El Paral:

£al5o0 a Travel Journal

by Tracy Bacenas

In June | travelled to Guatemala City to hook up with my younger
sister who had been in Costa Rica for several months. We stayed in
Antigua for a few days, spent some time in the city, and toured af
to Tikal and back. Then we decided to head to El Salvador because
we had a line on a free resort condominium and planned to use it
as a home base for further touring. It turned out the resort was
very isolated and though our suite was paid for, we couldn't afford
to eat in the restaurants at the resort. There were no markets near-
by and no kitchen in the suite as promised. Luckily, we met Edwin.
Edwin worked in the reception office and had welcomed us like
long-lost cousins upon our arrival because he had actually lived here
in Vancouver for seven years before being deported for immigrating
to Canada illegally. He left behind a wife and happy memories, and
is working desperately to save up enough money to return to
Canada or bring his wife to El Salvador once the legalities are
worked out. When we went to reception to check out, Edwin was
behind the counter. He convinced us to stay one more night so that
he could escort us back into San Salvador on his day off. At day-
break, we met Edwin by the highway and hitch-hiked our way to
his mother's house in a little neighbourhood outside San Salvador
called El Paraiso (The Paradise) where we ended up staying as
guests for a few days. | took rolls and rolls of photographs and
have nearly completed a book of photos accompanied by excerpts
from the journal that | kept during those few disturbing, awaken-
ing, unforgettable and somehow familiar days. These photos are the
people, the tastes, the simells of Edwin's on a

This is El Paraiso.

@~
oe

aa ‘44°

ind qamdposans + Couatin py: oa” home in Cl Peratod.
El Parai:

xerpts fr 29 a Travel Journal

by Tracy Bacenas

In June | travelled to Guatemala City to hook up with my younger
sister who had been in Costa Rica for several months. We stayed in
‘Antigua for a few days, spent some time in the city, and toured up
to Tikal and back. Then we decided to head to El Salvador because
we had a line on a free resort condominium and planned to use it
as a home base for further touring. It turned out the resort was
very isolated and though our suite was paid for, we couldn't afford
to eat in the restaurants at the resort. There were no markets near-
by and no kitchen in the suite as promised. Luckily, we met Edwin.
Edwin worked in the reception office and had welcomed us like
long-lost cousins upon our arrival because he had actually lived here
in Vancouver for seven years before being deported for immigrating
to Canada illegally. He left behind a wife and happy memories, and
is working desperately to save up enough money to return to
Canada or bring his wife to El Salvador once the legalities are
worked out. When we went to reception to check out, Edwin was
behind the counter. He convinced us to stay one more night so that
he could escort us back into San Salvador on his day off. At day-
break, we met Edwin by the highway and hitch-hiked our way to
his mother’s house in a little neighbourhood outside San Salvador
called El Paraiso (The Paradise) where we ended up staying as
‘guests for a few days. | took rolls and rolls of photographs and

have nearly completed a book of photos accompanied by excerpts
from the journal that I kept during those few disturbing, awaken- .

ing, unforgettable and somehow familiar days. These photos are the

people, the tastes, the smells of Edwin's neighbourhood.

This is El Paraiso, *