an adventure in the clouds

Yesterday was its own little adventure as we headed off to visit two more praxis sites where some of our students will be spending their time. For our group this was really the beginning of witnessing “la realidad” that is lived here every day. We spoke with some women who had formed their own Christian community in the town of San Ramon, and although they had very little, they talked about how the gospels called them to serve their wider community with whatever they had. So we followed an older man named Gustavo, who treks up to the community of Las Nubes (the clouds) on a nearby mountain to visit those in need who live rather isolated from assistance. It was incredible to hear the way he spoke about this mission, and how Jesus was a great philosopher because of what he took the time to see, and whom he chose to walk with.
One of the women who we stopped to visit was a tiny, beautiful, toothless 81 year old woman named Mercedes. She was a mother of eleven; when we asked her who else lived there she said “it is just me and God here now.” I walked on thinking about what that meant for her. It meant that when it gets dark (not long after dinner) she was in that tiny home by herself (with no electricity or running water of course), that her daily needs were her own struggle, and that (as it was abundantly clear) this random visit from a group of strangers was the highlight of her day. We laughed when she told us that the three students who will be coming back to visit her will have to repeat their names every time, because not only do they look like the last ones who came, but all 23 of us look the same.
We heard a lot of families share their struggles, and many times (not surprisingly to you all, I’m sure) I found myself holding back tears--not always out of sadness, but because the overwhelming faith they had. Making these visits as a group (which we’ll only do once) is still an odd feeling—but I am continually amazed at how open the people we have met are to us. We talked the other day about how it is hard to accept such wonderfully prepared meals from people who we can see live with so much less than us, but a friend of mine quoted her mentor who once said “to accept a gift is to honor the giver” and that is very true here. So I’ve come to accept those gifts that many might not associate with my daily choices in the states (black coffee? Sure! red meat? Why not!?), wishing that my never ending “gracias” could somehow get across how grateful I am-not just for what they are giving me, but what they are teaching me.
At times I wonder how many of these stories I will hear over the course of four months, and how hard it might get to continually keep my eyes open to what is here, as Gustavo challenged us to do. When talking about this at lunch another student quoted Mother Theresa when she said
“let your heart break so fully that the whole world falls in.” I liked that.

The trip down the mountain became its own adventure as it began to rain, and then pour. We huddled under families little roofed homes and talked, but finally had to cut our visits short. Getting onto our mini-bus (parked half way down the mountain) we had a comical encounter with fire ants that involved a little dancing, much flailing of shoes, and bare feet hanging out of windows while others poured bottles of water on them in an almost baptismal fashion.
We only got about a minute down the rocky road before we had to get out of the mini-bus because the roads were in no condition to be navigated with the weight of 25 people in one vehicle (especially as we saw other cars stuck on the sides of the road). So I left my fire-ant infested book bag and skipped down the road in my soaked skirt, loving every second of it.
Today we visited the site where Romero was killed, the Cathedral where he is buried, and a public hospital. This isn’t really something I think I could write about, but I am very eager to share in person when I’m back in the states.

Spanish word of the day: bicho/bicha—a friend or child, ie. “homeboy/girl” aka my new favorite word
Mystery of the day: the powdered milk in our house disappeared
Confession: I was relieved
Stay tuned…tomorrow we visit my praxis site! Also, my house is looking into both salsa and hip-hop lessons…I’m posting this so I don’t punk out.

Un abrazo a todos <3

noticias de una gringa feliz

Buenas a todos!
Well here I am! It is hard to believe that it has just been a few days that I've been in this beautiful country, it is hard to sum up all that has happened already! One word best sums up the view as we flew into San Salvador-GREEN. As I stared out the window with a ridiculous grin on my face I remember thinking to myself ¨I´m here, I did it!"
I moved into my new house, Casa Ita (after Ita Ford) the smallest of the three student homes, with all women. There are eight of us, including two Salvadoran scholarship students (baccarias) and my Community coordinator, Annie (a Casa alum, a mentor and friend for us). I am already amazed at the sense of community between my housemates, and all 23 of us Casa students.

my corner of our lovely little cuarto (and the door to our deck!)

A few highlights...
On our second day, after resting up and getting settled, we headed off to the UCA, to see the museum dedicated to the Jesuit martyrs, and the rose garden where these brave men those their lives. Anyone who knows me well is probably imagining the amount of geeking out that this event meant for me, and you couldn't be more correct. I packed up my camera and eagerly walked down with my new friends, ready to document this incredible moment! But things were a little different than I imagined.
Walking onto the UCA campus was breathtaking...I will literally be walking under palm trees and past the most beautiful flowers on my way to class each day! My inner hippie was doing summersaults. But when we stepped into the museum things changed, it felt a lot more real for me as I looked at the last articles of clothing these men wore, and pictures of them throughout their lives. A Salvadoran woman, Gris, led us out to the place where they were killed, which has been made into a rose garden. Just then, it started to rain lightly (which happens often here) and something inside me didn't want to take pictures at all, it was real in a way that didn't need to be documented at all...being present to it was more than enough.

The other day I met a man named Lolo at dinner, who is from Mariona, the community where I will be spending two days a week. I have been having a lot of trouble with what El Salvadorans call "pena" it is somewhat of a shyness, a littel bit of anxiety, but mostly-what Annie explained to us, a "fear of being known" when it comes to speaking Spanish. But I finally got up my courage to attempt being a part of a group of students talking to him, and he was adorable! After openly sharing about his family, daughters, and much about his country and its struggles, he said something that I will never forget...he said that every year students come to his community-whose people do not speak any English, and the students sometimes hardly speak Spanish. But they always manage to communicate, he smiled and held his hand to his heart and said "porque hay una lingua del corazon, que rompa las fronteras"--"there is a language of the heart that breaks down barriers" At which point I teared up, smiled back, excused myself, and promptly decided that this man will be my new friend.

Another night we went out for Pupusas (what someone in my group described as a Salvadoran hot-pocket, but better) and were serenaded by a mariachi band--MY LIFELONG DREAM! The pupusas were delicious, even if I could feel my arteries slowly dying. Later we walked to a nearby overlook, and looked out on the beauty of the city at night. It was dark with just a sprinkle of lights around the base of a huge mountain. Every once in a while a flash of lightening would light up a bit of the sky--and taking pictures that we knew couldn't quite capture how exquisite it was. It was so peaceful!
Yesterday we visited two of the service sites that some of my friends will be spending time (as part of orientation we will see all eight sites, so that when we share experiences there is a point of reference) There was a heck of a lot of hardcore hiking, but later on we trekked out to a local swimming hole with tons of kids, water has never felt so wonderful!

And for all of you who are trying to picture my adjustment to this country, here are a few new things on the Maura-radar:
-They weren't kidding about the showers here--I stepped in on my second morning here and appreciated that they didn't even pretend I had options. There was only one knob, one temperature. One refreshing way to start the day! Maybe its just because the honeymoon phase of being here hasn't worn off, but I stand in the cold showers with the dumbest goofy grin on my face every time.
-Pedestrians here have NO right of way, so I opted out of a group run through the streets given that I'd rather avoid being the kid that got hit by a car during orientation week. Instead I headed down to the dirt track at the UCA with some friends, and enjoyed the scenic mountain/Burger King view without fear of crazy taxi drivers. For those of you concerned with my getting lost, there is one comfort. This town is one entire incline, so I've learned one thing-home is up, school is down--so side street names are my new challenge!
-Living without a cell phone or regular internet has been a rather liberating feeling, and I don't mind not being able to flush toilet paper--however, I am still morning the loss of fresh milk :( I have not gained up the courage to try the powdered milk quite yet. Call me a coward, but I am afraid of disappointment.

There is so much more I could say, but this has gotten much longer than I imagine anyone has time to read. I miss home, and my beautiful family and friends...but I am so happy here, and grateful for all of the "confianza" that you have sent me here with.

Spanish word of the day: lobo--balloon
random reminder of home: this internet cafe is currently playing "papa don't preach," and earlier I outwardly sang along to "last christmas" (luckily only us gringas are here)

Hasta pronto mis queridos amigos!

Maura