My First Visitor, An International Tournament, and The Newbies

I’m not quite sure how it happened, but another month has passed, I’ve now been in El Salvador three quarters of a year, have completed one quarter of my tour of service, and my group members and I are no longer “the newbies”. I continue to have tremendous once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and was finally able to share them directly with my first visitor, my sister Dana, these past two weeks.

My First Visitor
By no means is Salvadoran campo living an easy transition to make, especially from the go, go, go lifestyle so many of us are accustomed to stateside. Thankfully, though, along with her hairdryer, hair products and hiking boots, Dana packed her sense of humor, sense of adventure, and flexibility, and on the whole had a great fourteen-day visit.

Within Dana’s first forty eight hours in ES, she had already visited one of the country’s most notable Mayan archeological sites, been hit by the brick that is Salvadoran stagnant summer heat, and experienced the challenges that arise when a community that is used to having running water for four hours every three days goes nearly a week without. For me, I began to relive my own culture shock I went through during my first few nights in site. How to use the bathroom that in reality is a latrine, garbage management (or lack there of), teeth brushing, even sleeping (cue claustrophobia by mosquito net), are all a 180˙ turn from the same activities in America. To me, these learned behaviors are second nature by now, and seeing as I figured out how to adapt myself relatively easily, I wrongfully assumed Dana would be able to do the same. She was my guest and it was my job to help her along. She was just here on a visit; this wasn’t her reality like it is mine. I shouldn’t have expected so much from her. So, after a few tips (kick the latrine at least three times to dislodge the cockroaches), answering some questions (where do I wash my hands when there’s no sink), and a lot of laughs, Dana started to get the hang of campo living.

As I mentioned, Dana arrived to my site on the heels of five consecutive days without running water. Trucks, each weighed down by over twenty tons of sugarcane, brought on the lack of water as they headed to our neighborhood sugar refinery. Our water mains, that are in reality four inch diameter PVC piping, commonly break under the weight of the trucks as they thunder down the dirt roads. By Thursday, Dana’s first full day in El Salvador and in my site, our pila (large water basin) was bone dry and our other water retainers desiccated, as well. (Don’t worry; I made sure to have a stockpile of clean drinking water.) This lack of water didn’t really affect us in the morning while we sketched the world map at the school, but in the afternoon when the water should have been running and we really needed to bathe no water was to be had. Dana and I had plans to head into the pueblo to use the internet (you know my sister, constant connectivity is essential and she doesn’t know how to not do work) at my host father’s office. Showing up unclean and smelling rather unpleasantly wasn’t exactly an option.

My host grandmother knew our plans, and the one who always encourages me to bathe twice, and sometimes even three times, daily (I never knew I smelled so bad) had a contingency plan in place. Chio, whose real name is Rosario and her connection to my host family is too confusing to even begin to explain, would walk with us down to la posa, or spring, where water was apparently flowing. I had actually never been there before, so explaining things to Dana, who doesn’t exactly speak much Spanish, was harder than normal. Mama Chila assured me it would be great, maybe even a little fun. So, Dana and I changed into some culturally appropriate bathing clothes (Dana’s hot yoga shorts didn’t quite fit the bill), packed one of my market bags with our towels and shower products, grabbed a couple guacales (small plastic buckets) and headed out with Chio and my one year old host nephew, Rolvin.

Not exactly knowing where we were going, Dana and I followed Chio down our main road. On the walk, much to my surprise and the utter shock of Dana, a freshly mud-rolled pig trotted up behind us. I have gotten used to having random animals roam around and simply to get out of their way. Dana, on the other hand, not knowing what was scampering up behind her instinctively started to run. The pig, equally startled by Dana’s reaction, ran after her. Trying to contain my laughter, I attempted to tell Dana to simply side step out of the way. Ever so deftly, amidst some “Why didn’t you tell me there were pigs that chase you?!?!,” Dana dodged the pig, regained her composure, and then cracked up hysterically. Only in the campo can you run the risk of being plowed over by a pig while walking twenty minutes to a spring in the woods to bathe.

Ten minutes into the walk to the spring, Dana started to get the concerned, where are we goings, meaning she was asking where were we going are we there yet every minute. All I could say was, “I don’t know. We’re following Chio.” I can understand why this would be nerve racking, following someone to an unknown location. But, for me I was following one of my host family members to bathe; nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary. If I never followed anyone to unknown places, I would never be able to find my own way around. After about ten minutes up our main road followed by ten more minutes of walking through the trees down a well beaten path, Chio announced that we had arrived. There was water flowing from a pipe that must have been linked to a spring somewhere and collected in a large man made pila. The pila was overflowing and created a miniature stream. Chio, assuring us that it was okay to take off our shirts (no worries, we had sports bras on, too), no men would come around (they have their own bathing hole) and said, “Aquí estamos. Vayan,” which basically means, “Here we are. Go ahead.”

I could tell Dana was a more than a little hesitant, taking in all the sights and sounds, including the three other women standing shirtless washing clothes and bathing, the beauty of the surrounding forest, and the symphony of animal sounds. But, she took a deep breath, stepped up to the pila and got right on down to business. Remembering my first bucket bath way back in San Vicente during training, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Dana did a great job, and wound up smelling fresh as a daisy.

Now, those of you who know Dana are certainly getting a kick out of this and probably wishing you could have been one of the frogs hanging out near the stream to see this whole event. Don’t worry, though, we have photographic evidence. Just ask her, I am sure Dana will be willing to share her experience. J

Dana and I spent five entire days in site. During four of these days, we dedicated our time to working on my Maps Project. Over the course of our topography time, we were able to complete drawing the world map, and let me tell you, that was no easy task. 1568 squares of drawing is a lot to do, and feels much harder when done in 90˙ heat. Also, drawing on a base of oil paint isn’t so easy, either. During these four days, we successfully mixed all the colors for painting countries and departments including pink, purple, orange, teal, and a lovely light green. The finished El Salvador map is pretty impressive, if I do say so myself. Please be sure to check out photos of the finished product on my Facebook account under the “Map Project” photo album. Dana and I weren’t unable to finish the world map, but no worries. I have spent my days painting away, and it’s nearly complete. I’ll be sure to share photos of the final product once it’s all done.

Also while Dana was here, my host nephew, Yefri, celebrated his fourth birthday on March 27th. Yefri’s mother works as a private cook in Guatemala and was unable to be home for his birthday. Before Dana and I had left for the new group’s Swearing-In, I asked Soyla, Yefri’s aunt and caretaker, if there was anything special planned for his birthday. Soyla told me that, no, there wouldn’t be anything until at least the Wednesday afterwards when Yefri’s mother, Berta, would be able to bring home her salary. Dana and I were traveling on our way back from San Salvador on Yefri’s birthday and decided we wanted to help Yefri celebrate his big day. He had been talking about it for weeks, and we couldn’t imagine how sad it would be if his birthday went uncelebrated. We stopped at our local bakery, Roxanna’s, and purchased a small cake. Yefri’s excitement and appreciation could be seen oozing from his eyeballs. The photos from his cake cutting are a must see. He’s such a sweetheart (as long as you aren’t telling him to get ready for school).

On Dana’s final day in my site, we participated in a garbage clean up. My women’s group, that is now successfully holding events after reestablishing itself for the third time (just goes to show you that the third time really is a charm), organized the event as an effort to mejorar, improve, our community and help in the fight against the spread of Dengue Fever. (Here in El Salvador, the entire country is facing an endemic of the mosquito-transmitted illness.) Sunday’s cleanup, much to my pleasant surprise, turned out to be a great success. Of course our helpers showed up forty-five minutes late (a cultural nuance that Dana will never be able to get used to), but nonetheless we had strong numbers with five women and around fifteen kids. First we tackled the disaster that was the school grounds, and then later battled the trash monster on the main road. We separated the plastic bottles that can be sold and recycled from the other types of garbage. Unfortunately, our community does not have any sort of trash management program, which means that all trash is either botar-ed, buried, or burned. Obviously all of the options create environmental contamination, but from my analysis of the situation, burning the trash had the least hazardous effect on health. With throwing the trash, the animals my community members later slaughter for food eat the garbage and with burying, the food that is grown in nearby land is contaminated, along with ground water that is later drunk. Without a doubt, polluting the air is awful, but to me the lesser of the evils, especially when done away from many people. What we are working on regarding trash management is promoting the separation of garbage into organic waste that can be used to make compost from inorganic waste that obviously has no value. Changing habits is challenging, but starting with the kids is the best way to tackle the beast.

Of the activities I participated in with my sister, I think my favorite would have to be hiking Volcán Santa Ana. Not only was I able to share this experience with my blood sister, my host sisters Xenia and Leslie also joined us. Dana and I were up bright and early to walk down to the bus stop near the sugar refinery, catch a bus into my municipality where we met up with the girls. My host father, Rene, was kind enough to drive the four of us into the city of Santa Ana where we caught the bus up to Parque Nacional de Cerro Verde. The bus ride up to the park was a little over an hour and a half, and Dana’s first experience on a “chicken bus”. For those of you who don’t know what a chicken bus is, it is often an old school bus, painted, decorated, usually equipped with a bumpin’ sound system and along with human passengers, chickens share the ride, too. Dana really isn’t one to sit still for long without something to read or emails to respond to on her iphone, but that’s not how things work here. Our bus rides became a lesson in idleness and relaxation for my sister, teaching her it’s okay to sit and ponder every once in a while.

Finally we had reached the park, and the view to say the least is gorgeous. Atop Cerro Verde, Volcán Izalco and Volcán Santa Ana are visible, along with Lago Coatepeque, and on a very clear day you can even see the ocean. We signed up for the daily 11AM hike up Santa Ana, fueled up, and were soon on our way. The hike itself was four hours long, about two hours up, a half hour rest at the top, and about one and a half hours back down. Though at times the hike was strenuous, it was well worth the effort for the view from the top, and the breathtaking site of Volcán Santa Ana’s sulfur lake in its crater. The color of the lake was the most beautiful color of green I have seen in nature and can only best be described as jade. Be sure to check out the photos on Facebook, but they certainly don’t do the lake justice.



I have to admit, I put my sister through a lot that she wasn’t used to, and she survived it all like a trooper. It was great to have her visit, and I appreciate her patience and understanding of my very unconventional lifestyle and career. There is a reason that not everyone does Peace Corps and it has the reputation of being the toughest job you’ll ever love.

An International Tournament
As some of you may already be aware, other first world countries, including England and Japan, have similar programs to Peace Corps where they send volunteers to third world countries to work in the realm of development. Here in El Salvador, Japanese volunteers, or members of JICA, are serving along side us in an effort to catalyze development. We’ve been working in parallel for years, and in an effort to work more in tandem, JICA and PC El Salvador organized a soccer tournament followed by a meet and greet session so we volunteers had the opportunity to get to know one another and spark some great working relationships.

But, this was no ordinary soccer tournament to be played at your local soccer cancha out in the campo. The JICA volunteers rented out El Salvador’s national stadium, Estadio Cuscatlan, where ES’s national team plays and Guns ‘N Roses will be performing next week, for us to play in. As one volunteer put it, we got the opportunity to play soccer in El Salvador’s Soccer Mecca. Many futbolistas dream of merely sitting in the stadium let alone lacing up their cleats and running the field. No doubt was this a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

So, bright and early on Sunday, March 21st after a great night’s sleep and being completely spoiled by staying at the Sheraton, Dana and I met up with the rest of the PC El Salvador Men’s and Women’s Soccer teams. Finally, after over six months without my very own jersey, my good old number 13 was in. On our soccer teams, instead of putting our last names on the backs of our jerseys, we choose to put a Spanish nickname people have consistently called us during our service. My jersey name is CHAPUDITA, which means “little red-faced one”. For those of you who have ever worked out with me, or seen me after a glass of wine (I’m genetically deficient, right, Cait?), know that this name is more than appropriate. I always come off the field the same color as my jersey: bright red.

Stepping onto the field in the stadium was nothing short of amazing. For starters, I haven’t seen grass that green or well manicured since my Dad’s lawn on the Fourth of July. Secondly, I’ve always wondered what goes through athletes’ minds and what they feel when they play in such a huge venue. Granted our fan base was nothing like the Selecta, but I got a pretty good sense of it all. We jogged a bit, warmed up and did drills, and for the first time in all the PC Women’s games that I have played in, we not only had enough girls to field an entire team, we even had subs. Things were looking good for us.

Taking advantage of the stadium, and the international showing, both the United States Peace Corps and the Japan JICA paraded out of our respective underground tunnels with our nation’s banner flying as we processed out. Here’s a funny side story. Of course we needed our own full size Star Spangled Banner for the game, and much to my surprise and the surprise of my fellow PCVs, we don’t have our own flag at the PC office. One of our administrators then contacted the Embassy to borrow one flag from their arsenal of Old Glories. As is turns out, in order to borrow an American flag from the Embassy, even if it’s the country’s Peace Corps post, a mound of paperwork has to be completed and processed. There simply wasn’t enough time. We’d still be waiting for the flag today. In the end, our Country Director borrowed the flag from the Sheraton. Pretty hilarious if you ask me.

The two teams paraded out, lined up, shook hands, and listened to each other’s national anthems, including the national anthem of our host country, El Salvador. Before we got down and dirty on the field, though, we had some great opening words from the Salvador Sports Commission President. He shared his excitement to have our organizations helping in the country and suggested having a triangular tournament in the future with a Salvadoran team as well. You don’t have to ask me twice, I’d love to play.

Finally, after what seemed like thousands of photos were taken, we got down to business with the games. Each game lasted thirty straight minutes, and the game schedule was as follows: JICA Men vs. PC Men, JICA Men’s Staff vs. JICA Men, JICA Women, vs. PC Women, Westerners 1 vs. Easterners 1, Westerners 2 vs. Easterners 2. (The West vs. East Games were coed, mixed PC/JICA, and were determined by one’s geographical location here in El Salvador.) In the Men’s game, our boys put up a good fight, but not good enough to defeat the JICA men. The JICA team dominated the field with swift passing and fancy footwork and ended victoriously 4-2. Based on the men’s game, I was a little nervous for the women’s game. If the women were even remotely good as the men, we were in for a tough match. But, within the first minute, with my sister Dana playing midfield and myself at forward, we were able to make a good push up the field, passed well and handed the ball off our captain, Missy, for our first goal. Nearly the entire game was played in front of JICA’s goal. I am used to playing physically against the Salvadoran women’s teams that aren’t afraid to hip check and like to throw ‘bows, but the JICA women didn’t have the same style of play. The highlight of the game for me was when I managed to exaggerate a fall (a la style of Mexican men’s soccer) I sustained after a far-too-rough go for a ball and avoided a yellow card. In the end PC Women were victorious 6-0.

The remaining games were a blast as well. This tournament truly was a great way to get to meet and know our Japanese counterparts. After all the games, we headed over to our PC office for a meet and greet with the JICA volunteers, and there we finally got a real opportunity to talk. What was interesting, though, was that we all had to communicate in Spanish, as neither party knew the other party’s native language. There were points when both sides would struggle with explaining an idea in Spanish, but experiencing the same language difficulties, we were still successful in communicating. Pretty remarkable. Be sure to check out the photos on Facebook. They are pretty sick.

The Newbies
As silly as it may sound, I was counting down the arrival of the next PC training class since the day after my own Swearing-In. On that particular day, September 5, 2009, I stopped at one of San Salvador’s malls for lunch before making my way to site. There, I ran into a volunteer who had been from the group before me. Here in El Salvador there are over 140 volunteers serving, so the chances of not knowing all volunteers is pretty high. This particular volunteer, who I hadn’t met, came up to me and said, “Peace Corps, right? Good luck on your first day in site.” I was astonished, how did he know I was new? I asked him just that, and he said, “You’re too clean, your clothes are too new, and you look pretty scared.”

To be honest, I was a little offended. I had put in my time in training. I’d been in country for two months. I wasn’t new. And, hey, I wasn’t scared. (Ha, yeah right.) But, even into the month of March, as I would meet fellow volunteers, they’d give the, “Oh, you’re a newbie,” line, raise their eyebrow a bit and smirk. I’m not sure why, but this really bothered me. Heck, I am a volunteer, too. Why do you think you’re so much better than I am because you’ve been here six months longer than me? Why does it seem like you’re keeping a secret from me about serving?

I didn’t get it until I caught site of the “newbies”. They really were clean. Their clothes were really shiny, and in new cool styles I didn’t even know about. And, they definitely looked scared and like they were going to poop their pants. (Maybe it was just a case of amoebas, I don’t know.) But, I tried my best not to do the “newbie” routine like was done to me. Instead of the “you’ll see, newbie” treatment, I tried to give them some sound advice that I wished the veterans had given me back when I was a baby volunteer. Of the new volunteers that I had the chance to speak with, I didn’t find a bad one in the bunch, and I am sure they will do a great job in their two years of service.

Thirty-six of them arrived on February 3rd, and thirty-six swore in on March 26th. They are a big group and a strong group, and one I look forward to working with. So, on Friday after all the pomp of their ceremony at the Embassy, we fellow volunteers, about one hundred of us in all, met up at one of our favorite haunts for a party. It was a great way to celebrate the success of completing training and sending them off the next day in style. And by in style I mean really “tired” from a late night of celebrating and dancing.


As always, thanks for reading, and I will try to do better in the coming days to update more regularly. Some exciting events that I have coming up are another PC Soccer game—this time out East, a Safety and Security conference, and training that I will be directing.

Please keep me updated with your lives as well. I hope you all had a wonderful Easter and Passover season. Of course I missed eye dying on Saturday night terribly, and missing Sunday’s meal brought a tear to my eye.

And, a very special Happy Belated Birthday goes out to my dear friend and former roommate, Eric! The next time we are in DC together, we’ll hit up Rosa Mexicano for dinner (pomegranate margaritas?), do an Adams Morgan Bar Crawl, maybe some late night Five Guys, and a sunrise visit to Honest Abe. It’ll be a Marzellen/Tark-a-Palooza. Miss you.

Love, love, love,
Ros