Poco a poco, our trip to El Salvador is coming together, although we have come up against a few obstacles.
First step, passports. Carlos needed an American passport, our oldest son was an infant in his expired passport photo, and our youngest had never owned one. (Mine also needed to be renewed.) At the passport office, the clerk was very friendly but she regretted to inform us that Carlos’s official Salvadoran birth certificate and official translation, didn’t meet their strict identification requirements. “We need one with a raised seal,” she said, running her finger across the flat piece of paper.
I laughed out loud. This certificate is his real birth certificate, not a copy. Good luck getting the government of El Salvador to send you another one designed to their specifications. (George Lopez voice: “Raised seal! ‘Ta loca, raised seal!”)
I pulled out Carlos’s Naturalization Certificate and the clerk agreed that this would work – pero – she wanted the original. Anyone who has gotten their papers knows that the Naturalization Certificate is something you guard with your life – they cost hundreds of dollars to replace – but we didn’t have a choice. We handed it over and she promised that once they were done processing the passport, they would send it back to us.
That was a few weeks ago and thankfully we’ve received three passports and Carlos’s certificate back in the mail. (My passport is still processing.)
Final cost of passports, almost $500. Ouch.
There was no way to cut costs on passports, but we thought maybe we could on luggage. My parents generously agreed to let us borrow some of their suitcases but they’re going to the beach two weeks before we plan to go to El Salvador, (which means I won’t be able to pack early as I like to do.) Another problem? My parents wrote their surname in big block letters across the front of each suitcase. Walking around El Salvador with an Anglo name scrawled on our bags will make us (okay, me), look even more conspicuous than I already am. I kind of don’t want to look like a tourist, if that’s even possible. My plan for blending in is:
#1. Speak Caliche
#2. Wear sunglasses (Carlos says my blue eyes will give me away)
#3. Avoid sunburn
#4. Don’t walk around with an Anglo name scrawled on my luggage
(If you have any other ideas, let me know.)
Anyway, determined not to buy new suitcases, we went to Goodwill. Their vast selection included a steamer trunk ala Titanic, (or “pirate box” as the boys called it), and a handful of smaller bags.
In the end, we bought suitcases. Hopefully that means we’ll officially be traveling more.
The funny thing about buying the suitcases was that when we entered the luggage section of K-Mart where we ended up buying them, there was a guy who looked to be Latino in the aisle. He was wearing a fishing hat and clothes that suggested he might work in landscaping. (He also had side burns that would make Elvis jealous.) At first he said nothing to us – just kept pulling down suitcases, inspecting them, comparing them, and then putting them back.
I spoke to Carlos in Spanish, maybe a little louder than usual because I can be a show-off like that. The guy didn’t even look up. I tried again. Nothing. I shrugged and decided maybe he was Filipino or deaf. Then he cleared his throat and asked Carlos, “Vas en viaje, eh?”
“Sí, pero están bien caras las maletas, man,” Carlos said.
“Sí, muy caras,” the man said, inspecting a price tag.
They were quiet for a moment and then the guy spoke again, “Y a dónde vas?…Guatemala?”
“Cerca,” Carlos answered, “un poco más al sur. El Salvador,” Carlos said, eyeing the not deaf, not Filipino guy.
“Oh, disculpa. espero que no te insulté,” he said laughing.
“No, man. De ningún modo,” Carlos said, before asking, “y usted es de Guatemala?”
“No, de El Salvador también…”
I watched the conversation, noting how neither Carlos or the guy used the Salvadoran “vos” – The guy didn’t make eye contact with me, even when I asked if he wanted my older son to help him reach something on a high shelf. (My oldest son is taller than both Carlos and this guy.)
It was a strange encounter. What are the chances of two Salvadorans buying luggage in the same place at the same time? (Or one Salvadoran and one Guatemalan pretending to be Salvadoran? I’m not totally sure.)
Tickets were our next challenge. After sweating over the rising prices we kept finding online, Carlos finally called the travel agent. I don’t know how she was able to do it, but she got us direct flights on TACA at the price and dates that we wanted.
We now have three weeks to get it together and aren’t nearly ready. I’m relieved that passports, luggage and tickets are taken care of, but our last and greatest challenge still awaits.
Suegra is coming with us.