"Louie, Louie"

Part way through the “Antigua Cuscatlan” course on our weekly Saturday morning run, my complejo running crew and I were detoured from the normal route when we happened upon a marching band that appeared to be preparing for a parade. As we rounded the corner, it became apparent that this was more than a parade. It was the inaugural event of a ginormous marching band competition. We decided to stop and soak up the spontaneous culture that had suddenly immersed us.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have my camera with me because there were definitely some photo-worth images to capture. I’ll do my best to paint them for you:

-Swarms of baton girls in short, short, short skirts, stiletto boots up to their thighs, thick makeup and hair as long as their skirts were short.
-Groups of girls in traditional Salvadoran dress that danced out front
-Bands composed of half percussion, a quarter trombones and a quarter trumpets-80% male
-Many of the girls in the band still marched in heels!
-First song that the first band played as they started to march, “Play that funky music white boy” (I believe this would be an appropriate opportunity to use the term ironic.)

In the midst of pounding drums, semi-straight lines and marking time the marching band aficionado in me, which typically lies dormant, was activated. Suddenly, I was dying to know if these bands did actual field shows or simply marched in a multitude of festivals and parades. After repeatedly musing aloud to my running companions, I decided to go up to one of the directors and ask in my more stilted than usual Spanish. (I may have been more fluid had I prepped myself with the words “show”,”perform”, and “parade”, however I’m confident that my gesturing and descriptive skills have improved dramatically since arriving in El Salvador. I sometimes feel like it’s like a never-ending game of Catch Phrase!) I walked away about 60% sure that he understood me and replied that they do perform shows.

Later that afternoon, I made an outing of walking to the store to get some pots and pans and was pleasantly surprised to find that they DO in fact perform shows. In fact, the competition was taking place in the parking lot! After my shopping, I was able to stand under the portable canopies to watch for about 10 minutes (before darkness forced me home) and see one band do most of their set which opened with “Louie Louie”. It brought a smile to my face that even though I may be in El Salvador, marching bands still love “Louie, Louie”! I’m not sure how they were able to create their formations with no marks on the parking lot, but they did! A fellow spectator informed me that this was the premier competition for the entire country and that parking lots are their typical performance venue. While I wouldn’t characterize the performance as in-tune, in-step or polished, I would describe it as earnest, passionate, and enthusiastic and a true treat to experience!

It may not feel like fall here, and I may not see any football games, but I did get my “Festival of Bands” fall marching band fix with a Salvadoran twist! :)

Unexpected Connection

I “should” blog about my wonderful Independence Day 4-day weekend trip to Antigua, Guatemala with a big group of friends. However, a significant amount of my brain power got spent grading papers this evening, so I’m going to share a shorter, simpler yet no-less-sweet story!

I entered through the gates at my running park this afternoon when I spotted an elderly gentleman with kind eyes and a warm smile sitting alone on a bench at the entrance. I had seen this man before and had pegged him as a potential Spanish conversation buddy since as he seemed interested in chatting (I could see it in his eyes!) and safe because I could totally outrun him if necessary! I considered aborting my run right then in favor of chatting, but decided that a half mile run to the park couldn't really be counted as a workout and would instead hope that he didn't leave before I was available to chat. Each lap I looked anxiously at the bench and was pleased to find that he was still there when I finished. As I walked over to his bench sweaty and out-of-breath, I started to wonder how to strike up a conversation with a random 85-year old Salvadoran man. (One would think I might have considered this during the 3 mile run, but I hadn’t.)

To my surprise and delight, once he saw me, he struggled to stand and greeted me as if we were long-time acquaintances! (Some might be concerned by this but I could tell he was amiable and good-intentioned.) We proceeded to have the most delightful conversation. He has a granddaughter who attends Escuela Americana, where I teach, and a few other grandchildren who are attending college in the US. He asked me where I was from and didn't accept the answer San Salvador. I wonder what gave it away?! Next, he asked where my parents and parents' parents were from. “U.S.” I replied repeatedly. When I finally understood he was trying to ask about my heritage, I tried to explain that some of my family was from Sweden, but was limited by my vocabulary and conveniently migrated my ancestors to Norway, which was more easily understood. I got excited when I realized I had German heritage as well AND knew the Spanish word for Germany! His heritage was Palestinian and he proceeded to whip out some Arabic temporarily yet thoroughly confusing my language-laden brain.

Our conversation was cut short by his driver beckoning him home because of the impending rain, so we shook hands and parted ways for today. Hopefully, we'll meet again another day to experience more bumbling Spanish, jewels of wisdom that only life experience can bring and the joy of building upon unexpected connections.

Quiquiriqui!

In case you haven’t brushed up on your Spanish recently, “quiquiriqui” is the sound that a rooster makes in Spanish. I haven’t heard that phrase since high school Spanish class and therefore was immediately transported back when I heard it tonight at the National Theater in San Salvador. Since it’s easier for my mind to travel while watching a play in Spanish, I had a moment of reflection thinking about how when I was in 9th grade learning animal noises. At that point, I’m confident that I had no idea years later I’d be living in El Salvador and watching a French woman perform a one-person rendition of Romeo and Juliet in the front row of the oldest theater in all of Latin America.

The evening was a delightful way to end the happy day of 09/10/11. It started out with a random group of 6 of us meeting up (with each of us knowing no more than 2 other people in the group) to go watch Romeo and Juliet be performed by a French group in Spanish at the National Theater downtown for $3! Though it was slated to begin at 6:30, Salvadoran time prevailed and the show started promptly at 7:10pm. We were able to spend that time getting to know each other: one person was from Malaysia and stopping through on his 18 month tour around the world, another was an aid worker who had previously lived in the Dominican Republic and Liberia and another had done a 3-month tour through southern and eastern Africa camping and living in a community…fascinating!

Before the show started, I wondered how much of the Spanish production I would understand but figured I would probably be better off in Spanish than Shakespearean English. I concluded that I was able to understand about 75% of the Spanish being spoken. It was made harder by the fact that the woman was French and had a unique accent, but that handicap was balanced out by the fact that we were sitting in the front row and I was able to see her lips moving (and a lot of spit!) which helps a lot.

Once the show got underway, I quickly realized that the play was going to be completely different from anything I could have ever imagined! It was essentially a one-woman production who played all characters but had two side-kicks primarily for setting and musical purposes. The lighting, props, and staging displayed incredible ingenuity and creativity. During one interlude, I watched incredulously as they turned an accordion, bass clarinet and saxophone into a sultry trio. Later, she portrayed both sides of a jousting match between Tybalt and Mercurtio and seamlessly conveyed both sides of the stabbing. In the final act, she depicted mourning Romeo stabbing himself next to “dead” (ragdoll) Juliet. As he died and Juliet came back to life, the dress from the ragdoll was transferred to the actress becoming conscious Juliet and inanimate Romeo. It was powerfully and imaginatively done.

The production held my attention in an enjoyable way and was certainly one of the most unique performances I’ve ever seen regardless of language or location! The Carolyn who learned animal noises in 9th grade Spanish had no idea that nearly 15 years later that knowledge would enable me to enjoy play in El Salvador in a more complete way (I was able to laugh along with the crowd at “quiquiriqui”, which definitely wasn’t true at other points.) I wonder what I’m learning today that will somehow enhance a life experience 15 years from now. What an exciting potentiality!

Community-Aided Cooking

In the complejo, I’m surrounded by many people who cook exciting recipes with high-quality ingredients in a well-done manner. This factor coupled with seeing homemade pizza as multiple peoples’ lunch inspired me to make my foray into cooking here in El Salvador. Friday after school while I was in the grocery store, I made a mental list of the things I would need to make homemade pizza without actually consulting any recipes (not recommended) and ended up with Bisquick for the crust, spaghetti sauce for the marinara and a nice variety of veggies and cheese for the topping. I felt confident that I had the ingredients necessary to produce homemade pizza!

I stopped by friend #1’s house who happens to be a foodie and mentioned that I was attempting pizza crust from Bisquick and while she was skeptical, she googled if it was possible and realized that there’s a recipe online, therefore doable! When I arrived home, I realized that I didn’t have a pizza pan, so I had to go over and borrow one from friend #2’s house (I’d bought a brownie pan and she’d bought a jelly roll pan to share!). As I began to measure out the 3 cups of Bisquick, I realized that I didn’t have any measuring cups, but I channeled my Nigerian skills of estimating amounts from a drinking glass and pressed on. After pressing the somewhat biscuit-like dough (surprise, surprise!) into the pan, I reached for the spaghetti sauce and realized it was a can which needed a can opener, so I went next door to neighbor #3 for a can opener and was informed I should be using tomato paste instead (which I may have known had I consulted a recipe before purchasing ingredients). I decided to borrow a little oregano and call it pizza sauce! They were leery about this Bisquick/spaghetti sauce pizza, but I assured them with forced confidence it would be good.

After loading the pizza up with green and red peppers, onions, mushrooms, olives and plenty of cheese I actually convinced myself it was going to be good. To my satisfaction, as I took it out of the oven, it smelled heavenly! Now, the crust was a little on the biscuity side, but it was delicious! I’m already thinking about different toppings I can use on my next one and how to maybe try a real flour crust. Nevertheless, I’ll proudly bring my pizza to lunch tomorrow to display the fruits of a community endeavor. While it may lack authenticity, it is seasoned with the joy of the process which couldn’t be more delectable. :)

(I now have accumulated quite a list of both foods and cooking utensils to aid in the success of the next endeavor!)

Making a Difference

My new students’ parents are CEO’s, surgeons, politicians and important people in general. My students at my most recent school had parents who were often in jail, looking for work or working 3 jobs to put food on the table. While the former position was often more challenging, it was very satisfying to know that I was building relationships and educating students (or at least trying to) who were often overlooked, ignored or forgotten. In my new job, I was initially struggling with the fact that my students’ families here are ridiculously wealthy and I was no longer needed. In fact, I am teaching students that are the children of the Salvadoran elite. They have drivers, nannies and maids. However, over the past month, I’ve come to realize that my students here have more in common with my students living in poverty than I initially realized; many of their parents are not around. These students are looking for love, attention and acceptance from anywhere they can find it. They may be more polite in their approach, but many of them are just as needy for approval. Absent parents due to working 3 jobs or multiple month-long business trips abroad produce similar results only one is masked with material possessions.

Making a difference last year may have meant encouraging a student not to get into any physical altercations in the evenings or convincing a student that stealing really isn’t the best way to get what they need. Making a difference this year might mean impacting someone so that they are compelled to make environmentally-friendly or socially-conscious decisions when they inherit the family fortune or become president of El Salvador. Believe it or not, the former is easier for me to stomach in my “making a difference” mindset. It’s hard for me to recognize that the latter is valuable and important as well and not just making myself feel better in a cush situation. In fact, in the end, these students could end up having a really influential impact on the most vulnerable members of society based on the decisions that they make. Teaching them well means hope for the powerless (hopefully)!

A Driver for Supplies?

As a science teacher who has taught in numerous locations, I’m all too familiar with the never-ending battle of acquiring lab supplies in a timely and convenient fashion while trying to minimize expenses for myself initially and the school ultimately. Here in El Salvador, my science department is extremely well-equipped with the most organized and complete chemistry storeroom (bodega) I’ve ever seen and a physics bodega that would leave most schools drooling. However, after deciding to introduce my new students into the world of Whole Class Inquiry (having the class work together as a unit to solve a problem) I realized that I had neither baking soda, vinegar nor a sufficient number of ziplock baggies to accomplish this task. Of course, I decided this the night before I wanted to do the lab, and it was dark meaning I could no longer walk to the store to purchase these materials due to safety precautions.

While going door to door in the complejo trying to scrounge up enough for my first period before being able to walk to the store, someone mentioned to me that one of the drivers at the school will be happy to take me during my prep period. I figured, great, but I’m sure they need a certain amount of advanced notice, or some special form completed or signature obtained before this could become a reality. To my astonishment, I emailed the Transportation Coordinator requesting a vehicle and driver to take me to the grocery store at 11:45 that day for lab supplies. He replied, no problem, the driver will be waiting for you at the front of the school. I was cautiously optimistic that this lab just might happen.

My cautious optimism transitioned to unabashed giddiness when I came down the stairs from my classroom to find the driver there waiting for me, on time, with the door opened to greet me! Jorge, the driver, questioned me about where I needed to go and what I wanted to buy. Thankfully, I’d made note of the packaging from the baking soda to know that it was carbonate in Spanish so I was able to tell him that. But the process of me trying to remember the Spanish word for vinegar, resulted in Jorge being under the impression that I needed to by either wine or alcohol which didn’t seem to concern him in the least. After zipping around the grocery store in the most efficient manner, we determined that the first place didn’t have enough baking soda, so we bought what they did have and went on to a second location to complete the expedition. Jorge and I had a great conversation and got to know a lot about each other during this 40 minute excursion. The whole time I was practicing my Spanish and he was practicing his English and we definitely helped each other out when we got stuck!

When we returned to the school, Jorge helped me carry the 4 gallons of vinegar up to my classroom and I tipped him as is customary in the Salvadoran culture. Not only had he been a great driver and efficient store guide but we also had great conversation that was mutually beneficial for our second language acquisition! I proceeded down to the high school office where I was able to put my name and “Science Department” on the receipt and give it to the secretary and supposedly that’s all I need to go to get repaid. The efficacy of this last part of the process remains to be seen, but all the previous steps pretty much rocked my world, and I’m tickled to report that after the whole surprisingly simple process, the lab even went well! :)