Atiquizaya y Antigua
On December 4th, 2024, I returned to my mother's beautiful home country of El Salvador- the last time I visited was in 2002. My gut told me I had an incredible adventure waiting for me…
My journey began with a three day stay in San Salvador, the capital and El Salvador’s largest city
One way (and perhaps the best way) I can describe my return to the motherland is as a rush of emotions…
Anxiety
I flew into Miami on December 3rd and stayed the night. I woke up bright and early on December 4th, ready for the short flight into El Salvador. The nervous excitement I felt was not unlike the butterflies one feels in the first stages of falling in love.
Normally I would start my morning with a cup of coffee, but I wanted my next caffeination to be Salvadoran.
The Anxiety stage was the first one but it was also the most brief.
At the artisanal colony in Concepción de Ataco, along La Ruta de las Flores
Awe
My first night in El Salvador, one of my cousins met me at my hotel and insisted I join her family for her mother’s birthday dinner. When she hopped out of the car, my jaw hit the floor: she looked exactly like my little sister! A couple of days later, my mother's cousin picked me up to personally take me to their hometown, a two hour drive. No one ever allowed me to pay for anything, but over and over again different members of my family would remind me: Eric, now you know that you have a family here that loves you and cares about you.
My mom has always been very humble. She never brags about her family. As a matter of fact, she didn't share much at all about the empire her parents built with little more than the shirts on their backs. This made the welcome I received in Atiquizaya incredibly special. One of the first things my Tia showed me when I arrived in town was the cornerstone in the town church listing my Abuelita as one of the people who funded the church’s reconstruction (see below). Then we went to visit the other Tias. No calling ahead of time. It was perfectly fine to just walk over and knock on the door.
One of my Tia’s was so excited to see me that I thought she was going to fall over and hurt herself. Later on I discovered that she is only surviving sister of the original five (including my Abuelita Dorita).
With the Tia’s
Gratitude
By this time, my heart was singing. I had never received such a grand welcome before.
My mother has always carried herself with a specific class and grace- I’ll admit, at times during my childhood, it angered me when she wouldn’t defend herself in a manner I felt sufficient, but now I understood why.
I am told that my Abuelito was fiercely protective of his reputation- he believed it was one of the only things over which you had complete control. Years later I am reaping the rewards of his hard work.
I was so happy and I wanted the entire world to know. How did I get so lucky to be a part of this incredible culture and tradition? What did I do to deserve to be born into such an honorable bloodline?
I truly found myself falling in love with the Salvadoran people.
Now, more than ever, I feel an obligation to do right by my ancestors- to build on and fiercely protect the legacy and vision they left me.
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I recorded a mini-travel vlog for this trip on YouTube that you can view here
My Abuelita, Dora de Medina, being recognized for funding the church’s reconstruction in 1974
Sorrow
There were three times that I found myself unable to contain my tears. The first time was when I was getting ready to board the plane to San Salvador from Miami. I am a sensitive person and I’ll admit sometimes I get in my feelings too much. This was a big deal. I wanted to feel every single inch of this trip.
The second time I shed tears was when I visited my family’s plot at the town cemetery. This visit (along with the visit to my mom’s childhood home) was one of the two goals that I had for my time in the pueblo. My Tias took me after breakfast one morning. I won’t say much more since this part is a little personal, but my Tias were ready with the tissues. They allowed me some time to mourn, but before we left, I remember them reassuring me: don’t think that we don’t also share your pain.
The third and final time I cried was when I had to leave my family when I boarded the bus that would take me from Santa Ana, El Salvador, across the border into Guatemala City. Leaving my family was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. If it were up to me I would have stayed with them at least another week. When I began to get frustrated that I couldn’t control my emotions, I left the bus stop to go for a short walk. When I returned, a lady who had been watching me came over to reassure me that everything was going to be okay.
Joy
My last night with my family was the procession of the Virgin Mary, which passed directly in front of my Tia’s home and ended at the town church. This was the event that my cousins wanted me not to miss- afterwards there was a concert with the Hermanos Flores, one of the best musical groups in El Salvador.
I promise you not a single other thing on Planet Earth mattered more than watching that procession enter the beautifully decorated church in Atiquizaya, Ahuachapan, El Salvador (watch it above). This was the moment that I realized that I missed out on a large part of my culture by not being raised Catholic. I believe this was the first time I came to understand the reverence for the Virgin Mary, one that I was not raised with (more about that later).
I think this was the same night I purchased a chain (I was later informed it is in the Cuban-links style) at the nighttime market for all of seven dollars.
It has become one of the most precious things I own.
After we returned from the church, I had a frank and open discussion with my family about Catholicism. I told them that this was the first time I understood that the reference for the Virgin Mary was symbolic of the relationship a mother has with her child, and I thought that was one of the most beautiful things in the world. My family said that Mary intercedes for you and made it very clear that the Catholicism that they practiced in Latin America was very different from European Catholicism.
My heart sang with joy because I felt like this experience brought me closer to my family and my culture.
With my primo Charlie and the Queen of Tourism
Anger
This came as a surprise, I'll admit. I can't pinpoint the exact moment when the anger spilled over (sometime during the procession) because it was accompanied by larger amounts of joy and awe, but this anger had been brewing for some time.
One of the questions I asked anyone who was willing to lend me their ear (including my Uber drivers and of course plenty of my family members) was: what is the difference between us, as Latinos, and the Palestinians?
How DARE American imperialism deny the humanity of my people, resulting in one of the largest abuses of human rights in the last fifty years?
Where on EARTH do we get off obsessing about 1776, and being able to trace your ancestry to The Mayflower, as though other countries don't have unique histories going just as far back if not further than the European countries we call the “Old World”?
And finally: what if there had never been a civil war? What if the currency had never changed to American dollars? What if seventy-five thousand innocent people hadn’t been killed by the same people funding the slaughter of the indigenous people of Palestine?! Would I have had the opportunity to meet my Abuelito? Would he have made it to San Francisco, as was always his dream? Would my parents have ever met to create me and my siblings?
It was a very interesting experience watching the procession pass by my Tia’s house while trying to contain my fuming anger.
The Church of St Francis, Antigua, Guatemala
Appreciation
Sightseeing, exploring, and relaxing: this described the bulk of my time in Antigua, Guatemala. I needed some time to process my time in El Salvador. On my last day in town (I would be heading to the airport in Guatemala City the following morning) I took a tour at a coffee plantation.
This was when the trip truly came full circle. My Abuelito and Abuelita were coffee entrepreneurs. Coffee paid for my family’s immigration to San Francisco right as the civil war was breaking out.
Alejandro is a third generation coffee grower who was accompanied by a translator named Luis. There were only me and two other guests, but because I asked so many questions I felt obligated to help Luis with the translating.
The tour began with a short walk from Alejandro’s home to his family’s plot. Along the way he pointed out how the plots were separated by yucca plants. The coffee plants were rotated with sweet potato and sugar cane- a practice passed down from the Indigenous people of Guatemala.
Not only did we each get an opportunity to pick some coffee berries, when we returned to Alejandro’s house, we roasted the beans, ground them, and then finally we seeped them in hot water and drank a delicious medium-blend coffee!
To top it all off, Alejandro’s wife cooked us lunch! And then they gave each of us a bag of coffee!
I left Alejandro's home feeling a great deal of appreciation for the beautiful, one-of-a-kind time he shared with us. It was an experience I will never forget or take for granted; I keep a photo of Alejandro at my desk and say a prayer for him and his family at least once a day.
Picking ripe coffee berries!
Satisfaction
You know the feeling of eating a delicious meal?
When you are standing on the fine line between full and stuffed?
Like when you eat pupusas, smothered in guacamole and garnished with a savory beet-based salsa (Guatemalan-style, as I came to find out).
That is the best way I know how to describe my last day in Central America; an experience that nurtured my soul and all of my senses.
I will be counting down the days until I return.
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The sunset view from El Cerro de las Cruces, Antigua, Guatemala. Indeed, that is a volcano on the border with El Salvador
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I can't wait to return to Central America! Next time I will definitely be bringing a few folks back with me. If you would like to join a future group to El Salvador and Guatemala, fill out my tourism request form here