oh brother.

I’ve been an only child my entire life until three months ago when I arrived in El Salvador. First with a host family during training I had two siblings who were mas o menos (just so-so). I’ll leave it at that. But now I’m with my second host family and have two brothers. Actually I have more than that since my host mother has 6 children but my two host brothers are the only ones who still live in the house where I stay. Don’t let that confuse you, I still see the other children pretty often as the families are really really close here. I even have a “cousin” who comes each morning to eat breakfast at the house. I wonder why…because I KNOW she has her mother and other siblings. But that’s the American analyzing the situation.  In short family is more fluid here compared to the U.S. nuclear version.

Introducing my favorite brother Alex. (I know I shouldn’t say he’s my favorite but dang it. HE IS.)

Alex is 14 years old. He is super sweet. Has a raspy voice. Curly hair. When I initially arrived to the home his curls were long, wild, messy and beautiful. For the first few weeks his family kept telling him he had to cut it. He fought it pretty hard, and I tried to back him up as much as I could. One day when I returned from work Alex came into the pupusaria, where his mom works, with his shirt over his head. The poor thing was embarrassed because they had cut off way too much. He finally showed me and I assured him it would grow back.

Another one of my favorite Alex qualities is that he talks a big talk and complains loud and defiantly if he’s asked to do something he doesn’t want to do but in the end will always do as his mom says.  When he’s not running an errand for his mom he can be found riding his bike or playing soccer in the street. He likes to be taught English and in the morning I sometimes help him with his homework. He is in a room next to mine, which shares a half wall. So although we can’t see each other we still talk every night before bed. One night he shared with me that he had a special lady friend named Elsy. The whole family suspects he has a girlfriend but I just smile when the topic comes up. And after we turn off the lights, he says Buenas Noches hermanita. And I say buenas noches hermanito lindo. Ah, I just love him. And to top it all off his name is Alex. The name of one of my best friends in the whole wide world. My mom.

Here are some photos:

The first two photos are of him in the mango tree on the side of the house. One of his chores each day is to climb up (and the boy can climb) and shake the mango out of that tree. Then we gather them up and his mom makes fresco de mango. Very tasty but a serious pain in the butt to make. First Alex shakes and gathers the mangos. Then we skin them. Followed by cutting the flesh of the mango off the rather significantly sized and oddly shaped seed. After the mango is blended up and put through a cheesecloth along with more water. Sugar is added. Then comes the taste test and more often then not, way more sugar is added.  

Here, Alex is bringing down a banana tree. The bananas here are always fresh and habitually tasty. Yum.

Christian. Oh Christian. Where to start? Well, he is 4 years old. Adorable looking and plays hard. Sometimes I love to watch him play. It reminds me of being a child and having an imagination where the world melts away and all that is left is the constructed make-believe world only a child’s brain can create where anything is possible. Christian lives life from the moment he gets up to the moment his little head drops on the pillow at night. The boy jumps into life and gets messy. So that’s the inspiring part. The uninspiring part is when he screams for a bottle at 5 in the morning, or refuses to go to school by throwing an extremely earsplitting tantrum. And when I have to request a please and thank you every time he demands something from me. But at night when we put in the movie Selena for the 100th time and he cuddles with me in the hammock I forgive the lil’ bugger.

pretty.

Lovely blossoms 

I found budding 

from the bark of a tree 

in the park.

a closer look.

skinny love.

Dear Bon Iver/Justin Vernon, 

I know El Salvador is not Paris, but I invite you none the less to perform here in Northern Morazan El Salvador in a cabin nestled between mountains. I"ll bring candles, drinks and adoring Peace Corps fans.

Skinny love.

Come on skinny love just last the year
Pour a little salt we were never here
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Right in the moment this order's tall

And I told you to be patient
And I told you to be fine
And I told you to be balanced
And I told you to be kind
And in the morning I'll be with you
But it will be a different kind
And I'll be holding all the tickets
And you'll be owning all the fines

Come on skinny love, what happened here?
Suckle on the hope in light brassieres
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Sullen load is full, so slow on the split


And I told you to be patient
And I told you to be fine
And I told you to be balanced
And I told you to be kind
And now all your love is wasted
And then who the hell was I?
And I'm breaking at the britches
And at the end of all your lines

Who will love you?
Who will fight?
Who will fall far behind?

sweet dreams sans beetles

Introducing my bedroom.

Please note the standard Peace Corps issued bug net in fashionable yellow.

Here I am in bed, 

demonstrating how pleasant it is to be wrapped in this cocoon of protection 

against all bugs both carriers and non-carriers of disease 

however all are perpetrators of fear mongering.

There are no words to fully express 

the feeling of safety 

that washes over me while lying in the dark 

and hearing the beetles, BANG and BUZZ against the net. 

It has been explained to me 

this beetle occupation is due to the start of rainy season. 

The beetles have taken over northern Morazan but not my sleeping space. 

HA!

a cappella

listening to Bon Iver for the last few weeks motivated me to look up this youtube video I fell in love with about a year ago. enjoy.



Cut from the La Blogotheque podcast. Spontaneous a cappella version of "For Emma" in a Paris hallway before a house show. From the album "For Emma, Forever Ago".

Feliz Belated Día de la Tierra!

Earth Day in Perquin

Amun Shea choir singing for La Tierra

 posters for La Tierra

Hangin' around the light post for la Tierra

Folklorico for la Tierra

P.I.M.P. -in' for la Tierra

enjoying the show in the park for La Tierra

Lined up for La Tierra.

Antarctica for la Tierra

Ballet for la Tierra

Interpretive dance on immigration for La Tierra.

Lantis takes nap on La Tierra.

What did you do for La Tierra?

K.C. the infiltraiter.

As many of you know I studied and lived in East Jerusalem and sometimes visited and worked in the West Bank in Early 2009. The NGO I worked for was a primary news source for what was happening in the occupied territory. Furthermore they brought in different Palestinian and Israeli leaders to give talks in their West Bank office. Once I even went to the West Bank with Rabbis for Human Rights to plant olive trees in order to help the Palestinian land owner prove that his land had been cultivated within the last two years so that the Israeli goverment wouldn't take it from him in order to continue building the illegal seperation barrier.

I digress.

With Isreal's new order No. 1,650: Under this new draconian measure, anyone who doesn't have a "permit" to be in the West Bank is to be considered an "infiltrator" and subject to expulsion or risk up to seven years in jail.

Let me tell ya, their not handing those "permits" to just anyone. Especially students like me who study human rights and international law. Those topics automatically red flag a person as a Palestinian/anti Israel suspect. (I was detained twice because of this). Not fun.

Anyway, I find this experience in the West Bank and invaluable and with this new order in place current and future students along with other Internationals wanting to see for themselves first hand and share with the world the on the ground truth will no longer be allowed in. In this video the reporter shares with us that even HE a legitamate reporter was no longer going to be issued a press pass to enter and report from the West Bank.

So how are we going to get information? Just rely on the good conscience of the Israeli government to pass along the information? The same Israeli governement who in Jan 2009 Bombed an millions of innocent people in Gaza including a 2 UN schools being used as refugee centres?

BAH. Here's the video:

rainbow eucalyptus tree

Introducing (insert drum roll): the Rainbow Eucalyptus tree that I ran across a month ago in Tepetitan, my training community.

Thanks to my friend Leah (thanks leah!) and Facebook

I can now stop calling it "that cool naturally colored tree" 

 I posted the photo. Leah saw it. Then correctly identified the species.  Bam. 

feet, knees, bum and toes, bum and toes.

photo was taken as I was walking around a small pueblo in central El Salvador. Its common to see these types of spray painted murals of Monsenor Romero and Che Guevara.  I especially liked this for two reasons. First, the strapping shirtless cowboy in the doorway. Second, The quote under "Che":

"I rather die on my feet 

then live on my knees"

Current Status: Neither on my feet nor on my knees. Sitting.

my five string

 

Well...actually she's a 6 string.

A couple strings broke the first week I had her and didn't bother replacing them all since I was waiting for a guitar care package from my dad. Sure enough a few weeks ago I received the package containing a set of strings, music, and a turner.

The lack of tuner was my excuse to my host family for not playing. They have been incessantly asking me if and when I will be playing for them. So this is why I have yet to restring or tune my guitar.

Lets get this straight. I am not mean, rude or shy about playing for others. I just don’t know how!

I’m what a friend of mine called a “cliché peace corps volunteer”. It seems as though a good chunk of PCVs purchase guitars at the beginning of their service never having touched one eager to come away semi-pro just to end up selling the thing at the end of their service to new incoming volunteers who have the same false optimism. (this is all true b/c I’ve seen it happen already)

But I plan on being the exception. Yes I know I may possibility be suffering from classic “That only happens to other people but I’m different” disease. 

Let me make my case.

1. I already know how to play “a horse with no name” by a little band named America. You may have heard of them.

2. I come from a long line of guitar players. First, my dad has been jammin’ since the summer of 69 when he got his first real six string. HA ok fine so that’s a song but the man has been playing for as long as I can remember and he’s pretty good.  Then…my uncle Kory bless is little heart left behind a guitar after he passed away and it ended up in my falsely optimistic 13 year old hands. I quickly signed up for guitar lessons and then just as quickly quit going. But I stayed long enough to learn “A Horse with No Name” along with some of the basic chords.  I blame my small fingers.  Then I have two other cousins who play all the time. I mean they really play. We’re talking in front of people. With a band. With fans. So WHY NOT ME!? Right?

3. I’m a classically trained violin player. What I mean to say by this is that I get it. I know music. My fingers are comfortable with strings. My ear has been trained to know when its Right. Wrong. Sharp. Flat. Now this doesn’t mean I can sing but maybe I’ll just stick to songs in G or C or whatever the easiest key might be.

Photographic evidence and inspiration:

            

I know I’m not going to be the next Slash, Flea, Santana or Jimmy (Page or Hendrix) you pick. But I do have a few goal songs.

First to get in with the locals I need to learn Hotel California or some other famous 80’s song. Then for my personal enjoyment I would love to be able to play some of Tristan Prettyman’s songs. Then I need to learn how to play Skinny Love by Bon Iver so I can play with my BFF’s here in El Salvador.  And finally, I would love to get some of the songs my dad plays under my belt so that when I return I can jam out with him and my cousins and uncle during our big family get-togethers. Ya hear that Dad, Kris, Justin and Jarron? :)

About my guitar:

Cost: $40

Make and model : Local handmade guitar shop just outside San Vicente, El Salvador

Additional information: I love. love. love. my purplish woven shoulder strap.

“Dream Deep, for Every Dream Precedes the Goal”

CURRENT STATUS: no calluses on my fingers

under the mango tree

It’s Monday and I had absolutely no motivation to peel myself out of bed.

I'm always cold in the mornings...a balmy 65 degrees gets me curled up into the fetal position in bed.

It’s pretty disgraceful.

But regardless, once up and with my usual beans, eggs, and fried banana breakfast in my belly I felt like I might have the strength to get myself into the bathing area and pour ice cold water over my head.

I go out, stand in the scorching Central American sun and warm up a bit. In less than 60 seconds my skin starts to feel like its baking which signals to me its time to pour some ice cold water on me (insert melody of Def Leppard's Pour some sugar on me).

Aaahhh!! The first one's always the coldest. The trick is to pour at least two more guacals full of water over my head at rapid-fire speed to get my skin and senses over the shock.

Here are the photos of my new bathing area I mentioned in an earlier post.

please note the foliage in the background, I bathe under a mango tree...and off on stage right, are a couple banana trees and palm trees. That's the up side of this cold awakening each day.

CURRENT STATUS: Bathed and very awake, but still might go for some coffee (black w/sugar)

kárate friday

much to my surprise upon arrival to Amún Shéa, a school el Pato and I work with, was having Phys Ed. Japan style. Apparently a JICA volunteer (Japan's equivalant to Peace Corps) taught at the school and once gone left a legacy with the local P.E. teacher... watch out world... El Salvador is training to kick some boo-tay!

* i especially like the cow pie mines in the foreground . .  keepin it real.

Team Perquin

Here's to another fabulous friday
some photos from last week.
featuring Team Perquin: El Pato Hinkle, Teacher Julie,Doña tigra, and Lantis

serve.