The Surreal

This weekend I stepped into the surreal…

It’s been one month and two weeks, as write, since I began training here in San Vicente, El Salvador. Yet, until this past weekend I had not strayed too far from our training quarters, and only then in following scheduled training curriculum. Thus, I was unto this point spared the confusion of what I came to find on the shores of the department of La Libertad, in Playa El Tunco. Immediately breathtaking, this area of coastline is known for its stretches of black sanded beaches, imposing rock formations that pepper the shoreline, and the amazing surf.
On a regular day, I’m met regularly by Salvadorans in the village with used cloths, worn and tattered sandals or shoes, and either a machete strapped to the waist or a large and heavily laden bucket perched precariously, however deftly, upon the head. Once stepping onto the sand there was little of this to be seen, and one might feel as though they had traversed an alternate reality. Your classic surfer’s haven and tourist site, the beachfront is dominated by quant hostels and restaurants, surfboard and clothing stores, and of course bars and clubs. Quite the opposite of what I’ve become accustomed to. Imagine my surprise when, after being given a brief tour of the facilities of our hostel, I came upon a bathroom with porcelain toilet, sink with mirror, and shower! I certainly wasn’t expecting this.
Soon after situating our belongings in our rooms that evening we ventured out toward the coastline in eager anticipation of what lie in wait. Preceding the view, I was impressed by the warmth of air and slight breeze emanating from just beyond, producing the salty aroma one comes to expect with ocean beaches. Once there, with the sand at my toes, I could do little to contain the smile which had quickly and unconsciously spread across my face. I only noticed after a time just how much I was enjoying myself, being sure to take in my surroundings thoroughly. This is truly a beautiful country, one which demands owe and admiration to even the most experienced of travelers.
I was a bit disappointed the morning following when I found that the batteries for my camera had not charged properly before leaving the village. I dare say it was sacrilegious to have left without photos which might hint to the beauty to be found there. Perhaps this is as good a reason as any to be sure this first visit will not prove also to be the last. I did, however, enjoy myself thoroughly from early morning through the afternoon. Exerting my strength against that of the waves I found myself the loser, admitting defeat in the end; but not before having a time at attempting to surf the world famous breaks with a board rented and generously shared by a fellow volunteer.
I had planned to spend just a single night there before returning, and retrospectively was glad for having decided to do so. After just a short time away from my host family I began missing their food, their company, and felt guilty that I was able to travel and enjoy myself while they continued to toile with their regular day. Actually Peace Corps has a popular, (though unofficial I’m sure), term for this: site guilt. Though a bit silly if you really take the time to think about it, I was glad to find myself back with my host family that same evening, the trip being only an hour and a half by taxi. I would suggest, however, that anyone interested in travel here be sure to lend some time to the area. It would surely be time well spent.

A well needed break from the toils of learning a new language, I feel refresh and ready to start anew…

Immersed

I’ve just returned from an “immersion day” spanning three days, from Thursday through Saturday. In continuing our preparation for volunteer service this activity is intended to allow each trainee the chance to see what a site looks like and have the opportunity to rub shoulders with a current volunteer.

I was fortunate enough to have been assigned to the Department of Morazan, located in the Northeast of the country, high in the mountains which stand as the natural Honduran, Salvadoran boarder. Before arriving in country I had read a bit about the area during the war and was thus very excited to learn it would be my site visit. After hoping buses for roughly five hours I arrived at the assigned site, a relatively small village about two or three miles from the boarder. For the next two days I became the shadow of the humble volunteer who was generous enough to offer his time to take me around for the weekend and participate in his regular activities.

The area is amazing, much cooler than what I have gotten used to in training, as it is another two or three thousand feet higher in elevation. Surrounded by trees, predominately pine trees, the villager are employed almost exclusively by logging. As such, the area is dealing with the problems of deforestation. A lot of the volunteers work has been with efforts to increase awareness of the problems with deforestation and introducing alternate methods of income for families. The village is situated near a major tourist town although it’s well off the beaten path. Roughly twenty to thirty miles from the closest town, accessed by steep dirt roads, the village has been seeking national forestry protection for a considerable section of land in and around the community and preparing a campsite within as a tourist attraction for backpackers.

The volunteer that I was with for the weekend was great. Born and raised in Maine, it was likely no coincidence that he was place in this site. After living with a host family for the first eight months of service he began work on a log cabin. What’s more, he has taken the opportunity to use this cabin as a cheap model for what the community could put together for tourist facilities. Needless to say I was impressed and, as I’m sure one could guess, a bit excited and inspired to do the same. He was enduringly patient, having asked him questions which ran the gamut, and very informative, clearing up many curiosities and uncertainties. While at site I accompanied him to the local grade school to join in assisting the local health official in cleaning the heads of about fifteen kids of lice. We also had the opportunity to help out with physical examinations by recording the children’s weight, height, and conducting vision tests. The work was simple enough, though surprisingly fulfilling.

Overall the experience was completely unlike what I had expected, yet wonderful in its own right. The people of the community were disarmingly friendly and welcoming, the site was absolutely breathtaking and the volunteer very helpful in painting a picture of what to expect. The weekend had succeeded in making me all that more excited to finish with training and begin my volunteer service.

On Salvadoran Time

So what’s a day in the life like for a Peace Corps Trainee? I’ll try and give you a brief synopsis of my schedule for a normal day.

First of all, it starts early. My host family begins their day around anywhere from 4 to 5:30am. My mother and father are up at 4 and the other two men of the house, ages 19 and 27, get up soon after to go to the fields for work. The women of the house, raging in ages from 14-25, get up anywhere from 4:45-5:30 and begin basic house chores before getting ready to go to school or work.

I usually get up between 5:30-6 in the morning and walk roughly a sixteenth of a mile behind the house and through the sugar cane fields a small river where I take my morning baths. Once finished, I come back to the house, get a new change of clothes and prepare my things for the day’s classes. For example, Tuesdays we have classes in the center city and I will pack a backpack with the various things I’ll need there; while during the rest of the weekday classes are held at my house every morning from 8am-4:30 or 5pm, and I will simply bring the books, note cards and note books that I will use to the table set outside on our porch.

After having done this, I’ll sit down to a wonderfully prepared Salvadoran breakfast, usually consisting of some combination of scrambled eggs, beans, refried beans, torillas, pupusas, or fried platanos. The food here is absolutely delicious! I feel like I have a gourmet chef employed full time. These plates are invariably coupled with a refresco, or a freshly squeezed fruit drink which is usually spiced up with a little extra sugar added to the mix. The only real difficulty that I have experienced thus far with diet has been the high carb and fiber. I’m sure you can guess what that leads to…

On a typical day of class here at my house, we’ll begin with Spanish, lasting until the afternoon when we break for an hour and fifteen minutes for lunch. Following lunch we involve ourselves in various community project and development activities. Yesterday, for instance, we went to observe an English class being taught at our local village school with the intent of learning the cultural difference in teaching style, the structure for grade levels, class environment, etc. This will typically round out the day at quarter to 5pm.

After class, I will often hike a steep trail just behind my house with a couple of fellow trainees that live with me in the village, which usually takes about an hour. At six dark begins to fall, and dinner is typically served around 6:30pm. Dinner or the time there after is when I have the most time with my family and with whom I spend the bulk of it speaking Spanish. This is the period of the day when everything learned earlier in the day can be reviewed and practiced. I also tend to use this time before bed to complete any home work assigned, though I have also found considerable time to sit and study before class in the morning, usually finishing breakfast around quarter to 7am.

Bedtime is around 9pm, and though it is still quite warm in the evening hours, the temperature cools considerably as the night progresses, making a thin blanket all that is necessary for the night. Thus the days go by quickly, full of various lessons and activities.