thanks for listening

ok. i have just under forty-five minutes to write this. Let us see what kind of damage i can do.

Training is over. I am now a Peace Corps Volunteer. It is thrilling. By that i mean WTF am i doing? I have left the lowlands of San Vicente for the lush, green rolling hills of Usulutan. The name of my town is YouDontUnderStandShitAboutTheRealWorldFentonVille. Fenton is my last name (mystery solved!), the rest means i have been seperated from the other gringos in my group and have been sent out into El Salvador with my MedKit, my Peace Corps Certificate Diploma Thing, and some basic instruction on how to help a few people and not get killed in the process.
Thanks for listening.
Yes, i signed up for this, yes i wanted this, yes i expected this, yes i am scared a little shitless (mostly because the other day i realized, in my heart, that i really am going to stay here for two years).
Let's see. I live in a small town near the capital city of Usulutan. Usulutan is both the name of the dapartment (think State), as well as the capital city (New York, New York?). Usulutan is hot as balls. Thank you baby jesus that i live in the hills. My town is a 30 minute climb into said hills. Said hills are beautiful. BEAUTIFUL. Green. Rolling. Vegetation. Trees. This country is largly deforested. Said baby Jesus (think 2 pounds, 8 ounces, still omnipotent) gave me a very cool little town in these here hills. There are about 8 thousand people. There is a very nice little central park, various places to get food (including pupusas ((think quesadillas, only with the cheese INSIDE the tortilla, without the fold, get it?)), the official foodstuff of El Salvador), and a population of people that are very interested in my well being (and by well being i mean every single little thing i do. for example: there are two 11 year old kids watching me type this. they speak less English than baby jesus but find it thrilling to watch me type. Frankly, i'm honored. If only the women back home were this interested in my daily activities, i, well, i would not be here. I would probably be Brad Pitt. Thanks for listening.).
For now i am not really working. And it is the toughest work i have ever done. Not really working means hanging out with people while they laugh at me and we get to know eachother. Not really working means learning how to do nothing really well, and by that i mean accustom myself to the rhythm of life here. It is slower. No, it is more deliberate. And no one is in a hurry. And no one ever feels akward but me. I live on a main road connecting two parts of town(which i love) and i leave my door open when i am at home, attracting both people i know and people i do not. Actually, i don't know anyone, even the people i have met, but they know me. You know? (sorry, poor attempt at humor((i said the word "know" 8 times)), thanks for listening.) Anyway, the life rhythm and akward thing: many of the people i don't know accept my silent invitation and come into my house and sit there and we look at eachother and i feel akward and they don't and it kind of goes on like this sentence. what i'm saying is that life here is, different, slower, deliberate, fuck-whatever you want to call it. and i like it. and i am getting used to it. Like when my neighbor came over to look at me this morning, i greeted him with a sincere smile and made coffee and he looked at me and i looked at him and it was nice. Then, he said it was good to see me and that he hoped i would have a good day, and left. i felt like i had taken the same quiz for the 17th time, and passed.

and i did have a good day, thank you neighbor. i went to a lagoon and a very cool little town, located farther up in the hills, and visited a friend (he's a volunteer as well- we met half way between our sites). we exchanged stories, talked shit to eachother, had lunch, hiked a mile up a volcano and sat at the side of the beautiful green lagoon, walked back down via a little short cut that almost got us very lost, but not before enjoying the INCREDIBLE views every 3.5 minutes. and it dawned on me. how cool is this? yes, every day there is something hard. every day i miss my previous and patiently waiting life (which ((shhh, dont tell the author)) has ended and will never return, thanks for listening.)

then we had lunch and i drank a beer and had a cup of coffee and took the two busses to get back here and went to the local school and talked to the principal and then i came here and the fifty minutes are up.

Thanks for listening.