I won't be returning to La Florida anymore this summer. My time there has ended, and it makes me really sad. I remember the first days of my arrival to El Salvador--the ride to the Crispaz office, the incredible heat, my very awkward Spanish, the rolling landscape of so much green--and I remember my first days in the campo--feeling lost, alone, and awkward while also being even more amazed by my surroundings. Thinking about all of these memories I have of El Salvador makes me realize just how much my thoughts and perceptions have changed, and how very much I have grown to love La Florida. The relationships I have developed with Elisa, Leo, Miguel, Cristina, Marcial, and Salva have shown me that it is possible to have a family in a country where I came alone, and as a stranger.

I'm now even past the point of being excited to return home to the 'things' I missed most--stores, showers, internet, bread, yogurt, milk--because they seem insignificant. Or, maybe I have just forgotten about the 'things' I thought I once really needed to survive, or even, to feel normal. Seeing my friends and family again is the most important thing that draws me home. At the same time, however, I am also scared. I don't know if I will ever be able to explain why El Salvador and its people are so incredible, why I chose to come here for my entire summer, or why U.S. policies during the war were so terrible and why what U.S. policies and MNCs are doing today to the Salvadoran campesino are only increasing the suffering of so many. And, these 'so many' are no longer just facts and figures I may read about in books, but real. . .actual people that I have come to love and admire. They include Conchi, who once worked in maquilas to support her family; Felipe, who can no longer work a full day because of injuries--torture--he suffered during the war; the families whose loved ones are now in the U.S. working to send their earnings back to their families here (they will remain unnamed here); Miguel, Marwin, and other young boys who live in hiding because their lives are in danger, threatened by the increasingly powerful maras; the campesinos in La Bocanita, Los Monos, San Rafael, and other communities whose reliance on MNCs for their seeds, pesticides, herbicides, etc. does not result in benefits for them, but for the profit-hungry corporations; Leo, Cristina, Daisy, and Miguel who may or may not go to high school, who most likely will not be able to go to college; for those who wander the Santa Tecla 'comedores' asking to eat the tortillas that others leave on their plates; for those who do not have bathrooms, not even outhouses; and, more than anyone, for the children who deserve more.

I am a bubble that is about to burst. I am filled with so many mixed emotions. This trip has overwhelmed me, but overwhelmed me in a good way. I am especially thankful for the strength God has given me to just be here. He has stood by me always.

Time, it passes slowly here and yet it has passed right before my eyes, so much so that I now have only 5 days left in El Salvador.

I'm going to break this entry into parts . . . so read on!

1) Tiziano Ferro is my favorite Spanish singer, although he's really from Italy, and I went to see him--in concert--here in San Salvador. Craziness! One minute I'm sitting at IPES, watching music videos as I wait for Karen--the director of IPES--and the next moment I am asking Elisa and her papá if we can go to the concert after randomly seeing a commercial for it on TV. Well, we did go, and I'm so happy I took Elisa with me. It was her very first concert and we celebrated by eating pizza, drinking gaseosas (soda), and then returning to sleep at the Crispaz office and talking until 1am (very late when you consider that we usually go to bed around 8:30pm and wake up at 5ish). It was an exciting Friday night and, despite having to wake up around 4:15am to get ready to take the bus back to La Florida, I felt energized and happy. Returning home was another matter, as we both encountered quite a few stares from my Salvadoran fam--they told us we were 'locas' for having gone to the concert--but life went back to normal soon after.

2) La Florida doesn't have a real church where church services can be held weekly. Instead, once a month a priest comes from Zaragosa, a nearby community (nearby...supposedly, I'll explain). Well, on a week in which no priest was coming, I instead decided to walk to mass with my 'abuela.' This lady is well into her 80s, but walks to church every week--she refuses to take the bus. I don't know how she does it, because the walk to Zaragosa was long, hot, and all uphill (and by uphill, I mean steep. . steep uphill climbing). The only thing that kept me going was the fact that if my 'abuela' was walking, so could I. The church service was well worth the trip, however. The lecture focused on planting seeds--a topic especially appropriate for the Salvadoran campesino. Actually, we are all a little like farmers. We must work to spread our seeds of kindness, compassion, and everything that is representative of the good in the world. I also couldn't help but chuckle when a tiny old man, after staring at me for quite some time, was unable to tell his faithful dog that he had to wait outside during mass. Needless to say, his dog attended mass that day. On the trip back home, which was only slightly easier, we passed by a new development that the owner of a nearby finca is building. I really wanted to peek in the house and see what it looked like, from the outside it was constructed like many Polish homes--a red roof, white exterior. After I approached the house, the security guard watching the property popped up out of nowhere and offered to take me inside (there are 'vigilantes' here everywhere, and always with a gun of some sort). Inside, the house was tiled, had 3 small bedrooms, a living-dining room area, and a nice kitchen--its value, $70,000. Who can afford a $70,000 home among the communities I have visited here? No one. My papá joked that I could buy a house like that and come to live in El Salvador in the future. I would much rather live with my friends in La Florida.

3) I can dance El Torito. Every Saturday, besides for teaching English, I have also helped Conchi teach Salvadoran folkloric dances to the community's niñas in preparation for Karen's arrival from England. And, the day of the celebration for Karen, I put on one of the beautiful and traditional Salvadoran dresses (dresses that are beige in color with colorful ribbons sewn onto the skirt's ruffles and shirt's neckline) and danced the Torito in front of my entire community. I have no pictures from that day, but I am sure I provided great entertainment--just imagine a giant-like female gringa dancing among small Salvadoran girls to the rhythmic beat of El Torito. An added bonus, there was a little 'torito' (the smallest niña) who chased us around throughout certain parts of the song. The community of La Florida was really excited for Karen's return. She has lived in solidarity with them for 5 years and is one of the primary founders of IPES. What Karen has done is amazing. She's effected real, physical change. I will also try to do whatever I can, even if this means only generating more awareness. Another interesting fact, Karen is building a house now in La Florida, and it is really interesting--definitely one-of-a-kind. Her home is the shape of a circle and the plan for her home is a symbol for a mix between heaven and earth. The plan for the materials and structure of the house comes from Brazil and a permaculture institute there. The best part of this project, however, has been the amount of community involvement. Everyone has shared their opinions concerning how to best construct the roof or the 'servicio' (the outdoor bathroom I helped build!) or the windows--basically, help has come for anything and everything.

4) Sugar. I think I will feel deprived of sugar back in the U.S. With my tea in the mornings or my atole, I think each drink has about 3 spoons of sugar. My favorite type of atole, a milky and sugary hot drink, is made from corn and the best place to buy this atole is within the Santa Tecla market, a dark building in which you can find fruit, meat, fish, clothes, pirated CDs--really almost anything. My second favorite, made from 'qwacker' as Elisa says. . .meaning Quaker. .comes in various flavors. And, I cannot forget my new favorite 'dulce.' After going to cut 'cocos' with Leo a few days ago, he cut the 'carne' from the coconuts and Elisa and I then grated the 'carne' into small pieces. Then, with what they call 'panela,' which I think is similar to caramel, Elisa mixed the carne, sugar, and panela. Four hours later, the 'conserva de coco' was ready. It's quite a hit here at the Crispaz office, too!

5) Multiplaza and shopping. A few weeks ago, I went with Karen to the largest mall I have ever seen--maybe a little smaller than the Mall of America in Minnesota. Living in the U.S. all of my life--surrounded by stores--has really made going to stores here. . .or walking through the store aisles of grocery stores...really exciting. I think that's really pathetic, I don't even need to buy anything, walking and looking is sufficient. Multiplaza is a towering, cube-like structure of orange buildings that houses Rampage, Kenneth Cole, Guess, etc. And to think that that very morning I was picking loroco. I was suddenly surrounded by luxury, posh cafés, and by very well-off Salvadorans. I was shocked by the price of things there. We bought a digital camera for IPES, and its price was double the price of this same Canon Powershote camera in the U.S. I, therefore, have come to the conclusion that families here that are rich must be very, very rich. How else could they afford things here? Another thing, while at Multiplaza, Karen and I were both looked upon as the 'privileged' shopper. I am frustrated by this view, a view that suggests that because of my skin color, my hair, my eyes, and my height I'm someone special. I don't feel like anyone special at all.

6) Marcha por la paz (March for Peace). Last week, Zaragosa held a march for peace. Beginning around 8:45am, I began to march with Leo and Cristina and marched throughout the city until about 11am. There have been about 4 deaths, weekly, in Zaragosa as a result of gang violence, so this march was a very important demonstration of solidarity. The priest from Zaragosa spoke about peace as a human right and signs simply stated, "Walk for peace, walk for life." 'La canción de los niños'--the very same song Gina is teaching her students--was also sung by Zaragosa's youngest niños. The song speaks about peace from the perspective of children. Gangs have personally threatened the life of my 'primo,' so much so that he now is living in hiding, and he's only 15 or 16! What does the government here do? Nothing substantial, the 'mano dura' really does nothing at all.

What I have learned here is that living in solidarity with others is no easy task and it does not get easier as time evolves. It is not easy because as my eyes open more and more, I realize how different certain aspects of my life are from those around me.

To close this note, all I can say...I'm really going to miss El Salvador...

As I look over my journal entries for the past month, so many of my perceptions concerning El Salvador have changed. I may still--and will forever--be a gringa, but I am now not only a visitor in La Florida, but a part of my community. I have had my fair share of frustrations, doubts, and uncomfortable moments, but as I look back upon my experiences here, all I can do is smile. And to think I only have a few more days left with my Salvadoran family makes me sad. Elisa, who I have spent all of my days with, following her around as if I was her shadow, has become my best friend here in El Salvador. Despite our differences and despite my rudimentary Spanish, we have shared stories, cooked together, played soccer, sung Rebelde songs (after she copied the lyrics for me), and even went to a Tiziano Ferro concert in San Salvador. While we were at a church's youth group meeting yesterday and she was asked who her best friend is, she simply stated that since I have been here, I have become her closest companion.

But, to begin from where I last left off. Throughout the month of July, I finally had a more specific role with IPES. The focus in July was the selection of seeds, in practice, and the role and impact of MNC in El Salvador--more specifically, their effect on Salvadoran campesinos. My job was to speak about the economy and MNC. I have to say, the first time I spoke was terrible. We were in San Ramon--where I also managed to step into a ditch filled with mud, after I thought I was so cool for having crossed the river without falling in--and I had prepared a massive amount of notes, but, because of the community's intense stares, I was too afraid to look at my notes. So, what did I do? I babbled and who knows if anyone understood what I said because I definitely didn't understand what I was saying. Another problem I encountered, not everyone knew what an empresa multinacional, or MNC, was. I did get better, however. Throughout the month, I became more animated (very important here, especially when explaining things) and started small. After defining what a market is--more or less, I spoke about MNCs, subsidies, economic growth and 'remesas,' and how MNCs that sell seeds, herbicides or pesticides really serve to increase the dependency of farmers on their products. An interesting topic, really, and who would have ever thought that I would be learning--and then educating others--about these things!

I also want to write about public schools in El Salvador. I don't understand them. School buildings--buildings in general--seem to be empty all of the time and are painted blue and white, are small, and offer classes from grades K-9 (though at different times of the day). Sometimes classes, which are normally around 4 hours long, are randomly cancelled, or teachers fail to show up. Sometimes students don't go because they have to work at home, it is raining too hard, or they can no longer afford school. Yes, public education here is not free. Not only do they pay to attend school, uniforms and books are also the financial responsibility of the students. In my family, the same math book that Elisa used while she was studying is now being used my Leo and Miguel.

Another topic: maquilas. There are two large maquilas in Santa Tecla. One is owned by Chinese, the other by Koreans. Conchi, one of the promotores at IPES and the director of Arco Iris (the children's program I help out with), used to work in one of these maquilas. Filled with about 300 workers, her starting salary was $84-15 days. The starting salary now is $74-15 days. The majority of the workers in her maquila were women. 30 minutes for lunch, asking permission to go to the bathroom, few water breaks, 10-12 hour days, no talking, expected to complete about 100 shirts per hour--it sounds like a new form of slavery. As Conchi tells me, most women--all the workers, actually--do not work in maquilas willingly, they do not want to submit themselves to the 'system' (as she calls it), but it is often their only option. They may be single. They may be responsible for their family's income. Whatever reason they have, workers faint daily and without good ventilation, dust from the fabrics leaves workers coughing. And here, leaving at 5:30am and returning home at 7pm means that the entire day has passed--for a mother, her children are growing up without her presence. You might argue that her work is supporting the family, but I doubt her meager salary does much more than cover the doctor's bills she acquires or her transporation fees to and from work. . . not to mention the money she spends on meals.

Okay, time for bed, more updates to come tomorrow!

I will tell you something, I now have a torn feeling when I come into the city. I love going into San Salvador so I can relax, use the internet, chat with the Sippies, and speak English!!, but I feel like I am separating myself from my Salvadoran family in La Florida. When I am here, I miss my Spanish conversations about food, plants, fruits, corn, and . . . nature. I have gone to pick loroco twice now with my family, too, and picking out the good beans with Elisa is always fun. And, you know what else, I'm not so afraid of the bathroom (during the day)! The shade, trees, corn, winding paths, and people--most importantly--inspire me. With IPES, I have also gone to see communities with houses made with little more than plastic, cardboard, wood, and clay. Houses that are seemingly encompassed by clutter, but I have learned that this clutter--these things that most U.S. citizens would throw away--all serve a purpose and are beautiful in their own right. I still wish I knew how to make things better.

I like this passage from Philippians 4:8, "Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things." Such powerful words, and there is so much I look over without even a passing glance. Being here in El Salvador has started to change that. When I write in my journal nowadays, I sit on a rock in the monte, surrounded by corn fields, and I just try to write about everything while observing my surroundings. The corn has grown so large since I first came, closer and closer to harvest time; the small rivers have flooded from the amount of rain we have had; and, the fruit trees are always filled with so many different types of fruit. Just imagine rolling hills, winding dirt paths, coconut trees, and sitting on a huge rock, while being able to see the sun shining over everything. And, although I don't feel right writing about everything here that I put into my actual journal, what my Salvadoran family and many community members suffered during the war--from being displaced, tortured, repressed, etc.--is a level of brutality and injustice that no one should ever have to suffer. "Ésta es mi gente." These words, spoken by Archbishop Romero to his fellow campesinos, including Antonia, are words that stick in my head, and I pray that I can share what I have learned with my family in the U.S., my friends, my school. . .and everyone I meet. As a poem about solidarity states, "Mantener siempre los oídos al grito de dolor de los demás y escuchar su pedido de socorro ... es solidaridad."

On a lighter note, I'll also tell you a funny story. The bus rides here are very interesting, like I've mentioned before. Never have I had to take the bus in the rain, though, and last week it started to rain really hard when I reached Santa Tecla. For nearly 2 hours, I waited under a store's roof with about 10 other bus riders while the streets flooded and sidewalks disappeared under the water. Well, after waiting for so long and it was still raining, I went running through the street to find my next stop and proceeded to take the last bus in the wrong direction. Money and time wasted! However, thanks to some kind bus riders, they yelled to the driver to let me off, so I went running through the rain. . again. .to find the right bus. I am now an expert bus rider!

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Interesting Facts about Salvadoran tradition-beliefs:
females having their period should not eat watermelon or piña; strong stares directed at a baby are harmful; birth control pills can help plants grow; forming a cross out of ashes near gutters can help prevent strong rain; (my personal belief) empanadas are the best food ever, they are made with a crushed banana masa before an atole-like mixture. . . atole is milky and sugary. . .is folded inside the masa, kind of like a pierogi, they are then served with sugar!
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And, just in case you have ever wondered how oranges in El Salvador are picked, I will tell you. The orange trees in La Florida are not located in flat areas and because the oranges are high up in the tree, Elisa and my 'prima' Cristina both climbed a tree so that they could then toss the oranges to me. I then tossed them into a bag. I was amazed to see these two women climb branches that are rather thin, but I guess relatively strong! The oranges they picked are so sweet and they are juicier and more delicious than any other orange I have ever tried in my life.

I've also gone to help Leo and Elisa pick coconuts, and that is an experience to never forget. Actually, I was more of a spectator--as always--but it was a cool experience anyway. After walking uphill, very close to IPES, we turned onto a dirt path that led to the coconut tree Leo was to climb. These trees are really tall and what Leo did was climb it, kind of like a bear (although I really don't even know if bears climb trees, but that's how I would describe his climbing). Then, he knocked the coconuts down with his feet. Coconuts are delicious, like everything here, and there are actually two distinct parts to the coconut, the juice and the carne ('meat,' which is really not meat but more the white part of the coconut).

I better get going to bed, but I just wanted to say that I really enjoy myself in La Florida and despite the constant language barrier and my frustrations with the politics and economics of El Salvador, I love 'platicando' with my familia about anything and everything--extraterrestrials with Leo and large rivers with Felipe--and just moving through the day in a kind of slow, yet continually eye-opening way. I continue to get flustered about how I feel about globalization, capitalism, privatization, and the role of the U.S. in Latin America and, specifically, in El Salvador. I hope I can sort these things out. So much more time remains and yet, at the same time, there is not enough time for me to truly get to know everyone and about everything that I would like to. Everyday I learn something, and what will happen when I go back to the U.S.? Will I forget things? I never want to forget--anything.


I miss and love everyone back in Ohio, as well as my friends and family in other parts of the U.S. and other parts of the world. I think of you always.

xoxo. . Muchos besos y abrazos
Kristina

El Salvador is beautiful. I have now been in El Salvador for 5 weeks, and I continue to be amazed by the beauty of this small country. The green fields and mountains from one perspective and the busy streets of San Salvador from another, all of El Salvador intrigues me. Although the 'zancudos' have now launched a full-fledged attack upon me--my elbows, neck, fingers, and ankles are now covered in bites--and I am so incredibly itchy all of the time, my time in the campo is well worth it. Let me warn you, since I haven't had time to write in this journal for a few weeks, this entry and the next one are going to be long. Since I last left for La Florida, I have done a lot of listening and learning, and one thing that continues to amaze me is my Salvadoran family's patience and willingness to not only talk to me, but to give, especially when their material possessions are not that plentiful. It contrasts the way I act sometimes, too. Here, not only do I rely on my family for everything, but Elisa and Marcial, my Salvadoran 'hermanos,' have even given me their favorite (and very beautiful) necklaces so that I can always remember them. They are so thoughtful and I am taking to heart the things I see and learn from their words and actions. I will never forget them.

Elisa, my 'primo´ Leo, and my entire Salvadoran family have also taken it upon themselves to educate me about El Salvador. For example, Leo has gone through an entire picture dictionary showing me the different animals, fruits, and insects here. Who ever knew there was more than one type of mango?! In addition, he's teaching me how to play soccer and although it is a 10 minute walk through the monte to the cancha (soccer field), I am determined to learn how to run with a soccer ball. Then, at the community church service, I was asked to read the second reading, and I was so happy to be asked to participate--to take part in something within La Florida. The reading focused on never losing sight of the fact that God does not abandon anyone. When I reflect on times like these, it makes me sad to think that I only have 5 more weeks to be humbled, to learn, and to experience things here in El Salvador. It's a funny feeling, because sometimes I feel so frustrated that I'm not doing something more concrete here, and yet what else is more important than learning from the people here about their lives, about El Salvador. And, the more that I am here, especially when I smell the wood burning in the kitchens and when I see the chickens and crops, I think about Poland and my family there. I have never taken a particular interest in its human rights, economic or political situation, but I'm now very interested. Why is it always that you don't cherish things enough when you have them at your fingertips, but more so when they are gone, or not in your presence?

I am so much more integrated into my community now, and although I still feel awkward a lot, I am more confident in myself. After helping Salvadora, my other 'hermana,' with Arco Iris, a children's program for the La Florida community, I have even decided to try teaching English classes every Saturday morning. I am given so much here and I want to do something in return--to give something back. I wish, for example, that I could somehow help my family's youngest daughter, who is working in the U.S. to support her family. Unfortunately, I do not have the abiity to solve many of my family's or community's problems. A lot of the work I do do here is to work with my hands. I continue to attempt to cook with Elisa (and I am now really good at making pupusas and making significant process with the tortillas!) and I have even heaved barrels of dirt to help my mamá remodel her stove (estofa). The stove, which was too wide for my mamá, was partially destroyed by my mamá and we then mixed tierra blanca, cemento, and H20 so we could remodel it. The focus in the campo is definitely not on businesses, on computers or relegating work to others. And, I never thought I would encounter this problem, but I do not really have time to read a lot, or even write. Instead, I am constantly surrounded by people and conversation. However, I wouldn't want it any other way. I spend hours with Elisa, while making cards by hand, and we talk about everything. She explains things and laughs at me (especially when I explained that I would never dye my hair again, but instead of hair said horse). Going back to the cards. . .Elisa has been thinking about selling the cards she makes--they are really neat--so I am going to bring cards back with me to the U.S.

About two weeks ago, after attending the same community mass in La Florida that I spoke at, I also learned that the mountains right across from La Florida were a battleground during the war. I was even more shocked when I watched Voces Inocentes. All I have to say is, watch this movie if you can. It relates the story of a 12-yr old boy during El Salvador's civil war. Watching what many children experienced on a daily basis--from forcefully being recruited by the fuerza armada to watching their friends die to hiding on rooftops to avoid being taken from their families to witnessing the destruction of their homes--was learning about the war from a child's perspective. There is a song that is played during this movie, too, and its lines describe the cardboard houses that many Salvadorans called home. And, in reality, the average home today is hardly better. A question that I am asked a lot here is, "So, what do you think about El Salvador's political situation?" My answer, as always, is inadequate. My mission, therefore, is to come up with a better answer. Here is what I have come up with so far. The political situation in El Salvador is really only benefiial to those individuals who are already well-off. It is a country supported by remittances. It is a country controlled by corporations. For the campesino and for the family who lives on practically nothing, they lack the ability to really effect change. That is a start to my answer, but I hope that God can help me so that my work in the future--as well as now--can act to promote change, however small it may be.

On a lighter note, I would just like to say that I am learning how to cook. . . Salvadoran style. My diet here is mostly beans, rice, fruit, and tortillas (a lot of tortillas!), and I am on a mission to help Elisa in the kitchen. I have tried making tortillas twice and though I dropped my first tortilla on the ground, and all of my tortillas are lumpy and not circular, they are getting better! I have also done a lot better in helping Elisa, her aunt, and grandmother make tamales. They're a lot of work, in which, first, there is dough from corn that you place on a banana leaf, then you place some chicken, beans, papas, and yellow seasoning inside before rolling everything together (but only rolling in a specific way). These tamales were made for the celebration my family had for St. Anthony. Tamales are usually made for special occasions and this celebration was special indeed. After saying the rosary together with my family and some community members, my abuelo (grandfather) stated that despite race, sex, etc., we are all the same. We must all help one another and live in unity...in peace. Simple words, yet words whose acts are not easily accomplished. At this celebration, I introduced myself and although I am still the white, odd-looking and odd-sounding 'gringa,' I was honored to be present at this gathering. I was and am repeatedly awed by their way of life. What I mean is, though they live simply, priorities are not placed so much on things, but on people and giving thanks to God for all they have.

Well, I'm off to La Florida now, back to the campo. I send hugs and kisses to my friends and family back home, and know that you are all always in my thoughts and prayers.

In the campo, it's amazing to see the close-knit nature of families. Here, like everywhere, money still matters--people need to sustain themselves--but the emphasis is placed on human interaction. Usually up by 5am, there are no complaints about who will clean or do the cooking or go into the fields from my family. In fact, the degree of respect each person has for another is truly admirable. This is their 'reality,' as one of the community members at a training session on organic farming recently stated. Their reality is harsh. Aluminum houses, dirt floors, dirt-clay walls...dirt, dirt, dirt. It is no way for people to live. I observe these things, as if walking through a museum, but real people live in such conditions. As the IPES truck passed through Los Monos a few days ago, I was even informed--by Miguel and Daniel, two members of the Permaculture Institute--that many houses in the area are constructed with plastic. How can that be, when during the drive to this community, I passed houses prettier than those I have seen in the U.S.? I get to leave El Salvador and return to the luxuries I take for granted--like showers, running water--but the people I have met do not. The images of beautiful mountains and land will forever contrast the vivid images of the dirt and metal of the houses I see all over El Salvador.

And yet, just like my Salvadoran family, the people I have met in the communities IPES visits to educate farmers about the benefits of organic farming (instead of chemical pesticides that kill the land and have harmful effects on the health of many campesinos) have welcomed me with open arms. They are thankful that I am here to learn about their struggles and their country. For a little more about IPES, what it aims to do is combine theory with practice at its training sessions. June's topic, for example, concerns organic pesticides. IPES doesn't only show campesinos how to make an organic pesticide, but Miguel and Daniel also go into detail concerning why organic farming is truly beneficial for the plant, land, and one's health. At these sessions, I only listen for now, but I hope to start speaking next month. I'm trying to learn more about permaculture and, at the very least, I would like to take the advice of an Australian friend I recently met, and start a small and fun educational program for children about the benefits of caring for the environment. Because, children are often in the fields, doing the same work their parents do. I am also working with the women's group, too.

The hardest aspect about living in the campo for me so far, however, has been knowing how to best interact with the families and people whose lives were permanently changed because of El Salvador's civil war, which the U.S. exacerbated by providing training, funding, and arms to the very government that used these things to torture and kill so many innocent people. When people tell me their stories, of which there are so many, I do not know what to say. I cannot say anything that is truly appropriate. . . that is right. I do not understand what it would be like to live in the mountains, in hiding, as one woman told me, a woman who delivered one of her children in the mountains and watched another one die from starvation. I cannot say anything to Elisa, my 'sister,' when she tells me that, as a 10-yr old, she was already cooking for her family, because her papa, Felipe, was in jail being tortured, and her mama, Antonia, was either looking for her him or trying to provide for the family. It is even harder to talk to my papa, Felipe, as he tells me his stories. I am from the U.S. and I feel responsible. I feel like crying, but I do not. There is no sympathy for the U.S. here--from the families I have met and talked to--and yet, as Felipe has mentioned, the one option many see for rising from poverty is to try to find work in the U.S. It's an interesting dynamic in that the U.S. is both the enemy and the land of opportunity. The American dream is even present in El Salvador. I thank God for the less serious conversations I have had with Elisa about life in the U.S. (how schools are different, time change, growing up, etc), because I have realized that there is only so much serious conversation I can process well. I do not want my actions or words to be taken offensively. I need to open my heart more. I am overwhelmed because I do not have a solution for the disparity that continues today in El Salvador. And, as my papa repeats, his voice rising to emphasize his point, 'el dinero y la fuerza son concentrados en pocas manos,' meaning money and power are concentrated in the hands of a few.

And so, a week has passed, and I returned to San Salvador for two nights so that the Crispaz Sippies (all of us volunteers, as we are called) could go and visit Cheryl who is living very close to Guatemala (Cara Sucia, I think). I cannot describe what I was feeling exactly, when I first arrived back at the Crispaz office, but I was and am truly happy to have had the opportunity to come back and talk to the other volunteers about their experiences. For the first time in what has felt like a long time, I am understood and I can speak normally. My tongue and voice has done some funky things this past week, as I have tried to communicate in Spanish. Living with my host family in La Florida has been truly wonderful, but I am not going to lie, it has been hard and often very frustrating.

I have taken Spanish classes for a long time and I have also studied some of the history and politics concerning El Salvador. Living in La Florida, however, I am surrounded by people who only speak Spanish, have lived through El Salvador's devastating war, are among family members, and are familiar with their surroundings. I am not. At least, that is how I felt the first few days in the campo. I have questioned myself, wondering what has brought me to this country, which is so foreign to me, which I often do not understand, and one in which my struggle to get a firm grasp on the Spanish language feels like climbing up a never-ending mountain. I could have stayed at home, but the truth of the matter is, I know I can do this. I just have to open my heart and learn to listen. . . a lot.

Let me take you through my initial feelings when coming to be with my Salvadoran family--Antonia (mi mama), Felipe (mi papa), Elisa, Salvador, Marcial, and two other children who do not live in the house. When I first came to La Florida, I was so intrigued by the beauty of my community. Close to Santa Tecla, La Florida is located in the mountains, and it is truly a beautiful area. There are so many trees and plants and fruits. I´m still learning the names of all of the plants, but I expect to learn. . . and quickly, because my family is a camepesino family, in which the cultivation of beans, corn, bananas, coconuts, pineapples, zapote, oranges, coffee, and so many other things is how they provide for themselves. On a daily basis, they tell me what different plants look like and I have tasted so much fresh fruit! Pineapples are my favorite. Despite this beauty, it is undeniable that despite the poverty in my own community, there are several very wealthy developments in the surrounding area. Before turning onto the dirt road leading to my home, you should see the houses. They are so enormous and the deep contrast between these mansions and the houses made of aluminum that are maybe 5-10 minutes away is incredible. I just don´t understand how the world works. . .how people think and act and live.

Moving on...after feeling incredibly awed by my surroundings, my next set of emotions were, and continue to be, a sense of awkwardness. My first night, as I entered the bathroom, which is on a block of concrete, so it requires you to climb these dirt-filled tires, I saw the largest cockroach in my life and was unable to use the bathroom. I am now over this fear, and have successfully managed to use my flashlight and go to the bathroom at 3am, but it still is so scary. What frustrates me here is that I don't know anything yet. I am like a child. Even the food I am given, which is incredible (!!), I often do not understand. I gave my family a good laugh when I first tried eating a mango (I didn't know how to peel it) and juca (a plant in which you can eat the root, I think). Awkwardness also enters the picture when I think back to the conversations I have had this week. How can I communicate and interact with my family, when the words I call forth from my head either do not come out, or the words that do come are nothing like what I pictured in my head. I know I need time and patience, but I just want to say so much. . . say the right things and at the right time.

To describe my house, it is a typical Salvadoran house, meaning the roof is made of aluminum and the floors are concrete. The kitchen, which was their first home after the 2001 earthquake, is made completely of aluminum, and uses a stove that is heated by firewood. It reminds me of the stove my grandfather had in Poland when he was still alive. I am often reminded of Poland here and when I see Elisa´s grandfather--who still works in the fields, even as an old man--it reminds me of my dziadek, and I'm almost moved to tears. Poland is so far away, and the environment here seems to be so different than anything I have experienced before, and yet in some ways, the life of a campesino reminds me of certain aspects of Poland. But, moving on, my room is large and it is separated into two, so one side is more like a living room, as there is a TV, and the other side is where I share a room with Elisa or Salvador. The house itself, because it is surrounded by so many trees, is very shady, and there is a lot of dirt, but as soon as you start walking on a path towards the corn fields, you see the mountains and so many plants. And, sometimes, when I am walking on the path to my house, I can even see the ocean behind the mountains. I miss flat land. . often, but it is a new experience here always--from walking to the Permaculture Institute where I work (which is a 20-minute walk uphill), to fertilizing plants planted on steep inclines, to walking downhill to take a bath in the 'mini'-river (surrounded by trees, there are 'pilas' that naturally fill with water). It's truly incredible. I still need to process everything that I am seeing and feeling and experiencing.

Well, it´s getting really late, so I´m going to end now, but I´ll write again early in the morning. . .before I use the buses all by myself, and travel back to my community.

I guess there is only one more thing I want to write tonight, and I will talk about this more in my next entry. I just finished One Day of Life, a novel about one day of life for a Salvadoran family in the 1980s, and I think the plight of the poor in El Salvador largely remains the same today.

'We live in poverty. We live with hunger and still they would like to exterminate us {...} Well, who is going to pick the cotton? Coffee beans? Clear the fields?'
'We are always like those players who lose. And to think we don't get tired.'

It is my last night here in San Salvador. I originally thought I was leaving today for the campo, but tomorrow is the big day. Today, it was Amelia and Paul who left to go and live with their families, and we all went to see where they will be living and working. Amelia will be staying in Baja Lempa, or something like that, while Paul is close to San Miguel, in Transito. The area that they will be in, like all of El Salvador, is hot, but I think that it is hotter than the normal hotness in San Salvador. Amelia`s working with a radio station in her community, while Paul will be working on some community development projects. It all sounds so interesting, and yet it is hard--at least for me--to simply communicate all that I want to say. Even more so, although I don`t do very much physical activity so far (I hear there is a steep hill that I will have to climb to get to my organization and then back down to my family), I am so tired all the time. I think it has something to do with the heat and switching between languages, all the time. I pray that I will have the energy to do all that I can for my family and community. To get back to my point,though, I think that it will be interesting to hear more about what we are all doing when we meet with Crispaz in the next few weeks.

Now, in this entry, I will try to finish what I started yesterday. First, I would just like to comment on two new observations I have made. First, my hair has a permanent windblown look to it. After riding in the back of the Crispaz pick-up, not only have I gotten a nice, funky tan, but my hair is wild! Second, the bus drivers here are crazy. The buses, which look like painted school buses, drive so incredibly fast and do not stop for anyone, not even for pedestrians. From what I understand, this is because their pay is based on how many people they pick up. So, besides for the actual bus driver, there are usually one or two men that literally grab riders and pull them into the bus so that the bus will not have to come to a complete stop, or will not have to stop for too long. I have respect for these buses, though, in the fact that they mean business. If you need to get somewhere, they will take you, dirt road or paved road or muddy road, these buses provide transporation. My only fear is that when I have to leave my community in La Florida, which is close to Santa Tecla, and come back to San Salvador by bus, I will not manage to change buses or find my way, because the street signs are not very visible. . at all. But, I`m ready for an adventure.

Speaking of adventure, my first weekend here, I visited El Espino, which is a very beautiful beach in El Salvador. Although I learned that you should never leave your open bookbag outside during rainy season in El Salvador, I also discovered that sleeping in a hammock right by the ocean (and just taking in all the beauty around you) is one of the simple pleasures of life. El Espino reminded me of a scene from a beach screensaver--palm trees, warm water, and beautiful mountains. I think that coming to the beach and, overall, learning about and seeing different parts of El Salvador have been good ways for me to come to understand the many aspects of Salvadorean or Salvadorian (I was spelling this word incorrectly before) culture and its present conflicts. When I go to my cmmunity tomorrow, I hope that I can better relate and interact with the people that I will be living and working with.

For example, I think of my visit to Just Garments. As the only unionized maquila in El Salvador, its efforts to secure fair pay and better benefits for its workers is remarkable. As I learned, the average family here makes around $150-month and, in order to live decently, the salary should be around $400-600-month. Families need to pay around $100 or more just for rent! At this maquila, I saw clothes that I myself would wear, clothes made by Ralph Lauren, Old Navy, Gap, etc. But, an interesting thing that I also learned was that Just Garments has not been contracted by these companies, but rather subcontracted by factories that cannot fulfill all of the requirements of their contracts, or something like that.

I also think about my visit to El Museo de la Palabra, a museum that displays various FMLN documents as well as pictures showing the devastating impact the civil war has had on families. One picture gallery especially interested me. It focused on the deaths resulting from La Operación Independencia, or something like this. A story that particularly touched my heart was one that speaks of a mother who would arrive at the same location on the street, either daily or every few days, while her husband in hiding would secretly ride his bike past his family so he could catch a glimpse of his wife and children. Like this story and so many others show, war is not only violent, but it separates you from your past and present. Everything changes, children are forced to become adults overnight and families are separated.

One area that Javier highlighted while we were still at the beach was that of the implications of the 1992 Peace Accords. Civil war in El Salvador did not result from cultural or religious discord, but more so from social inequality. The issue of land, for example, was highly disputed. The majority of the land remained in the hands of the few and powerful. Consequently, the peace settlement sought to redistribute the land. In my opinion, though, land redistribution often benefits larger businesses and-or land owners. For example, after the war, people with land owed large debts and the reality was that these famers would never really be able to pay off their debts. Many coffee plantations had also accumulated debts. As a result, the government of El Salvador proposed paying around 80 percent of the debt if farmers and-or owners would pay around 20 percent; the catch, the transaction had to be completed in one month. Realistically, poor farmers, who live on about 100 dollars/month, would not benefit. Another interesting aspect of this subject pertains to immigration. El Salvador may be regarded by some as a more stable, developing country, but it is largely funded by those who move to the U.S. and other parts of the world in order to then be able to send money back to their families here. So, what I found a bit overwhelming, but in some ways very true, was Javier`s statement about armed conflict in El Salvador. Salvadorians are tired of war and really want peace, but they also want justice, and many of the problems that existed prior to the war are still blatantly present. I guess only time will tell what will happen in El Salvador.

Well, I guess that`s it for now. I need to sleep and pack all my wet things (I cannot get the concept of washing my clothes here and not having them smell, or get wet again from the rain). I hope my family can help me. On a personal note, I miss my real family back home. I don`t know how to describe it, but my heart aches for them. It`s a lot easier for me to leave home now, but still so hard. I guess it`s all part of growing up and developing through my own experiences and life lessons.

I leave for my community with my favorite quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."

As I sit here in Crispaz´s conference room, which also serves as Paul´s bedroom and our dining room, I have started getting used to taking showers surrounded by insects (and here it is luxurious compared to the campos, so I hear), using the pila to wash our dishes (water turns off here around 9am), riding in the back of the pick-up, going to Café la T for the best coffee and food, and everything else I can´t remember right now, I know that it´s going to be bittersweet to move in with my familia next week. I´m ready to truly challenge myself, especially with my Spanish, but the atmosphere that everyone creates here at the Crispaz office is something I will also truly miss.

. . .time for bed, but more to come in the morning

At our reflection a few nights ago, we read a very beautiful poem by Roque Dalton, I believe. The poem focused on the struggles of life. Each one of us has our own unique battles, whether they are of a physical or mental type, and yet--ironically--we are all united by our strive to live, love, and be accepted. We all seek meaning. And, what I am realizing more and more, no one ever has to be alone.

This, in some ways, is how I feel about my trip to El Salvador. I am alone and I don´t even speak the language perfectly, I don´t even look the part, but I really am not alone. Sometimes I look at the young women here, who are selling pupusas or random items, women who belong to families that are living on barely anything, and I wonder what I would do in their shoes. I wonder how there can be so much inequality and injustice in the world. What is it that keeps each one of us going? And, then I think. . . it must be our strive to live, to be alive. This unifies us and, whether or not you believe in God, I believe God never leaves our side.

I, however, respect those that see the world not so much through my eyes, which always want more and are not easily satisified, but those who are content with themselves.

Well, that was deep, no?

Anyway, to comment on what else I have been up to. A few days ago, we met with Carlos from el Equipo de Maíz, an organization that began during the civil war and now gears its projects toward edcuating the Salvadorans about the importance of protecting the environment (El Salvador has a problem with garbage, pollution, etc., it doesn´t have any environmental protection laws), safe sex (sex is more a of a taboo subject, although it´s definitely not nonexistent), Archbishop Romero, and the history of El Salvador among other things. Using various pictures to engage audiences, in a little over two hours, his interesting presentation really painted a more vivid picture of El Salvador and the continuous struggle of the poor and marginalized for me. From my personal perspective, it seems like many Salvadorans are still taught to believe that the dire situations they may be born into are normal. In this way, they remain the voiceless people.

There is really so much sad history to El Salvador. That´s why Archbishop Romero was, and remains, such an important figure. He stood up for the voiceless, encouraging them to work towards peace and justice. Earlier in the week, I actually went to the cathedral in San Salvador where Romero is now buried. It is incredible to think what this man worked for. Though he was chosen to be archbishop--primarily--because he was believed to be so quiet and passive that he wouldn´t even notice if San Salvador was burning, or something to that effect, he was so much more powerful. He empowered and continues to empower those who often are voiceless, the poor. I cannot even describe what I felt praying at the church that Archbishop Romero was shot at in March 1980 and walking through his home. At this point, I am observing and absorbing so much that I can only hope that I will one day be able to make sense of everything that I am experiencing.

Everything happens for a reason, however, and a nun that we met at Archbishop Romero´s home said something simple, yet quite profound. She explained that things will not always make sense, but we should still strive to create our own path in life. As this tiny lady stated (and, she was soo small!), we are all different and should work to never conform, that is to say, never conform our thoughts and actions to one specific, uniform mold. Archbishop Romero never did, he remained steadfast in working for peace and justice. I wanted to kiss this tiny lady and I almost started crying. Humility and compassion, these are two of the goals, I should say expectations, I have now set for myself.

And, interesting fact. Father Romero was born on August 15.

Finally, I am starting this online journal. Let me tell you, it has taken some time to motivate myself to sit down and write about everything that I have been experiencing in El Salvador, but I know that it is important to remember as well as to let all of you know what I do here in this small, beautiful country.

Well, to start from the beginning (let me open my wet journal, I´ll explain that story in a little bit). I arrived in San Salvador about one week ago and, despite the drama of not knowing how to pack (yes, I did overpack--I definitely didn´t need 4 sweatshirts)and having a mini-breakdown when I finally thought about what I would be doing. . . spending 10 weeks in a foreign country and in a rural community, I am very happy to be here. It´s a funny thing, all the pressures of the U.S.--especially my concept of time and my priorities--have changed. Here, the importance lies in the relationships you form with people.

But, to get back to my trip. My first impression of El Salvador was its, well, hotness. Even in the airport, the heat affected me. There really is no wind, so the heat is just kind of there, all the time, until it randomly rains, either at night or during the day. It is rainy season in El Salvador right now, so as Elizabeth informed me today, the wind doesn´t really come until October. Anyway, after going through Customs, which was interesting in itself, as the guy who stamped my visa informed me (after asking me a million questions about what I was doing in El Salvador) that there were beaches named after me in La Libertad, the area I will be working in, I first met Javier and Nelson. Nelson is the Human Resources Coordinator at Crispaz, and Javier is the Rural Accompaniment Director. They are both such amazing people and have been very helpful throughout this first week in El Salvador. Nelson was holding this funny Crispaz sign and although he is thirty, he really looks like he is in his early 20s. He´s awesome. And, funny story, Nelson grabbed Paul and I so fast because the first volunteer to come, Amelia, actually left the airport with the wrong volunteer organization and realized this when she was already in the car.

Oh, us gringos, we really are a funny sight. Well, from the airport we went to Javier´s pick-up, which has been our primary means of transport throughout El Salvador. Riding in the truck and taking in the palm trees, people (so many people), the smell of gas, the mountains, and all the beauty of El Salvador, I really got a rush. I will be here for the next 10 weeks. I feel nervous, anxious, and I miss my friends and family, but I also strangely feel like I am in the right place.

Our first stop was a cocunut stand. Although I was a little afraid to drink from the coconut, because I don´t want to get sick (p.s. I already have, a little), I came to the realization that it will most likely happen, so I did and it tasted so good. A kind of watery, milky and sweet taste. From there, we arrived at the Crispaz office. Located in San Salvador, it reminds me of Mexico, as there is a gate that must be opened before entering, and inside, there are rooms mixed with small courtyards. Crispaz (www.crispaz.org), Christians Working for Peace in El Salvador, is the volunteer organization I will be working with here. I have been staying here with the other volunteers and my room is towards the back. I have to walk outside and then into my room, which I share with Gina, and it smells a lot like Off!, which is also what I smell like, all the time. It´s not a very good smell, but it keeps those bugs away. You know, I smell from sweat and my clothes from bug spray, but I wouldn´t trade being here for anything.

The most important thing I have encountered here so far are the people. Everyone has a story and all you have to do is listen.