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Hello
from San
Salvador
El
Salvador,
¨San¨ is
the city,
¨El¨ is
the
country.
For a
while
that
important
distinction
confused
me. The
noon bus
from
Managua
actually
left on
time.
Our
route to
San
Salvador
required
a
transit
through
Honduras
and the
need to
go
through
their
customs
and
immigration
processes
twice.
The
staff
with our
ultra-deluxe
Tica Bus
handled
most of
the
paperwork.
Long
lines
and
tedious
Nicaragua
exit
processing,
however took
twenty
minutes.
Entry
into El
Salvador
required
the
purchase
of a $10
tourist
card
good for
a 90 day
stay in
the
country;
a 48
hour
transit
is free.
Clearing
customs
involved
a 30
minute
delay
while
ultra-curious
agents
inspected
every
article
in my
bag and
a pair
of
vicious
looking
dogs
sniffed
the
cargo
hold
containing
the
other
passenger's
bags.
They
gave us
hot
meals at
the
start of
the trip
and
substantial
snacks
along
the way,
all for
a fare
of $27. Someone
with
serious
psychological
problems
must
have
chosen
the two
videos
shown on
our bus:
¨The
Green
Mile¨
and ¨The
Texas
Chain
Saw
Massacre.¨
I tried
to
ignore
both,
but the
violent
images
kept
sneaking
into my
field of
view.
The bus
arrived
about 11
PM in
what
appeared
to be an
upscale
suburban
residential
neighborhood.
About a
half
mile up
a hill I
could
see a
tall
building
with a
lighted
sign
announcing
¨PRESIDENTE.¨
As that
name
usually
refers
to a
hotel I
hoisted
my bag
and
began
hiking
through
the
darkened
streets
in the
general
direction
of the
sign.
Forewarned this
is a
dangerous
country,
I kept
up a
brisk
pace and
noted
every
shadowy
movement
along
the way,
finally
reaching
what
indeed
turned
out to
be a
very
nice
hotel.
Serendipity
struck
again
and a
sympathetic
night
clerk
immediately
responded
to my
expression
of
horror
at the
announced
$140
room
rate. As
I asked
about
alternatives,
it
looked
like my
first
night in
El
Salvador
would
need to
be a
budget
buster;
near
midnight
my options
were
narrow.
Then the
receptionist
paused
looking
wryly at
me and
noted he
could
give me
a $99
corporate
rate, if
I could
name any
company
affiliation.
¨Retired,¨
I
replied.
With
what
must
have
been a
hang-dog
expression
I pulled
out my
wallet
prepared
to bite
the
bullet.
¨Just a
minute,¨
says he
pausing.
¨I can
give you
the $79
Embassy
rate.
Would
that
help?¨
I must
have
brightened
considerably
because
he
seemed
to be
enjoying
our
negotiations.
With a
¨Sunday
Brunch¨
included
breakfast
every
morning
I
quickly
got
accustomed
to this
affordable
luxury
and
ended up
staying
in the
Hotel Presidente
until an
assistant
manager
kicked
me out
when I
asked
for
second
two day
extension.
¨Fully
booked¨
he
announced
without
smiling
and my
bus trip
up to
Tagucigalpa
had to
be
pushed forward
a couple
days
from
what
I'd planned.
The
Salvadorians
include
a
grilled
spiced
corn
meal
patty as
a staple
with
most
meals.
Called a
pupusas
it forms
the
shell
for all
sorts of
fillings,
several
of which
I
enjoyed
sampling.
My room
in the
Presidente
turned
out to
be
within
range of
a Wide
Area
Network,
a
reliable
and fast
¨hot
spot.¨
That
meant my
little
iPAQ
Pocket
PC gave
me
instant
access
to the
Internet
whenever
I felt
moved to
use it.
The
Lilliputian
screen
soon
became
large in
my minds
eye and
experimenting with
the
wireless
keyboard
I
discovered
it is
possible
to
comfortably
enter
large
bodies
of text
when
necessary.
I am now
addicted
to this
essential
convenience.
Before
leaving
I loaded
several
hundred
of the
old
classics
available
in the
Microsoft
Reader
format
into the iPAQ.
Having
finished
the Da
Vinci
Code I
am now
reading
the
Alexander
Dumas
classic
Ange
Pitou, a
very
long
story
set
amidst
the
climax
to the
French
Revolution.
Though
the
language
is
archaic,
it is a
page
turner
and full
of
historical
facts
relating
the
French
and
American
love
affairs
with
liberty.
One
night I
heard
what for
all the
world
sounded
like the
beginnings
of a new
revolution not
far from
the
hotel.
What I
heard
were not
firecrackers;
these
were
BOMBS,
or
something
that
made as
much
noise.
Hotel
staff
assured
me no
war had
started,
but
failed
to
provide
a
satisfactory
explanation
for all
the
violent
noise. A
night or
two
later
nature
repeated
the
performance
with
nearly
constant
lightning
flashes
and
rolling
thunder
that
passed
directly
over the
hotel.
Not a
drop of
rain
fell. El
Salvador
has some
very
strange
weather
in
addition
to
celebrating
who
knows
what
special
event
with
explosive
enthusiasm.
San Salvador is divided into the rich and the poor sections, not unlike most affluent cities of the world. Out in the wealthy suburbs in the vicinity of our five star hotel uniformed guards armed with serious looking firepower could be seen in every block. The central business district surrounds the main Central Plaza with the San Salvador Cathedral near-by. Down town I saw very few police and almost no private security guards. Most of the buildings are in decay. Dirty streets and stained buildings give the impression most people would rather live and work somewhere else.
Everyone
cautioned
me to be
very
careful
about
walking
deserted
streets
in this
area at
any hour
of the
day or
night.
But, you
know me.
I walked
and I
walked...
with
dramatically
elevated
awareness
of
potential
attack
threats.
In
reality,
this
town
does not
feel all
that
different
from
most
other
¨dangerous¨ cities
I've
explored.
My guess
is the
probability
of being
mugged
or the
victim
of
gang
violence
is
vanishingly
small
for
anyone
not
deliberately
presenting
themselves
as a
target...
just as
it is
even in
the most
dangerous
cities
of the
world...
like New
York or
Los
Angeles!
I
rode
city
buses
into the
city,
getting
lost
twice.
During
one of
the
getting
lost
trips I
had the
correct
bus
number,
but it
had
changed
into a
¨special¨ run
for this
trip.
And what
a trip
we had.
This
route
zig
zagged
into and
out of
several
dingy
manufacturing
districts,
at one
point
entering
a grid
locked
intersection
and in
the
middle
of this
making a
¨U¨ turn
with
unbelievable
forward-backup
maneuvers
that
boggled
the
mind. So
well
organized
was the
traffic
controller
out
among
all the
bumper
to
bumper
stalled
traffic
I assume
that
darned
bus made
the same
preposterous
run
everyday!
On
another
bus ride
some guy
who may
have
been
drunk
ran at
the bus
and
threw
himself
under
the left
front
tires.
The
driver
swerved
and
braked
hard. I
heard no
thump.
The
driver
opened
his
window
and
looked
down at
the
pedestrian.
In a
moment
the guy
got up
and
nonchalantly
walked
away.
The
driver
and I
exchanged
looks
which
showed
we both
figured
the guy
had to
be crazy.
While
walking
the city
I
noticed
a
peculiar
smell
like taco
shells
cooking
in oil.
It
dawned
on me
that
travel
always
offers a
buffet
of
smells
and that
recognizing
and
comparing
odors is
one of
the
subtle
joys of
foreign
travel.
Once
habituated
to the
odors in
our
usual
surroundings
they
become
invisible.
Being
presented
with a
constantly
changing
kaleidoscope
of smells
gave me
an
appreciations
of the
olfactory
joys
which
dogs
must
enjoy.
The old
ear
infection
that
caused
me so
much
trouble
in
Malaysia
a couple
years
ago
reappeared.
This
time I
had the
remainders
of the
special
antibiotic
that had
controlled
it
previously
and it
worked
again.
What
threatened
to be a
week of
notable
discomfort
resolved
itself
in a
couple
days.
Everything
is
priced
in dollars
in El
Salvador.
The US
dollar
is the
only
currency
I ever
saw used
during
my six
day stay,
even
though
the
country
does
have a
national
currency
the
Colon (about
9.1
colons per
dollar).
Prices
of all
goods
available
in the
several
modern
shopping
malls I
visited
are
comparable
to those
in
California.
Gasoline
prices
range
between
$2.50
and
$3.00
per
gallon.
Unlike
other
Central
American
countries
which
readily
accept
US paper
currency,
El
Salvador
also
uses our
coins!
It makes
me
wonder
why they
even
bother
to print
national
money.
Peace,
Fred L Bellomy
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 Reference photo:
authorAugust 2002 |
