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Published: July 20th 2009
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Coconut Milk
"Is this supposed to be piss warm?" Two rows behind us a young mother tried to quell the persistent cries of her toddler. This had been going on for approximately one hour. The passengers of Delta Flight # 2073 to Atlanta were losing their patience. Even my cousin Christina, an elementary school teacher, could tolerate it no more. From across the aisle I observed her rolling her eyes; I mock committed suicide by running my index finger across my throat as if though it were a razor. Unlike most parents in this situation this particular mother seemed to demonstrate no remorse for her fellow passengers. Her child exhibiting this type of behavior had clearly become a part of her daily routine; I suspect she wanted to punish us all for not encouraging the government to add both calcium and birth control to public drinking water. It was going to be a long day.
The second leg of our trip to El Salvador proved to be rather uneventful. This particular flight lacked most of the cliché nuances of modern aircraft travel. There was no screaming baby, no turbulence, and no passenger seated behind me chronically coughing. Just as I started to find myself disappointed by the dullness of
Tortilla Man
Me pretending to be disgusted about having just consumed 5,000 calories. this particular leg of the trip the flight attendant remembered it was her sworn duty to crash the beverage cart into me no less than three times. Normally this would bother me, but I was too busy internally celebrating the fact that I now had material to blog about. My father once told me that flying on planes was an occasion that warranted “dressing up”. I wondered to myself, “when exactly was it that flight evolved from a form of romantic travel to simply becoming the Greyhound of the skies?” I suspect it was in 1982 when Richard Branson decided to name his airline “Virgin Atlantic”; it’s probably no coincidence that 1982 is the same year when David Hasselhoff rose to superstardom as the main character in Knight Rider. I still haven’t figured out how the two events are related, but I strongly believe there is a correlation.
Upon arrival to the airport Christina and I were charged a ten dollar tax, or entrance fee to El Salvador. Initially I felt that this tax, which is primarily levied on American tourists, was some sort of taxation via economic profiling; later I concluded it could be worse, most Americans would
Salvadoran Restaurant
The wife and I striking a pose at an authentic Salvadoran Restaurant. be willing to pay several times more to leave this country. Don’t get me wrong, El Salvador has more than its fair share of natural beauty. Its culture is rich, but most of its people are poor, so the infrastructure just isn’t there. All I am saying is that it’s no coincidence that P. Diddy and Paris Hilton would rather vacation in St. Tropez.
My wife Liz greeted Christina and I outside the airport entrance waving a sign with our last name printed on it. It had been seven weeks since I last saw her, and her bright smile and jovial attitude was contagious. Her mother and her cousin were also there to greet us. After a long exchange of hugs and kisses we all piled into a Mitsubishi Eclipse. Many Americans don’t know this, but the Eclipse is regarded by some cultures as the preferred mode of transportation for parties of five or more provided they have luggage in tow. Christina and I were especially delighted to discover that the Eclipse had no air conditioning. Thank god July in El Salvador is mild weather. It was only about 95 degrees, it could be worse; we could be taking
Embassy House
Surpassed our expectations. a tour through hell.
My wife’s mother was kind enough to request that we pull over by a road side vendor and purchase some fresh coconut milk. Christina seemed to enjoy it, I was too busy tasting my knees due to the limited room in the rear seat. On the way to our house my mother-in-law also treated us to lunch at a local restaurant that served authentic Salvadoran cuisine. This was very generous of her. We gorged on carne asada, pollo, arroz, tortillas, guacamole, and some "special" Salvadoran cheese. My job requires frequent background checks and urinalysis, so I pray this “special” cheese has nothing in common with “special” brownies.
After our meal we arrived at the house where Liz had recently been relocated to. The house definitely surpassed our expectations. The home is owned by a U.S. Embassy Diplomat. A family of three normally live here but are currently vacationing in the States. The house has four bedrooms and five bathrooms and appears to be more secure than most military installations. Our bedroom doubles as a panic room (this is not a joke). Upon “checking in” we all decided to take a long overdue nap before
Mariachi Band
The best $1.00 I ever spent. we set off for dinner.
According to Liz’s family and the locals, we feasted on pupusas (tortillas stuffed with cheese, pork and refried beans) at the best pupusaria in all of El Salvador, perhaps the entire world. We enjoyed the live talent of a Mariachi Band. Unfortunately, half way through our meal the restaurant lost electricity and so we dined by candlelight and a book-light that my wife happened to have in her purse . Before we set off for home we stopped at a scenic lookout with a fantastic view of the city lights.
That concludes our first day in El Salvador. I suspect I should have packed more Pepto-Bismol.
We leave for Guatemala early tomorrow.
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This is the best damn travel blog ever!
This is the best damn travel blog ever! Sincerely, J Howard