All Volunteer Conference

October 13, 2011

I took a break last weekend from tramping the roads drumming up participants for the baking class to attend the All Volunteer Conference in La Palma. Every year, Peace Corps El Salvador talks about doing a conference for all the volunteers to get together, and every year, we lack a budget for such a frivolous enterprise. As a consequence, PC El Sal hasn’t had an AVC in ten years. Since this year is the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps however, we combined the AVC with our 50th anniversary volunteer celebration and were able to use the funds allotted worldwide for that. However, it was on a budget, so our only option for the weekend was El Refugio, way up in the mountains in Northern Chalate. The refuge is one of several retreat centers around the country owned by the Salvadoran government and available to use, free of cost, to any group that books it far enough in advance. Because it’s free, it’s also pretty bare bones. We had to carry in our own bed clothes, toilet paper, food, water, and anything else we felt would be essential for two days amongst the pine trees of La Palma.

Incidentally, I also stayed at El Refugio this past April for an HIV/AIDS workshop wth Salvadoran youth. As some of you may recall, my particular cabin that time (number 7) had a sizable herd of rodents running around in the ceiling and walls. (Yes, I said herd. If you had heard the noise they made in the night, you’d call it a herd too.) This time, I assiduously avoided cabin 7. And snickered a little when I heard the volunteers staying there complain. I did warn them. They chose not to heed my warning, to the detriment of restful sleep.

As it turns out, during the rainy season, the refuge turns into something resembling a large mud pit that would do a rowdy bunch of frat boys organizing a mud wrestling competition proud. Being the genius that I am, I brought one pair of shoes – my all-purpose Salvadoran flip-flops; suitable for dancing, walking, cleaning, working, hiking, showering, and pretty much every other purpose you can think of. (I have not tested them as snow shoes yet, but have high hopes for the ingenuity of Salvadoran footwear engineering.)

My yinas (as Salvadorans call them) came through once again. At first it seemed like a really, really bad idea. I mean, we’re talking epic fail level. My feet sank ankle deep into mud, and I came close to losing my flip-flops on more than one occasion. Even my own self-assurance of my favorite maxim, “I am always right”, began to waver a bit when I watched the other volunteers blithely skip across the muddy fields, gaining themselves dirty sneakers and boots, but clean feet.

Until it started to rain. And what was a mud pit became a mud pool.

Alright, a kiddie pool maybe. But pretty soon I wasn’t the only one sinking ankle and calf deep into mud. I was however one of the few people who could just stick their foot into the shower/sink/pila, shoe on, and come out a few minutes later with squeeky clean shoes and feet. Everyone else ended up with soaked, muddy shoes and socks which had absolutely zero chance of drying out in the two days we were there. See? This girl. Always right. I’ve found that, for the people around me, life is just easier if they accept that right away and always, always follow my awesome advice.

As far as the weekend’s activities, outside of some charlas on project ideas and “life after peace corps”, limbo, dancing, and hula hoops were heavily featured. As it turns out, I have not gotten any better at limbo or hula hooping since my last elementary school field day some fifteen years ago, but there is one thing at which I excel.

Being a cheater pants.

As with any event in El Salvador, it wasn’t complete until we broke out the pinata. Some of you may have previously heard my views on the topic of pinatas: it always ends in tears. Invariably, someone gets whacked on the head with a stick or starts crying when they get the wrong kind of candy. And that’s the adults. Don’t get me started on the kids.

In any case, as we were celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps, PC somehow rustled up a pinata in the shape of a dove. Do I really need to highlight the irony of large group of Peace Corps volunteers beating the crap out of a giant bird of peace with a wooden stick? The first pinata was a much more appropriate (albeit somewhat boxlike) Salvadoran flag. I apparenly have much less compunction about defiling a nation’s flag than a dove. After three batters and no more damage to the flag than an unsightly bulge, I decided it was time to step up and take that mofo out. After all, I grew up in Jersey, with all those Italians. “Whack” has more than one meaning to me.

I took the requisite blind fold and subsequent spins. After a few abortive and highly unsuccessful whacks in which I caught only air, my fellow volunteers finally got their act together and starting yelling, “NOW!” as the pinata whizzed over my head. On the third try I got some semi-solid contact, but nothing close to what I needed in order to meet my objective of “making it rain”. Candy, that is. (Why, what were you thinking?) It was time to do what I do best. Cheat.

On the next pass over my head, I recognized that the pinata was in easy reaching distance. Whereupon I promptly abandoned the stick and started clawing in the air like a frenzied maniac. I smacked it a couple times with my hands and finally got a solid grip of smushy cardboard and crepe paper. The pinata bearer tried to get sneaky and pull it up out of my way, but I wasn’t having it. I tightened my grip and ripped it like a fat kid eating beans. Toostie rolls showered, cheers were heard, and I walked away a local hero and volunteer legend.

The moral of this story is that no one cares if you blatantly and unabashedly cheat, as long as they get free candy out of it.

Tootsie roll, anyone?