San Salvador is a rather ugly city covered in black diesel and petrol fumes, so grimy and sooty that not even torrential tropical rains and earthquakes can shake off grime. Imagine a city that experienced an American commercial boom on a limited budget through the 90s paired with the effects of an incompetent government whose primary interests since the end of the civil war have been to maximize personal economic gains - the impact this has had on the city's infrastructure and public mentality. This is our capital city. A materialistic commercial whorehouse with bad roads, bad traffic and terrible drivers. It is a monster that is slowly but powerfully expanding, engulfing our beautiful Quetzaltepec, completely disregarding and stomping all over its natural beauty and biodiversity.
The trouble is that my grandmother's house is a little oasis at center of it all. Up until recently this area was mostly a residential zone, with steep meandering roads and overhanging trees and bushes. I am told that at one point it was even possible to walk across fields and monte all the way to the mouth of the volcano. But this was way before my time. Today, it is a web of pot-holed roads, offices, and congested traffic, but sitting in my grandmother's garden it is easy to filter out the chaos and focus on the colorful vegetation and exotic fruits and flowers. It is a garden that has remained virtually unchanged over the past 25 years, with the same white, iron-lace garden furniture, strategically positioned and permanently discolored stone cranes and an impeccably kept array of tall wild orchids, hanging orchids, geraniums, flowers of paradise, galan de noche, and countless other flowers I don't know the names of. So when I venture out from my personal Garden of Eden for the daily errand run it becomes particularly frustrating when I find myself stuck in a knot of black-fumed traffic.
My grandmother at one point while driving, looked at me and asked, "Como ves San Salvador?". "Sucio". Polluted like no other. I'm probably experiencing a type of culture shock, which I suppose is understandable but difficult to accept. At least winter is round the corner which means lots of tropical thunderstorms and earthquakes which means cleaner air and rivers and hopefully more environmentally-friendly, political decisions due to seasonal fears. That and I will be completely distracted by the excitement of thunderstorms, earthquakes and the numerous new streams and mini-waterfalls.
The trouble is that my grandmother's house is a little oasis at center of it all. Up until recently this area was mostly a residential zone, with steep meandering roads and overhanging trees and bushes. I am told that at one point it was even possible to walk across fields and monte all the way to the mouth of the volcano. But this was way before my time. Today, it is a web of pot-holed roads, offices, and congested traffic, but sitting in my grandmother's garden it is easy to filter out the chaos and focus on the colorful vegetation and exotic fruits and flowers. It is a garden that has remained virtually unchanged over the past 25 years, with the same white, iron-lace garden furniture, strategically positioned and permanently discolored stone cranes and an impeccably kept array of tall wild orchids, hanging orchids, geraniums, flowers of paradise, galan de noche, and countless other flowers I don't know the names of. So when I venture out from my personal Garden of Eden for the daily errand run it becomes particularly frustrating when I find myself stuck in a knot of black-fumed traffic.
My grandmother at one point while driving, looked at me and asked, "Como ves San Salvador?". "Sucio". Polluted like no other. I'm probably experiencing a type of culture shock, which I suppose is understandable but difficult to accept. At least winter is round the corner which means lots of tropical thunderstorms and earthquakes which means cleaner air and rivers and hopefully more environmentally-friendly, political decisions due to seasonal fears. That and I will be completely distracted by the excitement of thunderstorms, earthquakes and the numerous new streams and mini-waterfalls.
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