Christmas Eve Story Time

Hope everyone had a fantastic Christmas.  I spent mine eating chicken all day and blowing up fireworks at night. Down here Christmas Eve is a bigger deal than Christmas  (I guess they havn´t figured out the whole Santa Claus thing yet).  Anyways I started the 24th with a nice hot soup of gallina india (gallina india is supposed to me more flavorful than regular gallina because it is raised on the farm, opposed to the house).  I was lucky enough to get a piece of the gallina that had some unidentified parts.  I ate it anyways and what a surprise, it tasted like chicken.  I took off for a walk and stopped by the Portillo household for a nice chat and a lunch of chicken, rice, salad, tortillas and potatoe chips with coleslaw.  Took a siesta in the hammock and swooped by the Posada household for some fun with the kids.  We had fruitshakes and played bingo until 5pm.  I then jumped a block to the other Posada household where I thought I became as full as I could.  I ate 2 giant chicken sandwiches some strange fruit and lots of sugary goodies.  We watched the end of some boxing match and I made my way for my last stop at the Escobar household around 7pm.  I enjoyed a dinner identical to my lunch at the Portillo household.

Now, take a mental note of all the chicken I had eaten this day.  This is where the story gets goood!

So I´m powering through this dinner trying to stuff as much food in my mouth to not offend the family, when two teenagers come in to talk to the dad, Ernesto or Netio.  They inform him that their dad took a spill on his bike and they were wondering if Netio could take a look.  Apparently, Netio is some sort of pueblo certified, people trusted Orthopedist.  The man sits down, already looking like he is in a world of hurt.  They take off the blankets wrapped around him to reveal his arm in a sling (I am still eating at this point).  I take a closer look and realize his left clavical is floating about 2.5 inches higher than his right clavical.  Of course Netio already whipped out his magical creme and began to warm his hands.  I´m thinking 9-1-1, Netio is thinking deep tissue massage (I take a break from eating to observe closer).  Netio carefully removes the arm from the sling and begins the deep tissue massage.  Now this si the first time I felt like puking.  Netio begins lifting the man´s arm and performing some active release techniques I´ve only seen in the UC Davis sports physical therapy center.  This man´s face told me he was in a lot of pain, but I gotta give it to him.  He didn´t squeal once.  I told him repeatedly that he has huge juevos and that I really wanted to cry for him.  Netio continued for about 10 minutes.  Pulling, pushing, rubbing, tugging, lifting, and all out playing with this guy´s arm.  At one point Netio called me closer to show me how much he could push this mans collar bone down with it returning to its raised position. This was the second time I had ganas to puke.  I was realling hurting watching this guy cringe in his seat and felt bad that there wasn´t a real doctor within shouting distance.  Finally I asked the man if he could use anything, some water, booze, vicadin, morphine, or a pillow.  He only shook his head no and made the universal vomit sign with his hand.  I took a big step to the side and watched the show.

He broke free from Netio´s grasp and hunched over in his chair.  The first blast of vomit shot his dentures straight out onto the ground.  He continued to vomit on his dentures for a few minutes, until someone snatched them up to clean them off.  Once the man fought off vomitting and the pain, Netio told him it is best he go to the ER.  HaHaHa, I could have told him that without the marathon of pain.  Netio threw the man´s arm into the sling and sent him packing for the ER.  The man thanked us for our help and took off.

We had a great laugh once the guy was out of ear shot.  I guess someone puking out their dentures is funny no matter the language.  Merry Christmas to me.  We spent the next hour throwing fireworks in the street.

More to come after the New Year.
Peace out cub scouts.

Cory

Victory is ours!!!!! We won the JICA vs. Peace Corps soccer game.  I think I will say it was the first time in Peace Corps history.  It was an amazing day at Estadio Cuscatlan.  The stadium was packed (see picture).  We beat the Japanese volunteers 3-2.  It was quite the physical game; the Japanese volunteers were a little pushy on the field.  After the game the JICA volunteers and Peace Corps volunteers had a little get together at the Peace Corps office where we enjoyed nachos, chex mix, soda and fun name games.  I was really impressed with the JICA volunteers´ Spanish.  I think the Peace Corps volunteers have it easier because of all the cognates between English and Spanish.  The JICA volunteers have to learn a brand new alphabet and pronunciation.  It was really fun talking with them and comparing the differences between their assignments here and ours.  The JICA volunteers are assigned to a specific place or institution where the carry out their projects.  Unlike the Peace Corps volunteers that are given a community and a very broad program title.  I met a JICA that worked at the Agricultural University called ENA, another that works with the fishermen in Sonsonate to help them make more profit from their catch, and one that is a Tae Kwon Do teacher at the University.  I am thinking of getting my Japanese citizenship and becoming a JICA volunteer that coaches water polo or maybe a surf team.  Anyways, great experience and can´t wait to beat them next year.

Couldn´t even hear my teammates it was so loud....

Going back in time here, two days before the JICA game I took off on foot with Javier (my counterpart and housemate), his friend from the University, and 5 bichas.  We hiked about two hours into the mountains to a cantone called Ajute (I think that’s how its spelled).  Javier has a bunch of extended family up there with a ton of land.  So we took off at 5am and started the treacherous hike up the mountains.  We arrived at Ajute about the time I would normally be rolling out of bed and were welcomed with a nice breakfast of refried beans and tortillas.  After a long nap in the hammock I was woken up by a little girl trying to swing me to the moon in my hammock.

Devil child that woke me up...

The hike on the way up...

We spent the rest of the day wrestling around and playing dominoes.  It was really fun being a child with a giant group of girls.  They made sure that I felt like one of them, which was quite easy.  They loved to do the same things I do; climb trees, play dominoes, ride horses (not anymore, more info to follow), eat pupusas, star gaze, pull hair, play tag, take pictures, touching my face, and sleeping.  I was exhausted from the early morning hike, but these girls carried me through the day.

Barefootin´ it up the tree...

 Some monkeys I found in the tree...

 Before almost dying...

So more about why I don’t like riding horses anymore.  First of all, I have never ridden a horse before this experience.  I just liked the idea of riding a horse.  The whole cowboy image, I thought it kind of fit me.  So the family had a mule, which is great for the mountains and a lot easier to get on.  I mentioned that I wanted to ride their mule so they brought it out to the field where there was some open space.  I tried to listen carefully to the kids while they sped through the instructions of how to ride.  After a trial run with the mule I thought I had the generally idea of how to steer the beast.  The kids told me to kick it with my legs and give it a nice kissing sound so I repeated instructions and was immediately reminded who is in control.  The mule took off running like a bat out of hell.  It B-lined it for the nearest barb wired fence and right when I thought I was gonna get tossed in a mound of cow shit, the mule halted and stood there like an innocent puppy.  So this is where I almost shat myself.  I casually talked to the beast and told him I wanted to turn around slowly and head back to the kids.  This is where I think things went terribly wrong, I TALKED TO HIM IN ENGLISH!  The beast got super pissed off and headed for the dirt road nearby.  He put it into overdrive and we took off in a beautiful gallop bruising my butt and inner thighs.  The beast must have misinterpreted my English for ¨Hey, why don´t we see how fast you can gallop on the way home¨ because he let it all out on the open road.  My life flashed before my eyes multiple times before we swiftly arrived back at the house.  Meanwhile, where were the kids to whisper sweet nothings into the beast´s ears to slow it down? They were too busy laughing.  I promise you this was not a laughing matter. I was screaming like a niña.  When we arrived at the house I decided to talk to it in Spanish and tell him I was gonna get my ass off of its back now.  It didn’t like my gringo accent either because it continued to hammer the gate to the house with its head or would not relax a second to let me down.  Finally the children came to my rescue and fork lifted me off the beast.  That was a thrilling experience and now it is clear that I don´t like riding anything that looks like a horse, only the idea of being a cowboy.  The day ended with some star gazing in the campo.  The next morning I had to make my way back down the mountain to catch a bus at 7am in order to make it to the capital.  What a trip.

Hanging out under the stars...

Chokehold...

Things are moving rapidly here in La Reina, the navidad is right around the corner.  It is going to be a little different not having Christmas with the family, but everyone know that I am thinking of you.

Love you all,

Cory

High point before the new year

Things are starting to get real lively around the pueblo.  Every house has their own nacimiento or birth of baby jesus.  Every street corner is littered with lights, the park is filled with giant presents and santa claus.  My host mom demanded that I fabricate a market and a small pueblo out of cardboard boxes for her own nacimiento.  Apparently the people include a police station, mariachi band, a excursion bus and even toy convertible cars.  They think of everything here.  The fireworks haven’t been too bad recently, a couple here and there but apparently it is supposed to be a war zone come the 24^th.  I will be spending the navidad in my pueblo but deciding to take the new year to myself on the beach.

I may have scared some people with the last posts, but really amazing things do happen in this country.  There is more than getting robbed and seeing dead bodies.  I had two amazing trips with some of the most talented and determined youth in the country.

It started with a WYD camp in Suchitoto, Cuscátlan.  For those of you that don´t know about WYD, it is a volunteer selected committee that raises money to give high school and college scholarships to kids in El Salvador.  The emphasis of WYD is for volunteers to become mentors to the kids that they apply for scholarships.  So not only are these kids receiving an education beyond what would normally be feasible, they also have a positive role model in their life that takes an interest in their studies and their life in general.  Twice a year we put on camps for the scholar students.  The first camp is more of a technical camp where we give them life skills training, such as preparing for an interview, self-esteem, self-defense, decision making, time management and prioritization.  The second is a reward to all the kids that have completed the school year.

Since I am a new member I was unable to attend the first camp.  But last weekend I attended the second camp where we took them on the lake, to an art gallery, played games, came up with skits, had art classes, went to a waterfall, and had a civil war discussion.  I was very impressed with all the kids.  They are outgoing, intelligent, creative, friendly and respectful.  At the end of the 3 day camp some volunteers that will be finishing their service in the next few months got up and gave the kids a little speech.  Each volunteer that gave a speech either started or ended in tears.  They made it clear that working on the WYD committee and with these kids was by far the most influential part of their service.  After the volunteers, some scholar students got up and gave their thoughts.  Again, tears flowed.  And I can´t lie, I was on the verge of tears.  I almost lost it when one of the kids welcomed Andrew and I into the WYD club and thanked us (even though we haven’t done anything yet).  I left for my site after the camp in deep thought and touched by what I learned from those kids.  I am super excited to be on WYD and to get to know the kids some more in my site.

 Boat ride, scholar student deep in thought...

 Drawing lessons...

 Waterfall, minus water...

 Yesterday I had to wake up at 5am (3 hours before my normal wake up) to head to a Youth Festival.  I went with Don Roberto (Casa de Cultura director), Marina (young activist in the community), and three high school kids that can sing their hearts out.  The festival was set in the department of Cabañas.  Every Casa de Cultura in Chalatenango and Cabañas was invited to bring any youth group to show off their skills.  There was dancing, singing, karate, mambas, bongos, ranchero, folklore dancing, theater, painting, jewelry, and some religious performance.  It was an amazing turnout and I am really glad I got to go.  The kids are really starting to take to me and feel confident joking around with me.


Niño enjoying the mamba music...

 Kids from my pueblo singing, Ceci and Christian...

 Some sort of cultural/religious ceremonial dance...

  On the way back we were in a micro with a theater group from a nearby pueblo.  It was a rowdy bunch of teenagers.  We had joke telling time and when they asked me to tell I joke I insisted I only have jokes in English.  They insisted more that I tell it in English.  I knew where this was going.  So I pulled out the only joke I could think of (all credit to Zanique Albert for the joke):

So, a guy walks into a bar (at this point everyone laughed by I ensured them there was more to the joke). Again, a guy walks into a bar.  He sees a bear sitting down. He takes a seat next to the bear and notices that the bear looked a little sad.  The man says, ¨whats wrong mr. bear?¨  The bear looks at the man and replies, ¨well you see the thing is…………………….I lost my job¨  The man says, ¨whats with the big pause?¨  The bear replies, holding up his paws ¨what? These paws?¨

At this point I knew nobody understood.  The bus got really quit and I told them that they made me do it.  I still received applause, but they didn’t ask me for another joke.  Damn kids.

The micro full of kids...

It was still a great time taking backroads to Chalatenango.  My day ended with playing some street soccer with another family in the neighborhood. 

Good times. Next Saturday is my soccer game in Estadio Cuscátlan against the Japanese volunteers. USA, USA, USA.