Essays that Worked!

Zoe Diaz-Martin '12, Southside High School, Fort Wayne, IN

It is always the same when I go back. I have the same anxious and excited feelings in my stomach on the plane ride down. The customs line is always too long, and the crowd of people waiting outside the airport to meet loved ones still makes me feel like a movie star. The air that smells dirty, like too much pollution or the smell you can only imagine when you look at photographs of developing countries, fills my nostrils immediately and I am at ease. Although it not exactly a good smell, I have learned to live it because it smells of El Salvador-  it smells of my distant home.

When my family travels to El Salvador, we always stay with my Abuela, my grandmother, since she has three extra bedrooms. Her house on 13 Avenida Sur, which is right next to La Hospital, the public hospital. The street is always colorful, alive and buzzing during the day. There are street vendors selling food, the majority of which is fried. You hear the hot sizzle of the grease and meat on the searing metal, and the smoke that lazily floats up to your nose fills it, making your eyes sting a little bit. Everyone seems to be chattering at the same time to people who are at leave five feet away, so you can hear anyone's conversation.

Abuela always keeps her front door open during the day because she has a little negocio-a little shop- in the front part of her house to earn some extra cash. There you can buy shoes, telephone cards, clothes, popsicles, toys, gum, candy, toothpaste and toothbrushes, hair ties, diapers, and probably any other random knick-knack you can imagine. She serves regulars who come everyday and random people who just stop by to pick something up.

The inside of the house is tranquil and quiet compared to the noisy buzz and bustle outside. There is usually a lingering smell of something delicious. Abuela had cooked for breakfast or lunch; she is a great cook and is known for her cooking.

My favorite part of Abuela's house if the patio. Walled-in and tiled, it has no roof. Open to the outdoors, it serves as the "backyard, which no house in Santa Ana has. Abuela has an unknown number of turtles that sluggishly wander around the patio; they come to the table at meal times to sit at your feet and beg for food and they hang out with the chickens in the chicken coop.  

The bedrooms lead right out of the patio; there are certain sounds that I treasure as patio sounds. There is the horrible crowing of the roosters at six in the morning that seems to go on for an hour and wake me up. There's also the sound of Abuela singing or humming old love songs as she fees the chickens and beings her daily routine. And then there is my favorite sound, the deep thud of something hitting the tin rood and the clunks as it rolls down, hitting the ground with a soft thump. This is the sound of a lime from the lime tree falling off after ripening.

It's all of these things, all of these sounds, smells and memories, that for me make up El Salvador and are a distinct part of me. There are the things that remind me of my family and that comfort me in away I can find no where else.

Last Modified: Thursday, August 28, 2008 16:14