Do you remember...text me!!

Do you remember...
Do you remember what it felt like to be a kid on a really windy day? When you could lay into the wind and it would hold you up because you were so light?

Well, apparently after the torrential downpours in October, we enter the "dry season" here in El Salvador, which means no rain. Ever. And LOTS of wind. Wind that is so strong, I swear it could hold up my 170 pounds (or 160, or whatever I am) with no problem. (I haven't had any work trips to hotels with scales recently, Jim.) As I was sitting on the corner waiting for my bus today, I watched people disappear. Or so it seemed. Because most of the streets are unpaved (i.e. dirt and rocks) here, when there is wind without rain, there is just a constant cloud of dirt that moves around. So you see people in the street, then a gust of wind that pulls a wave of dirt up into the air, hiding everything. And when you're walking, you need to either keep your eyes shut, or cover them up. It makes for interesting walks since it's necessary to pass over a variety of small boulders during the walk. There is so much wind that when I woke up today, there was a small layer of dirt covering my stuff in my room. And the windows are CLOSED!! I have NO idea how it managed to get in! So...that was the intro to my day today: lots of dirt to contend with.

And I thought when I left my canton, I had experienced the full breadth of the wind. Nope. On the bus, we entered a traffic jam. I thought, "Well, that's weird. There is never a lot of traffic here. There must have been some sort of accident." When we finally reached the problem area, do you know what it was that caused the problem?? One of the highway signs (and I'm talking sturdy signs...just like the ones over American highways) had been blown over by the wind! I mean, not just the green part. The ENTIRE structure had broken in half from the wind and was covering the highway. And this huge machine was moving it out of the way. I couldn't believe it!! And then, we reached the bus terminal and I was walking to my next bus when I noticed that there was a sprinkler on in the middle of this open area. And I thought, "What the heck are they doing?? Watering...dirt??" And that's EXACTLY what they were doing. I assume to stop the dessert-like dirt waves that I witnessed in my community. Something I never thought I would see...sophisticated watering systems for...dirt. :)


Fijateque...
I heard from current volunteers that the word "fijateque" was severely overused in this country. I didn't realize until today the significance of that. I don't think I mentioned this in my last entry, but I had the breakdown I discussed after realizing that someone from my community stole my bank book out of my backpack. I think it was just that I was placing everything on the fact that I had dedication and trust from the people in my community. I could deal with not having a place to live. Not having money. Not having friends here. All of that, because I knew I could count on the people in my community. And then finding that my bank book was missing after a meeting with the community leaders. I just couldn't take it. So anyway, when I realized this, I attempted to immediately close my account and open a new one. You think that's easy? Fijateque, no. Here is what has transpired:

In the bank, day 1:
Michelle: I need to close my account because I think someone has my account number.

Teller: Can I please have your identification?

Michelle: My identification is inside my bank account book that was stolen. I don't have it.

Teller: We need your identification to do anything with your account.

Michelle: If someone has my account number, can't they use my money?

Teller: Not unless they have your signature.

Michelle: But if they have my signature, they can use the money, right?

Teller: Yes.

Michelle: So what happens if I come back tomorrow and all of the money is gone?

Teller: Fijateque, you won't have money.

Michelle: And there is no way I can close the account without ID since it was stolen?

Teller: No.

Michelle exits very irritated and has her breakdown in the middle of the mall.

In the bank, day 2:
Michelle: I need to close my account because I think someone has my account number.

Teller: Can I please have your identification?

Michelle hands over her Salvadoran government-issued ID.

Teller: Do you have a passport?

Michelle: Yes, but my organization keeps it in San Salvador in a safe.

Teller: Fijateque, we can't do anything without your passport.

Michelle: When I opened this account, you made copies of my passport, NIT (another government ID), and drivers' license. Can't you just use those to identify me?

Teller: Fijateque, no.

Michelle: Why not?

Teller: We have to have the original.

Michelle: Then WHY did you have to make copies of them??

Teller: Because we have to in order to open an account.

....Michelle asking about other people using money again....
....same answers getting nowhere again....

Michelle: I need to talk to your boss.

....Michelle explaining situation to boss....

Boss: Fijateque, we need to have your passport.

Michelle: Don't you trust YOUR government??! This identification was issued by THEM for me to work here for 2 years!! You have to see something from ANOTHER government to be able to help me with my SALVADORAN bank account??

Boss: Fijateque, those are the rules.

Michelle leaves VERY irritated. Runs into new next door neighbor right outside the bank and just vents in spanglish to him for about 10 minutes. He listens, reassures her that everything will be ok and then buys her some lunch. Michelle feels better and leaves for San Salvador to get her passport because, fijateque, nothing can be done without it. Michelle arrives 2 hours later in San Salvador, picks up her passport, starts reading emails in the office, gets out her notebook to start making notes about stuff, and watches her stolen bankbook fall out onto the floor.

That's right. 1 breakdown, 4 bank trips, 6 bus trips, and thousands of fijateques later, the problem that started the chain, the "stolen" bankbook, was right inside the backpack all along. Hiding inside the notebook. And after I shook my backpack like crazy, thinking my bankbook was hiding inside somewhere while my notebook sat alone on the table in front of me. Well...PUCHIKA! :)


You wanna talk...
So, I've been meaning to tell you this. There is a website that you can visit to send me text messages for free. I will need to pay $0.10 to send you responses, but the responses will go to the website that you use to send me a message. Does that make sense? If I can't answer you though (like if I'm in a dangerous area and don't want to see what the message is at that moment), then I'll still get your message and will just have to email you or call you later. Here is what you need to do to do this:

1. Visit http://www.tigo.com.sv/mensajito_interactivo.php.
2. There is an area in the top middle of the page that says, "Cel" and then should have "503". Next to that, you need to type my phone number "79382980".
3. Type your name in the next box. So it will say "De" (already there) and your name. Example: De Michelle.
4. Click on the red button that says, "Invitar o Adicionar Numero".
5. You should now be able to type a message into the first big box and click on "Enviar Mensaje" when you're done typing.
6. If I can, I will respond and my response will appear on your screen.

Que chivo, huh? (Chivo=cool in english.) Oh, and I just tried this. The first time, I didn't get the message. But the second time I did. So I hope it was just a fluke the first time. It might be good to send me an email to tell me you tried it out if you don't hear back from me.

Well, that's about it for me!! I miss ya!