This week we participated in field based training, where groups of trainees go off together to visit a current volunteer and help them with their daily activities. We all left on Wed., not on public transportation but in vehicles with a PC staff member and a spanish teacher. Incidentally, one group of trainees was pulled over to the side of the road en route to their volunteer's site by four men in masks - they, along with two other vehicles, were robbed of their money by gunpoint. I'm mentioning this not to freak anyone out (Dad) but just to show that anything really can happen at anytime, depending on situational circumstances, and also to say that my three PCT buds are now hands down the official badasses of the group.

It's been a bit of a tumultuous past few weeks. Last week my host community group wateched the movie "voces inocentes" - based on a true story of one family's experiences surviving the civil war here in the 1980's, featuring a single mom and her three kids. We watched it in the morning portion of class, and it really threw me for a loop. I've seen films about disasters and wars in the past, but those have always been in controlled situations - in school, when I can return home to my comfortable life thousands of miles away from where the chaos occurred, where the history is different and I'm worlds apart from what I viewed. This time things were different - the movie was profoundly sad and realistic, moreso because I'm living in the country it was filmed in and the war ended just 14 years ago. Walking down the street back to my house for lunch afterwards, I couldn't help but think as I looked at and greeted people that they either lived through this war or know someone who fought or died in it. That's huge for me - someone who has no concept of war, death and destruction, despite learning about it happening to other, less fortunate people living in different times than myself. The family in the movie were innocent bystanders, yet they watched their friends and families suffer in the crossfire between the guerrillas and the army, their house burn to the ground, their neighbor's children be recruited into the army at 10 years of age, and their country fall to pieces. And that story was based on truth, a truth that ended here only in 1992, and still there are those who align with the left and the right - the divisions in this country are as real now as ever. Just a few weeks ago there was a protest in the capital over the rising gas prices, where two police officers were shot and killed and the frente side took the blame for it. There is death and destruction every day in the USA, but it didn't factor into my life because I only read about it, then returned to my safe lifestyle. I'm not experiencing negative things here, but the dangers and the history of El Salvador hit me like a ton of bricks because I'm not in my comfort zone, surrounded by loved ones to process the difficult information. I apologize if this is a bit depressing, its just my thought process at the moment.

On the other hand, that same day we had to give our charlas, or talks, to our classes in the school. I was nervous as hell about talking to my class, the same bunch of out of controll 4th graders who jumped all over me the day I went to observe class. My spanish still isn't that great, the noise of recess outside the class was deafening and the kids didn't quite understand the directions of my games. Despite all that, they seemed to have a good time and asked me at the end when I'd be returning to the school again. It was a great high after the fact to have spoken to those kids for 45 minutes - I don't have a public speaking phobia, but I was out of my element and it felt great to push myself and accomplish something substancial as a trainee. The other charlas went smoothly as well, so by the end of the day we were all ridiculously happy. Talk about a roller coaster of emotions- all in one day I went from as low as it gets to feeling confident and proud. They teach us during training that these roller coaster, whirlwind emotions are normal, potentially on a daily basis, for PCV's worldwide. I'm not sure how I'll deal with it - the stress of it is already getting to me - but I'm confident that if others have done it before me and are currently going through it, there's hope yet for me.

Field-based training was a great experience this past weekend. I traveled to Jocoro, Morazon in the eastern part of the country to visit and work with a married couple, Kris and Haunnah. We gave more charlas - one to a class of 9th grade girls about to plan for their futures and the other to a group of community members regarding how to best research and plan out projects for their towns. Again, the thought of giving charlas was terrifying, but I'm glad to have given them, particularly to the class of girls. After the talk a few of them approached us- one girl wanted to know more about the future we had chosen, to volunteer for a few years in another country, because she is interested in doing something similar after high school. We were thrilled to talk to her about the opportunities available to her, even more thrilled to know that she sees a future for herself that involves more than just starting a family right away or traveling to the USA. Haunnah has started a great initiative at this school- she's taught 2nd year girls to give talks to their peers regarding self esteem, leadership, civic education, etc., in an attempt to empower the girls and teach them of their options for the future. I'm not a fan of charlas, but if I can implement something sustainable like that at my site, I figure its "vale la pena" or worth the pain.

We were able to help the PCVs organize a BINGO night, which seemed to go over really well. It was a bit embarassing sitting in a car driving around town and announcing over a loudspeaker that were were throwing a BINGO night beforehand, but fun none the less. I stayed with a baptist family for the training and there was a "culta" or service Thursday night in their house. Culta was a little bit like what I imagine an AA meeting to be like - because it was my first time there, I had to stand up, say my name and share three things about myself that I wanted to ask forgiveness for, and the leader of the group then absolved me of my sins. I appreciate all the blessings I can get, so I suppose there's no harm in it really. Anyway the people were friendly and I was glad to have experienced something different from the Catholic services I've been attending with my host mom, Antonia. Religion is such an important aspect of this country - Antonia's kitchen is wallpapered with pictures of Jesus and the pope, and when I first commented on it she immediately asked me if I'm Catholic and asked me to join her for 6am Sunday mass. I enjoy going to church here - the celebration really is beautiful in Spanish. My only concern is that now that I've started going to church, there's no getting out of it. The weekend I was sick I missed mass, only to find out from Antonia that she had spoken to God for me and explained to him why I wasn't there that day. It's really sweet that she's lookin out for me and praying for me. I'd like it to be my choice when I go to church and I figure I can communicate with God for myself, but she's just being culturally appropriate and I appreciate her thoughtfulness.

Sorry that this turned out to be such a long entry - if you're still reading at this point I appreciate it! Thanks to everyone who has kept in such good tough - for the pictures from my family and the card from Nicole especially. There's one more month of tranining before I'm on my own and I really start begging everyone for letters, so please plan accordingly.I'm missing friends and family very much and continue to think of you. Hasta luego!

Culture Shock

I´m a little bit amazed and surprised at how quickly I´ve become comfortable living in my training community of St. Domingo. All the trainees spent 5 days away from our towns last week for immersion days, which was no doubt a good experience, but I was thrilled to get off the bus at St. Domingo upon returning today. I´ve only lived in this town for four weeks, but walking up the few streets there are here and arriving at my host family´s home is probably the closest thingI have to familiarity here. My host mom said that she missed me while I was away, and I couldn´t believe how good it felt to hear that. Ten weeks of training really is enough time to become emotionally invested in a host family and community - now I´m starting to realize how difficult it will be to leave here in six weeks. At the same time, the fact that this place is a home away from home after a month gives me hopethat I´ll experience something similar in August when I swear in and get a site for two years.

Immersion day visit was interesting in many ways. I lived in the canton, or countryside, with a family for two days before staying with the PCV stationed in Comalapa (the pueblo outside the canton) Friday to Saturday. The countryside was beautiful- I walked a half hour from the town to get to my house and there was a completely different world from one side to the other. Everything is greener, quieter, more spacious. My host senora lives with just her 7 year old grandson, who sort of stared at me all the first day and then used me as his junglegym the next. There wasn´t much going on in the canton - the one time I left the house was Thursday to walk a half block to the store for soda and squash. Roberto, the grandson, and his two cousins were a great source of entertainment -once they warmed up to me we practiced their reading for school, played hopscotch and I taught them how to juggle (not really - they´re working on throwing and catching one rock successfully right now and often times miss and hit each other, but I have high hopes). Overall it was a good experience to live in a canton for a few days - I saw firsthand how people live without basic amenities such as water and electricity, as many do in El Salvador. The people I was lucky enough to meet were warm and welcoming, as was my host family- the only snag of the two days was when the senora tried to feed me chicken nuggets encrusted with dead ants. I thought it was seasoning at first before I noticed the legs, and I´m praying that by some chance the senora was mistaken as well. I couldn´t tell her I wasn´t going to eat them for fear of offending her, so I sucked it up and chowed down. Just kidding - I fed them to the dog when she wasn´t looking.

Friday was a good day as well - the PCV Stephanie is also my mentor and she did a great job of showing me around and introducing me to her friends and coworkers. It was difficult to explain what I was doing there -try telling someone that you´re a PC trainee, not a volunteer yet, who is only in their site for two days to basically kick it in the countryside, but you´re not doing any work for them, you´re not staying, and you´re not there to be anyone´s girlfriend, in Spanish. I´m thinking I´m going to start carrying around a sheet of paper explaining who I am and what I´m about to read off to people, along with the correct pronunciation of my name "Er-in."

Saturday there was a 4th of July celebration at the Sheraton hotel in San Salvador, put on by the US Embassy, and so all PC folk bused into the capital for that. The hotel was like some kind of tropical resort - talk about a contrast from the countryside. It was extremely fun to spend a few days meeting many of the current PCV´s and to just chill out, eat a hamburger, swim and drink a beer. About half of the trainees ended up splurging on a $100 room at the hotel to stay the night so that we could continue the good time. It was incredibly relaxing and ridiculously weird to do something so "normal" for two days - if PC´s objective is to culture shock the hell out of us, or at least offer us opportunities to do it to ourselves, they´re doing a great job. I had a hard time digesting that on Sunday -just a few days before I was hiking on a dirt road to a place in the middle of nowhere, and on Saturday I was lying on a lounge chair, speaking English with Americans and staring at a beautiful pool. Now I´m back in St. Domingo, somewhere in between the two extremes. As nice as it was to hang with the other trainees in the lap of luxury this weekend, I couldn´t seem to just relax and enjoy it - its too bizarre going back and forth between such opposites. The real El Salvador is what we saw on immersion days - I don´t look down on the people we saw hanging in this hotel, but I wonder if they´re aware of what the living conditions are likejust beyond the front lobby. Again, I can´t help but think about home and how aware I was a month ago of what some people live like just beyond my own front door. I spoke to another trainee about how relatively our service of two years can be viewed- it may seem like a long time, but I know that in two years I´m going to return to a comfortable life in the States, with a healthy family and group of friends (God willing) and all the opportunities in the world at my feet. I´m hoping to live for a long time yet, so in the grand scheme of things two years is a blink of the eye. In two years here, Roberto from the canton will still be living in the countryside, getting through third grade and talking to his parents via phone because they live in the US and he doesn´t have dual citizenship so he can´t join them. I know this is a bunch of philosophical pondering, I guess I just realize how lucky I am to have the opportunity to see what life is like here, and how even luckier I am to be returning home in two years.

I´ve gone on enough for now with my babbling so I´ll leave it at this. Thanks to everyone who has sent me emails lately, I love reading about what´s up at home. Lisa and Steve, congratulations on getting your new house! Don´t let anyone put their fist through the foundation again. Aaron, keep on fighting the good PC fight in Morocco -I´m proud of you. I miss everyone at home and think of you often, as always, so please continue to keep in touch! God bless.