After a long time of procrastination, I finally went to El Pital, the highest point in El Salvador. Unfortunately, the northern region has been under pretty legit cloud cover, and while the hike was great, and worth it, the view from the top was pretty hilarious, and the temperature was insanely low.

El Parque Central, La Palma, Chalatenango

This might look like nothing, but if you look close, you can see a very brightly painted store.Closed up tight.

Dan, in front of the beautiful view of the the country.

My best "Never Ending Story" pose.

View through the patches

Mama Cabra

Baby Cabra

Step mama cabra. These were the only animals I saw during the while 11km hike.

To stock up for "the work ahead" that our three day medical evaluations would occasion, I, along with two other COSing PCVs went out for a hearty lunch followed by a quick Super Selectos run. I put my items on the conveyor belt and felt a pang of shame. As further evidence of my suspicions that I may be an 80 year old woman, my purchases spoke volumes. Drinkable papaya yogurt, a liter of water, clorets gum and a 6 ounce packet of seedless prunes.

I'm perfectly healthy, but I have to admit, this long medical process makes me anxious.

As I sat in the PC Prado this afternoon on my way to the dentist, I looked down at the three small paper bags I had placed by my feet. Three bags that held three cups with three brands of poop in them. I was tocared to llevar las muestras to the lab. It somehow didn't seem weird. Like three sinister lunch bags, they had our names on them. One of them, out of caution, also had the word "poop" written on it, just in case anyone became confused.

In the last two years I've learned a lot. I've learned a lot about heces.

Did you know that there are some worms that lay eggs in your lungs? After that, you cough them up, and swallow them back down into your stomach, where they hatch and reek havoc on your digestive system de nuevo. Did you know that tapeworms can grow to 10 meters long? They can be made up of thousands of segments, and each can reproduce. Horrifying. I can't say I know about that first hand, but imagine. Tricky creatures.

I've only had a few bouts of amoebas and bacterial infections. Frankly, I've been lucky. But then I think about what that means. I had very gross things in my system. I was in contact with non-hand washers or drank water a little too far downhill... and then... BLAMMO, contaminated.

While my personal experience is limited, here are the nuggets of wisdom life has taught me: Unless the signs are flashing an absolute, bright red NO, it's worth it to go for the curtido with your pupusas, they aren't really worth it without. It's a better use of time to just pull a guacal into your bed than go running to throw up into the toilet. The hospital in Sonsonate is an awful place to spend your day on a re-hydration drip after four days in site with amoebas. I reject the re-purposing of baby food containers in clinics. You can not drink alcohol while on Cipro.

Now you know too.

Finally, I know that I spent a day with a group of COSing PCVS, and we talked an awful lot about poo, and in a few weeks time, we're all going to learn that such things have a blanket ban when it comes to normal, human conversation.

So I had to write this considerably tame poop blog now, to get it out of my system.

I should have done this the other way around, but here is the list of things I won't miss here in El Salvador. I think it's a pretty reasonable list. Fair. I felt my skin flush with a couple of them. All in all, I love El Salvador, but there are just some things I can't wrap my open-mind or patience around. Little nags, and big issues. All part of the experience.

And just for the record, 23 days till the Central American Farewell Tour begins. Maybe we should get some shirts made up.

Getting el gripe. I have been pretty fortunate when it comes to the number of tummy problems I've had in ES, I have been strangely unfortunate when it comes to constant, lingering colds.Roosters. Only good for screaming at.Thick, smooshy tortillas.Boquitas Diana. They're NEVER as good as you want them to be.People spitting on the bus, or your floor, or anywhere.Foot soup. It's tasty till you get the foot... or the heart, or kidneys.LitterTamalesKolachampanCiproGoing to mass. As a non-believer, I have respectfully sat through so many masses and bible studies than I did through the first 22 years of my life. Por mi culpa, por mi culpa, por mi gran culpa.80's music and the tinny stereos it's blasted onRunning into english speaking deportees who trick you into responding and will not leave you alone. hair gelreading the daily Cifra in the newspaperWet ceramic tileInsane sidewalksPilsener beerbad judgementthe PCV bubbletourists that make all gringos look reaaalll badcatcallsLack of "indoor voices"Jaime's clipartboiling all my drinking waterEastern Terminalthose candy vendors on the bus who place the candy on you, even when you do your best to not let them. They always find a way. Pro.The "grab both handles by the door" move.mosquitoes"less than successful" bus ridesracismmachismorose-scented toilet paperbeing asked if I'm "Barca" or "Real" almost daily. Don't care. Don't watch soccer. No TV, less interest.constantly smelling like wood smokea persistent sweat mustache when I hit warmer regionspanzas. Mine, his, hers, theirs. All of them.burning plasticgetting creepy text messages from my lobo hostbrotherNot having a word in spanish that means creepy. The best option for pizza is Pizza Hut.Jalisco hot sauceperpetually dirty feetbuying phone time by the dollarSpending tons of money and energy on velas and cajas and monthly dinners on the death anniversary, yet letting kids grow up with no idea when their birthdays are because it's never celebrated. (Unless she's a girl and she turns 15, in which case you'll spend all of everyone's money on the quincenera and then have none to keep her in school...) Just saying.bolosspoiled sonsBus preachers. Always screaming about the lord.Nasal singing. The shameless interchangeability of the letters B and V. Botar and Votar are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS!!! Side note to the bicho who spray painted "Rebolution!!" on the curb outside of the village. I roll my eyes every time I pass, may your uprising fail.Standing out like a 5 foot 7 inch, fair skinned, green eyed monster.the crunchy texture my hair has taken onPeople in the US asking me how things are "south of the equator." Because I have no idea.going inside and ending each day when the sun goes down.street dogscockroachesbeing proposed to by visa seeking strangers, or their wivesbeing asked to give all my things to cualquier fulano.Being on a micro when it breaks downthe non-existence of sarcasm soccerAnd a Bonus Video to boot. To be fair, its pretty boring, but I've been thinking a lot about my Kids back in El Cocalito, and missing them. Sometimes you have to take a walk down memory lane. Here's a quick clip of Dan Clarahan teaching the kiddos some karate at the school. We finished with a lesson on bow throwing into a punching bag. It was pretty great.

I will miss...

Speaking Spanish

Making purchases by the quarterYucca FritaPupusasCooking with wood fireWashing my clothes by handHammock NapsWeekend TravelAlfajoresLatin musicThe Gallardos and the AlvaradosKids campsBeing really excited about going to a real supermarket, especially if there is Peanut butter to be boughtComparing notes with fellow PCVs on Sulfur burps, fevers, bug bites, and stomach gurglesMaking cowboy coffee out of strong, local, powder-ground coffeeLetting my hair go wild with the humidityHard, Paste dishsoapMosquito netsRegular door to door fruit/veg/icecream/lightbulb/hammock/bread salespeopleEating with my handsWalking through marketsGlaring at piropo making bichosBeing disconnected from the outside worldNot tippingGreeting people on the streets as I passOpen-air road travelUsing the "my phone has no minutes" excuse for why you never called that fulan@ backPlaying the "como se diceeee...." gameBucket bathsFrijoles in any possible mannerTeaching kids new thingsThe slow lifeConserva de coco on the 259 bus routePretending to not speak spanishShameless bilingual gossipingMy Best friend, MilenaBeing able to use my lowly bachelors degree before my name. Soy, Licenciada Yessica Hid-le-soYouth GroupsFrilly ApronsFresh eggsSeeing kids in their school uniforms, pressed and polishedJocotesBalancing things on my headComedorsNeighbors' tiendasSalva ColaMaking ShampooKick Ass womenEncountering english phrase shirts that just don't work right.Adorable brown babies in cloth diapers and sapitosMonkey screaming after a good laugh, or when it's time for recessBuying DVDs for a dollarSunshineBeing recognized with a smile at Cafe d Cafe, Sisimiles, the recarga stand at the Sonso terminal, the Especial to El Poy, Don M, La Teja, etc...The 30b route through San SalvadorDinner at Miriam's house, every SundayFeeling like this country and this experience have made me into a complete, powerful person. There's nothing I can't do after succeeding at this.

Photo Evidence.

Not the best misplaced shirt I've seen, but she works it

Some of my Como planear mi vida girls on our field trip

Cute baby in a gown an cowboy hat? Adorable.

One of the many, many views of beautiful volcanoes in this pais

Pinatas. I Fear and love them.

My Como Planear mi Vida boys at school in their uniformes

This baby chick was tossed into a well by Brian. Bien tremendo

Two things I love. La cena cooked over an open flame and Milena

El Zarzal kids going down mainstreet

On a Field Day with Pati and her friend at Cerro Verde

Ooi! Dulces!

Escuela Americana camp at Lago Coutepeque

Me, getting the tour of terrain from this guy.

Meeting the (hopefully permanent) American Ms. Ambassador of El Sal

My Favorite coffee cups

My Girls, in our Tie Dye

Goobers.

My Women's group at my house in El Cocalito, gossiping.

Our shampoo operation

My Gallardo Girls at La Barra de Santiago this Christmas

I Love Leafcutter Ants, and we share a love for Mandarine Oranges

S'more making 101.

Laundry day in El Cocalito

Ugh, marching bands...

Baile! I love when they keep it tipico.

What's the Lunch Special? Gallina india, pues.

My comadre and I at Christmas

$2.50 for Panama's freshest, tastiest ceviche.

Thanks defective, right ovary and subsequent medical evacuation!

80's theme party, Perquin, Morazan

Due to the recent changes in security measures and protocol San Salvador is basically closed off for anything besides medical or official business, which is a big change for PCVs in this little country. I am thankful that the COED-RHS group had the great fortune of coming in on time to have the last blazing San Salvador swearing-in party and be closing our service right as all these changing are coming into play.

Because of these new changes, I am stuck in San Salvador alone. The main streets to the Eastern Terminal were closed and I missed the last especial bus to my site until Monday. Two nights of hanging out... snooze.

Thankfully I had a great time with all my friends at Costa del Sol in La Paz, and then we brought it back to the capital for an "official" COS all night party. I had a blast from bar number one to bar number two and even waiting 45 minutes with the ladies and Don Marcelo, our favorite taxi driver, in the drive in line at McDonalds. Bed was a blessing at 4 am.

My COS date is the 10th of February. Clarahan and I bought our plane tickets today. I'll be landing in PDX at 8:30 pm on the 23rd. (Meet me, we'll have a party.) I can hardly believe it.

I feel a sinking feeling throughout. I feel panicky, anxious and am making mental lists of my to do's, don'ts and maybes.

I need to start eating with a fork, I need to not talk about gastrointestinal issues, I need to learn to talk about things that have nothing to do with El Salvador or Peace Corps. These things are not interesting to anyone outside of my friends here.

More seriously, I have been out of the US culture for the last 2 years. No tv, sporadic internet, spanish language radio, no social life outside of a few gringos and my community. This might sound melodramatic... but that's kind of a horrifying prospect. Diving headfirst into all of this, even though it will also be great, is scary. People find PC interesting for about 4 minutes, and rightfully so. El Sal has been my life, and I have little more to talk about.

We live in a little bubble here, and defend it's borders, in some ways. So we never have to confront this problem. However, a few weeks ago, I spent time with non PCV gringos, and the realization hit me.

I'm socially stunted.

On the plus side, I'm really looking forward to having new conversations. Throughout these last 2 years I've been reusing conversations, jokes and interactions. For my part, I always privately blush when I re-use a joke with a second group of people in the US. Contrived. Here, it's just a part of immersion. You use whatever technique you can to get people to laugh, to interact, to like you. It's a cheap, useful, and fuerte tool.

You know how many times I've had the same conversation about mitos and frijoles and las lluvias? Igualito. Down to the punchline. Exactly. The. Same.

Cheap. Socially cheap.

I guess on the plus side, my absolute ignorance of basically everything will hopefully lead to some kind of conversation... I'll be schooled. Hopefully, I'll at least have the pleasure of having good tasting microbrews on the table while I learn the ways of the new world.

I feel that if you want to get to know someone, you can get pretty far by listening to the music they like. For me, it speaks volumes when a person doesn't have any chispa, or passion, for music. In the last two years, music has been a tool for evil, in the form of bumping techno or 80s music coming from my neighbor's house at all hours, and for good. The good outweighs, of course. Volunteers share music and share the experience. I taught kids songwriting and dancing, and the music brought us together. You want to make connections with people when you don't speak their language so well, quite la pena and belt out some popular spanish song, and they won't let you forget about it for the next two years.

I can get lost in music, and one of the perks of going back to the US, is that I will have even more music to absorb. But these are the top 26 songs that will always and forever be ingrained in my mind as Peace Corps, 2010-12. I should note, however, that these are the ones that I actually like. The list of songs that I had beaten into my brain against my will over and over again (this includes Bob Seger's Down on Mainstreet, UB40s Red, Red Wine, and a random Techno song called "its my life") will have to wait until I can manage to listen to them again and rank my hatred.

So let us begin.

Calle 13. Anyone who knows me, knows that I've been a total nerd for Calle 13 since2008.

Due to their sheer, amazing talent, they top the list en general.But since this is a list of top songs, not top groups, I’ve picked the mostfitting 4 tracks. But they will always win... hands down.

1 La Perla. Part of my “Buenos Dias El Cocalito” playlist, along with severalsongs on this list, got me through my time in Ahuachapan. Every morning….

2 La Jirafa. Ditto. Also, great video.

3 Latinoamerica. Just. Fucking. Amazing. While romanticized, sometimes youneed a romanticized version of your world. Perfect.

4 La Vuelta al Mundo. If I were to geta “tatuaje de calle 13” it would be from this song.

si quieres cambio verdadero, pues, caminadistinto. Yet, I already have a tattoo I'm not crazy about, entonces, that probably won't happen. Probably. Maybe.This makes the list most especially because it’s all about trading your boring lifefor a life of love, sand, uncertainty and vagando around the world, followingyour heart. If you don’t speak Spanish, you’re missing out, tragically. This seems like just the right place to switch gears. I’ll hesitantly leave 13th street for #5 en adelante.

5 Blood. The Middle East. I listened to this song (along with Miike Snow's Animal, which didn't quite make the list) over andover and over during the flights to El Salvador. I cannotlisten to it without thinking about how that felt. Literally flying into theunknown, with 25 dollars in my pocket, and knowing there was no going back. Sounds pretty sentimental, and while I don’t get sentimental about it now, this song touches the heartstrings, a little.

6 El y Ella. Ricardo Arjona. Personally, I really don't care for Ricardo Arjona… and eventhis song is so cheesy. It only makes the list because this song is my first two months in El Salvador, in Istepeque Spanish classes. Besides, whatwould a girl love better at the start of her PC life than a song about a gringoand a latina falling in love against all odds? Yeah, know better now. Horrid song, worse idea.

Not every song feels like a snuggie. I aprovechar’ed aplenty the fact that my community members don’tspeak english, to vent my frustration through music. That'd be the next 2 songs.

7 Fuck You. Cee Lo. Again, on the “good morning El Cocalito” playlist. Notcoming to my meeting? Talking shit behind my back? Well… let me passiveaggressively put this on at a medium volume every morning… TAKE THAT.

8 99 Problems, Jay-Z. I had at least 99. At least.

9 Bold as Love Jimmi Hendrix. Just around my 1.5 year mark, Jeremy Frenchsent me a 2 disc care package. One called “rebirth” for when I’m up, and onecalled, morbidly enough, “suicide” for when I just need to do a littlewallowing. This one is a gem of an upper.

10 Yes we Can, Pt 1. Lee Dorsey. This is just a good funky, song. Some lessons those bichos could definitely write down.

11 Cuando me Enamoro. Enrique Iglesias y Juan Luis Guerra. I know it’s from atelenovela, but what a sweet song. I can’t hear it without thinking of my campkids at Lago Coatepeque. The best.

12 Corazon sin Cara. Prince Royce. If you’re going to listen to“bachata-esque” music, you can’t go wrong with Royce. He's way better than Aventura. I'll say it. Even though themessage, which is very much like Bruno Mars’ “Just the way you are,” isridiculous, it totally works. Awee, sweet.13 No Me Doy por Vencido. Luis Fonsi. A song about nevergiving up. In Spanish. Cheesy goodness. When the chorus comes, you can’t help but pump your fistto the sky. Also, sang this all the time on the guitar with my kiddos. Good memories.

14 Thank You. Sly and the Family Stone. Because sometimesyou gotta dance it out, alone in your room.

15 Middle Distance Runner. Sea Wolf. Moody and sweet, but sweet in a backhandedway. Makes me take a realistic look into the future at my re-entry into thedating world. Pfft. Men.

16 Safe Travels.Peter and the Wolf. Announced the unofficial PCES Danny Sanny song, way backwhen we all lived in Istepeque.

17 45-46 was my number. Toots and the Maytals. AnotherJFrench reborn special.

18 Santa Monica. Everclear. Recently remembered that I’veharbored a love for Everclear ever since I was a tween, and I’m glad I did. ArtAlexakis, my fellow Oregonian, has no idea how well this song fits the Salvolife. Need to get out of your head? Leave your site, go to the beach, and getsucked out by that crazy Salvadoran riptide. Done and done.

19 Mariposa Tracionera. Mana. This song makes me crack up, andblush. This song goes on the list for Dr. Curly, PhD. Gotta ride the tide, man.

20 Malanina. Havana Mambo. It’s a little goofy, but as agringa chick in ES, you gotta put up with a lot of machista bullshit. Sometimesyou just have to own it.

21 I Gotta Feeling. Black Eyed Peas. Not a BEP fan by any means, but COED/RH 2010-12 had the last best swearing party. This was the song.Put it on, we’ll bring the house down.

22 The Greatest Sum. The Avett Brothers. Almost any AvettBrothers song could apply to this list, especially if I had written it in myfirst year. Pretty sure they made it on my Cocalito Hammock Recommendation list. As it is, the Avetts need to make an appearance, and this song is the bestrepresentative.

23 Old Before YourTime. Ray LaMontagne and the Pariah Dogs. I would be very mistaken to leave Rayoff any list of mine. Jolene almost took the list, but this song is sobeautiful, and just hits the spot.

24 Alejate de Mi. Camilla. As my BFF Milena says, They’reso ugly, but their songs are so pretty. It’s kind of true, and while it’s purelatin pop, that’s alright by me.

25 Single Ladies. Beyonce. Best Swearing in pre-party ever. Mr. Kennedy and I TORE THE ALAMO UP. :)

26 Sloop John B. The Beach Boys. Because sometimes all youneed to do to get through those rough patches is harmonize to the line “let mego home.”Here I leave you with a bonus # 27. Gotta bring it full circle.

See how I did that? Nice.

Here are some photos from NYE in Antigua, Guatemala. We rang in 2012 with some chispa, gin, rum and quite a few Gallos.

Met some lovely people, including the "Colombian Dave Grohl," the two goofy Louisiana non-mormons who bought a bottle of rum for the bonus dominos, and Krystal's lovely mom, Alex.

Anyhow, NYE...

I have always considered myself to be a very lucky person, but I have this sinking feeling that my luck ran out during that 10 minutes in the Antigua plaza, wherein at some point 2011 turned into 2012.

I feel like I'm recovering now from this crazy trip, and I hope that any little remnants of my buena suerte last me until I go back up North. Bad luck there is getting locked out of your car, or forgetting a bag at the grocery store. Bad luck here? Getting robbed at gunpoint. GO 2012!!

El Arco de Antigua

Sirenas

Ghost whispering

Parque Central, by morning

Taken from one of the only hotels with a roof in all Antigua. ;)

Delicious Life destroyer "Hey ladies." "Hey ladies"

Hipters ruin everything. Cotton, the fabric of our lives.

Why climb up higher? That's what it looks like.

Well, I took a lot of photos, as practice for my Farewell Tour '12 of Central America. I have about 51 days left until I shuttle out of Playa Tunco to Antigua, Guatemala, then to Honduras, and finally Nicaragua. We're going to end where we started by swinging back to San Salvador for a 2 am flight Pal Norte. Being a tourist, a mochilera, will be strange... but at least I know I'll never feel like a tourist in the Savior.

Anyways....This little Christmas Break to La Barra has chalked up to be just the right way to say goodbye to the Gallardos. The best holidays are the ones where you can celebrate and enjoy, instead of rush around, stress out, and go broke. We "remember the reason for the season." For them, it's vaguely about Christ, and for me, it isn't at all. So we ate, drank, and were merry all together.

Tomorrow morning I'm hitching a ride out of the painful heat of La Barra and taking the long ride back up to my "helado" La Palma. Less one guitar, one box of christmas cookies, and a full, kind of uncomfortable fullness in both my tummy and my heat. Aweee.... Touching.

Dinner, Indio

Would have been my Christmas card. "Happy Holidays from El Salvador"

No longer alive..

Those bad ass old fashioned metal sparklers.

Nina Carmen and Don Jorge

Sand Pyramid...kinda

"He's floating like Kris Angel" they said.

La Barra at it's worst. Apparently two vacationers were pulled out by the riptide and two lifeguard types went to save them. They were probably swept out too, if we're being honest. Tide's in.

Widowmaker.

Un, Do, tre, BRINCA!

After sitting in a slowly crawling chicken bus for an hour past the broke down Rio Ateos bridge in the noonday sun, and being violently pushed aboard my former "going home bus" the 259, I arrived at the desvio for La Barra de Santiago and hitched a ride into town.

Since then, I've had delicious lemon juice covered fried fish, chuco, icy cold bottles of coca-cola all in my swimsuit. My swimsuit, juntos with "campo appropriate" layers. Shorts. T-shirt. I brought my twin 12 year old host sisters down to the beach today, and went swimming in a denim skirt and tee. Felt like I was going to drown.

The best part of it all is that I get to spend all day, every day with my former host family. Milena and I were up till 11 pm last night gossiping. While we're culturally from two different worlds, she is the best friend a gringa could ask for when it comes to good conversation and a good laugh.

Today is "Christmas Eve" in El Salvador, since we will be doing our celebrating tomorrow. Fireworks, pollo dorado, singing and most likely, lots of impromptu dancing on my part.

I have to say, Christmas without the presents, the shopping, the hustle and the bustle is the best version of Christmas I can imagine. Unfortunately in the states we all get caught up in it, and expectations for the holidays set us up for failure. Here, at least from where I can see, everyone is happy because no one expects big gifts or feels the need to give them. One plus of being broke, all of us.

While I'm enjoying La Navidad here, I hope you all are enjoying Christmas there. Hasta la Proxima.

My 2nd year PCV haggard self with my girls.

The girls playing my guitar. I gifted it to them for Christmas. I can't wait to get back to my REAL guitar back home.

She's got a style going

One of the twins preparing the fish for lunch.

The kids rolling around in the sand. One of the worlds most itchy games.

The changes being implemented in PC Central America were interesting enough for the New York Times. Unfortunately, a similar story went out in a Salvadoran newspaper and the online comment board that followed was a sad handful of pretty harsh comments on PCVs which, while they sting, are really just another irritation.

Well, I can't say with absolute confidence, but it looks like the about to COS group that was scheduled to go home in March now has the option to leave sometime after our Closing of Service conference in mid-January. Still planning on traveling Central America after service, my friend Dan Clarahan and I have tentatively rearranged our travel plans for February, which would get us back in the US before the end of the same month.

This is a very sad situation. This place is near and dear to my heart, as is Peace Corps El Salvador. I hope that the staff, especially those in San Vicente, are not fretting over the holiday season, and that they are able to keep their jobs despite the big changes.

As for me, I just finished my med visit, and am only waiting for the PCMO to call me and tell me to get out of Dodge. I am so excited to get down to La Barra de Santiago and spend time with the Gallardo family for Christmas. However, being a short 7 kilometers from my former site and all my friends and not being able to visit them will be hard. El Cocolito is just not the place for me anymore.

Very Happy Holidays to everyone, and I will catch you all on the flipside.

You could call me tasteless, but I think I designed a helluva tshirt.

Can we have these printed up for the COS conference?

I don't know the exact number, but I would imagine that in quite a few of my blog posts I open with something like "Holy shit, it's the 19th of December!" or some such thing. Well, I just did it again.

I can't help that time in El Salvador is a tricky mistress. I hardly left my house all day yesterday ( you would have found my in my PJs, on my floor, embroidering and watching episode after episode of Arrested Development ) and yet, when I rolled into bed around 8:30, the day felt like it zoomed by.

The PCVs and incoming trainees got some interesting news on Friday afternoon regarding service in El Salvador. All the incoming trainees for El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua will not be brought in for "safety and security reasons." Fair enough, Central America isn't the safest or securest place in the world, which we see in the article on Genevadeclaration.org called Trends and Patterns of Lethal Violence. I'd link it, but why place worrisome information directly into my mother's hands? Lets just say: Doesn't it feel good to be number one?

The decision to halt the entry of trainees to El Salvador wasn't, in my opinion, a bad one. I love El Salvador. I really do. I generally feel safe (maybe just because I'm a streetsmart badass) and I feel that the PC wants to keep their volunteers safe. But there are only so many steps one can take to insure safety. No matter where you are, you never know what might happen when all your safety and security training falls just short. I feel horrible for the sites that are going to hear the bad news that no one will be coming to help them, but as the security continues to deteriorate, I'm glad that PC seems to be acknowledging the difference between the PC experience of cultural missteps, big projects, and exciting adventures and the experience of desensitized gringos, real anxiety and a legitimate unease in public transportation.

Anyway, the initial result for PCVs here in country when we heard the news was "and THEN what?" As always, the appearance of "chambre" worthy news led to the great gasto of tigo saldo, and everyone was telling or hearing tales of so and so told so and so and that fulano said that we're being evacuated by midnight... or some such nonsense.

Do I love El Salvador? Yes, absolutely, this is my home.... Would I mind if they sent me home a month or two early? Hell no. I spend my days shooting the shit with my women and embroidering tablecloths, not a hard way to live till March, but.... I would welcome a little Yusa in my life. (Lets not exaggerate what that would look like. Think, embroidering on my couch, watching expanded cable and being constantly on the grid. At least for the first week, while I work on washing the campo off my skin and re-learn using a fork.)

All I ask for is that I fulfill my winter plans. Christmas in La Barra de Santiago with my very beloved former host family, and New Years in Antigua, Guatemala, with my two beloved Daniels, and hopefully, lots and lots of my future friend, Ron Zacapa, by the flaming, devilish, glass.

Anyhow, I'll be disconnected throughout Christmas, but, I wish you all very Happy Holidays. Try to reign in your jealousy that I get to play around on the beach, eat chicken foot soup and light off fireworks throughout the holiday. I'm pretty damn excited for it.

Paz, amigos.

Ladies and Gents, I have less than three months left in El Salvador. Sweet baby Jesus. I hit the 3 month mark while floating with a liter beer in a pool in Tunco. If that isn't best way to recollect that I have to take these three months by storm, I absolutely don't know what is. I'll keep the thoughtful, emotional reflections for later, when I assume I will feel them... for now, I'm counting down and soaking it all in.

Next week I have my final visit from my Jefa, Clelia. After that I plan on going down to La Barra de Santiago to spend Christmas on the beach with my Salvadoran family (Milena, Ben, Mi Comadre and all the kids) I guess I do already feel this sad reality. It will probably be the last time I ever see them, and I will miss them so so much.

But anyway...

Since my last post El Zarzal has been a hopping place. A week and a half of constant, depressing rain, Fiestas Patronales, weddings, baptisms, and Gringo visitors.

I don't have much to say about any of that because, as I do, I waited too long to post and none of it seems terribly interesting now. Besides, I have the sneaking suspicion that while few people view my blog page, even fewer do more than scan the photos. So I added some photos I never got around to editing of the "Baile de los Viejos" from our fiestas patronales. Everybody wins!

Chepito and Tita

Don Jesus defending the baby from zombie attack.

My neighbors

Where did they find these masks?

And finally, Andrea in her first communion outfit. Got her to smile.

The day to day grind (which can just as easily be mind-numbing boredom) of Peace Corps feels pretty routine these days. The cultural differences, the language barriers and the quirks are so mundane that I have to look out for them to notice that they still exist.

Despite that, little nagging feelings sneak into my brain around 9 pm, when I'm acostado in my bed and wishing I could feel as tired as I did around 3 pm.

Along with the next day's to-do list, I find myself thinking about things that I can not do a thing about, especially not at night, in the campo. It goes, almost always, in this pattern: How many days do I have left in site? What do people say about me? They probably don't talk about me at all. But they will. What will people say about me when I'm gone? Oh my, I can't wait to get home. What will I do when I get back. I should start looking for a job. I want to live in Oregon. But who the heck would hire me, and where do I even look for work? I'll end up back somewhere like the Boys and Girls Club. I should go to grad school. How will I ever have a successful life? Or fall in love, for real? Is tomorrow CardioX or arms and back + Ab ripperX on my workout videos? I hate arms and back... What would I do if more people in my family passes away? I'll likely get every disease that runs in my family. If I died right now, when would people realize it? What if I was shot. No, it's definitely Cardio X. Maybe a blood clot in my brain. I'm going to be broke and single forever.

I'm hoping that putting myself back into my own culture, hitting the play button on my life, and ironing out all those nagging unknowns I will be able to fall asleep without the morbid "sweet dreams monologue." In the meantime, I'm just trying to get back into my old habit of falling asleep to a good book.

Pajarito Llort Style embroidery Girl's dressBoy's Suit

Men's Shirt Collar I took a cue from my artisania lady friends and pimped out my old TOMS shoes. I very much dig it.

You would think that after more than a year and a half of beans, tortillas and fuerte dairy products, one meal of that killer combo would be the same as every other.

I thought so too. So I really can't explain how it came to be that I literally went crazy over my standard dinner the other night.

My host family cooks over wood fire. They grow their own beans, coffee and corn, which they make into frijolitos, cafecito, and hand made tortillas every day. About a week ago, Nina Rosa made some cuajada, which is like fresh, soft cheese. She also made some crema, which is the salvadoran version of sour cream.

I came into the kitchen and threw my tortillas into the coals, because I like them a little toasted and crunchy. I scooped out some beans, and sliced some cuajada into my plate. Nina Rosa invited me to try some of her crema, which, she said, was thin, but good. I pulled the tortilla from the fire, and started eating. HEAVEN. I can't explain it, maybe it was a question of ratios, or maybe I was really hungry... All I know is that I had to force myself to refrain from a second helping. That's like inviting the gordita comments!

Maybe those "100 mile meal" people are on to something. There is a lot to be said for the custom of eating food grown from down the street with the people who bring it from seeding to the table.

I have a combined total of $15 US dollars in my OSU Federal Credit Union bank checking and savings accounts*. I have a jelly jar half full of coins under my bed, and aproximately $120 dollars in a "secret" hiding place, which is a little wooden box on a low shelf in my unlockable room. I have no idea how much cash I have in my Peace Corps account, but I do know I have more or less 150 days left before I am hopping on my last 7:30 am directo 119 bus ride to San Salvador and starting my trip home to, as Alex Leffler puts it "The Land of the Free, and the Home of the Whopper."

Thanks for joining us here on the "Salvomoney" blog. Today's topic, the economics of (not) traveling.

About three weeks ago I applied for a American Airlines / Citibank credit card for the singular purpose of the free bonus air miles which I would have used to immediately purchase a ticket to Portland International Airport for the Thanksgiving or perhaps Christmas, holiday. The next time I checked my email account... I get this :

Dear JESSICA R HIDDLESON:

Why we're writing you

Unfortunately, after careful consideration, we're unable to

approve the Citi(R) Platinum Select(R) / AAdvantage(R) World

MasterCard account for you at this time.

Here's what you should know

The application was processed by a credit scoring system

that assigned a numerical value to various items on your

application and your credit bureau report. The

information did not score a sufficient number of points for

approval. We have denied your application due to the

following reason(s):

o Your credit report shows a lack of recent revolving

account information.

o Your credit report shows the proportion of loan balances

to loan amounts is too high.

Yes, well... D'oye, Citibank. I always thought that a reform of stinky, predatory credit card company practices was a good thing... but not now... not once it hinders me from cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and mircrobrews. Of course I lack recent activity... and OF COURSE I have a huge amount of debt... I just got a bachelor's degree. I make 300 dollars a month and store the bulk of my financial worth in a jam jar and makeup box... I'm the perfect target! But no... not now...

So, due to my economic inferiority it looks like those 150 or so days left of my Peace Corps service will be spent in the Home of the Pupusa. Which is just going to have to be fine. I'll get through the long holiday season (due to a lack of Thanksgiving demanding it's fair share of hullabaloo, San Salvador becomes a boiling Christmas wonderland much earlier than in the states) and dive off New Years Eve crest into the pool of COS, farewells and tying loose ends. It's all golden here, I will survive.

This is where I sign off... thx for reading!

*Yes, Indeed I DO bank at that lovely financial institution. If you have any interest in the "remesa culture" or would like to sponsor my travels to Oregon (or Guatemala, or maybe just the beach... depending on turnout) please feel free to make contributions! In return I will send (or hand deliver, again.. depending) a hand made piece of art from the lovely El Zarzal, Chalatenango.

Happy September 25, everyone.

Not that the date has any significance, though, looking at it only makes me think: It's only been ten days since independence day?! Uf-da.

Last Thursday I got a call from my BF Milena, who told me in her most excited voice, that she just got to Ahuachapan to visit her mom, and I needed to come visit her.

I couldn't agree more, so I bumped up my plans to get to a meeting in San Salvador and took of for Ahuachapan at 7 the next morning.

Two micros, 3 busses, and 5 hours later I jumped out of the "short-bus" to El Barro and had a dirty faced 4 year old Brian running up to me. "Yessshhhiiiicaaaaa!!"

Heart warming. I spent the rest of the day and the next morning with my hands down favorite people in El Salvador, catching up, chatting, and passing along all the good gossip.

Ever since I got to my first home in El Cocalito, Milena has been nothing but a good friend. We've had our minor tiffs (mostly though, I've had them, running imaginary dialogue though my head...) She has the kind of ridiculous sense of humor that I have always "llevar-ed bien" with.

Leaving the next morning, I felt better. I felt like I wasn't just a solitary human in this tiny, yet somehow isolating country.

I do enjoy my new site, but the acclamation is hard, stressful, and can be pretty lonesome. My friendship with the Gallardo family not only brightens my day when we actually get to talk, but reminds me that there are people here who have my back, and that friendships like that are possible here... even if the road to get there is long.

Cutie Pies

Literally the best breakfast pupusas I've had, maybe ever.

How we roll in my hood.

Cachiporristas in sleeves and pants!

Danza Folklorica. And THRILLED about it.

I think we were on the same page.

Choque de Bichos

Some super dinamic kiddos. BTW, The former PCV in El Zarzal did this map. Fine work "Elena!"

Well, I've lived though another 15th of September in a Latino nation. Wheew. Long gone is Morelia '08.

That's the good news.

The bad news is that I've hit the 6 months left slump, and with so little service ahead of me, I feel like I'll be here for eternity.

I've been really REALLY good though. I've kept my butt in site, I've pasear'ed, I've done a small census, I've been going to sewing classes and calling NGOs like a boss... But as truly nice as everyone is and as sano as my community is, I'm just feeling a little "meh."

I really miss La Familia Gallardo. My besties from El Cocalito. I've talked with them, but nothing beats a 5 pm coffee and bread on the front porch.

I also miss my family family. I even tried scheming to get back for a Thanksgiving visit, but stupid AAirlines was not in the mood to indulge a broke, creditless PCV. I never cared much for you either, Citi.

The plus side (and despite my grumbles, it'a a pretty substantial level of "plus") is that there are 20 women learning sewing basics in my site. I have 2 hours a week to teach art at CE El Zarzal, I've learned how to embroider by hand and run a sewing machine, the COED camp is going to be great, the women who make artisan clothing in my site will be selling at a feria in San Salvador, and might be selling in an upscale mall also in San Salvador, and we might be getting more electricity hook-ups.

So, I guess I should let go of the ant infestations, the fact that some people still only call me either "Elena" or "Muchacha" and just keep on loving this site, for 6 more months.

We had to cut sewing class short this week due to a death in the community. My counterpart's 94 year old grandfather and host father's father passed away, and the people of El Zarzal, as they do, dropped everything and came together to arrange two nights of vela coffee and refreshments, a mass, and a funeral procession.

This was one of my first experiences going to all the parts of a death ceremony in El Salvador. While there were plenty of wakes and burials in El Cocalito, most of them were not deaths by natural cause, and frankly, I am never in a rush to stay up all night, drinking sweet coffee and eating tamales with chicken feet inside. Especially for manosos y ladrones.

As luck would have it, my host family isn't terribly keen on staying up all night either. So the next morning around 10 we walked down to the wake and had our coffee and bread. They looked into the casket, and I did not. Then we just sat there for awhile. It was only women at the time since the men tend to stay up all night, playing cards and having some nips from a bottle of guaro. The conversation centered around a few topics, death, Christ, and then the bonus of going to a vela in the morning, you have an excuse to leave the chores of the house to wait for a few hours, at least. There are tortillas to make, floors to sweep, and clothes to wash, and while reflecting on Dios el Poderoso and the fragility of life, you might as well take a load off, let someone bring you some sweet bread and have a good gab session with the other ladies while you're at it.

The next day was mass. Afterwards we left the church, crammed into a bunch of truckbeds and moved at a snails pace behind the body along the curving highway to the cemetary of La Palma. We spent an hour getting there, 35 minutes by the gravesite, another 1.5 hours in disorden buying popcicles, chips and suckers and getting everyone back to the trucks and 30 minutes getting back to El Zarzal.

When we arrived back home, there was a small smudgy fire of pine boughs on the patio. You have to stand in the smoke and let it hit you all over, to remove any dead that might have hitched a ride back on you from the cemetary. I have to say though, if I were buried in that cemetary, I would've taken off ASAP, too, even if it meant clinging to a mourner passing by. When I die, I want to go into the ground. I don't want to be put into a metal box, which is then slid into a cement box which is then blocked up by bricks and mortar. That's like putting banana peels and apple cores into a plastic garbage bag. It never gets back to where it should, which is the earth. I told my host brother this over our beans that night, and he said, yeah, but that's kind of a dumb idea. Imaginese. If I were buried in the ground and woke up, how would I have the strenth to get out from under all that dirt? I couldn't. At least in one of those tombs, I could move around some, make some buya.

While passing all these cement graves, you notice little quirks. I remember in Mexico my study abroad teacher pointing out the remesa houses that had rebar still sticking up from the roof. For when there is enough money to build a second floor, he said. Here, the same applies for houses and graves. Many of these cement graves were prepped for upward constuction. I can only imagine a widower thinking, as he gives directions for the construction of his wife's grave: leave me 4 inch pegs, we're in a quake zone, and I want this to be bien hechito.

I've been in my new site for two weeks.

The contrast is astounding, in every way. I've moved on up. Up from the flatlands of coastal Ahuachapan up into the mountains near La Palma, Chalatenango, from the heat to the cool, from the closed to the open. My toilet has moved from outside to inside, and my bucketbaths have turned into cold, high pressure showers in my own, private bathroom.

The people are kind, friendly, and respectful. They have las ganas to work, to better their community, and to do it through the sweat of their own brow.

And the women, oh the women. The Salvadoran woman is a thing indeed, but the women involved with the community association are kick ass mujeres. They raise chickens, they sew and embroider tipico/Llort style clothing, they lead bible studies, organize school events or cleaning campaigns, and they find time to run their homes, raise their children and make the cheekiest jokes.

Unfortunately, I haven't taken any photos... yet. When I do, you'll get a look at my pad, "La Casa Mision," the great view the community has of the sometimes misty mountains and coffee trees and the really charming embroidered clothes, as well as the equally charming women who stitch them.

The next 5 (though some say six) months will be a whirlwind, but I feel like they will be happy, fruitful, and fast.

I've made a list of the things I will spend on what's left of my readjustment allowance (after post COS travel)

And here is the (tentative) listnew Nike running shoes and a new sensor for my Nike Plus. ($100)a pair of perfect jeans ($80) and lots of topsa fresh haircut ($40)New contact lenses ($100)high heels ($50)makeup ($50)Job Hunt Clothes (all the rest)Resume printing... :|

If you want to get and send me any of those things, please feel free to contribute. The sooner I can get these things checked off the list, the sooner I can put more things on the list. :)

Do you speak spanish? If you do, you'll know what it means when I say: tejido adiposo, glandulas sebaceas y foliculos pilosos.

If you don't know what that means, think enclosed blob of armpit. Fatty tissue, sweat glands, hair.

So now we know.

Depending on how much umph I can muster, I might try to make it out the Miraflores locks to see the canal tomorrow. Can't go to Panama without seeing the canal, they say.

In other news, here are some belated photos from

my jaunt out to Parque Metropolitano in Panama city.

Leaf cutters in every Country! My Favorite.

Beware.

A quiet, solo, two hour hike,

and all I saw were trees and lots of ants.

Panama

Last week I packed up the entire contents of my house in El Cocalito, and despite my pleading that the news of my departure be kept under wraps, everyone knew.

I had more visitors in the days before my move than I had in the last month.... Some people came over, crying, and I had to half feign the same level of emotional distress. Other people came by to pretend they'll miss me, but mostly just ask what I am leaving behind... "Va a llevar todas las cosas, Yessi? No me puede regalar alquel boladito?

Irritating, but not surprising.

When I went in for my last day of art class (world map crash course/brain melting insanity) I was rewarded with a surprise goodbye party. They led me in to the classroom blindfolded and popped a confetti balloon over my head. The kids thew in money to buy a cake from Anthony's pasteleria, plus soda. They had the classroom all decorated with balloons and wrote messages all over the whiteboard wishing me well and hoping that god blesses me.

Despite how often I complained about these kids, and how often so many of them would drive me insane, this was the first time I had tears that I couldn't instantly suppress. I felt some of the weight of my time in El Cocalito/El Rosario coming clear, and felt good.

Now I know. In between El Salvador's real dead bodies, and fake dead bodies, and abuse and frustration and roadblocks, I guess, there are relationships and events you need to let in and those are the things that will make you cry, but from happiness.

Saturday in Panama. I decided to do some touristy things. I followed all the guides that pointed to Casco Viejo and Old Panama. The literature said it was one of the best attractions for Panama, after the canal, of course.

It was a 1.50 cab ride (though, strangely enough, 3 to get back to the hotel... curious.) I arrived tipo 10 in the morning to do a couple hours of wandering before grabbing lunch.

The neighborhood is slowly going through repairs as it becomes a trendy place to buy property, so there was a lot of construction along the streets.

I made a covert purchase of a Panama hat and hit it in my backpack. (I'll BUY one, sure, but I'll wait to get back to El Salvador to actually WEAR it. - Oh, and also while alone in my hotel room while writing this. heh.) After ages of looking for just such a hat, I'm pretty happy with the purchase, even though Panama hats are actually NOT from Panama, originally.

Well, long story short, Casco Viejo was kinda cool. I planned on hitting the Metropolitan Nature Park in the afternoon, but it started raining, so I abandoned ship mid taxi-ride. Tomorrow.

Things in Panama are fine, though I have to say the allure of traveling alone has worn off. Places aren't as fun when you don't get to share them, first hand, with anyone. My surgery is slated for Monday, at the Hospital Punta Pacifica. I'll probably be there a few days, then back to the hotel.

Cathedral

Municipal Workers, haciendo la limpieza.

Saint Peter

The Panama City skyline from Casco Viejo, and fishing boats.

Rock on, Senor.

Wagner and Shakespeare

My 2 dollar Ceviche Combinado from the Fish Market. Octopus, shrimp, scallops, and such with repollo, lime and tastiness.

For sale. The neighborhood is still in a HUGE transition. Poverty and wrecked buildings next to luxury second homes and vacation properties

Another quiet plaza

The Kiddos

Pretty Bird

Museum

Look Out

Modeling

My GodsonAlso Modeling

Real Life Peep

In Two Assorted Flavors

World Map Part Deux

Preparing for a site change is a strange experience. I'm not working so much - just doing art and English at the school - and I'm trying to get my things organized.

One of the most difficult things to sort out has always been my trash.

Like so many rural communities, the Cocalito doesn't have trash pickup. I could "go native when it came to things like toilet paper or old scrap paper and set it on fire in my yard. But I drew the line at plastic. I packed up my plastic trash in grocery bags to take in on trips to Sonsonate. But eventually, the trash started to take up a whole corner of my kitchen. Beyond outsourcing to the Sonsonate terminal.

In the early evening, I walked out into my yard with one bag of trash like there was nothing to it. Then I set it on fire. The thing was gone in less than 5 minutes.

So I brought out another. It was like the trash never existed. Guilty satisfaction.

The next night I looked at the remaining hill of "Super Selectos" bags stuffed with refuse and decided to make things happen. Make sacrifices happen.

It was a hard decision, but it was time. I set a bag on fire, and retreated inside to grab the other bag that would go up in flames.

It had been a point of contention in both my host families and my school. The now gnarly, torn, stained, kinda moldy "Da Vinci's Gnome" bag.

It was time to let it go. It has travelled around with me since my first boyfriend, Michael, gave it to me. Since then it has been decorated, criticized and admired. It has hauled groceries, books, garbage and live hens. But it's era came to an end.

In the roaring, toxic flames of a farewell fire, the gnome was consumed.

New site, new bag. The women's group in Chalate do embroidery. A artesania bag will be just the thing for a new life in a new site.

In other, breaking news, I will be having surgery soon...maybe here in El Salvador. That should make for a good blog. I'll keep you posted!

On our way up to our second site visit, the super Silvia and I were cruising along past the great views afforded by the mountains of Chalatenango when, de repente, we are stopped by a man in uniform.

The scene was brutal and graphic. A seemingly small rockslide had taken down a tin house, and caused a tree to fall on a man, killing him and pinning his maimed body to the middle of the highway. People seemed to still be stuck inside the tin shack, and the normal array of onlookers and gawkers of all ages were clustered around the scene. TCS, a TV station, had a camera crew there, filming and interviewing.

After passing as quickly as we could, Silvia and I were totally bummed. It made no sense. Besides the usual frustration one feels whenever they see how the officials handle dead bodies on the side of the road, and how people fock to these scenes with their children in tow, we were also confused about how this strange accident could have happened.

Landslides or falling rocks aren't totally uncommon for the rainy season, but it hadn't been raining. And how did that man end up under the tree in the middle of the road? What a freak situation it was.

On the way back from our site visit a few hours later, we passed the place again. Nothing was there but some blood stains and a few soldiers. Depressing.

The next morning, Silvia called to tell me that there was an article about the accident in the newspaper. It had been a simulacro. A simulation. A drill.

The fuck?

There wasn't a single thing that warned passers-by that they were about to come across a horrific, but staged, scene and there is no reason to make a simulation so gory with maimed bodues. Isn't an imagination good enough? Doesn't everyone in El Salvador know pretty damn well by now what a dead body on the side of the road looks like?

So, well played El Salvador. Glad to know you are doing drills for the rainy season, but bummed to know that the theatrics of the scene are paramount to sparing people the roadside freakshow.

The good news, though, is that the site we visited was absolutely amazing. I can not wait to pack my bags and move along to this beautiful, focused, mountaintop community. I believe it will be absolutely worth the frustrations and anxieties of relocating and starting fresh. I think that last 8 months of my service will be what I had wanted from my first 17.

Or, Doce Corazones.

I had my first site visit today to check out my possible future home in El Salvador.

Going back a little. Things have been rough for a long time in El Cocalito. But recently things came to an unfortunate and seemingly hopless dead end. So some executive decisions were made and I will be changing sites in mid July after the necessary site development and closing up of my current project in El Cocalito.

This has been a hard decision, but I really feel that despite the somewhat short amount of time I have left in country, the decision to move will at least present the opportunity to do some real work. In El Cocalito, the doors are all closed, and the problems there aren't the kinds of problems a PCV can solve.

I haven't told anyone in my site that I will be moving soon (don't tell them, please, kind reader). That is a hurtle I am not sure about how to jump. There are few people that I don't want to ever say goodbye to, but the rest, I will not miss... ever.

So the next month will be about getting myself, my things and my head in the right place to make this transition, and once I get there, the other half of a site change kicks into gear. House visits, introductions, tepid coffee and figuring out the hours of the local pupuseria, 2.0. I would like to think I will kill it (even more) the second time around. Though, I have to admit, the local dialect situation is a whirlwind. Sure, you might be a fluent spanish speaker in Ahuachapan/Sonsonate, but you get yourself to some middle of nowhere canton in the mountains of Cabanas, and you might as well be in Brazil.

Tomorrow is part two of the preliminaries, and another site visit, this time in Chalatenango.Cross your fingers for me.

A work in progress at this point. Good job though, 5th Grade!

GQ in Cocalito

I finally turned 24.... after years and years of waiting.

Just by good chance, Dan Clarahan and I had planned on striking out east that same weekend to visit a few friends in the fresco climate of Morazan.

After a painfully long and cumbia filled cross country bus trip, we arrived at Jaime's site near Osicala and watched her girls soccer team kick some butt. Very cool place.

Then we hitched out of the area, and made our way up to the even colder climate of North Morazan.

The ever-gracious hosts that are Dan Hinkle and Krystal Atha threw me a rockin good birthday party at their house near Perquin in Northern Morazan. Hinkle informed me that a theme was necessary, so we picked "Pacific Northwest Hipster." Best Idea Ever.

In short, we played games, had tasty drinks, and listened to "obscure" hipster playlists. It was grand. A little later, we had somewhat better musical entertainment in the guitar abilities of Crystal's friend "Che" and somewhat worse entertainment in the Evenescence music his San Miguel friend played on his cellphone. But all in all, A+ birthday.

Thanks for everyone who called or wished me a happy birthday. I appreciate the thought. You're all so nice. :)

Going outside? Put on your shades...

You don't wanna mess with that.

Cake Trough.

Eeek! The classic Danny-Sanny

It's a hipster party, so someone had to labor at the guitar, trying to play, and failing.

B Day Cake. Cherry with Chocolate

We are all very funny.

Kitchen Time

Awesome.

Aren't the precious...

Las Ninas

Dan teaching my students to avenge evil.

Anita and Delmi painting the Wooorrllddd

A Video of the Karate Class

Dan Clarahan came to teach my students some Karate, they dug it

Then we had a field day, and played duck duck goose, tug-o-war, kickball, and some other diverting activities... all good, in the hood.

My Youth Group on my front porch, eating popcorn, cereal/marshmellow treats

and watching New Moon... they picked it out, man.

Photo attack of Haydee, aka "Comadre"

"Bienvenidos a mi Bautizo" Ricardito celebrating his baptism.

Mi "Host" Family.

Mi Pareja and dancing partner, Katarine, also "Celebrating" the baptism of her brother.

The procession in La Barra.

Semana Santa is OVER. I was sick for most of it, with a fever, body ache and tummy issues. Made hearing about the DOUBLE meals my brother and nephew got to enjoy on Easter just a little more bittersweet.

On Monday I made it to the opening day of Las Fiestas Patronales in La Barra de Santiago. In the morning I went to the mass with Haydee, and we baptized my new godson, little Ricardito.

Then we spent the rest of the day just enjoying the festivities and the evening being the creepers outside of the dance, watching everyone shake their stuff.

It was pretty great.

My youth group has been working on our World Map, and it should be done sometime before the end of 2011. ;P

Oh, in other news, the American Embassy in El Salvador posted their visit to my site and my project on Facebook.com You can check it out by clicking here.

FINALLY, I don't know if you remember, but I'll be turning 24 in less than a month...and in a totally unrelated note, my address is "Cuerpo de Paz PCV Jessica Hiddleson/Colonia El Cocalito/Correos Cara Sucia/Ahuachapan/El Salvador C.A."

Just in case you were curious... :P

salu... paz.... hasta la proxima

Happy Semana Santa, dudes.

Well, May is upon us, but I'll get to that later.

The good news is that I have taken advantage of the week off from school to get some stuff done around the ol' hacienda.

Number one, I got really mad at my landlord, (he's such a punk of an old man) and long story short took matters into my own hands and tore down the ramshackle ramada he put up over my pila that I always hit my head on. Then I built a new one. And it's so spacious, and not bajita, and doesn't have cucas crawling around on it. It hasn't actually rained since I put it up, but I think my engineering will hold up against the rains... Fingers crossed.

Other good news, I spent yesterday morning stirring, and stirring, and stirring. Then Finally, there was soap. FINALLY. Six pounds of lard, 400 grams of caustic soda and two.5 pints of good ol H2O.It should be ready to use in 3-4 weeks, and I am going to whip up another batch that is better for laundry in the next few days. Cross yo' dedos.

What else? Well, I guess I don't really have much else. I have been working on my map project and next week I will be working with my students to make posters and flyers about garbage and garbage management... Woop.

So, anyway. As I said, it's almost May now, and I don't know if you know this, but I'll be turning 24... Which is pretty crazy. 24, single, and no babies. Success! (Depending on how you measure success) :P

Salu, pues.

Everything is a little better now...

Just... so. you. know.

Happy Semana Santa!

What the shit is my deal?

I really have few ideas...

Tal vez having to see the 16 year old dead body shot thorough the head on the sidewalk of Ave Las Mercedes is to blame, but I think that was just one of the things to add to the list of things that are currently bringing me down. (I realized yesterday, that I've never traveled to another country in the first world... And I always see people killed by terribly violent means. I would like to try Italy... Ireland... somewhere peaceful.)

My March Melancholy hasn't let down, even though we're now very much in April.

Please, allow me this rant.

I haven't been able to make soap... still. Every attempt has fallen flat... just when I think I have it down, the damn stuff separates, and I'm left with nothing but rust colored water, oil and shattered dreams.

It is getting SO HOT. From experience I know that this will only last till June-ish, but the constant sweaty film and stink is just... demasiado. Houses of brick with roofs of tin are ovens...

But really, if we want to get to the base of the problem...

One of the blessings of the Peace Corps life is that I learned (finally) to be still, to be comfortable alone, to be able to fill my time when just hanging out with friends whenever I want is not a possibility. But, now we're at one year, and I've passed the ability to be comfortable in solitude, and now? I'm just lonely.

This is the part where some of my friends will do the wink wink - nudge nudge... "Looonellyyy, eh? heh." But it isn't like that. I just putz around and do my thing, but, de vez en cuando, I wish I weren't doing it alone. I might actually be going crazy, I've been talking to both myself and my gallina, an awful lot more, lately.

The plus-ish side is that there have been several other occasions in my life where I was a lot lonelier than I am now. So I guess I should just put up, or shut up (as in stop yammering to my pet chicken...)

In work related news, my youth group (my favorite 15 5th graders) are doing really good work, and we're getting geared up to start drawing our world map. Tomorrow we're making rice crispy treats, tie dying t-shirts, and watching a movie... It's the last day of class till the end of the vacations... (woo!)

My other 5th graders (the 55 I teach art to) are diabolical. We're making volcanoes this week... and after that? I think I'm bringing this little project to a close. Permanently.

Dios Guarde

The contents of my blog for the last year have been pretty up-beat. Part of that would be due to the fact that when I was in a bad mood, I didn't blog, and the other part is because I have been pretty mellow and happy here in El Salvador.

Well, today, I am not in a very good mood. A lingering sense of frustration, restlessness, isolation and a lack of fulfillment have been really killing my buzz for the last few weeks.

Yet... one of my best tactics for getting over my frustration is stifled. What is it about this country or this job or this climate that makes it absolutely impossible for me to shed a single tear?

It's REALLY frustrating.

Sometimes, for me, the only remedy for that overwhelmed feeling is to let loose and howl. But alas, besides the five minute sniffly phone call when I found out that my grandfather passed away last year my cheeks have been like the Sahara.

Often, during the most trying moments of Peace Corps service, the appeal of La Yusa creeps up on me and settles at the forefront of my thoughts. Imagining various ways I could find myself magically back in Oregon within the next year has been a tempting day dream since early March.

During the two weeks I spent at home in December, I think I cried about 4 times. Three out of those four were for absolutely no reason at all. If nothing else, if I went home, at least I could blubber like a baby.

In this country there is a lot of bad... but you don't see people moping about it. The people don't go around crying over spilled leche, so maybe I'm just taking their social cue. They have it a lot worse than I do, too.

Watching and hearing dogs get destroyed by trucks, knowing that women and children are being abused, seeing malnourished kids, being told by strangers that I'm bien gordita, having men make lewd sexual gestures and comments to me, being a part of a community that seems absolutely indifferent to my existence, and feeling a general sense of "blah" about my projects... Those are the daily frustrations, and yet... I've got nothing. Maybe it's time to find someone with cable, and watch Extreme Makeover, Home Edition... that's never failed to make me cry before. If that doesn't do it, maybe nothing but my return p'al norte will.

If feels like just yesterday I was filling out stacks of medical paperwork, rushing around during finals of my last term of college getting to get all my appointments done before I lost my insurance...

Now I'm in San Salvador this week for my Mid-service medical check up, and next week will end with a mid-service site visit from my jefa Clelia.

I am so glad to feel, even (or especially) after a year, that I am still sure about why I chose to apply to Peace Corps, and I am still happy that I found myself in a country like El Salvador, the little thumb of Central America.

I can't imagine being here, and hating everything about the country, the culture, the lifestyle. If my outlook was permanently hazed and darkened by resentment, frustration and anxiety, I would be on the next flight back home. Period.

My experience has been unique, with plenty of bumps in the road and challenges along el camino. However, I don't live in fear, nor do I pretend to be a different version of myself, and I know that, while I may not have built a casa communal and my projects are a little low-key, I have done a pretty good job for a volunteer in a challenging first time site. So far.

My rough days are different now and are usually the result of restlessness, boredom and an impossible wish that the only hard part about a project was starting.

Here's to the next year!

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter

and those who matter don't mind." ~Dr. Seuss

Pinata /smash in heads time.

WEE! Fun for the whole family.

Looking up the princesses skirt.

Paper Savings Banks

My Como Planear Mi Vida group.

Amalia, during a headlice checking sesh. Hah.

Volcano Santa Ana, from Cerro Verde.

Ladies in Red-ish

Bichas

Lil Princesses

Reinas

My first home grown egg

Future Egg 1, giving me the stink-eye

Embassy Visit. Thanks Ladies!

My Little Buddy, Adelso

Rosita and Henry

Traviesos

La Nina Reina making Sopa de PatasNina Francisca, Wearing the best shirt of the day.

Javelin wielding cowboy

Putting up more rings

Precision

(That's the Infamous Ricardo to the Left)

This Girl, Raquel, knows how to match.

"Sure you can take our picture 'For the church, wiiinkkk'"

Little Madrina

The Family, Christmas 2010.

Connor, with his new bike.

He was happy to see me.

After a great visit home, I'm back in El Salvador. Getting on the return flight was not fun, but, for better or worse, back in site it's like I never even left.

Besides being relaxing, fun and filled with tasty beer, my visit home made me realize that since 2005 I'm always coming or going, and that I would like to be more available, and live somewhere that seeing my family doesn't have to be a big trip or a long, long drive. While I can't say that I won't be living far, far away again in the future, it would be nice to be a little closer for a year or two...

Though I don't think I can live in Albany...

While things are in a lull right now, the next few months are going to fill up FAST. I got notice today that I won 500 dollars to fund a three month lifeskills program in my local school. I am relieved, and so excited to get going.

The women from the cultural affairs office from the US Embassy will be in El Cocalito on the 31st to check out my shampoo project. We'll make a batch of Shampoo de Manzanilla, let the ladies get their hands dirty, and see how it goes. When I got back from vacation, a few of the ladies from the women's group told me that the Manzanilla was giving dandruff, and the aloe vera shampoo went Chuco... So much for product consistency. I think we'll be moving on to soap or perfume soon...

The new group of volunteers will be here in a few days, and I'll be heading San Vicente bound to do some training panel, and possibly have my own "aspirante" here in El Cocalito for a couple of days.

This month also brings my community's Fiestas Patronales, so we'll see rodeos, horse races, dances and baptisms... The requests for my participation as God Mother should be rolling in again soon.

I will have been here a year, officially, the first week of February. A group outing to the beach (La Barra de Santiago, couldn't be more convenient) should be madness.

Last, but not least, Spring Break 2011 = Patt in the Savior. My first (possibly only) visitor from La Yusa. Should be a great adventure.

I would wish for more wishes. I guess I am selfish...

But otherwise I've been nice all year long.

So here is my Christmas Wishlist

SD Cards for my CameraAny laptop new or used, as long as it works.Sharpiesa 2011 agendaa new journalA pedicureInvitations out to local bars that serve frosty Micro BrewsMix CDsArts and Crafts suppliesa trip to The Chowder Bowl at Nye Beach.Lots of Hangout time with friends and family. I miss you guys.

I'm pretty much counting down the days. This week is packed with stuff. Work, a marshmellow roast at my house this evening, 70 bottles of shampoo to deal with, and PAC meetings to close out the work week. Next week is open, so far, but I have a feeling it will alternately fly and drag by. I'm too broke to do much, but I'll make it work. I can't wait to see my people and be overwhelmed by it all. I'm a little anxious about that second part, but all shall be well. Oh yes. And soon I will be in the land of the free and the home of the Brave. "La Yusa."

The Month of December is in Full Swing.

I have a little work and a little play in my agenda, and I started the month off right with a two night trip to La Libertad. Dan Hinkle's grandparents John and Beverly came to see the Savior and made great beachhouse-mates... playing cards, sipping sangria and dishing out lightning fast one line zingers.Some local Beachies

Waiting for the Mytical Green Flash

Heading out for a twilight fish?

Jugando....

Salvadoran Sea Cows With the change of the season, I have had a new array of plagues in my house. They all keep me company...

The Latest Intruder

They stop by several times a day. Tito and his little sister.

Despite local gossip, she is NOT my child.

BATS! They came back, unfortunately.

Milena and Carmen (or is it Cristina?) after we spent the morning selling chicken.

My Neighbors across the street.

The Little boy looks like Bobby Hill to me...

My pet Leafcutter ants.

These guys are HUGE and go crazy for citrus fruit.

I don't know what species of spider this is, but those tiles are 12in x 12in.

After I took this I went back to take another with something

else in the photo for scale, and he was gone. Cold Shivers.

Another Ant, working away. Despite my new hatered for shampoo, like I said, I love seeing the finished product. Here is the first in a soon-to-be-expanded line of handmade shampoos. Champu de Manzanilla... or Chamomile shampoo...

The elastic of my remaining underwear are unravvling at a rapid pace, I have adopted a fleet of leaf cutter ants as pets, it's getting REALLY hot again, and my tomato plants are as tall as I am and FINALLY have 'maters growing. It must be winter, and about time to make my way back home for a little vacation.

At this point La Yusa is so close I could smell it between whiffs of burning plastic and perfume (if my airways weren't clogged with snot and flim from this lingering cold from hell.)

In other good news, my women and I made our first batch of Shampoo, bottled it, and put the labels on. Those babes sold all the shampoo in the first two days. HEY YOOOO.

Next week we will be adding aloe vera to the mix and doubling up. I do HATE shampoo at this point, but I have to say, seeing the bottles all full of honey colored shampoo with the pretty labels was only bettered by how fast those women got them all sold. Bravo, ladies.

Finally, I bought a new camera memory to replace the TWO that have been stolen from me. So I've been taking some photos again. Though, mostly just of my ants, my bats, and stuff like that...

Next week I will be hosting a marshmellow roast in my yard for some local friends. These days, most of my 'friends' are between 4 and 14, so my late night activities have changed. Should be a treat.

Tomorrow will be a fun-filled travel day for a night in La Libertad, in a beach house with La Familia Pato. This month will fly by... I can feel it.

I was as surprised as he was when I said it... `You must be totally crazy.´

My wicked scoundrel of a counterpart didn´t think this day would come. From site development on he pleaded for a woman volunteer. Women are nice, easy to handle, and would never speak up against any lies, stealing or shady business. Hell, women probably would never even NOTICE the corruption.

Oh, but wait, Tio Richard. If you're going to invite yourself into my home, sit there and insult my intelligence, talk to me like I'm a 14 year old and then tell me that maybe I wasn't worth the phone cards and meetings it took to get me into El Cocalito, I will demonstrate to you how your ideas about women are incorrect.

But I will not stoop to your level. Because I will level with you. If you're going to go around behind my back, throwing snarky comments around about me and hinder my progress, I will speak my snark right there to your face. If you want to use intimidation and cohersive measures to keep your position of power over my community, I'll just have to tell you that those measures you took were unethical, unfair, and against all the statutes of your own organization.

When, the next day you call my boss to 'offer suggestions' as to how I should be behaving and such, please keep in mind that if you spent a fraction of the time you spent talking ABOUT me to other people talking TO me, you'd waste a hell of a lot less saldo, and maybe you'd actually get what you asked for: a badass woman volunteer who would get your ADESCO in fighting shape, so a second volunteer could help you all get a Casa Comunal.

But if you think that's what is in store for you, Tio Richard, you are totally crazy.

Another night in the city. This month has been chock a block with out of site time, but it's all been for the greater good: desarollo.

There happen to be quite a few new little tidbits of "chambre" to pass along. Blogging in bulletpoint:

• After damn near two months of medical vacation in Washington DC, the delightful Erica Matsumoto is back in action in the savior. A big thumbs up to her as well as the unknown organ doner whose ACL our fond friend will be using from now on.

• The one and only Ms Clelia will be making the trip to El Cocalito in the coming week to check out the climate (and I'm, for once, not talking about the opressive heat) and maybe, hopefully, using her fierce jefa power to break the Cocalito curse.

• Thanks to my counterpart's love of selling trees and small plants at 100 percent profit, an organization will be implementing a two year environmental project that includes a compost site, contra-littering education and (drumroll) a regular garbage pickup service! Yes!!!!! oh, and I have some exciting project plans of my own for the coming months, including a leadership camp for rural youth. Fun!

• My nightly yoga has paid off in a peace corps appropriate manner. I can hover over unclean toilet seats or prickly brush for the duration of even the longest pee. I would much MUCH rather be running, but whatever. My self image is algo low but my hopes are high.

• Im frustrated in oh so many ways currently. But technologically, I'm a mess. ipods and radios and broken laptops and podcasts and CDs. Jesus. I feel like I have my foot in two worlds. Like I'm installing a Garmin in a Ford Model T. Just send me mix CDs, and make them count.

• Selfishness, or rather, greediness is a recurring and frustrating theme here. In a world where the over uttered "prestame" and "regalame" mean the same thing in the end, my patience has been thoroughly tested and my trust broken. I wish people would stop asking me for money. I wish folks would stop asking me to gift them things. I wish I could just say no without feeling compelled to give an excuse or feel selfish.

• I saw my friend Philip Shilts bearded salvadoran twin at metro centro today. I think that pretty much rounds out my salvo twin spotting. I've seen damn near every one of my friends and enemies in this country. The little kid down the highway who looks like my second cousin Emry, the cobrador on the nice 259 bus that looks like my uncle Tony, my neighbor Oscar, who is the spitting image of the cartoon character Bobby Hill and now a coffee cup frequenting Philip Shilts whose surprising cameo this evening brought up a chain of thoughts:

* I told my friend Dan Hinkle that, due to his chronic inability to keep a hangout date, the verb shiltsed was created. No matter who was standing me up, it became the commonly used word for myself and my dear roomate Kelsey.

* I recently read a book by Sarah Vowell called "Assassination Vacation" in which she wrote about the rivalry between Edison and Westinghouse. After inspiring the creation of the electric chair by zapping animals with AC electricity in an attempt to demonstrate its greater danger over DC, Edison suggested that the verb to describe the act of dying by electric shock, which we now call electrocution, should be "westinghoused."

* the shower in my hotel room has an electric hot water shower head. In many of the hotels here, these things electrocute you. It varies from a slight staticky shivering felt on the knobs, to a full force Westinghouse to the body. Dan Hinkle calls them widowmakers.

* thinking of widowmakers my mind strays to the palm fronds that regularly fall from my trees. I did a little online research, very little, and could find no true statistics on the deaths caused either by falling fronds or coconuts. I'm kind of disappointed. I still won't hang my hammock in my front yard, though.