Laughs at Cholera (and Educates Neanderthals)
Shannon has wanted to go to Tazumal for a long time. I can see why. Tazumal is a 1,500 year old pile of rocks that used to be stacked on top of one another in the form of a temple, or, alternatively, a massage parlor. There is so much archaeology does not know for certain. Further enhancing its appeal to Shannon, Tazumal is located in the middle of a moderately grimy town called Chalchuapa that holds many wonders, like bus exhaust, late-90s model Honda Preludes in varying stages of decay that miraculously still run, oil-stained pavement, shops run by entrepreneurs who have imagined all the things you need least and then stocked their shelves with those things, and lots of bars that also sell pupusas.
Chalchuapa, El Salvador; January 2022
We found ourselves in one such bar a little before lunchtime on Shannon’s birthday this year. The kids walked gingerly and uncertainly past bored-looking men at tables strewn with way too many empty beer bottles for it to be only 11:30 am. But Shannon’s face was characteristically placid and pleasant as we took a table in the least dim corner of the joint, the one furthest from the decrepit speakers that were overmatched by the late-80s Spanish language hair metal they were struggling to play. She ordered ceviche. Then she laughed good-naturedly when she took a small bite and declared: “I bet this has cholera in it.” If Shannon were a Native American, that would be her name: Laughs At Cholera.
Here’s Shannon’s characteristically placid and pleasant expression. So smug. (Chalchuapa, El Salvador; January 2022)
The kids and I got carne asada. It was really tasty meat, but there was no silverware so we ate it with our hands, like a caveman and his cavekids. I haven’t had that much fun in a bar with Neanderthal children in a long time.
We tried to visit Tazumal several years ago on Shannon’s birthday. I took her for a nice long weekend to a house on the shore of a crystalline lake in the caledera of a volcano, but she whined and complained that she wanted to see Tazumal. So we drove two hours out of our way on the way home, but the ruins were closed. Shannon cried, pouted, and bit me. I’m just joking. She didn’t cry.
This time, after exploring developing world diseases at the bar, we had a nice stroll through the ruins. Shannon read the plaques in the museum to us, since they were all in Spanish, and also because, having been disallowed from attending school for so long due to COVID, my kids forgot how to read. Good ol’ Shannon, staring down cholera and educating her Neanderthal family on her birthday. She wouldn’t want it any other way.
Unbridled joy. (Chalchuapa, El Salvador; January 2022)
