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.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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.
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