE MY CLASSROOM, while I was trying to give my classes.

As well, they only learned one song, so it wasn’t like I could be impressed with their repertoire. At least that is over. All in all though, it was a nice parade, good ceremony, and good fun.

Attached are photos of Alba and the parade. Also, they make the smallest kids dress up as "professionals" -doctors, nurses, policemen, etc. Very gender discriminatory (boys doctors police, girls-nurses and secretaries), but funny.

If someone tries to schooch/slip/walk by you and doesn’t say, “excuse me”, you think it is rude. You might say something under your breath or to your friend… "eeexxxxuuussseee yoouu". Would you confront that person, maybe. Would you punch that person in the face?

Well if you were one of the two eighth grade girls in my class, you would have. While in a test before we left school because of the Swine Flu/H1N1/ gripe porcina scare, my students were taking a test, and the schoocher girl got a punch in the face. Which then turned into a full on girl fight. I did not have my camera there, so the above pictures are just a little something I pulled of the Internet. The girls full on went at it. Hair, clothes, closed-fist punches, open slaps, kicking violently. They rolled outside and all of the boys were rolling with laughter, and I had to pull them off of one another, jesus cristo, they were fuming. Uniforms torn up, and to the director’s office they went.

I mean, I think that it is important to be an assertive and strong-minded woman, but unrestrained and obdurate aren’t great qualities when someone is trying to walk by your desk.

I’ve recently had my identity stolen. Not like an existential crisis, someone stole my credit card info- “Online Fraud”-“Identity Theft”- that fun stuff.

If you Google my name, you will now find that I am a gold star member of Guns America and I buy and sell shotguns, but not sawed off ones, the legit ones you can buy and sell legally online. As well, I am selling a 2001 Chevy, if anyone is interested. Also, I am apparently a wonderful customer of EFAX- so I like to shoot stuff up, drive my Chevy truck, and am environmentally aware of how much paper a fax uses, so I’ve gone green and receive my faxes in paperless form on the net- sweet.

So hopefully I’ll get that money back, because my monthly stipend isn’t covering my efax bill, on the other hand, hopefully my shotguns will start turning over quicker and I can use that to finance my other expenses.

As for El Salvador- all going well. We had a camp for girls (13-19 years old), and I did the “SEX” talk, and I did some MAYYYJJJJA myth busting. I’m sure I have no real audience on the blog, and I’m positive there is no one under 18, but since I’ll probably run for public office one day, I’ll keep it family friendly. Email for salacious details-OK not salacious, but strange, peculiar, odd, queer, weird, bizarre, curious, freakish, freak, quirky; mysterious, mystifying, puzzling, perplexing; unusual, uncommon, anomalous, irregular, abnormal, exceptional, singular, out of the ordinary, extraordinary-or one of those.

The pictures are of me giving the sex talk, collecting the firewood for the bonfire, and the “superhero” condoms- which the girls had to make. Each superhero had a power, like protecting women from violence or from pregnancy, etc. They thought it was hilarious ☺

As per normal, life has sent lots of things my way. Thankfully, no car crashes to speak of.

I’ve ridden and arthritic horse through a guerilla warpath, gone home and come back, and have flown the skies in another way, via zip line/canopy tour.

Now, I'm not a natural born equestrian. I feel like I am pretty good at addressing my concerns, wants, and needs in my real life-and usually people respond. But, apparently horses don’t have the same consideration for me.

When I was a young girl, my family took a trip to Texas, where we went horseback riding. My horse was NOT listening to me. So my dad took over my horse on the path and I got on his. Well, it turns out that my horse was for little girls and his was for big men. My poor Texas horse (so said the guides) would probably have to be retired/made into glue, because it already had back problems, which weren’t ameliorated by my very strong father started riding it.

Fast-forward to 2009. I am in the capital for the swearing in party of the new volunteers, and decide to go up to a lake just north of the capital, because everyone raves about it. I go, I go horseback riding. While my experience wasn’t exactly traumatic as a child, I still didn’t feel incredibly comfortable on horseback. I definitely didn’t get any more comfortable when then gave me their version of “My little pony”, who didn’t even have young pony strength, but just looked like a pony, and was actually and arthritic old woman horse. So, fine, if we were on a flat path, but we were going through the mountains on an old guerilla warpath and my arthritic pony kept slipping on the rocks and up and down the mountains. She also refused to listen to me and I had to be rescued by my friend and the guide several times. Hours of sweating it out waiting to be crushed to death by my pony, I made it.

I also took an all too quick trip home for my aunt’s wedding. The whole family, the beach, the open bar, the surprise karaoke on the dance floor (DJ was taken aback), and being back home was a great feeling. Pictures included.

When I got home (El Sal), they lost my luggage. So, I had to stay near the capital and ended up going about an hour away to the mountains on a canopy tour- hanging hundreds of feet in the mountains on wires, fun times as well.

I have less than a year here (which Momma Hackett keeps pointing out), but it has FLOWN- I’m happy to be back with my kids/students, and happy to get back to work. I had such a wonderful time in the States though.

Also, the photo of me with a cocktail in my hand is a result of the hard work I did in the kitchen- I was caught on camera actually cooking instead of pouring cereal, which took it out of me.

A few weeks ago, I was involved in a car crash. The driver took the curve too fast, the car flipped a few times and we hit a pole. It wasn’t even like we hit the pole on the side of the car, we were straight up, vertical with the pole. Like, my head was against the window basically on the ground and the car was straight up and down on the pole. My parents didn’t call you in a fit, so that means I’m alright- no worries.

I was in a Peace Corps ordered neck brace for a few days. Since the accident was right outside of town, everyone knew about it and showed up at the health clinic where they brought me directly after the accident. Apparently, no one thought that closing the door to the check-up room was a good idea, so I was in a pretty good amount of pain having to constantly reassure the people I work with that I wasn’t. I can’t be sure that I was speaking Spanish, it was probably a Spanglish/gibberish.

Now, thankfully we were all wearing our seatbelts. That was definitely my mother’s doing- insisting that we wore them always. My father deserves credit here as well, because when we were little, instead of having a “curse jar” where the parents had to deposit money every time they said a naughty word, we had the “owe me a dollar” rule. Everytime we caught Pops without his seatbelt on and we said “owe me a dollar dad”, he had to put a dollar in the jar. That’s how we made our first hundred- and promptly purchased a Nintendo. Easiest money I ever made-but I digress.

So the accident happened, I was the big news in town. It was a good thing we hit that post, because if now, we would’ve kept on rolling down the dang mountain.

Now, it was a pretty terrifying experience, but I didn’t get that “life before my eyes” flash. The terrifying part is if we would’ve struck the pole a foot farther up, it would’ve hit me in the face, not the bed of the pickup. When I saw that, I was thanking my lucky stars.

All settled down, and I got back into my work after the accident. Thanks to a generous donation by my dentist of 20 years, all of my students got to learn about the fun world of oral hygiene. For the past month, we’ve been learning how to brush our teeth, how to brush the tongue, what happens if our teeth rot out, and how cavities form. WOO HOO. It is amazing how little the kids know about it, and how many little kids you see running around with their baby teeth rotting out. Every class I had, we would start by brushing the teeth. Thanks again to Dr. Konikoff and Kelly Scheer for working out that donation for me. It’s been amazing. The kids are loving it.

To conclude- the other day, I went to a Parents’ Day for a school I work with down the road. They insisted that I got my face painted (i.e. drawn on by eyeliner) like a cat. When I got on the bus home, everyone was looking at me more curiously than normal, for a reason I couldn’t work out until I got home and looked at my cat face. Picture included above.

I’ll be home for a little bit of time in May for my aunt’s wedding. Should be a good time- feel free to shower me with diamonds and gold.

So we had Thanksgiving in my site. A bunch of other volunteers came up to Perquín and Ron, the owner of the hotel up here, was nice enough to let us take over the kitchen (a decision which I’m sure he later regretted). Now, domesticity isn’t my strong suit as most of my audience faithful know- I can wash a mean dish, but can’t cook to save my life. However, since T-giving was in my site, I was the default cook (with lots of help from Ron’s mother).

We acquired a turkey from someone’s yard- it had been frozen, so it appeared to be the normal start to a T-giving meal. However, the poor turkey was anorexic and only weighed 7 pounds, so I asked if we could get a chicken to supplement our meal. Sure enough, an hour later, I was handed a still warm chicken from the ladies who had just killed it. UGH, too fresh for me. When I told my mom about the malnourished, emaciated turkey, she suggested I run to the store to get a Butterball popup turkey, which had the other volunteers and me rolling in fits of laughter.

Other things that have happened between Thanksgiving, my trip to the good ole US of A and those that have just happened:

1. I woke up on the bus and found an old lady’s hand in my pocket looking for some cash money. I looked at her like, seriously lady, do you see how I’m dressed? Does my outfit scream “super rich” to you?

2. I saw a lion, cheetah, and lioness on the side of the road (in a cage)

3. I busted up a child crime ring. Back-story is that one of my students stole $20 from me; I told him if he didn’t bring me my money in 2 hours I was going to call his mom and the police. Turns out, I called his mom and my neighbor (from whom he was also stealing) called the police. Well don’t you know it, 4 kids were working the streets of Perquín stealing stuff. Busted.

4. I saw a lady wearing a t-shirt saying “I’m not a b*tch, I’m THE b*tch.” I don’t know why I put the asterisk in, everyone knows it says bitch. (I didn’t say it Mom, I’m just writing about my experiences, see?!)

5. During my town’s patron saint festival, we had a rodeo. I went all the days, not because it was good, I was just testing the gods to see if that stadium thing would actually fall or if I could cheat death. It was the ricketiest bullring thing I’ve ever seen constructed in 4 hours. Insane. Also, during the rodeo, they made this poor monkey ride a bull. Which wasn’t really funny at the time, but at least it makes for some interesting photos. If PETA is reading this, I just want them to know that I was truly appalled by the monkey-bull incident.

6. My trip home was a joyous occasion. I’m seriously blessed with an amazing family. We have a series of games called “Reindeer Games”, which this year included standing in the freezing cold ocean water. The games aren’t really for “fun” as much as to establish superiority and the right to gloat through the year, though through all the cheating (DAD) and the spirited arguments (KATELYN), we manage to have some fun. The Reindeer Games include a Stanley Cup of sorts, with the past years’ winners included.

7. A LOT of gringos were here for an Eye Campaign these past few weeks. I was in charge of the inauguration ceremony and organizing the translators. They did surgery, cataracts, pterigium surgeries (this weird little growth over the eye). I got to see some neat things, some gross things, learned a lot about my eyes and how much I need to take care of them. That being said, 2 nights ago (one night after all the doctors left), I cut my eyelid on this dirty wire inside my bathroom (when you think bathroom, think wooden stall with a gross toilet… although I’m not complaining because it actually does flush). My eye hurts still, but I’m lucky that I don’t see light when I close my eyes, so I’m not complaining about it- I just want sympathy. Cards or emails will do.

8. I should give a shout out to the many many people that helped pull off the eye campaign- I’ve stolen some photos from Gabe Cohen’s blog because I didn’t manage to take any in two weeks.

9. Last night I found out that the nun’s dog got gonorrhea from another dog in town. Hahahahahhahhaah.

Not to be a downer, because it isn’t a downer thing, but my Grandpa would be 90 years young today. Good man. I just listened to “Sweet Caroline” and thought of the cousins’ brilliant performance at the Moose Lodge. Good times.

I’ll have been here a year next month. CRAZY.

I know that I don’t always necessarily have a flair for the narrative, but sometimes it isn’t the ill-constructed story that is the problem, it’s trying to fit all the things that actually happen in my life into an acceptable, semi-coherent form.

Since this months events do not allow for a thoughtful, well-chronicled, detailed version of events, I think they might work a little better in list format.

1. We have a new president-elect. Historical. You’d be hard pressed to find a McCain supporter amongst the crowd-though there was one kid who voted for the convicted felon Ted Stevens, with a hilarious, but unconvincing argument as to why.

2. A good friend of mine got married, and I wasn’t there to see it. Since there is a chapter of AA that meets below my room (AA is HUGE in El Salvador), a friend of mine had the brilliant, if incriminating, idea to take some photos of me “at the wedding”. This included stealing some empty liquor bottles that the AA homies threw out and photograph me with the bottles “celebrating” at the wedding. I’m aware that there are far too many “quotation” marks.

3. I saw a decapitated body in the street in the city closest to where I live. It was disturbing. Under what I would consider normal circumstances, a headless man might be covered up under a sheet, but this one wasn’t. His neck was covered, but that was about it. Stuff was all over the street. It made me super reflective about life, its importance, and about how I do not want to die.

4. I was sort of assaulted by not one, but two beggars in the city. A lady was asking for money in the bus terminal pinched me because I didn’t give her money. I’m not exactly Miss Moneybags these days, but I had the sneaking suspicion she didn’t care to listen to my explanation. I’ve got my “I’m a poor volunteer” speech down, but no, she just pinched me and got on to her next victim.

The second beggar did not assault me physically, but I was emotionally distressed nonetheless. He was a mentally challenged beggar and obviously that situation in life is difficult, especially in a country with few resources to help people in his condition. However, he was mean, to the point of irate, when people didn’t give him money. For example, he pinched a 6-year-old kid when he didn’t give him money. The kicker though, was when he stood in front of the white girl (me), and demanded money and pointed for around thirty seconds, which is a long time when everyone is looking at you on the bus. When I still didn’t give him money, he flipped me the bird- apparently a universal gesture. The bird lasted for about 5 seconds.

5. I met a six foot eight inch French Canadian police officer. I also met a 4-foot something Guatemalan woman. I’ve included the photo.

6. People go quiet when I walk by, you might mistake me for a famous person. But I’m not, I’m a Peace Corps volunteer who showers everyday, but never quite looks fresh. I’m Lila, who doesn’t drink and is a Puritan angel. I’m Linsey, who doesn’t have a husband or children in the States. I’m a daughter, whose parents do not speak Spanish, but she does (some people don’t understand how that could be, haha). Though, I’ll give them credit, Pops can say “open the window”, “how are you”, and “close your mouth”. Mom can say “hola”. It’s good to have people stare at you though, it’s a very interesting feeling. I’m still glad I’m not 6 foot eight.

7. I saw a turtle laying its eggs during the celebration of the birthdays of two of my greatest friends in the country.

The rat was found dead in the closet of my downstairs neighbor. OOPs!! My landlord said it was smelling up her room for a while until she figured it out.....

There are some things that just gross you out. Any reference to bodily functions no longer grosses me out. Seeing a chicken killed and promptly served to me no longer really grosses me out, though I’d still opt for the frozen bag of chicken breasts if I could. Sitting in the back of a pickup with 24 other people in super close proximity no longer grosses me out. But the Bubonic Plague still grosses me out. Supposedly it has been eradicated, but I’m not taking any chances.

I’ve had a little visitor for the past few nights, nothing scandal worthy, trust me. Scary Harry the Rat has been rattling around my room, scaring the bejesus out of me. He is pure Salvadoran, because he only ate my packages of beans, not my Coco Pebbles. He was a bit of a mystery man for the first few nights, and I didn’t catch on immediately. Talking with my momma, I thought it could just be a phantom of the oh-so adorable room where I live. However, about 4 am, Eastern Standard Time, I got up, bravely turned on my light, just in time for me to see Scary Harry jump out of my garbage bag, which is tied up on my door handle, about 3.5 feet in the air. He didn’t break any legs and he wasn’t scared to come back the next night. Since I was all out of beans for him to eat, I set out a poison piece of cheese and a poison infested drop of peanut butter (which costs $4.50 in the store that I have to travel 3 hours to get to, so I was feeling a little vindictive/spiteful). Harry came, Harry went, Harry ate, and I didn’t find him the next morning. Next 2 nights, same thing- I thought maybe I bought some defective poison. However, although no body has been discovered, I now believe that Harry is no longer. Or at least he got the message that he’d have big stomach issues if he returned to my sanctuary. I actually took a photo of my poison cheese, so I feel kind of like the witch who gave Snow White the poison apple. If he’s not dead, Harry will probably end up with a sweet princess girlfriend.

Lots of things have been happening here. I’ve been doing lots and lots of work with a foundation for a school in town, along with the school itself. Above are a few of the photos from the school (some of them are borrowed from a group who came down to visit, focalpointaid). The kids are amazing, the school is doing amazing things on some crazy limited resources- I love it. I’m sure that everyone will hear much more about it. Also, I celebrated my 23rd birthday a few weeks back in the capital. We found a hibachi grill!!! It was a great night, pictures posted above.

It has been a super busy time here. Last weekend, a group of doctors came down to El Mozote (the town of the massacre), and a couple of Peace Corps volunteers and I helped out with translating. It was a truly incredible experience. I saw a baby’s body that was burned because she tipped over a pot of beans on the stove. I saw a 2 year-old little boy who had to have all his teeth pulled out of his mouth, because his mother had let them rot out and he had a major infection. I saw so many people who needed more care than a 2-day clinic could provide. I saw greedy people, who came back both days wanting more vitamins and more medicine for the same children already seen by doctors. I saw people hoarding toothbrushes, because they were giving them out for free. I saw people who traveled for 8 hours to come to the clinic. I saw severely malnourished children. I saw lots of kids with parasites (although, nothing to gawk at, I myself had to be treated for parasites that day). I saw 13 and 14 year old mothers. I saw so many people with respiratory illnesses because they use wood stoves to cook in the home, and it causes their whole families to be ill. I saw that it is hard to change the world. But things are getting better, I’ve got to hope anyway.

The doctors were amazing with the people there, they were great to the Peace Corps volunteers-it was a great experience, as are most of my experiences here. I’m learning lots of things, life changing, eye opening.

Every year, there is the Winter Festival here in my site. Vendors come from all over to sell their goods and people come to see the dances and celebrations. It sounds great, like the thousands of people who flock to Times Square every year for Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rocking Eve, which, by the way, has been changed to Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rocking Eve with Ryan Seacrest (mom, you called it from the beginning, Ryan is totally the new Dick). I digress. Basically, the native New Yorker hates the overflow of people and the security nightmare that cramming all those people into a tight space entails. That is sort of like the Winter Festival in my site on 1/10000 of the scale. My usually calm, cute town, along with the people trying to make an honest living, was filled with Che Guevara, sickle and hammer wearing young, faux hippies, who hadn’t the slightest clue what this international counterculture symbol actually stood for, only that he was “revolutionary”. I certainly support freedom of expression/opinion, but being revolutionary entails more than a scraggly beard, a Che t-shirt, a Che hat and camo pants. As a result of the civil war and the overall political environment, Che has become so immensely popular, without being understood (trust me, I’ve asked). Since Che’s very ideas were about armed class struggle in order to achieve equality, the very idea that he would still be so popular is interesting. El Salvador went through that armed struggle for so many years and it devastated the country. It seems kind of like the some of the good ole boys at my former institution of higher education who would wield the confederate flag. They would paint the flag in their frat house, wear Confederate flag belt buckles, start speaking with a bit of a twang, all whilst being from way far north of the Mason-Dixon line. Symbols stand for things, they often and important part of our past, but are misunderstood and misused in the present.

Long story short, these hippies were using my bathroom (unauthorized) and I didn’t like it. They used my toilet paper and prices are only going up these days, I can’t be sharing my TP with just anyone.

Also, during this week, I was a model for Japanese culture day (RANDOM). But there is JICA, the equivalent of the Japanese Peace Corps, and they had a Japan day during the festival (oddly, there was no American day). Also, the view is from my room on a cloudy day, not bad.

Also, I hiked to see a waterfall a few miles away from me. Very nice, very nice.

Salvadoran: Hey Lila, why do you look so sad?

Lila: Oh, well, my grandfather passed away.

Salvadoran: Oh… well he was old, right?

Lila: Yes, he was 89.

Salvadoran: Yep, that’s old.

Lila: Sure is.

So, I’ve been to the States and back and it has been a crazy few weeks. I thought I’d have a little culture lesson for my committed readers (and by that, I mean my aunts and uncles and grandma ☺ ). So, Mick Hackett, aka grandfather, aka one of the most incredible people to walk God’s green earth, passed away a few weeks ago. Basically, I was running around town like a crazy girl trying to get a ticket booked and get home as soon as possible. As I was doing all of this, I looked, as one might imagine, terribly stressed/teary-bleary eyed. The conversation above took place several times that morning. Please forgive the generalizations here , because certainly not everyone has the same way of dealing with death here in El Salv, but I came across several people who, upon finding out the news, looked at me like it was the most natural thing to happen in the world. Old people pass away, because they are old. It makes perfect sense to the logical mind, but to the grieving heart it didn’t really bode well with me that day. I know he was 89, but that doesn’t mean I’m still not terribly sad and heartbroken for my aunts, uncle and grandmother. There were few “Awww, I’m sorries”, and no “let me know if there is anything I can dos” or pats on the back, death happens (just like taxes, awkward first dates, and parasites in a 3rd world country). It seems like such a different way of dealing with something that I thought would be pretty universal. I’m still going to be sad though, and that’s how I’ll deal with it. I guess I’ll have to indulge in a little self-pity and give myself a few pats on the back. It was a truly wonderful trip home though, despite the circumstances, but I am happy to be back to work.

Below, a Grandpa classic:

Q: Why did they outlaw the round bales of hay?

A: Because the cows couldn’t get a square meal!

Imagine this. Around 1,000 people are killed by government soldiers. Men, women, children, babies. Everyone in town is brutally massacred. Then the government says it didn’t happen. But there are 1,000 people missing and photos of the mass graves exist.

Crazy? Couldn’t happen? Right?!?

This week I visited a town called El Mozote a few miles from my site where just such a massacre occurred. During the civil war here, from 1981-1992 , the U.S. backed Salvadoran government soldiers massacred an entire town as a part of their “scorched earth policy”. The Salvadoran army flat out denied that it happened and the U.S. was eventually forced to admit that it maybe, well, could’ve possibly, sorta happened. Only one woman survived while she hid and had to watch her children, husband and neighbors be executed. Crazy.

There is a mini-monument here to the people who were killed (although the number of people killed is still disputed). It was a pretty somber experience because on these plaques you see things like: Moises Claros, Eugenia Claros and 5 children, dead, and similar plaques of entire families who were murdered. Disheartening, depressing, heartbreaking, but all the while amazing. The people here are resilient. My town was the capital of the guerilla forces and my pueblo, along with the entire department were the most affected areas during the war. The Peace Accords were signed in 1992, and the area has a long way to go, particularly in the schools where I have been spending a majority of my time.

So, after the sadness that is El Mozote I went to visit another volunteer, a Rural Health volunteer. That means he’s RURAL. I had to take a pretty sweet downhill 30-minute hike to get to his site from El Mozote (beautiful views, I’ve included photos). There are roads, just no transportation. WHEW. Obviously I was excited to get there and didn’t let the fact that a downhill arrival would mean an uphill return, not fun. Jimbo, the volunteer who I visited, requested a special bio in my blog. Height: six-two Weight, when he doesn’t have amoebas and parasites: 170-180 lbs. Devastating handsome. Voted as his Peace Corps Superlative: Most likely to be Don Juan of both Peace Corps Volunteers and Salvadoran women (big honor, right?!).

So, I arrived to his house where there was a giant tractor that broke in his front yard. To date, there are no plans to remove the tractor. Jimbo, the surly, manly man he is, has purchased a machete to cut through the undergrowth on the way to and from his site. Machetes are common here, almost every man carries his machete, around town, on the pick up trucks (the main mode of transport here) and for various agricultural endeavors.

I thought I would wield a machete on top of the tractor, because, hey, when will I ever take a photo with a machete on top of a broken tractor? Every day is an adventure in Peace Corps.

Also, I have been asked out by a 17 year old kid. Awkward. He came up to visit me to get help with his English homework, and was apparently expecting some Chemistry. I let him down easy, don’t worry.

Oh, and for my weekend adventure, I got parasites.

Oh, and I went to church because a few people from town invited me. It was three hours. Jesus Christ! He’s serious business.

So in my last entry I quoted a little inspiration from Gabriel Garcia Marquez about how the real joys to life are about climbing the mountain, not being on the top. So, I’ll recount one of those “joys” this past week in my classes.

I was teaching my kindergarten class, and everyone seemed pretty excited about learning my song with the exception of Katherine and Javier. Katherine, who is quite the character, decided that she was bored, and kept chatting with herself about being bored, on repeat (apparently kindergartners haven’t learned the skill of keeping that inner dialogue inside). She then marched to the front of the classroom and decided she would wave the yardstick around wildly. Javier, who has a behavioral problem as it is, decided that he would like to wave that stick around as well. Fighting ensued, Javier cried, Katherine marched back to her seat defiantly. I took it all very personally and took the morning as a complete failure. HOWEVER, and this is a big however, which is why I put it in all caps, just as I was walking along the road at dinner time, thinking about my participation with the kids, and if it is benefiting them in any sort of capacity, I heard one of my kids yelling “Lila, Lila!” I turn around and he starts singing the song that I had taught this morning, and he had taught his 3-year-old brother as well… WOOP WOOP, someone learned something today. I also taught them the “high five” in class that day.

As my hodgepodge entries usually go, one story will not tie in nicely with another, because A. I’m not that great of a writer and B. The weirdest things happen to me, making my life, ergo, my blog, a mishmash, random assortment of stories. I was using the Internet last week, and met some gringos in town, a Dutchman and Englishman. We all had dinner together, travel stories started and although I cannot share most of them on my family friendly blog, I will share a good one. We’ll do this Quentin Tarantino style. It ended by the Englishman eating a giant beetle.

So we were having a delicious meal when the Englishman told us how, while in Thailand, he tried fried cockroaches on the street. Whilst in a Thai bar, there was a pretty considerable sized, rather exotic bug on the bar. Everyone started betting him beers if he ate it. I do understand that those who travel often find themselves in a precarious financial situation, and apparently desperate times called for, well, eating a bug at a Thai bar. His quotation was the following, “You know how all meat pretty much tastes like chicken? Well, pretty much all bugs taste like cockroaches.” So, at the end of the night, the Dutchman bet him a dollar to eat the horned beetle on the ground at our feet. He popped it into his mouth. Crunch, crunch, “Tastes like cockroach”.

As well, I went to the capital this weekend to go get a shot (fun), though it ended up being a very interesting, lovely weekend. However, upon my return to my site, 2/3 of my building was painted bright red. My 1/3 was left its original yellow. Since the elections are coming up here, the opposing political party in my town rented the space beside me. The setup is as follows, one giant room, sectioned off by thin plywood, the political rallies taking place on the other side. Therefore, I will be hearing everything that goes on, and have to endure the new, red harshness of my once uniformly painted area. But hey, if I thought I was lucky to have a yellow building so I’d never forget where I lived, now I really won’t be able to miss it. Bright side.

I’ve included some really bad self-portraits that I took this morning with my newly colored building.

Although I generally do not support war, I have waged one of my own. Truthfully, I am not willing to lay down my life for my cause, but I am risking some pretty serious lung conditions. What ever are you talking about Lila? My war is against the bugs of the country, particularly those that inhabit my room. While the people here are lovely, gracious and welcoming, the bugs are anything but delightful, and are sort of the bane of my existence right now. I have risked near asphyxiation from the bug spray in order to eliminate the gargantuan cockroaches that were having a wild fiesta in my room.

I was basking in the glow of satisfaction about having spread to the Cockroach Nation that they face certain death if they enter my room, when I realized that my memorandum had not reached the Moth Nation. For a good hour, I was on a mission killing all the little moths in my room, and apparently they called the Lord Voldemort of the moth kingdom to come to instigate a battle with my broom and me. Never in my 22 years have I seen a moth of this magnitude, and I FREAKED OUT. It looked like an eerie, creepy bird with an eight-inch wingspan. So I was flailing around the room with a broom in one hand and my flip flop in the other, letting out little bewildered, anxious sounds as I tried to slap the moth out of the sky. Don’t worry. I won. Though, just to add insult to serious injury, the moth left a giant death mark on its way out the door that I had to mop (Bright Side, I did find Pine Sol here. Sweet smell of America). It is certainly an unwinnable war, nicely paralleling the one happening in our own country…hey, at least I realize it though.

This week was super busy, apart from my craziness happening with the bugs. I play B-ball at 5 am a few days a week with a few sweet kids from the town. If that sounds early, it is, but apparently the early bird gets the worm. This early bird just gets tired at 11am and wants to take a nap. Last Monday, I had to present myself in front of about 350 kids. I taught at 2 of the schools in the area, one public and one private. As well, I went with the public school director to an Environmental Presentation in a neighboring municipality. It really is great to know that there is a growing interest in the environment. However, it struck me that for breakfast and lunch, they used the most nonbiodegradable substance of Styrofoam. And threw it into the trash. And didn’t attempt to recycle it. Even a little bit. I don’t know how to say Styrofoam in Spanish, so I couldn’t point out the obvious contradictions. But, my mood is generally happy and hopeful. There are lots of good things to be done, and many frustrations that are already emerging. One of my great Randy-Mac professors told me not to adopt an “asi no mas” attitude, meaning something like “half assed is alright, we did something, sort of, right?”. This is definitely the attitude that many organizations take here, so I’m holding strong Professor. I continue to remain hopeful.

Although I know that frustrations will continue to rear their unsightly little heads (hopefully they won’t be in moth form), a great quotation comes to mind from Gabriel Garcia Marquez: “I have learned that everyone wants to live on the peak of the mountain, without knowing that real happiness is in how it is scaled”. I know that there are lots of problems, and lots of things to be done, but I will have to start little by little. I’m going to start scaling. Vamos a ver.

Miss you mi familia and mis amigas! I’m posting a Google image of the giant moths I found, as I was too terrified that it might come back to life by snapping a photo of it. As well as my favorite family photo. (It is on my computer background and everyone thinks we are crazy locos, which isn’t a far cry from the truth, except for you momma, you are the least crazy )

So I’ve made some power moves in a week here. I am now living in my very own room, with my very own bed, table and hammock. I bought a few things that got delivered to me and a few kids from the pueblo zoomed up to my room, took things out of the boxes and ran off with the trash. It was freaking unbelievable how helpful people are. (Sidebar: My dad grounded me in 7th grade for an unjust 2 week sentence for saying “freaking shoes”. Although I’ve graduated college, have an expansive vocabulary, and could’ve easily have chosen a variety of words to fill that slot, I feel like pops will appreciate that. Also, grounding me would be wonderful, at least I’d get hot showers).

But, I digress. OK, so another little example of how helpful people have been thus far (just over a week in my site)…I was chatting with a lady from town and mentioned to her how nice her table was and that I would love to find something similar for my room. Friday morning, 7 am, a carpenter shows up outside looking for the “gringa”, finds me, and by 4 pm I was the proud new owner of a beautiful wooden table. Also, the kid downstairs showed up at 7 am the same morning to help me hang my hammock. Good thing I’ve become an early riser. I’ll thank the combination of the Salvadoran culture, roosters, and the early morning dog fights for that.

Additionally, I had my first experience of washing laundry by hand in the “pila”, a concrete structure that people use to do dishes and clothes. How I’ve taken washing machines for granted. I used to complain when I had to do laundry in the states, a relatively quick and painless process by comparison. I got up at 5:30 am to start soaking my clothes and then for the next 3 hours, I washed all of my garments and hung them out to dry. I have lots of little cuts on my hands from rubbing them on the rocks. I was a MESS and all my neighbors and passersby were laughing at me because I was soaked from head to toe scrubbing my little heart out. WOOP WOOP, I did it though (however, a good majority of my underthings now have holes). Things I’ll never complain about again: lukewarm water (it’s better than freezing!) and doing my laundry.

It was a crazy week though, I feel like I’ve seen and done lots of things and met lots of people. Oh yes, and I’ve officially renounced my Christian name of Linsey for a simpler Hispanic-friendly one, Lila. No one can pronounce my name. I’ll still respond to “Linsey” in the states.

Also, I’ve just discovered that New Kids on the Block has come out with a new song. How come no one emailed me about that?

WOW. Lots of things have changed in a fewer than 2 weeks. I am no longer a Peace Corps trainee, but a full fledged Peace Corps Volunteer. For me, this means that I have arrived in my permanent site, where I will be living for 2 years. For my parents, this means that the 2-year countdown has begun.

The last two weeks in my training community were eventful. I had a nice bout of parasites, which is a pretty common issue and something that Peace Corps Volunteers chat about openly. One of the volunteers, on his blog, felt free to draft a letter to his stool sample… sexy things go on in this country. We had a goodbye fiesta for our families in the training community, and two of the kids there kept repeating “wassssuuuppppp” and “son of Michael Jackson” throughout the entire day. I reckon that it was the extent of their English, however, I have no idea where they got “son of Michael Jackson”.

After the party, I went with my family to the beach, and rode in the back of the pickup like a true Salvadoran. My face was numb for a really long time.

I said my goodbyes to my family in the training community and headed off to the capital for the swearing in ceremony, where I met the ambassador to El Salvador, which was pretty exciting. I first asked him if I could put his photo on my blog, he said of course…. Then when I was taking a photo of the ambassador and another volunteer, I said “hey boys, look over here”…I called the ambassador “boy”…he didn’t seem offended or he just didn’t notice, oops! A party followed the swearing in ceremony, where we got to meet other volunteers in the country. We also received superlatives from our fellow trainees (I´ve included a photo of me receiving my superlative)... I got ¨most likely to receive remittances from home¨...i.e. everyone thinks that I´m the most likely to get my parents to send me money... how I wish that was true...feel free to make that dream a reality though mom and dad...

I was more than bummed about leaving my casa in my training community, however, I am now in my own community! Saturday was Mother’s Day here, and the mayor’s office had an activity for the mamas in town. I arrived in the office to help prepare for the celebration and when the room was packed with about 200 people, my counterpart tells me that I will be making a little presentation in front of everyone, to get to know the community. EEEEEK! Sink or swim (in Spanish)…no complaints though, I’m really excited about getting to know the community and seeing where I can help, since I am an official volunteer and everything. Oh, side bar to my very unorganized entry this week, the first night I was here, there was a major downpour with thunder and lightning, and I was running to get back to where I was spending the night and I was sort of attacked by a dog, no blood though, I´m fine. I didn’t tell my parents about this on purpose, love you!

I don’t think anyone is going to hire me to be in his or her next blockbuster, but our project with the play went pretty well this week. The gringos played the following parts: 2 trees, 1 bird, 1 river (ME!) and the guitar player. The kids played trees, the person who cut down the trees, a couple of humans who littered and devastated the environment in the forest, and the smallest kid played the monkey!

The entire morning turned out much different than we had originally thought though. As it was explained originally, the mayor’s office would invite people from all over the town to have a little kick-off celebration for the environmental campaign. However, a non-governmental organization (NGO) actually ended up sponsoring facilitating the event and the mayor’s office provided the equipment. The main event was to be the movie, and we performed our play beforehand. However, our play turned out to be the highlight, as the NGO that came in to “teach” about global warming decided to show Al Gore’s “An Inconvenient Truth” to a bunch of 8-12 year olds (not the audience we were expecting), and then tried to have a formal discussion about the dangers of destroying the environment. The Al Gore movie is a truly educational experience and informative as all get out, however, you can’t show a detailed slideshow lecture in movie form discussing the effects of global warming when the kids have never even heard of the concept. I was surprised that an organization like this one would try to present such an important topic in such an age inappropriate way, since they knew beforehand that they would be presenting this topic to 8-12 year olds. All and all though, it was a great experience working with the kids, and we will continue going to the meetings until we go to our permanent sites…Speaking of our permanent sites, we find out very soon where our new homes will be...it’s like Christmas! (minus the presents, good food, regular running water and electricity)

This has been an event filled week, starting with my English class, the death of my room rat, learning how to “dance”, and a mini-earthquake tremor episode. The assumption here is that if you speak English, then you would make a good English teacher, a bold assumption I thought. Teaching the class reminded me of my first day of driving on Waters Road (a curvy road with ditches on either side) with my Pops. I was wildly apprehensive about driving A. over 20 mph outside the ‘hood and B. about driving on a real road with real ditches, and James Hackett tells to that it’s “sink or swim

time baby”. So to make a short story entirely too long, I taught the colors and parts of the body to a class of 23 fifth graders, who were a lot of fun and tried particularly hard to pronounce “purple”, but it just wasn’t happening for them. The teachers at the school a lot of confidence in the gringos, but I managed to stay afloat…we had a good time.

Next mini story from my week is the Mouse story. I have/had a mouse-rat that lives/lived in my room. I’d named him Randy and Randy only squeaks at night, much like the crowing roosters, who choose the most inconvenient hours to make their animal noises. The only time I had ever seen the true animosity between cat and mouse was in cartoons, but now I know that they are born enemies. Our house cat (who subsequently doesn’t have a name, they just call him Cat), caught Randy, who turned out to be a tiny mouse, and then kind of just played around with him for fun. My host mother called me over to see Cat killing Randy, and I happened to have my camera handy, so I’ve included it for your viewing pleasure.

Next mini-story/disaster for the week….Last Friday, we had a dance class, which turned out to be fairly tragic for most of the gringos in the group, as there are few people who have any sort of rhythm whatsoever. However, I snapped a few pictures of the calamity that the teachers had the unfortunate duty to instruct. Apparently, when we are out of training and into our permanent sites (T-minus 3 weeks), and are invited to various social events, we may have to dance at some point (eeeek!)

As well, there were earth tremors that lasted about 30 seconds earlier last week…. I was sufficiently freaked out that my body was moving and I wasn’t the one responsible for it. My host mom told me that El Salvador has about 4 major natural disasters a century. Which for a country the size of Delaware, the amount of devastation the people experience is just crazy. There are over 180 volcanoes here and they get hurricanes, tsunamis, earthquakes, floods…no blizzards (oh how I long to not be sweating for more than 5 minutes). During those few seconds of the tremors, I was convinced that the volcano I live beside was going to erupt and we were going to be the Pompeii of 2008. After my host mother convinced me that the volcano was, in fact, not erupting, I had already convinced myself that there was going to be another earthquake… however, there were 2 major earthquakes in January 2001 and February 2001, so hopefully we’ll stay natural disaster free for a little while. This country’s got a hard time building, because when it takes 2 steps forward, nature knocks it 3 steps back.

Again, I apologize for how I’ve haphazardly strung my week’s events together… but to wrap up, this week we will be putting on a play in front of the town with our youth group in order to kick off the Environmental Campaign. I will be playing the River… Apparently I’m a teacher and an actress in this amazing country.

Just a mini-death trap adventure this week, class, our town project and a massive earache. I asked my momma to come down so she could put the drops in my ear, but she didn’t really think it was as urgent as I did. Though she and Pops have promised to come down in something “serious” happens. I still contend my ongoing ear infection is a “serious” struggle. Aside from my minor aches and pains, we have been getting our town project going here in the training community (we are here for another month). We ended up making contact with a great teacher who organizes a youth group that meets twice a week. (Side note: our contact is the English teacher at the local school, however, he’s never formally studied English, nor can he speak it. He is the newest teacher at the school, ie “low man on the totem pole”, and got stuck with the subject. The government provides no English training and gives the public schools $25 per student, per year… basically these teachers here are making miracles) For our time in the training communities, we had to implement a mini-project that is taking place in a few weeks. The kids and the gringos (any white person here is automatically a gringo, any Asian person is Chinese or a chino, any slightly overweight person is fatty or gordito… these people get right to the point) will be putting on a play with the kids about the environment as well as doing a Cleaning Campaign around our town. The mayor’s office is hosting an Environmental Campaign (which will last a few months), which kicks off with our play and a movie to follow. This is a great initiative by the mayor’s office, as it is a topic that deserves some attention. Just for example, when someone is done with their ice cream, Coke, or napkin they will simply throw it on the ground, be it the street, the park or the beach. Trash collection wasn’t even required by the government until last year (now, every municipality is required to have their trash collected by hiring a private service..$$$$). Not to get too pedantic, but the environment is a growing concern for many people, and since going green seems to be the new black and is becoming a very sexy initiative around the world, many small towns are catching the fever and implementing some very cool and creative campaigns for environmental consciousness.

On a lighter note (my mini death trap adventure) I did have to cross another bridge o’er a river this week, when the other gringos in my town and I went to the river with our youth group this Saturday. I’ve included some photos of my town and of our adventure (Cultural Side Bar: Many many people do not smile in photos here, they will smile before and after and will have had the best day of their lives, but do not smile for the camera…. Haven’t gotten the “why” part figured out yet). Thanks for all the great emails! I like to hear what is happening with everyone back home!LIOB chicas.

I’ll try to recap my mini adventure from the past 4 days…keep in mind that we are a few weeks in-country, and Peace Corps sends you on a little voyage to go visit another volunteer. So together with my $20 (spread out over various parts of my backpack/body in case I get robbed), and a few bus route numbers, I start out from my lovely home here into the Western part of the country. 3 busses, 1 pickup truck and 5.5 hours later, I arrive at my destination, a little town in the Western part of the country and the 5th poorest municipality in El Salvador. The volunteer I was visiting was under the impression that we were to have a “campo” experience, and I was under the impression I would be staying with her, but I was wrong. So after visiting and meeting the mayor of the town, we start off to the countryside, where I’d be staying. So when I say countryside, I really mean death trap. For example, after we started our hike to the site, we curved off the beaten path, into the woods (where I could’ve never re-navigated), shimmied between lots of barbed wire posts, we passed cattle and fruit trees and then, there was a fairly rapid river ahead, but I was sure that we would be arriving at the house before the river, but I was wrong. Ahead of me, I saw a tree/log bridge that I was to cross before we got to the house. Talk about having a tough commute to work…eeek…but I am still around to write about it, so it was an experience to be sure.

The deathtrap commute isn’t even that interesting compared to my surroundings upon reaching my destination. I arrived to meet the lady of the house, a very corpulent, loud, interesting woman who was busy readying the crops that she sold at the market, which included swinging a very large knife while chatting me up (I was trying my best to understand, but lots of people lack proper dental hygiene here, and she was missing more than a few teeth, making it all the more difficult). The lady of the house was surrounded by 5 dogs, 50 or 60 chickens and 2 roosters, 5 other birds (who apparently sung beautifully, but I didn’t think they were singing so sweetly at 4 in the morning), 6 parakeets and a ton of vegetation and flowers and they gave me a tour of the all of the crops behind the house. I ate everything straight from the tree, and apparently grapes not only grow on vines, but on trees as well. I felt like I was such a country girl, but I don’t think they thought I was, even a little bit. When we got back from my tour, a chicken peed on my foot. For all of my brilliant city friends back there in the states, a chicken doesn’t start a nice flow of pee like you and I, but it all comes out in one quick, huge squirt, which makes it exceedingly difficult to actually move one’s foot. The house itself was divided into 2 rooms, with the kitchen and facilities all outside, and I slept in one of the rooms with 4 other girls, who were incredible. I can’t imagine someone in the US opening up their house for a night to a stranger who barely speaks the language and people here do it all the time for FREE, without a second thought. The people here are incredibly hospitable and generally fun to be around. El Salvador gets an especially bad reputation in the States because of the massive gang activity, just as we get a bad rep around the world for some badly handled US policies, but it’s so important to recognize the good, amazing people over the rest of the craziness.

After spending the following day and night with the volunteer and attending my first Quincineera party that evening (when I girl turns 15 here, there is a HUGE celebration, complete with a mass and her own personal lecture from the priest, and an awesome party afterwards) and seeing my first giant scorpion on the toilet, I left the following morning to meet my family at their daughter’s ranch, which was beautiful. I got to make pupusas (the famous food here), which are tortillas with myriad ingredients inside, naughty talk….so so good. They have an actual verb here, “tortillar” or to make tortillas, which is a lot more difficult in practice than in theory, I’m not domestically inclined in the first place, so you can imagine how beautiful my pupusa was. I’m totally and completely exhausted, which is the norm for me here…it’s a great way to feel every day, mainly because it’s the only way I can sleep through the roosters at 3 am.

I’ll preface this blog by saying that I never wanted a blog (because it is a horrible word in and of itself), but when I call home, I want to talk about what is happening with everyone else, not the crazy happenings here, hence, my blog is born.

After saying a tearful goodbye to the fam in Washington, D.C. about three weeks ago, I started saying my hellos to my fellow volunteers. A varied, interesting group, mostly young with one viejo who is 70! (and amazing), we all started the get to know you process.

We arrived at the airport in El Salvador to our guide, who was wearing a T-shirt that said “Hot water is 4 bedwetters” with a stick figure saying “I love poop” and rode on the all famous chicken bus (the general mode of transportation in El Salv), which included lots of loud rap music, Jesus Christ paraphernalia, stuffed animals, and very close quarters. (People on the chicken buses hand off their bags, children, and animals to whoever can hold it, because the busses are so tight) The night we arrived we received our malaria medication and were finally sent off to sleep in a hotel-esqe place.

The next day, after a few crazy dreams caused by the quinine (malaria meds), I met the couple hosting me for the two months of training, and they are amazing. When I asked my senora for the address of her house (just for reference sake), she looked at me like I was freaking nuts, and told me everyone knew where she lived, on the street with the church (duh Linsey!).

Then I learned something very very important about my new life here. It turns out that the roosters think that dawn starts at 3:30 am, and that roosters are like barking dogs in a neighborhood, once one starts, they don’t stop. Hey, I turned into a heavy sleeper though, Brightside. As well, I learned how to wash my laundry by hand in the pila which is the water source here, and my senora and her friend were laughing at me washing my lil undies, and then continued to laugh when I hung them on the line… though I’m getting used to people looking, laughing (with or at), and generally just being a gringa in town.

I arrived in the week before Easter, called Semana Santa, which is like a glorified, super-uber religious spring break. For instance, we would substitute the body shots, bikinis and drinking games, for processions carrying Jesus through the streets, masses, and a Passion of Christ play. On Palm Sunday, the whole town came out to parade a HUGE Jesus Christ through the streets, stopping at various places to pray and sing. Later that week, the kids in the church put on the Passion of Christ play, where there was gasoline, fire, a live donkey, and a live hanging Jesus from the cross (keep in mind, these are all kids under 15). Legit, they crucified Jesus.

On Saturday night before Easter, I thought I was in a war zone (intermingled with the singing of hymns), but actually, the church was setting off rockets every 30 minutes simulate the resurrection of Christ. I would’ve picked a more reasonable hour, but it is tradition to stay up all night on the Saturday before Easter…EEEEEEEK!

I went to the beach with my family on Easter (the only day we didn’t go to mass), which I found strange, but the beach is the beach. It was a very strange cultural experience because 1. There were only 3 gringas on the whole beach, which drew lots of attention and because 2. We wore bathing suits, which normally wouldn’t really defy logic, as we were at the beach, but most of the Salvadorans wore their clothes in the water and on the beach.

(Forgive the incongruence of the blog; I’m cramming a few weeks in here) We’ve had lots of classes and lots of discussions about the culture here, which has given me lots to think about, so I’m obviously left with lots of questions about the culture, the language, the social norms (i.e. men think that it is completely OK to throw out lots of “hola mamacitas” and “halo babys”), gender roles, and myriad other questions that I’ll probably never answer. I’m pretty much elated about being here, loving it completely. Hopefully I’ll stay Dengue Fever free, stomach worm free, and malaria free. Until I can find more Internet access, hasta luego!