It was 3-flight day. I woke up at 2:15 in the morning, and this trip still didn't feel completely real. I put together the last of my things so that we could be out the door by 3. We drove quietly to Jenna's house to pick her up, and I helped her get the last of her things packed up. Thankfully, she reminded me that razors are probably not the best things to put in a carry-on, so we made sure we both packed those in our checked luggage. That could have been bad.
The airport was a-buzz with passengers, but things went pretty smoothly for us as we got ready for Flight 1. We slept on-and-off on the way to Atlanta. We didn't have to worry about our luggage in Atlanta, since it would go straight through to Dallas. Flight 2 went much like the first as we tried to sleep on-and-off. Dallas was where it got a little more exciting.
Getting off the plane, we started off to get our luggage and then find American Airlines for Flight 3. Apparently Dallas airport is a bit larger than the others. That is, not everything can be found in one building. We finally found out we needed to take a shuttle to our terminal. We made it in time, made it through security, and then it was off to see if any of our group were there. Beyond Facebook (which only tells you so much about a person), we didn't really know any of these people. Little by little, the group began to converge. A couple people here, a couple there, three more, and then el jefe came and debriefed us. Bobby showed himself to have a good sense of humor and a confident knowledge of what we were doing. Jenna and I discovered that we would not be sitting together. We Compassion people would be scattered throughout the plane, and we were boarding at different times. Getting to know these people would have to wait until we arrived in our destination country.
El Salvador. I boarded the last plane before we would finally be there. This flight consisted a lot more heavily of latino people. I sat down next to a latino man and his little daughter. As the flight began, we struck up a conversation that ended up being on-and-off all three hours of the flight. We swapped reasons for flying to El Salvador. Mine to visit Compassion International projects and meet the boy I sponsored, and his to see the family he left to move to the U.S. I asked him about his family, his daughter who was with him, where he lived, where he worked, why he moved to the U.S., and what his experience had been. He shared pictures of his daughter's end-of-school celebration, first-hand stories that sounded like things I had learned in my Understanding Hispanic Culture class, and Oreos. That's a true friendship, right there. It was so interesting to hear from this man why he had moved, where he had gone, who he had left and who he had gained, and all kinds of things. He was so open, so willing to share his story, so good with his little girl. I was intrigued. And also tired.
We landed, and as I looked outside, I realized that I was looking at another country. I probably could have cried right then and there, but who has time for that when you're about to go through customs? I headed off the plane after saying my farewell to José and Yulitza. Our group reconvened before going downstairs through customs. Still not really knowing my companions, our first bonding experience proved to be our wait in the customs line. We waited and then moved to the counter where we received our passport stamps (my very first-hooray!) and some of us used our Spanish skills for the first time in a foreign country. We retrieved our luggage and headed out into the open air.
We were met amidst the crowd of relatives and friends waiting for their loved ones by a Salvadoran man who directed our group toward the street and then a bus that apparently was ours. His face...wasn't that the man I had seen in those funny Compassion videos? I had expectations of a great sense of humor, and he met them. The night air smelled warm as we headed to the corner of the sidewalk and then loaded up the bus. We had our choice of the white bus or the "blanco" bus. On to the hotel as we listened to Juan's first briefing session and munched on Subway sandwiches that did not disappoint us by tasting just like home. I quickly learned that Juan loves and cares about his job and loves to serve (and that he worked as a clown named Dicito to put himself through physical therapist school). By the time our buses reached the (very nice) hotel, I looked forward to having Juan as our Salvadoran leader for the week, and I was starting to pick up on some fun personalities from the part of our group that rode in the "blanco" bus.
A quick meeting in the lobby and we were off to a hasty night's sleep. Well, so we thought. Who knew Salvadoran elevators would be so tricky? Our second bonding experience, as we stood all huddled into the elevator, trying to figure out how to work the thing. Turns out you need to use your room key to make it go up (but not down).
In this first hotel room, you wouldn't even know you were out of the U.S. It was everything we were used to besides the fact that we had to remember not to use the tap water to brush our teeth. We faithfully reminded one another. What good friends we are.
Tired out, we quickly went to bed (softest beds ever), deciding to set our phone alarms for 5:00. Tomorrow, our journey with Compassion would begin.
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