the street lamp across the street went out this evening. i noticed the change in light through the window and poked my head outside to see the stars looking back at me. my town is well-lit and i don't mosey to where it's dark to go star gazing, not yet anyway.
WTF am i talking about? somebody stop me.
another day translating today. more intense. i spent more time with the doctors in the afternoon, seeing many patients that we (yea right, we) could do little for. one woman started to cry. she couldn't see the eye charts and the different lenses were not helping. so i took her hand and asked her how old she was.
"82."
"No, i don't believe you. 50, no mas." we both had a good laugh at that. and we got her a pair of strong reading glasses so that she can read her bible. she told me that god blessed her by bringing me to her. what do you say to that? "no, really, it's nothing." i wish she could comprehend how important our little meeting was to me. she's seeing the doctor and im getting a reality check. jesus, these woman from the country come in dressed in hand made dresses, tiny woman that cant read and that have worked all their lives and don't ever seem upset and i have problems? yes, it's me. i wish our world had a happy medium.
fuck im tired.
tomorrow im going back one more time. these canadian doctors and nurses are heroes. they come from up north this time of year, and it's hot as balls in el salvador, 10 miles from the coast. the building is unairconditioned, they're using their vacation time to go down and help truck loads of people.
and in the middle of the madness is this goofy lanky kid cracking fart jokes to old men.
one old man asked me how well his vision would be with glasses. i told him well enough to look at pretty woman from across the street. he looked at me, unsure of what he had heard, and i was tired and couldn't hide a half smile, so he laughed, and i laughed.
what the fuck am i talking about? i told you to stop me.
anyway, i got on here to say that the street lamp went out becuase it's still fucking windy and i actually really like it and bla bla bla fart jokes bla bla.
Good. Night.

i wrote about the change in seasons here a few days ago, three days ago. The NEXT day, rain gave way to wind. It has been blowing ever since.
It's like a new country for me. Palm trees that just, sit there, now blow in the winds like sails on a boat. My house doesn't rock, but the roof might blow away. And the clouds, the clouds that used to sit in the same spot in the sky for hours now race towards the sunset, colors of red and pink and blue.
Beautiful.
Today was fun. I got up and had coffee (soon to be fresh from the hillside) and then went into Usulutan City on the 7am bus. The coffee puts me in the perfect mood for the dangerous and fantastic bus ride down the hill. I sat near the open door in back and watched the lush hillside fly by, opening up to a sweeping view of the ocean.
I met my good friend Betsy (who had a cup of coffee waiting, the darling) and we were soon picked up and taken to the government center. Waiting for us were one other volunteer, 20 canadian eye doctors and nurses, and a few hundred squinting salvadorans. In what felt like an hour, i talked to countless people and helped translate between Dr. and patient. I helped the nurses organize, and told a lot of jokes, the most popular being: "what do you call a guy with a broken condom? Dad." yes, the best jokes translate into any language. it was a good time. people who had never seen an optometrist were talking to experts and receiving perscription glasses. Some people were so stunned at having eye sight that all they could do was embrace the closest gringo. some lady kissed me. i held hands with another woman who was a little spooked by the whole thing, until she was given eye sight, at which point she practically ran out of the place to enjoy the day.
And a beautiful day it was. Windy as hell. Im going back tomorrow and friday, and im looking forward to it.

i am BEAT. not even gonna proofread this badboy. hope it makes sense.

good night :)

Summer School.

In the U.S. it’s for us slackers. In El Salvador, it’s more like summer camp. The school year here ends November 5th. For two weeks, a majority of these kids will head to the coffee fields with other members of their families and cut about a shitload of coffee, every day. They’ll get paid about $4 or $5 a day. I’m planning on joining them for a day or two.
Beginning Nov. 17, the kids that don’t have to continue cutting coffee will come and hang out with the Police and the Gringo. It’s a cool program, the National Police from nearby Usulutan will be using our classrooms to talk about subjects like self-esteem and leadership. Im planning on teaching dick and fart jokes in English. I’m actually planning on teaching some songs we can sing together. I’m looking forward to it. This will take place for two hours each morning for three weeks. In the afternoons, we’ll be heading to the soccer field and basketball court to play some ball. We have been committed a few coaches and refs from the national soccer league to assist. We’ll practice for a few weeks, and then have a tournament. Girls and boys will play separately. And it’s free!
That's all. Just thought you might like to know.

sunday evening.

I’m sitting in my house, watching the light outside my window change. It’s that time of day where the sky is filled with brilliant color, contrasted by the somber and darkening landscape. It’s like the day is falling asleep, her eyelids docile, slowly closing. It’s calming.
But the town doesn’t sleep. Soon, the day’s forgotten purchases will be remedied by the willing; children are sent to buy eggs and tortillas, the sound of their footsteps echoing on cobble stones. They are purposeful- the last of this year’s rainstorms quickly approaches.
It’s hard to imagine an evening without a dramatic rainstorm. My town is surrounded on three sides by volcanoes. This lets the marching thunderstorms arrive with little warning. The calm before the storm is almost tangible, broken by rolling thunder and lightning that fills my house like a flash bulb. It’s captivating. The rain has a suddenness, and an ensuing urgency that makes me stop whatever I am doing, just to listen. Sometimes it rains so hard I wonder if it will ever stop.
But it always does, and with little celebration. After it’s over, I am always compelled to open my door and see if the town is alright. As if the rain and wind and thunder would do away with everything, leaving me behind. But it’s still there.
I can smell the rain approaching.
This almost daily occurrence will soon change. El Salvador has two seasons. She’s approaching the end of her rainy season, what the locals call winter, only to see six months of rainless summer. I thought that by this time I would be ready for the change, but im not. Everything is green- the volcanoes, the palm trees, the endless corn and coffee fields. Soon, they’ll be harvested, the rains will stop, and, well, I don’t know. Because I had only been here for two months during the previous dry season, I did not really notice the transition to the rainy season. And those first few months in El Salvador were no departure from the year and a half I spent waiting to come here. For reasons I cant fully explain, this change in season will be the first time that things will really change for me in a long time. The transition from trainee to volunteer was uneventful. This new time, this new chapter, has been a long time coming, and I feel emotional towards it‘s arrival, but more so towards the departure of what has been a difficult and yet necessary and rewarding time in my life.
I think I’ll open my door, and pay my respects.