Saturday, December 19, 2009

Dear Billy

Everything will be alright.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Dear Emily Elizabeth

Dear Emily Elizabeth,

Yesterday:

I wake up and am surprised at how cool the morning is. I open the door to my little room and am greeted by a pair of large, brown eyes. They belong to a little girl, maybe five years old. She's barefoot. Her long mane of hair matches her eyes, a deep brown. I smile at her, not to reassure her, but because she seems unspoiled by the toughness of her world. She seems perfect. She smiles back, and then brings forward a little boy from behind her back. He's her equal, her little brother. We look at each other. Minutes pass. And then they're given the loaf of bread they came for, smile their goodbyes, and leave, the brother walking at a practiced stumble behind his trusted guardian.
Eggs. Beans. Tortillas. Coffee.
Delicious.
The bus ride into the city is pleasant. More people, their stories worn on their backs and faces; more countryside, covered in the early morning sun; more siblings, dozing on shoulders, fighting over snacks, altogether right.
And then I'm struck by the view. For a year and a half, I've been riding through the coffee plantations of the distant volcano, marveling at the beauty and content with the study of what once was the horizon, and is now my home.
Emotional.
We turn a corner. And for the second time, i witness the devastation of the recent tropical storm. A landslide rolled over a small village, sweeping what was left into the river.
We arrive. The market. I get off the bus and am shoved and pushed by the crowd. I sturdy my shoulders and push back, and am immediately given al the space i need. There's no anger in the exchange. Life here is an experiment of human discomfort. The limits, generally, are the relation of necessity to comfort. I push because there are too many of us with too many things to do to stand around waiting for the next person. But I am not excessive. In this way, we all get where we're going, a little uncomfortable, but no worse for the wear.
Outdoors. Tomatoes, onions, exotic fruits i still don't know the names to. Bartering, brightening sun, the press of a thousand smells.
And then i enter the mouth of the beast, the covered tunnels of the unending market. Plastic, paper, meat, fish, spices, people everywhere.
And then im outside again.
Deep breaths.
In front of me, a toddler stumbles with similar bewilderment, her hands held on one side by her mother and on the other by her older brother. The brother lingers too long in front of a pair of sneakers. The mother, enraged, thrashes her son on the head. He hardly reacts, but his sister bursts into tears.
Hours pass.
I'm back in my town. It's mid afternoon and unforgivably hot. Isabel asks if I would accompany her to a funeral. We walk to the church, and she tell me about the man that died. He was "bien amigo"-"very friendly." Seventy years old. Loved to work. He was in the fields, cutting sugar cane. His son was next to him. A heart attack, severe. He died within minutes. His son carried him home over his shoulder, sobbing. They mourned him with friends and family, sitting in the house drinking coffee and telling stories all night. Today, the funeral. We walk inside. It's full. We find two plastic chairs and put ourselves near a side door. I can see the family of the deceased sitting up front. They are all fighting tears. All but one, and she is inconsolable. I ask, Is that his wife? And Isabel tells me no, that's his sister.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

An Unexpected Change.

There is a church nearby, sounding it's bells. It's beautiful. And calming.

I am back in the City of San Vicente, working here in the training center and living in a nearby town. I am staying with an older couple, the same couple that hosted me almost two years ago as I completed my own training to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. What amazes me about this city is how different it appears to someone already adapted to living in this poor, amazing country. Instead of seeing trash in the street, I notice the beauty of the Church and her architecture. The traffic no longer terrorizes me, allowing me to greet the street vendors and actually become part of the town. It's soothing. Girls giggle as I walk by, whispering their requests that i "give" them my blue eyes just as I drift out of hearing distance. Old men walk with their hands behind their backs, their heads held high, envying and cursing youthful men in the same instant and without opening their mouths.

As a volunteer, I lived in a different part of the country. It, too, was beautiful. Because of a few security incidents, I will no longer be living there.

Leaving the town was difficult. I had to say many goodbyes, with little time. My neighbor, Luis, my favorite person in that pueblo, was the hardest to say goodbye to. I walked up to his door and, having been gone a week without saying anything, looked forward to the expected teasing. i knocked. He opened the door with that guarded look of his, and immediately smiled and laughed when he saw it was me. "Ah. And where has my Gringo Monkey been?" He calls me a monkey because I'm a hairy man. It sounds like an awful thing to say to someone, i know, but he says it with such affection and as he says it, he reaches out and pats my chest. All i could do was cry. He opened the door and brought me inside and hugged me until i calmed down. I told him the news, and it was his turn- he understood he would not have me to share his news and gossip and little nothings. We both lived alone, and found in each other an unusual friendship between unlikely parties. I miss him dearly, already.

And then the trip out of town. My last glance at the park, the volcano, the unending green tide of coffee plantations.

After two hours, we arrived with all of my things to the open arms of my old host family. I thanked and said goodbye to my Peace Corps escort, and collapsed into a familiar rocking chair to talk to Don Jesus (Don means Mr) and the woman that works at his house, Isabel. Don Jesus' wife Alisa, the owner of the house, is away visiting family in the States, so the three of us sat down and talked about a living agreement, and then I told them my story.

And now I've told you as well. I'm glad we all know.

Peace Corps has graciously offered to allow me to stay and complete my four months of service. I will live near San Vicente and work out of the Training Center. My program-Municipal Development- is being restructured and redeveloped. I will be assisting with this process, and preparing for the arrival of the new training group in February. Their training will last two months, and I will help with talks on the culture and the best ways of adapting to life in this beautiful country. I don't know all the details, but I am excited. A new chapter begins.

Monday, November 2, 2009

There are very few days in El Salvador that are really embraced and celebrated, compared to in a country like the states that has a celebration two days out of seven. Many casual conversations between Americans often involve the weekend, somehow. It’s either: “How was your weekend?” or “Hey, half way to the weekend” or “what will you do this weekend?” Here, I NEVER hear people talk about the weekend. Students don’t wait impatiently for Friday, nor workers or anyone else, at least not where I live.
But today, today is a big deal. It’s the “Day of the deceased.” I know that it sounds dark or sad. It’s not. I woke up this morning and, exiting my house to buy an egg for my egg sandwich breakfast (YUM), I immediately felt a pleasant energy in the neighborhood. Though it was early, there were already people headed past my house to the cemetery. All smiling, many carrying plastic bouquets or other things to decorate the graves. Wearing bright colors, they said hello as they past my house. I stood in the street and watched for 5 minutes. There aren’t many days like this. It warms me so.
I ate, washed, and put on a bright blue shirt. I walked down to the southern edge of town, not quite to the cemetery, and entered an area where families from my neighborhood and others had set up crude booths to sell food and hot chocolate and coffee. Normally a fast walker, I strolled deliberately among the bustle, stopping to shake hands or make a funny face.
And then the emotion, that terribly sad and yet warming sensation of seeing a family crying and embracing and laughing at the graves of family members. Children running around. Siblings holding each other. Last year at this same event, I was still an outsider, and I longed to be among my own family. This year, it was different. I could openly approach any group of people, and was well received and told stories of fathers long dead and husbands still missed. Hearing my name called by different voices, seeing warmth in people’s eyes. It makes it all worth it.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

gloomy. beautiful.

i wake up and know that it's raining, though i can't hear it. it's too quiet outside. and i can smell it. the rain.
it's the month of salvadoran independence. i walk up to the park to help set up for the acto civico. we put up balloons and ribbons and are light on our feet. the cool weather is liberating. the children arrive. "gringo! dance like michael jackson!"
We stand and listen to the national anthem. a boy recites a poem. little girls dance in traditional dresses. i watch from a shaded bench. it's a beautiful morning. i can't stop smiling.

later in the afternoon. im walking on a road, surrounded by jungle. it's hot and wet and tropical. the rain is coming again soon. it always does.

Monday, August 24, 2009

corn festival

i went to a corn festival yesterday. it was great. i went with a few good friends. narda and her brother, and someone i just met, edgardo. the festival took place about 45 minutes away from where i live, or this particular corn festival. they take place all over the country this time of year, harvest time. i had never seen salvadorans honor their most important crop like this before. i was impressed. we watched a parade of different trucks and floats honoring this staple food, and the culture it creats. we ate a dozen different dishes made from corn, and even had some fermented corn booze. this all took place in a pleasant town. i did a lot of people watching, where i make myself less visible and take it all in. children laughing and playing. young lovers holding hands. there's something very calming about the plain humanity surrounding this place. i will certainly miss it.

Friday, July 10, 2009

I wake up, accompanied by the one constant in this world. The heat lingers like some vulgar joke. The temperature rises two degrees every minute.
I smoke a cigarette with my head in the freezer. I almost fall asleep. But my feet are still sweating, slipping over the tile floor with faint resolve.
I make coffee. Its all I can do to forget about the heat: spite the motherfucker.
There. That’s better.

An hour later I find solace. On the back of a decrepit bus, I sit behind an open window. The driver operates under constant fury. Fleeing an invisible foe. We’re going very fast. And im grinning, the sweat parting my forehead. Like I’m Moses.
Divine intervention.
A little boy stares at me. I wink at him. He doesn’t panic. His humanity won’t permit it. He laughs.
We’re going faster now. The whole bus blazing through jungle and concrete like a tormented creature. It starts raining. I feel manic. I want it all. Speed, safety, wind, rain. This bus ride is my greatest fear, but my only hope.
I ask God to look after me. After us. All of us. Protect us. Diós nos protege.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

i've been away from my site for several days, returning just now.
the children that attend school in the afternoon are walking home. there is no better sound in the world than the boisterous laughter of children.
it's good to be home.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

SILENCE! FUCKING!

I'm playing the guitar, enjoying the early afternoon. I can still taste the orange just consumed.
"Misster Willliam," says a familiar voice. "Tocando la guitara."
It's my fantastic viejo communist neighbor. He's 80. Has an absurd, toothless grin that makes me blush. And loves to talk shit. Long ago, he abandoned any social etiquette or standards, such as beginning conversations with "hello" or "how are you?" Old man loves to rehash all of the anti-american leftist news he's just heard on his radio, directing it at me in the form of boasts or accusations. We both allow this to happen, and thoroughly enjoy it, because he knows im not some gringo asshole, and i know he's not some nutjob militant, though we pretend to be.
"Looks like La CIA got rid of the Honduran President," he says.
"yea. 'bout fuckin time," i say.

But then he remembers why he knocked on my door. "Playing the old guitar again, huh?"
"Yea. I can sing too. Yo voy caminando, al monte donde yo nací….”
Luis tries to stop me, in spanish, but to no avail. So he shouts the only two words in English he knows: "SILENCE!!! FUCKING!!!"
So i shut right the fuck up.
And then we both laugh.
And then we talk for a few more minutes. About girls and politics. And soccer.
He shakes my hand, turns to face the world.
"Cuídate, Gringo."
You too, viejo.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

church

It's 9 am. The church bell tower announces the beginning of the catholic Mass. I can hear it's ferverence from my seat overlooking the soccer field. Today, i congregate with the disciples that are my town's soccer fans. The other church. It's the middle of the regular season. As i live in a populated volcanic valley, there are many teams. I know most of the men on the team in the red jerseys. And one of their players greets me with a smile. I nod my hello, at the same time acknowledging my allegiances.
It's a beautiful morning. A perfect temperature. Children laugh. Boys pick on each other. The volcano sits in the distance, clouds loitering above him like smoke pouring out of a high rise.
The good guys win. 3-2.
And the clouds have dissipated, leaving the volcano in seemingly smoldering ruins, like a morning well lived.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

a good day. mixed, like most.
i attended a meeting. and taught an english class. and ate tacos with a good friend. i admit that, even through the hardest parts, i am in wonderment of this place. of this life.

Monday, May 18, 2009

dad, the yankees beat the twins in a 4 game sweep.


I wake up late but make my 9am meeting. It has been three weeks with my new co-workers. some no doubt still think im with the FBI. we're still getting to know each other. i dont see the man i am to meet with. we're to talk about a water project. he walks into his office, where i am waiting for him, and warmly shakes my hand. we exchange polite nothings and settle into a comfortable rythum. but then we're interupted. he's asked to sit in on another meeting. can we meet another day, he asks me. sure, i say.
I have an hour before my next meeting. I wonder into beautiful sunlight.
i walk into my favorite little shop. They sell phone cards and beans and cupcakes. Cupcakes it is. I speak a few words in english, just a few, and then quickly translate them so that my hosts can say them back, thus learning their words for the day. I immediately ask the wife when will we go dancing? This always brings the house down. The father and i joke around as i pick out my cupcakes. we exchange a warm hand shake, and i leave for my house.
Inside, i have two more cups of coffee. I feel like reciting shakespeare upside down at this point, but manage to fall back into my current book, "Master and Commander."
And then it's time to talk to Rodolfo, the jefe of medio ambiente. I get there, but he's not there. A thousand apologies, im told, Rodolfo had to come home. He's sick. He couldn't endure.
So, Rodolfo has the shitts.
I talk to his two underlings. They speak so quickly and with such little annunciation that i have to listen as best i can. i couldnt have had this meeting a year ago. we talk about the environment- their department- and some of their ideas, and how i might fit in. I direct the meeting to result in the three of us agreeing to accomplish different things before the next meeting. that's how it will be, i say, little by little, everyone doing something. They're satisfied.
It's lunch time now. I buy a small baggie of chopped veggies from someone selling. I fry these veggies and add two eggs, and then fry another 4 minutes. i eat the meal with three fresh corn tortillas. an apple. a glass of wather.
and now, im in the hammock. but only for an hour.
now, im heading back to the mayor's office. i pick up Osiris, the jefa de proyecion social, and we meet our compardres at the local NGO in town, called Ciazo. There are four employees. I like Alberto. Mario is interesting. Mirna isn't around. And Estaphanie is beautiful. But. Beautiful.
We pile into the pickup. And exit the town. We shuttle down the two lane back highway for twn minutes, going down hill, and then hang a left into a smaller community. Ten minutes later we are in the jungle, weaving between communities.
Alberto and Estaphanie drop us off. The community is. poor. i see it often but today it hurts. it's just so poor.
the people in the meeting are a little complacent. and tired. they work so hard. and just want drinking water for their kids that won't make them sick. we meet in a nice little building, a gift from some NGO. we talk about the local, civil development group in the town that is them. I've heard this story before. They are organized, but nothing is really going on. And im afraid that, though our intentions are good, we won't be able to really help this group develop. I've come along with someone in an NGO and a representative from the mayor's office. The conversation during the meeting is pleasant, and productive. But these people, hopeful of having some kind of potable water system, need so much more than a little training and motivation.
But that's not my role. I shake hands. And offer encouragement. And look into many sets of beautiful, brown eyes and give the warmest smile i can. which is easy. these people are very friendly. once you know where to look.
and that's the meeting.
i come home. open the door. look around. smile at a neighbor. and go inside. and deflate a little. and fall into my chair. just what the fuck am i doing here?
dusk brings such temperance. i sleep soundly. for an hour.
and then im up. and my shorts are on. and my shoes. with my basketbal tucked under my arm, i head for the court. im better than when i left. or when i arrived, rather. a lot better. i play a game of burro, and then some 21.
i walk home, but not before talking to my very good friend. he's leaving for the states soon. or so he says. i hope he gets there. but i hate to see him go. the town will miss him. ill miss him the most.
it's beautiful outside. i walk down two blocks to my house. facing down hill, i have this view of lightening striking down in the valley.
home again. i still need to wash a pair of socks. and brush my teeth. and say my prayers.
otro dis menos, otro dia mas. de vida.
tomorrow, another busy day.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

these past four months have been really interesting.
interesting. that's a joke.
they were, at different times, beautiful, terrible, lonesome, inspirational... They were many things. And i think they were transitional. I'm working with new people, am suddenly busy, and feel, well, different.
and time passes so quickly. i know, oh god i hope, that a time will come when i won't want to leave all of this. im just not there yet.
the culture is so different. i sometimes want to stop people in their tracks and say,"hey, you know that thing you just did? that was foolish. and your kid was watching.WTF is wrong with you?" but that's not why im here. many people and most everything moves slowly. apathy is king. though love abounds.
i developed some serious feelings for a girl. we took it really so. i wasn't interested in something short term. she wasn't either. she also wasn't interested in dating someone that isn't a catholic and drinks beer. it's so funny: now that im a few weeks removed from all of this, i see so clearly how incompatible we would be romantically. turns out my heart wasn't listening, and i quickly fell for this girl. and she fell for me- or so she says. but still, she threw on the brakes, a few times, but was still interested. tough, right? the good news is that she is fantastic, i finally said no mas, we're still very good friends, and im feeling ok about all if it.

disclaimer: she is not the reason i wasn't blogging. nor was anything "wrong," which in turn kept me from writing. i just didnt feel it.
i still don't. but sat down to write two lines tonight, and find myself spilling it.

ok. more to come. soon.

peace and peace and peace,

wf.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

28 & 29

seven hours and seven buses later, im back home after a trip to the beautiful Mizata beach. thanks for a great time, Stally.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

26 & 27

After an hour of walking, he settles into a rhythm. The songs playing in his head are an eternal mix tape, an autobiographic playlist that reflects his mood, always. The current track is a song by the group Radiohead, "Bullet Proof....I wish I was."
It's a beautiful morning, but he's a little bitter. The night before, he was invited to "go on a walk to a hill." Sounds nice, he thought. A good way to start a morning. But the hill turned out to be a volcano. And the volcano turned out to be located several hours away. Our hero, always unaware of vogue, thought a short-sleeved, collared shirt would be perfect. He thought: Sipowicz from "NYPD Blue" always looked good in those shirts, why should I wear anything else?
Answer: it's 9am and in the neighborhood of 90 degrees. His Sipowicz shirt is soaked, sticking to him like an extension of his body. And his hair is suffering too, victim to the "man wax" that he used to style a wave in his bangs. He's afraid that someone might light a match, causing his head to explode.
"KABOOM!"
But our hero enjoys the irony. And his optimism soars with the beginning of a new track on his personal juke box, "Born in the USA." Cheered up, he notices the sun beams dancing on the jungle floor, the exotic fruit falling from unfamiliar trees, half naked children chasing each other, their humanity worn like innocent smiles.
He carries on.
Around a bend, he comes upon a view of an island, far below, sitting in the blue ocean like jade. But he can't stop yet; the end is near. So, he presses on.
He crosses a plateau, enters and exits a grove, and shouts with joy. He summits the volcano and looks over earth and ocean with a smile. And then abruptly collapses into fits of laughter. Sipowicz wishes he was this tough.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

25. a walk.

I got up at 5 this morning to go on a “walk.” I did not know where we were headed, or why. I wasn’t told, and didn’t ask. I was extended an invitation and accepted.
I’m glad I did.
By the time the sun was up, I was walking through coffee plants in the middle of tropical nowhere. I went with a family, good friends of mine. After an hour and a half, we arrived at a house. An old woman opened the door and beamed down at us, but seemed to mostly ignore me, or not really notice me. And I’m glad. That doesn’t happen often here. She was totally concentrated on two year old Christopher and his 5 year old brother, Fernando. She’s a medicine woman. Not a doctor. I don’t know why, but it was amazing to watch. She was relaxing to be around. She rubbed ointments on the two children, with hands like paper (I was later told that she’s somewhere in her 80’s).
When we left, she noticed me. She looked right at me, no-into me. I couldn’t move. She took my hand and held it for five minutes and we talked. I walked away feeling calm, and at the same time saddened that we had to leave.
The walk back was fun. We poked our way home, me stopping every few minutes to look at the incredible landscape. Volcanoes, green rolling hills, beautiful birds.
I have to sweep my kitchen, and then it’s off to bed. Tomorrow morning, I have to be in the neighboring town of Santiago before six. I'm going on a walk, this time with my friend Narda. I don’t know where we’re headed, or why. I wasn’t told, and I didn’t ask.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

24 Holy week

It's 6:45 in the evening. Dusk. I'm in the town of Santiago de Maria, at a little outdoor eatery. It's a simple place, just a few tables and a small stove. Covering the outside wall is a painted mural of Jesus and a woman wiping his face. Not typical, but altogether comforting. Sitting in front of me are a half-eaten pupusa* and a hot chocolate. My friend* Narda sneaks inside the cafe to pay my bill, and I let her. Sitting there, i make two friends. One, a middle-aged woman with a nice smile. The second, her grandson. She wastes no time in presenting him, her 10 year old trophy. He wastes no time in telling me a fantastic dirty joke. I return the favor. Not to be outdone, the grandmother finishes the trilogy of jokes with her own. It's a content moment. A full stomach. New friends. Sincere, boisterous laughter. The half moon over-head...
"Are you ready William?" It's Narda. She looks so beautiful in her white dress, it takes me a moment to answer her.
"Yes. Where are we going?" She nods down the street, towards a peaceful mass of people, slowly moving towards us. They're bearing two floats, though i can't tell what they are. At that moment, i hear them singing. I can't hear what they're saying, but it's a lovely sound. We watch them approach, and I'm surprised when, as a group, they stop directly in front of us and turn their attention towards the cafe. And then i get it. The mural of Jesus on the outside wall represents a station of the cross. This is the beginning of Semana Santa, or holly week, and this procession is honoring the 14* stages of Jesus’ suffering and death, called "The Stations of the Cross."
Over the coarse of two hours, we walk through the town, stopping to hear a few words by the priest as we consider each painted scene. Between stations, Narda and i talk. And flirt. And eat pieces of fried banana. All under the beautiful moon’s watchful eye. Altogether, it's the happiest I’ve been in El Salvador.

*A pupusa is a fancy quesadilla.
*Narda is the first girl i have been interested in since being here in el sal. She's kind of fantastic. but she's just a friend, one of my best here.
*14 stations of the cross, i think. there could be 15. im not actually Christian, as i don't believe in Jesus to be the son of god, anymore than you or I, though I do think him heroic. don't tell Narda.

Friday, April 3, 2009

21 22 23

im really pissed that i lost my camera.
but, as i grew up with not one but two sisters, i'm over it.

Having a sister makes you happier and more optimistic, say psychologists
By Kate Devlin
Last Updated: 3:49PM BST 03 Apr 2009

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/family/5089197/Having-a-sister-makes-you-happier-and-more-optimistic-say-psychologists.html

Having a sister makes you happier and more optimistic, a new study shows, but the same is not true for having a brother. (WTF??)
Growing up with at least one girl in the family also makes people more able to cope with their problems, according to the study.

Daughters tie loved ones closer together and encourage them to communicate their emotions more effectively, the researchers believe.


Prof Tony Cassidy, from the University of Ulster, who carried out the study with researchers from De Montfort University in Leicester, said that having a sister helped to promote good mental health.

He said: "Sisters appear to encourage more open communication and cohesion in families. However, brothers seem to have the alternative effect. Emotional expression is fundamental to good psychological health and having sisters promotes this in families."

Girls who had sisters also tended to be more independent and keen on achievement, according to the findings.

The effects were stronger among children from broken homes, suggesting that sisters might lean on each other more for support when their parents divorce.

Prof Cassidy added that the lowest scores were among boys who had only brothers.

"It could be that boys have a natural tendency not to talk about things," he said. "With boys together it is about a conspiracy of silence not to talk. Girls tend to break that down."

The study questioned 571 young adults, aged between 17 and 25, about the make-up of their families and their emotional well-being.

Only children tended to score in the middle range for happiness and optimism.

Liz Wright, the co-author of the study, said: "With only children we found that they had lots of strong communication outside of the home. It appears that they have as much social support as those with siblings, but it does not come from within the family."

The findings will be presented today at the British Psychological Society annual meeting in Brighton.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

20

it rained today. for the first time in months. i danced in it. wondered at it. wouldn't leave it's side, afraid it would abandone me. and then it did. but it left behind a memory of it's pending return, true as the dusk breaks. until it does, im like it's faithful pet, sitting in the window, waiting for my master to come home.

Monday, March 30, 2009

19

it's 8pm. a beautiful hour. it's dark, but the town is playful.
I’m sweeping my house. I open the door to dispose of the dust, and there, sitting on top of his own mountain of sand, is a five year old boy. he's smiling, like he's expecting me. and he probably is, or at least hoping. he's been playing outside of my house more and more. we've spoken a few times already, to my enjoyment. and his. he asks the best questions. tonight, he asks me: "do you understand Spanish?" now, anyone that knows me knows that i live to say sarcastic shit. but it's different when a 5 year old kid is asking the questions.
"yes, i do understand spanish, and English too!" He is very impressed. He thinks of a very important question- i can tell by the serious look that appears on his face.
"How do you say 'Jose' in English?"
I tell him: "well, it's Joe."
He's confused: "I don’t understand."
I Sympathize: "me neither."
The next question takes me by surprise: "is your dad alive?"
"yes."
"when he dies, will they bury him?" I'm pretty sure that dad wants the alternative, but i don’t want to get into that.
"Yes. when my dad dies, they will bury him."
"In El Salvador?"
“No, he's never been here. He lives in the united states, where I’m from. we'll bury him there."
He asks me more fantastic questions for about 10 minutes. I’m sitting in my doorway, bathed in the light coming from inside the house. he's sitting in the same spot, playing in the sand, without a worry in the world. He confirms several times that i speak english, and spanish, and then i ask him some questions.
"Where do you live?" It's now going on 830, and this kid is out a night, unsupervised (I’m secretly jealous).
"Down in the colonia" (a few blocks away).
"Are your parents alive?"
"Yes. They live in San Salvador" (which explains the solo missions to the gringo's house?).
"How many brothers do you have?"
"Eight."
By coincidence, one of them walks by, and the little boy, smiling, joins him as they walk into the darkness, leaving me feeling kind of abandoned.
But i stand up, brush myself off, smile at the night, and decide it's good to be alive.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

18

what a game.
i'll get to that.
i was out late on friday, and only slept for a few hours. Yesterday morning, after getting up and eating, i put myself back to bed. but couldn't sleep. i read. and listened to music. but my mind raced. and i felt good. so i got up. i did pushups and sit-ups. and cleaned. and then she called. she was headed to san salvador too. with a friend. she told me, no quieres ir con nosotros? of coarse i did, i said, and so met them at her place and we took off for the capital. after living here a year, i have become more than used to the realities of Salvadoran public transportation. but i still marvel. hot buses, packed with people. and no one gets pissed. this would never fly in the states. people push past each other and do other things that would cause a fucking riot among americans. but here, no one is bothered. it's amazing. it has had a very positive effect on me. so, the three of us pile onto a bus, and find three seats, two together and the other across the isle. it's a 90 minute ride, and the open windows allow a nice breeze. but an hour into the trip, we stop. there's been an accident. an 18 wheeler has flipped over, and traffic has been stopped. we don't know this yet, the cause of the accident, and really only care that we're not moving and suffering in the heat. but we pass the time. I’m secretly pleased to have an excuse to sit co close to her. And for so long. I show the two girls my ipod, and pick out a playlist for them to listen to. we tell jokes. Talk about love. It’s nice. She’s holding my hand.

we get to san salvador, and i tell her something in english that i know she wont understand, because im shy, and tell them both goodbye. i walk to my hotel, picking up speed as i approach. there, my friends await. i stumble into the room and demand beer. inside my best friends enjoy air conditioning a sports on television. but there needs to be mayhem. so i start yelling at everyone. we drink beer and insult each other for 30 minutes, and then pile into a cab. our destination is the stadium, the objective to survive a soccer match between team USA and el sal. it's my second time to the stadium, so im prepared for the madness. we find a group of friends drinking beer outside. hugs and high-fives are exchanged. we buy el salvador tee shirts and i begin yelling things like Los Pinche Gringos VAN A PERDER! Which everyone loves. More friends and more madness inside. i haven't seen some of these people in a while, and im already in a good mood. we chat, and enjoy the filling of the stadium. Team El Salvador enters the field, and we cheer. Team USA enters and we boo and whistle. i let loose another vulgar insult. the people around us love it that we're whiter than christmas and cheering for el salvador. this is reinforced by a goal scored by el salvador. and another. but then the crowd grows bitter: the gringos score 2 goals in the final minutes to tie the game. the good news is: a tie still pacifies the crowd, and we are allowed to leave the stadium with out lives.
i took a lot of pictures. great pictures. but also consumed a lot of beer. and put my camera down somewhere, or had it taken out of my pockets. i know. i really enjoyed posting those pictures. and i've made a promise to post something everyday for a year. so, my words will have to do. i'll try to mix it up.

sunday evening. always pleasant. yesterday's game will give me great conversations for the next week. i need to plan tomorrow's english class, and possibly write a letter. to her. in spanish. i've never done that before. wish me luck.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

16 & 17






Last night was kind of a kick in the ass. My friday nights are a little tamer than they used to be. Boozing with my buddies back home has been replaced with more nights sitting in my hammock. and you know what, it's kind of a nice, needed change.
And by that i mean sometimes i'm bored to fucking death.
But not last night. Last night, i sipped wine and ate delicious, little appetizers at the opening of an art exposition. w t f ? peace corps? sure. but that was the end of the night. ABTIM i went dancing with this hottie that drives me kind of crazy until early this morning.

IM GOING INTO THE CAPITAL IN A FEW HOURS TO WATCH TEAM USA CRUSH EL SALVADOR!!! But this Gringo will be wearing Blue and White and cheering for the Salvos. At least on the outside.

love you so much, sis. thanks for reading these. come down here, and we'll have a great time. same goes for anyone else reading this.

paz y amor,
w.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

14 halfway 15






i meant to write something yesterday. i had so little to do that i forgot.
get it?
yesterday was kind of a big deal. to me, anyway. it was the half way mark. of this whole peace corps deal. yea. half way done. gone like a fart in the wind. where did it go?
big plans tomorrow. and saturday, jesus, we're going to the world cup qualifying match, USA v. El Salvador. God help me.


so, the pictures:

1.i was walking by the park in my town and saw these two gentleman playing the guitar.

2. that's my bus stop, outside town. with the volcano behind it.

3. the nearby town of santiago, a bigger town, with coffee plantations in the distance. yea. shade grown, gourmet, salvadoran coffee. and everyone i know here drinks instant coffee. i do too. but i also have the good shit, which i drink every morning. it makes everything ok.

4. two of my english students misbehaving. class was hilarious today. we played a vocab game and the winner was to receive chocolate, so everyone freaked out, or pretended to, even me, and we kind of laughed our asses off and yelled at each other and i gave candy to everyone.

5. two more students. it's a good time. drop by if you're in the neighborhood.
get it?

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

13

a good day today. i taught english class in the morning, and again in the afternoon. y tambien vi la chamacha.

in the below picture are two good friends of mine. one, brad, you already know. the other is Richy, about the chillest (that's slang for easy-going, dad) kid here in el sal.

buenas noches, vatos.

El Bajabador.

Monday, March 23, 2009

12

there's so much to say. so much. i wish i knew where to start. i feel like a little kid, walking down the street alone for the first time, a wanderboy. i am different from everyone but no longer a stranger. everyone says hello to me. i teach english. i talk to people that are so poor they dont have shoes. i see joy in the face of a 2 year old boy, and know that everything will be ok. i have dinner where i always do, and take my own turn teaching Fernando how to read, and confide my secrets to his two year old brother. and there's a girl. she came over twice today, unannounced. she sat in my hammock. and her friend wore my cowboy hat.
and the days go by so fast.








some days are still really hard. and i dont know why. im kind of hard on myself. i came here wanting a change. im getting something else.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

10 & 11

yesterday, i went to the bach with Brad AKA The Stallion. We went to playa cuco. it was a really good time. we talked, walked on the beach, drank some rum. it was very bromantic. i needed some brad time.

today, after getting home, i went to Mass in the nearby town of Santiago De Maria with my new friend Narda. it was a nice service, minus when the Padre spoke poorly of protestants. i forgave him. then with Narda already outside talking on the phone, her brother and i tried to leave before the priest passed us. to which some lady said, over the PA systes, "please wait to exit until after the padre passes." oops. yea. but the brother and i joked about it.
after church, Narda hosted a little birthday party for a friend. it was simple, and fun. just six of us. Narda is very good to her friends. she's the most remarkable woman i've met since being here, and the first girl i've been interested in. hmm. we'll see.
good night.






Friday, March 20, 2009

8&9. dancing with narda in san miguel.

i was planning on posting something last night but got in a little later than expected. FINE BY ME. i went dancing in san miguel with some friends of mine- a girl i recently met and some of her friends. it was VERY fun. My friend's name is Narda. I met her through an NGO in a near-by town. She seems rather special. It's always nice to meet and befriend wonderful people, especially if they happen to be beautiful. Narda is in the red dress.
Tonight, im headed to see a band play in the town of Berlin. Should be fun. I'll take some pictures.
happy weekend.





Wednesday, March 18, 2009

7

i walk up to the door. no one seems to notice me. the yard is 50 feet wide. at one end, i see Rosie, washing clothes. i begin to sneak in. Ya viene el Gringo says a voice i recognize. Carmen. Her voice has that unintentional quality of announcing her mood. she's happy, i can tell, if not a little tired. i straighten up and walk into the yard. Not untypical of Salvadoran properties, it has a large yard that dissects two small structures. both have covered porches. it's pleasant, once you adapt to it's beauty. It's simple way. And ive done that. i greet the three adults there. all warm people. each in their own distinct way. But im quickly distracted by the absence of the kids. and then i hear laughter. innocent laughter. two kids giggling. so i follow it and walk into a room and then freeze as if terrified by the two year old. i make a face like i've suddenly had a fart with a prize. i then walk across the room, and into a handstand, my feet meeting the wall in front of me so to stabilize me. more laughter. that kind that comes from wonderment. i regain my feet, and look up to see four faces. and a two year old ass. Christopher is bent-over, peeking at me between his legs. That's his hand stand. but that's as far as her can go. he stands. we laugh at each other. he then chases me out of the room. and around the yard. his family is laughing. other people show up to buy tortillas- which is why i have come- and they laugh too. Ten people laughing. Together. Is there anything better? Sometimes. But not tonight. I should have taken a picture. I will soon.

The pictures:

The top picture is my house. the bottom house is my neighbors across the street, taken from my place. they're redoing the streets. taken in january.


Tuesday, March 17, 2009

6

in january i went to a beach about an hour and a half from where i live. it was fine. i went with a woman and her four daughters. the mom and i drank beer in the back seat on the way there. i mean, laugh out loud funny. i've been to half a dozen beaches here now. they're surprisingly different. but all beautiful.





another peaceful, lovely night here.
y en unas horas ya voy a very la chamaca. "T m gust." Lo mejor mensaje q he recibido aqui.

paz y amor,
w.

Monday, March 16, 2009

5

el salvador elected a new president.
Very interesting.
Read about that here:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/16/world/americas/16salvador.html?scp=3&sq=el%20salvador&st=cse


so, im going to hang out with this girl. and her friend.
but i gotta go.

i leave you with this, a picture of two dogs, uh, playing tug of war:




Sunday, March 15, 2009

3 & 4

first picture: english class. they're a great class.

second picture: a very pretty lagoon close to where i live.



Friday, March 13, 2009

2

a few weekends ago, i went to the other side of the country to a place called Juayua. It was a lot of fun. On the work side, we gave some important talks on AIDS and arranged for a famous M.D. to come and give a lecture about AIDS to a group of teachers and health promoters, so that they could communicate the same information to the people in their community. we also took a nice hike to these beautiful waterfalls and did a little high-diving.
Disclaimer: i ddint' do much work: it was all L.B.).


Thursday, March 12, 2009

1

so, i've been here for a year now. And a day. Pretty wild. In honor of being here one year, i am going to post a picture for every day for the next year. most days i will only write a little. other days, i'll write a little more.
(disclaimer: i got this idea from another volunteer, mr. L. S.).

we'll start this off with some construction pictures. we're paving most of the streets in town. this includes the road seven feet from where im writing this. it's been going on for some time: they tore out the coble stones about two months ago. since then, my house is perpetually covered in dirt. im kind of used to it, which is sad. but im not sad. im happy. content. i hope you are too.
love,
me.







Friday, February 27, 2009

wondernight

It’s newly dark. Venus is setting in the west, with the moon nearly beside her. Beautiful. Kids play in the street. They ask me to play with them. we toss around a tennis ball. It’s a windless, perfect night. And it all feels, amazing.
This thing, the peace corps, like life in general, seems to be a series of ups and downs. Peaks and valleys. Tonight, I must be sitting on a beautiful crest, overlook a glorious life. Not as a king, but as an equal.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

i have a lot of farts

i just had dinner. lots of beans. yummy.
walking home, this little kid was just suddenly next to me. smiling. so we chatted for a minute. i asked him how he was. the typical, literal response to that question here in el sal varies but includes: "im there," "im here," "good," "shitty," etc. This kid's responds with enthusiasm. and not in one sentence. he tells me that school was good, he's got a new girl friend, and he's about to have dinner with his family, among other things. im half a sleep on two legs, but listening and enjoying his answer. then he asks me, "and you, how are you, sir?"
i told him the truth, as best i could, in spanish: "I have a lot of farts."
Kid stopped right in his tracks. and so did i, just as i mustered one that shook the houses on the street. slowly, his slightly shocked face turned into the most sincere grin i have seen in a long time. he laughed with his whole body, and so did i, which made me fart more.
as we parted ways, he told me he hoped we would meet again. i told him i hoped so too.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

a mosquito just bit me on my elbow. w t f ??

my alarm goes off. it's 5:50 am. i could get up. go on a run. come back, listen to NPR, have a banana. or, i could just, you know, lay here peacefully for a few more minutes.
my alarm goes off. my internal alarm. like a fucking gunshot. i sit up, and almost jump through my mosquito net. "oh shit oh shit oh shit." it's 7:20. i have a very important meeting. At 8am, thirty minutes away from my house.
but then i remember: it's el salvador. the meeting will start at about 9:15. so, i relax. and listen to NPR. and have a banana.
by the time i take my seat on the bus, the sun is up, and it's growing warmer, but the morning still maintains a cheerfulness, the day celebrating it's potential.
i walk into the meeting just as it begins. 9:10 am.
and what a meeting. we've recently had local mayoral elections, and present are the new mayors and their cabinets or consejos. the purpose of the meeting is for everyone to understand more about the group they have been asked to join: "U 7," or United Seven. The group is a collection of local government members and civic development groups, working together to benefit the seven municipalities they represent. and there's me. the white kid. some of these people know me, and most have heard of me. and i have a good reputation among them- a strong word.
it's hard for me to convince you why, but the meeting is very much a success. maybe it's because i get to talk to the new mayor and meet his people since he won election. his win was a dramatic surprise to me. and i was nervous as to if they would invite me to work with them or not. so far, i seem to be warmly regarded and have invitation to work with the new administration.
this was cemented by them offering me a ride back to town. we pile into a pickup truck, and i tell a few jokes and tell my new friends my nick name. suddenly, we all seem to be friends.

________


it's now late in the afternoon. i am sitting at a cafe at the side of our park here in town, talking to the woman that runs the place. we've only recently become friends, and it's a friendship that i enjoy, and not just because she gives me wonderfully fresh orange juice, kind of a rarity for me down here. sipping the OJ, i see the people i am waiting for pull up in a car, but they don't see me. i get their attention, and they come over. they're my new students. and we're studying english. they join me at a table, and we talk for half an hour or so. there are three of them. they work together for a large spanish NGO called "intervida." they're all a few years older than me, which is perfect. i don’t have many friends in their late twenties/early thirties. we talk about english classes, and end up agreeing to two days a week for an hour each day. "how much?" they say. "nothing," i reply. "just buy me a beer or two once in a while." this seems like music and comedy to their ears.
we say good bye. they drive away. the cafe owner points her chin in their direction as if to say, "so, what's that all about?" I tell her: "they're my new students." and i tell her that im hoping they will do some work here in town in exchange for me teaching them some bad words and good grammar.
and then my slow, lovely walk home. it's dusk. my two year old friend, eddie, is standing outside his house, watching his world walk by. i say his name in a low voice, like i always do, and his face lights up with a grin as he repeats his name back to me, something he has only recently learned. he then inexplicably turns to his mother and, im not kidding, says a very bad word. we're both so surprised that all we can do is laugh. but then she tells eddie he cant call his mother a whore. that just won't cut it.

and here i am, sitting in my house, now typing in the dark. it's 630, time to go and eat dinner with my neighbors, and flirt with the three daughters.

peace and love. from el salvador.

me.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

conversations

Ramon

Ramon drinks. A lot. He's also closer to god than most people i know.
He calls me "gringi;" to the english speaker it sounds like GReeengy.

I'm standing outside. It's the middle of the day, in the middle of town, in the middle of life here. He walks by, slowing down as he sees me. and we talk.

He greets me: Gringe! How is the day treating you? Perfectly, i tell him. Really?Me too.
He's barefoot, and has clearly just come from a full day's work in the near-by fields. He's dirty, tired, and grinning.
As if directed by something greater, we both look towards the sun. and then towards each other. He tells me, there is no greater gift than the sun. but tell me this, gingi,where does it the sun go when it departs?
There is no greater cause for humility than being asked such a question.
Well, i don't really know for sure, i say. But, i think that we surround the sun, that we travel around her, though we're covered in darkness during the night.
He's surprised. He says, really?
Yes, i say. The earth travels around the sun. We are not the center, but a small thing, traveling around the light.
He's amazed. As am i.
Well, he says, are there really other worlds?
Again, i am humbled by my friend's confidence in me in his asking me such a question. there was once a time when Ramon was suspicious of me, and would not talk to me.
Back to the conversation, i say: other worlds? Yes, i think there are other worlds, other galaxies, filled with stars that spot the sky. But we cannot see them all.

We continue speaking, both of us with our arms folded, in a comfortable posture, enduring and enjoying our shared sun.
A few minutes later, we shake hands, and Ramon heads towards the shade, his shade, well deserved.

..........
Rosa Linda

Twelve minutes north of here, by bus, is a bustling town. on it's edge is a public, catholic school. on this morning, the school director, a nun, calls me.
Hello?
William? Yes! Might you come and speak with me for a few minutes??
I accept and, a few hours later, i an standing in the entry way of a beautiful refuge, a true solace. i am soon greeted by a short, purposeful woman.
She says: god bless you. thank you for coming. can we have a coffee?
I smile and, accept.
First, she has to make a call. So, i sit. and watch. the children are at recess, and i am swept up in that beautiful inclusiveness of the school yard. Laughter, delight, hope. only too soon does my hostess return, all too easily noticing my envy.
She says: they're my students. aren't they happy? yes, i say, they're beautiful.
she motions for me to follow her. helplessly, silently, i accept.
we walk through the school yard. one student, maybe 8 years old, forgets his crush for a moment, and looks at me with unbelieving eyes. i wink at him, and we share a moment of trust, a moment of recognition of spirit. the music of life stops. in that time, it's just the two of us, sharing a glance, and then the world's chorus comes crashing in, on cue, and life resumes.
recognition. acceptance. and we both move on, his attention towards some dark-eyed beauty, mine towards destiny's brevity.
the library. the chapel. the classrooms. we visit them all. i talk to different groups of students. to teachers.
and then, and urgent phone call. a secretary arrives to tell the director that another awaited visitor is here to see her. she considers me, and tells her friend that it can wait.
such honor. towards me. it feels undeserved.
finally, we arrive to the teacher's lounge. this, the hard part. i have to tell her: i am not an english teacher. and i belong to a different town.
her eyes well with tears. mine do too. she sheds any pride. please, she says, all i am asking is one day a week. you can come, assist the english teacher, talk to the students, play sports, and just, be. once a week, for the morning, this can be your home; i offer this to be your home.
i take her hands, and tell her: thank you. i accept.

........

more conversations soon, i promise.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

big dicks and hearing aids.

last night, i wrote about a good friend of mine, this mostly deaf/mute kid that i consider a good friend.
amazingly, i am anticipating his arrival tonight or tomorrow, so that he may hear what my voice sounds like.
i was in the mayor's office today, talking to a friend of mine, when she told me that the little boy was being given a small operation to implant hearing devices- an expensive procedure- to help his hearing. how cool is that?

what else??

i just had dinner with a few friends. we ate pupusas, drank a little rum, and talked shop. one friend with me there is a lawyer, and the other a good shit-talker, like myself, so the conversation was good. we talked politics, gossiped, and joked around. the joker and i have a running, inside joke. i don’t know how it developed, but he likes to call me "big dick." yes, i know, ridiculous. it makes my day every time i see him. he extends his right arm in greeting, and i return the gesture, a greeting within the brotherhood of bigdicks.

tonight, as i walked away, satisfied from the good company and food, i looked back before stepping into my house. i could barely see my friends down the road, but i could see the joker, and his extended right arm. i returned the signal, and could hear the good-hearted laughter, even from two blocks away.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

thanks, kid.

a knock at my door. a short list of people runs through my head. i open up, and there he is, though he wasn't on the list.
i forget his name. i'd ask him, but he wouldn't tell me, because he can't. he's mostly deaf, and mostly mute. but very smart. we have this running joke. he shows up at my door a few nights a week, on his way home from somewhere, and when i open the door, he makes the sound of, something, like an animal, and i look around in fear with a ridiculous look on my face. then, we both laugh. tonight, we didnt play. we just hung out for a few minutes, together taking in the town around us. such a good kid. i often see him running around town with one or two of his many friends. always smiling, always content. he's probably 7 or 8, less than half my height. black hair, big eyes, white teeth, and, clearly, a big heart. tonight, he, well, i was feeling sad and he, he smiled at me, telling me it would all be ok. so, i gave him some fruit, making his smile wider. the night lit up around us, and he waved and ran away.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Election Day

i was sitting here when it happened, at my table. Doing something unimportant, something to occupy my time, i was half listening to the outside world. And then, it happened.
The election ended.
People shouting, a chorus of unmistakable joy. Those of us inside our houses drifted deliberately to our doorsteps. Such important news slows you down, like it might disappear if not handled delicately. Amazing. I watched the reaction of countless neighbors, their feelings so readily available on their faces as the winning party celebrated an upset victory. This was the mayoral election. And the left had won. I played the sympathetic friend, nodding my head solemnly, or shaking hands with a mild, celebratory firmness unseen.

Earlier in the day, i decided that i would not hide in my house any longer. No sir. i walked up to the local school, with the lowest possible profile, and witnessed the wonder that is Latin-American democracy.
Paper ballots. cardboard ballot boxes. neighbors, separated by plywood walls and political affiliations, greeting each other warmly. because that's what neighbors do. truthfully, i was amazed at how calm and collected everyone seemed. it was the right time of day to be there. there were other, more intense hours. but i was in no danger, and was greeted by most. i stood around. kept to myself mostly. and thanked god for democracy.

i wasn't expecting this. i thought i would be working with the incumbent mayor here for my remaining 15 months. i had hopes and expectations and plans. and now, well, now i will be working with an office full of new people. it begins on May first, my time with the new mayor and his people.
honestly, after thinking about it for 25 hours, im excited. a new beginning. are there many more precious things in life? in this line of work, you have to be an optimist.

in other news, i hung my new hammock in my house, and plan on watching our new President take an Oath to Country tomorrow.

and, like always, it's a beautiful night outside. "We were born in the night. In her, we live." M.C.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

"El dia de los adultos mayores."

note: looking at this posting, i messed up the pictures a little bit but, hey, it was my first attempt at posting pictures. more to come...



Satisfying.
The elderly here in Tecapan are frequently ignored. Not today. At our communal house or "casa de cultura," i helped host a "day of older adults." The woman that runs the casa de cultura produced a hundred or so hand-written invitations and delivered them to the residences of the town's elderly. I was asked to help with the event, and happily agreed. It was, i don't know, FUN. In the above picture, a woman is presented with a gift. I don't think the actual gift inside will matter to her much. It's really the presense of other people and the laughing and eating and being happy that was gifted to anyone who showed up, old or young.



There. That’s the casa de cultura. I showed up there at about 9:30 this morning. After drinking coffee, laughing, and setting up for the event with the women that work there, I stood in that doorway and greeted people as they arrived. Some of these people I had never seen before. And they had never seen me, or many white people, much less talked to one. But talk we did. It was an experience. Some were clearly surprised that I could speak Spanish. One woman hugged me. So I hugged her back. She cried. She’s doesn’t get out much. And was happy to be greeted by a grinning young man. Others just kind of stood there, smiling, and, well, we just kind of hung out for a minute before they took some unseen cue to advance into the building. The best part of this, for me, is the authentic way these old people interact with me. There’s no shame or impressing or, anything. Like a child. It makes me, in turn, forget myself for just a moment. My head empties and my heart fills and im left speechless. The old man or woman walks away and im left wanting, more.



It was a really full event. I mean, we were there for a while and did a lot of things. There was the music: a pair of brothers, one blind. They walk in, one leading the other, and set up their guitars with a deliberateness. And then they play beautiful music. I was a little shocked. A few people went up to the microphone and told jokes. I didn’t understand them, but could not help but laugh at the site of other people laughing, people that probably have not laughed in a long time. We served a nice lunch of rice and chicken. A young woman sang. And me. I ran around and talked to many people and smiled, or bowed my head solemnly, only to smile again. I played with a few kids, grandsons and daughters. And I said goodbye to 100 new friends.
Yes, a good day.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

picture that moment when dorothy opens the door to Oz, and life is in color for the first time.
It's not that this is Oz, or that i feel like my life is really beginning or any of that shit, it's just that life itself here is so vibrant that to live in it is to live it.
i went to a burial today. a good friend of mine, his sister died. she was very sick. as he stood by me today, i told him that he should honor his sister by continuing to live himself. asi es la vida he told me.
today, i met with a coworker in the mayor's office, and we talked more about managing our newly formed civic environmental group. she was bummed becuase people do not seem interested. i told her i was in, 100 percent, and we prepared a plan of action to present to the mayor. i have great faith in this woman, and she is excited to have my help. i am encouraged by this type of work. this is the type of thing i want to be involved in- helping people help themselves, even one at a time. im glad to have something to invest myself it in this, the beginning of the year.

it's after 8 pm here, and im sitting with my shirt off at the computer; my door is wide open. what a night.

paz y amor,
Mi.

Friday, January 2, 2009

homecoming

the last thing i did in denver this morning was watch the sun come up. sitting on the cold runway, fighting tears, i watched the beautiful dawn occur.
beauty.
i flew for two hours, sleeping on and off. i spent six hours dicking around in Houston, and then got on the plane for el salvador. sitting on the plane, i suddenly felt excited to be going, well, home. The flight attendants must have sensed something, because four of them stopped in my row to flirt with me before we took off. not even kidding.
after arriving in el sal, i breezed through customs and waited not five minutes outside before a pickup comes pulling up, it's occupants smiling and waiving. then, the absolute best part of the day: sitting in the back of the truck, thundering down a dark highway, i tilt my head back into the wind, and gaze into the star-filled sky. AMAZING. The heat and humidity and laughter and wind and beauty are more fulfilling than anything i can think of.

and here i am. back in my house. crickets. dogs. heat. the breeze. life. here we are. and here we go. 2009.