The Arrival

Hiedi, Juli, Neto, Ceasar, and I

Travel Journal: Monday July 13, 2009 @ 12:41am

Chalatenango, El Salvador

I am currently sitting in the dark, listening to a chorus of insect sounds and snoring. Michelle is fast asleep next to me, shrouded in red mosquito netting. I think it's a little much, but I'm not going to judge.. too much. I remember the agony of being covered in welt sized mosquito bites on previous trips, and if it can be avoided, it should be.

This is the beginning of my 7th trip to El Salvador.

I'm not sure how I feel about that number. When I'm here I feel like that number should be significantly higher. Like I've lived a majority of my life here. When in reality it's all a composite of memories. 2, 4, 7, 10, 13, 16, 22. The ages I've been on every visit. So much is the same, yet so much is missing. One of the major things that takes me by surprise is the lack of development. Where is the infrastructure? Where is the growth? People are living the same way their parents lived 50 and 60 years ago. If this is a so-called developing nation.. where is the development? There has been little to no improvement in quality of life for people here. Talking to my mom about it, she sighs and deep sadness lines her face. "I could never come back and live here again" she regretfully informs me. I can't help but feel the sense of helplessness and failure in her voice when she says it. She tells me how she feels that local and national government have huge interests in keeping people satiated with what they have, and not wanting/needing more. The wealthy few are interested in profiting individually, but not nationally.

The flight was uneventful. Well aside from the instinctual pleasures of flying. I love the feeling of take-off. It feels like magic. I love looking out of the window down at cities. Los Angeles is probably the best city to look down on at night. It really gives a new meaning to being off the grid. The flight from Fresno to LA is definitely my favorite. The one from LA to San Salvador is just long. The in flight entertainment was Hotel for Dogs, the Suze Orman show (to my mom's delight), and 30 Rock ( to MY delight). The flight took off around 1am (about an hour late), and landed around 7:30am. I really do love the Salvadorean airport. I feel like it's in the middle of a jungle. Like if I look out the window I should see a scene from The Lion King, with gazelles sprinting though the grass. What I don't like are employees wearing masks. Nothing makes me feel as safe and welcome, as seeing local employees wearing masks.

The drive from the airport to Chalatenango was actually pretty smooth. I also got to have great conversation with my Tio Cristobol. I love hanging out with my uncles. They're all like different versions of my dad. The physical and gestural similarities give me a kick. Nothing makes me apprciate my dad, like being around his (crazy)(loving) family. Cristobol is kind of a badass though. He was an English professor, and an activist during the war. We talked politics, and globalization. Unlike my dad, he thinks sociology is an amazing field to be in. So much of what's happening politcally in El Salvador mirrrors what is happening in the States. After 20 years of rule from the Right, a new Leftist administration is in power. On the drive I saw many murals, and signs touting slogans for Change. The phenomenon is bigger than Obama, bigger than what transpired in the U.S. last year. The world is mobilizing for change! Or trying to anyway. El Salvador elected their own Obama this year, and my uncle seems cautiously optimisitc. I love how we have similar views on freedom of the press, civil engagement, and party politics. Sometimes it's easy to believe we are fully formed individuals who develop completely seperately from our families, and other times we see ourselves as reflections of those who share our DNA. Not that I think I was influenced or shaped by my uncles in any way, but somehow we've arrived at similar destinations of thought. If that makes sense.

Ok it's about 1:30 in the morning, and I'd kill for a fan or some AC right about now. Instead I'm gonna curl up, try to avoid Michelle's netting, and try to get some sleep. Cheers to beginnings, and (hopefully) good things to come!

G'night.

To who we are, who we were, and might one day be

"I believe that Jack Kerouac has summed up the experience of jungle weather better than I ever could: “I realized that the jungle takes you over and you become it… I began to tingle all over and to smell of the rank, hot, and rotten jungle, all over from hair and face to feet and toes… I opened my mouth to it and drew deep breaths of jungle atmosphere. It was not air, never air, but the palpable and living emanation of trees and swamp” (On the Road IV: 265-266)" - via Adam Nazaroff

I am feeling an intense void, for what I know not. I had a sad dream last night, one I barely remember, yet it feels as if the burden of emotion has seeped into consciousness. My beliefs alienate me from those I have cared for in the past. I am not willing to compromise on what is right, but it hurts to stand apart as well. Perhaps it is for the best that I will be leaving soon. I am hoping to find something within me during this trip. If my mother can make amends with the colors of her past, then so can I. If I can surmount her demons, I may begin to tackle mine.

The cycle of the work week begins tomorrow. If only I knew with certainty what it is I should be doing there. I can tread water, but how long before I exhaust myself or someone points out I'm not getting anywhere. I wish I could just be a student full time. Then maybe I would actually be in the near vicinity of graduating. Which brings me to now. Now is the time my peers are graduating from their four year undergraduate college educations. Most of them headed on to grad programs in amazing fields. Their accomplishment laid out before them. I thought I would hurt more when this time came, but it is more like a slight pinch. I officially graduated from high school four years ago. Most people would say that means little to nothing. I have made it mean something to me. Perhaps I have made it mean too much. I am apprehensive that I still have no concrete vision for what I want to do in life, or better yet what I am well suited to do. I DO NOT want to be a teacher. That I know with every fiber of my being, but that is not enough. Even if I went down the list and named all that I do not want to be I would still be left with an insurmountable list.

Ok, I should shower and get ready for phone banking. Today we finish calling Kerman.

The Acorn- Oh Napoleon from Glory Hope Mountain

I am once again (for some inexplicable) reason committing to this blog. This will hopefully be an easier thing to do, now that I have a laptop.

These flowers are the very last picture on my phone. They were sitting on a bar, in a house drenched in opulent wealth. Material wealth, I cannot with certainty verify any other kind.

I am currently sitting on my bed watching Rancid play out The Tonight Show. It always weirds me out to think this stage will host rancid one night, and then Taylor Swift the next. I'd like to think that if I ever had a talk show, or any show for that matter I would only showcase bands I like. Which might make it a less than successful endeavor. Although I'd like to think I have very eclectic tastes, there are some genres that would rarely be represented.

Life right now is liquid. I'm living with the flow, instead of focusing on the solidity of long term. I should have registered for Fall classes. I haven't. I should care more about the security of my job. I don't. Sometimes my mom will stop and look straight at me and ask "what is going on with you?". Honestly I don't know. Priorities are shifting quickly beneath my feet, so I stumble forward. I just have to believe that fall will come and I'll have classes to go to, and that whatever happens with FBU will happen for the best.

Committing to something feels like missing out on so many other possiblities. It hurts my brain. What I do know is I must go to bed soon, if I expect to have any kind of chance at recovery.

No Good

I had dreams with marching bands in them last night. Marching bands and summer camps. I had it all straight in the fleeting moments between asleep and awake. Now that I'm completely awake all I can focus on is how insanely sick I am. My sinuses might explode, and if I close my mouth I will no longer be able to breathe. On the upside I have the weekend off. So basically free to be as sick as I want. great.

sick and grumpy

In this moment, I feel badly about many things I've done. Like stones that lay heavily on my chest. I do this weird thing when I think of something I'm ashamed/hurt/embarrassed/sad about. After that one little thought breaks through, I open the gate to all the things that make me feel truly awful. There is no purpose to it, and perhaps there is a chemical/psychological reason for it. Lately I've tried really hard to shut the door before anything pierces through the consciousness. Self preservation is a powerful thing. Aaagh. I wonder if this ever happens to anyone else.

Shopping for Dan's new apt.

so this is the new year...

I'm sick. Nose stuffed up, sore throat, and throbbing head. I would like to just lounge around or sleep all day, but I have to be at work at 2:30... make that 5pm now. A little phone work goes a long way.