Beach weekend! Ok, well, beach day

We had it all planned out: the timing, the driver, the accommodation... and then nothing happened as planned, obviously.

We wanted to go to the beach.

With Rosie in the States attending AGMs for her NGO, nobody living in 292 Calle Estalmoco was both willing and able to drive her car to the beach. Let me tell you a little about Rosie's car. His name is Pitufo (Smurf). He is a tiny, dark blue hatchback of uncertain origin. His age is undetermined. If you light a match near him when his engine is running I won't vouch for your safety. He is held together with duct tape, promises, and Rosie's love.

Fredy was willing to drive Pitufo to the beach, but unable to do so because he doesn't have a full license yet. I was able to drive Pitufo, but definitely not willing to (a) work his rickety clutch, especially given that, (b) everyone in El Salvador drives as fast the French on roads as twisty as Roger's Pass through the Rocky Mountains. Luckily everyone loves the beach, and Rosie's friend Marion was more than willing to drive us down there. Driver: check.

Fredy had called some friends of his, a lovely couple named Rene and Sandra who have a beach house on playa San Blas about an hour south of San Salvador, and they graciously agreed to spend the weekend at the beach and allow us to join them. We were going to head out Saturday afternoon at 2, get there around 3:30, and have most of the afternoon and evening at the beach and all of the next day. Accommodation: check. Itinerary: check.

On Saturday morning Fredy took Leah and I to see the church where Monsenor Romero was shot in 1980, the event which catalyzed El Salvador's civil war. It was moving, and I think it deserves its own blog post so I'll write another one later. As we were leaving the church, Fredy got a call from Rene and Sandra saying that some small nephew had broken a bone and was in the hospital. It wasn't serious, so they didn't cancel the beach trip, but they needed to spend most of the afternoon by his bedside in order to fulfill family obligations. Our departure time was pushed back to 7pm.

The hours in between were filled with an impromptu guitar lesson and Beatles sing-along. I think we probably sang for two hours. At 6 o'clock Rene called to say they had left the hospital early and were coming over right away! Seven o'clock came and went, and there was no sign of Rene and Sandra. Marion drove us to the grocery store to get food. At 7:30 we finally got a hold of them. Apparently their cousin had decided to join us and they had gone to get her swimsuit. They arrived at 8:45, apologizing for having made us wait. They really are nice people, they just have a small punctuality problem. 

Any residual annoyance was forgotten when we got to their adorable beach house. A small swimming pool sat surrounded by palms and banana trees, complete with a table built into the water. The house was spacious and airy, with an outdoor kitchen and a hammock. It was a five minute walk from the beach.

Sunday morning was hot and sunny with clear blue skies. The mosquitoes were so vicious that we spent most of the morning submerged, hippo-like, in the pool. We emerged for food and then went straight back into the water. After lunch we went to the beach. I thought it was beautiful, and apparently it's not even the nicest beach in El Salvador. For the surfers out there, it has one of the best right-point breaks in the world. Don't ask me what that means, I don't know. What I do know is that the rip tides were strong and the waves were big! Each one crashed in a perfect arc and we spent hours jumping over them and diving under them. Small boys were doing tricks on surfboards that I could only dream of. The beach itself is partly black sand because El Salvador has so many active volcanoes. It also has a lot of flesh-coloured driftwood. For one horrible moment, I thought that a log was a naked fat man half buried in sand.

Not this log; another one

Fredy and Leah

Me and Leah

Daredevil children

We went back to the house and decided that the weekend wouldn't be complete unless we got pina coladas. Rene and Sandra's beach house is part of a gated community with a fancy club house that makes a mean pina colada for $3.50. Rene and Sandra came with us to let us into the club and we all drank on the terrace by the beach as the waves rolled in. 

Up to this point my sunscreen had worked great, but my luck ran out around 4pm. I didn't reapply because in Canada, after 4pm is the safe time for the melanin-less freaks that walk among you. There is no safe time in El Salvador, apparently. I managed to get a burn that looked like a racing stripe up the front of each thigh, and another one on my stomach that starts so high it looks like I was wearing granny panties (I wasn't, I swear). That one is also mottled because I had drops of seawater all over me. I took pictures of everything on this trip, but not that. I will leave it to your imagination.

We left around 6:30pm to avoid the traffic on the highway back to San Salvador. Dark was falling and a full moon hung low over the misty jungle canyons as the highway wended its way along the mountain side. It was a really beautiful beach day.