Familia

Familia

“She’s flirting with the customs man!” We watched from the windows outside the airport as Christina smiled and twirled her hair in her fingers, the customs man with his back towards us. “So she can speak Spanish?” my friend asked. “Nope. Shes speaking English Im pretty sure” I replied. How long are they going to talk for? Whats going on?

She finally comes outside, curses the heat and enlightens us with the customs man extensive English vocabulary and even better pick-up line “facebook?”

I know I do this with every visitor, but I cant believe she is gone already. I remember a poem I read in high school about the Time Keeper. Sometimes, I hate that bastard. He is pretty inconsistent you know? A veces turning minutes into hours and then just as suddenly hitting fast forward. Don’t you think we should have just a little more control? But then again, I’ve also read time doesn’t exist…

From night 1, to changing in the gas station bathroom and hanging with friends at a Guns N Roses cover band, to night 9 at the same bar we started, burned faces and sleepy eyes, I could not have asked for a better week…or sister (Gracias a Dios, I was given triple).

Day 1, we beat the sun to the horizon and headed to the beach from the dark and dreary Eastern Bus Terminal. The ride was long and sweaty but the viejito behind me only clawed my head with his extra long Salvo nails 3 times (instead of 5) so we pretty much arrived unharmed.

We got down to business and covered ourselves in paint since the Ultimate Frisbee Gringo Tournament was about to start. We played our hearts out, as the photos can tell you, and then ran down the beach to do our best to rinse off in earth’s largest Jacuzzi. The night was spent bonding with volunteer friends, scarred-for-life questioning by Greg and Tyler and the occasional “Ice-ing” (Christina’s voluntarily).

Day 2 was my dinamica for the sis to the Safety and Security charla, so we hitch-hiked our way to San Miguel, to the desvio, to Gotera, to Osicala and finally my community, effectively paying $0 from the $0 I andar-ed (don’t let your debit card expire). We arrived, once again tired and sweaty, (summer’s here!) and Christina “oh shit!-ed” her way through her first ice-cold shower.

We wasted no time traversing my entire community and so my sister met everyone from my wheel chair recipients and scholarship winners, to no-teethed-Tina and always-giving-me-Papayas-Pedro. Before racing the sun, yet again, we had swayed in approximately 14 hammocks and eaten 8 refrigerios. With every food offering, Christina would look at me with wide-skeptical eyes and ask “Can I eat this? Is this okay to drink?” and I would shrug my shoulders while cocking my head and already be swallowing… (Confianza 1, Immune System 0). Note: See blog “Amoebas”.

Day 3-5 were more of the same, visiting my community. One particular day we did a hike through the mountains, visiting a molienda where we watched my diligent piropo-ers turning sugar cane into honey. We tasted the sweet candy they had made, as Vaquito stole sips from the pila. Interesting how dogs are. I leave the little guy running loose without food for a week in my community and yet when I return, he is never more than 4 feet by my side. Actually, upon my return I was sitting outside in my plastic chair and cell-service-spot when he came bounding across the fields and jumped straight up onto my lap, nearly botar-ing me backward and covering me in paw prints of cow dung. But that’s another story…

So, there we were, Christina and I hiking through the mountains, nibbling on bananas and swimming in the waterfalls that irrigate my community. We laughed at how awkward we looked in pictures and lamented at Vaquito’s insistence to be welded to my shin. More than once I was forced to go rescue the helpless canine since he had subir-ed where he was unable to bajar.

And por fin, Thursday had arrived and we were being awaited by La Playa Tunco so we woke at 3:30am, did our best to bathe in the dark of the morning and the wintery water and hopped on the 5am bus to San Miguel. We stood almost 2 hours, since I guess everyone was headed to the beach that morning (actually none were) but at least looked forward to the next “special” bus that would provide us with 2 hours of air conditioning. Much to our dismay, there were no seats left on that bus either and so El Salvador is never a surprise.

The next few nights were spent at the beach, fighting off the local surfers “yes we know you LIVE at the beach, no we’re not going to “date” you, yes that’s cool you’re a local, no we’re still not going with you, yes you have nice abs….”.

We played ping pong and soccer, swam and surfed (AKA watched surfers), ate good food and had good drinks. By day 3 the color of Christina’s skin told us it was time to go and my butterflies multiplied exponentially as I realized her time was coming near.

Back to San Sal for the last remaining hours, the car ride was quiet. The panes were down and we each looked out our respective windows, feeling nothing but the summer breeze across our faces. It reminded me of the serenity of silence. The loudness of the wind that is almost unperceivable as you let it envelope you; Equivalent to the utter calm of water. When you completely submerge your body and head and you are alone, completely alone in the world. It is why I love the water… Because you can go under there and hear nothing but the peace in the world. I think I smile every time I am underwater and I feel and hear the peace and I think to myself “I Love this, I want to live here”. It doesn’t matter if your eyes are opened are closed; it is the greatest feeling.

And so, again, alone in my thoughts on the windy car ride back to reality, I long for another week. But, for the better, I feel my world has changed. They say you live by a city your whole lifetime and may never really get to know it. 19 years I’ve been with my sister, yet there was so much I didn’t know. I blame myself for not getting to know her sooner.

For not appreciating her song-like laugh that is undoubtedly exactly the same as that which she had when she was 4 years old while watching Homeward Bound, and the same laugh I hear when I look at the photo on my wall of her running toward the horsey at my Dad’s yacht club. For not acknowledging her desire to learn and not admiring her shameless yearning to understand the unknown. For not recognizing sooner her incapability of hurting someone’s feelings and not hugging her enough for it. For the maturity with which she carries herself, yet the humbleness that keeps her level (prestame some por favor?) For her genuineness; I don’t think I’ve met someone more genuine. For her confidence and independence, which impressed me more with each passing day. For the way she talked to me and made me feel. For being my sister, for loving me and for letting me love her. For hopefully letting me show her (and believing) how important she is to me and what she means to me. For forgiving me for maybe not showing her sooner.

Because really, my world changed a little since having her here. I realized that estoy enamorada de mi familia.