No Tocas!!

As noted at the end of my last post, I finally made it to La Libertad with Claudia. Schedules or any sort of planning in advance does not really jive with this culture, or any Latin culture in my experience. I usually find this an attractive quality and one reason why I like Latin America...spontaneity, go with the flow, the "P" in my ENFP personality. Ordinarily, I too see deadlines as a sort of general guideline and avoid being bound by obligation, but it was a little annoying to go 3 weeks with the constant scheduling and rescheduling.

Let's be honest...the real root of this annoyance was mostly sprung from the needless showers. Really threw off my normal, completely low-maintenance routine. The pool and ocean are just far more efficient means of bathing here. It seems silly to take regular showers if you're just going to be in one of those bodies of water 5 minutes later. So, I've come to develop a kind of aversion to "getting ready"...showering, putting on something other than a bathing suit...and blow drying my hair...forget about it (the latter also has to do with a particular botched bang trim I administered on myself...not my finest decision). So, on the 5 plus occasions that we had a day and time set, I'd get all ready, walk to her house and find out (as I had come to expect after the 3rd failed attempt...slow learner) that she needed to reschedule. If someone needs to reschedule in the U.S. they would generally email or call you...but here, most people don't use the world wide web and don't have iPhones attached to their hands at all times...we're taking it back to the old school.

Anyway, on Friday our plans actually came to fruition. I met her at her house where her 2 kids were excitedly reminding her to bring back "dulces" and "jugos" and other treats. We headed out towards the highway to catch the bus. There really are no bus stops...you kind of just hail one like a taxi. As we walked, like everyone else in El Salvador, Claudia proceeded to walk along the white line despite the speed and close proximity of the cars and semi trucks whizzing by. Seriously, people stroll on the highway as if they were cloaked in some sort of indestructible bubble wrap...with no fear and seemingly no acknowledgement that their strength is vastly inferior to any automobile...or bike with momentum for that matter. The weird thing is that there are large shoulders on both sides of the highway (which seem to be there out of necessity, because due to the crazy driving and constant passing 3-wides, defined as 3 cars parallel to each other on a 2 lane highway, are really quite common...even an occasional 4-wide), so it's not for lack of space. Thus, it begs the question...why the white line? I guess their answer must lie in the very popular bumper sticker found on many of the buses, "Protected by Jesus."

Once we found a bus to hail, it pulled over just enough to allow us to get one foot on a stair before it was quickly back on course. Claudia had me enter first, and I awkwardly stumbled my way to the first open seat, very aware that every pair of eyes was staring at me. Freaking blonde hair...gives me away every time. It's about a 40 minute bus ride to Libertad, but not today. After being on the bus a mere 10 mintues our driver pulls over along side the road in the middle of nowhere, exits the bus without explanation and disappears for a good 25 minutes. Tough to say where he went...my prediction is that he was stopping to harvest some good ole Salvadorian green bud...just a hunch.

So, as we waited we continued to attempt to get to know each other better through conversation completely in Spanish. It was rough at times, but overall I could keep the conversation going. Eventually our driver returned (with his crop to take to market?) and we were back en route.

In Libertad, the buses make their way down these ridiculously small streets crowded with people shopping and lined on both sides with vendors selling anything from fresh fish to Hanna Montana backpacks. I wouldn't want to drive a Smart car down these streets let alone a huge Blue Bird school bus. We exited the bus, and would you believe it?!...like the demographics on the bus, I was once again the absolute only blonde or white person for that matter, in sight. Surprise, surprise. I felt like the middle-aged hot mom with a boob job and spandex at a 24-Hr. Fitness...piece of meat. And I don't say that in a conceited, I think I'm hot way...I'm very aware that their interest lies solely in the fact that, despite the American view of the word, my blonde hair makes me "exotic" in this culture. In all my time in El Salvador, both this year and last, I've never really ventured far off the beaten path to the total local areas, and due to the surf culture, most places you'll find some white people venturing about.

So this was a first. And although physical touch is one of my love languages, unsolicited touch from strange men does not qualify. Let's just say, I used the phrase "No tocas!" (Don't touch!)like a broken record. I've experienced cat calling and verbal harassment in these sorts of situations before, but I've never experienced this type of repeated petting. Claudia seemed to find it pretty amusing (and to be clear...I didn't ever feel unsafe or totally violated) and tried to translate what they were saying. Instead of "gringa," the slang word for white girl in Mexico, they use the word, "chile" (not sure on the spelling). I'm not entirely certain what she was trying to tell me, but it did include the word "culo" multiple times, which translates as "butt/ass." And from the way I was greeted, and unbeknownst to me, it would seem that I have a plethora of lovers ("mi amor") and boyfriends ("mi novia") in this country.

...TO BE CONTINUED