A Journey

A Journey:

I was headed to Jocoro, normally about a 2 hour bus ride from my site, to visit a friend who is a volunteer there. He has art classes and I would like to have the same at my site, so I was excited to observe. I waited out front of my house for the bus, but a pick-up came first. There were people in the back so I decided it was safe to hop on.

Since the closest spots to the cab were taken, I clung for dear life on the back corner of the truck, clenching my bag between my legs and occasionally daring to lift a hand to readjust my dress. In the nearest pueblo we lost most of the passengers (by choice, they didn´t fall) and I was starting to get comfortable. By this I mean I had lost feeling in my thighs, my backside was numb and my neck was stuck slightly cocked over my right shoulder. But I had the best seat in the back of the truck. Just then, it started to rain. Luckily, the driver pulled over and let me get inside the car. I was hesitant, but there was a little old lady in the front so I figured it was safe. Also fortunate, I could get a right practically all the way to Jocoro.

Once there, or at the diez y ocho, I waited in the pouring rain for the bus to take me to Brian´s site. Many people asked for my umbrella, and while I was slightly ashamed to be the only one sheltered by the rain, I wasn´t about to give it up. I was in a dress! I quickly boarded the bus, leaving behind a slew of dripping Salvadorans at my heels, only to sit down next to a lady who was either drunk, crazy or I had hit one too many bumps in the back of that pick up. The 10 min bus ride consisted of me buying some weird fruit filled marshmallow that was placed on my lap by a cute 6 year old boy that I coudln´t turn away, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with the lady screaming profanities in my direction, and taking only the minimum breaths possible to keep my blood pumping, as I´m pretty sure someone on the bus had pee´d themselves.

I was entralled when I finally reached my destination, despite my very dirty feet, wet dress and the awkward taste that coated my mouth after the marshmallow ¨treat¨.

The art class and visit were what was expected. Now that I´ve reached the point of my journey... let me get on to the travel home.

Seeing it was 3:30, I knew I had to catch the very next bus from the diez y ocho, for the last bus from the pueblo to my canton was at 6. I patiently waited, as someone who I thought was a nice young man, advised me when the next bus was coming. He worked for the bus route and was explaining how soon all the buses would use tickets, to be more accurate, blah blah. And certain as the sun sets, the conversation ended with him hitting on me and me feeling extremely awkward and without an emergency exit route. When the bus pulled up, I practically cried in relief and spent most of the bus ride praying I never encounter that man again. Note: do not wear dresses while traveling ever again.

The second bus, on the way to my pueblo, I sat next to another seemingly nice ¨lady¨ (well she had a mustache). She lived in my pueblo and was a kindergarten teacher there. We talked for a long time and I concluded she was very nice... but was also questionably hitting on me. She gave me her number, and I took it, just glad I didnt have to give her mine. We pulled up at the pueblo at 5:58 and she watched me longingly as I sprinted for the next bus......which pulled away just as I arrived. I took out my phone, ready to call my new ¨friend¨ when I remembered I knew someone who lived on the corner. The problem was really that my dog was alone in my house. The guy on the corner was the first genuine Salvadoran encounter I had all day, and he, gracias a dios, had a friend with a pick up who was heading to my canton.

And so the story ends as it started. Me on the back of a pickup heading to my house. This time, I was surrounded by approx 30 men coming home from the fields, and I was in no mood to talk, or should I say be harassed. I stood in the corner, looking up at the sky, thankful that I would make it home before the last ray of light.

I hopped off at my counterparts house, not wanting the herd of men to see where my house was located, and then ran home to my Barro. He had successfully eaten everything in the garbage, including half a styrofoam plate, a new sponge from my shelf and had finished chewing up the sandal he had started on yesterday, but he did manage to poop (solid!) only inches from the door. And so I was happy. I collapsed on my bed at 7pm.

Whoever said, ¨Its not the destination, its the journey¨ must have served in peace corps el salvador.