My time in El Salvador was at least 60% dedicated to transcribing. I didn't mind taking time to do the work because it was something that would be really difficult to do with people I know & miss & love back in Spokane & Phoenix; not like there was much to see where I was, though. My workstation was quite simple.
Just as the guidebook says, La Libertad is nothing more than a supplies depot, a passerby hub where the white travelers fill up on food, booze & drugs to bring them back to the fancy beach resorts dispersed along the highway for a good 15km. They know you have money, they know how much a dollar means to you, they know you are out of your element; what they didn't know about me was that I wasn't one of the rich surfers bros staying at the $60/night hotels. I spent less than $13/day on average there & was just trying to see their home, jump in to their way of things, maintain & distribute some positive vibes...
In any case, the people seemed to have some sort of chip on their shoulder & were no stranger to staring wide-eyed or getting up & walking behind you after you pass.
My hostel was on Playa Sunzal. Outside cold showers, caged kitchen, plywood cot beds, power outages, and frogs everywhere. Even though I was excited to get somewhere that was really raw for once, I was just as happy to leave. When I first got there, it was as if the place had been abandoned. The lights were on, two of the room doors opened, cigs were smoken & the kitchen with food scattered about. I looked for everyone for a good half hour, then put my stuff under an empty bed & waited in the hammock for anyone to come. I finally just ended up going to sleep in the that eery place, not knowing if it was out of business, the two thrashers & the Canadian come home from a death metal show. I came out, said hi & made my presence known, then went back to snoozin while they wailed on.
The beach was a 200m walk down a muddy path to a beach mostly covered in rocks. The waves seemed to be constantly approaching from left & right, spewing out this awkwardly rattled heap of water that a surprisingly good number of surfers tried to ride. All of the people in the hostel surfed everyday, took naps & read in the day, then got shit drunk & made these protein-packed megameals in the evenings; pretty rad for some surfer bros, now that I think about it. Two of them were metalheads with tatoos, piercings, beards of korn & a 1/2g of rum of night, which made me tweet this...
I don't have many pictures (but the whole set is here), as I didn't even realize I had my iPhone to take pictures with until the 2nd to last day of my week there; nor did I have many experiences because I was transcribing or reading quite a bit.
As for the transcriptions, the women from both countries in the role plays are giving literally the same advice, but the directness in which the Nicaraguan & Panamian females are delivering it (to their best friend) is quite different. There seems to be a sense of formality in Panamá, and a more direct & in-your-face way of going about it in Nicaragua. Well, I guess we'll see soon enough...
Just as the guidebook says, La Libertad is nothing more than a supplies depot, a passerby hub where the white travelers fill up on food, booze & drugs to bring them back to the fancy beach resorts dispersed along the highway for a good 15km. They know you have money, they know how much a dollar means to you, they know you are out of your element; what they didn't know about me was that I wasn't one of the rich surfers bros staying at the $60/night hotels. I spent less than $13/day on average there & was just trying to see their home, jump in to their way of things, maintain & distribute some positive vibes...
In any case, the people seemed to have some sort of chip on their shoulder & were no stranger to staring wide-eyed or getting up & walking behind you after you pass.
"the level of poverty has certainly jumped up a notch here. everyone staring, then when i walk by, they start walking behind me (tweet) ...
i then stop, see wut they do. some stop too & just stare at me, others keep walkin, tryin to keep their cool. it´s weird, dunno wut 2 think." tweetThat great split between the tourist & local population took a bad turn somewhere in the past, or maybe the cultural ice just hasn't been broken, or politics lies in the way... who knows, it just sucks. I went to town once a day and, perhaps in an effort to overcome my negative mindset having recently broken my camera, convinced myself that I was glad I didn't have a camera. It was shady for me, and other hostel dwellers shared the same feelings everyday.
My hostel was on Playa Sunzal. Outside cold showers, caged kitchen, plywood cot beds, power outages, and frogs everywhere. Even though I was excited to get somewhere that was really raw for once, I was just as happy to leave. When I first got there, it was as if the place had been abandoned. The lights were on, two of the room doors opened, cigs were smoken & the kitchen with food scattered about. I looked for everyone for a good half hour, then put my stuff under an empty bed & waited in the hammock for anyone to come. I finally just ended up going to sleep in the that eery place, not knowing if it was out of business, the two thrashers & the Canadian come home from a death metal show. I came out, said hi & made my presence known, then went back to snoozin while they wailed on.
The beach was a 200m walk down a muddy path to a beach mostly covered in rocks. The waves seemed to be constantly approaching from left & right, spewing out this awkwardly rattled heap of water that a surprisingly good number of surfers tried to ride. All of the people in the hostel surfed everyday, took naps & read in the day, then got shit drunk & made these protein-packed megameals in the evenings; pretty rad for some surfer bros, now that I think about it. Two of them were metalheads with tatoos, piercings, beards of korn & a 1/2g of rum of night, which made me tweet this...
¨Ah, well, before you go (to heaven), why don't you get your ass down to the corner and get us another bottle of ripple!!¨ -Lt. Dan, tweet, another was from Alberta, and the only girl was from Santa Cruz.
I don't have many pictures (but the whole set is here), as I didn't even realize I had my iPhone to take pictures with until the 2nd to last day of my week there; nor did I have many experiences because I was transcribing or reading quite a bit.
As for the transcriptions, the women from both countries in the role plays are giving literally the same advice, but the directness in which the Nicaraguan & Panamian females are delivering it (to their best friend) is quite different. There seems to be a sense of formality in Panamá, and a more direct & in-your-face way of going about it in Nicaragua. Well, I guess we'll see soon enough...
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