You may have noticed that I recently added a "Wish List" to the right side of the page. If you hadn't, check it out. It's just below the photos. Go ahead, scroll around and find it. Got it? Good.
Now see anything there that you might have in a beat up cardboard box in the garage or lying around your apartment? Well let's find a better home for it! Keep reading...
It dawned on me the other day that I never posted some pretty important news. About a month ago, I applied for and received a six-month extension to continue working in my community. Officially, I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer until Adamoiselle's birthday, November 1. Man, even writing that date makes me wish I'd asked for a full year extension. I can't tell you how much I enjoy the work and the community in which I live. If you've walked the dusty roads of my community, or shared a Salva Cola with my neighbors, you understand.
Well since the extension will grant me a few more vacation days, 12 to be exact, I plan on cashing them in and returning to the states for the entire month of July. Chuck and Dana's wedding is just too big to miss and the ALS Ride, Steve, and Team America are calling me.
It should be ridiculous. After a full 22 months of being outside the states, I'm not sure how I'm going to react.
While I'm back, I'm looking forward to reconnecting with each of you, and will bring up the prepaid cell Sam got me back in September 2008 if you need to reach me. Lunches, dinners, camping trips, you name it. If all goes well, I'll even be back for the Fourth of July, which I haven't celebrated stateside in three years.
So, in the months leading up to July, please take an afternoon to rifle through your basements, garages, roommates' stuff, whatever and if you encounter anything you'd like to donate to my community members or the people of El Salvador, please contact me and we'll arrange a pick-up/drop-off. I plan on bringing a giant, empty backpack and won't leave until it's filled up.
One last thing. We're currently in the process of organizing a fundraising/awareness get-together in JP while I'm back. I'll also be accepting donations then, and will let you all know of the date and location once they're confirmed.
Many thanks in advance.
2.26.2010
2.19.2010
An update on the relief efforts
Here's a long-overdue post on the hurricane relief efforts and my man Jimbo out east.
Over the passed couple months, I know many of you generously donated thousands of dollars to help families affected by Hurricane Ida through the Aid El Salvador webpage. This is the same NGO that my boss founded back when she was a volunteer and that will be managing the scholarship funds we raise for my community's kids. More on this later, but in the meantime, here's a link.
By now, you might be curious to know the status of the relief projects and the families involved. I am writing now to briefly update you on those efforts and to ensure that your hard-earned cash is going to the hard-working people rebuilding these communities.
First off, the AES cash. I was recently in contact with the folks at AES who explained that we are in the equivalent of relief work limbo, which is all too common after a disaster. If you're following the relief efforts in Haiti, or a few years back with New Orleans, you know how complicated this can get. Basically, this situation is this: we got the cash, we're ready to rebuild, but should we?
Peace Corps staff and AES coordinated efforts to get families the immediate relief they needed in the days and weeks following the disaster. Clothes, mattresses, food and water were all brought to the landslide zone so that families would, at the very least, not have to worry about water sources or where they were going to sleep that night. But rebuilding in an area in which a landslide could plausibly reoccur isn't necessarily the best option, so there is still a great deal to be worked out. Vamos a ver...
Jimbo, on the other hand, doesn't need anyone to tell him what's up. He's knee deep in projects and up on the mountain getting it done like a true Spartan. Recently he teamed up with an organization called Un Techo Para Mi Pais (A Roof For My Country) which builds small, pre-fabricated wood and aluminum houses in high-poverty and disaster areas throughout Latin America. A large group of us are heading there this weekend to get our hands dirty and help out any way we can.
Here's the link again to his blog for more info:
<<< How do dogs know Spanish? >>>
Over the passed couple months, I know many of you generously donated thousands of dollars to help families affected by Hurricane Ida through the Aid El Salvador webpage. This is the same NGO that my boss founded back when she was a volunteer and that will be managing the scholarship funds we raise for my community's kids. More on this later, but in the meantime, here's a link.
By now, you might be curious to know the status of the relief projects and the families involved. I am writing now to briefly update you on those efforts and to ensure that your hard-earned cash is going to the hard-working people rebuilding these communities.
First off, the AES cash. I was recently in contact with the folks at AES who explained that we are in the equivalent of relief work limbo, which is all too common after a disaster. If you're following the relief efforts in Haiti, or a few years back with New Orleans, you know how complicated this can get. Basically, this situation is this: we got the cash, we're ready to rebuild, but should we?
Peace Corps staff and AES coordinated efforts to get families the immediate relief they needed in the days and weeks following the disaster. Clothes, mattresses, food and water were all brought to the landslide zone so that families would, at the very least, not have to worry about water sources or where they were going to sleep that night. But rebuilding in an area in which a landslide could plausibly reoccur isn't necessarily the best option, so there is still a great deal to be worked out. Vamos a ver...
Jimbo, on the other hand, doesn't need anyone to tell him what's up. He's knee deep in projects and up on the mountain getting it done like a true Spartan. Recently he teamed up with an organization called Un Techo Para Mi Pais (A Roof For My Country) which builds small, pre-fabricated wood and aluminum houses in high-poverty and disaster areas throughout Latin America. A large group of us are heading there this weekend to get our hands dirty and help out any way we can.
Here's the link again to his blog for more info:
<<< How do dogs know Spanish? >>>
2.05.2010
Beef. It’s what’s for dinner
WARNING. There are no laws in El Salvador regulating the backyard slaughter of a cow. For reasons which will become immediately obvious to those who choose to continue reading, anyone even somewhat weak of stomach or animal rightsy should avoid the following post...
I live in the campo. That means the woods, the boonies, the sticks. And in the campo, it goes without saying we kill animals and eat them. Every day. We do this because children who eat meat, beans and tortillas once a week grow up bigger than the ones who just eat beans and tortillas. And sometimes, the meat that kids eat comes from that cute cow you passed on your way to the school. You know, that black one with the cool white splotch extending across his side, like someone hopped out from behind a tree and mischievously splashed it with a bucket of paint.
At this point, I believe I should mention for the record that I firmly believe cows are:
1. oddly cute
2. have pretty eyelashes
3. are an icon of pastoral life.
But deep down, we all know the facts. We’re carnivores and one of them feeds hundreds of us.
So here ya go. A quick primer on killing a cow.
Am I safe to say that most of you haven’t done this? And if you have, you cow-killers you, will you be insulted if I explain things that may seem obvious to you and other cow-killers? I hope that you won’t.
For starters, killing a cow is a big deal. They cost hundreds of dollars and take years to raise to maturity. The one we killed and ate was three years old. My buddy Carlos (Cowboy Carlos to those who've had the pleasure of visiting and meeting him in person) had raised it for a special occasion. I wasn't kidding, by the way, about what I said above. They really do feed hundreds of people. The catch is, they’re a bitch to kill and make into bite-sized pieces.
So what do you do? You call up your buddies, invite them over, and go to town on the big guy.
Ok, now the back story...
About two weeks ago, Cowboy Carlos's eldest son got married. And to celebrate the occasion, Carlos, a few friends and I slaughtered one of his cows. A big one. A bull, in fact, that apparently tipped the scales at around 700 lb.
The process of killing and butchering him took way longer than I expected, having only seen a butchering a few years back in training and having not stuck around for the full process. It's quite a bit to take in. Here's a glimpse of what's to come just in case you're not ready.
Man, those blue eyes were mesmerizing. Where was I? Ah yes, cow death. Apparently, by the way, not as bad as pig death. But that's not saying much. At this point, I'm glad I have to take their word for it.
After we tied him up, our fearless leader Carlos started it off with a quick stab, just behind the head. I was surprised, but as if on cue, the big guy quickly lost his balance and fell down. Okay, so apparently that's where cows keep their gyroscopes. After that, Carlos made two large holes in the jugular and you can imagine what happened next. A lot of blood. Torrents of it.
After about 20 minutes, the sides of our beautiful beast stopped moving. Somebody deemed him ready to go and, using a series of ropes passed through branches from the mango tree overhead, we turned him on his side. Carlos grabbed his knife and quickly went to work stripping the hide.
After the hide's off, you really start going at it. I kept joking that we could all save a lot of time if I went and got my neighbor's chainsaw. And that's when they brought out the axes.
"Jesus, what the hell are you gonna do with those?" I asked.
Then this old guy grabbed one, ran his finger along the edge to make sure it had something to it and started going to town on the ribs.
Hey, I’m feeling kind of nauseous and have dry-heaved multiple times in the past 10 minutes. But you know what I need? Snacks. Lots of 'em. And coffee. Fuck it, how ‘bout a coffee break?
This is about the time one of my female neighbors shows up and just quietly sits on a rock under a tree, waiting patiently. It wasn't until we separated the stomach, intestines and unidentifiables that she perked up and I started to discovered why.
Here the men are haul the good stuff far enough away for her to work "comfortably" they said. Translation: even they were kind of grossed out she was going to make soup from that.
Later on, the expert butcher we brought in, turns the giant slabs of meat into their more familiar looking form - steaks for the wedding banquet.
And there you have it. Elapsed time: 7 hours.
For the most part, the big guy just laid there and accepted his fate. I think maybe that's the part that was toughest to watch. Seeing this enormous creature pass from one astral plane to the other. Or if you're feeling more philosophical, passing from here and there to everywhere.
I live in the campo. That means the woods, the boonies, the sticks. And in the campo, it goes without saying we kill animals and eat them. Every day. We do this because children who eat meat, beans and tortillas once a week grow up bigger than the ones who just eat beans and tortillas. And sometimes, the meat that kids eat comes from that cute cow you passed on your way to the school. You know, that black one with the cool white splotch extending across his side, like someone hopped out from behind a tree and mischievously splashed it with a bucket of paint.
At this point, I believe I should mention for the record that I firmly believe cows are:
1. oddly cute
2. have pretty eyelashes
3. are an icon of pastoral life.
But deep down, we all know the facts. We’re carnivores and one of them feeds hundreds of us.
So here ya go. A quick primer on killing a cow.
Am I safe to say that most of you haven’t done this? And if you have, you cow-killers you, will you be insulted if I explain things that may seem obvious to you and other cow-killers? I hope that you won’t.
For starters, killing a cow is a big deal. They cost hundreds of dollars and take years to raise to maturity. The one we killed and ate was three years old. My buddy Carlos (Cowboy Carlos to those who've had the pleasure of visiting and meeting him in person) had raised it for a special occasion. I wasn't kidding, by the way, about what I said above. They really do feed hundreds of people. The catch is, they’re a bitch to kill and make into bite-sized pieces.
So what do you do? You call up your buddies, invite them over, and go to town on the big guy.
Ok, now the back story...
About two weeks ago, Cowboy Carlos's eldest son got married. And to celebrate the occasion, Carlos, a few friends and I slaughtered one of his cows. A big one. A bull, in fact, that apparently tipped the scales at around 700 lb.
The process of killing and butchering him took way longer than I expected, having only seen a butchering a few years back in training and having not stuck around for the full process. It's quite a bit to take in. Here's a glimpse of what's to come just in case you're not ready.
Man, those blue eyes were mesmerizing. Where was I? Ah yes, cow death. Apparently, by the way, not as bad as pig death. But that's not saying much. At this point, I'm glad I have to take their word for it.
After we tied him up, our fearless leader Carlos started it off with a quick stab, just behind the head. I was surprised, but as if on cue, the big guy quickly lost his balance and fell down. Okay, so apparently that's where cows keep their gyroscopes. After that, Carlos made two large holes in the jugular and you can imagine what happened next. A lot of blood. Torrents of it.
After about 20 minutes, the sides of our beautiful beast stopped moving. Somebody deemed him ready to go and, using a series of ropes passed through branches from the mango tree overhead, we turned him on his side. Carlos grabbed his knife and quickly went to work stripping the hide.
After the hide's off, you really start going at it. I kept joking that we could all save a lot of time if I went and got my neighbor's chainsaw. And that's when they brought out the axes.
"Jesus, what the hell are you gonna do with those?" I asked.
Then this old guy grabbed one, ran his finger along the edge to make sure it had something to it and started going to town on the ribs.
Hey, I’m feeling kind of nauseous and have dry-heaved multiple times in the past 10 minutes. But you know what I need? Snacks. Lots of 'em. And coffee. Fuck it, how ‘bout a coffee break?
This is about the time one of my female neighbors shows up and just quietly sits on a rock under a tree, waiting patiently. It wasn't until we separated the stomach, intestines and unidentifiables that she perked up and I started to discovered why.
Here the men are haul the good stuff far enough away for her to work "comfortably" they said. Translation: even they were kind of grossed out she was going to make soup from that.
Later on, the expert butcher we brought in, turns the giant slabs of meat into their more familiar looking form - steaks for the wedding banquet.
And there you have it. Elapsed time: 7 hours.
For the most part, the big guy just laid there and accepted his fate. I think maybe that's the part that was toughest to watch. Seeing this enormous creature pass from one astral plane to the other. Or if you're feeling more philosophical, passing from here and there to everywhere.
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