I have updated the photo links to the pictures on facebook! All of the pictures are under the title links on the right side of the page. You should now be able to see all of our pictures even if you don’t have a facebook account. I also added pictures from our visit to the states and our trip to Panama!! Please let me know if you notice the link has expired again so I can keep it working!!!

Love&Miss,

Meli

On March 28^th I attended a World Cup Qualifying soccer game between El Salvador and the United States. It was quite possibly the most interesting and exciting experience I have had to date in country. The following post will give you a little background information to better understand the circumstances followed by the story of the game itself.

Passion

 The people of El Salvador live and breathe soccer. While other sports, such as basketball and baseball, are played in the country there is no sport that can rival the popularity, passion or love Salvadorans have for soccer. From a young age kids begin playing soccer and many men will continue to play for local community teams in to their 50s.

Soccer History

 Although El Salvador has never been known for producing strong national teams the current national selection is playing quite well. They have advanced to the final round of World Cup Qualifying, putting themselves only one step away from the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. They have only appeared in the World Cup twice, with the last appearance coming in 1982. Unfortunately that glory was short lived when they set a World Cup record by losing 10-1 in the tournament opener.

On the other side of it, The United States selection has appeared in the last 5 World Cups and in recent years has consistently appeared in the top 25 of the FIFA World Rankings. Needless to say the Gringos were heavy favorites coming into the match.

A Brief Bit On Country Relations

 El Salvador has a unique relationship with the United States. Many different factors have shaped and influenced our current relationship. However, the two largest would undoubtedly be the civil war and immigration. While much could be said about both matters, I will give you a very brief explanation of both.

From 1980 to 1992 El Salvador was engaged in a brutal civil war. Rebel groups clashed with the US backed Salvadoran government for 12 years. In the 92 Peace Accords the rebel renounced themselves as a fighting force and became a recognized political party, quickly become the second most popular party in the country. The US backed party went on to hold the presidency for the next 17 years, until finally falling out of favor in the most recent 2009 elections.

Many statistics show that roughly 20% of the Salvadoran population currently lives outside of its borders with the majority of those living in the United States, both legally and illegally. It has also been noted that roughly 15-20% of the country’s GDP can be accredited to the money pumped into the country by Salvadorans living abroad.

Due to these factors American influence, both good and bad, has found its way into many aspects of Salvadoran culture. Subsequently making this game a very big deal for Salvadoran futbol fans

 The Game

 I had been told by many people that for safety reasons I would need to wear and El Salvador Jersey, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this. It’s not that I don’t wish this country well, if they were facing any other team I would have been proud to sport the blue and white jersey. But we are talking about my country, my homeland, the United States of America. It just didn’t feel right to support the opposition, even if it was just a jersey. When I shared these feelings with other people some told me I was too competitive, that I needed to calm down and it was just a game. I quickly dismissed those notions, because we all know that people only say that because they themselves were never good at anything, haha.

After much inter-turmoil and debate I eventually heeded the advice of others and put on the El Salvador jersey. After all, these were going to be the same fans that only a few weeks back had forced FIFA (international soccer’s ruling body) to impose a $25,000 fine on the country’s soccer federation. Besides, I had never have really been a fan of having a warm cup of pee being hurled at me from 10 rows back.

Upon entering the stadium I was very much overwhelmed. At a maximum capacity of roughly 35,000, Stadium Cuscatlan is a rather small venue when compared to a large college football stadium stateside. However, nothing about it felt small. That may have had something to do with the fact that 34,900+ fans were Salvadoran and a good percentage were drinking. Needless to say the energy in Cuscatlan was electric, and enough to get any sports fans heart racing.

After finding a seat, I quickly realized what a good decision I had made by sporting the El Salvador jersey. Upon entering the stadium, Salvadoran or not, if you weren’t wearing team colors you were immediately barraged with empty cups and any other sort of garbage fans could find laying around. As if that wasn’t enough, the fans would then begin to point and chant “Culeado” (a derogatory term for a homosexual) at them until the next victim walked into the stadium. There is something very shocking about the political incorrectness of thirty some thousand people chanting that word. Oh, and by the way… that word was not just reserved for non blue and white supporters. It was also chanted at the riot police that lined the field, International FIFA officials, and the three game officials who would oversee the game.

So there we were, our group of American gringos sporting Salvadoran jerseys, most likely assumed to be Europeans, we were for the most part…safe. However, my sense of security left as quickly as it came when our National Anthem began to play. As the entire stadium turned their back to the field, many of them raising their middle fingers (yes, it means the same thing in Spanish), our cover had been blown. Surprisingly we didn’t take too much flack, probably because we stood respectively forward-facing through the Salvadoran anthem that followed.

When the game started the energy level in the stadium tripled. The fans began chanting “Sí Se Puede” meaning “yes you can” as if to remind the players that they needed to at least try. This chant demonstrated how much of and underdog they believed themselves to be. While the US dominated possession they clearly weren’t playing with a lot of energy, especially on the offensive end of things. In the 17^th minute El Salvador found the back of the net with one of their few shots on goal. What happened next was a surreal experience. It was as if a bomb had gone off, like in an action movie. It was so loud that it was almost quiet and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Shirts came off, towels were waved and fences were climbed. There was not a full cup in the stadium, as everyone had tossed their drink up in celebration, causing it to rain down beer for a solid 15 seconds. Everyone was on cloud nine, except for me and few other gringo friends. My heart sank, the unlikely goal was more surprising than when I found out Ty Pennington and Ryan Seacrest were actually two different people (who knew?).

The game got back underway and the American team still seemed to lack the energy and drive to do what needed to be done. After 55 more minutes of lack luster play by the Americans, El Salvador struck again, this celebration rivaled that of the first, it now seemed that victory was imminent for the Salvadorans and the energy could be felt through out the celebration, which drug on much longer than the first.

After order had been restored play started again and with it came that typical behavior of faking injury in order to slow the pace of the game. While it is a tactic used worldwide it is notoriously common with Latin teams and its something you will never find written about the next day in the paper. Unfortunately for the Salvadoran team, these frustrating actions only seemed to light a fire under the Americans which absolutely dominated the final 20 minutes, scoring two goals to force a 2-2 tie.

With the second goal by the Americans the stadium reacted as if though someone had just dropped kicked a puppy into the back of a net instead of a ball. It was dead silent, no one muttered a word, hands covered mouths, seats were kicked, there was something very eerie about the silence. A few seconds later I pumped my fist in the air and grinned from ear to ear. It was a reaction that drew several middle fingers as well as some colorful language. However, fortunately for me everyone was still in extreme shock, and for the most part I was ignored.

With a great chance on goal in the final minutes, the US almost pulled off an impossible come from behind victory, unfortunately that shot never found the back of the net and the game ended in a 2-2 draw. While not the ideal outcome, all things considered I was content with the tie and happy to have made it through the game unharmed.

When the game ended we quickly left the stadium. Shouts and jeers in both Spanish and broken English were being hurled in our direction so we thought it best to choose that particular moment to exit the stadium.

Outside a sea of blue shirts, heavy with emotions, wandered off into the night unsure whether to be happy with the draw against a superior team or upset to have let a potentially historic victory slip through their fingers. The following morning the front page headline read “We Had It.”

-Ross

The quinceañera is the celebration of a young girl’s fifteenth birthday but it means so much more than turning fifteen, it signifies her transformation into womanhood. The quinceañera is not only a Latino tradition; some cultural equivalents include the Bar Mitzvah for Jewish boys and girls, the sweet sixteen, and the debutante ball.

The details of a quinceañera vary from country to country as well as in urban and rural areas. The majority of the quinceañeras I have attended have been thrown by families with an average monthly income of $150-$250. I know this because I know the monthly income of every family in our village from the census I completed 8 months ago. With this said these families are not throwing extravagant parties. The amount of people invited and the type of food varies from party to party but the one thing that is certain to be extravagant is the dress. The dress is typically a shade of pink but more modern quinceañeras have all different colors including blue and green. The dress is usually the most expensive item necessary for the party. I have asked on separate occasions the significance of the quinceañera compared to a wedding and they tell me the quinceañera is much more important, mostly because it is certain to happen whereas a wedding is not.

I recently attended a quinceañera of a student of mine who is financially better off than most of her classmates. I was able to learn what quinceañeras are like outside of the campo where we live.  Her court was made up of 14 young women and 14 young men, all dressed in specially made clothing. She had hired a videographer, 2 photographers, a dj, and an event planner. She changed her dress 3 times. The men and women of her court were required to attend dance practice for 3 months in preparation for the big day and about two hundred people were in attendance.  

Here are some pictures of the birthday girl

The ceremony began with the birthday girl and her escort leading in the court of honor while the guests were already seated. They were introduced one by one until everyone including the person who made the dresses had a moment in the spotlight. The father and daughter had their dance followed by the daughter and her escort. Then the dances of the court began. There was the traditional dance with champagne and the dance of roses but this very special quinceañera included another hour and a half of choreographed dancing, some of it to Salvadoran music and some to American music.

 After the dancing came the gifts. The birthday girl was showered with presents until everything she had been wearing was replaced with something new. She sat while someone removed her sandals and replaced them with a new pair. Her earrings, necklace, bracelet and ring were all removed and replaced with new shiny gold, even her fake roses were replaced with real ones. Finally her tiara was placed upon her head signifying her transformation into womanhood was complete. At this time everyone attending her party formed a line and handed her their gift. The table was quickly filled and the family moved loads of gifts into a basket to make more room. During the ceremony the attendees were served chicken sandwiches while the court enjoyed a catered meal. The cake reminded me of my wedding cake with multiple levels, except it was much larger and there were two of them. The rest of the night was spent sweating on the dance floor.

All of the quinceañeras I have attended have been identical to this one in regards to the ceremony but everything else is downsized. Usually less than 20 people are invited and there is never enough cake to feed them. Usually there is no court, only an escort. There is no dj, no photographer, no videographer. I asked a Salvadoran friend if she thought this quinceañera was typical and she laughed. She said for those in the city yes, but not for us pobrecitos. To explain how this fancy quinceañera was given in our poor little village, the girls mother lives in the United States and sent the money home to fund the party.

This last picture cracks me up because this is how they take pictures here. They are laughing and smiling and then you take the picture and get this. I don’t know how they do it. This is a picture of me with my closest girl friends in the community, although from this picture you wouldn’t guess they were my friends at all. It is just another cultural difference that they won’t smile for pictures.

-Meli

Lets talk about alcohol and El Salvador…shall we? There is only one mindset about drinking in El Salvador, at least here in the campo anyway. If you are seen drinking, you are obviously drunk. If you are drunk, you must be that way all the time, there for a beer with dinner would make you an alcoholic, or as they say a “bolo.” This rule applies to everyone accept to yourself, of course.

In reality, there are all different types of drinkers in El Salvador. The realm spans from non-drinkers to the binge-drinking alcoholic. The social drinker that occasionally has a one or two week bender would fall somewhere in the middle. However, because of the aforementioned stereotypes surrounding drinking, much of this part of the culture is very hush hush.

Now that I have given you the basic run down on drinking in El Sal I want to talk about the true honest to goodness “bolo.” These are the ones that have drank themselves into a permanent stupor and are so far gone they probably can’t even remember their full name. There are all different types of bolos; angry bolos, sleepy bolos, happy bolos, begging bolos… just to name a few. I think the type of bolo depends one their current situation, which revolves around one thing…when was their last drink.
While bolos come in many different shapes and sizes I would describe the average bolo as follows. They enjoy sleeping near and or on the road. Shoes, shirt and teeth are optional. Belts? Who needs em, most use rope in their place. There are never to proud to beg, usually asking for a quarter. Encountering a gringo may very well be the highlight of their day. I’m not sure what or if they eat. Their ears and noses are often bloodied from passing out on concrete. They urinate in public, but then again so do most Salvadoran men. They smell worse than anything you can imagine. I would guess that they range in age from 25-60. They absolutely love to interrupt any sort of meeting you may be in. Like most Salvadoran men they often wield machetes, however are often physically to incapable to present any real danger with it.The following is a picture from a training session we had last July that was interrupted by the young man who is seen sleeping in the photo. His attendance caused quite a stir in the meeting. However, the commotion didn’t last long, as he fell asleep shortly after taking his seat.

While sometimes providing very humorous circumstances the bolo situation is actually quite tragic. I have no idea the life span of a bolo, but I can’t imagine it to be very long after entering the permanent drunk stage. A volunteer friend of mine witnessed one of his local bolos puking up blood in the road, then watched his funeral procession pass the same spot two days later. One can only imagine the physical toll that it must take on a person’s body as well as the emotional toll is has on friends and family.

I don’t really have any definite reason as to why someone becomes a bolo. Like most social problems, I assume it can be chalked up to the often tragic circumstances of living in an impoverished and underdeveloped country. 

So if you are ever passing through El Salvador and you see a shoeless and bloody eared man laying in the run-off water on the side of the road and you find yourself asking “is this normal?” the answer is yes, unfortunately.

-Ross

So you know when you were a little kid and your crazy uncle used to steal your nose at every family event? Did you ever think it was real? I mean did you ever freak out or cry because you thought your nose had really been stolen? I have been thinking about it a lot lately and I don’t think I ever bought in to that joke but maybe I did and I was too young to remember. While we were spending Christmas Eve with a local family, Ross decided to pull this trick out on the four year old boy, Brando. There were no words used just a quick popping noise and the confused boy starring at Ross like he was an idiot. Then Ross told the boy to come look because he had his nose. I have never seen a little boy more scared than at that moment. He was terrified. He kept looking in Ross’ hand at this thing that was his nose. Then he started feeling his face to see if his nose was really gone. He remained unconvinced after feeling it on his face and ran out of the room. He quickly returned with a chair and scooted it over in front of the mirror. He jumped up to have a look; he saw his nose in the mirror but was still uncertain. He pushed it from side to side, up and down, and then turned to look in Ross hand another time. Then he ran to his mom and started crying, he wouldn’t go near Ross. We explained to him that it was a joke and I think he understood but he was worried for the rest of the night that someone was going to steal his nose again.

World AIDS Day turned out to be a great success and I hear I am somewhat famous for the dance moves I pulled out in the parade that later ended up on television. All the planning and charlas were worth it to see my community come together to celebrate the day. I truly feel that they are well educated about HIV and AIDS and that it will make a difference in their future decisions. I owe thanks to my Grandma who sat with me on Thanksgiving Day and helped me make all of the ribbons for the event!

We really haven’t done much in the last month since we returned from the states. The people have shut down for the holidays and aren’t interested in working right now. I have been using this time to write lesson plans for the life skills course I am going to start teaching in January and to test my stoves before I start giving them away to people. I used a stove a few days ago to test how long it would take the water to boil. It took about twenty minutes which I thought wasn’t bad. Then I tested how much wood it burned and over 2 ½ hours it only used three small pieces, a huge success as well. Then I watched the smoke to figure out the best way to minimize the smoke. I found that placing three tiny pebbles under the pot made the fire more efficient and created less smoke as well, success, success, success. I went to bed that night very happy with my achievement and ready for the next day so I could give them away. When I woke up the next day it looked as if my stove had vomited. All of the insides had poured out through the base. So now I am back to the beginning. I am searching for a different type of dirt that might hold together better. I used dirt from my yard for the ones I made and this dirt is basically like sand. This is a huge setback as I was ready to get this project done and move onto other things but I guess it is part of the process.

I will be starting the library project next week with restorations and cleaning up the room. Then we will be painting the world map and moving in the first forty books of the library!!!

-Melissa

In case you were wondering…Yes, Santa Claus does come to El Salvador. This being one of the many Christmas traditions our cultures do share. However that is not to say that Christmas in El Salvador is just like it is at home in the States, there are many differences as well. The most obvious and visible similarities are Christmas trees, family gatherings, presents and a loss of true meaning of the holiday. Even in a country named “The Savior” images of Santa Clause outnumber manger scenes 10-1.
For the entire month of December all the buzz was about Christmas. Everyone was asking where we are going to be, what are we going to do, are we going to get drunk and are fireworks going to be involved. Yes, I said FIREWORKS… which apparently is how you celebrate Christmas if snow isn’t an option. Christmas Eve fireworks are a long standing tradition in El Salvador. However, one night of fireworks apparently is not enough, as in my community it was necessary to have constant explosions at all hours of the day and night for weeks leading up to the big day. (FYI…If you don’t have any fireworks you can always throw lit matches at one another, just a little something I picked up on from the neighbor kids when we ran out of fireworks right before I kicked them out of my house because one bashed another one’s head into a brick wall over an ice slushy dispute…that reminds me, have a I mentioned this can be a violent country?)
Anyway, moving on to our Christmas happenings… On the 23^rd we had a dinner in our community with all of the “movers and shakers” of our community (pictured below). There was ample fruit juice for everyone as well as roasted chicken, carne asada, rice and salad. For desert we dinned on chocolate chip cookies, made by Melissa, and a cake from a local bakery.

Eating cake is one of my least favorite activities in this country, it comes in a close third behind dumping the trash basket full of poopy paper that sits next to the toilet and being constantly cut in-front-of in any sort of line I happened to be standing in. The cake here is always soggy, as if it were soaked in water before being iced and usually has layers of jelly like fruit filling that taste nothing like fruit. It is relatively expensive, and for this reason you have to eat every last bit. On top of that most people are so excited to be sharing their cake with you that they watch you take every bite just waiting for you to swallow each time so they can comment on how great the cake is and ask if you agree, in case you changed your mind from the last bite.
In El Salvador a much bigger deal is made about the 24^th than the 25^th. In fact, Christmas Eve seems to be the actual holiday, and Christmas is just the next day set asside for recuperating from the night before.
We spent Christmas Eve with our original, in-site, host family (below our a few pictures). Our Christmas feast consisted of chicken sandwiches and tomales. The latter I can only describe as wet cornbread compressed tightly in a large leaf with the smell of new pair of tennis shoes. The familiarity of this odor had been a topic of discussion many times over for Melissa and I until one day we had a break through when she pegged the nail on the head with the new tennis shoes comparison.

After several hours of fireworks, chicken sandwiches, tomales and even a little bit of dancing Melissa and I headed home at around 11:15 p.m. giving us just enough time to fall asleep so that the midnight firework tradition could wake us back up and then trickle on for the next two hours.
Christmas day was spent alone in our house, lying in hammocks, watching movies and gorging ourselves on all the American style junk food that we had found in the grocery store a few days earlier, including Doritos, Double Stuff Oreos and Milky Ways.

I will leave you with this a Christmas pic of Tilly…I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday

- Ross

I am working on two main projects and some secondary projects at the moment. My main focus at this point is the stove project. Our community suffers from upper respiratory problems due to cooking over an open fire inside of the house.  During my census in May, I discovered that 92% of the houses that cook over an open fire have chronic respiratory problems. The stoves I am making are made of sawdust, dirt, cement, and water, produce less smoke, and require less wood. I use a mold to form the stove and then remove it when the mixture is ready. I have been able to get all the materials donated and the local carpenter even made me two extra molds. I met with some community members last week to get their input and to form a committee to help me build them. The group members were excited about the stoves and agreed that this is a well needed project. That is all of the group members except one. We will just call him the Don. The Don is an 85 year old, toothless, shirtless, shoeless, stubborn, farmer that always arranges free time to attend every community meeting where he will argue against everything and everyone then abruptly leave and head to the cantina. I was in the middle of explaining that this stove would require less wood and create less smoke when the Don interrupted me to tell me that he thought those were nice ideas, but that he didn’t see how he could make all of his tortillas on this type of stove and so the stove was useless, meeting adjourned. The rest of the group tried to convince the Don that the community needs this stove but the Don was not having it. He curled up in his chair, ate his snacks, and refused to participate in the rest of the meeting. The rest of the group overruled the Don and we have scheduled a general assembly with all community members to get a count on the number of stoves we need to make. So far I have made 3 stoves with each taking about 3 hours to complete. We are estimating that we will need to make about 200 stoves at 3 hours each, equaling 600 hours of stove building. On the bright side, I doubt I will have to make one for the Don.

The neighbor kids love to help me with my projects.

These are the first two completed stoves. As you can see they have been taken over by mold but they will be fine after they dry.

I am also working to build a library for the school. As of right now they have absolutely no books. The teachers have one book to teach from and the students write down everything in their notebooks. It wastes a lot of time, especially when they only attend school for half of the day. I am working with a rotary and soliciting in the states for book donations. I have received about 40 books from USAID and I am keeping them in my house until the library is ready. We have contacted a local NGO to repair a room in the school to use as the library. Construction begins in November and I am promised the room will be ready by January. We have formed a library committee of 2 teachers, 3 students, and one parent to go to trainings on how to take care of the library. Here is a picture of the library, as you can see; we have a lot of work to do.

The NGO that is repairing the room for the library will also be building a computer building. A building that I am told I will be responsible for supplying with computers. So, if anyone has any suggestions on computer donations, let me know.

My favorite project right now is teaching English. This is only a secondary project but it takes up a large amount of time. The school director asked me to teach English when I first arrived in the community and I wasn’t too thrilled about it to be honest. I thought there were more important things I could teach besides English, but the students really want to learn it and I ended up loving to teach it. I teach the fifth and sixth graders Tuesdays and Thursdays for an hour each. Starting in January I will also be teaching como planear mi vida, a life planning course to the ninth graders. I am really looking forward to the opportunity to work with the older kids and help them figure out what to do after they finish the ninth grade. Our school only runs through the ninth grade so students will either stop at grade 9 or have to figure out a way to travel to another town to attend high school. I only know of 9 kids in our entire community that are attending high school right now.

My fifth grade class.

My other secondary project is an HIV/AIDS campaign. I am working to prepare my community for World AIDS Day and the AIDS march that some fellow volunteers and I are coordinating for December 4th in our pueblo. This consists of charlas in my community as well as the surrounding cantones.

I have more projects I am looking to start in the future, like a recycling project and a women’s group, but for now my hands are full.

Other than projects, I have recently been stranded in a flash flood, I think I may have discovered a new species of caterpillar, and I now have fleas.

-Melissa

Big news out of Central America, apparently they have found a cure for cancer. I know this because there is a short, round man with a moldy leather satchel on the 302 Directo from San Sal to Usulutan who just happens to be selling it. It comes in a small spray bottle with no label and red cap. Normally it is sold for one dollar per bottle but because the round man liked the people on our bus so much, on this day he was only going to charge us 50 cents. How generous of him I thought, but I don’t have cancer. As if he could hear my thoughts, the gentlemen then proclaimed that if cancer was not your ailment, you need not worry. His six ounce miracle bottle would also cure any head, neck, tooth, back or knee pain.

In the last five months there have been several occasions that I have witnessed something and said to myself, that would be a good topic for a blog post. The previous paragraph being a perfect example. Then shortly after I begin writing the post, I realize I have nothing more than a couple lines or maybe a short paragraph. But does that mean these stories are not meant to be told? I think not. So here they are, a group of paragraphs with no relation to one another crammed into one blog post. Sometimes humorous, sometimes eye opening and sometimes both, these events are undoubtedly memories that will stick with me for the rest of my life.

A few weeks ago, while Melissa and I were waiting for a meeting to begin, we watched a chicken pecking a snake. The chicken then swallowed the snake, regurgitated it and begin pecking at it again. After the final blow was dealt, the chicken then once again swallowed the snake and then ran across the road. The whole process took about 3 minutes. ( FYI: Due to the frequency of the event here in El Salvador… the humor, of a seemingly ironic event such as “a chicken crossing the road,” wears off after about two days of being in country.)

Not to long after we moved to our site I witnessed one of the aforementioned “humorous yet eye opening events.” I saw a family of four, with circus-act like precision, riding a small 125cc motorcycle. The dad was driving, while the baby sat in front of him on the gas tank. This being the most logical place to put a baby on a motorcycle no doubt. The mother was hanging on tightly to her husband because she could barely fit behind him on this motorcycle that was originally designed with only one rider in mind. Last but not least, the young boy, probably ten years old, was riding piggy back on his mother suspended out behind the motorcycle with nothing beneath him but a dirt road passing at 30 mph.

One day while I was waiting at my bus stop in a large city that is only several miles from our site. I saw a group of young teenagers, the oldest was maybe 15, board the closest bus, with out saying a word, they were handed what looked like an envelope from the bus driver. They then quickly left the bus walked down the street and rounded the nearest corner. The store owner that I was standing with confirmed my suspicions and told me that they were gang members who were collecting their weekly extortion payments from the buses. Which by the way, this is how gangs here in this country make the majority of their money.

In our site, we have a small micro bus that runs 8 times a day back and forth between the nearest city. The bus has seats for 18 people. Last week… on our trip into town, I counted 53 people on the bus, and those were just the ones I could see.

-Ross

Many people have asked me why I joined the Peace Corps and my answers are always similar…I want to help people…but it’s more than that and it isn’t as altruistic as it may seem. My time here has allowed me to search deeper to find the true complex answer. The day I left for El Salvador was the most liberating day of my life. (The second was the day I chopped off all of my hair but that’s another story) I had everything I owned on my back as I headed for D.C. to begin the staging process. I didn’t have a car or any investments to return to, only college debt. So was I running? Yes and No. I wasn’t running from the debt because I know that it will be waiting with open arms upon my return but in a way, it was the money. I needed to see that there was more to life than the hustle and bustle of American life. I was seeking to find a place where family came before money and even the poorest people in the world were happy.

People always tell me they could never give up everything they have to join the Peace Corps and that got me thinking. Maybe it was easier for me to give up everything because honestly, I didn’t have anything to give up. After all, the most expensive thing I owned was a CD player. I admit that I didn’t have to sacrifice material things and in that sense it made my decision easier than most people. Just because I didn’t have to give up material possessions doesn’t mean I haven’t made personal sacrifices. The things that have hurt me the most are the things I can never get back like missing my brother move off to college, my big sister plan her wedding, and my niece take her first steps. I lose two years of playing skip Bo and watching Christmas Story marathons with my Dad. This is my sacrifice as it is theirs.

So here is my honest complex answer: I joined Peace Corps to ESCAPE the monotony of American life, to CHALLENGE myself, to SHARE my skills, to LEARN from the people in my village, to learn Spanish and how to make pupusas, to EMPOWER women, to OVERCOME stereotypes, to APPRECIATE life. I am here because the people in my life and my life experiences have made me believe that the self-sacrifice and determination of a few people can make the world a better place. I know that by teaching English and building stoves I am not creating world peace but I am making life a little better for the 1200 people in my village, and for me that will suffice.

I know I complain about the holes in my aluminum roof and that I may or may not have mold growing on me but the truth is that I am happier here. I don’t have to worry about whether or not I can make my car payment this month or endure Monday morning traffic in a mad dash to get to the office. I am poor, I am smelly, I am baking like a lasagna in a 400 degree oven but I love it, I am happy!

-Melissa

Do nothing from selfishness or conceit, but in humility count others better than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.

- Philippians 2.3-4

Melissa and I have been tossing around the idea of getting a dog for some time now. However, every time we discussed it there was always conflict with timing and we decided it would be best if we wait. After a few months of waiting we came to the conclusion that there is never a perfect time for adding something as needy as a puppy to our lives. So naturally, we made the mature and responsible decision and bought a puppy this past weekend. She is a brown cock-a-poo and at the moment is still lacking a name. (feel free to post your suggestions)

I had originally wanted to get a boxer or a husky but Melissa wanted something smaller and more girly. So of course we “compromised”… with a cock-a-poo. Last year at this time that wouldn’t have seemed like much of a compromise to me. But now that I have been married for a year I have come to realize the true meaning of the word.

I wasn’t exactly crazy about the idea of buying a cock-a-poo. I would compare the experience to when your 7^th grade son tells you he wants to quit the football team to be in the school musical. At first you are a little shocked, probably even a little confused, but eventually you come to grips with it.

Anyway, we have only had her for three days now and she is quickly becoming spoiled. She has her own hammock, which as you can see in the photo is attached to Melissa’s. She receives first priority with the fan and she sleeps in our bed. I had wanted to start crate training the first night, but Melissa thought sleeping with us would be less scary for her. So of course… we “comprised” and the dog and I shared a pillow.

She will undoubtedly be an inside dog, a foreign concept to the people in our community, and to most of the people in the country. The majority of the dogs here are kicked more often then fed and are quite the sight for sore eyes. Most dogs are forced to rummage through garbage and fight for scraps in the streets, leaving them rail thin, full of parasites and covered in scars. It’s a tough life for dogs in this country and the streets are no place for a cock-a-poo.

I have done my research and getting her in the states shouldn’t prove to be difficult. With a doggy plain ticket and a clean bill of health there should be no problems. Worse comes to worse I can hire a “coyote” to sneak her across the boarder. I hear they only charge about six grand for their services.

-Ross