My Childhood Frozen In Time

Blogging From : San Salvador, El Salvador

A little over ten years ago, my family made the decision to move to the United States. Crime in El Salvador slowly worsen and my mom wanted to give us a better future.

What we left, I thought, were friends and neighbors, but I failed to realize they were all I had ever known. They were family; somehow, they are still family.

On June 2, 2017, I arrived in El Salvador for the first time since I moved to the U.S. I was nervous; anxious. One of my childhood friends had insisted I stayed with her during my time in the country to spend time with her and our friends like old times. While it was a very nice gesture, I was not one hundred percent convinced; after all, my friend is now married and with a child. Things are not exactly the same.

She sent someone to pick me up from the airport: a trusted friend. While on our way to my friend's house, the driver filled me in on the current situation in the country, something I am very aware of. After a short drive, we arrived at my friend's house. She and her husband were waiting outside the house for me. In that moment, all the meals, soccer games, hide and seek games, arguments, every birthday party, every Christmas and New Year's party we shared together rushed to my mind.

She was welcoming, a Salvadoran trait I am proud of. She immediately made me feel at home and spent a few hours with me catching me up on all the drama in the neighborhood. She filled me in on who is married to who, who has child, the assholes, the people that have changed, and those that have sadly become victims of the gang violence in the country. After talking for hours, I decided to give her a break and let her go to sleep.

One important piece of information: about 95% of all the people I grew up with still live in the neighborhood. No one left.

The next morning, we started the "Welcome Back" tour. First, we met with her mom and older sister. Her older sister babysat my siblings and I multiple times and she treated us like her own siblings. She saw me across the street and waved at me uncontrollably. I did the same. She screamed "Taty" and I went in for a big hug. Those hugs you give the people you love but you don't know how much until you finally see them again. She interrogated me about my stay in El Salvador and my family; questions I am already tired of answering.

Then, we walked to her brother's house, a legendary human in our family. He was my mom's best friend for many years, but I was not a fan of him, to word it nicely.

While walking to him, we walked through my old neighborhood, which it's still her neighborhood. We walked through all those buildings, streets, parks that saw me grow up. The craziest thing is that nothing has changed. While we were walking to her brother's, she asked "do you want to walk by la niña Santos?" I said YES! Who is this person you might wonder. Well, la niña Santos is the person that sells tortillas in the neighborhood. She is a very kind but serious person. She yelled at me so many times because I would ask her for $25 cents worth of tortillas but I was never ready when she wanted to hand them to me.

As we walked by the shack, my friend said "Hola niña Santos! Do you remember her"? At the same time, I looked up and asked the same thing to her, "do you remember me?" In a very calm, not-a-big-deal kind of way she responded "Of course I remember you. How are you? How is your family?" We talked for a few minutes and then she told me "send my love to your mom, please."

Later that night, I went to see the rest of my friend's family. Her mother, and younger sister who happened to be my little sister's best friend back in the day. Everyone looks the same; everyone has kids.

My friend's older sister and I went to the little store I visited for many years. There, I ran into another one of my close friends. We both saw each other and we could not contain the excitement. We hugged, and then hugged, and then hugged another six times. He began telling everyone around us that he remembers coming to my house and asking if I wanted to play soccer. He remembers watching me play outside of the house, and how I always had soccer ball in my hand. He also told everyone my nickname back then was Puyol, a Barcelona defender with big curly hair. That was my nickname because of my big curly hair.  He also told me we needed to go play soccer before I leave.

It is such a strange feeling to think that I grew up with all these people; and while everyone has their own lives and have different things going on, there is a part of my childhood that seems to be frozen in time. I have always said that It wasn't weird moving to the United States at such a young age because I didn't have that many friends or long lasting friendships, I was fourteen after all. Yet, I think I was wrong. There are so many people that care not only about me but about the rest of my family, and have kept all those great memories alive. It is crazy for me to admit this because I never intended to, but I think I'm home.

Do All Lives Really Matter?

Do all lives really matter? That's the question I ask myself every time someone makes a post on social media stating that #AllLivesMatter indeed.

I'm not going to lie, this is unfamiliar territory to me. I rarely get involved in racial issues because as I've explained in previous posts, I don't consider my race or skin color a key to defining myself. I am more than any of my physical distinctions or place where I was born. Moreover, I'm not really sure if I've ever been discriminated against. I have, at least, not been discriminated against to the extend the black man in the United States has suffered. With that being said, I have also learned that refusing to take a stand in such crucial topic in this country is also making a choice. Not making a choice is a choice.

In the awake of the two high-profile killings by police in the past week, I have seen just how prejudice America is. Did I know that before these two events took place? I mean, Donald Trump is the Republican nominee. That in itself should be enough to determine how this country really feels about race.Now, I'm not here to make you feel sorry for immigrants or for those who fail to meet the white-skin, blue eyes requirement to be respected in the United States; I am here to tell you that the concept of #AllLivesMatter is bullshit.

Let me get this out of the way also, I refuse to accept #BlackLivesMatter or BLM as a movement that simply demands equal rights and equal treatment for African-Americans.That might have been the platform the movement was founded on; however, it is not what BLM is now. Sadly, BLM is a group of angry people demanding to be respected by confronting the police, wreck local business that most likely belong to other African-Americans and destroying private property. As a minority in the States, I can tell you that we can't be angry minorities demanding justice, while also trying to be the educated minorities demanding justice. The two don't go together. We, as minorities, fail to understand time and time again that the white man is already above us in this country. They are considered better than us. I know it shouldn't be like that, but that is what it is. So then, we become the angry minorities and we confront the police or we do something like refusing to respect the army or the police, and you know what that does? That plays into white America's hands. That gives white America the authority to say "this is why we don't treat them equally". That is the sad reality. 

So do all lives truly matter? Not really. Not all lives equally matter in a country where a person is making a post about "those" people attacking the police or "those" people protesting for equal rights and hurting the police. All lives don't equally matter when a white person is making a post on social media about #BlueLivesMatter #AllLivesMatter, but you've never seen any posts about an innocent black man losing his life. Do you see how that makes no sense? So is #AllLivesMatter real? Do all lives truly matter when we choose to stand up for cops, but feel no need to stand up for equal rights? I get it though, every cop and every military person risk their lives for us. I get that and I am really thankful to them. However, that doesn't take away from the fact that there are extensive reports proving just how these two communities abuse their power. Not #AllLivesMatter when Syrian refugees are seeking asylum in this country, not by choice, but because the civil war in Syria, which America helped create, has destroyed everything they had, yet Governors refuse to take them in because "they are a potential threat". Not #AllLivesMatter when we refuse to give at least 3.6 million immigrants legal status under Deferred Action for Parents of Americans and Lawful Permanent Residents or DAPA, but we still hire them as they are cheap labor. Not #AllLivesMatter when a presidential candidate is calling all Mexicans "rapists" and stating that he will ban Muslims from entering the country as they could be terrorists, and instead of standing up against these xenophobic remarks, we praise the man for "saying what everyone else is afraid of saying".

It's simple though, #AllLivesDontEquallyMatter.

My Problem with Organized Religion

To all those who have been affected by this terrible tragedy in Orlando, my heart breaks with you.

It's hard to understand that someone in the name of a higher power and interpretation of a book commissioned by a higher power can take punishment into their own hands.

We are a bunch of hypocrites. The human race is a group of hypocrites who seek God the moment things get bad; the moment we have a problem in hopes he takes care of it. Once things are great, we forget about him. We kill others in the name of God. This is not a new chapter in history; we have been killing each other in the name of religion since the beginning of times.The Crusades; Isabella and Ferdinand established The Inquisition. The Holocaust; the 30 Years' War; the French Wars of Religion; the Armenian Genocide; 9/11 have all been mass killings in the name of religion.

I often wonder if there is really a God. I wonder if there is, indeed, a higher power because someone or something with the ability to control pain and suffering; happiness and joy wouldn't allow mass killings in "his" name. I often wonder if God is still with us and hasn't abandoned us. We hurt each other, we kill each other, we are horrible people, so why would God still be with us?

What gives someone the right to hate on homosexuals? Doesn't the Bible say we should love one another? And if homosexuality is indeed wrong, let God deal with it. God hasn't asked us to be the judges of true followers. We are supposed to love everyone and be good to everyone. We don't have any right to punish other because of what the Bible says. If someone is a bad person, they will respond for their sins at the gates of heaven. What gives us the right to tell a woman she can have an abortion or not? Does the Bible or any religious text explicitly state that women cannot have abortions? What gives someone the right to kill people because they have forgotten about God?

I have met Muslims that only pray 5 times a day during Ramadan. Yet, they claimed to do it because they want to not because they have to. Is it a coincidence that they only "want" to do it during the time Ramadan takes place? I have met Christians who think they are better than everyone else because they are more correct; because they don't say bad words or they don't drink. I have met Jews who claimed to be Jews but only practice it during the holidays. I have met Catholics who show up to mass drunk or hungover. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't all this go against religion? My point is, we don't need to belong to religious groups to be good people. We don't need to read the Bible, Quran, Torah, Shruti, or Sutras to do good. My other problem is with the people who hold the highest authority in any particular religion. I'm not an religious expert, but I know that any higher authority in any religion doesn't have a closer, more special connection with God. The Pope, Imam, Chief Rabbi, Swami, and any other religious authority are not closer to God than you and I.

Someone told me a few days ago that they believed hell was not under our feet, but instead hell is this. Hell is here. Hell is what we are living through right now. I could not disagree with that statement...

The best thing do you can do right now is hold your loved ones a little tighter today and remind them that you love them.

I Analyze Myself Way Too Much...

For the purpose of this blog entry, I'd like to say that growing up is really cool. Why, you may ask...

Growing up is cool because you get to struggle with life, you get to learn your dislikes, and you get to do everything and anything on your own terms. To me, growing up means my friendships are changing.

I have always been friends with younger people. I am the big sister and all my friends are younger than me. I didn't think it was weird. I think subconsciously I wanted to be in control. In my eyes, being older has given me leverage over people. Not like I'm taking advantage of my friends, but my opinion is just slightly more important. I also think I was attracted to younger people because people my age are boring. True story.


At 23 years old, this has changed. Today, I was driving back from Harrisburg. A 3 hour drive. I had time to think, and I realized that my friendships have changed. The people I was once attracted to no longer hold that connection in my heart. It's nothing against them. I don't think I'm better than them; but, I do believe we have outgrown each other.  Today, I witnessed this. Before I proceed, I'd like to clarify that I've never had many friends. Yes, I talk to everybody. I am a social butterfly. But when it comes to making friendships; I only like a few people. The issue is, I get bored of people very quickly. I know it's awful, but I am only friends with people who bring something into my life. I ask myself, before befriending someone, what can I gain from this person. I don't need to be friends with someone who I don't considered useful. A person who won't teach me or show me something won't be my friend. As a result, I could say I have 6 friends who mean the world to me, The rest don't matter. These people are all younger than me. Shocker.
Back to the story. So today, I witness how my friendships have changed. I am friends with three wonderful people who have taught me so much without them realizing it. One, is my former professor from Penn State. I could very well describe her as one of the smartest and sweetest people I have ever met. I'm not sure whether she would agree with this, but I'd say we're friends. We have moved past the professor/student relationship and we have become actual friends. I honestly think that's cool. Not many people get to have a friendship with their university professors. She has given me advice twenty thousand times. We worked together as part of a society at Penn State which aims to bring cultural awareness. Simply put, the society is everything international. During that time, I learned so much from her. Most importantly, she is the reason I will be pursuing my master's in international relations. The first class I took with her when I arrived at Penn State was all it took for me to want to take all other classes being taught by her. By the way, this is purely admiration. Please don't file a restraining order against me hahah. The time she invested in me. The time she spent answering my one million questions about any given topic has meant the world to me. She is a great professor. She is a great friend. She is older.
The second person is a crazy French human, whom I can't keep up with. Simply put, she's crazy and she drinks too much. But if you overlook that aspect, she has also taught me so much. She has taught me so much about growing up. She has dealt with my insecurities regarding NYU and my insecurities about getting older and becoming an adult. The main reason she is a very good friend is because we argue about politics 24/7 and she always disagrees with me. She can hold an argument with me and not back down. She mainly screams until I shut up, and then she proceeds to lecture me about French history, French politics, American politics, international politics, religions, etc. She is a very smart person. She is older.
The third person is a guy I met while backpacking Peru. He is Argentinian. He is one of the few people that actually know about politics in Latin America. We were together 2 days, two years ago and we still remain friends. We discuss everything from politics, to science, to traveling. He is always on the phone with me asking about my day. He is always sending me articles about Argentinian politics, as he has learned I'm a fan of Cristina de Kirchner, former president of Argentina. He is a typical socialist dude from Latin America. I have learned so much about El Che from him. I like him. He is older.

I've always thought I am the one person who doesn't change. I've always thought that I am the person who remains the same regardless of everyone else changing around me. It seems I am no different...

Labels Are Not For Me

Okay, I would like someone to explain something to me: why is that we live in a society where labels are so important?

Let me tell you something, labels don't work for me. I'm not a typical Hispanic; I'm not a typical woman; I'm not straight or gay; I'm not a normal human.

This sounds a little bit strange, doesn't it? Like, what the hell is she talking about...

This is my problem; why is it so important for us to define ourselves. We certainty don't do it for our own pleasure, but to establish our place in society. Where we belong. Which group of people we "relate" to. My question is WHY?

I am not saying that I'm not proud to be Hispanic or a woman. Of course I am. But the thing is, I have never felt the need to label myself because that's not how I was raised. I am anything I want to be. I am whatever makes me happy. This is how I've always lived my life. Back when I was growing up in El Salvador, I used to be the only girl on all-male soccer teams. The ONLY girl. Girls, don't really play competitive soccer in Latin American countries. I never felt out of place, though. I was kicked, hit with the ball and treated like another boy on the team. It was never weird for me. I was doing what I loved and I wasn't going to let the "norm" of no female soccer players ruin my happiness. When I had cancer, I was told that I would have millions of problems growing up, and yet I'm not sure if I ever had any of those problems because I wasn't going to let cancer ruin my happiness. When I arrived in America, I was expected to spend two to three years in ESL (English as Second Language) classes in high school, yet I exited the program in one short year and by my third year in America, I was already in Advance Placement classes. In high school, I was overweight, and yet I was the ONLY girl on the soccer team who received a scholarship to play for a college soccer team. Now, with average grades, but a killer resume, I have been offered a spot to complete my master's degree at NYU, Penn State and Padova University, which is the second best university in Italy. 

I am not telling you all this to rub it in your face. I already know I'm the shit, so I don't need people to approve of that. I am telling you because I want to show you that being a GIRL or HISPANIC or [simply] a MINORITY or FAT or SHORT, hasn't stopped me from achieving my goals. I get whatever I want in life because I'm determined. I find a way, and you can put me behind, in front or miles away from the race, but I can assure you that I will always finish it. Also, I am like super competitive, so I will most likely finish the race first...

Have I ever experienced racism? Yes, once or twice. Actually, maybe more than that, but the thing is, I couldn't care less what people thought of me. My mom taught me an easy, yet effective way to determine whether or not I should care about someone's opinion of me. Ready...

Does he or she pay your college tuition?

Does he or she feed you?

Does he or she buy your clothes?

Does he or she pay for you to have a roof over your head?

If the overall response is NO, then you should not give a crap about what that person thinks of you. Simple.

As I get older, I realize that I will not please everyone around me. Minorities think I want to be white. Whites think I'm too dark to be in their group. Hispanics dislike the fact that I try to speak a well educated English. Tall people laugh at me because I'm so short. Girls think I'm not girly enough and therefore I'm a lesbian. Lesbians don't like me, surprisingly (I really don't get this one Haha!). I have learned that everyone will make up their own opinions about me even before they get to know me, so it is really a loss cause. So, while people spend their time criticizing my way of living, I am already working towards my next goal. Short and simple.

I Finally Feel At Home.

Blogging from: Roma, Italia.

Italia, ti amo bella!!!

I didn't think I could fall in love. I didn't think I could say "I never want to leave." I don't want to leave Europe!

I have always struggle with the feeling and pride that comes with living or being born somewhere. Don't get me wrong, I love El Salvador and I would do anything to help my people; but the years I lived there, I never felt like I was Salvadoran enough.

I remember people used to judge us growing up for eating with a fork and knife, or for always requesting a napkin when we ate. El Salvador is such a poor country that many people take manners as something that is more or less fancy. Furtheremore, people looked at us differently because we lived in a decent neighborhood but we had money to be able to afford something nicer. My mom was the neighborhood' mom. In fact, all my friends I played with daily actually called her mom. Whenever someone had a problem, they would come to her. Yet, people thought we were somehow better than them because my mom could afford to buy things that people in the neighborhood couldn't have. There were even times when people would questioned what my mom did for a living because she had money to take care of all these people.

Moreover, as I grew older and moved to the United States, I immediately felt out of place because society had already placed me in the minority category. I was an immigrant so I didn't belong there. I spoke Spanish so I was a Mexican.

My mom also encouraged the fine arts. She taught us about classical music and also dinning manners. I started reading more and discovered my love for museums and art. This is something that would be no big deal, except for the part where I am constantly called bougie* snobbish, or my favorite: wannabe white.

I am not really a sensitive person. Most jokes or insults don't offend me because I know who I am and I am not any of the things people want to use to attack me, but being called a wannabe white is actually very offensive. I don't understand how trying to be a well rounded citizens means I am trying to be another race or skin color; for that matter. It is very hurtful. I have always been proud to be Hispanic, but I am more than just a Hispanic person. My race doesn't define me. It also doesn't mean I cannot learn about arts or classical music. I think it is about being educated and not one's skin color or social class. As a result, I don't fit American standards. I don't feel at home.

However, Europeans have a very different mentality. I can have a conversation about politics with anyone. I can discuss classical music and operas with many people, and I can talk to anyone about current issues and not feel like an alien.  Don't get me wrong, I'm sure not veryone is like that, but I feel it is easier to meet someone with those likes here. All these things are encouraged in Europe.

One of my favorite moments thus far took place yesterday outside of the Sistine Chapel. I was reading a book that talked about Michaelangelo and the Sistine Chapel when I heard a little kid talking about the different paintings on the ceiling. The kid must have been 9 or 10 years old. He was sitting at a bench, with a person I could only assume was his mom, and he was telling her what he understood from the different paintings. It  was really something beautiful.

My other moment happened when I sitting at the stadium while watching a football match. All people were screaming and chanting and just so passionate about football. That moment was it. In that moment, I decided I didn't want to be anywhere else but Europe. I love this part of the world. I love the people. I love the European mentality.

Bougie: Aspiring to be a higher class than one is.

Riding The Bus Around Europe ( My Megabus Experience)

Whenever I travel somewhere, I always look for a cheap way to do it. I literally (figuratively) typed on the Google bar " cheap way to get from Point A to Point B". Surprisingly enough, I live in Europe at the moment and there are many cheap ways to travel from country to country.

After doing some light research, I found out that taking a bus is cheaper than flying or taking the train. This is especially true if you're booking a trip last minute. There are many bus companies that have a wide range of destinations. There is OuiBus, Megabus, IDBus and Eurolines, just to name a few big ones.

The cheapest bus company by far was and generally is (in my opinion)- Megabus, which is why I booked my tickets through them to go from France to Spain. Based on my experience, I'd like to share some of the pros and cons to taking a bus as opposed to taking any other form of transportation.

Pros

1-The main reason I enjoy taking the bus whenever I visit a new country is because you get to see other places that you wouldn't necessarily have on your itinerary. The bus travels through the country and generally have other stops along the way, which come as a plus you don't intend to visit that particular place. While I traveled with Megabus, we made stops in Toulouse, Berga and Manresa. The last two are cities in Spain. Moreover, I had a chance to admire the more rural side of France. I witnessed miles and miles of breathtaking landscape, traditional French villages with centuries old houses, and buildings and a few vineyards. This is something you don't get to enjoy on a plane. 

2- The price is great. I paid 20 euros for my trip to Barcelona and It was booked 2 weeks before leaving. I had seen it cheaper about a month earlier, but I lost the battle to procrastination. Before booking the trip with Megabus, I searched for flights and trains, but nothing was a cheap as taking the bus.  

3- Another good thing about Megabus is that they make stops every few hours. My trip from Paris to Barcelona was around 10 hours yet, we made four stops along the way. 20 minute stops to stretch legs and get some to eat is always good. The breaks were factored in to the trip, so there is no further delays.

4- I think it is also beneficial to note that the bus is relatively empty, which means that you don't necessarily need to sit next to someone you don't know. Always a plus!

5- The driver was very nice and helpful. As soon as we all boarded the bus and got settled, the driver apologized for being late, and assured us we would make it back not too late. We actually arrived only 30 minutes later than the estimated arrival, even though we left almost two hours later.

Cons 

There were only a handful of things I didn't like about my experience with Megabus. 

1- The departure time was scheduled for 9:45 pm, but we didn't leave until a little after 11 pm. Moreover, not only were they late but no one, not even the person in charge, would give us any answers as to why our bus was late. After the bus arrived at the station, we found out the bus was coming from London, and it had been held up on the French side after crossing the English Channel. 

* According to different Megabus reviews, they're hardly ever late. Hopefully this is true next time I travel with them. 

2- The toilet on the bus is super tiny. I have taken long bus rides before, but I have never seen such a tiny bathroom. It is the smallest thing you have ever seen in your life. 

3- Okay, I'm not sure if I should put the wifi situation under cons. To be honest, the wifi was bad;  however, Facebook and other messaging apps worked just fine. I guess, don't expect to load a video or a movie on the bus and you'll be fine. 

4- I won't lie, If it weren't for the fact that I love traveling and I've done long bus rides before, I would definitely complain about spending 10 hours on a bus. This bus ride could be brutal for someone who doesn't have this kind of experience. 

Overall, I don't have many complains about my experience with this bus company. I enjoyed my time, so much so that I have already booked my tickets from Paris to Milan and back for my adventure in Italy. Plus, 25 euros round trip never hurt!