Travel is the tonic of life. What passes by as the ordinary for those submerged in their own daily life is new and stimulating for the traveler.
I flew in at night, so could only see the lights that flicker with power that is not so sure of its source. From the lights on the ridges, I can tell the countryside is mountainous even if I was unaware of my destination.
The airport is as almost all Central American airports are, and what else could it be. The warm, almost stagnant air greets you as you pass from airplane air to local air. The dim yellowish lights show your way, tired, as are most of the customs agents.
My baggage magically appears on the conveyer belt with the erroneous hand written flight number next to it. The thrill of seeing my bag again is almost a homecoming of sorts.
Hopping into a local taxi after looking around to see that it looks safe, the warm night air is a welcome relief from Minnesota. After driving for a while, I ask “Cuantos kilometers a San Salvador?” to which , cuarenta cinco “forty five” is a nice reply.
The smell in the air, is that smell, that burning wood, trash, something smell that seems to be at every origin country.
Well, in the hotel now. Las Palmas Suites, in zona rosa, and I have a Micky D’s out my window, after running the gauntlet of KFC, Burger King, etc. As I’ve said before, San Salvador looks like a U.S. strip mall juxtaposed into a tropical country. Not my favorite, but Illinois interstates don’t have trees anymore, and don’t look much different. The countryside is a different story. And the countryside and the coffee is why we came down to El Salvador.
I am looking forward to the trip tomorrow with George and Andrew to Finca Kilimanjaro with Aida. In fact, this whole week is going to be great. This week will post new information about the coffees we find, the new regions we cup, and photos of the horrible wind damage that hit El Salvador, Guatemala, and parts of Chiapas.
