planet earth

as some of you have heard, hurricane ida passed through el salvador this weekend. right now the death toll is around 130, mostly due to flooding and mudslides. rescue crews can't reach some towns because of damage to roads and bridges. to read more go here. the president has declared a national state of emergency. although more than 60 people were killed in san salvador alone, i haven't seen any kind of crisis mode within the city. the low, vulnerable part of the city is pretty far from me. yeah, it poured on saturday, and friday, and thursday, but i haven't seen any major damage. it's weird to be only reading about this online and seeing pictures when it happened so close. the clinic is fine - it didn't even rain there on saturday.

to put it in context of el salvador hurricane history, in 1998, hurricane mitch killed more than 10,000 people here. earthquakes have also been equally fatal, killing a little more than a thousand people in 2001. since i've been here i've felt a few little earthquakes - people say "está temblando," it's shaking. the first earthquake i felt was at 11 pm and i was home alone. suddenly everything in the room starting shaking. er-should i get under a doorway? maybe a table? should i unplug my computer? once i decided to just stand up the earthquake had stopped. it is unnerving though, because you don't know when it will stop. when i've felt earthquakes in public, people kind of freeze and look at each other seriously until it passes. even though people here are more used to little earthquakes than i am, they also know the serious danger which any earthquake could bring.

yesterday i went up to one of san salvador's volcanoes with my friend. it is called el boqueron, which translates mysteriously to "anchovy cured in a brine made partly of its own blood." it might more sensibly come from boca (mouth), as volcanoes are sort of the mouths of the earth, but actually are more like pimples if you think about it, am i right. on the road up to the mountain, there were in fact many little mudslides and a lot of debris from the hurricane. the last eruption of el boqueron was in 1917. it is all foresty and fresh and lush up by the crater. check out the crater. it is about a quarter mile deep. there were clouds forming in the bottom of the crater, and when the sun hit them, they rose up and engulfed us and evaporated. SUPER cool. i didn't bring my camera because my friend told me we were going to get coffee but instead we went to a volcano. MLIA.

sunshine on my shoulders

this week i got pupusas with dary (from that epic thunderstorm) and his brother henry. dary is out of work, he said something vague about being dismissed from his job at the church. sketch. henry is 17 and in 9th grade. he was sounding out words while reading the sports page. that is sad. dary and henry did a lot of chatting with people we ran into or who came around the pupuseria. they also kept looking around nervously ("for the police, we ran away one time because henry lied about his age"). henry showed me his blackberry (!!!?) which he said is "borrowed," which is suspicious, but it is full of pictures of their family, so i guess that is good. we also played the fun english-spanish game i like to call "translate this song in real time." i used to do this at the gym i went to in madrid. the uruguayan step aerobic teacher LOVED house music. we stood in the middle (for stereo balance) of the giant aerobics room listening and he looked at me earnestly as the singer yelled "i want to dance dance dance" and i replied in monotone "quiero bailar bailar bailar." likewise, henry held his blackberry up to my ear and i translated such classic as "every breath you take" or whatever that song is actually called. conversation didn't flow particularly smoothly, but at least in el salvador silence isn't awkward. even when you don't have a lot in common as far as background, there is always music, sports, and the universal language of sass. thankfully i am conversant in sass, and people love it when you sass their brother.

yesterday i met up with a big ol group of people from couchsurfing, which is a fabulous organization. of course, we went bowling. possibly the only bowling alley in all of el salvador, but it was quite authentic. i started off with two strikes, talking big about my jersey heritage, but my game suffered after we ate some weird pizza. i felt like i was in any old bowling alley in new jersey, except the bathrooms were impeccably clean. it was a lovely group which included a french canadian guy traveling from mexico to argentina, and an english guy traveling from argentina to mexico. criss cross! somehow i did not pay for this excursion - there is a custom of men paying for women when going out, even between friends and apparently also people you just met. i do not like this custom. it makes me uncomfortable. but it is rampant among the upper class. a veritable EPIDEMIC. it's not really a showy thing - when it's happened to me, i go to pay and i just don't owe anything. i think it is seen as more of an obligation for the men to make sure the women are having a good time. i do not like it.

later we went to some new bar/club where a band was playing "hey jude." there was free champagne for women (wednesday is ladies night in many places). the place was swank because there were umbrellas on the ceiling - you know they are trying. one french canadian woman who has been here for a few years noted that in el salvador, the number of people who have money to go out, even $5, is so small that by now she pretty much knows everyone in that scene. interesting to think about the divide between people who have money to go out for fun and, well, the rest of the country.

i found a store tucked into the bottom level of a shopping mall called "delights from the middle east" and i ate a wonderfully buttery date-filled cookie there today. i also had breakfast at the market in santa tecla - two big fried plantains and cheese pupusas and hot chocolate. super rico!!

drunk plantains

today i went to santa tecla, which has a giant indoor market and lots of stalls that spill out for blocks. after pushing my way off the bus, i saw a sign that said "$2 haircuts." yes! i had a lovely haircutting experience, talking with the three women working there since there were no other customers. they really liked my hair. i went in wearing my orange baseball cap. at the end of the haircut, the woman who cut my hair said rather scoldingly, are you going to put your hat back on? uh, no? i said. i think that was the right answer. she blow dried it very meticulously and put in some gelly substance called "silicone polisher" and i breezed away into the market.

the indoor market is a grimy, chaotic labyrinth. sorry, no pictures - too dark, and i was not brash enough to use a flash in people's faces. there are fruits, vegetables, fish with flies, meat, fabric, ribbons, little places to eat, belts, shoe repair, clothes, etc. it is like reading terminal market in philly, except denser, darker, larger, and without those pesky health codes. throughout the afternoon i ducked in and out, exploring different sections. shop owners yelled out "what are you looking for, princess?!" some dudes grabbed at my arms. good thing i covered my arms in acid. BURNED dudes.

i bought a pirated dvd of the last harry potter movie for $1. i wandered through the two giant parks, where many little stalls were also set up. here is a park.
one giant used clothing store was having some kind of event. i entered the store and there was a clown with a microphone - terrible. in the sale section of this store, i found exactly what i was looking for that i didn't even know i was looking for:

the salesguy was very amused that i was buying this, but was trying to keep a straight face. on the receipt, he listed the garment as simply "german." the tag says "flexitard" - a great word. obviously there is no size on the tag, it is one size fits none. it was $2. i am elated. please note that it has stirrups. amazing.

naturally, i partook of the food as well. i got some sugarized tamarind balls, which i think did irreparable damage to my teeth. a little cart was selling plantains that were grilled in the peel. oh YES. the lady shimmied the plantain out of its blackened peel and it was all soft and hot. then she did something i couldn't see and put a fork in it and handed it to me. it looked like it had spit all over it. although i was a bit put-off, i obviously tasted it. aha! it was beer, not spit. and it was delicious!

on the bus ride home, i sat next to a guy who i slowly learned was drunk. he turned to me and asked me if he could have my number. i said no. then he tried to give me his cell phone. no, it's yours, i said. no, he replied, it's yours. this happened six times. granted, the thought did cross my mind that my cell phone was very broken, and his was nicer than mine even. but no, that is rude. i think. he seemed quite genuine in the offer. then he tried to give me his sweatshirt. no no. the worst souvenir.

fireball

i have been going to the gym every weekday, enjoying classes in dance, spinning, and yoga. this has been great because it a) creates routine in the otherwise unstructured hours between 4ish and sleep, b) gives me a place to meet sweet 40 year old women and sketchy 50 year old men, and c) exercise.

both my cell phone and our hot water have been broken this week. inconvenient, certainly, but also quite useful to learn to do without. i am much more water-efficient with the cold showers.

i am embarking on a vague campaign to spend more money on good food because i love food and i have enough money. yesterday i saw some fresh bolognese sauce from a pasta store. it was $4.08 for an 8 oz jar but i made myself buy it. it was pretty flavorful but kind of watery. overall, i am trying to convince myself to use money to get things that i want.

we all know that i have mastered the skill of using a lighter. i am very proud. i have been fearful of lighting our actual gas oven, because hey, that's terrifying. well, i got me some tiny fingerling potatoes to roast, cut em up real cute, covered them in olive oil, the works. i opened the oven and lit it and a giant fireball exploded and singed my arm hairs and made a huge bang and made my heart stop. i sauteed the potatoes instead. they were crispy and adorable and the smell of burnt hair had mostly disappeared by the time they were done.

an alarming hat

they just won their soccer game 5-1, look how overjoyed they are

the lempa river starts in honduras
it is dry season now

swimmin in the sun

ooh am i invited?? (no)

mauricio eats a raw plantain, for some reason

una senora in her hammock

this weekend i went to the lower lempa, which is where the lempa river empties into the pacific ocean. i went there to make a small film about a community there called la canoa that partners with a dc-based org called voices on the border. the town is about 2 hours from san salvador by car but i went by bus and it took 5 buses and 1 pickup truck and 4 hours. not too bad. i wore an orange baseball cap but i am not accustomed to it. every time i closed my eyes for a long period on the bus and opened them again, i was startled by the hat's rim above my eyes. GAH what the hell is-oh it's my hat. the girl sitting next to me was even roused from her texting stupor to laugh at me the third time it happened.

while waiting for the last bus, i found a stall that sold riguas and delightedly purchased some that had just come off the grill. riguas are sweet fried corn strips, they taste like fried cornbread and you eat them with a soft wet cheese. they were very hot. abruptly the bus showed up and i got on with the hot greasy riguas in one hand and my bus fare in the other. this left no hands free for holding on, which i needed to do as there were no seats. a young man offered me a seat, i said oh no, thank you. a minute later the bus stopped very suddenly and i fell very completely into his lap. er sorry, i guess i did want your seat.

i met up with the voices on the border staff and we walked through la canoa, the tiny community, and i did some filming. the lempa river is at the edge of la canoa, and as the photos show, it is very dry right now. but very warm! mm. we stayed overnight at a guest house in a nearby community. most of the communities in this area have an interesting story. the people used to live in morazan, which is 6 hours north (by bus). morazan is where most of the fighting in the civil war took place, so they were displaced from their homes and lived in refugee camps in honduras for almost ten years. as they neared ten years, the war was still going on, but they said eff this, lets go back to el salvador, except they settled in lempa, where the land was more fertile. many of these communities are only 20 years old, but they are very well organized and do a great job of working with foreign NGOs and governments to improve their quality of life. you can read more about them at the voices on the border website (above).

there was a "super fiesta" with "lasser disco" on saturday night on the basketball court to benefit two community members who have cancer. it was like a middle school dance, but with constant strobe light and someone selling cabbage. the proportion of dancers to watchers was the same as middle school (1:15). we danced with great fervor. even at night it was terribly hot, everyone was damp with sweat. the strobe light is tricky - while it is on, everything you do looks cool, but when it goes off, there's a big disappointment. i prefer no strobe light, because then you have to work hard all the time, and that's what fun is about. after about an hour of dancing, the entire town lost power. pitch black. kind of eerie to know that you are in a dense crowd of people but you can't see the hand in front of your face. a pregnant moment, i think you might say. unfortunately darkness means danger so the dance quickly dispersed.

the next day, the group i was with prepared to return to san salvador. two guys had come down in a car, so we would get a ride back. alberto had driven his beloved 1977 volkswagen beetle, which was bright red and was made in brazil and only had one working door. he chatted about how the brakes were not working last week and he stuck his hand in the engine a few times before 4 of us squeezed into the backseat. i'm sorry you have to read this, poppy - it is the nadir of vehicle safety. the window of the broken door was not openable. alberto and freddy sat up front, and spent much of the ride singing together in sometimes doubtful harmony. a wooden rosary hung from the rearview mirror. as we jalopied through wide green plains and passed the humps of volcanoes in the little-red-car-that-could, i felt like i was watching a trailer for a movie that i would dismiss as trite. we stopped to get gas and also got ice cream and at that moment it was the best ice cream in the world, although it was actually my least favorite ice cream chain here (too many weird ice crystals). but so good right then.

chain chain chain

i finally caved and joined a gym near my house. the $40 punch card allows 20 visits over the next month. i like this because each visit has a fixed value, as opposed to unlimited monthly membership where i would feel pressure to go every day to decrease the price of each visit. i also can factor in the intangible values of "having somewhere to go at night" and "meeting people." the staff guy who gave me a tour swore that this gym was different in that guys wouldn't bother me or hit on me. aha! i didn't believe him. it took 5 minutes for some creepy balding dude wearing all white to plop down next to me and tell me that if i was a teacher he would be like a schoolboy. if i were a teacher i would expel you.
i went to a dance class at the gym. it was half middle aged, overweight women in black leggings and half skeptical high school seniors in soccer shorts. i was in the middle. we were led by a svelte, gangly man in swishy pants who had tiny hips and gray highlights in his curly hair. he brought us on a veritable world tour of dance styles. in my opinion, the other women won the merengue, salsa, and cha cha numbers and i won hip hop and trance because they looked confused and i looked really with-it. i think the svelte gangly man won belly dancing. he always wins because he knows what's coming. also, you can't see his sneakers because they are hidden by his swishy pants. everyone knows that it's impossible to make dancing in sneakers look cool. as far as overall score, i think i lose, because i think i pulled something in my back. maybe fewer shakira moves next time.
the weather is changing - we are now in the breezes of october. it is lovely - strong refreshing winds with the same old bright sun. gorgeous. this is kite season, and people sell kites on street corners. i keep my eyes almost completely closed going through these kite gauntlets because i fear i will lose an eye. people here are wearing winter coats for this weather, although at night it certainly hasn't been colder than 65. brrr.
i ran into dary (from the thunderstorm) in the park on sunday and we chatted and he told me which dudes in the park were gang members. thanks, friend! like many salvadorans, it stresses him out that i don't go to church. however, he and others are greatly relieved to hear that i was baptized. at least i did something right as an infant.
in more gang news, there were internet rumors spreading last week that the gangs were going to launch an "offensive" today and randomly attack people. on these speculations, universities were closed, people stayed home from work, businesses were closed. as far as i can tell, no violence has occurred. it doesn't seem like the gangs would actually be behind this - if they wanted a random attack, they wouldn't schedule it and leak it to the internet. it was a strange day and hopefully it doesn't signal to the gangs how much fear they instill.

happy saturday

Today when I woke up I realized I had nothing to do all day, and that wasn't a good feeling. Some hazy plans to go to someone's beach house had fallen through. It was too early to call anyone. I made lemon tea with a big scoop of honey to soothe my sore throat and started a book to wait out the morning hours. I perused my battalion of “what's happening in San Salvador” websites and found some kind of philosophy discussion group which was going to meet at 6:30 pm in my neighborhood. Some organization called “New Acropolis” was organizing it. It offered “100% practical philosophy” and “meeting new friends” and “answers to your deepest worries about humanity, life and the universe.” Excellent. I will be there. I've been here for two months. I need friends.

For the next few hours I contemplated going to a cafe to read my book for the sake of getting out of the house, but I could not get over the roadblock of not wanting to purchase anything at the cafe. I learned how to play “Wonderful Tonight” on the guitar. I sent a text message to a Belgian girl living in a nearby town who I got in touch with through Couch Surfing. No response. I made pupusas and doused them in paprika and splurged by cooking them in butter. Ooh crispy good. Finally the afternoon came and I called this guy Julio who makes jewelry and loves God who I had befriended on a previous cafe venture (I only walked in that time, did not buy anything). A woman answered when I called and said there was no Julio there. Oh. Ten minutes later my phone rang, the caller ID said Julio again. Aha! But no, this was some guy named Marco reiterating that there was no Julio. Thanks Marco, I appreciate your clarification.

I put on jeans and a festive, lightweight long sleeve shirt and left the house at 6:05, allotting possible time to get lost. It was almost completely dark, but there was lightning in the distance. It would rain soon, but the meeting lasted two hours so it'd be finished before I had to walk home. The streets were mostly empty already. A young woman with strangely gray hair sat outside a strip club on a metal chair with a box in her lap. As I passed, she smiled and said “adios, chica,” which felt warm and familiar, until I realized that she'd actually said “hay chicle,” or “gum for sale.” Oh. I'm not depressed. I'm a joyful person. I am just more alone than I want to be.

I waited to cross the road, which is two lanes in both directions. Kept waiting. Realizing, as usual, that I wasn't going to get a stretch of no cars in both directions. Taking advantage of a car stopping to take a left turn, I ran to the double yellow line, waited there while cars flew by on both sides, and finally found a second gap and ran across. Remember how my neighborhood in DC had a “walkscore” of 88 out of 100 – “very walkable?” I do. I give my neighborhood here a 12 out of 100 - “some pedestrians will perish.”

I found the address, delighted that there were many signs outside signifying that this was a real organization. Plenty of cars out front. I ring the bell. A tiny window opens in the door and a man's face appears, Wizard of Oz style. He looks surprised. Uh oh. I'm here for the philosophy discussion group, I tell him, already feeling apologetic. That was this morning at 10, he says neutrally. Oh, I say, the website said 6:30, I guess it was wrong. He replies, sometimes we have belly dancing classes. Come back on Monday. A woman comes up behind him, she is smiling, and gives me a little flyer which shows the schedule. They close the tiny window. Meh, so much for my single activity for the day. I'll stop at the supermarket, poke around a little while.

I spend too much time looking at the spices, memorizing their Spanish names, concentrating. I meander through the produce section which is mostly empty – it's dinner time on a Saturday. An older woman in a blue cardigan sweater set and large pearl earrings smiles at me warmly. Maybe she is filling time too. A group of four young guys are debating which case of beer to buy. I consider approaching them. “Oh hey, where's the party, dudes?” I do not. I stand in a checkout line behind the woman in the blue cardigan. I change my basket from hand to hand and she says oh, here you go, and moves up her groceries on the conveyor belt so there is space for mine.

When I step outside with my two plastic bags full of groceries, it is pouring rain horizontally. “Taxi!” a man calls out. I have never paid for a taxi in my life and will not start now. I will get wet. Almost immediately, I am completely wet. My festive long sleeve shirt is plastered to me. I wait to cross the street again. The cars do not care that it is pouring, I have to wait. I pass a big group of people huddled together under a bus shelter. Water is pouring off the tin roofs at weird angles above the skinny sidewalk. A young couple runs towards me, holding hands. I step off the sidewalk into the gutter stream to make room for them, the water in the gutter is up to my ankles. My grocery bags feel heavy, they are collecting water. At least this should rinse the spinach pretty well. Two guys watch me go by from inside a little store. “Niña!” one calls out. No, won't go in there. I want to go home, I'm shivering and disappointed.

There is an elevated crosswalk across the next four lane street. I walk up the metal steps slowly, they are very slick and the wind is strong and the rain is in my eyes. A billboard for Citibank sits on top of the crosswalk. Citibank will bridge the gap between your dreams and really achieving your dreams. As I walk, suspended above the traffic, the billboard lights go out. Then the streetlights go dark, then the building lights. The headlights still pass below. I pause, looking up at the lightning, more striking now in the complete dark. Then I keep going, down the stairs carefully, downhill. My eyes burn a little bit, my eyelids are working like windshield wipers in turbo mode. There's a big overhang at the mouth of my street, I stop underneath it to take a break. Cars have pulled over, put on their hazard lights on the main street. The rain still reaches me, but not as hard. My jeans are heavy with water, sitting uncomfortably low on my hips. How long will I wait here, it's not going to let up soon. Another moment of inertia. Water rushes downhill in thick chunks. God damn I thought rainy season was over. I start sneezing.

The streetlights flicker and come back on. Three young guys are coming down the hill from far off, one of them has a soccer ball. They're laughing, splashing in puddles, teenagers maybe. I watch them come down the hill, they come closer, they smile at me. One reaches out a hand, but I stay where I am and they leave. Then I follow after them. The one who had reached out his hand soon sees that I'm following. He waits for me, and reaches out his hand again, asking if he can carry my grocery bags. Yes. Thank you. The four of us walk in the street, the sidewalk is underwater. Their soccer game was rained out, obviously. They live in the poor community adjacent to my house, it's considered “dangerous” and “unsightly,” it's why my rent is cheap. I'm friendly with some of the store owners there, they are funny and unhurried and amused by my weird requests and my ability to carry a propane container by myself. The guy carrying my groceries is named Dari, he is 22 like I am. He dropped out of school, now he has a job at a church. It's hard to hear because of the wind and the rain pelting the tin roofs. Some people think Salvadoreans are abusivos, or disrespectful, he says. No, I tell him, I've met very kind people here. The rain feels like someone wearing gloves full of needles slapping me in the face. Then Dari says he likes my eyes. Oh well, I'll let him say that. The lightning is closer, the thunder shakes the ground. They deliver me to my house, he hands me my groceries. Come find us to hang out, just ask at the store, they tell me. I tell them to let me know if there are any activities, er, whatever is going on. I thank them profusely and they go back into the rain, still smiling.

I peel off my wet clothes and wring them out and get into the shower, which feels so warm. For most of the shower I am sneezing. Dry dry leggings hoodie zipped up even socks, tropical blasphemy! Maybe tomorrow I will show up early and beast them at soccer.