AMAZING MURALS OF ATACO

Bikers check out Ataco's vibrant murals after cruising along El Salvador's famous Ruta de las Flores. 

Visitors to El Salvador usually do at least one of two things--they surf and/or they travel the famous Ruta de Las Flores, a twisting, turning drive lined with ornate murals, flowers, and some of the richest coffee growing territory in the world.

Liz with pig and cow.

We'd already put in some time on the waves, so we headed down the highway out of San Salvador to the tiny town of Nauhizalco, famous for homemade furniture and for being the first stop on La Ruta. 

While the hand-hewn chairs, tables and lamps that lined the highway were uniquely impressive, none would fit in our backpacks. Plus, Kip was hungry, so we headed to Juayua, famous for its weekly food festival and a roaring waterfall (and also our Habitat build). 

Grilled churrasco skewers devoured, waterfall swam, we hopped a bus to the hillside town of Ataco. 

We came for the day but we ended up staying three. The air was cool, the food was tasty, and the murals were spectacular, and plentiful. 

Around every corner of the stone and brick streets, another brightly-painted wall awaited. Scenes of coffee pickers working, children reading, old people smiling, and even a little green alien flying a spaceship decorate nearly every street.

The story behind the murals is somewhat hard to unravel. Wall art in El Salvador is prolific. It's hard to find a vertical stack of bricks without at least something painted on it. 

In Ataco, we were told the first murals began popping up more than a decade ago to beautify the town and attract tourists. The art's beauty, style, and complexity, as well as a related controversy involving an artist, the town's conservative mayor, and the U.S. State Department, continues to evolve.

But enough with the broken history lesson. Below is a sample of Ataco's amazing murals. By the way, in our next lives, we're going to be highly-skilled artists and move to Ataco, where we'll volunteer to touch up the murals whenever necessary. 

OK, so this isn't really a mural. But it could be.
If Rockwell were from El Salvador, surely he would have approved.

DELIVERING BOOKS TO KIDS IN LAOS

Liz holds a book while a girl and her sisters read aloud in Lao. The donated books are the first they ever owned.

Thanks to libraries, caring parents, and Barnes & Noble, people take books for granted. But not everyone has that luxury.

In Laos, where the literacy rate is one of the lowest in Asia (68%), many children have never even seen a book, much less owned one.

We joined up with a local nonprofit here called Big Brother Mouse in its mission to help address this disturbing issue.

As mentioned in a previous post (Speaking English with Monks), Big Brother Mouse creates and publishes children's books in Lao and English. The organization then seeks out travelers visiting remote areas in the country to help distribute the books. 

Before leaving Luang Prabang, we took a big stack of the group's publications with us. We weren't exactly sure where we were headed or to whom we'd give the books, but the folks at Big Brother Mouse assured us we would find the right opportunity. They were so right. 

A father reads to his daughter and some kids he invited over from neighbors' homes. 

We were an hour's scooter ride into the hills that surround Phonsovan in north central Laos. We had come to learn about and meet modern day victims injured by unexploded ordinance, aka, bombs that didn't go off, leftover from the days of the Vietnam war, when the United States made Laos the most bombed country per capita in the world. 

What we found, in addition to the tragic stories of the victims (more on that in another update, hopefully), were children--and their parents--eager to get their hands on books they could call their own. 

Parents and kids alike got excited about the books. A mom reads from one of the donated books.

While hesitant and terribly shy at first, the kids soon began to line up to get their book. As soon as they had one in their hands, they would gather around to read to each other (and to Liz). 

Even more eye-opening was the behavior of the adults. One father sat in a hammock and read to his kids. Another sat and read to herself as if she were holding a bestseller. 

Books simply don't make it to some places in Laos. It was a touching, if not educational moment, especially for us. All four of our parents were teachers at one time. We were lucky--not only did they teach us to read, but they also taught us the value of a book. 

To learn more or support Big Brother Mouse, visit www.bigbrothermouse.com