let's get cooking

While here in El Salvador, I have become a permanent fixture in the kitchen. This is not because I feel the need to experience the joys of cooking, but because it was part of the job assignment. However, my mother would be very proud if she knew the level of Martha-Stewartiness to which I have been exposed. We hardly eat anything that we haven’t grown, and this makes me realize how much work actually goes into something as simple as granola. Back in the day, my mother made granola out of sliced almonds, oatmeal, and the like--all things that could be bought at the store in handy little bags, ready for assembly in my mother’s kitchen. I heard a rumor that here we have granola on Sabbath mornings, but I had forgotten about it after we had swirls of bread that loosely resembled cinnamon rolls for the first Sabbath’s breakfast. But then, during the morning work time one day, I was given a bowl full of roasted peanuts and told to skin them all. (It was then that I realized why I had been craving Pad Thai the night before, but that’s another story.) It turned out not to be so bad as I had originally thought, and when it came to crushing them all, I had a feeling of satisfaction, knowing that the crushing of the peanuts was their final destination as well as my final job for the day.
During my time in the kitchen, I have come to appreciate the kitchen workers of Big Lake Youth Camp all the more. There are days when I am the unofficially-designated Dish Girl and I moan inwardly when I see the same bowl or cutting-board come around for the fifth time that morning. (This morning I washed the same bowl twice because it had “a bad smell.” The bowl was metal. How could it have a bad smell? At least they gave me some bleach to wash it with the second time and I enjoyed the smell of germs dying, so I washed my water bottle as well.) Then there are other days (which are more frequent) when I am simply the veggie-chopper. My “specialty” has become the rice dish we eat for every lunch—3 carrots, 1 onion, and 2 or 3 bell peppers. The carrots are to be shredded, while the other two ingredients are to be diced. One evil morning when the kitchen was out to get me, the cheese-grater decided it had had enough of carrots and potatoes, so why not eat me instead? In the end I had three bloody fingers and was very happy for the water-proof Winnie-the-Pooh bandages my mother had sent with me. But back to the rice: When I am preparing the rice dish, I may or may not have to sort the rice as well. In the beginning, sorting eight cups of rice took me two and a half hours. Luckily, about half-way through the sorting process, Scott (the male missionary in our house) walked by and asked if I wanted to borrow his CD player. A light turned on in my head and I remembered—iPod. So I ran to get mine and spend the next hour or so listening to Adventures in Odyssey. The second time sorting took me over two hours as well and I was kept company by the tunes from the Broadway musical “Annie” (only realizing the irony of me listening to songs about an orphanage while I’m actually in an orphanage by the third song) and the songs of the Beach Boys. However, the third and fourth times I’ve sorted rice have each taken me less than an hour, so I am definitely improving.

farmer tan

Yes, I am finally beginning to work on the dreaded farmer tan. And no, no matter what the song may say, every girl does NOT want a man with a farmer tan, much less want one for herself. Yesterday was a family outing day. We went to a water park and it was quite the adventure. In my mind I pictured the water parks of the United States--wave pools, slow-moving 'rivers,' and at least five different water slides of death. Knowing, of course, that I am not IN the United States, I prepared myself to be disappointed, but did not prepare myself quite enough. There were four pools, one slide, and a high-dive. That was cool, because as far as I could remember, none of the pools that I'd been to had ever had a high-dive. The kids had fun, and the three boys under my care did what any normal kid would do--find the thing they like the best and then do it over and over and over again. Manuel took to the high dive while Nico preferred the slide. Tony was more timid and preferred to jump back and forth between the kiddie pool and the water slide splash pool. I tried to teach him a few things about swimming because he said he couldn't swim. However, none of it really sank in. He can swim a little bit, but it's almost as if he thinks he's going to get where he wants to go without moving his arms or legs in any sort of rapid, coordinated manner. He would push off from the wall, kick once or twice, and then move his arms a bit, and hopefully end up where I was standing in the middle of the water. It was great fun. However, I wore a shirt for the entire day for reasons of sun protection and fitting in with the local picture of modesty. The result was the beginnings of a farmer tan. Oh well.
In other news, I've started to become something of a rebel. Sabbath afternoon there was an activity for the kids in the multi-uso. I went around at about 3:00 to get the kids together for the activity. As the kids began to congregate in the sala, Papi Pedro came out and said that the kids couldn't go because the activity wasn't until 3:30. I told him it was at 3:00, because it was. Then he said that they couldn't go unless they were wearing their Sabbath clothes, then that just the girls couldn't go because they weren't wearing dresses. I tried to convince him that they didn't need to be wearing their Sabbath clothes because they would be running around. He was apalled at the very idea. I said that just because it was Sabbath didn't mean that they needed to wear the same clothes all day, and that God loves us no matter what we wear. He had no response for that. The older girls said it wasn't that important and decided not to go. So I went with the other kids to the multi-uso. While we were there, the older girls made a break for it, and I had to go back and tell the adults that it was ok for the girls to wear shorts because the other girls were wearing shorts. They didn't buy it, and I left. After the activity, the girls came and told me thanks for waking them up for the activity and that they respected me. Then the parents started talking to the kids and telling them that I shouldn't have taken them to the activity and that it was all my fault and that I shouldn't go on the Sunday excursion. The kids came back and told me this and kept telling me, "Don't worry, don't worry." It felt nice to have the kids on my side. It turned out that nothing like that happened. I went on the excursion and all was well. We'll see how things go after this.

The Adventure Begins

Greetings, one and all! I arrived in El Salvador almost two weeks ago on August 21st and was met with the first of many challenges: navigating through customs. Of course everyone spoke Spanish, and the words used when going through customs are quite unique, but I survived pretty well just by guessing. I spent most of my time in line wondering if I was, indeed, in the correct line. Well, they didn´t turn me away or even search my bags, so all was well. Next challenge: finding my ride. It proved a little more difficult than expected because not once did I see someone holding a sign saying anything like what I was looking for. I saw signs for the Marriott, pictures of taxi vans, and a few random last names scattered about, but none of them were mine. To make a long story short, I ended up taking a taxi--alone--to the orphanage in San Juan Opico. My mother would have died. I was quite near dying from fright myself, imagining possible endings to my life, but needless to say, I arrived safely and unharmed.
The past two weeks have involved much struggling with Spanish and learning that even I, the bastion of independence, have the capacity to get homesick. Fortunately, by the time the first week was over, I had gotten past the crying stages of homesickness and was starting to feel more like myself. This past Tuesday I began working in my assigned job. I work in the kitchen in the morning supposedly from 7-10:30, but it ends up being from 7:00 until whenever everything gets finished. Lunch is around 12:00 and afternoon work begins at 1:00 and goes until 4:00. During that time I am in charge of 5 girls. I am to make sure they do their work, work alongside them for encouragement, and then entertain and watch over them during any left-over time we might have. Every day there has been at least one girl who has refused to work or refused to do the work that I have asked her to do, and that can get rather tiring. But today I have made progress: I worked the entire morning, spending the last 2 and a half hours sorting rice grains, and was able to keep my spirits up almost effortlessly. Then in the afternoon, one of the girls refused to work and three of the others had trouble even getting up to start work. But for some reason, I was almost emotionally detached, reasoning with them and warning them of the consequences of their actions in a level voice. I ended up sending Roxanna to her room, and she didn´t go willingly, but I just barely avoided having to pick her up and move her there myself. Once in her room she started yelling, but I couldn´t tell what she was saying and I was working in the other end of the house, so it didn´t bother me a bit. All in all, it was a really good day. I think I´m finally getting the hang of it.
Well, that´s all I have for now. Internet is down at the Hogar, so anytime I use the internet I have to go into town to use it, so updates may be extremely irregular. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. Adios!