Getting used to the taste of victory

Just as the Celtics advance towards the finals (fingers crossed for a closeout tonight), we got an early taste of victory when my home team, Metapán, won the national championship last Sunday, claiming their fourth title in seven seasons. Kind of insane. Just ask Motorcycle Carlos, above.

I was lucky enough to be at Sunday's game, which was wild, by the way. About a thousand degrees and packed. As in past years, the mayor sent 30 free buses from Meta, trying to fill the stadium with some sort of a Meta fan base, knowing full well that we couldn't compete with the other team's ridiculous numbers. They're a departmental team from San Miguel, which means they totally outnumbered the fans from our tiny pueblito up in the mountains. See? Check out all that ugly orange.


But we showed them what's up and silenced them early with a nasty goal in the 24th minute. After a few close calls, we somehow managed to stay alive, even scoring two more times. And when time expired, we went nuts.


Final score: 3-1. My boys and I screamed until we lost our voices. We were such underdogs, we never thought we'd win again. Another little bonus was that I was there with a few of the new Meta volunteers who definitely got into the action.

Here's Greg, one of the new health volunteers. He's also a fellow Mass-hole and a pretty damn cool guy.


Now look at this photo from after the game...


Notice anything different about Greg? Yep, the shirt. After the game, some drunk guys started bugging us. But before I could tell them to piss off, one of them notices Greg's not wearing a jersey, whips out an extra, and demands that he put it on. Pretty amazing. You know that thing they say about not judging a book by it's cover? So true. Thanks drunk guys! Sorry I gave you a fake number!

Now if only the Celts can wake up, pull things together and do the same...

A new roof. A new job.

A recent email/letter exchange with Sam inspired me to give more of a "what am I up to these days" post. So with that in mind...

What I am up to these days

Well, life down here is really coming together. Two years has been a blur, but I’m amazed at how if I think hard, I can actually remember every single day. Seriously. So I guess it's a vivid blur. Strange. It was never like that for me in the states.

Work is great, rewarding, and surprisingly stressful. Although I have to admit, it’s self-imposed stress. Peace Corps is definitely what you make of it. We’re all here for different reasons. In my case, I’m motivated by my toothless, illiterate community members who are in the slow process of creating toothless, illiterate offspring. That sounds harsh but it's true. If I can throw a wrench in their passive-aggressive plan to create clones of themselves, I will die a happy man. My tools: scholarships, dental health campaigns in the school, computer classes. They all help, but I often wonder if I’m making a dent. We’ll know when I come back in 10 years and my neighbors' kids are eating corn on the cob, or bowls of mush.

Family gardens

I’m continuing with my organic, no chemicals, no fertilizers, no vegetables garden. Just like last year, I planted tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes, beans and corn. But this time it’s actually producing for a change. Figuring out why would be as easy as solving a rubik's cube for me, although I have my theories.

1. My salty tears of failure have actually stimulated plant growth.
2. Bugs have gotten bored of eating my sad little tomatoes and radishes.

Here's a pic of my neighbor Melida showing me how it's done. Her garden makes my insides hurt with envy. But then again, I travel for weeks at a time, and guess who I leave in charge of watering my garden... Hmm, something's fishy here.



Raise the roof

Back in February and March, my community's ADESCO (anyone remember what the hell that is? Good!) applied for a USAID SPA grant (Small Project Assistance) to put a new roof on our community’s school. The old one was made of this crumbly, grey cement shit that’s supposed to last five years. 14 years later, you can imagine how well it was holding up.

SPA grants are small, government grants up to $2,500 that allow PCVs to plan workshops, camps, and do small infrastructure projects in their communities. In essence, cash from the US gubment to get stuff done. The community has to contribute at least 25% of the budget, which they usually do by providing labor and transport. My rabbit project was a SPA grant and the community contributed by building their own cages, supports, and providing transport.

Originally I was mentally setting up for a large-scale latrine project for something like 25 families. There are a ton of families who don't have latrines and simply go out to the monte. But the USAID requirements were recently changed and latrine projects are no longer being approved. Then a conversation with our ADESCO president (motorcycle Carlos for those who've visited) motivated me to look into school infrastructure projects.

We pursued it, applied a few weeks later, received $1,557 in USAID funds not long after, and in a little under two months working our culos off before rainy season came, voila! A new roof!




I wish I had taken more photos of what the old, crumbling roof was like. Man, that thing had more holes in it than the Iraq war justification. Hey oooo!

But this new roof is bomb-proof, made from a material called ZincAlúm, which is worth it just for the oohs and aahs that people utter whenever I get the chance to mention it, which is frequently. It’s not unlike saying you just got an electric car. Or your car now runs on a flux capacitor.

It goes without saying, we're pretty damn proud. And it was a great moment for our community's ADESCO.

Soccer soccer soccer soccer soccer!

No surprise, this country is obsessed with futbol. My community is no exception. And for the past two months, every Sunday we've been hosting a soccer tournament that the sports committee organized to raise money to buy a weed whacker.

To be honest, it’s been both great and bad at the same time. Great because I’ve been forced to be in the community every weekend, and bad because I've been forced to be in the community every weekend. I love being here but it’s tough cramming everything into the Monday to Friday work week so I’ll be able to help out on Sunday morning. Not to mention the legwork and glad-handing to get sponsors.

It was tough work, but it's paying off. Each Sunday we're selling out of beer and food, and in just a few more Sundays, we'll have enough to buy what we need and create a rainy-day fund. From the money we raised from past tournaments, we bought soccer nets, community uniforms, and made repairs to the field.

Here are a few pics from some of the past Sundays' games.







It’s Always Sunny in El Salvador

I’d say it's always a good sign when your best bud from first grade and your best bud from El Salvador recommend the same thing the same week.

At nights in the campo there's not a whole lot to do. I generally put on a few podcasts and do laundry, cook, or work on my garden. But I also pour myself a glass of wine, put on a few movies, and just veg out in my hammock. And thanks to Sam, I'm set for a while.

Just as Jimbo was loading up my hard drive with the first couple seasons of a criminally funny show he just discovered, I open up my mailbox to see a surprise package from Sam. A shirt, a solid candy selection, and the first three seasons of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Incredible.

It's full of awkward silences like The Office or Curb, but way more vulgar. Like NC-17 stuff. My neighbor once surprised me when I was watching an episode, before I could open an excel spreadsheet and pretend I was working, and it took me about half an hour just to explain why the main characters trying crack cocaine was funny. It didn't go well.

Anyway, my goal lately has been trying to choose a favorite episode, but to be honest, they’re all so good it hurts. It’s like choosing your favorite flavor of Starburst. You think you’ve got a favorite (the pink, no the red!), but then you remember that they’re all incredible compared to a handful of measly Fig Newtons, loser kids’ sad answer to junk food. So you admit defeat and like a pussy, you refuse to choose a favorite.

So thank you Sam and Jimbo for showing me the way.

New Job

And last but not least, my new job. So yeah, I got one. I guess it's strange to take all this time explaining what I've been up to when it's all going to change. But I was long overdue for an update post and maybe I felt a little sentimental for the good ol' times.

The big news is that I recently accepted a new job with Peace Corps to work for the remaining six months of my extension as a Regional Leader in Chalatenango, a mountainous department up in the northwest region.


I'll still be a volunteer, but I'll be switching gears to work more as a liaison between volunteers and PC staff, conducting site visits and trying to link up PCVs working in the same region. I am focusing on future site development and security so it'll be an interesting transition.

Originally, they wanted me to move to Chalate, but I felt that moving to another part of the country for my last six months in country (five, I guess, since I'll be in Boston for July) wouldn't be how I wanted to end my service. But we agreed on a split schedule and I'll be commuting back and forth between Chalate and my current host community, trying to continue my projects and relationships despite not living there 24/7.

I actually just got back from my first formal trip to the region, where I met some of the volunteers and went apartment shopping in a little artisan town. It was pretty amazing. I'll post some photos later. The apartment's actually going to be more of a crashpad than a real apartment. A place to keep my things and make the experience a little easier.

It’s a bitter-sweet moment in my service because it naturally means significantly less time in my community. Less time where I feel most comfortable in this country, surrounded by my friends and family. But growth only comes from change and challenge, no?

I'll keep you updated.