My phone rings. It's long distance. It's probably Bill. I hope it's bill, but i still answer in Spanish.
"Hola?"
"So, kid, do you want Tiger, or the field?" It's Bill alright. We share a gambling vice, featuring the Father-Son bet for a dollar. The U.S. Open, held over Father's day weekend, is like our supper bowl sunday of the Big-Bill Little-Bill dollar bets. Like i always do, i posture and pretend there may be a decision to be made, but i know Tiger is my man. I tell him so.
"O.K. kid, you're gonna owe my a buck." Maybe. Maybe i would pay every buck in my possession just to be with you today, talking trash and passing the day. Your day.
happy father's day, dad. i love you so much, and am honored to call you father.
__________________
so, i am now part of a softball team. how cool? i have not played organized baseball for, for 10 years? Eight years. Whatever. And i have never played softball. This will all change a week from today.
It started two weeks ago. A knock on my door. I open it. Shockingly, there stands a salvadorean. She looks at me with almost squinted eyes. And it's dusk. Clearly, i am the whitest person she may ever see in her life. I feel honored. Anyway, she asks me if i would like to play softball.
"Does a Bear shit in the woods? I mean, si, si si si, softball, si si." She tells me she will come by in a few weeks and let me know. Surprisingly, last night, she does just that. Again she asks me if i want to play softball. I skip any eloquence and just nod my head. (i feel like im spelling half this shit wrong. sorry about that. i would spell check but my give a shit is broken). She tells me to be ready this morning, which i am, and when she shows up we walk to the edge of town and catch the bus to Usulutan. Usulutan is the big ass city 30 minutes away, and it is a beautiful 30 minutes. We get there, walk a short distance, and arrive at a park that ends up being THE field. I watch several games, and am very surprised at how well they play. My friend Maria wins her game, and then we sit together and watch the men play. At one point, they actually turned a double play.
A FUCKING DOUBLE PLAY?
Yes.
After the game (which included not 1 but 2 fights), i approach the winning team and ask if i can join. Someone tosses my a jersey. And smiles. "Next week. We play at 930. We have extra gloves."
I try and thank him but cant. Instead, i walk away with a grin on my face.
But i think i wave.
they understand. im just really excited to play softball. and to be a part of a team.
____________________
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
LOS GRINGOS ANDAN CON FIRPO!
First, the soccer game.
I am with a good friend, maybe the coolest kid i have met here. He puts up with my shit, laughs at many of my jokes, and likes beer. He's a shoe-in for at least a future groomsman.
He and i are pulling up to the stadium in a cab. I quickly survey the scene outside the car.
Mother of God.
Madness.
There are two types of people, defined by the colors they are wearing. Everyone adorns themselves with one of two colorful jerseys, identifying their loyalties. Everyone but me. This is the national title game of Salvadorean soccer, and the team from my region is playing, defending their title from the year before. Before i exit the taxi, i decide that i will have to buy a FIRPO jersey, mostly to improve my chances of staying alive. I say a quick prayer, overpay the driver, and slip out of the car.
The first thing i do is almost get hit by a car. This only draws the attention of about 1000 people. A good start. We quickly walk towards the stadium. I buy my jesrsey just as it begins to rain, again, forcing me to cover my newest, proudest pocession with my rain jacket. Next, we must find the box office or wherever it is we can buy tickets. But this isn't the Pepsi center. I don't see any valet parking, nor any signs announcing ticket sales. What i do see are people multitasking: singing and drinking; fighting and drinking; casing the passing gringos and drinking. And then, a police officer. I ask him where we can buy tickets. He escourts us personally, after recruiting two coworkers. This changes everything. I can now observe what's going on around me without assuming what i am looking at is the last thing i will see in this world.
And what a sight. People are tailgating, only instead of sitting beside their cars, they're sitting anywhere they can. We're not ever inside the stadium, yet i can already feel the electricity of 30,000 people.
We find the ticket office.
SOLD OUT.
"Hey Gringo. Need a ticket?"
"Dos. Give me the best you have."
He does. We pay 40 a piece, 10 more than face value. Again, we have an escourt, as our friend walks us to the main entrance and we get in without any problems. At this point, i am a wonderful mixture of relieved and excited. We walk through a tunnel at a minor descent (shouldn't we be walking up? where are these seats?), and then i can see the field, or a part of it. The grass is so appealing i can't take my eyes from it. And then we're in the stadium, surrounded on all sides by screaming fans- the game is starting.
We're almost ON the field. Puzzlingly, the best seats are in a general admission section. That is, the best seats are not assigned, but offered at a first come first served basis. And it's surprising empty. Rather that complain, we pick the two best seats in the house: mid-field, about 8 rows up. I'm now wearing a ridiculous grin as i observe every corner of the stadium. They crowd is doing organized chants and waving signs. I look above us and i am surprised to see many faces looking back at me. It seems these people are surprised to see two gringos, and still making up their minds about it. Thank God, we're sitting in a part of the stadium exclusively seating FIRPO fans. With their eyes still on me, i unzip my jacket, showing the FIRPO Jersey, and shout: "LOS GRINGOS ANDAN CON FIRPO!!! (THE GRINGOS ROOT FOR FIRPO!!)
Everyone cheers. And i cant stop smiling. I look at my friend, "where the hell are we?" Truly, it felt like we were visiting another planet. And we are the guests of honor.
We drink beer, trade more manick glances, and watch as our team wins in the last two minutes of the game, 1-0.
More madness. I'm hugging strangers covered in body paint and beer. We're singing "We are the Champions" and dancing in the rain. Yes, we are the champions.
What else have i got for you. This all happened last weekend, 10 days ago. Just a few days ago, i spent another night in the capital, in San Salvador, this time with a larger group of gringos and a smaller group of Salvos (about 29,950 fewer). But we have a good time. We exchanged stories about our first month in our sites, and i learned that most people have very similar situations, but the outlooks vary greatly. Get it? i heard the same story many times, but with a different mood, a different outlook. And i realized: it's all about perspective.
And there's my work here. At this poing, still, the work is about getting to know the people with which i will be living the next two years of my life, and how i might be able to help them improve their living conditions.
But it's also about the exchange, the cultual exchange, and i'm finally GETTING that, both it's importance and relevance.
From El Sal, with love.
Me.
I am with a good friend, maybe the coolest kid i have met here. He puts up with my shit, laughs at many of my jokes, and likes beer. He's a shoe-in for at least a future groomsman.
He and i are pulling up to the stadium in a cab. I quickly survey the scene outside the car.
Mother of God.
Madness.
There are two types of people, defined by the colors they are wearing. Everyone adorns themselves with one of two colorful jerseys, identifying their loyalties. Everyone but me. This is the national title game of Salvadorean soccer, and the team from my region is playing, defending their title from the year before. Before i exit the taxi, i decide that i will have to buy a FIRPO jersey, mostly to improve my chances of staying alive. I say a quick prayer, overpay the driver, and slip out of the car.
The first thing i do is almost get hit by a car. This only draws the attention of about 1000 people. A good start. We quickly walk towards the stadium. I buy my jesrsey just as it begins to rain, again, forcing me to cover my newest, proudest pocession with my rain jacket. Next, we must find the box office or wherever it is we can buy tickets. But this isn't the Pepsi center. I don't see any valet parking, nor any signs announcing ticket sales. What i do see are people multitasking: singing and drinking; fighting and drinking; casing the passing gringos and drinking. And then, a police officer. I ask him where we can buy tickets. He escourts us personally, after recruiting two coworkers. This changes everything. I can now observe what's going on around me without assuming what i am looking at is the last thing i will see in this world.
And what a sight. People are tailgating, only instead of sitting beside their cars, they're sitting anywhere they can. We're not ever inside the stadium, yet i can already feel the electricity of 30,000 people.
We find the ticket office.
SOLD OUT.
"Hey Gringo. Need a ticket?"
"Dos. Give me the best you have."
He does. We pay 40 a piece, 10 more than face value. Again, we have an escourt, as our friend walks us to the main entrance and we get in without any problems. At this point, i am a wonderful mixture of relieved and excited. We walk through a tunnel at a minor descent (shouldn't we be walking up? where are these seats?), and then i can see the field, or a part of it. The grass is so appealing i can't take my eyes from it. And then we're in the stadium, surrounded on all sides by screaming fans- the game is starting.
We're almost ON the field. Puzzlingly, the best seats are in a general admission section. That is, the best seats are not assigned, but offered at a first come first served basis. And it's surprising empty. Rather that complain, we pick the two best seats in the house: mid-field, about 8 rows up. I'm now wearing a ridiculous grin as i observe every corner of the stadium. They crowd is doing organized chants and waving signs. I look above us and i am surprised to see many faces looking back at me. It seems these people are surprised to see two gringos, and still making up their minds about it. Thank God, we're sitting in a part of the stadium exclusively seating FIRPO fans. With their eyes still on me, i unzip my jacket, showing the FIRPO Jersey, and shout: "LOS GRINGOS ANDAN CON FIRPO!!! (THE GRINGOS ROOT FOR FIRPO!!)
Everyone cheers. And i cant stop smiling. I look at my friend, "where the hell are we?" Truly, it felt like we were visiting another planet. And we are the guests of honor.
We drink beer, trade more manick glances, and watch as our team wins in the last two minutes of the game, 1-0.
More madness. I'm hugging strangers covered in body paint and beer. We're singing "We are the Champions" and dancing in the rain. Yes, we are the champions.
What else have i got for you. This all happened last weekend, 10 days ago. Just a few days ago, i spent another night in the capital, in San Salvador, this time with a larger group of gringos and a smaller group of Salvos (about 29,950 fewer). But we have a good time. We exchanged stories about our first month in our sites, and i learned that most people have very similar situations, but the outlooks vary greatly. Get it? i heard the same story many times, but with a different mood, a different outlook. And i realized: it's all about perspective.
And there's my work here. At this poing, still, the work is about getting to know the people with which i will be living the next two years of my life, and how i might be able to help them improve their living conditions.
But it's also about the exchange, the cultual exchange, and i'm finally GETTING that, both it's importance and relevance.
From El Sal, with love.
Me.
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