I wish I had more tales of fun and sun in Australia. Despite hearing about the richness of its neighborhoods, Sydney just didn’t quite do it for me. I enjoyed it, was glad I went, but wouldn’t put it top of my return list. El Gordo rightly pointed it out in his comments – Sydney was surprisingly British with a heavy does of American. And not in a flattering way. Dark clouds started to form that I had made a poor travel decision. But after talking with vacationing Australians in New Zealand who seem rather horrified by Sydney’s state, I finally allowed myself to come to terms with my ambivalence towards Sydney.

My best day in Sydney was actually the day trip out to the Blue Mountains. I don’t commune easily with nature, but I strapped on my squeaky clean (and new) hiking boots and got picked up at 8am by the side of a road (okay, the entrance to my beautiful hotel in downtown). As I tried to explain to CQ the other day, the first hour of a nature trip is generally filled with all sorts of negative thoughts streaming in my head. “It’s hot. My feet hurt. Those German girls are never going to stop talking. When is lunch? We’re walking how far?” Nature has to be pretty good to overcome my overall discomfort with it. Especially if there is climbing or descending up hill, mountains, or paths. Remember not liking skiing because of the falling? Well, I don’t love hiking because of the rocks and climbing on, up, or down. Same issue sans snow.

I couldn’t have chosen a more challenging first nature excursion. Highlight of the day: The Furber steps requiring 1,000 steps down to reach the Jamison Valley. Sure we saw beautiful waterfalls, lots of bush, and the Three Sisters rock formation, but oh the constant reminder that the van was way above. I will admit that my favorite place of the day was the Witches Leap which served as a wayfinding tool for the aboriginal people and the early explorers of the area. The tree and plant canopy is so great and you’re so far down that sky, sun, and stars can be invisible, so the rocks have to be the map.

For me, the day gave me another point on my own life map. I know this, but I forget – enjoyment comes when you’re done putting up false objections. Once you accept your own physical and mental limitations and set them aside, you can actually start to relax and enjoy. Looking back at the day’s pictures, I really did have a good time. I wish I could have realized it more at the time.

r con r barril
rapido ruedan los carros
cargado de azucar del cañaveral

I can’t roll my r’s.   Never been able to.   My dad taught me this saying to help me, but you still won’t get a run of r’s out of me. I haven’t thought about this sentence in awhile, but it popped back into my head while in El Salvador.

For as long as I can remember, if I saw a farm or field full of crops I’d always ask my dad, “What’s growing there?” Sometimes he knew and would tell me; other times we guessed. Soybean was a very popular guess. Passing by this field, however, I knew immediately: Sugar cane!

Three years ago, my parents and I visited El Salvador for New Year’s. We spent most of the week touring around to areas of the country I hadn’t seen before. The sugar cane was tall and ready to be harvested. My dad told me about how sugar cane goes from plant to sugar. We stopped and looked at how sugar cane is still pressed by hand and heated to solidify the sugar. I have always liked the look of green, lush plants growing in a field. There’s something about the wispy flower on top while the cane is growing that I love.

On this trip, I took this picture on our way back to San Salvador after a night at El Sunzal, a beach on the Pacific that is known for surfing. My back was sporting a pretty nasty sunburn from not using any sunscreen and being too excited to hit the beach. We were driving through an area called Sonsonate and after the dry terrain around the beach, all of a sudden the world turned green with beautiful sugar cane just starting to come up. Ever since then, all I hear is my head is “r con r cigarro…” Maybe I can learn how to roll my r’s on this trip.

Now, I just need to find a big stack of coconuts so I can tell you about “Compadre, compreme un coco…”

Sure religion plays an important part of daily life especially around the high holidays such as Easter.  Perhaps more important, however, is the opportunity to get out and see what’s going on.  Good Friday has a variety of activities and events to fill your social calendar.  In the morning, the Stations of the Cross re-enacts the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus.  You can walk the whole route or just meet up for a portion.  Mom and I went prepared with our bottles of water and umbrellas because the sun was ferociously beating down.  I swear I could feel my sandals melting around my feet.

The procession is impressive.  I’ve never seen so many people in San Vicente.  I learned later that it’s also an opportunity to be seen “estrenando”.  For Good Friday you are supposed to debut a new outfit.

There’s always the opportunity to make a quick buck, too.  Just about anyone who could carry a huacal (Salvadoran for bucket or large bowl) was offering water, sodas, or juice.  Going rate for a bag of drinking water, 10 cents.

The highlight, however, is the alfombras that are created throughout the town.  Made from sawdust or salt, the alfombras usually depict a scene from the Easter tale.  The picture of the above alfombra was actually taken by my 10-year-old nephew Oscar.   Although they take all day to create, the alfombras only last a few hours since they get walked on during the late evening Santo Intierro procession which we missed celebrating my cousin Jose’s birthday.

I didn’t know that most of them are created by school or student groups.  The tradition continues to be passed on and continued in a town and country where the old is being pushed out by the latest trends from the U.S.  Not to mention viewing the alfrombras also gives you a chance to walk around, see who else is out and greet them with a “Salud!”

Since El Salvador switched to the US dollar, you no longer have to worry about stopping at an ATM and making sure no one tries to rob you after.  Remember those loopholes I mentioned earlier?  Well, second to searching for loopholes is the Salvadoran way of figuring out who is trying to pull a fast one.

As we did some shopping in San Vicente, my aunt tried to pay for some bread with a $5 bill we gave her only to have it rejected.  The bill was a little beat up, but in the US would be accepted with no problem.  The first reason for its rejection:  the bank wouldn’t accept it from the store owner.  With more cajoling for an explanation came: “El muñeco esta muy chele.”  The muñeco?  President Lincoln’s face on the bill.  Chele?  Well, in their case he looked a little too white.  Unless Lincoln was able to spruce himself up a little, that bill wasn’t leaving our hands.  My mom and I had a good laugh about it even though we wanted to argue at the time.  Ideas and misconceptions get into people’s heads and once suspicion sets it, it’s pretty hard to sway someone in your direction.

Unfortunately, in El Salvador you constantly have to be looking over your shoulder.  Just about every store whether a pharmacy, gas station, or clothing store has an armed guard at the door.  We heard countless stories about people getting chains yanked off their neck.  You live in a state of alertness that we just don’t have in the U.S.  What surprised me though is how fast you start expecting the worst to happen.  My mom and I opened our suitcases yesterday to start unpacking and didn’t immediately find our makeup cases.  The first thing to come to our heads:  that the baggage handlers in El Salvador had stolen them.  We were criticizing and chastising ready to call Continental to complain when we realized they were in the suitcase we hadn’t completely checked.  Isn’t that terrible?

That first class seat looked pretty good to the old woman who boarded the flight from Houston to El Salvador this morning.  I joined her in coach once she was told she couldn’t pick whatever seat she wanted.  I always forget what flights are like to those with limited flying experience.  Everything is delightful; an adventure.   If you need pointers on how to cut lines, take too much luggage, or get a better seat, ask your closest Salvadoran.  We know how to find loopholes.

Today I witnessed the return of carbon paper and the need for three people to help you rent a car.  There’s no such thing as Avis Preferred as I was also warned about the possibility of car theft and police road blocks.  Thankfully, my cousin William met us at the airport and away we went.

All is quiet as the Easter holidays started today at noon.  Most businesses and the government are going to be closed as people either head to the beach or join in on Holy Thursday and Good Friday processions.

One place was packed to the gills tonight:  Comida Tipica Margoth, your one-stop-shop for all traditional Salvadoran cuisine.  I’ve eaten here on past visits, but was never quite allowed to indulge as much I would like under my dad’s watchful eye.  I love walking in and seeing this:

The sight of hot pupusas coming off the grill gets me really excited to be in El Salvador.  There are three women behind the grill scooping, filling, and flipping pupusas; pulling them off right when the cheese starts to ooze out.  I have no idea how they manage to keep the various orders and options straight because they all look the same from the outside.  An insider eating tip:  to avoid scorching the top of your mouth on hot cheese, take your pupusa and rip in half lengthwise before putting it anywhere near your mouth.  Enjoy watching the steam coming out as you double check they gave you enough filling.  You do have to check…remember, we know how to find those loopholes.

You tell someone you’re from Houston and you hear, “Wow, it’s really hot there, right?”  Well yes, it’s Texas and on the Gulf of Mexico, almost hugging the tropics.  Houston is seriously hot and no it’s not pleasant.  I’m biased, but I also think it’s one of America’s great cities.  Sure our overindulgences are evident everywhere – on waistlines, shopping malls, and trucks, but also in spirit.  Houston’s a nice place where people say hi and wish you a good day.   You can afford a nice home and find good schools for your family.  There’s world class shopping and eating.  You can wear short sleeves as early as January when the East Coast is still covered in cashmere.  As much as I love Texas and Houston, for some reason I’ve yet to find my way back.

The moment I land at Intercontinental Airport, I always think and smile, “Home.”  Just to sweeten the deal, the bluebonnets are out in mass, greeting me with a welcome no other place in the world can give me.   Today I’m proud to be a Texan.

Today.  Today starts the leg of my trip that will have me most off kilter.  My mother and I are off to El Salvador for Holy Week and Easter.  This is a pilgrimage I’ve always wanted to do, so I’m looking forward to seeing the rituals still practiced throughout El Salvador.  There’s no five star luxury coming my way over the next week, but rather a time to reconnect with my extended family and hopefully coax my grandmother into telling me more about herself.   Let’s just hope the water to bathe in isn’t too cold.  My mother keeps telling me that “it’s very hot” right now.  Maybe everything will just cancel each other out.