The Good Ol´ Savior

You know the old saying, ¨good things come in small packages?¨ Well, I can´t find any expression that more perfectly describes the country of El Salvador. The smallest country in Central America, at only 21,040 square kilometers, it is often overlooked by most travelers circuiting the isthmus. However, for those other travelers it is most certainly their loss, as it is really amazing and packs a lot of punch into its little package.

So when the rest of the gang left, driving off in the vehicle held together by masking tape, I found myself standing in the central plaza of the city of Santa Ana, with absolutely no idea as to where I should go or what to do. I knew nothing about El Salvador! Essentially, I was clueless and in need of some guidance.

Luckily for me, I spent that first night in the home of an incredibly friendly and helpful man who was more than willing to share with me his wealth of information about his country. As he sat me down in his living room and spread out half a dozen maps in front of me, going into extensive detail about every city, site and volcano that I just had to visit, I was taken aback by his openness, geniality, and just plain friendliness - something that would become a major element of my time in the country. For the truth is, Salvadoreños are some of the friendliest, most likeable people I´ve met - so much so that I can say without hesitation that they were my favourite part of the country. Everyplace I went I was constantly astounded by their hospitality, outgoingingness and the treatment I received by them - whether it was an older couple coming up to talk to me and find out more about my travels, or the wife of the hotel owner who went out of her way to make sure I was comfortable and that all of my needs were very much met. Now, I´m confident that this characteristic is definitely a Salvadoran trait but I also have my suspicions that it is a result of the lack of tourism and thus, tourists in the country. Whether because of its small size, lack of Caribbean coast, or ill-informed reputation as a ´dangerous country´ (I´ve found other countries to be way more dangerous), there is a very noticeable lack of extranajeros traversing the country - tourism is so low that almost every Salvadoreño that I talked to would ask me what project I was working on, assuming that I was there to work, not travel. And when I replied that I was just ´paseando´, or traveling through, surprise, but also delight would appear on their face and they would begin to ask me a million questions about where I had been, where I was going and my general thoughts on the country. Minimal exposure to brash foreign backpackers has meant that Salvadoreños are still curious and very much welcome to outsiders, and haven´t become jaded to them as can be seen in so many other places.

After my intensive tourism tutorial that first night, I headed north, to the charming colonial town of Suchitoto, where I was incredibly fortunate to run into a young American shortly after arriving. After chatting for a bit, he invited me into the house he was renting with four other friends, and what do you know, I ended up staying there with them for the next three days! They were an awesome bunch and we had a great time together, as the young budding filmmakers showed me the movies and music videos they had been working on and I in turn introduced them to the seductive art of cliff jumping.

Next came the capital, San Salvador. Always a fan of big, noisy and chaotic cities, I loved it and ended up staying a few more days longer than originally anticipated. My first day was spent in the company of a really cool couchsurfer and together we lounged in the park, playing music and singing songs all afternoon. It was through Melvin that I found out that two other viajeros were playing at a cafe that evening, a celloist and a guitarist - which immediately stood out to me - my old roommate from Guatemala, Liz (who plays the cello) and her boyfriend and my old guitar teacher, Hafid, were traveling and playing music through Central America. Could it be a coincidence? I didn´t think so, so that evening I turned up at the cafe and sure enough, there they were onstage, warming up. It definitely was an unexpected, but very pleasant, surprise for all of us, and we took advantage of the situation to spend some more time together while I was in the city.

Through another couchsurfer I got to sneak on a tour of the San Salvador volcano, pretending to be the French/English bilingual tour guide in training. Luckily the Americans who were on the tour were so laid back and cool I really don´t think they would have cared had they found out the truth anyways. But it´s always a little fun to wear a different identity for a while anyways.

From San Sal I went south, to check out some of El Salvador´s 300km long Pacific Coast. Again, the intention of a few days turned into a few more as I extended my stay just a little bit longer. I mean, how many times in your life do you get a whole beach all to yourself, free of other travelers?

As the grand finale, I ended my tour of El Salvador in Perquín, a small pueblo in the northern mountains bordering Honduras. Steeped in history, the area was both the headquarters for the guerrillas and the area most devasted by the brutal 12 year long civil war that raged through the country in the eighties and early nineties. The proximity and abundance of resistance forces taking refuge in the densely forested mountains led to fierce and brutal reprisals on the part of the conservative, staunchly anti-communist military government, who felt no qualms about unleashing their wrath on the civilian population. The remnants of this devastation can be seen everywhere, from gigantic bomb craters in the middle of town to the remains of those bombs that are now located in the town museum. But leftover bombs and half destroyed helicopters were nothing compared to the intensity of the site of El Mozote. On December 11, 1981, government forces took the tiny hamlet by storm and in one evening led a massacre that resulted in over a thousand killed and only one person surviving. While the numbers will never be known for sure, what is known is that the majority of lives taken were innocents - 80% of bodies exhumed have been children under the age of 12. What stands now is a giant memorial to pay homage and respect to those fallen, who lost their lives way too early, and also to stand as a stark reminder of what war really is - a brutal and destructive force that serves no positive purpose whatsoever. For all the glamours that Hollywood or CNN may show of combat and armed force, it is clearly apparent to anyone visiting a site such as El Mozote that those projections are so far from reality. War takes - takes lives, takes innocence, takes any hope of a future and destroys them all, leaving nothing but death and destruction in its wake.

Clearly, visiting such a site was incredibly difficult -  both frustrating and heart-wrenching. On very few occasions have I felt such strong emotions evoked in me, as I felt both pulsating anger that something like this can happen in the first place and overwhelming sadness when I reflected on the fact that this is only one of many places in the world where it does.  But while some may say its macabre to visit, I think it is necessary - by visiting these memorials not only are we paying our respects to those we´ve lost, but we´re also standing up and saying that this can never happen again. Let us hope that we will finally learn from history and these memorials will be our last.

Suchitoto Cathedral

Hanging out in the park of San Sal

Sunset at Los Cóbanos

Rufina Maya, the lone survivor of El Mozote

We must live in peace with ourselves so we don´t lose life´s values. To value what we have, we must know our origin. Those who don´t know their history are condemned to repeat the past.

The El Mozote Memorial - each plaque contains the names of those murdered by the army

Operation Flying Hawk 2011!

So, with the decision made to leave, it was just a matter of when and where. With my birthday approaching it seemed like the perfect opportunity to really exit in style, and after much debate and discussion, it was decided that myself and three good friends and roommates (Javi, Aida and Luke), would be roadtripping it to El Salvador. (We later picked up a fifth member). Nevermind that the whole Pacific Coast of Central America was feeling the wrath of a vicious tropical storm - our minds were made, we were determined, it was going to happen. And besides, lemons can always be made into lemonade right? (The chante ¨limonada¨ would later become the slogan of our trip).

So, a roadtrip it was. Now, for regular people, planning might start off with such logistical details as finding a car, planning a route, all that boring business. Not for a Yogamigo! Instead of wasting our time on such minor logistical details we focused on the really important stuff - such as creating a secret mission for ourselves. Under the code name Operation Flying Hawk 2011, we quickly got to work creating aliases for ourselves (Bobby DeNiro - Money Extortionist Extraordinaire, Bomba Jackson - Explosives Expert, Leroy Brown - Team Pimp and Trixie Hawk - Pigeon Fender Numero Uno), identification cards, and even a team mascot for an important member that couldn´t be with us. By the end of the day we had all we needed: new names, objectives and roles, a stove made out of a beercan and minor explosives. Everything except for an actual car. Or food. Or a map.

However, that proved to be a small bump in the road, easily overcome by a highly trained team such as ourselves and we soon found ourselves off, cruising down the Central American Carretera #1. Nothing but adventure ahead!

Well, it soon became apparent that the news reports of landslides, collapsed bridges, uprooted trees and other disasters that occur in less developed countries after 10 days of continual torrential rain had a lot of validity to them. We encountered a number of shocking things on the road but the real test for Operation Flying Hawk came when we were just 50km from the border - a huge, gaping chasm in the highway at least 20 meters across and 20 meters deep. We were slightly suspicious when they told us it would be fixed in an hours` time.

Now, most people would feel defeated at such a sight, and perhaps turn back or contemplate a change in plan. Not for Operation Flying Hawk! In fact, this is the type of situation Operation Flying Hawk thrives off of - and it`s what it was made to do - surmount the insurmountable. And once again, the team proved its worth and after a short delay of 3 or 4 hours, once again, we were off.

Despite all the odds working against us, we made it to El Salvador - tired and hungry, but happy to be there and happy to be there together. And lo and behold, shortly after, the rains stopped. Thank you Mother Nature, you couldn´t have given me a better birthday present.

Having already spent many, many hours in our slowly falling apart Mazda SUV, we decided to carry forth the rest of the operation along the banks of a beautiful crater lake - Lago de Coatepeque. In fact, through our covert list of international contacts, we were able to stay por gratis on private lakeside property, got to meet a bunch of incredible people and have a private pizza party in a closed bakery. Can say you limonada? 

Any successful mission requires excellent planning

And we`re off!

A common scene - where are we going again?

How does the road just collapse?

Lago de Coatepeque

Operation Flying Hawk

Our vehicle by the end of the trip

Xela who?

Now that I´m restarting up this blog, I find myself at a loss as to where to even begin or how to accurately summarize my time in Guatemala. The past 6 months have been some of the most memorable, meaningful, profound and enlightening of my life. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic or a bit dramatic, I feel overwhelmed when I reflect back on all that I´ve experienced and learned - and in all respects - pertaining to not just Guatemala, but about myself, other people and life in general. I´m just beginning to appreciate how lasting and formative this experience has been - something that as time progresses will become more and more apparent.

So down to business. Now that I´ve emptied the depths of my soul on to this webpage, what exactly happened in this little Central American republic this past half year that left such a deep impression on me? Well, a lot, and even I´m not so idealistic as to think that I can even scratch the surface of six months in one blogpost, so what follows is a very brief outline. Not satisfied and want more details? Shoot me a line! I´m always open to good old fashioned emails!

I arrived in Quetzaltenango, better known as Xela (Shay-la) in the last days of April, geared up to properly study Spanish. As always, I had no real plan of action but envisioned myself there for one to two months. While I remained open to any possibilities, in no way could I have forecast that I would end up spending such a long period of time there. Obviously there was something about that little place that resonated deeply with me.

A few days after arriving I found a great school and signed myself up to start classes the next day. Super keen to  get a better grasp on this language, I threw myself at my studies and it wasn´t a rare sight to see me revising early in the morning or plastering posters of irregular verbs on my bedroom walls. While I only took formal instruction for six weeks, it was a goal that remained (and still does) high on my list of objectives and I kept on top of it in various ways - lots of newspaper reading, intercambios and practice, practice, practice! So where I am at now you ask? Not great - but definitely a lot better than I was six months ago! I´ve also learned that with language learning there really is no substitute for time - you just can´t cram it. So let´s see where I am in six more months.

Luckily the school I studied at was really great and I had the opportunity to meet some fantastic people - both fellow students and instructors. It was a great way to settle into and get to know Xela. But by far the most definining aspect of my time in Xela was the Yoga House. Now, most of you reading this are already probably well-aquainted with this yoga studio-extranjero meeting point- insane asylum, but there will be a few who aren´t so I´ll give a brief introduction. While I did try the homestay option out for the first week I was in town, I soon realized it just wasn´t my thing and began to look elsewhere for somewhere to live. By a chance encounter in the local bookshop, I discovered the Yoga House and moved myself in by the end of the week. What is the Yoga House? Well, firstly and obviously, a yoga studio. But secondly, a communal living space, shared amongst anywhere from 10-14 people, depending on the situation. With 11 bedrooms occupied all by foreigners from all over the world (Spain, the USA, Belguim, Britain, Australia, Canada, Japan, Chile and Singapore were all represented in my time there), and plenty more friends constantly hanging out in what is probably Latin America´s best kitchen, there was never a dull moment. It was so dynamic, that very shortly after settling in I came to the realization that it could easily be its own sitcom. Appropriately named Yogamigos, the idea really took off and it become common parlance around the house to say, when yet another zany event happened, ¨this sounds like an episode of......¨. Some of us actually got pretty serious about it and starting plotting and writing down episodes - which I still have with me, waiting for the perfect time to approach a Hollywood producer with my million dollar idea. My personal favourites include The Goat Lady Benefit Concert, The Love Letter, and Son of Sniffer. Keep your eyes out for Yogamigos!

But seriously, it was through the Yoga House, the adventures and mishaps I had there, and the people I met, that led me to staying so long and feeling as deeply as I do about the place. Above all it was about the people - the community I fell into and the great friends I made that made me fall in love with the place. I was fortunate to meet so many incredible and inspiring people and forge strong friendships with them that I consider myself to be such a lucky girl. So I want to say a big thank you to you all - you know who you are. You have played such an integral role in my life and led me on crazy adventures, had deep discussions with me, and shared many, many laughs with me (and even some tears - but mostly on my part!). You rock!

And then, besides the aforementioned studying, what else did I do to keep myself occupied for 6 months? A lot! I ran a small peanut butter business (Manifico), climbed the highest point in Central America (Volcano Tajamulco), trekked for five days through the jungle to perhaps the grandest Mayan city of them all (El Mirador), learned to milk a goat and make cheese from it, attempted to make yogurt, biked 100km in one day to the coast, learned to weld, helped build a foosball table, jumped off a 20m high cliff, volunteered as an English teacher, went on a human rights mission in the heart of rural Guatemala, and learned guitar, just to name a few.

After all that adventure, and some pretty intense moments, I decided (for the 3rd and final time) to say goodbye. Goodbyes are never easy, especially for me, but I felt ready and knew it was time to move on. And so, backpack safely secured on back, camera in place around my neck, and guitar in hand, I waved and said, ¨Adios Yogamigos!¨ End of series.

For more photos: http://s1177.photobucket.com/albums/x349/nmazga/My%20heart%20belongs%20in%20Guatemala/Kicken%20it%20around%20Xela/