9/19- More than my Spanish (sorry for the double whammy)

Back again, I knew a refreshing weekend would do me so much good. This morning I wasn’t quite sure though.

I woke up fifteen minutes before my alarm with a killer stomach ache and wondered if Id make it to praxis. Intestinal health is a regular topic of conversation here, much more information than is kosher to share at home is normal here. Tums and pepto are in high demand and stool sample cups are always readily available. We are cooked for and careful but us North Americans have the weakest stomachs alive, so you never know what’s going to happen. As soon as something feels a little off some part of you worries if you’ll make it through the day or be bed ridden for four days before you decide to take a sample.

I made it to praxis fine but sat in Cabalitto Blanco pretty tired and disengaged, not sure I was ready to dive back into this wonderful little world.

But just like when the hiking got too hard and the waterfalls were there to remind us how worth it the hiking was… I had the most wonderful day at Praxis today.

I don’t exactly know what it is, partly I’m getting more comfortable in my own skin there. I used to be so worried about my Spanish not being good enough and the spiral that is my mind would then lead to thinking they thought I didn’t care and not being able to be present and in the end just being in another world more often than not. Slowly my Spanish has improved but more importantly I trust myself to be more than my Spanish.  I find ways to communicate, I laugh, I feel comfortable with the Cedro family, and being present gets easier and easier.

I spontaneously was asked to give a Computer class for one 14 year old girl this morning. Her desire to learn was so refreshing “I want to learn how to type like you do, more English if you have time”. She was so sweet and excited and the one on one time with her was really enjoyable. Then we had a birthday party for Clarita, my lovely 5’2’’ Praxis partner who is one of the most alive humans I have ever known. She is really real and laughs and loves and spreads light like none other. The kids sang and one by one gave her a card and un abrazo, we all teared up at how much love we are receiving from this place we only hope we mean something too. We gave the kids messy and delicious cake we made last night and had a piñata. So so fun.

After our lunch (where Claire and I discreetly passed the bowl of soup with an intact chicken foot a few places over) we lolly gagged for a while as normal. Sor works her butt off and sometimes whatever she needs to do, or just chatting is more important than whatever is on the schedule. I played with Christopher, the two year old love of my life who has already stolen my heart and is guaranteed to break it when I drive away in three months. He has the most beautiful big brown eyes and is just the cutest little thing Ive ever seen. His Grandma works at the Comedor so he hangs out with us in the afternoons when none of the other kids are there. At first he’d barely look at us. Now he sits at the table and converses, whines, loves and makes us laugh so dang much.

We finally left for our home visit and little Chris of course wanted to come along and of course had no interest in the walking involved. I propped him up on my shoulder and we laughed so hard the whole walk as his little face popped right in front of my eyes and then giggled uncontrollably when I screamed. Its usually easy to make a two year old laugh but when a two year old is the cause of your gut splitting laughter you know something is right in the world. I have this image of us in my mind that I will never forget.. I love that little man.

As we walked towards the house of Dorothea we were briefed on the extreme amounts of pain she has encountered. Home visits are a little bit of a confusing subject for us. We all know they have experienced hard stuff, we want to ask but we don’t know if we should, small talk is painful, but we haven’t quite found the in between. Today’s was fantastic. Although we questioned it all afterwards in the midst of it it felt like we were just a group of humans conversing about pain, love and hope. Dorothea is the mother of 5, Grandmother of at least 5. She lost her husband 20 years ago, someone killed him and we will never know why, maybe they know or maybe they don’t. Her thirty year old son Manual has some sort of special needs, exactly what it is no one knows, diagnosis is expensive and specialty doctors are hard to come by in the rural canton. Three years ago her daughter was also killed, today we met the children of this daughter, 7 and 9 years old and one who’s 18 at work doing construction. Their dad is in prison for 30 years, again we will never quite know why.  Tears fell from her eyes as she explained the pain of loosing her daughter, the memories her grand children have and the struggle of poverty. She can only find one day a week of work, Sor later tells us she receives scholarships for her Grandchildren. Her youngest daughters, 20 and probably 17ish sit with their babies nursing. Dorothea speaks from her heart, she loves this family, she knows pain too well and she tries every day to find hope in the face of the month old baby and of Joanna who has lost both of her parents and whatever she can find. We listen intently, ask questions when we feel its appropriate, try to show empathy, respect and admiration. We thank them endlessly, we are here to learn, thank you for sharing. We hug them all, I tell the kids to keep up their amazing attitudes, you can do whatever you want in this life, then you can change life’s. They hear what Im saying, but I wonder how much it resonates with them. I just want to hear how loosing their mom to violence and dad to prison feels, I want to love them with all I have.

We walk away, I squeeze Clara’s hand and the reality that is this place permeates inside me while Christopher sits atop my shoulders giggling away.

Claire, Annie and I sit in the back of the pick up truck on the dirt road on the way home. We talk about deserving peoples stories, or maybe not needing to. Is sharing healing? Is deserving peoples stories an American construct? Or does my head just want to believe that to rationalize it? How do you enter someone’s home and ask the right questions, show empathy, equality and interest without pushing too hard? We talk about all sorts of good life stuff, differences, challenges, so many things. And as we drive away I feel my heart attaching to that little town, full of natural beauty that holds the lives of people struggling in a little cocoon. Oh how I hope my time with them is meaningful on both sides. Oh how I hope this experience influences how I spend the rest of my life.

9/18- Las Cascadas

Oh what a weekend

In Susan’s email she asked me if its still fun or if its overwhelming. It is overwhelming but it is still a BLAST.. the big, hard, sometimes heavy moments come easier onto paper but there are soooo many moments of laughter and joy with this group of people, with the kids in my site and laughing with Sor about relationships and all sorts of silliness.

But yes, as you can tell from my writing this is not the typical study abroad program. Im not living the life I would at home, Im not going out at night or traveling much and Im seeing a lot of poverty and pain. And I am LOVING it.

Still, taking a weekend to relax is a beautiful thing.

We had the most fantastic weekend. We left Saturday morning bright and early already laughing headed to Juyua (why oooo a) to explore the waterfalls. Nate planned it and 5 of us girls just went along with his plan. We took a two hour bus ride on kinda packed busses through beautiful curvy roads surrounded by forests, fincas and mountains and arrived in the little town. We walked through the market where we could have bought anything from raw chicken to fake rolex to silly stuffed animals. We got to our hostel and walked into a beautiful, little, peaceful oasis with such friendly people.  Ten minutes later we were on our way with a guide and a lunch the lady at the hotel packed us to explore the 7 waterfalls.

It was SUCH an adventure. I really wish we would have had a videographer with us so I could just show you all because it was absolutely REDICULOUS. This was no trail hike in a National Park in the States where the Forest Service keeps everything well kept. We trekked through mud, jungle, rivers and all sorts of craziness. We bush wacked trees and plants out of our way and when necessary our amazing guide (Douglas) pulled out the trusty machete to get things out of our way. We slipped and fell and laughed so much. We climbed over rocks, tried our hardest not to slide down steep hills and keep up on the uphill’s and could only hope that our Chacos would do us good.

Just when we were getting a little tired of all the crazy hiking, (something that I cannot even put into words it was so ridiculous. Imagine George of the Jungle mixed with that crazy guy on TV who does crazy stuff in the wilderness. There were no trails, tons of plants and trees and every kind of terrain you could imagine.) I turned to Emily and said “ok Im ready to be there” around the corner and over a few rocks and there we were in front of the first of 7 beautiful, huge waterfalls. We stopped to take pictures, rinsed the fire ants off our feet in the water and took in the view and continued. We eventually had to repel down one of them on a rope tied to a tree with the guide helping us all the way down. Sounds super sketchy, probably kinda was but I felt completely safe the whole time and if we really wanted to we probably could have sat down and slid down the rocks on our butts. The scenery continued to take my breathe away and after every hard feat we were reminded how worth it the journey was “vaya la pena” as we say in Spanish.  We saw water fall after water fall and continued our falling. Finally we got to the biggest one and got to sit and eat lunch. Our guide cut up the vegetables and we ate the most simple yet most delicious veggie sandwiches I have ever had in my life. My black shorts were brown, my legs covered in mud and sweat was dripping off my face. We were exhausted and the sandwiches were exactly what we needed. We spent a little time in the water and took some pictures and we continued. We made our way through the river to two more and then starting heading up a huge heel. Our legs kinda felt like they were gonna give at any second and we were exhausted, but just like the first time every time we were tired of it we saw another beautiful site. Lastly we went to some man made water falls and swam through a tiny tunnel where you could barely see anything. After another long walk up hill we finally got back to town and to our hostel with hot water. I know most of you take hot showers every day and that feeling of your whole body being warm and clean is normal but for us it is a TOTAL luxery and after an exhausting, dirty day it was about the best thing I could imagine.

The day was perfect and exactly what we needed. Challenge, exhilarating, beautiful and adrenaline rush after adrenaline rush. It was so peaceful just to be in nature. Something that for as long as I remember has been a place of happiness, peace and solace for me. A place where I feel so alive and like nothing else in the world matters. We talked about how for the past month we are so often blow away by pain, or the juxstaposition of beauty within this pain. But this weekend every time we felt or said “Wow” it was because of pure beauty. Something we are so privileged to be able to experience and was such a breather for our hearts and brains. Part of me wished I could bring all of the people from my site to these waterfalls, let them forget, relax and just enjoy the beauty that is nature. It felt so good to conquer challenge after to challenge, to be physically exhausted but mentally and emotionally completely relaxed and at peace. We laughed all day at people falling, when I almost ripped my arm out of its socket and when Lindsey hung on a stick by her shorts. Everyone overcame fears, everyone was tired, but everyone had a total blast. And it was so so beautiful (lotsa pictures to come soon on facebook). I so wish I could explain because it was absolutely ridiculous and  SUCH an adventure. I loved every minute of it and feel so refreshed coming back home. It was exactly what I needed and for the first time in a while I felt so in my element. I felt completely able and comfortable, I felt like I could do anything I put mind to even if it was painful and scary and hilarious all at the same time.

It was just a really great mental break and such a beautiful place to spend the day in. It was nice to get out of our bubble and see another side of El Salvador.

We went back to our awesome hostel, took hot showers and went out to this little hipster café we found. Juyua has this funny little colony of hipster Salvadorans  They must have been of Spanish decent because for the first time in a month we didn’t stick out as total Gringos but still their accents were completely Salvadoran. We ate hamburgers and paid the most we have for a meal yet but we totally enjoyed ourselves. We totally took a little vacation and it was absolutely wonderful.

We came back Sunday to a house of people ready to share stories, eat Papusas, refreshed yet exhausted and ready to continue on this amazing journey. Diving in, learning and reflecting every moment, running like crazy and always staying up a little later than planned is great, but makes a break even better. Now Im ready to dive in even deeper, to soak up the moments, to look and listen hard and to take in all the juxstaposition, life, struggle and beauty this world has to offer me.

praxis weekend, thinking, reflecting and a weekend to relax!

Lots is happening in this little land of learning and growing and love. Its hard for me to find the right words to put it all on this blank page of paper staring back at me.

I left for Praxis weekend on Friday feeling emotionally and physically exhausted and missing home. I walked down the steps surrounded by beautiful plants and trees towards the little pink casita I would stay in for two nights and automatically my heart felt lighter. I was welcomed into the home of Nina Reina, her husband Don Hector and there three kids Noe (4), Dianna (8) and Vanessa (11). There house really feels like a home and there family is very loving and dear together. It is beautiful and quiet in their little mountainous area, fresh air and clear skies make it feel much more like home. It was like a little break from this new constantly running life.  Friday night I learned to make papusas and we all sat together and pulled the corn kernels off the cob. We laughed at my challenged, weak hands as Reina and Hector stripped the cobs as fast as I did one row.   Hector and Reina gave me their bed and shared with the kids, so very kind of them. I went to the bathroom before bed and met a big fat cockroach on the medal toilet waiting to scare me away. I cocooned myself in my blanket all night freaked out by the bugs circling my head and the big spiders sitting on the wall watching me.  I was treated like a princess, always given the most food and asked if I was comfortable. The rest of the weekend was spent playing soccer and taking pictures with the kids, helping Reina with cooking and clean up and sitting with her in her little stand above the house while she sold food. I learned a lot and saw another reality. I felt uncomfortable and some part of my head was waiting to return to the comfort of this house, then I realized how backwards it was to think that. Reina, Hector and the kids don’t get to leave and go home, they are home. I felt incredibly white and tall. Like my Chacos and my North Face pants and my big white forehead were totally out of place.  I felt uncomfortable telling them about my life at home, knowing how different it is, realizing how incredibly privileged I really am. They let me into their lives, telling me about the two children they lost. One in the Earthquake and the other as a baby from a cause I cant quite understand. We talked about jobs and school, Vanessas dream of going to the University, her intelligence and maturity that blew me away. We talked about living in the city versus living in Cedro, about religion and family and just about life. Noe whined “mommmy mommmy” all weekend and Dianna bugged Nina Reina for 10 cents, the siblings fought and Noe didn’t want to eat his dinner. Vanessa used my camera as a mirror and wanted to play with the baby while the rest of us played soccer. We talked about sadness and happiness, the most basic of similarities between every life I know.

I saw so many parallels, but at the same time I saw so many differences. I felt the feelings of guilt and privilege for the first time. I questioned what it means to be a privileged white woman in a world filled with so many people with less than I. A world where solely having white skin means I have more. I wondered about the barriers this creates and what it means to want to work with people whose lives are so different for the rest of my life. What it means to be in this country solely for the purpose of accompiament and learning. I thought about power dynamics and how on earth I can put my privilege of having an education and so much more into something meaningful to create change in this world, to help create equality for the huge part of this world that is marginalized and living in poverty. I allowed myself to create barriers and feel uncomfortable.

Then I came home to this beautiful family that we have created here. Everyone so happy to see each other and share about our weekends. We had good conversation. They reminded me that guilt is unconstructive and I stopped and realized the barriers I had been creating. I came back to see all the similarities I had with the family. And my brain took steps in this whole big grappling process. I had been thinking a lot before about myself, as Sister Peggy said “ I dunno how you can stand all this looking at yourself”, honestly it was getting kinda hard. Then I stepped into this new reality and got a glimpse of the bigger picture. Ok this is who I am, strengths, flaws, lots of space for learning and growing… but now what, what is my place in this big beautiful and scary world? In praxis class we talked about the Pedagogy of the Oppressed and the ideas of the oppressor and the oppressed. Of liberation and relationships and what it means to be here having meaningful conversations, walking with the people and learning about the structural challenges. Then Tuesday morning in Poli Sci we talked about some of the many structural flaws. About the Oligarchy and what happens when people are forced to move to the states and then they send back remittances and families spend them and continue the cycle of supporting the Oligarchy. And in all this my little brain and heart just kept running and running trying to keep up.

This world is so many things. Lots that are hard to swallow. Lots that make it a little easier, that are the sunshine after the storm. This program is set up in a beautiful way that exposes us to all of it and helps us to reflect and process and not trip over ourselves in all the running. We are constantly thinking and reflecting and as exhausting as it is I think it’s the best way to see and take all this in while grappling with so much inside ourselves at the same time. I feel blessed beyond belief to be here, I feel confused, I feel thoughtful, I feel full of information and ideas, and I feel incredibly loved.

We have been here for four weeks and two days now. So much has happened. It still feels incredibly right. And amongst all of the learning and thinking there is relaxing, exercising, breathing and lots of laughing. Margot and I went to an aerobic dance class Monday and had so much fun. Last week we played hide and seek in our house and the police (who are stationed next door) came over to tell us to be quiet because of all the screaming and laughing that was happening. We ran home in the pooring rain one day just because. We have spirituality nights and community nights where we reflect and breath and check in and just support each other.

And maybe the most exciting of it all… this weekend is a free weekend, the first full one we have had and lots of fun is in store. Tomorrow myself and six others are going to this place with 7 waterfalls. We will take a bus there and then get a guide to show us around and lead our hike up to the waterfalls and between them. We’ll  stay overnight in a cheap hostel and come back Sunday. I am so very excited for an adventure, a release, a weekend of fun without too much thinking J

Love to everyone at home, know that I am thinking of you so much and wish that I could be better at communicating. We are busy as can be and I feel like my words do not do justice to all that is happening in this little land. Maybe next week after a little break from thinking this weekend Ill have better words. Happy weekending!

9/7

Wearing my melanzana for the first time in El Salvador. Driving away from the Zoo today I sighed “Oy, este pais”. Then I laid in my bed tonight with Margot, the closest thing to home and laughed uncontrollably. This is my heart at this moment.

This country is pulling and pushing, leading to laughter, tears, so much joy and a heavy heart.

The streets are busy and chaotic, buses and backs of pick up trucks filled with people, horns constantly honking, no rules to be followed, expert drivers weaving, turning and somehow avoiding crashes. Vendors fill the streets, yelling out at you wherever you go to buy their papusas, ice cream or junk. Uniformed men with the biggest guns I have ever seen guard businesses and nicer houses. Coils of barbed wire on top of every building. Uneven sidewalks, beautiful palm trees, barred windows, papusarias littering every road.  Horns honk and men whistle at gringas walking by, out of habit more so than anything, or at least that’s what I can figure out so far. The eyes of my kids at Cedro are of love and pain. Toys on the playground are more dangerous than we in the U.S. would ever allow and the kids laugh just as hard or harder, and somehow they too keep their balance in the chaos. Driving out of Cedro every man has a machete, used as a tool not a weapon. Fincas (coffee), milpas (corn) and other farmland fill the roads, what we would call aluminum shacks and what they call homes are spaced out and hidden in the trees. Women walk miles with heavy loads balancing on their heads and most people look older than they are because of hard work and struggle. In the UCA professors look no different than those at home, well dressed and respectable. Students walk around with ipods and sit with their laptops outside of classes. Outside of the zoo Don Manuel kindly reminds me to put my camera away and a woman sits on the side of the road crying. Women breast feed wherever their child is hungry without pena and without demeaning looks from those who are “more sophisticated” or maybe just less human. Moms ask if there is enough food for them and one asks if her kids can have a sip of my water. Please, drink it all. The air smells like toxins but after a rain smells fresh as can be. Dogs run rampant, rib cages showing through. Oy, este pais.

Raw

Lupita, one of our beloved cooks tells us the story of her uncles being killed in front of their children, of the men breaking into her house at night looking for her father, of the pain and suffering and of the blessing they had of leaving the little town that was only the beginning of so much corruption. Of going to school without shoes and of living in fear. Julio tells us about his tia migrating to the U.S. and later his sister taking their cousin to be with her mother. Leaving her kids behind. Being detained, paying off the cops and arriving to a family member who left her desperate. Of her children who have never known their mother and live her with their Grandma. The risk of sending them to their mother and the pain they experience not knowing her. We learn about the poverty that forces people to leave. The extremity of the conditions that lead people to sacrifice so much.

Then we tell our own stories. Bear our souls and connect over just what being human feels like. Opening up, letting people in, thinking about all that it means to be all I ever want, vulnerable and genuine.

Raw

That word scares me. Just like the rest of the world, sometimes I feel like I have it all figured out, or at least something. Then I am reminded that in reality, I still and always will have so much to learn. Last night we reflected about “People enshrined in my heart, risks I have taken and sufferings that have seasoned me” I wrote and shared about things that are just easier to keep to myself. I thought deeper about them, saw them differently than I have for a while. Remembered pain and joy, love and support and realized things that I am still grappling with. I had an amazing conversation about the rawness of humanity, of the beauty and pain/fear that this leads too. I thought about how easy it is for life to take you somewhere you didn’t plan and how much intention goes into living right. I let my heart soar with kids at the zoo looking at monos, tigres, pajaros and identifying their colors and English names. I let it hurt for two brothers whose brains work differently and who have so many fewer services than they need, who want nothing more than love and life and who are so far behind. I came home and fell asleep in the hammock and then Quentin played “Tears in Heaven” and I explained to him how special that song is.

My heart was exhausted. So I laid in my bed with Margot and we fleshed some stuff out, and then we laughed and laughed and laughed about nothing. An explosion of so many emotions, of big learning and feeling and trying to understanding. Catharsis that was so needed. And now I am here, at a candelit table with three beautiful people, feeling my heart, eating cookie dough and living in this crazy life.

This is El Salvador and Casa de la Solidaridad.

Juxtaposition

Im sitting in this little oasis we have found, El Arco. A cafe near our house surrounded with trees overlooking the city. Im sitting next to a woman of my soul, listening to Spanish music, catching up with the world and knowing I need to start doing homework soon. This morning I listened to a talk called "relating wisely to desire" from my lap top in my comfortable bed. I rolled out of bed leisurely and had a delicious breakfast of french toast and tea on the patio with my housemates. Yesterday we spent the day at another oasis, we may have well been at a tropical resort. Palm trees, beautiful plants, grass, a pool, and a river running through the property to play in. We read, slept, swam, played soccer, ate more pan dulce than should be legal, and fully enjoyed ourselves. We ate coconuts fresh of the trees that the gardener opened with his machete. Tanned (or burned) and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. (Pictures to come on facebook). It was the most beautiful day.

During the week we walk to our classes passing by people selling whatever they can on the streets. We learn about all the pain and struggle this country has experienced. The second most homicides in the world after Iraq, nearly 50% of the country in poverty and so many people making way less than is sufficent to survive. We spend two days at our sites where families live in one room houses without electricity and running water, where our comedor serves beans, rice and tortillas to families that cannot afford food. Where we are told when teaching English classes we cannot ask immediately about families, ever about their favorite resturaunts or what they did this weekend. This culture is living a totally different reality.

Oh the juxtaposition.

There is a part of me that feels guilty for this life I return to when I leave those communities. And a part of me that feels like my soul is being taken care of. But something about the fact that my soul needs taken care of after seeing what is the truth for those people every single day tells me that something is seriously wrong with this world.

I am having a beautiful experience. The pain and struggle in this country hurts my soul. And the hope and love ignite it. I am starting to learn something about priorities, about differences, about life. But oh do i have so far to go.

Communicating in a language I do not know very well is hard. Living in a house with 12 people and spending almost all your time with those and 15 others is challenging. Exploring how to respond to extreme poverty and pain is heart breaking. Feeling the things you feel when you are reflecting on big questions, thinking of home, thinking of faith and pain and beauty sometimes doesn't feel like peaches and cream. For the last 20 years my most beloved coping method has been optimism. Optimism that has done me well, but sometimes has also been to a fault. I have learned to make everything feel ok with a big smile, with a constant search for the beauty in things. Yes it is partly survival that is necessary and it is partly hiding from the truth. A week ago I said to Margot "I think I am being too optimistic, I am having trouble really processing all this without seeing the good in it all" Yes there is good, but also there is so so much bad. Pain that must be acknowledged, empathized with and someday in my life, understood well enough to help create a change.

We are taking liberation theology with Sister Peggy. A woman who is a legend at Santa Clara, in this country and likely in much larger areas of the world. She is one of the most dynamic woman I have ever met, and is in her 70s. She has seen pain and love and seems to have such a grasp on life. She tells us she doesnt know all the answers, but definitely more than we do. She jokes about not having a soul until you are thirty, tells us to pig out on life, and calls herself "a prisoner of hope". We read about The Great Turning, Mysticism and Impasse and the Dark Night. This idea of "too optimistic" halting our most courageous and creative form of living, keeping us from seeing life as it is, from being real, genuine and honest. Oh did it speak to me. This is so much of what pulled me here, so much of what I am ready to learn. The articles talk about how we as Americans are educated in rational thinking and not in emotions. For so long I have told myself it is weak to be anything but happy, but to feel emotions is one of the most important human qualities. To see them, acknowledge them and with time, to let them pass. Emotions are what motivate life and change and all things beautiful. We do not know light without dark and sometimes we need to sit in the darkness to see what this all means.

I want to learn what this all means and how to put it into my own life, I want to feel what these people feel no matter if I am sitting on a broken chair surrounded by chickens, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes and hearing stories of pain or if I am laying in a gorgeous tropical oasis tanning.  I want to learn how to put all of this life into something that moves me more than it already does. I want to be present and alive, taking it all in and experiencing with all of my senses as Juancito has taught us too so that our writing can be better. Take me El Salvador, open me, break me, make me laugh, cry, learn and teach me. You are a country of so much knowledge, wisdom and love.

Praxis days are hard and taxing and eye opening. I know that means they are the most important. We come home exhausted. Listening to stories in Spanish takes so much focus and energy, often so much is lost. The kids and adults alike open our eyes to things we wish were not real and we come home without words too explain. This program was geniusly designed and again and again we are asked to reflect in ways that help us see things from a deeper lense. All I can do is try my very best to be present during my days at Cedro, then after my brain and heart have reenergized I can stop and think about all that I saw. My classes, sprituality and community night and just late night chats with my housemates help make it all real. Reflecting is the name of the game, and makes me feel more alive than ever.

Class days although long are almost relaxing. Some are in English and all are with familiar faces. More comfortable than our days at praxis and rejuvenating for our return.  Thursday we played soccer with some of the Becarios(Salvadoran scholarship students) and others that were at the field ready to play the beloved game of futbol. We had a blast. I havent played soccer since senior year and it was so refreshing to be out there. Dust in our faces, slipping left on right on mud, yelling "aqui aqui" over and over again in Spanish since I dont know the correct words. Soccer ball bouncing between my feet, getting smacked with the  ball on bare skin and the adrenaline of shooting or passing the ball. We ran after and almost every day. The air is hot and sticky and sometimes taste dirty from all the city toxins. The views are different but the act of running makes all the challenges of this new world less intimidating. Running is a place of peace. We are starting to get into a routine and so much of this feels so very right. There are moments that weigh hard but so many places of comfort, understanding, support, reflection and refuge.

We are coming on three weeks in and already my brain and heart are on fire. Sometimes painfully so. I am being challenged and loved. El Salvador is fulfilling its promises of opening my soul

Laundry and faith... 8/31

Hello again… I have a few things on my mind… Spirituality, praxis, and laundry.

Ill start with the most painful…LAUNDRY. Just a little piece of knowledge to keep with you… those things we call laundry machines. THOSE ARE MIRACLES AND ANGELS AND EVERYTHING WONDERFUL. I just finished doing a load of laundry, I remember how I used to complain about this at home.. oh what a pain to put my clothes in the machine press start and wait 30 minutes to put them in another machine. Here we do all our laundry by hand. Soak, soap, scrub, rinse and rinse and rinse, ring out and then hang to dry and wait ya know just a quick 4 days. The thing is this would be totally worth it if my clothes felt super clean afterwards… but for some reason it just seems really hard to get them clean. Ill hopefully get the hang of it eventually, but for now I will struggle with my laundry. But I will do it laughing. Its silly… sometime Ill take a video so you can watch. Also, dirty is the name of the game here. Sticky, smelly, buggy, ya know… all those beautiful things that remind you that spending hours getting ready in the morning SO is not worth it. And you are much more than how badly you smell ;)

Ok enough for the whining…

Last night we had our first spirituality night. Spirituality is a BIG scary thing. Everyone sees it so differently, and sometimes it totally scares people away. We talked about what breathes life into us. Oh could I go on for days. I really love this life, people, nature, meaningful conversations, writing, kiddos, exercising… so much more. Then we talked about what faith tradition we were born into and where we are today in our spiritual journey. I guess you could say I was born Catholic. I mean I was, I am baptised and I think when I was itty bitty we went to church a lot. Life was pretty scary then and I know my parents found some solace in church. Then slowly life kept happening, and church became a Christmas and Easter event.  I know so little about the bible and all of those things you learn if you are “born into a faith tradition”. I toyed with Young Life for a while but got scared away real fast… A lot of that knowing little but kinda wishing I knew something happened for a long time.

Senior year came along and life decided to send me on quite the ride during the spring. It seemed pretty scary. I remember days wondering how it was ever going to work out. Crutches, lots of time in my house alone, scary college money questions and scary things happening to people who matter more than I could ever understand. People helped me through it and that’s a totally different conversation. Something happened then on my spiritual journey though. Last day of senior year I went to Walter Byron during a free period. I remember exactly what I was wearing, the people I was texting, the thoughts I was having. And the colorful elephant journal I was writing in. The sun was beaming down and suddenly I realized… life is REALLY good. Im about to graduate, I am going to the school of my dreams, everyone is alive and kicking and we are making it through this scary rollercoaster. It just hit me that things work out, in crazy crazy ways. Something changed in me and since then I have just had this deep faith that things work out. I cant say 100% what I believe. Some part wants to believe in the God, some part just cant quite commit. For now… I am a believer in the Universe. I have faith that somehow things work out, that painful moments have deeper meanings of learning and growth, and that every moment is right in some way shape or form as long as I have the right attitude about it all. I believe the Universe puts things on my path for specific reasons, I believe life makes more sense than I sometimes want to believe. I believe everything will turn out somehow. And I also know I have a lot of learning and exploring still left to do. But for now.. I am a Universe person.

Now I am here in this place where struggle is so common. Poverty is life. The community I am spending two days a week in is full of people making $3 a day, close to $100 a month… and yesterday I learned that for a family of 4 to survive on the minimum that we in the U.S. consider necessary, they need about $600 a month. Sometimes two people in a family work but they often have more than two kids. Try as you might that just doesn’t equate. So things like electricity, water, phones, clothes, shoes, healthy food, education are no longer necessary or possible. Kids as young as 3 have seen their fathers killed because of gang involvement. And their peers already know how precious every kernel of rice is. High school is a dream that many cannot fulfill cause of money and distance, not because of intelligence or dedication. The struggle goes on. So what in the world is faith and spirituality in a world like that?

Having faith in the universe really means something totally different for me. I have a roof over my head, food to sustain me and an education that keeps me learning and growing, All that will in itself make everything turn out all right. What about with out those things? How do believe that everything will work out, and that things happen for a reason if you have never experienced a moment of complete comfort and fulfillment. That is what I am here to learn. I guess it’s about being comforted and sustained by different things. Family, love, sunshine. Really the same things… but without some of the basics I feel like so many of us wouldn’t be sustained by those things. Its like the needs pyramid.. basic comes long before self fulfillment (or whatever the correct words are..ya know)

At the end of our praxis days we drive out of the community honking and waving at the dozens of people we see walking back to their homes. All with such joy. But I wonder how it feels for them to see us leaving. They don’t get to drive away at the end of the day to their comfortable beds, running water, fresh cooked meals and big laundry sinks to whine about. That is home, not just something they are coming into to learn from. I feel ashamed driving away smiling and waving. We live such a different reality where we can drive away at the end of the day. Where faith in the universe becomes a little easier. With time I will ask these questions, I will search for a whole new meaning of faith, rooted in something so much deeper than that which I hold onto.

8/30

Today I opened my email and had the most wonderful message from that trusty brother of mine. Communication with the rest of the world has been a bit of a limp in my step. You think its hard as a freshmen when your friends at home cant imagine what your dorm looks like and don’t know any of your new friends. You feel like there is less to talk about cause they might not understand. Thing is.. they totally understand. Their lives are the same game with different players.

In this new adventure I feel even more so like its just so hard to explain. Its so new to me and an experience of sorts that hasn’t been had by millions of people at home. The culture, lifestyle, language, food, SO much is different. So much is new and stimulating (I always get that word wrong I think its right this time though.) You cant even quite understand it yourself let alone get others to get it. So I go to this funny little internet café with my computer on my lap and try to explain all that’s happening here. And I leave every time really frustrated and overwhelmed like my words just aren’t doing justice for this experience.  Not to mention mom and dads responses have been slightly umm… unconnected and its just a funny thing. Jesse waited a while to respond but today he reminded me “You shouldn't feel funny writing - you do it well and you never will be able to perfectly capture the experience”. Um… your right. Words will start to come easier, pictures will help, all will fall into place. This is life we are talking about, it always does. Just know that I am trying my best to send what I can but so much is being unsaid. This experience is light years more than something that I can put into a quick email or blog. So.. I will keep trying.

Jes asked some questions about what was happening here and ended his email saying “I am so happy for you and proud of you for embracing the experience. Don't try to hard to "do it right." Take it all in, go with the flow, whatever is right in that moment...

BAM… spot on brotha. So what I needed to hear. A lot has been happening and its so hard to be present enough, awake enough, open enough, loving enough, honest enough, good enough at Spanish… and all sorts of enough. But I need to just know that I, fully and completely as Michelle am enough, as long as I am always open to learning and growing. Speaking of Spanish Diana said something along the lines of “Although your spanish may be lacking woman, don't worry. You are fluent in the language of love! Big eyes, big heart, open arms can get you far anywhere!”Bam… spot on again.

We are in our praxis sites with two other people. I am with two of the people with the best Spanish in our group. At first I was intimidated and worried I wouldn’t be able to get enough words in or wouldn’t be able to keep up with conversations. Yesterday I realized, being with them is SUCH a gift. Its like running with Ella who is just a little bit better of a runner than I am and makes me go harder and longer. Listening to them speak teaches me, hearing their vocab and grammar is so good for me and it is my responsibility to take the initiative to get into conversations. But also, sometimes its ok just to listen (not my strong point I know, that’s why I am here… to grow J)

Our site is a beautiful place teeming with life, struggle, hope, passion, pain and so much more. We get to ride with our taxi driver Salvador part of the way in the morning. He totally blew my mind yesterday. I don’t know quite enough about affectionate and open adult males. He is here to teach me. He is so loving and wise and ready to have beautiful conversations. He went on and on about how special the three of us are, so open and outgoing, no pena (hard to translate but close to shame/ embarrassment) about our Spanish. He says it takes special people to create the feeling we had in that taxi. He told us about all the people he has driven and promised so many stories to come. I cant wait to spend my mornings with this man. We rode the rest of the way with Soar Ana Rosa. A sister of some something (ya know whatever nuns are) that I don’t know who is kind of in charge at Cedro. She is an amazingly strong and accomplished women who just goes about her daily business giving to no end. Shes strong and bossy and all the nice words my mom uses to describe me sometimes ;) but she was oh so wonderful to us. We spent the morning with the kindergardeners. One girl broke my heart asking again and again for one of my bobby pins… bobby pins are like..less than pennies. Preety much like pieces of trash that girls completely rely on but go through packs and packs because of how easy they are to misplace. For sweet little Rosa it was something special, later she asked for Claras watch and necklace and I started to get a little concerned. Something in her life is motivating all this. Maybe its that she has so little materially or maybe its something a little deeper than that. Then there was William, who hugged me and grabbed my hand as often as he could. Sweet as could be and totally the cuddly little 5 year old I always wish Kamryn would turn into (not really I love her just how she is) but 5 year olds just aren’t naturally that affectionate, and again my big open eyes wandered what his little life looks like. So many kids grabbed my attention, I could go on for days. But I have four months to learn about them. To listen to them, not just their words but so much more. Kids are such a beautiful thing to me, living through such scary things but running around at recess silly and joyful as can be. The world has a lot to learn from them.

Later we served food in the comedor (community kitchen), some kids stay after school to eat, other older kids come on their way to or from school (most only go for half a day because of space, funding, resources, teachers, etc). Lots bring tuperwares to take home food to their family. I watched one tiny little girl scrape every last left over bean and kernel of rice out of her bowl into the tuperware to take home to her family. The knowledge she had of how precious that food is broke my heart once again, this is a reality that so many of us at home know so little about.

We had lunch with Soar and the women who work at the center. There are amazing, loving, beautiful, strong women everywhere we go. And we started talking about family, brothers and sisters, all those basic questions. Someday I will figure out my coined response for how many siblings I have. Its always a struggle.. if I just say two they ask why we are so far apart. If I say 3 I expose a little of my soul to people and sometimes the pity that is returned just makes for an awkward interaction. Anyways Soar asked and I said “Somos tres,pero ahora solamento hay dos” (We are three but now there are only 2).  I gave a 3 second explanation of Eric and his leukemia, she smiled and we moved on. There is something really… liberating about saying that (especially in Spanish for some reason.. I like somos tres). It is also interesting how so often at home that response would turn into story time, but for Soar.. and probably for so much of this country responses like that are common and matter of fact. Stories and emotions can come later, but for yesterday that was just the truth. It’s a beautiful thing I tell you, and today when someone asked how many siblings I had, I said it again. Im sticking with it, Eric is someone worth knowing. I think about him a lot here for whatever reason. My so very special picture with him is the closest to my pillow and I explained to one girl today… losing Eric gave something really positive to Jesse and I.  I don’t know where Im going with this other than maybe there is some sort of connection over loss and something to be said for being real and honest in the most simple of ways. The boys are learning “If I Saw You In Heaven” Someday I will tell them how that song makes my heart soar and this perfect image I have of dad on the deck in Michigan saying “this is my song for Eric”.  Vulnerable and genuine are themes in my head… this country, my goals, my weaknesses and my hopes for this time here. Its missing at home and now is my time to figure out how to make it more a part of me.

Today we had Political Science… the class I still haven’t decided if I should take or not. The classes are all too great and right now I am “taking” six… we are only supposed to take 5 but they are just too interesting and wonderful. Poli Sci counts toward my major and is SO interesting. Just after one class I feel like I have such a better understanding of this country. How money is distributed, made, moved, lost, shared, etc. Unemployment, agriculture, war, violence, prostitution. The differences between the U.S. and El Salvador. SO VERY INTERESTING. Also, its going to be a super easy A, he said… my only rule is that we enjoy this class, I don’t want you to be stressed at all about this. Ill take it… a class where I learn SO much but also get to enjoy it and not have loads of homework and tests. Then there is Life Writing. A legend of a class taught by a Santa Clara professor who everybody raves about. I don’t think Im going to get it to count for anything but it is so wonderful. I love writing and I may never really have a chance to take a writing class. Its all about experiences and autobiography and sounds like its almost going to be therapeutic. It’s a lot of work but seems totally worth it. So I want to take both.. plus the other 4 I have to take, and I might be crazy. We shall see.

Nate said in his blog, I am being so energized by the people here..both in the program and the Salvadorans. It is so true. There is just this feeling of energy and love, understanding, thoughtfulness and commitment to this experience that is always in the air. Everytime we are apart we look forward to coming back together and spilling about our days. We are starting to get into the thick of it all a little bit together and it is so wonderful. I am right where I need to be and couldn’t be happier. I am exhausted, itchy, stinky and always sweaty and sticky. But none of that matters one bit. Sorry for the sudden explosion of thoughts and words. My brain is starting to work again. And still there is so much I left out. Ill be back. XOXO