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.