rain, goldfish, fireworks, and kites

So, when I last left you, I was leaving to walk home in the rain. It was raining harder than I thought, so I ran. I first ran to Casa Romero, seeking refuge until the rain let up, but I rang the doorbell to no avail. Then I ran to Casa Silvia, where I finally realized that no one was answering the doors because the power had gone out. (Of course it didn´t occur to me to just knock.) So I just ran all the way home, much more wet than I would have been if I had just done that in the first place. I ran waving `hola!´ past Esteban, the vigilante outside of our gate, who just threw his head back and laughed at me. I have never seen any Salvadorans running through the rain. They look at you like you´re crazy if you do. `Look at this gringa! Running through the rain like a child!´ I can´t deny it. And that image and description of myself in a way gives me peace. It´s who I am. I love the rain.
Anyway, when I got home, I took off my wet clothes and went to the bathroom, putting a drop of soap in my hands only to realize that the sky had stolen all the water. So in naught but me skivvies, I stepped out onto the balcony and washed my hands in the rain. Jamie was with me, taking pictures of the downpour, in absolute fascination of the rain here. It´s different, she said. And I responded, `Yeah, it´s like the sky really had to pee.´ She laughed and told me she really didn´t like that image. I don´t know why I said it, it´s just what came to me. But certainly there are better metaphors.
But the rain really does feel different here. And the lightening and thunder is much much louder, and echoes in your body. You feel it all over. There was a lake forming outside our house, and I thought `Shit. My laundry.´ Thankfully, Franny (our house cook) had moved it in for me, but that doesn´t get rid of the damp mildew smell.

On September 15, independence day in El Salvador (`supuestamente´says Lolo. They are still not free from my dear country...), I walked through the street with a tupperware dish holding two goldfish and staring up at a sky of fireworks. The goldfish were found in our Agua Cristal (the bottled water we drink here) - a prank played on our house by Trena´s daughters. I was on my way to Trena´s to return them, and assure the girls that we will get them back.

Kites here are made with string wrapped around giant hexagon-shaped wooden boxes. Much easier to release. In the late afternoons at Mariona, all the children run through the streets flying kites. I would like to paint this image. In a couple weeks for community night, we are going to have a painting party. I suppose I will paint it then.

I met a woman on Wednesday named Niña Mari. She was about seventy years old, and didn´t even come up to my shoulders. She shared a piece of her story about the war, thanked God more times than I could count, shed a few tears, and talked without taking a breath for about an hour. She was wearing a blue dress and an apron, and served us Pepsi.

Some thoughts.