Tri-State Trek - Day 1

Team America rides again


So it's official. The 2010 Tri-State Trek is happening. After nearly a year of preparation, and an untold number of winter and spring months spent planning, training and, let's be honest, worrying about the ride, it's already a third over. Pretty amazing.

As usual, we rode out of Boston at the asscrack of dawn, filling the streets for a brief moment as 200 riders enjoyed carte blanche to take over the streets while local cops waved us through intersections and 6 AM commuters forced grumpy smiles and the occasional cheer.


On our first day, we spend most of the time making our way down to Connecticut, passing through local towns, vaguely familiar from past AIDS and ALS rides.

One of my favorite spots is Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg (also known as Webster Lake) which, I am told, basically means "you fish on your side, I'll fish on my side, and no one fishes in the center." It's been said that this is bogus, but it's just crazy enough to be true.


At the rest stops, ALS TDI spared no expense and, in addition to mounds of Clif Bars, bananas, cookies, fresh fruit, and of course gallon upon gallon of Gatorade, extremely friendly medical staff like Heather here, doled out neck and back massages if you knew how to ask nicely. Chuck knew how to ask nicely.




Sidenote: with the steady rain in the afternoon, it wasn't 15 minutes before we were soaked and chilled to the bone. And when I got in to UConn (after screwing up and missing the final rest stop) with signs of minor hypo, the girls at the med tent got kind of excited to practice their emergency medicine and hopped into action. I'd say they got a little carried away with the space blanket and tape...


Later on that night, everyone converges on the beer tent, where we circled up and drew in whoever wasn't involved in flip cup. Sidenote: big thank you to ride sponsor, Sam Adams, and to that underage student bartender who kept 'em coming.






Then it was off to the hotel bar, where we hung out with the man, the legend, Mat Mendel, the ride organizer.


A nice way to end the night.


I was pretty stoked to catch up with some old friends I met four years ago on my first ride, especially my buddy John who was celebrating his 65th birthday that night. John's quite the character and is a figure of the ride, famous for mailing himself gourmet french wine and cheese to the event to have after dinner. He passed on his usual array of wisdom. One in particular, stuck in my mind:

Yesterday's history. Tomorrow's a mystery. Today is a gift, and that's why we call it the present.

Words to live by.

One day down, two to go!

Chuck and Dana tie the knot

On a cloudless, picture-perfect day in July, a small group of family and friends gathered together at Harkness State Park on the Connecticut coastline to celebrate the union of Charles McNamee and Dana Crosby.


It was kind of awesome. An opportunity to see all my good buddies in one place, friends I hadn't seen in years. I guess that's the point of a wedding, really. To bring people together. A cheesy thing to say? Obvious? I dunno. By now, I've been to a bunch of weddings and this one had that nice balance of moods, sort of like casual formality.


I, as an usher, did my part. Flew home, bought my suit, and delivered my package. One bride's maid. Yay!


Later on, the band started up, the bar opened and the real party began.


Our sacrificial lamb, meticulously adorned with fresh flowers and ready to be cut into pieces to appease the sun god, the god of miniature sailboats and of course, Shiva. You always gotta look after Shiva.


The party lasted until the wee hours. Oh Bridie and Mearns, you kids are so crazy.


One hell of a weekend.

Fundraiser at Doyle's

As you may know, I am back from El Salvador for the entire month of July. So far, it's been an amazing week, but time is quickly flying by.

A number of people have been asking how they can learn more about or donate towards my health projects in my community in El Salvador. So to provide an opportunity for people to donate/ask questions, and to see all my friends and family, we've organized a get-together at Doyle's in Jamaica Plain and you're invited!

It will be a casual night of food and drinks starting at 6:30 pm. We have the entire back room reserved and I'd love to fill it up with my friends, family, and anyone interested in the Peace Corps. There will be food, drinks and a short presentation about my Peace Corps experience in El Salvador.

What: A fun night to reconnect with old friends, celebrate El Salvador and the Peace Corps, and raise money for children's scholarships.
Where: Doyle's Cafe in Jamaica Plain (Directions)
When: Friday the 16th, 6:30 pm - 9:00 pm

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me. Hope to see you there!

Hasta pronto,

G

ps. And if you're unable to make it, please consider donating towards children's scholarships in my community through Aid El Salvador, the organization which will be managing the funds. Aid El Salvador's webpage.

Please make sure to mention "El Carmen, Metapan."

Any amount will help and 100% of your donation goes towards children's scholarships. When donating, please consider that it costs as little as $50 a year for a high school student to study in the nearby pueblo.

America

Behold Friendly's new grilled cheese burgermelt. A cheeseburger with all the trimmings, wedged between two grilled cheese sandwiches. As Stephen Colbert recently put it: "It's like your lunch, and two other people's lunches are having a three-way in your mouth."

Yep, that's America. Only here could such a creation exist.

So I'm back for the month. And it feels good. Despite the initial culture shock, readjustment hasn't been so bad. And those first few days of seeing family and reconnecting with friends was exactly what I needed.

We held a July 4th beach bbq, my first in three years, followed by a pretty kickass bonfire overlooking the city skyline. Sailboats crossed back and forth in the bay and from where we were camped out, we had an amazing horizon to horizon view of Boston's as well as six other towns' fireworks displays. It's a beautiful spot. Just off the right edge of the photo below sits Boston Light, the nation's oldest lighthouse. Couldn't have been nicer.


Jamie and Ben also brought Addie, and she did what she does best: run around, zipping and buzzing between everyone like a little honey bee collecting pollen. Here's a photo of the little stinker.


And the bonfire. When it died down, smores and keg beer were thoroughly enjoyed.


Late in the afternoon, we were visited by an eccentric neighbor of Chuck and Dana's who had clearly been awake celebrating the birth of our nation while all of us had been sleeping, eating breakfast, whatever.

I'd just like to say, just because I never actually saw him refilling his cup from a small duffel bag tucked away behind some rocks, doesn't mean it didn't happen... 15 times. Nor did I actually see him take out a small, copper-colored cannon and balance it precariously on a beach rock.

But I definitely saw it, and felt it, go off. As did his dog, who freaked out and pissed all over Kate in fear when it thought it was caught in the middle of a revolutionary war reenactment...

Fire! Keep your eyes on the doggie...

For the record, that's someone asking: "What about, uh, do you want us to move the dog back?"

"No, he's fine" he said dismissively. "Ready...? Fire!"

Man, I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time.

Or seen as vivid a sunset...

Closing a chapter

A few weeks ago, Jimbo finished up the reconstruction project he and his community members had been working on for the past six months up on Chinchontepec. An inauguration party was planned. One of our bosses was driving up. This was a no-brainer. I damn near demanded a seat in that car.

Jimbo was definitely surprised. The look on his face was hilarious. Confused, stunned, embarrassed. A few more guys had actually hopped in, mainly good buddies of his, sort of as last-minute gate crashers coming to show our support not only for Jim, but for the families devastated by last November's landslides; our host families during training who went out of their way to make our first few months in their country as comfortable as possible.

The last time I was up there, I was with Adam. It was August of last year, and Adam had stayed an extra day or two before heading back to the states. We'd already been around the country and back - my community, the mountains, the beach - so we decided to head up to Jimbo's for the night, chill out on the side of a volcano, and play a little guitar. I was feeling pretty apprehensive about what it would be like this time.

It takes about 30 minutes to four-wheel your way up to Santiago de Chile. I'd done it a bunch over the course of the past year. Usually crammed in a bus, jamming to 80's music remixes. I've often wondered how many buses are playing Lady in Red throughout this tiny country at the same time. It's gotta be in the thousands.

It will be no surprise to you that this time it was an all-together different experience. All along the ride up, Jimbo was pointing out sections of the road that had simply collapsed; areas where the natural lay of the land had funneled the water, mud and rocks into a chute where the mass continued to pick up speed until it poured out on top of the communities below. Craters lined the edge of road where the earth just couldn't hold on anymore and gave way.



When we pulled into Jimbo's community, it was like a long-lost family member was returning from ten years at sea. There was an energy in the air you could feel. Everyone was yelling Yim-boooo! And people were even saying hi to me. I was touched they even remembered me, let alone my name.

At his house, it was great to see familiar faces, standing there smiling in front of mud-stained walls and piles of bricks and trash where buildings used to be.

Actually, we were out back eating oranges off the trees when Jimbo pulled out an old running shoe of his from under a mud pile. Six months after the landslide, they're still uncovering objects buried in the mud.


After chit chat time ended with the family, we headed to the fiesta.

From the relief money he raised back home in Michigan in the weeks after the landslides, Jimbo and his ADESCO set aside some funds for a celebratory party commemorating the hard work rebuilding what they had lost and improving the infrastructure to assure it would never happen again.


I guess word got out, because a ton of people showed up. The vibe in the community was incredible.


The event was a typical Salvadoran affair. A thousand plastic chairs, everyone freshly showered with shiny, slicked-back hair (girls) and faux-hawks (boys), a giant mesa de honor with a veritable who's who of Santiago de Chile up on stage. And yes, food. No one could ignore the smoke wafting in from the grills out back, carrying the promise of a free lunch and ensuring good behavior from all the kids.

The event started off like you'd expect. The MC introduced each member of the table, giving each their proper respect and 15 minutes of fame at the podium. The department's congresswoman spoke, the governor, prominent community members, and finally Jimbo.

I realize I'm his best bud, so I'm probably not the most objective person on Jimbo. But in all honesty, he gave a hell of a speech. Seriously, a hell of a speech. After speaking about the bonds between his friends and family back home and the people of the community, he ended it by saying: "My name is James Leddy. I was born in Canton, Michigan. But I am from Santiago de Chile."

It was incredibly powerful.



Here's Miguel taking the opportunity to toast his good friend.





After all was said and done, the local priest led a group up to the start of the landslides, and to a bridge which Jimbo's fundraising helped rebuild. We sang and he blessed the bridge with holy water. It was a nice moment.







I think it was important for me to see Jimbo's community one last time. To be apart of his former life even for just a few hours. I'd spent a decent amount of time up on the side of that volcano and it meant a lot to me to see those familiar faces, even if it was just to reassure myself that they were still there.

Nervous energy...

I can't wait. Only a few days from now I'll once again be standing on Red Sox nation soil. Pretty exciting.

I was trying to explain this to Amy yesterday, how I haven't been able to shake this swirly mix of anxiety and nervous energy. I guess it's no surprise that it's been pretty damn tough to balance my life down here for the past month - community projects, organizing trainings and volunteer workshops all over the country - with the details and plans for the upcoming month up north - passport/Guatemalan visa bullshit, Fourth of July, Chuck's wedding weekend in Connecticut, the Doyle's fundraiser on the 16th, training for the ALS ride the 23rd to the 25th, and trying to spend quality time with everyone near and dear to me without overbooking or giving them a half-ass experience. My biggest fear.

Unfortunately, with every email home and every conversation about tentative plans to do this or that, I feel the cumulative weight of life's pressures increase by one pebble, and then another, until I realize I'm carrying a 150 lb. sack across my shoulders, slowing me to a snail's pace from exhaustion. Ben's been helping a ton, organizing things back home and acting as my social coordinator for the first couple days. Exactly what I needed, without even having to ask for it. So, if you're reading this, Mr. Bean... thanks. Seriously. And Kate has been sweet about checking in on me, mentally. (No, but are you really okay?) Thanks chica.

I'm sure once I touch down at Logan, put my bags into the trunk of Ben and Jamie's car, and eventually relax on their couch alongside Addie, I'll feel like a million bucks. Or maybe I should just get used to living in two simultaneous worlds, two lives which will never overlap, as much as I try.

Speaking of Addie, Ellie recently sent out some photos she took on Castle Island. I couldn't resist posting a few...







Grab a dictionary and look up the definition of "adorable" and you'll see this little one staring up at you.

Man that stings

Well, Boston mourns again. The Celtics arguably had their 18th title in the bag, but before we had a chance to do anything about it, it slipped away from us. Arg.

I caught the game in my community, sick of organizing afterdark transport into my nearby pueblo only to watch the game, most likely be disappointed, and then fall asleep watching The Devil Wears Prada on HBO at my counterpart Salvador's house. Trust me, it's not a consolation.

And yes, I did say I watched the final game in my community. My buddy Carlos recently got a satellite dish. Amazing how two-thirds of the community drinks river water, half don't have constant electricity or latrines, yet if families have 12 bucks a month, they're watching street luge on ESPN2 and wondering who actually likes street luge? like the rest of us up north. Something's wrong there.

Anyway, watching the series and emailing back and forth with Adam and Dad was great. Not to mention the experience of watching the games with my Salvadoran friends, most of whom have never actually watched a full game. (Basketball down here is like soccer up there. Have you ever actually watched a soccer game from start to finish? Exactly.)

To Salvadorans, basketball is a mess of complicated, arbitrary rules and physical movements they could only dream of duplicating. I especially liked trying to explain the shot clock to a kid in my community (You mean if they don't shoot, they get in trouble? Yes, yes that's right), as well as all the other rules the league's introduced over the years to keep us ADD shoe-buying consumers interested in those guys running back and forth chasing the bouncy ball (five seconds to inbound the ball, eight to get it across halfcourt, 24 to shoot, three-second defensive penalties, three-second offensive penalties...). It really is ridiculous when you think about it.

And then there's soccer. Pure, simple, corrupt soccer, where a referee usually does more harm than good and you can count the number of rules on both hands. Ah soccer. Essentially confined anarchy separated by sporadic moments of law and order. Over my two years here, I've really come to respect and love it. Never thought I would.

Basketball also requires a whole different mentality, I've realized. I mean, what other sport in the world can you watch the first and last quarters and pretty much say you saw the game? In soccer, if you blink, there's a pretty damn good chance that's gonna be the moment either team scores the goal of the game.

Ah well. As losers are oft heard saying: wait until next year... or at least until October. Go sox.

Rajon Rondo, Paul Pierce Realize They're Wearing Same Headband

Man, I love the onion.

So the Celts kicked ass last night, continuing to demonstrate that championship basketball is about teamwork and ball movement and not ball-hogging superstars, even though I'll be the first to admit that Kobe's hands down the best player on the court. What he's doing out there is insane. I think he could literally hit half-court fadeaways for a whole quarter if he wanted to (all the while ignoring his four other teammates wide-open underneath the basket).

In addition, I'd like to officially award my coveted Golden Jock Strap Award for heart and hustle to Rajon Rondo, who proved he's not afraid to poke an angry bear, shoving Ron Artest after a hard foul on Garnett in the 2nd quarter. Reminded me of Varitek offering a mitt sandwich to A-Rod in 2004 to turn the season around for the Red Sox.


Mmmm, delicious.

Jock Strap runners-up were, in no particular order:

- Glen "Droolio" Davis
- Tony "Did you see that block on Gasol?!!!" Allen, (video), and
- Kendrick "Don't ever let me go coast to coast" Perkins

Here's a good article on Rondo's impact on the momentum of the game and Artest's recent struggle with the game of basketball.

Also, if you haven't seen the excerpts from Nate Robinson's and Big Baby's Game 4 post-game interview, it's worth a look. Fingers crossed for Tuesday's game...

Dengue, it's all the rage

Something I didn't want to formally announce until it was officially ancient history was my health, which is good (relax!). But a few weeks ago, it definitely wasn't.

For those who haven't heard, I was fortunate enough to pick up a minor case of... drumroll please... dengue! Yep, dengue. And I say minor because it never developed beyond a bad fever, nausea, and some achiness. One morning I woke up and my eyes kind of hurt, but my platelets never dropped low enough to scare PC Med and it was nothing a few nights in the capital recovering couldn't fix, which in the end worked out well since I was able to watch the Celts smoke the Magic.

Now a group of us is getting ready to watch the Celts take down LA in Game 1 at the Country Director's house. Oh yeah, flat screen tv!

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.

It's Always Sunny In El Salvador

Way behind on my blogging so this is merely a place holder entry. An ugly little stain on my blog that'll motivate me to post something intellectual/fun/interesting later this week.

The quick rundown...

Sam, got your package. Incredible.

Chuck and Dana, thank you so much. Because of the size, your package was processed through more rigorous customs and held in the department capital. Literally took me more than a month to bail it out of mail jail.

Roof. Putting one on our school. Hard work.

Community soccer tournament. Every Sunday for two months. Headache.

Women's group gardens. Seeds planted. Yippee.

That's the news from Lake Wobegon. I'll clean this up and post more later this week.

Hope all's well.

Guns N' Fuckin' Roses

My eyes hurt. My throat's killing me. I still can't hear a damn thing. And I'm pretty sure at some point I got punched in the face. But it was worth it. Because last night I got to see my childhood idols (seriously... sadly...) live in concert.


It was unbelievable. Fireworks, covers of Bowie and Floyd. So cool. Definitely the best concert I've been to. Or maybe at least the most anticipated.


It was pretty amazing. In the lead-up to the concert, the country pretty much shifted into some sort of GNR mania. Every day there were articles in the paper about the upcoming show. I mean, it was like the entire country was asking itself: Was this a mistake? Some sort of clerical error that the "little thumb" of central america is benefiting from? We almost didn't care, we were so psyched to finally get a real band. Especially after Metallica blew off El Salvador for Guatemala City when their tour passed through the region last month.

And say what you will about Slash not being there or Axl going off the deep end, but I gotta be honest, that crazy, old tattoed freak's still got it. Brought the house down. Plus, with his cowboy hat and 48 year old gut (yes 48, can you believe that?), he couldn't have looked more salvadoran. Just like one of us. The crowd loved it.