Thanks for the care package!

Not sure who sent it, but thank you (whoever you are) for the xmas package! It was exactly what I needed... two gringas and new year's at the beach.



Well, another bold pair of gringos has ventured south and survived the savior. By now we've put together quite the little packaged tour. A little bit of community time, a night in the mountains, some coffee time in Juayua, and finishing up with a few days at the beach.

Here are a few shots from the week...

We started out in my community, where the fearless gringuitas dove head first into the experience. Bucket baths, hot, dusty roads, and of course, the infamous roosters. "You mean roosters crow at two in the morning too?" Yep, they do.

They met my neighbor, Melida, and her four beautiful daughters, and got a good taste of campo life. Here they are at my local wholefoods



And here's mom giving tortillas the old college try



Ellie using the "dishwasher"



In general, we just sort of hung out in and around my house. I wanted them to acclimate and to sort of soak in the pace of life in the campo. Plus, they were visiting in one of the driest, hottest months, and even my idiot dog who eats rocks (yes, eats rocks) knows walking around in the afternoon sun means certain death.

But when the air cooled, we ventured out. One afternoon we hiked to the edge of my community and up to a hill overlooking the volcanoes and nearby lake, shared with Guatemala. We turned around and were stunned by a pretty amazing sunset. I couldn't remember the last time I actually sat and watched one.



Afterwards, we went mobile and hopped around to mountaintop villages and pueblos around the country, trying to give them a sense of tiny El Salvador. Highlights included small artisanal workshops, a healthy amount of hitchhiking, and an impromptu reiki session at a french bakery.





Hitchhiking mom



Hitchhiking Ellie



Later we met up with a few of my buddies at the beach. Here's one of those idiots showing off the guns



We hotel hopped and found a nice one with... drumroll please... a waterfall and an infinity pool. Here's Ellie enjoying infinite relaxation







I think in the lead up to the trip, I definitely had my concerns about what type of a trip we were going to have. They weren't exactly like Ben and Adam, my camping compadres and indestructible as far as I was concerned. But I knew it was important for me to share my life in the campo and reconnect with my mom(s) worrying about me back home. I think most people have a tendency to imagine the worst, like how I had been worrying about them, until they step foot in my house, talk with my neighbors, and see the people I work with. In short, see how good a life it is.

I think after that, all those fears, irrational or not, seem to fade away.

Besos and abrazos to the ladies for taking the plunge. Much love. G

Let's catch up. It's been a while - Part II

Guatemala, aka, Indigenouslandia

A while back, actually like months ago, Lauren and I took some time off to visit our upstairs neighbor, Guatemala. We could hear the music and smell the food and just couldn't resist.

If you haven't been, which I'm guessing you haven't, Guatemala is a remarkable country. Somehow able to modernize with the times, yet retain its indigenous heritage. Add to that some of the most impressive geography around, and you got yourself a pretty cool place.

As usual, our week hitchhiking and couchsurfing flew by. Along the way, we met some amazingly cool people. Guatemalans who opened up their homes to us without a second thought, gringos living down south, making maps, teaching art and yoga.

If you've never traveled without a plan, I don't think I could ever fully express what it's like. You begin to feel like a leaf floating in the breeze. Just trusting that you'll get where you need to get eventually. It's truly freeing.

You could literally spend months exploring Guatemala's nooks and crannies. And it would take me just as long to write about it. But here are a few memories from the trip.

Indigenousness

Probably the one word I would associate best with Guatemala.







I mean, damn! Look at those colors. We were struck by the rainbow of clothes and people. It was actually way cooler than I could ever show, but enough people told me about Mayan law and how the people reeeeeally don't like getting their picture taken (read: public lynching), so I decided to holster it for a while.

Halloween at 14,000 feet

In search of something a little off the beaten path, Lauren and I decided to spend Halloween waaaaay off the beaten path, on Tajumulco, the highest peak in Central America.

Imagine a dirt road that just sort of dissolves into pastures, and those pastures dissolve into pine forests rising up out of the hillsides, which then dissolve into boulder fields leading into whiteness above. Eventually your only guide is the mountaintop playing hide and go seek above you through the clouds.



All in all, it wasn't a terribly hard climb. But the last few thousand feet, the altitude starts to hit you and you begin to feel your heartbeat pounding throughout your entire body. It's amazing, I distinctly remember clinging to the side of the mountain, trying not to get blown off a cliff in virtual whiteout fog conditions, and the only things I could hear were my own breath and the pounding of my tired little heart. It was memorable.

When we finally reached the summit, we took a couple photos, ate a banana, and started realizing how underdressed we were.

The wind picked up and it didn't take long before we decided it was best to make a push to head back down. The decision was made even easier when the lightning, which had been casually striking the valley below us, started rising up towards the above-treeline summit. Yikes. Like I said, an easy decision, made easier by the hail (yes, hail), mother nature's final warning that maybe we overstayed our welcome.

Here's Lauren, before the lightning and hail kicked us off the mountain and reminded us living is way cooler than dying.



Back down at the base, where I experienced the worse hypo of my life. Took me 30 minutes just to get the feeling back in my hands. But worth it!




Lago Atitlán

Hippie sanctuary and all-around beautiful place. The allure of it is obvious. We stayed at a penthouse hotel overlooking the lake that cost 30 quetzales a night. In case you're wondering what that breaks down to, it's cheaper than a latte at starbucks. And that was for the both of us.

Many gringos come down to the lake to meditate, chill out, eat buddhist food, whatever, and don't ever leave. It's very tempting.











Well, for lack of time, that's how I'll have to leave it. But it goes without saying, I'll be back, and there will be more Guate photos in the years to come...


PC soccer team

Really good at posing. Not so good at scoring.



Couchsurfers

A couple weeks ago, a few acro-yoga teachers from San Francisco crashed at my place. So cool. They actually led an impromptu yoga class in my site and, probably the best part, they taught me how to do it (haven't dropped anyone yet!).





They were fun, and reminded me how much I used to love yoga. We'll see if the women who attended their class ask for a repeat.


Shampooooo with my women's committee

Last month, I made organic aloe shampoo with my women's committee and you won't believe it, people can't get enough of this shit. Even a few business owners in town are selling it in their stores. Who knew? The best part is it's actually good shampoo and crazy easy to make. Maybe next time I'm in the states we can do a little shampoo workshop. That way, Adam won't have any more excuses for going weeks without taking a shower.

Let's catch up. It's been a while - Part I

Man, it's tough to stay on top of things. In an effort to cover a ton of info as quickly as possible, I'm blitzing you guys with a two part series consisting of massive amounts of photos and little intellectual thought.

Why?

Well, for starters I'm a month behind on my blog and in that time a lot's gone down. A quick list: visited El Salvador's congress with my buddy Will, helped my community complete a $1,000 USAID rabbit project, organized a free eye care event, hitchhiked around Guatemala for a week, spent Thanksgiving on the beach with an embassy family, hosted about 100 guests and couchsurfers at my house, threw two christmas parties, made shampoo with my women's group, and harvested honey with my buddy Cowboy Carlos.

Add to that the fact that mom and Ellie arrive tomorrow (yikes!) and you can see why I'm rushing to get this stuff out. So here's your whirlwind tour of what's new in the neighborhood...


Rrrrrrrrrrabbbits

Awww, aren't they cute? Thanks to the nice people at USAID, I eat one every week. Fact.




Eye care event

Imagine that, we have smoke-damaged eyes and can't afford $20 subsidized glasses. Arg. Next step: fundraising to help people buy said glasses.




Mental note: despite what Muhammad Yunus says, micro lending does not always lead to a Nobel Peace Prize

Hey, what happens when a Salvadoran NGO gives farmers $10,000?

a) They form a solid, well-educated board of directors who meet regularly, delegate tasks, and quickly deal with problems when they arise.

b) They quickly mismanage funds, don't deal with the problem for two years, and hope that the banks don't notice they put their houses up as collateral.

I'll let you guess which one happened in my community. As this one deals with money, I'm totally keeping my distance. But training the new directive and improving the organization's reputation in the community is eating up a lot of my time. It's been a valuable experience, but one which I'll definitely draw from the next time I'm swept into a discussion on micro finance.

Here's Salva soberly explaining to the shareholders how if they don't come to meetings they'll never see their money again. Good times!




Thanksgiving at the beach

Every year, embassy families working in El Salvador extend their wings and take us fragile little peace corps birds into their adoptive nests to eat and drink like it's going out of style. As last year's turkey day was a bust, I was due. And this year, my buddy Will and I hit the jackpot.

We spent the week with probably the most open and generous embassy family imaginable. For security reasons, we can't use names. But suffice it to say, they were embassy bigwigs with stories you wouldn't believe. "You know who's an asshole? Kissinger. Man that guy used to get on my nerves..."

While our friends were in San Salvador networking their way to the top, listening to christian rock, and talking about the virtues of jesus (all true), Billy and I spent our days chilling in the pool, drinking chilled Sam Adams, and collecting shark teeth along the exposed shore at low tide.

Our host spent most of the day playing in the national golf tournament just down the road, but when he got home, we talked and enjoyed the good life. Our friend Charlotte showed up, and it was the definition of vacation.

Don't worry, mom. It didn't top turkey day in Maui. But it certainly came close.

On a lighter note...

I'd just like to start by saying I thought it was a good idea at the time...

Last week, for Día Nacional de Las Pupusas, my women's committee and I organized a pupusa eating competition. For those of you unfamiliar with pupusas, they are this country's gift to the world. Cheese, beans, squash, carrots. So many varieties. Salvos go nuts for them. And you would too, as they cost a quarter. And are delicious.

Word spread quickly and pretty soon we had eight competitors from our community, the pueblo, and even one from across the nearby guatemalan border. Some of these guys were pretty well-known, having competed in other events and eaten upwards of 35 tortillas, 2 pizzas, etc. It goes without saying I was nervous.

As with any competition, be it hot dogs, pizza, dunkin donuts munchkins, you feel like a star quarterback with all the confidence in the world, right up until you take the first bite. And then it hits you... what the eff have I done?

What do they call it? The fog of war? Yeah, it's true. Strategy? Tossed aside? Careful planning? A waste of time.

I took mine down with my favorite hot sauce, Pica Diablo. 66 cents of pure fire in the hole. For some reason I thought this was a good idea, to numb my face to the experience. To shock the mouth as well as the stomach. Bad idea. I ended up chugging milk and water, whatever I could get my hands on, just to kill the pain. Meanwhile my competitors munched away like cows, slowly showing the gringo how it's done.

But in the end, I represented and took down a solid stack of 15. Pretty respectable. The winner, however, by just a bite, polished off 19.

All in all, it was an incredible experience. We set out to throw a fun event that would unite the community and maybe give us something to talk about for a few days. But over 80 people came, and after a few hours, the women's committee raised $56. Combined with a few raffles, we're up to $70. This Tuesday we're meeting to discuss what to do with the cash. Save up and buy an oven? Plan weekly nutrition classes for the community? Who knows...

Here are a few pics from the event, which I'm pretty sure I blacked out during.



















Oh yeah, forgot to mention. To all the losers, I handed out rolls of toilet paper and peace corps issued pepto-bismol tabs. They loved it.

How YOU can help

It's starting to come up, so I thought I'd highlight the best option.

Aid El Salvador, the NGO our boss helped create five years ago, has set up a disaster relief fund to enable direct, quick donations to the affected families living around San Vicente. Please click on the link below and consider donating whatever you can.

<<< Aid El Salvador >>>

As soon as news of the disaster hit the international community, Aid El Salvador's board of directors held an emergency meeting to discuss how to connect interested parties with affected families in Verapaz and Guadalupe. They are working around the clock to ensure that donations reach affected families. Trust that your hard earned cash will reach salvadoran families in need.

In addition, Peace Corps staff has been out to the affected communities to distribute donations collected in San Salvador, assess damage done to host families, and check on friends and family. Many PCVs are frantically calling PC headquarters to request information on their training host families around San Vicente. Both Peace Corps and Aid El Salvador are working around the clock to ensure that families receive the bare essentials they need in the coming months and do not get left behind.

Donations can be received via Pay Pal from a link on the website
www.aidelsalvador.org. In the message section, please note "disaster relief".

You may also send checks to the CFO Pete Rennard at:

2688 Pala Mesa Court
Costa Mesa, CA 92627
Email: info@aidelsalvador.org
Phone: 714.809.7084
Fax: 949.515.4153

Thank you!

As if this country didn't have enough problems of its own...

Those last few photos were actually taken by Jimbo, as he walked through his neighboring villages and towns on the slopes of Volcán Chinchontepec. In the distance, you can see the muddy-colored scar where the volcano split apart and sent down torrents of minivan-sized boulders through the mountain communities below.

A lot of you have been asking about him. Thank you for that. He's doing okay, despite having the horrible luck of being in the epicenter of the Hurricane Ida shitshow. For his account of what happened, check out his blog.

<<< How do dogs know Spanish? >>>

Much love.

G

Oh shit

Just wanted to let you all know that I'm alive and well. Thanks for the emails. If I weren't broke, I'd be calling you all to check in.

<<< The New York Times >>>

Up in the northern region, we escaped most of the damage. But San Vicente (where we spent our first three months of training) and the central valleys around Jimbo's volcano got pretty fucked. He actually called me at 3 am during the storm and over a choppy connection was yelling for me to call PC to save his ass. Pretty freaky. They did end up evacuating him and as far as I know he's doing fine.

Don Callo

He refuses every time I offer it to him. Keeps telling me he prefers to use nails.

We leave my house and walk the short distance to his, down a graveled road, the color a dusty, pale orange the result of two weeks without rain.

We pass through an iron gate leading to his property, the hinges complaining as the door swings open, yet silent as it slowly returns and we walk away, apparently happy to be left alone.

As neighbors, we have spent many evenings together. Almost always over a smoky fire, sipping strong coffee brewed in a large clay pot. At the bottom, the saturated coffee grounds sit, listening, growing more and more bitter the more we talk. I always know when it is time to leave when I start tasting the coffee’s disapproval.

He leads me past the wash area, cluttered with plastic buckets of various colors, but never straying from even the most basic crayola rainbow. We duck under arcing banana leaves and arrive at what appears to be a muddy garden. Small banana trees, no higher than one’s knee, sit alongside their older siblings, patiently waiting their turn to reach the sun. An area has been cleared and work has already begun on the supports. Scraps of multi-colored wood, I imagine stripped from various sources, have been nailed together to form longer beams. Small patches in two eucalyptus trees have been shaved away, revealing inner layers, white like milk.

I begin double-checking the measurements for the project - the roof, the posts, the cross beams - and again broach the topic.

No, I prefer nails, he tells me.

I think about what he has said as I lift up the first beam and steady it on my shoulder. He places four nails in his mouth, raises his end of the beam and reaches for his hammer.

His blows with the hammer make a clean sound, a ping that hangs in the air for what seems like seconds, although I know it to be only a fraction of that. I notice his control is perfect; each blow landing dead center on the nail, with the satisfying ping resonance as a reward for his efforts. I begin to look forward to each one, and smile.

We lift the second beam and again he fills his mouth with nails. He smiles at me for a brief moment, a genuine smile, yet weakened with the strain of gripping the nails between his lips.

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. The last note reverberates out through the banana leaves, as the nail disappears into the soft, vanilla-colored wood.

He tugs on the beam, pulling down and outward to test its strength.

This is good, he says.

And it was.