Steady rain all yesterday kept me away from the village for much of the day, but by this morning it had stopped and left behind a thick foggy mist covering the surrounding mountains.
I caught a ride in the back of a pickup--the village is a steep quarter mile trudge up the hill from Perkin Lenca--and arrived at the Salvadoran Revolution Museum early.
Inside are photos, posters, news clippings and many artifacts from the rebels' side of the brutal conflict that ravaged the nation from the late 1970s until the early 1990s. A highlight for me was the various maps of the conflict including one that showed the extent of FMLN territorial control. Other maps included hand drawn ones of combat operations planned against government forces.
Artifacts include weapons, communications equipment, medical supplies, diaries and personal effects of fighters and their leaders. Though most of the accompanying explanatory texts are in Spanish, the visitor gets a good overall picture of the history of the war from about 1975 until a U.N. brokered peace was established in 1992.
Outside the museum are remnants of American made aircraft which crashed in the area or were shot down. Perquin was the center of a very large area of the department of Morazan which was under rebel control for much of the conflict, so it was also a major target for government air raids and bombings.
The guerrilla camp features much evidence of those raids including shrapnel stuck deep in trees, unexploded (deactivated) ordnance, and bomb craters. Like the Viet Cong before them, the FMLN fighters built tunnels to shelter them from those raids.
The rebel camp also had a display of the party's clandestine radio station Radio Venceremos and a photo of the captured vice minister of defense being interviewed by rebel journalists.
After a day or two up here the visitor gets a good sense of how and why the rebels were able to control this area for so long. This is high, remote, heavily forested country, and though the main road is now paved, everything off the main road is dirt (or mud, as it is now). Is it any wonder that a weak central government, unable to outright defeat the rebels, sought material assistance in the form of aircraft and airborne bombs from the Reagan administration?
Although there wasn't truly an FMLN "revolution" in El Salvador in the strictest sense, I think it's pretty amazing what did, in fact, take place. The FMLN and ARENA--the main government party--eventually came to an accomodation with each other, and since 1992 the FMLN has been an active participant in the political process here. To me that seems a fair outcome after a war which obviously couldn't be won by either side--even with American assistance for one of the parties.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Why Not Travel With Fiddle in Central America?
Now that I've arrived in a place that's crying out for some good oldtime fiddle music, it seems the ideal time to address the issue of travel with musical instruments, or in my case, why I haven't traveled with my violin on these recent trips to Central America.
Since we were kids in a growing "Suzuki violin family" I had always traveled with my instrument, whether to Disney World or on other family road trips, but especially to Grandma and Grandpa's. Our parents felt it was important for us to play impromptu concerts for our relatives and friends, but we also had a fairly strict rule in our family: we had to practice every day, even on family vacations, as Shinich Suzuki always urged Suzuki families to do.
As a young adult my fiddle became both my "passport and bank account" as I used my musical skills to earn money for travel, eventually becoming a globetrotting busker in 1980s Western Europe and 1990s Southeast and Northeast Asia.
My instrument and the music I played weren't only a means of earning a living, but also served as a great way to meet people of all stripes--especially other musicans and other buskers who traveled along the same routes that I did. This was a great advantage to me in my globetrotting as well as in life in general. My fiddle has taken me inside many situations which never could have happened without the very fact that I was a working musician, and mostly outside my home element in the United States.
These are some of the reasons I have always traveled with my instrument. But now that I've become a teacher, it's been possible for me to join a world of the ordinary tourist. I think of it as a type of "accidental tourism," to qoute from the novel and movie of that title, because in doing so I felt way outside of my usual element.
When I first started traveling in Latin America in the late 1990s and early 2000s with a couple trips to Mexico, I continued to take my instrument along even if I didn't use it very much. Colonial cities such as Guanajuato or San Luis Potosi were made for the itinerant musician, but I didn't do any busking there, preferring instead to hear Mexican groups in the streets and plazas of those cities.
When I returned to Thailand for visits in 2005 and 2006 I continued to bring the instrument because many of my friends there are musicians and it was always possible to sit in and jam with them while they worked. And on my 2007 visit part of my purpose there was to record some 22 fiddle tunes which I did with a couple collaborators on guitar.
So why not travel with the instrument now? Really it comes down to a couple logistical issues, starting with post-9/11 hassles and airline baggage restrictions. For a time in the mid-2000s musicians all over America were complaining that the airlines were, in some cases, forcing them to check their instruments in the cargo hold. Though that era seems thankfully to have passed, more recently the airlines have become very strict about the size and number of carry on bags they allow, and they charge about $25 for each bag over that they require you to check in.
Secondly, my first two trips to Central America in 2008 and 2009 were only two weeks in length. Because of some uncertainty regarding the difficulties of bus travel in the region, and since I anticipated that I wouldn't use my instrument very much--if at all-- I decided then to leave the violin home and travel only with a small backpack and a day bag. This turned out to be the most convenient way to get around, but especially on the airlines and on some of the notorious "chicken" buses (they just keep packing them in like Colonel Sanders) in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and neighboring countries. I have to admit that questions of security also weighed heavily in my mind: would I lose my instrument to forgetfulness (a life-long nightmare of mine)? Even worse, would I lose it to theft? It didn't seem to be worth the risk for trips of such short duration. Yet I also must admit that I felt very strange traveling without my fiddle on those two occasions.
What about this trip now, which is seven weeks long? Well, I'm still dealing with the issues outlined above, but a major difference now is I'm taking a lot more time with this journey, so now the question has reasserted itself. And with my arrival in Perquin, it seems a shame that I won't be able to get to know the villagers and their children by offering up some fine impromptu fiddle music for their entertainment and enjoyment. Music has always been a cross cultural way to break the ice and form some connection with strangers. And that I'm not doing so on this trip is indeed a bit disconcerting for me.
This question certainly will pop up again whenever I decided to take more than a week or two in a given region. I would like to find a way to travel again with a backpack, a day bag, and an instrument, but for the moment I'm glad I don't have to worry about an expensive violin, and how I'm going to transport it safely on the next crowded, rattletrap of a bus I board.
Since we were kids in a growing "Suzuki violin family" I had always traveled with my instrument, whether to Disney World or on other family road trips, but especially to Grandma and Grandpa's. Our parents felt it was important for us to play impromptu concerts for our relatives and friends, but we also had a fairly strict rule in our family: we had to practice every day, even on family vacations, as Shinich Suzuki always urged Suzuki families to do.
As a young adult my fiddle became both my "passport and bank account" as I used my musical skills to earn money for travel, eventually becoming a globetrotting busker in 1980s Western Europe and 1990s Southeast and Northeast Asia.
My instrument and the music I played weren't only a means of earning a living, but also served as a great way to meet people of all stripes--especially other musicans and other buskers who traveled along the same routes that I did. This was a great advantage to me in my globetrotting as well as in life in general. My fiddle has taken me inside many situations which never could have happened without the very fact that I was a working musician, and mostly outside my home element in the United States.
These are some of the reasons I have always traveled with my instrument. But now that I've become a teacher, it's been possible for me to join a world of the ordinary tourist. I think of it as a type of "accidental tourism," to qoute from the novel and movie of that title, because in doing so I felt way outside of my usual element.
When I first started traveling in Latin America in the late 1990s and early 2000s with a couple trips to Mexico, I continued to take my instrument along even if I didn't use it very much. Colonial cities such as Guanajuato or San Luis Potosi were made for the itinerant musician, but I didn't do any busking there, preferring instead to hear Mexican groups in the streets and plazas of those cities.
When I returned to Thailand for visits in 2005 and 2006 I continued to bring the instrument because many of my friends there are musicians and it was always possible to sit in and jam with them while they worked. And on my 2007 visit part of my purpose there was to record some 22 fiddle tunes which I did with a couple collaborators on guitar.
So why not travel with the instrument now? Really it comes down to a couple logistical issues, starting with post-9/11 hassles and airline baggage restrictions. For a time in the mid-2000s musicians all over America were complaining that the airlines were, in some cases, forcing them to check their instruments in the cargo hold. Though that era seems thankfully to have passed, more recently the airlines have become very strict about the size and number of carry on bags they allow, and they charge about $25 for each bag over that they require you to check in.
Secondly, my first two trips to Central America in 2008 and 2009 were only two weeks in length. Because of some uncertainty regarding the difficulties of bus travel in the region, and since I anticipated that I wouldn't use my instrument very much--if at all-- I decided then to leave the violin home and travel only with a small backpack and a day bag. This turned out to be the most convenient way to get around, but especially on the airlines and on some of the notorious "chicken" buses (they just keep packing them in like Colonel Sanders) in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and neighboring countries. I have to admit that questions of security also weighed heavily in my mind: would I lose my instrument to forgetfulness (a life-long nightmare of mine)? Even worse, would I lose it to theft? It didn't seem to be worth the risk for trips of such short duration. Yet I also must admit that I felt very strange traveling without my fiddle on those two occasions.
What about this trip now, which is seven weeks long? Well, I'm still dealing with the issues outlined above, but a major difference now is I'm taking a lot more time with this journey, so now the question has reasserted itself. And with my arrival in Perquin, it seems a shame that I won't be able to get to know the villagers and their children by offering up some fine impromptu fiddle music for their entertainment and enjoyment. Music has always been a cross cultural way to break the ice and form some connection with strangers. And that I'm not doing so on this trip is indeed a bit disconcerting for me.
This question certainly will pop up again whenever I decided to take more than a week or two in a given region. I would like to find a way to travel again with a backpack, a day bag, and an instrument, but for the moment I'm glad I don't have to worry about an expensive violin, and how I'm going to transport it safely on the next crowded, rattletrap of a bus I board.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Day 35 in Perquin: Cool Remote Place Charms The Soul
Perquin strikes one immediately as very quiet (there's hardly any traffic noise apart from the bi-hourly bus); very beautiful! (we are high in the mountains here, and even as it threatens to rain, the calm, cool forest green surrounding the area is pleasing to the soul); and very remote (the 40 mile bus trip from San Miguel takes more than two and a half hours).
Here we are in FNLN country: communists! Perquin was their HQ during the civil war, and the rebel guerrillas controlled considerable ground in this region, with many sympathizers living in the area. As we drive up we see evidence of this on the walls of people's houses and businesses: the red of the FNLN serves as a backdrop to iconic portraits of Che Guevara and other leftist heroes.
I'm staying at Perkin Lenca, a fine hotel/restaurant built and owned by American aid worker Ronald Brenneman who made his name in the 1980s building housing for refugees made homeless by the conflict. I was skeptical when I heard that this place has hot water, but I can confirm it is true: today I had my first truly hot shower since I left the States. . .
Perquin village at first glance is extremely charming. In a sense, this is the most remote area I've visited on this trip--maybe the most remote place I've visited since I was in northern Laos in the 1990s.
By remote I mean it takes some time and effort to get here. We are in a mountainous border region of El Salvador which supposedly doesn't even have an immigration checkpoint with Honduras, just a few miles up the road.
By remote I also mean there are no chain supermarkets, fast food joints, or even banks here ( I visited the ATM in San Miguel today to make sure I'd have enough cash for the next few days). Yet there are a couple cyber shops, a handful of cellphone shops, and a couple dozen restaurants.
There is the usual church, albeit a very small one, and the parque central/municipal square. There also is the Museo de la Revolucion Salvadoreña.
But mostly there is a lot of peace and quiet along this so-called Ruta de Paz which runs from here to the Honduran border. Perhaps this route is a testament to the possibility of reconciliation between once deadly enemies who--even today--collaborate hopefully in government for the good of all Salvadoreans.
Here we are in FNLN country: communists! Perquin was their HQ during the civil war, and the rebel guerrillas controlled considerable ground in this region, with many sympathizers living in the area. As we drive up we see evidence of this on the walls of people's houses and businesses: the red of the FNLN serves as a backdrop to iconic portraits of Che Guevara and other leftist heroes.
I'm staying at Perkin Lenca, a fine hotel/restaurant built and owned by American aid worker Ronald Brenneman who made his name in the 1980s building housing for refugees made homeless by the conflict. I was skeptical when I heard that this place has hot water, but I can confirm it is true: today I had my first truly hot shower since I left the States. . .
Perquin village at first glance is extremely charming. In a sense, this is the most remote area I've visited on this trip--maybe the most remote place I've visited since I was in northern Laos in the 1990s.
By remote I mean it takes some time and effort to get here. We are in a mountainous border region of El Salvador which supposedly doesn't even have an immigration checkpoint with Honduras, just a few miles up the road.
By remote I also mean there are no chain supermarkets, fast food joints, or even banks here ( I visited the ATM in San Miguel today to make sure I'd have enough cash for the next few days). Yet there are a couple cyber shops, a handful of cellphone shops, and a couple dozen restaurants.
There is the usual church, albeit a very small one, and the parque central/municipal square. There also is the Museo de la Revolucion Salvadoreña.
But mostly there is a lot of peace and quiet along this so-called Ruta de Paz which runs from here to the Honduran border. Perhaps this route is a testament to the possibility of reconciliation between once deadly enemies who--even today--collaborate hopefully in government for the good of all Salvadoreans.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Unanticipated Honduras Leg Adds Excitement
We've had fairly steady rains for three days straight in northwestern Nicaragua, southern Honduras, and eastern El Salvador, but meanwhile I've managed to cover some miles the past two days, and I've fixed an itinerary for the coming week.
With the postponement of the Costa Rica leg, a new Honduran leg becomes feasible, even desirable. Apart from two recent transit trips through Choluteca and a brief visit to Copan Ruinas in 2008, this will be my first extended visit, so as always with a new place, I feel excited.
After a day or two in Perquin, to begin hopefully tomorrow, I can continue north on that road to Sabanetas at the Honduran border which will place me in western Honduras. The first big town on that road is Marcala.
Continuing further northwest will bring me to the the colonial town of Gracias, founded in the 16th century, another of the many Spanish capitals dotting Central America. The Lonely Planet tells me this region is seldom visited by the tourist, but that it's even more charming for that reason. This is relatively high country, surrounded by beautiful mountains and populated with friendly rural folk.
From Gracias the road winds up in Santa Rosa de Copan which-- the Lonely Planet warns--is still some hours from the famous Copan Ruinas, which is another primary destination for me. Though I visited this massive Mayan attraction two years ago, the archaeological site is so impressive and well preserved that I feel I should pass through again in order to get some photos.
From Copan Ruinas, the Guatemalan border is just ten minutes away, so I can cross back there, take a bus to Antigua, and hopefully have time to visit Chichicastenango before wrapping up this trip.
With the postponement of the Costa Rica leg, a new Honduran leg becomes feasible, even desirable. Apart from two recent transit trips through Choluteca and a brief visit to Copan Ruinas in 2008, this will be my first extended visit, so as always with a new place, I feel excited.
After a day or two in Perquin, to begin hopefully tomorrow, I can continue north on that road to Sabanetas at the Honduran border which will place me in western Honduras. The first big town on that road is Marcala.
Continuing further northwest will bring me to the the colonial town of Gracias, founded in the 16th century, another of the many Spanish capitals dotting Central America. The Lonely Planet tells me this region is seldom visited by the tourist, but that it's even more charming for that reason. This is relatively high country, surrounded by beautiful mountains and populated with friendly rural folk.
From Gracias the road winds up in Santa Rosa de Copan which-- the Lonely Planet warns--is still some hours from the famous Copan Ruinas, which is another primary destination for me. Though I visited this massive Mayan attraction two years ago, the archaeological site is so impressive and well preserved that I feel I should pass through again in order to get some photos.
From Copan Ruinas, the Guatemalan border is just ten minutes away, so I can cross back there, take a bus to Antigua, and hopefully have time to visit Chichicastenango before wrapping up this trip.
U.S Knocked Out of World Cup!
What a disappointment! Just as I'd checked into my room across the street from the San Miguel (El Salvador) bus station and turned the TV on for the U.S.-Ghana match, Ghana broke a 1-1 tie in overtime to knock out the Yanks in what must be a shocking disappointment for a team that certainly had higher hopes.
But even European powerhouses (and former champions) Italy and France were knocked out in this year's event in South Africa, so is it any wonder? The U.S. can take some comfort in the knowledge that it's never been a world class soccer power, but still it must hurt. I've heard that the U.S. teams improve a little bit at every World Cup.
I think this might be why it's such a popular sport: even relatively poor countries like Ghana and Slovakia can knock out the mighty rich countries while lowly Honduras can hold rich and powerful Switzerland to a scoreless draw.
But even European powerhouses (and former champions) Italy and France were knocked out in this year's event in South Africa, so is it any wonder? The U.S. can take some comfort in the knowledge that it's never been a world class soccer power, but still it must hurt. I've heard that the U.S. teams improve a little bit at every World Cup.
I think this might be why it's such a popular sport: even relatively poor countries like Ghana and Slovakia can knock out the mighty rich countries while lowly Honduras can hold rich and powerful Switzerland to a scoreless draw.
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