Being bugged

Not much new to report, other than the fact that I'm being kept up night by HUGE insects that look like this (cribbed from Google Images as I haven't managed to take my own shot of one of these...I'm usually too busy running and screaming)
I would say that is about actual size. They are called chicharras and they either fly noisily around my room or, more commonly, land on my roof at night and hop around. My roof is corrugated sheet metal, so this sounds like there are large chickens or something on my roof. Sometimes they make loud insect noises like those old WeatherBugs too.

Equally annoying was the man who came up to me this morning and, without a word of introduction or pleasantries, asked me how my economic situation was and do I have a lot of money? As you probably know, I (and most volunteers) already have big problems with people in the community who think we are a. filthy rich and b. going to give them all our money and food and possessions. But I couldn't believe this guy. For the first time I was very blunt and said, I don't want to discuss that, it's private. Then I just looked away until he left.

I should probably run, as I have an all day teachers' meeting to get to. I think those are boring in every country and now have more respect for my old grade school teachers who had to suffer through the same thing. Albeit in air conditioning...

I will try not to complain about everything in my next post. Paz y amor.

Arriba con las selecciones

Well, that was quite the game. At one point in the second half, the US actually trailed 2-0, but then came back to tie the game 2-2. Unfortunately (Jess) I couldn't take any pictures because cameras weren't permitted inside the stadium...nor were pens, actually. FIFA really does crack down.

No safety concerns to report, except a little bit of beer dumped on me every time El Salvador scored and the fans threw their cups into the air.

TONS of fun to watch, and of course the stadium was large and filled with noise and craziness. It was no Real Madrid game but it was still a spectacle.

Paz y amor.

Futbol frenzy

I'm in the capital for the US vs. El Salvador soccer game and the city, or at least what I've seen of it so far, is going nuts. They're all decked out in Salvadoran soccer jerseys, which are royal blue. I'm wearing a blue polo shirt just to be safe.

Dear Father, thank you for your Bangladeshi heritage and my resulting dark hair and skin. When I wear sunglasses to hide my blue eyes, no one thinks I am a gringa. I would feel safer for this if it weren't for the fact that soon I will meet up with a bunch of pale, pale volunteers.

The people in my site who knew I was going to the game kept teasing me, saying "Estados Unidos pierden," or that the States will lose. But then they smile sadly and say they know we will win because the Salvadorans are so very small. I tried to console my school director by saying that small people run faster. This, he thought, was a great joke.

The past few days at my site had been hard because the schoolkids have been extra annoying, trashing my porch with even greater frequency and deliberately throwing little seeds and things at my house even after I told them, then yelled at them, then threatened them to stop. Plus a random increase in piropos, or the catcalls and things we all get. I, being from DC, had been used to them and they never really bothered me. But people recently have tried to touch me or say things that are so vulgar I won't write them here. It got to the point where I was walking around my village, my own home, with my teeth constantly gritted.

Honestly, all this bothered me enough that I began to wonder why I don't just go home. I gave up all my comforts, my family and friends, all to help this one community. And this is the respect I get? I don't expect to be worshipped and I don't even really want to be treated like a higher being, but I would appreciate being able to walk around without constantly feeling the need to scream. I am here for two whole years, after all.

But then there are days like yesterday, when kids came by for help with homework and invited me to play on their school soccer team. And mornings like this in town, when I got to chat with a bunch of my favorite kids and my school director, and a woman I know from the mayor's office, and the cybercafe lady who invited me inside to watch part of "Lord of the Rings" while I waited for the bus. Sometimes I think people really know me and like me here. And sometimes I really love my site.

Also, a new volunteer is coming to work in the mayor's office the Monday after next. I'm so stoked to have a companera I'll probably have to tone it down a little so I don't come off like Patty Simcox from "Grease": "Oh my God, we're going to be life-long friends!"

Time to go grab some lunch. Wendy's or Pizza Hut. Missing America has given me horrible eating habits every time I come to the capital. As I remember, I refused to eat fast food most of the time in the States...now I count the days until I can have some.

Paz y amor.

Le ha tocado lavar en la calle!

My outdoor sink is fixed, and water now runs in it nearly all the time. This is a huge and wonderful event. Now I can wash my dishes and clothes a foot from my house, instead of down a hill surrounded by kindergartners whose classroom is behind the big family sink I used to use. The only flip side is that my outdoor sink is very close to, and highly visible from, the main road. So close that when my counterpart saw me washing clothes yesterday, she burst out laughing and crowed, "Le ha tocado lavar en la calle!" ("You have to wash your clothes in the street!") Then she and her daughters came back and decided to have a long chat with me while I was washing my underwear. Awk-ward... As if my privacy isn't being invaded enough, there is also a running joke in my host family that I'm going to bathe up there in full view of everyone. Not gonna happen, y'all. My working pila is part of a village-wide project to bring more running water to more houses. Some houses in my village almost never have water during this, the dry season. But now that situation has been improved if not fixed completely. The project was funded by the municipal mayor's office, so I can't be mad at the mayor anymore for screwing me over. That's right. We were counting on her to provide our school with two buses so we could take grades 1-3 to the zoo. The zoo had already agreed to get us in for free and provide a guide and all the teachers were really excited about the trip (they hadn't told the students yet, thank God, except one who told her 6th-grade class they were definitely going even though a) it wasn't confirmed b) 6th grade wasn't invited and c) she told them we were going yesterday. But of course this teacher passed the whole thing off as my excursion, so I had to deal with the disappointed 6th-graders running up to me in the streets.) Anyway. The mayor said she would let us know last Friday if our solicitud was approved, and when no one had called by yesterday I suspected the worst. So I called her and when the first words out of her mouth were, "fíjese que..." I knew it was all over. Peace Corps volunteers have a special loathing relationship with fíjese que. It loosely means, "Look, the thing is," and it is the beginning of every sentence uttered by every person in any position to help us out. After that, it hardly matters what lame reasons they have for not giving their time and/or resources. Half the time it's just lame excuses anyway. But like I said, I can't get too mad when I think about the water in my pila. We can always postpone the trip and try to do it later with Peace Corps money. The federal government agency for agricultural technology is being way more helpful. I spent basically 8 hours on buses today just to meet with one of their engineers, and he is going to help me set up an orange and pineapple nursery for our school. And by help, I mean he is going to come to my site and train the parents and older kids himself. It's up to me to work with the parents to get the land and materials, to plan the logistics of the training and to help the kids actually plant the seeds. But I really have no idea how to set up or maintain a nursery, so this will be a huge help. The first meeting in about a year of our community development organization's board of directors is tomorrow. I called the meeting to see if they wanted to do any work at all anymore. I am betting the answer is no, and no one will come, even though I will clean my house and buy them all soda. Paz y amor.

A scattering of random thoughts

Everyone is buying tickets home for Christmas now, March 24, before they get too expensive. I know my family won't be able to get it together until October at least, and by then tickets will cost roughly $2 million. So it might be another depressing Christmas in El Salvador while all my friends are home.

I made the mistake of watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy last night -- it comes on the Sony Channel on hotel cable here. It was from the new season, and I hadn't watched any episodes since last season's finale. So I ask, what the hell is going on??? Denny coming back to life? You all are probably laughing at me because you have seen many episodes after this. Just don't tell me, I'll wait for the DVDs.

I am going to the United States vs. El Salvador soccer game here on Saturday. Should be a good time. But I have to root for El Salvador or I will be beat up and/or doused with bottles of urine.

Paz y amor.

A la playa?

Saturday's youth group meeting was a laugh and a half.

Although the encargado, the guy in charge, did nothing to support our dance and actually threw a mini-fit against it, he decided he should get to decide where our profits go, and he wanted to...drumroll...donate it to the church.

This would be lovely if the church had helped us at all.

Even the adults who work with the group quickly jumped all over the encargado, saying that the people who did all the work for the dance should control the profits. And, of course, the others who worked on the dance had stayed away from the meeting to avoid the encargado's wrath. So it wasn't long before a dozen pairs of eyes were all fixed on me.

"Alia," they said, "what do you want to do with the money?"

"Well, I really think we should discuss it with the others who organized the dance," I said. "We could plan something like an excursion, maybe to the beach or something."

That clearly wasn't vague enough. You could almost hear them screaming "yaaaayyy" like the Flanders twins on "The Simpsons."

"We're going to the beeeeach!!!"

Of course, last time there was a beach trip, everyone got in trouble for drinking, so I might not want to have my name attached to this.

After the meeting, I hung out with a bunch of kids I really like from the group, and they explained that the encargado always wants to donate money to the church so the church council will think better of him.

A few days ago I was telling everyone that I didn't want to be another youth group encargado, that it was their group and I was just here to help them design projects and do enviro stuff. Now I'm at odds with the guy in charge and everyone seems to be backing me.

I've got a bad feeling about this.

I've got a great feeling about my friend Kali being here though. She's Salvadoran and we were friends and hallmates in college. Now she has a job down here and we can storm this country together! How randomly awesome is that?

Paz y amor.

A bit of faith restored

So you know that dance I've been complaining about? The one my youth group threw together two days in advance, with much infighting, which I was convinced no one would attend?

It was a smash success. We actually made a good chunk of money from it, which we can use for an excursion to the beach. The casa comunal, where the dance was held, was full, everyone had fun, there were no security incidents, the police showed up to prowl around even though we were sure they wouldn't, I actually had fun taking money at the door, stayed up till 2 and danced a bit.

The funny thing was, we did it all without the support of the (somewhat worthless) guy who is officially in charge of the group. He was mad about our decision to go forward with the dance before. Now that it went over so well, we'll see what he says at the meeting today.

This has taught me a valuable lesson: not to underestimate our youth group. We had a couple of failed projects before which made me think there was no way we could pull this dance off. But there are a few delightful youth who really get things done, and I know now to trust and support them and everything will turn out beautifully.

Someone's daughter Yesenia, who lives in the United States, sent a big display of lights to the church that night to celebrate the end of fiestas patronales. My Spanish speakers, see if you can spot the mistake here. Yep, saluda is spelled wrong, and God knows how much poor Yesenia spent on this.

Que bonito, the people said when they saw the display, even when I laughingly pointed out the embarrassing mistake. None of them majored in print journalism, I can tell.

Here is a picture of the sweets that kept me fed all week. Along with the pupusas and pasteles, or fried spiced corn flour filled with mashed potatoes, I didn't really cook at all during fiestas patronales.Paz y amor.