El Salvador, May 2008, San Salvador y Parque Cuscatlan

Playa Tunco is the banana smoothie of surf towns. Delicious and soothing if day after day is spent frying in the sun and exhausting oneself in the surf. However, with no surf for me today – I´m craving something a tad spicier than banana smoothie.

Besides, if I´m not going to get my surf stoke today – I´d prefer to get away from the non-stop multi-cultural brobonics-fest that occurs here 24/7. Tunco is a lot like Huntington Beach before it became “gentrified” – nothing but surf shops, dive bars and head shops. It´s only interesting for a couple days unless you´re surfing or high (or both). The tourist women? They were only here for the “beach party”. Nothing but a sausage-fest here now.

I´m on a cultural mission today. Destination: San Salvador

Secondary mission: Find the return bus to La Libertad.

In San Salvador, route 102 has differing beginning-line and end-of-line locations. They are downtown somewhere, they change year to year, and the guidebook recommends not walking around these locations after dark (and caution during the daylight).

San Salvador is a lot like Los Angeles. Same bad traffic. Same sprawling layout that was created with no thought towards future planning. Same possibility of walking from a ritzy neighborhood to a blighted one in four blocks.

On the 8am bus to La Libertad (10-15 minutes, $0.30), on the next bus leaving for San Salvador (1 hour, departs every 5 minutes, $0.66). Watch the vendors board and try to sell just about everything to the commuters. Hmmm – maybe a future article.

Arriving in San Salvador – in a new location than last year – I try to orient myself. It´s best not to look lost or linger in designated non-lingering areas – so I hail a cab. Most gringos, when arriving in San Salvador for the first time – head to MetroCentro – and some never find their way out. The Metrocentro is one of the world´s largest malls. It´s not a specifically-designed space-efficient structure – instead it´s sprawled helter-skelter with many strange wings and floors. Most stores have multiple locations here.

The last thing I want to do is shop in a mall – but it does have everything in close proximity: ATM´s, bathrooms, strong coffee, Pollo Campero, and a comfortable place to sit and pull out the map. Added bonus – it´s a major stop for city buses, and cabs are everywhere.

I could use a masaje (MEH-DEE-CEE-NAL), but I would really like to see some culture on this day-trip.

Parque Cuscatlan looks like it´s only five or so blocks away, it´s on the way to downtown, it boasts a prime art gallery, and a monument to their fallen from their war-torn 80´s. The guidebook sings it praises, but warns carrying anything around (or doing anything to call attention to yourself). Great photo opportunities, but you probably do not want to show a camera.

It´s a little before noon, and how bad could it be? Theives and junkies, as a rule, don´t follow the adage, “The early bird gets the worm”.

The walk from Metrocentro to Parque Cuscatlan is… interesting.

It takes only one block before the neighborhood looks graffitti-covered, barbed-wire-and-broken-glass on the fences, and not so great in a general sort of way. After two blocks, things really begin to look blighted. A young man, early twenties, is squatting on the sidewalk, dressed in old jackets, shaking and sweating. His eyes go from my shoulder bag to both my front pockets – trying to guess the contents of the bulges (wallet with fresh cash supply and camera). He never looks at my face.

Others look more desparate. Perhaps it´s worth the $2 to spring for a cab? I straighten my posture and walk with a purpose – a swagger even. Not the neighborhood to impersonate the weak gazelle.

Every block gets worse. Abandonded houses with broken-out windows turn to abandoned warehouses with broken-out windows, with grafitti and refuse eveywhere.

I see a military man with a machine gun. Usually, when traveling in Mexico, I feel much more nervous around these guys. In El Salvador – I feel relief. This man is guarding the sidewalk leading to the intersection where Parque Cuscatlan begins.

After that, Parque Cuscatlan truly appears as an oasis. It sits below street level, surrounded by embankments topped with walls (and discretely placed barbed wire). Once inside the walls (four entry points), stairs lead down to the grass and paths and many shade trees. I discretely take some pictures… it appears safe here.

Street-vendors are set up many places, and smells of deep-fried deliciosness lightly fill the area. I count three casual futbol games, and most of the benches are filled with couples of various ages and states of groping (not necessarily correlated). All four entrances become paths which lead to the center of the park, where colorful tropical foliage resides.

The park feels tranquil, especially when juxtaposed with the chaos and decay just outside the walls.

On the western half of the northern wall is Monumento a la Memoria y la Verdad - Monument to the Memory and the Truth. It reminds me of the Vietnam Memorial wall. In this case, the names of those who died during the civil war of the 1980´s are inscribed.

The Art Gallery is impressive in the works contained within. The works were modern, and the central themes seemed to be sex, death and gods. The quality is outstanding, and the images wake up the Lizard Brain which bites the Monkey Brain and both start smacking the Human Brain upside the head. El Salvador – with it´s heat, humidity, rain, lush growth and fertility, and smells of growth and decay inscribe something into the gray matter – and the art in this building does a tremendous job of capturing that essence.

I lost track of time in there, my three brains trying to communicate together and make sense of it. Definitely something to see. I even managed to find the bus stop to get back to La Libertad.

A Change in Climate)