All in the name of progress… or, Again with the world politics metaphors?

So, as many of you know, I have had a lot of unwanted borders living in my house at various times during my service. The most prominent were the mice that, as far as I can tell, had a serious mouse metropolis built in my walls and ceiling when I first moved into the house. They gave me quite a bit of trouble initially, as they ate, or pooped on, all of my food and spent the nights loudly scurrying around my room (presumably as they rushed to where I stored my food, or their pantry/bathroom as they saw it). After a long and bloody genocide I have finally eradicated the mouse problem using traps, poison and machetes. While all of this was going on however I had numerous other critters taking up residence in my home. The most long standing of which were definitely the spiders that moved into my bathroom. It started off as one spider building a web in one of the corners, and by the year’s end I had serious webs emanating from every nook available. Despite the grossness factor of having so many spiders in my tiny bathroom (believe me, it is rather off-putting to have all of those beady eyes staring at you while you shower), I was not particularly bothered by their existence and allowed them to continue living and thriving there. I did this not out of aversion to murdering arachnids or insects (since I have long had a standing “kill on site” order for other breeds of spiders (such as tarantulas), scorpions, and all manner of creepy multi-legged insects), but because they were useful for eliminating winged insects, and because they generally kept to themselves (unlike another breed of spider that like to wander around the room at night and climb onto my face while I am sleeping (needless to say they are on my “kill on site list”)). My affinity for the bathroom spiders was such that when a scorpion intruded on one of their nests and was menacing the spider who lived there, I came to its rescue and hit the scorpion with a hammer.

By now you may have noticed that I have been speaking of the bathroom spiders in the past tense. This is because in order to paint my bathroom, I had to “relocate” them in order to get rid of the webs that were covering much of the upper part of the walls. This process was much like that which the People’s Republic of China undertook to relocate large portions of the population of the Sichuan province in order make way for the flooding of the Yangtze that would result from the construction of Three Gorges Dam. I, like the communist party leaders, had a vision for a greater future and I was not going to be stopped by a few insignificant peasants’ homes… I mean spider’s webs. Though in my case rather than buying out peoples land, and offering them homes in newly constructed cities outside of the flood range, just burned out their webs with a flaming news paper and brushed away the charred remains. As far as I can tell most of the spiders just retreated farther back into their crevices in the roof (and will probably start rebuilding their webs once they regroup), though at least one stood its ground as the fire approached and was incinerated. In the end I have to admit that I feel kind of guilty, but progress is progress and the Peoples Republic of Stephen must continue to expand its glory.

Of Futbol matches and Funerals... or, Can't we Have Just One Game Where No One Pulls a Gun

Much like Jutiapa my town also participated in an important futbol match this past weekend. In our case it was the final match of a two month long tournament that we (and by “we” I really mean “they”, since our town had assembled an all-star team of our various clubs in order to participate, and lord knows I am not all-star material in futbol) had been participating in the nearby municipality of Lucerna. 

Going into this match our team had been undefeated in the tournament and had shown themselves to be the best team in all aspects of play. This was clear from the fact that our goalie was the least scored on, we had the highest goal scoring player, and we had the player voted best defenseman of the tournament. Unfortunately this earlier success did little to help them in the final and my towns team lost a hard fought game 2-0. This outcome is misleading since the two goals came on a blown offside’s call early in the match, and a penalty shot in the last 3 minutes of play, that came as a result of a needless penalty due to desperation to tie the game. The most exciting (if that is the right word) part of the game was came in the beginning of the second half when an on field penalty resulted in a bench clearing brawl (don’t think they use that expression in futbol, but I’m just going to steal it from baseball anyway) that ended with multiple spectators pulling guns (this is a disturbingly common occurrence in rural Honduran futbol matches).

It started when my friend was slide tackled out of bounds over aggressively while trying to center the ball for one of our players to take a shot on goal (this happened directly in front of me and had I not jumped back I would have been plowed into). Rather than just get up and take the free kick that had been called by the referee, my friend (who has a bit of a temper) decided to send the other player a message, and so as he was getting up he kicked the other player in the face (his foot had ended up on top of the other guys head when they fell, so he basically just let it drop on him). This resulted in them both jumping up and exchanging punches (I tried to pull them apart but they were pretty dedicated to beating the crap out of each other). This prompted both teams, and a large portion of the spectators (we were the visitors, but we had showed up with 10 pickup trucks full of fans), to charge into a large group around them pushing and shoving. 

Things got out of hand when suddenly one of the fans from the other town (defiantly drunk) to pull out his pistol and wave it in my friends face. He (correctly) decided that the fight was not worth dying over and bolted across the field. This prompted the gunman to jam his piece in another one of our player’s chests, as he was trying to calm the man down. Not to be out done a bunch of the guys from my town pulled their own guns and started moving towards the confrontation (if you haven’t been keeping up with my blog thus far, many people carry guns, even my mayor was at the game with a 45 caliber revolver sticking out of the frint of his pants).

Luckily for everyone cooler heads prevailed and the confrontation was diffused before anyone got shot. Somehow after things cooled down the game resumed without a single card being issued and the game finished almost without incident (though both teams were playing extremely aggressive and mean spirited futbol). The only other incident being a few minutes after when the line judge, positioned in front of the other towns fans, made a call in favor of our team and was shoved from behind and verbally threatened by their fans. Luckily for everyone (especially the line judge) the police showed up right after this and made a show of forced (which is pretty easy when you are a force of six guys in flack vests armed with M16s). After the game ended I opted to get a ride home with one of my friends and his family rather than going out with the young guys to drink off the loss. 

Though I learned afterwards, that they apparently just bought a bunch of booze and returned to town to get drunk at a vela (wake) for a 14 year old from one of the aldeas (who it turns out was the cousin of a friend of mine, and I had actually met) who was shot by a friend while playing with a parent’s gun last week . Thinking about this made me realize that in my town futbol matches and funerals are both just seen as normal local social events, but I guess that makes sense considering the likelihood that the former will often enough give cause for the latter.

The One with Rainbows and Smiling Children

So, I have yet to read Stephen's blog post about how his fútbol game in La Fraternidad/ Campolandia went down, but I've heard him describe it over the phone, and to me it sounds more like a plot to an episode of Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia than it does the life of development worker.

My story is the complete opposite (sorta the point of this new combo blog venture).  My fútbol game doesn't feature guns or fighting, but it does remind you that "Honduras doesn't always have to win," and that sometimes the simplest of things can make a huge difference to a small community.

Quick Thought: I feel that Latin America's connection to the game of fútbol could be rather easily harnessed to catalyze development and increase community involvement. For the bad wrap that stadium construction gets in numerous urban planning circles back in the states, it might actually be a way for poorer Latin American municipalities to improve their local economies and strengthen or create an environment conducive to extensive community involvement. 

Basically, if you plop down a soccer field in the middle of town, the people will come and good things will happen. The people will buy ice cream, beer, and bags of churros, which helps local business who all operate on very small profit margins, meaning they need to generate a high volume sales to be profitable (think how many Lps. 3 bags water you need to sell in order to make a profit). Not only that, but when you involve local kids and community members, you make the contacts necessary to work on other community projects in the future. This is an idea I want to run with later, and it could serve as an excellent side article to that thesis I've been needing/meaning/wanting to write. 

So if you've read other blog posts of mine regarding Jutiapa's park restoration project, you'll probably know that this is a project that has required a lot of "patience." That is not to say that there haven't been some great moments, but "Embracing the Chaos" is harder than you think. Another thing I would like to do is write up some very pointed critiques of my work to document the mistakes I made, but for now on to my game of fútbol.

The day commenced with a very fortuitous sign.

After more than six months of planning and work we opened the first phase of our park restoration to hundreds of Jutiapeños, the Vice-Minister of the Interior (and rising political star), a freaking rainbow, and a big-time game, by local fútbol standards, played under the lights and celebrated with hundreds of people.

Jutiapa's Police Chief speaking in coordination with the community's anti-violence campaign

Our inaguration kicked off with the traditional opening ceremony, which I'm sure other PCVs know all to well. At our "Principal Table" sat management of ENEE (the electric company), myself, repersentatives of the Municipalidad, the Vice Ministra (Carmen Rivera) of the Interior, the Police Chief, and a community repersentative. Local televesion channels were present, capturing every moment (meaning I made Honduran TV in La Ceiba, the equivalnet of Rockford, Illinois public access haha). Everyone, including myself had to give a speech. During the Vice-Ministra's speech it became evident how much of a politica she really is becoming. During the speech she actually cajoled the management of ENEE into making sure he took care of two missing lights for the field. She did this in front of the large assembled audience, which had to take some serious ganas. Her comment loosely translated into, "Sir, I see you still have some more work to do with fixing those two missing lights. I'm sure that will be taken care of in the coming days, no?"

Teams lined up for the opening ceremony. Note the church in the background. Great pic.

At the end of the ceremony we were able to present dozens of youth with sports equipment that had been graciously provided by the organization Sports Gift, which is based out of California, but there generosity would not have been possible if it weren't for the help of the Orange County Peace Corps Association, NaviVan, and the Higher Ground Family Church in Louisiana.   
    
The work is not done, a point I made sure to bring up multiple times during the day. While this project is taking me a lot longer than originally planned, I like the progress we are now making. It is great to see fruits of your labor, but it is even better to see what is going on behind the scenes. The strengthening of the Sports Committee's capacity is by far my biggest and most unseen challenge, but it is also the work I am most proud of, since the park and futbol field mean nothing if they aren't maintained. 

After the ceremony we started our tournament, which went really well. Teams from all over Jutiapa came to play on our new field, and it was incredible to watch how happy everyone was to be playing on such a professional surface. A Canadian Couchsurfer who had been crashing at my apartment for a  few days made the comment that, "...you must feel like a rockstar." as people continuously came up to me to make a comment on the field and how proud they were that it was in Jutiapa. I can't express how good that felt. Hearing those comments made if feel like all of the fijese ques, missed or canceled meetings, professional incompetence, false starts, and frustration disappear. In Honduras, you need those small victories to keep going, since it is really easy to feel like Honduras is always winning.

After passing most of the day on my balcony, the time for the big game came. We turned on the lights, shook hands, and the people crowded around the field, ranchero music blasting from their parked cars. Even though I hadn't played fútbol in nearly 10 years I was forced to acquiesce at the insistence of my counterpart, Oscar. Expecting to play only 10 minutes, I went out pretty hard, completely forgetting how much running you actually have to do. Our team ended up getting killed by a score of 5-0, but unlike La Fraternidad, no guns were pulled and the people returned to the quiet of a Sunday night in Jutiapa.

The first game under the lights on the new field.

Cheers,


Jesse

If I were God I Would be Rather Unimpressed by Your Efforts… or Wow Christian Rock Really Sucks

So to start things off I would just like to say that in this edition I am in no way trying to besmirch anyone’s religious beliefs. I feel that everyone should be able to pursue whatever path to enlightenment and/or salvation they choose to follow (as long as it doesn't impede on or attack other people’s happiness and way of life… looking at you Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell). What I am doing in this edition is pointing out (some might say ranting about) the terrible music that passes for Christian rock (specifically here in Central America). So as a background to this I must explain that my best Honduran friend and his wife have recently joined a Catholic couples group to strengthen their marriage. This has led them to become much more vocal about the merits of Christianity (which honestly doesn't really do it for me) as well as (much more annoyingly) to start listening to the same ten Christian rock songs and hymns on repeat. This started off badly enough for me, since they are my closest neighbors and have a seriously bumping speaker system (thus inside of my house it sounds like I am playing the music at full blast) and they invite me over for meals at least three times a week (which is really nice and I really appreciate, except that the music doesn't stop for meals). Things got decidedly worse when his wife (who is one of my coworkers) decided to put together a mix cd for the other members of their group and recruited me to download the songs and burn them onto cds (I tend to get suckered into these sort of jobs as I am one of the only people in town with the computer know how to pull something like this off). This process took an unfortunately long time since the cd she had was badly recorded and we couldn’t just get the songs directly off of it, and thus had to find them all on the internet. A feat made even more daunting by the fact that she did not know any of the artists or song titles and thus we had to search them all out based on the chorus lines for each song (which meant we ended up listening to them repeatedly). This was followed by a long process of finding places to download the songs from (with me having to repeatedly explain the concept that while we could listen to music videos on you tube it did not mean that the song was downloaded to the computer and could now be put on a disk). Despite the many setbacks we finally got all of the songs downloaded and the cds burned. As a closing remark, I would just like to say that if people we singing songs praising me and my good works (which [fingers crossed] they will be some day) I would definitely like them to be more musically complex and lyrically creative than the majority of trash that is being passed off as Christian rock these days (I think I can safely say, that whatever deity or greater entity is hanging out up in the clouds these days, is not really impressed).

Ps. For those of you who are curious about the type of music i am referring to her is an example of one of the songs:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGlPr3vjUxE

The New Blog...Or Why the Layout Just Drastically Improved

Faithful followers of my old blog (so mostly my mom, and my really bored friends) may have noticed a few major changes to the format and content over the last week.  We reached the descision to undertake this blog fusion for a variety of reasons. The primary one being that we felt that our blogs were uniquely different from each other and could be complimentary to each other’s styles. His blog (which you can now find back entries of here) is much more academic in nature, drawing on external sources and touching on the major issues effecting Honduras and international development in the region. Mine on the other hand is just a humorous (I hope) and ridiculous collection of musings and personal anecdotes (mostly involving my interactions with animals in my house). We felt that merging the two would offer our readers a chance to get an experience that was both educational as well as humorous, as well as to give them a chance to see the vast differences between our two sites and PC experiences in general. Also we have both been shamefully bad at posting new entries with regularity, and felt that this merger would allow us to keep posting new content more frequently. So to all of my old readers, as well as those of you who have been faithfully following Jesse’s blog, welcome to the new and improved PC Honduras blog experience.

-Stephen

Fun with regionalisms... or Putting the "Ch" in Chino

The English and Spanish alphabets are generally the same. The only real difference, beyond pronunciation (as Hondurans will tell you, English is difficult because “you don’t pronounce words the way they are written”, and no matter how hard you try to convince them that letters just make different sounds in English than they do in Spanish, they will not back down from this point), is the presence of the letters “ñ”, “ll”, and “ch”. The last two are seen as separate letters from their individual components since they have such strongly different pronunciations, “ll” making the equivalent of a “y” sound, and “ch” making the same sound it does in English (though there is no “sh” or “th” in Spanish, thus “ch” is unique enough to warrant being its own letter, which also leads to Hondurans pronouncing “sh” as “ch”, when speaking English, as in “pencil charpener”, and “th” as “d”, as in “duh” or “dee” rather than “the”).

I bring all of this up, because the other day I was listening to the kindergarten class practice their letters in their classroom, located next to my office (this means that every morning I get to hear them start off the day singing loud songs about Jesus and get reminded why I love the separation of church and state that we (supposedly) have in the US). When they got to “ch” I happened to be listening to the teacher give them examples of words and had to laugh a bit to myself. This is because the examples she gave were “Ch de Chucho” and “Che de Chino”. This is funny because “chucho” is Central American slang for a dog (the actual Spanish word being “perro”), and “chino” is the official word for “chinese”, but is universally applied to any asian person here (thus to talk to a Japanese person they will say “Hola chino” the equivalent of “Hello Chinese”). It just struck me funny that the only two examples that this teacher was giving to her class as part of their Spanish lessons were a local slang word (that actually derives from a Mayan word rather than from Spanish), and a word that is used almost exclusively as a semi-racist slang way of referring to asian people. She apparently could not think of any actual common (and politically correct) Spanish words to use as examples for her students.

After thinking about it though, I realized that there are only a few actual words that start with “ch” (only a single page in my Spanish-English dictionary) but a multitude of local slang words, indigenous place names, and nicknames. Thus it is reasonable that she had difficulty thinking up good common examples of official Spanish words (though there are some easy ones like “chispa”-spark, “chupar”- suck or drink or, “chocar”- crash), seeing as her mind was probably flooded with slang and proper noun examples like “chancho”- a pig, “Choluteca” – a department of Honduras, and “Chepe”, “Chofo”, “Chomo”, “Chungo”, or “Chicho”- all nicknames of people in my town (most of which are super common nicknames, there literally being at least six “Don Chepe”s in my town, and three “Chicho”s).

"Embrace the Chaos"

"It was 1994, and I was ice climbing when I fell into a crevasse and hurt my leg. There was only one way out, so fighting every natural instinct I have, I did the thing I hated the most. I climbed down into the darkness. And when I came back to camp, I went to the person who cut my line and said, "Connie Chung, you saved my life."-Jack Donaghy

Honduras is chaotic. You only have to spend 5 minutes in a cab ripping through downtown Tegucigalpa to discover this. Trying to apply “Westernized management” and international development processes to this chaos is about as effective as placing a stop sign in Comayagüela. It's absolutely ridiculous, but at the same time isn’t that the point of development? To bring order to "chaos"?

As fairly inexperienced development workers we often approach the work we undertake in Honduras by utilizing the strategies that we found successful from our time in university and short lived careers. In reality, here in Honduras even the best-laid plans have a tendency to come undone, or become radically altered. It seems, sometimes, that the chaos is overwhelming.

A few weeks ago at our mid-term medicals in "The Goose" our Programming Officer offered up the phrase, "Embrace the Chaos" to soothe our frustrations about working in Honduras, and give development a new perspective. The phrase automatically reminded me of 30 Rock, which is what happens when you power-watch numerous TV sitcoms. Anyway in a certain episode, Jack Donaghy, gives advice to Liz Lemon telling her to climb down into the darkness, down into the crevasse. It seems that when working abroad you have to do the exact opposite of what your instinct tells you. You have to embrace the chaos.

Over the past few weeks I've really run with this idea of embracing the chaos, and operating more from the seat of my pants than from the plans laid out by my counterparts and I. With that mindset I’ve stopped swimming against the current and begun to accept that the work I do may not be well organized, or achieving synergy, but it’s helping to move this small community forward. So with that, onto what I’ve been doing.

WORK

*I spent a week translating for a group of optometrists working in the community center across from my apartment. They ended up giving over 800 eye exams, and then if necessary a pair of new or lightly used glasses. I usually have problems with groups that just come in donating stuff in such a manner,  since I’ve seen the disruptive effects that these actors can have on the local economy, but with eye glasses I feel it is a different story. It's not like were upsetting the local LensCrafters. In fact, I don't know if I've ever even seen an eye doctor or a glasses shop here in Honduras, outside of the upscale malls of San Pedro and Teguz. Eyeglasses serve to make the workforce more productive and safer, and it felt good to be a part of a productive group. Sadly, poor eye health is nothing unusual in Honduras, but I'm positive we made a difference to the hundreds of people who came to see us. That look of, "Oh my God, I can see." Is absolutely priceless.

*Over 100 pounds of soccer equipment arrived from the organization Sports Gift, which is based out of California. After a labyrinth of shippers and middlemen we were able to get the equipment here, and we are now beginning the process of matching our stockpile of supplies with the needs of the community. Over the past few weeks local soccer teams have been visiting to be fitted for new cleats and uniforms. All of this equipment will be handed out 2 weeks from now when we open the park.

*The municipality must have tripped, fell and landed face first into a giant pile of cash, because a city wide repaving and drainage program has commenced starting with the road that separates the park from the soccer field. I have no idea how the muni has found the money to install a new boulevard, which will be awesome when completed, but I guess I'll take it. After all I'm all about embracing the chaos. Where was this money two months ago when I was begging for Lps. 500/$20 to pay for gasoline to cut the field?

New paving project in the center of town

*To promote the the town’s financial cooperative new publicity campaign, which will end up providing scholarships for local students at nearby orphanage that doubles as a bilingual schools, as well as inject cash into other social programs along the coast. I haven't had many opportunities to help Lupe (my host mom), since the Cooperativa has been running really great this past year. I'm excited to be working with her on this though. 

*We’ve set up a committee to focus on tourism within the municipality, which will hopefully begin to move projects that I’ve been working on in El Cacao forward.This is a project that has stalled because I've spent more time focusing on the park.

It has definitely been a chaotic couple of weeks and it's only going to get busier before Thanksgiving, but as they say, “Embrace the Chaos.”

Featured Content: #57 Talking About Poop

Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like

There exists a subject that would not constitute polite dinner table conversation at home, but that becomes a favourite mealtime topic over which to bond as soon as one enters the magical realm of Expat Aid Workerness. This topic never gets old because it affects each and every EAW at some point. It’s known as gut rot, running stomach, the shits, two bob bits, Montezuma’s revenge, Delhi belly and other fine euphemisms. And EAWs find it to be one of the most interesting topics on earth.

When home, EAWs greet their coworkers with a friendly, “Good morning.” They engage in congenial neighborhood competition over the tidiness of their lawn. But out in the field, everything is different: asking “How is your pooping going?” is a common way to start the day, and bragging rights are earned by descriptions of bowel movements so graphic they would be considered TMI for even an appointment with a gastroenterologist. When the EAW is jetting around the world, communing with local, impoverished people, a spice that doesn’t sit right or a parasite that wreaks havoc is bound to make its way into the EAW’s intestinal tract on an almost daily basis. And that spice or parasite must be discussed—in detail. Because if there is one thing EAWs love more than sharing hints on the best kebab stand in town, it’s talking about their legendary experiences with the after-effects of a meal there.

Nothing says I am a hard core, badass EAW than a good, hard core case of gut rot. Now we are not talking about the kind of ‘upset stomach’ that M & E missions from HQ get when coming for 5 days, after eating salad that wasn’t washed in filtered water. We are talking about the kind that has you bent over double with cramps and limping politely out of coordination meetings hoping to find a WC nearby that 1) has water 2) has a loo roll 3) flushes. EAW scales on which to measure the bad-ass-ness of your latest bout have been created for such situations;  ten being liquid and one being bloody impossible to do anything. A number 5 is a cause for celebration.

Trying to pin point the cause of the problem can provide endless fun, particularly if it was local food. Maybe it was that plastic bag full of batunda, or the chicken kebab from the lady outside the bus station or a dodgy bit of crab in that matapa last night. Discussing the finer points of Cipro (used so often its name gets shortened, like an old friend) verses Amoxicillin and the miraculous properties of Buscopan as an excellent anti spasmodic become the norm. Self medication is particularly welcomed, however even better is being sent to a “regional center of excellence” like Nairobi or Johannesburg for treatment. Ordinary food poisoning is enough to garner some attention if the symptoms were severe enough and the situation extreme enough, but to contract an actual named disease on which to blame the diarrhea is much more of a point of pride. If it can be diagnosed professionally as giardia (bronze) or amoebic dysentery (silver) then this is good, but if it’s so bad that the cause mystifies even the doctors in JBG, and it’s put down to “Africa crud” (gold) then this is even better.

Stories that in normal company would be seen as humiliating are worn as a badge of honor among the EAW community. “Once I almost didn’t make it through customs in Tunis because I kept running out of line to go to the toilet and customs officials thought I was up to suspicious activity” and  “Once an entire compound in an African village watched me shit on their pit latrine and then wipe my ass with my hand” are both totally acceptable dinnertime stories at EAW gatherings.

In no other workplace in the world is it more common to hear about someone’s toilet exploits than it is in an EAW field office. There’s no shame in discussing the hours spent cramped in the bathroom, in fact, the longer an EAW has suffered, the more impressive they become to their colleagues. Levels of field cred can be increased by the way you handle various types of lavatories. There’s your sit down, your squat and aim and then your balance and pray that the square of wood you’re hovering over doesn’t collapse. There are the make shift long drops which seem to attract every fly or buzzing insect in the area, with your only protection from the other members of your team being a UNCHR plastic blue sheet. And then there are the moments on the road from somewhere to somewhere, where you know that the verges could be riddled with AP landmines, and so bang goes the option of privacy behind a bush; you just have to suck it up and deal with going alongside the road, behind the back wheel of your trusty Toyota 13-seater hardtop and hope that a pickup full of locals does not zoom past before you’ve got your trousers up again. (Now you realize why local women prefer skirts!)

Setting aside the pain, discomfort and downright shittines of the situation, a good case of gut rot does have its benefits. Not only does an EAW already have one advantage over their friends at home or HQ colleagues — they are a damn sight more tanned — but a good case of gut rot now and again makes them svelte and even more attractive. Need to drop 7kg? Don’t go to the gym!! Become an EAW and the weight just drops off.

The only bummer about these amazing and exotic stories (aside from the dire intestinal pain and the ruined pairs of underwear) is that EAWs know they can’t use them to impress all their Facebook friends back home. As a status update, “Just shat my pants,” doesn’t have quite the same ring as “Just stepped off a helicopter.”

http://stuffexpataidworkerslike.com/2011/05/18/57-talking-about-poop-2/

Combined posts, by Carly who blogs at Chasing Carly; and tweets @chasingcarly, Katie Seward who blogs at Eating Stuff Everywhere, and UXO.

Visit From the Parents... or Knee Deep in Awesome

Pool at the hotel

So, as a precursor, I feel like my blog posts have been a bit negative of late, and I am going to try to get back on a positive track with this edition. Last weekend my parents flew down to El Salvador and we spent five days hanging out there in the picturesque town of Suchitoto. It was an amazing weekend for a number of reasons, first and foremost being that I had not seen my mother for the last 16 months (since june of 2010). This is by far the longest time I have ever gone without seeing her and it was definitely starting to wear on me (though apparently not as much as it was wearing on her, seeing as she dropped her bags and sprinted across the airport to hug me when I showed up to pick her and my father up). 

Overall the weekend was amazing and full awesome side adventures (like our trip visit to a local illegal chaparo still [chaparo is a kind of local moonshine made from corn], and our visit to the village I worked in with an aid trip 4 years ago]). The highlights however (besides seeing my parents of course), were the sweet hotel we stayed at and the amazing food we ate. While this may make me see shallow (just concentrating on creature comforts), try to imagine how amazing a high priced hotel and good international food would be after 16 months of living on $8 a day in a tiny mud brick house that smells like mold and rats (for those of you without imagination, it is really, really amazing). I ate like a pirate king for 5 days, nothing but delicious food (I had 2 american style steaks, sushi, and even jamon serrano imported from Spain… that’s right expensive imported ham) and top shelf booze (well except for the moonshine, that was some pretty bottom shelf booze [like hobo booze]). Overall it was an spectacular weekend with my parents and my good friends from the states who live in Suchitoto.