We were barely three steps off our plane when we saw a uniformed, badged member of the embassy’s staff holding a sign with our names on it. He helped us carry our gear through the airport and led us through customs and immigration. We still had to go through the usual passport checks and luggage inspections (sleeping on the couch of a diplomat is not the same thing as being a diplomat), but is was very nice to have a local guide helping us through the process.
Once we cleared the inspections, the guide asked us to wait at the front entrance while he pulled our vehicle around. And when we saw the brand new, deeply tinted, freshly waxed 15 passenger van, we knew that it had to be our ride. I guess you're allowed to be be a bit more ostentatious when your vehicle has diplomatic license plates and you have a detachment of US Marines on speed dial.
The driver waved us in the van and helped us load our luggage while I installed the kids’ car seats. Bringing two car seats on an international trip is no trivial decision, but we knew that we'd be taking quite a few car trips and figured it would be worth lugging them along. Plus this is Central America.
It took about an hour to traverse the streets of El Salvador’s capital to get to Cicely’s house. We saw the familiar sights of roadside produce vendors, overstuffed city busses, and lush tropical plants. We also saw a heavily armed security guard in front of a neighborhood pharmacy. Because, again, the is Central America.
But despite the striking amount of light artillery on the streets, we immediately felt at ease. It was obvious that El Salvador was cleaner, safer, and more developed than its reputation suggests. And that initial impression only grew stronger as we approached Cicely’s house in one of the nicer parts of town.
After we passed through yet more armed security at the entrance to our friends' neighborhood, we saw a handpainted “Welcome” sign created by Cicely’s 5 and 7 year olds. It was a charming contrast to the solid steel security doors, CCTV cameras, barbed wire, and 10-foot high exterior walls mandated for US Embassy staff living in the city.
After lots of hugs and children introductions, we toured the near-villa that our friends were living in. The 4 bedroom house (not counting the servant’s quarters) opened up to a huge patio and a lush backdoor garden with avocados, bananas, pineapples, and plenty of other plants clearly thriving in the tropical conditions.
Of course, most of that was lost on our kids, who made a beeline for the play kitchen, oversized puzzles, and Dr. Seuss books reassuring them that this vacation was for them, too.
The entire afternoon was delightful. We hung out on the back porch drinking El Salvadoran beer while our kids played in the shade of an avocado tree. This place is quite literally paradise.
At one point, the back window rattled, and Cicely wondered out loud if that was an earthquake or just the wind. “We get a lot of terremotos out here,” she said. Thankfully, just wind today. But it was a good reminder that this place isn’t entirely just oversized houses and tropical produce. It didn't stop me from continuing to internally write a resignation letter to my current place of employment, but at least it stopped me from sending it. For now.
For dinner, we ordered pupusas from a tiny restaurant down the street. For the uninitiated like myself, Pupusas are the unofficial (possibly official?) food of El Salvador that are essentially a cheese tamale pressed down to the thickness of a quesadilla and topped with cabbage and chili sauce. Yes, they are as incredible as they sound, and I way overdid it.
Mimi settled in to her embassy-delivered crib as the sun went down, while Quinn slept in a makeshift bassinet made out of a handful of beach towels. It took Mimi an extra hour to unwind from the toddler wonderland we had just brought her to, but eventually settled down for a great night of sleep. The adults stayed up for some more back porch stories about Cicely and Donyel's enchanting expat life, while Aimee and I half-joked (well, quarter-joked, maybe one eighth-joked) about having to make some major career decisions this week.
