Day 7

Day 7.

Today was Sunday, so we didn’t go to any of the worksites. Instead, we woke up, got dressed up in nice clothes (which was real weird), and ate breakfast. After breakfast, we gathered up, and instead of doing our usual pre-work prayers, we read through the readings that would be read at the mass. I can’t say I was super attentive, but I do remember one of the stories was the one about the beggar and Samaritan  that is in Godspell. So all I could think about was puppet shows.
The mass itself was long, but interesting. It was all in spanish, so I understood about three words, but it was incredible to see how dedicated the people here (both on my trip and in El Salvador) are to their faiths. I felt a little left out, because I had NO idea what was going on with the prayers and such, but I tried my best to stand when people stood, kneel when people knelt, and shake their hands when people shook hands. I didn’t go up for communion (I never do), and I just sat in my seat looking slightly confused.
After the service, we went below the Cathedral to the crypt. We saw the tomb of Oscar Romero, which was very interesting. The brass of  the statue, is well-worn and well-loved--he truly is a great and inspiring man.

I need to go to bed now, but I will write more tomorrow.

Well, I lied when I said I would right “tomorrow”, because now tomorrow is yesterday. Time is weird that way.

But I will try to remember the rest of the day.
After we went down to the crypt, we all got back on to the bus (your standard issue yellow school bus) and went to the Marcada for a bit of shopping. It was actually the first time we had really been in the city, outside of the compound. We were given an hour to wander around, and I wandered with Kat, and Hannah, and Colette. The Marcada is an indoor market; basically, it is a room filled with little stalls that all sell just about the same thing: purses, bracelets, keychains, odd knicknacks and vegetable-shaped napkin holders. I spent around $60 on presents and gifts and jewelry for my self. We were supposed to/allowed to barter and bargain, but I was pretty bad at it. I wish I would have tired harder, I could have saved like 20 bucks. Some of the other girls got really into it; Fiona got a pair of 15 dollar shoes for nine by going on and on about needing money for the train. There aren’t any trains in El Salvador.
We  left the market, some more bag-laden than the others, and went back to the compound. There, we were allowed to eat upstairs (which was a real big deal) so we could watch the World Cup final. I haven’t really been following the tournament that closely, but everyone answered all of my annoying questions, so I figured out what was going on. I started the game supporting the Dutch, because I like their outfits better, but about 20 minutes in I decided that Spain was better, and I changed my allegiance. No one really seemed to care that much.
Three quarters of the way into the the game, Sister Gloria announced that it was time to leave. Everyone (well, like me and six other people) were upset about missing the end of the game, but we got ready to go to the orphanage. We all used lots of bugspray, and protected our heads and got on the bus. I sat with Kat, and we talked about home and life and doing more volunteer work when we return. We talked with the other volunteers about the music they liked, and about their schools, and all sorts of other nonsense. We finished listening to the soccer game, and celebrated when Spain won.  After 45 minutes or an hour of bus riding, the bus stopped. I was in the back of the bus and wasn’t really paying attention, so I was surprised to hear that the bus had broken down.  At first we (well, I) thought it might be some sort of joke, but the rising levels of panic among the adults proved otherwise. Luckily, we were only about 100 meters away from the orphanage, and we were able to walk along the side of the road. It was probably one of the most nerve-racking minute and a half of the entire trip. I am nervous person, and walking on high-speed high ways freaks me out at home. Add in the fact that it was sort of raining and it was in El Salvador, and I almost had a panic attack.
People had warned me that the orphanage was going to be sad, and they were right, to an extent. It was heartbreaking to see the children who had given up--they were silent, hard to engage, and didn’t look like they cared about much of everything. Mostly this was the older girls--the sisters that run the orphanage have to move the boys out when the turn ten, but they keep the girls until they are old enough to go to the states of get a job. That said, some of the children were happy and joyful, and really excited to see us. I  strung leis and cut paper snowflakes and made god’s eyes and “played” soccer with them. I tried to learn all of their names, but failed. They were adorable, all dressed up in their Sunday best, running around, having fun.
After the orphanage, we went back on the bus, and we sang show tunes and americana songs and interviewed each other and had all sorts of good times.
We then ate dinner and had reflection and hung out, I think.
At reflection, we read a story about a single snowflake breaking a branch--it was one of millions, but it was that one snowflake that made all the difference. If I take anything away from this trip, I want it to be that story. No matter how small and insignificant an action seems to me, it can be the one that changes the world. 


Sofia