I would say that it feels like home, but that would be a lie.

It’s getting there though. I’m starting to gain some ground here – learn about where I am as I wander the streets (don’t worry madre) and venture to the Super Mercado. I’ve always been a person who is more or less (mas o menos) easily well adjusted to new places, but this whole orientation thing has kept us on a pretty tight schedule with little room to roam.

Yesterday was a pretty weird/random/fun day. Starting in the morning, we went to our second to last praxis site (El Cedro – The Cedar), where there were probably 7,289,457 children awaiting our arrival. Yes, I’m that over exaggerating girl Dane Cook talks about. Seriously, there were at least 80, maybe 100. All had their best clothes on. Winnie the Pooh is huge here. So we arrive at the comedor – or soup kitchen – where 100 children receive their food every day. There is also a kinder and a pre-kinder. We took a tour of the grounds, including a preview of the new playground they are building which just happens to overlook the foothills leading into the Pacific Ocean. A view that would cost millions in the US is the same view occupied by a simple cement comedor that just has enough money to fund this playground. We then went into a little pavilion on one side of the building where the children were anxiously awaiting to perform. The 24 of us sat among them, asking how old they were and their names while they played with our digital cameras. Yes, a seven year old Deborah takes better pictures than me.

So those in the pre-kinder and kinder sang songs to us for a few minutes, then it was time for their lunch, which somehow turned into all of us gringos performing for them. On out set list was Vamos Todos (the song we sing before dinner), Casa Abierta (our “theme song”, which most of us carry the lyrics to), and Build Me Up Buttercup, to which needs no explanation. Roe decided to step for the kids too. And we danced for 45 minutes. I had Linda on my shoulders the whole time while doing my Irish rendition of salsa and meringue. All in all, we definitely embarrassed ourselves, which is fine. Dean Brackley, SJ, made a really good point the other night when he told us that we should want to be weak; want to be vulnerable here. It is better that we are broken. It is how we humanize ourselves - not so that we are at “their level” so to speak, but rather in a place of discomfort to just be mended by the solidarity and the hope of these Salvadorans.

So that was the day. We also went to Las Delicias, where we were shown the home of Evelyn. I guess the best way to describe the homes in most of the rural communities are like something out of Swiss Family Robinson – surrounded by mango, orange, and plantain trees and orchid blossoms.

As if this isn’t long enough already, I still have the night to cover. One of the funny things about being an American student here is that you see everything and everyone. What I mean by that is that the hospitality is shown to you from all social classes, which is not a commonality between Salvadorans.

Exhibit A: My first bar. Let in by a man we encountered on the street. Invited to a table of Salvadorans – rich Salvadorans. Tool-bagness begins with a round of questioning on relationship status and phone numbers to the girls. Drinking ensues for free (none for me, on account of a promise). Juan Pablo, Pedro, y Roberto are not the greatest drunks. Mauricio, a chemistry student at the UCA, turns out to be a pretty nice and shy being – go figure, most chemistry students are tan amable (as friendly). All in all, they couldn’t get enough conversation.

So let’s just say that after the bar experience that I just don’t understand wealthy Salvadorans. Mauricio teaches in the poorer schools when he can, because he says the government here does not teach the reality in the public schools they can get a hold of.

Basically, last night left me confused and knowing that it’s not all rainbows and hope for the Salvadoran people. There are still the social distinctions. But there is progression. There is something. Praxis starts tomorrow (today by the time I post this) y tengo mucho pena (I have a lot of pena – Salvadoran for a form of social anxiety or shyness).