Welcome to El Salvador

Longest three weeks of my life.

It has been really hard for me to start a blog about life here, frankly because it has been really rough. I want to explain things like I experience them, but when I try, it makes everything sound awful. And it is often awful. But I am beginning to discover quite a bit of humor even in the miserable things and have decided to consider them opportunities for personal growth. So I´m spending a lot of my energy working on my yet underdeveloped skills of patience, flexibility and letting go. I´m going to be so full of character by the end of my time here, you all won´t be able to stand me!! So with all that in mind, here are, for better or for worse, some facts of life in El Salvador. . .

I bathe using a bucket dipped into a giant stone basin called a pila (read: Dengue breeding ground) in the middle of the front courtyard, in full view of the street. The water is so cold, steam rolls off my body. Oh, and evidently my washcloth wasn´t cutting it for the family I live with, so they gave me a kitchen scouring pad to scrub myself.

Pickups. Public transportation consists of standing in the back of an old pickup truck smooshed in with upwards of 20 people, holding onto a bar with all your might as you careen into the mountains, trying not to get robbed, the sides of the truck grinding on the road as you round corners, and people climbing all over the sides because they won´t fit inside.

Bitey ants everywhere. They try to break my spirit. The climb into my clothes that are hanging out dry then get all over me and my family laughs. They are all over the table, the food, the walls, the dishes. I hate hate hate ants.

The storms are incredible. The thunder and lightning are epic. The rain is so hard, it actually hurts my ears.

Chickens are evil. They get all rowdy at random points during the night. I haven´t slept a full night yet. And they poop all over the house, but at least the dog is usually following right behind ready to slurp it up. I can´t blame him for being excited about the chicken poo snacks, as all he gets fed are leftover tortillas.

Until you´ve stood helpless watching a Salvadoran woman concentrate all her might on raking your favorite $50 bra over the jagged rock pila, you have no idea the beating clothes take here. In three weeks the pila has eaten two shirts, one pair of underwear, and several buttons. It´s ravenous.

I am terrified of the latrine. Besides the cockroaches, ringworm, bat, and door that doesn´t close, the single biggest spider I´ve ever seen in my life lives inside the seat. Oh, and by seat I mean concrete hole. I haven´t decided if it is scarier when I see him or when I don´t. And he´s white. I don´t know if that really means anything, but it makes him extra freaky.

I learned how to make tortillas. The grandma I share a room with deemed them, ¨Not too ugly.¨ She also says that when I learn how to make them round, I´ll be ready to get married. YES! Just what I was going for!! On this theme, they prefer it if I wear makeup, constantly introduce me to men, and they bought me lacy underwear.

Hiking, pupusas, jugadores, volcanoes, hammocks, women carrying baskets on their heads, men wielding machetes on their belts, swarms of kids following me, telenovelas, $1 dinners, reggaeton, fireworks at mass, dancing, pan dulce. So many parts of this experience are just beautiful.

And whatever the experience, I´ll say this for El Salvador: I am NEVER bored here!