Up until last Sunday, I really thought I’d seen it all in El Salvador. Looking back, I should have known better—if Peace Corps teaches you anything, it is to always expect the unexpected. That lesson usually has more to do with people being late or just not showing up to meetings, natural disasters, power outages, etc., but regardless…I certainly was not expecting what I walked into Sunday afternoon.

On my way back from a weekend at the beach, I had decided to make a mid-day detour to San Salvador to run a few errands. Walking down the street of a familiar neighborhood, I saw two classic cars, and I mean cool classic cars, clearly just washed and highly polished, parked a bit down a side street.

I was tired and not exactly running at full speed after a late night at the beach, but decided to investigate. To me, that decision to “investigate,” just slow down, poke around a bit, and see what is going on, is what Peace Corps is all about. Looking back at the 18 months I’ve already logged in El Salvador, a great many of my most treasured memories aren’t from any planned activities; fun, or if not technically fun, at least memorable, comes from spontaneity—at least in Latin America.

So, I delayed my day’s plans and walked down the block to see the 2 cars that had caught my attention—cars that would have caught your attention in the States, just one, and in El Salvador…well, they really caught my attention. Turns out, I stumbled on a “meeting” of the El Salvador American Classic Car Collectors Association. Yeah…I didn’t know that “Association” existed either. Anyways, not just 2, but about 25, clearly very wealthy Salvadoran men were in a small restaurant chit-chatting and back-slapping while on this out-of-the-way, off-the-map San Salvador side street was parked the most amazing collection of cars I’d even seen.

Figuring I had nothing to lose, and knowing being white and American can usually get you into just about any event/club/party in El Salvador, I walked into the restaurant, ordered a beer, and started talking. Fast forward to two hours later, and I was just getting back to the restaurant after being brought for my fourth quick joy ride in one of the many unforgettable automobiles members of this exclusive “club” had shown up with today.

One guy even brought me to his house to see his other two classic cars, which he lamented about, exclaiming, “I wanted to bring all three of my cars to the meeting, but I can only drive one—my wife…I don’t allow her to even dream of driving my babies.” Then he made me a cocktail and asked me if I’d drive one, following him back to the event, so he could at least show off two of his cars. Don’t ask me why a young American who he had met less than an hour earlier, was drinking, struggles mightily to drive standard, and had no driver’s license with him was more trustworthy that his wife…

Regardless, I politely declined, way too scared to get behind the wheel of a car worth about a jillion times more that the couple hundred dollars Peace Corps pays me monthly, and went back to the party with my newfound friend behind the wheel. Only upon deciding the leave the party a few hours later, having happily given up on getting my errands done, did I realize I should snap a few pictures of some of the remaining cars, so following are a few of the better ones:

A Few Photos From The Past Month

November 2^nd was Dia de Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) across all of Latin America and to celebrate everyone goes to the cemetery to decorate the graves of their deceased family members amid a quite festive atmosphere—bands, food vendors, church choirs, and clowns. It is one of my favorite Salvadoran customs as it is a day meant for family members to return to the graves of their loved ones amid cheerful surroundings and treasure the happy memories of the dead, in comparison with the States, where returning to a cemetery is usually considered a somber, sad experience.





In a nearby community, El Milagro, I have been working with a women’s group who was already well-organized and had been selling bread they baked every Saturday for a few years. I have been teaching them to make shampoo and hair gel and they have been selling it in conjunction with the bread they already sell every weekend, meaning with little to no extra work, they can bring in more profits.
This past Friday, a non-profit organization I often work with named ASAPROSAR held a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a newly-completed washing facility in a nearby community called El Jute. ASAPROSAR is responsible for the environmentally-protected area near my community, where I have spent much time hiking, camping, and exploring, and helping with numerous projects. This washing facility was built by a river just outside of the protected area to give women an alternative to washing their clothes in the river, where their soap contaminates the water, killing animal species and plant life and contaminating drinking water for downstream communities. The washing facility is fed by the river water, but has a natural filtering system, meaning that before the water returns to the river, it is completely decontaminated.




The next few photos are just a few I shot while hanging out with a family in another nearby community named Casa Blanca. I got to know this family really well while working with them a lot in the past to improve the efficiency and health of their stoves. I have since become good friends with them and often stop by just to hang out. The young boy in the picture immediately below is among my favorites, not just because he is real cute and refuses to wear pants (makes for a pretty cool kid in my book) but has also been taught a lot by some of his older cousins. He lives near a school, so every afternoon all the teenage girls walk by his house. He has learned to yell “Hola mamacita” to the teenage girls when they pass every day, and if they don’t respond to him, he quickly adds, “Salud, puta!” (in an effort to keep this blog family-friendly with a PG-rating, I won’ translate that, but I’m sure there are a few websites that can get across the basic premise). Cute, pantless, a quick learner, and packs an attitude—quite the 2-year-old!

5 Feet of Rain and a Big Dead Snake

Nearing the end of my second rainy season in El Salvador, I thought I had seen the best of what tropical rain storms had to give—then came last week. I’ve made it through multiple earthquakes and hurricanes during my 16 months in El Salvador, but the rain storms that hit El Salvador between the 12^th and 19^th of October definitely set the bar a little higher for the constant barrage of natural disasters that make Central America such a lively place.

In 8 days, we got 1.5 meters of rain. That’s about 5 feet—58 inches to be a bit more exact. El Salvador’s average annual rainfall is 1.8 meters, and we had already hit that mark for the year, even before the most recent rains. Across El Salvador, and most of Central America, that meant problems (with aquifers already full and soil unable to hold anymore water) such as severe flooding and landslides. The most recent numbers I’ve seen for El Salvador 34 dead, over 56,000 evacuated from their homes and in shelters, and over 1,000,00 affected, all in a country the size of Massachusetts.

The good news, at least for me and my community, San Luis, is that we are relatively high and very hilly, meaning we were in much less danger. The majority of the really bad damage in El Salvador was in low-lying areas near rivers and in the coastal zones. While crops were damaged, San Luis came out on the better end of that situation as well. While 45% of the national corn crop and 60% of the bean harvest are estimated lost, San Luis’s losses were much less, and will be more than made up for by the now much higher prices for basic grains. Farmers in my community, in a strange twist, will now end up making more money from their crop, since although they will have a little less to sell they will be selling it at much higher prices.

During my week of torrential rain, I basically went into hibernation mode, with absolutely no desire or need to leave my house. In all, I ate Oreos, watched about 10 movies (Machete and Resevoir Dogs are new favorites and I was pleasantly reminded why I used to like Shawshank Redemption so much), ate more Oreos, read 5 books, finished all 10 1-hour episodes of a World War II documentary (Band of Brothers), then ate more Oreos. It literally would rain for 12 hours straight, drizzle for an hour or two, then go right back to downpour-status…nd I relaxed in my hammock through all of it. While the first 3 or 4 days were actually kind of nice and I very quickly learned to enjoy the forced period of relaxation, the last 3 days certainly got a bit painful and found me playing a lot more Solitaire than I ever though I’d play, at least before my post-retirement days.

The only serious damage to San Luis was the effect of the rain’s runoff on the road. There is just one road in San Luis, and although it was hardly passable in anything but a pickup before, it became difficult to even walk by the end of the deluge. So I convinced the nearby sugar cane processing factory to donate the use of one of its heavy tractors and the sugar cane cooperative to lend us three of their large trucks on Saturday, and all the men of the community came out to “repair” the road. My plan got off to a rough start when one man started trimming overgrown roadside weeds with a Weed Whacker the sugar plant had also loaned me for the day. Little did I know, no one in San Luis had ever seen a Weed Whacker before. Also, little did I know, apparently Weed Whackers are very interesting to those who have never seen them before. Everything was delayed an hour and a half (on top of the normal Salvadoran two-hour delay just because people are always very late) while everyone watched the Weed Whacker make quick work of the overgrown grasses then one man, still drunk from the night before, joke about cutting his beard with the spinning plastic, then end up having to go home early with quite a few mean bruises across face.

In the end, however, the day was highly successful, and San Luis’s road is once again passable. Some pictures of the day’s work are included below, along with a picture of a giant snake me and a kid from my community killed during a quick break in the rain. He took it home and his Mom cooked it up for dinner; I really wanted to go over and at least try a bite or two, but by that time it had once again started pouring rain and I decided again roasted snake and in favor of my hammock.

Lizard for Lunch?

Yesterday I was walking back to my community from the nearby sugar cane cooperative, about a 20-minute trek through fields of sugar cane, when a friend of mine, Victor Ramirez, passed by in his truck and offered to give me a ride back to my house.

Halfway home, he spied a lizard crossing the road and quickly turned off the truck, whipped out his sling shot, alertly, quickly, and silently leaped out of the truck to find a rock, then in one smooth movement sent the rock hurtling toward the lizard, still ambivalently sunning itself in the middle of the road.

It was a direct hit to the head of the lizard, stunning it long enough for Victor to tie it up, still alive, to bring home and later have his wife cook for lunch. Though this lizard was definitely on the small end of what I’ve seen Salvadorans eat, Victor claimed the small ones have tastier meat.

Salvadorans usually eat lizard meat fried in a pan with oil and chunks of tomato with a mix of spices. It definitely doesn’t taste like chicken…or fish, or pork, or anything else. I don’t know how to describe the taste—I guess you’ll just have to try it for yourself.

Stoves, Fish, and Puppies

Getting ready for the trip back to my site from Sonsonate, where the stove factory is located. We had to make two trips to get all 75 stoves back, with another trip scheduled in a few weeks to pick up an oven and three larger versions of the stoves meant for three nearby schools.



A few shots from inside the stove factory. The stoves are very durable, need 70% less firewood than normal, and drastically cut down on smoke.




Took a group of nine farmers from my community to a training in Izalco to learn about raising fish. Right now the farmers are working on constructing their fish tanks and in about a month our first shipment of baby fish will be arriving. Each farmer with be raising about 80 tilapia.



These tanks are much larger than the ones we'll be using...they fit over a thousand fish each...but it is the same general idea.


Perhaps my favorite part of the training--lunch. I don't think any of us had ever eaten so much fish!


My original host family, where I still eat at least one or two meals every day, just had some puppies born. They're are not yet even a week old. I figured if nothing else, at least these pictures would make the blog a little cuter...

Sportscenter: El Salvador

The last two months of my Peace Corps service has been a time full of feelings of transition and change. I wrapped up two of my largest agricultural projects yet, meaning my daily schedule took a dramatic shift away from having intimidating daily to-do lists to leaving quite a bit more time for relaxing in a hammock brainstorming new project ideas (think: daydreaming, napping, and reading). I also had my Dad visit me in El Salvador then went to Costa Rica with him for a week of bliss and relaxation.

Peace Corps begins preparing Volunteers early in the first month of training for the psychological changes Volunteers notoriously succumb too around the one-year mark—feelings of depression, homesickness, and lack of progress. Although I have yet to struggle with these feelings, it certainly has been an interesting period of reflection, more so as I am in between large projects and have more time than usual to spend merely “thinking” or “planning” instead of “doing.” I find myself satisfied with the amount of progress in my projects, language skills, and community immersion I’ve achieved, but also looking forward to my second year and the projects that loom on the horizon, especially a project, currently in its early phases, introducing small-scale fish farming (tilapia) to about ten families in San Luis.

There are also other reasons the last month or two have represented large changes in my life. I cut my hair for the first time since leaving the States in mid-July 2010 (about 14 months later), meaning I went from hair falling past my shoulders to a close buzz. The following morning I emerged from my house to questions from numerous community members about who exactly I was and what had happened to Max…they literally didn’t recognize me and only the fact that I was the sole white person for miles around was able to assure them it was in fact me, just with shorter hair. Additionally, the revelation that I had a “hair-cutting machine” has led to an almost daily parade of guys coming to my house acting like they are interested in talking about the weather or newest San Luis gossip but really just wanting free haircut.

Also, in the period of time since my last blog post, the sporting aspect of my life has been full of news, leading this blog post to feature a bit of an “ESPN Sportscenter” feel and focus almost solely on the sports happenings of my life San Luis:

- The primary soccer team I play with, C.D. San Luis (the sole team based in my own community), usually enters tournaments twice a year, then fills the rest of the annual schedule with random matches against other teams from all over Western El Salvador. We are currently starting our second tournament of the season, both of which take place on a soccer field just two communities (about a 30-minutes walk) from ours. They both have consisted of six teams with a 10-game regular season (2 games against each team) then a 4-team playoff with two semifinal games then a championship and third place game. Teams earn points (3 for a win, 1 for a tie, and 0 for a loss) during the 10 games comprising the regular season, then the top 4 advance to the playoffs.

We entered this year not only as defending champions but also as winners and owners of the trophies from the last three of these tournaments we had entered (I know, hard to believe, but they had in fact achieved much, even before I, and my unmatched height and equally unmatched lack of experience playing soccer, arrived). The first tournament we began (in early May) started as usual, with us in first place (with 11 points—3 wins, 0 losses, and 2 ties) after the first 5 games. We then began a collapse equaled only by the Dallas Mavericks in the 2006 NBA Finals, managing to lose every single one of our last 5 games, despite having a lead going into the second half of each of those same 5 games (hint: we had some big goalkeeper issues), and didn’t even manage to qualify for the playoffs. Man-talk in San Luis consisted of soccer, tears, shame, and more soccer up until 3 weeks ago when we started a second tournament with a shot at redemption.

So far, our form in this tournament has returned to normal. We are once again in a familiar position, first place, with wins in each of our first 3 games (even I got in on the scoring last Sunday, with my first goal in almost 2 months, netting a first-half goal in a 3-1 win).

- In addition to these adult soccer tournaments which I play in, I have kept myself busy in my time between larger, more intensive projects, in part by organizing youth soccer tournaments in San Luis. About three weeks ago, I had the first, featuring the team I coach from here in San Luis, two teams organized by other Volunteers near me, and a youth team from a neighboring community. While it was great fun organizing the tournament and working with so many young kids, soccer tournaments are definitely one of those things that you don’t realize how complicated and how much work they involve until you actually organize one yourself. Between spending 5 hours the afternoon before getting a mean sunburn and mowing the overgrown grass of the San Luis soccer field with two of the saddest lawn mowers I’ve ever met, waking up at 5 a.m. the day of the tournament to mark all the lines on the soccer field, and forgetting I had to find referees until two days before the tournament and frantically riding my bike to the home of everyone I know with 10 kilometers of San Luis who has experience refereeing trying to find someone with a bit of free time to offer, I certainly wore myself out, but was by no means deterred—I have a second tournament coming up the 17^th of this month and hope things will run a little more smoothly with the experience of a few past lessons learned (mainly, the usefulness of sunscreen).

Shockingly, the largest aspect of the whole soccer tournament experience for me was the amount of accolades and kudos I received for accomplishing something as small as finally getting the grass cut. Although there are rarely, if ever, actual soccer games on the soccer field in San Luis, we (the men’s team) do have soccer practice every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon not marred by rain. Due to the fact that no one in San Luis has a lawnmower, the grass never gets mowed, meaning by the second half of the rainy season, the soccer field can more often closely resemble a Nebraska prairie of knee-high grasses than anywhere a sane person would want to run around kicking a ball. This led to a quite ironic situation, where I literally got more pats on the back and thank-yous from the community (specifically, the men of the community) on cutting the grass (which consisted solely of writing a solicitude to borrow the lawnmowers of the nearby sugarcane processing plant one morning then cutting the grass that afternoon…something apparently no one in San Luis had ever thought to do, but easily accomplished in just one day) than any other project I have worked on, including many which consisted of over 6 months of hard work and perseverance. Great feeling.

- WARNING (especially to all those animal lovers out there): This blog post is about to take a turn from soccer, the national sport of El Salvador, to cock fighting, something maybe only loosely defined as a “sport,” but still, a Salvadoran hobby.

August marked the end of the 2-year commitment to Peace Corps of the group of Volunteers who arrived in El Salvador one year before mine, known as our “sister group,” and consisting of many good friends of mine. This meant despedida (Spanish for a sort of going-away party) season for about 30 Volunteers across the country, which usually mean a community dance or something equally civil. However, a good friend of mine requested a cock fight for his despedida, and I, out of curiousity, decided to make the trek across the country to visit him one last time and check out my first pelea de gallos.

While I went into the cock fight with high expectations (for both entertainment value and monetary gain—I had placed a $.50 bet on the “red one”), I came away a bit let down (on both fronts). While the first 30 seconds of the fight were pretty exciting, as both angry squawks and chopped up feathers were sent flying in a heated swirl of activity, the reality that one of these animals was going to die started to sadly sink in. My emotions hit another high a minute later as it appeared my gallo was poised to go for the knockout blow and win me two quarters (!!!), then he fell for a textbook juke of sorts, and had a major vein in his neck sliced and promptly keeled over a few seconds later. In all, the fight last about 2 or 3 minutes, sending me through a wide range of emotions, but ending with me decidedly against attending many more cock fights. While I remain glad I saw one, I’m not sure raising fighting hens is going to become a new hobby of mine or that I will be making the same request of my community that my friend made for his going-away party.

However, the cock fight was not the only big event of the day. Next, the community had organized another typical Salvadoran activity (which I had previously heard of, but never seen in action), where a tall, straight tree is cut down, cleaned of its bark, polished and greased with oil and butter, then planted in the ground, with sizable chunk of cash and bottle of alcohol strategically perched on top (again, though this type of thing may not make Sportscenter in the States, it can be loosely defined as a sport—I’m sure lumberjacks in Canada have some sort of sporting event resembling this). The idea is to watch members of the community make fools of themselves trying to get the booty at the top of the tree trunk, usually perched about 15 to 20 feet up there. The course of events that follows is pretty standard and certainly followed a typical course in this case: first, come the stray dogs, licking the grease and fat off the bottom of the tall pole while community members stand around, discussing strategy and pacing, too shy to be the first to give it a shot. Soon after, a group of brave young kids give it a try, but usually end up not even getting close, due to their small size, deficiency of strength, and lack of experience. Normally, they end up falling down in a heap, with at least one or two leaving with mild to serious injuries. Next come the drunks of the community, well liquored-up to celebrate the days festivities, and full of a large, but false, sense of ability. They inevitably fail, making even larger fools of themselves than the young kids, and often leaving even more seriously injured. About an hour later, come a group of young men, who form some sort of strategy, in this case, standing on each other shoulders 4-men high and praying not to fall, and eventually successfully reaching the top. While this event certainly lasted a little longer than the cock fight, it also took place as a punishing rain storm arrived, meaning I watched from the front porch of the nearest house, while most were only praying no one got too seriously hurt from a slippery fall or struck by lightning while cleverly attempting to climb a tall, bare tree trunk located in the middle of a soccer field high atop a volcano in the middle of a fierce lightning storm (talk about asking for it…).

- On the basketball front, sadly I have little to report, as the basketball league I play in, located in the nearest town, seems to be in the midst of a lockout, much like our counterparts in the NBA. Although the issues are a bit different, the date of the opening tip-off of the coming season is equally in doubt, as two groups within the league are angrily split on the importance of hiring out-of-town referees (from my experience in this league, very important—for the sake of both the safety of the referees and the validity of foul calls, which I’ve personally observed to be a bit suspicious at times).

- In the last update, and only one not related to sports, I’m proud to report my Salvadoran cultural transformation may finally be complete. Two days ago, while goofing around with the kids that live next door to me, a large rip opened up around the knee of my pants. That officially marked the moment when every single one of the five pairs of pants I originally arrived with in El Salvador has now been patched, sewn, and torn at least once (and in one case, 5 times). I consider this a badge of honor and am certain it makes me, or at least my pants, fit in much better with everyone else in San Luis and rural El Salvador as a whole. Also, two pairs of shoes I brought were tossed long ago due to never being able to dry out and basically being eaten alive by mold. Also, two others now have holes large enough to see quite a bit of light through in the soles. But don’t worry Mom: duct tape has dutifully repaired both pairs of shoes and (due, strictly, to my pants) I have outstanding debts to every old woman with a sewing machine in San Luis.

SOY SOY SOY

I recently completed my largest project yet, a USAID-funded introduction to soy bean cultivation to over 100 farmers in and around my community, Caserío San Luis. I first started planning and grant-writing for the project way back in February, so finally being able to say I’ve completed my first large-scale agricultural project, and one which I’ve worked hard on for months has felt extremely rewarding…and I’ve definitely felt just a little less stressed since .

The initial idea behind the project was to improve maternal and child health by introducing a new crop which was much more nutritious than just corn and beans, which generally make up almost all of the rural Salvadoran diet. Most importantly, soy beans consist of over 42% protein, which is more than double the protein content of corn or red or black beans (the types of beans normally traditionally grown in El Salvador). A lack of protein is one of the biggest factors leading to underweight children and malnutrition of pregnant mothers and babies, which plague my community. Additionally, soy beans suffer from less natural plagues than more traditional bean crops in El Salvador, meaning soy beans will lead to the use of less agricultural chemicals during their cultivation. Lastly, all legumes (hint, hint…soy beans) take nitrogen out of the air and replace it in the soil through their root systems, which is especially beneficial, since corn, the most common crop here, particularly thrives in nitrogen-rich soil.

The first part of this soy bean project was a training jointly given by an agricultural extension agent from CENTA, a part of the government’s Ministry of Agriculture, and me about the differences between farming soy beans and other types of beans Salvadorans farmers have more experience with. Since soy beans are a completely new crop to this area of El Salvador, it is important to familiarize farmers with them and make sure they are comfortable with what to expect and how to respond to any particular problems they have. We gave these trainings in 3 different communities and all were well attended. I had previously cooperated with the local councils of all three communities to select the families that could most benefit from the project and target them in our awareness campaigns trainings meant to inform residents of the opportunity they had. In San Luis, where I live, I know every family and I wasn’t too nervous about attendance and cooperation in my project, but in the two other communities, where I am familiar with many members of the community, but certainly not all, I was definitely nervous beforehand about high levels of collaboration.

The second half of the project was geared more for the mothers of the participating projects (while the first was geared more to whoever is doing the farming, which in El Salvador, is the male 90% of the time). It consisted of a cooking demonstration using the soy beans, teaching mothers how to turn their family’s crop of soy beans into soy milk, cheese, meat, and many other options. To me, this was the more critical aspect of the project, since overcoming the very strong Salvadoran cultural stigma against “foreign” or simply “different” foods certainly would be the largest hurdle a successful and sustainably introduction of soy beans to the area faced. I was also looking forward to this part of the project most myself—it meant a lot of eating a lot of real good food three separate times in each of the three communities where the project was located. With the help of a “soy expert” from a Salvadoran aid organization named ASAPROSAR, we demonstrated for over 100 women how easy it was to feed a family with soy beans, how delicious the food could be, and how healthy and nutritious all the products of soy were. Not only can just one pound of soy beans produce 24 cups of soy milk, but that same pound has contains the protein of 25 eggs or 2 pounds of beef (both of which are just too gross….or too expensive…for families around here to eat daily). While the first presentation was definitely a learning experience for me, by our third demonstration, I was pretty adept at making soy milk and cheese (flavored with chiles and many Salvadoran herbs and spices), along with spinach and carrot tortas, donuts, a surprisingly refreshing pineapple and soy juice, and an extremely nutritious baby food. I’d never really tried soy milk before, having always been a loyalist of pure, 100% real-thing, chocolate milk, but it turns out I really enjoyed the soy milk we made, and will definitely be drinking soy milk upon my return to the United States (and maybe even making the soy milk and cheese myself!).

Additionally, I also gave a few side presentations for farmers who were interested in the soy beans with the goal of better feeding their cattle, chickens, goats, or even bees. For all the same reasons soy is extremely nutritious for humans, it is an amazing additive to the diet of farm animals, increasing productivity and growth. If farmer’s can grow the soy themselves then make their own animal feed, that great improves their independence, sustainability, and profitability, taking agricultural supply stores and chemical companies completely out of the loop.

In the coming weeks I will be using the majority of the grant I received to buy about 400 pounds of soy bean seeds and then hand them out to all the families who attended each of the training sessions in their community. The grant paid for all the ingredients in the cooking demonstrations and will pay for the seeds, which were previously the largest impediment to entering the field of soy bean farming in western El Salvador. In all prior years, the Catholic Church in El Salvador had bought basically all the soy bean seeds in the country and steered them towards just one aid organization located on the other side of the country, completely blocking the majority of the country from enjoying the benefits of soy beans as a new crop. However, hopefully with this project, they will catch on with many new families (and I made an effort to find non-genetically modified seeds, meaning new seeds do not need to be bought every year, but beans from the best plants can be selected, saved, and planted the following year, enabling families to easily continue with the soy beans if they enjoy their first years harvest). While it will be at least a few years to see if the project in its entirety is truly successful and families are still planting and harvesting their soy beans, meaning I will no longer even be in El Salvador to really see how it all develops, I am at least hopeful at this point and excited about the possibilities. So while I will not be here to see the long-term results and sustainability of the project, this year over 100 families with be more nutritionally fed through soy beans for the first time ever, and, at least for now, that’s enough success for me.

Volcanos, Stoves, and Soy Beans!

Hike up Volcano Izalco with some old friends from GW. Great views from the crater included the Pacific coast halfway across the country, Lake Coatepeque (a pristine near-by crater lake), and Brendan sucking-in and flexing for the camera.

Community women stirring the soy milk.

A buffet of soy!

Straining the soy milk.

At a three-day training with two members of my community learning to build more efficient wood stoves that cut down on firewood use (and thus, deforestation, mud slides, erosion, falling soil quality, etc.) and harmful and unhealthy smoke in the kitchen