#10 THE BIRTHDAY BONANZA
La Loteria Crew vs. The Waffle Warriors
So, I was originally planning to write a serious piece about grocery shopping in El Salvador—gripping stuff, right?—but then Jim and I had such a fun weekend that I had to spill this first. The trolley saga can wait; this is heaps more entertaining.
Friday night, we were invited to Mainor’s family bash, a monthly affair they’ve got down to an art: dinner followed by game night. Imagine a warm family roast colliding with Bingo, but with a Salvadoran twist and a dash of glorious chaos.
We strolled in and were greeted by a lively bunch of relatives and friends—honestly, it was like walking into one of those upbeat telly shows we all adore. Everyone was so welcoming, it felt like we’d been part of the gang forever. First up: food. They served panes con pollo, El Salvador’s wild spin on a chicken sandwich. Picture crusty bread packed with juicy chicken swimming in a zesty, spiced sauce, topped with crunchy pickled curtido (that cabbage stuff we’d all scrap over). It’s messy, divine, and definitely why my jeans were sulking the next day. Jim, being veggie-averse, of course asked for a no-pickles version—and then we both wolfed down two portions each. No regrets.
Then the real madness began: La Lotería. Forget your nan’s sleepy Bingo—this was pure genius. One of Mainor’s brothers grabbed a mic, perched at a DJ setup, and started calling out “cards” that were actually daft family snaps and local in-jokes. There was Mainor in a Santa Claus outfit (no backstory offered), Uncle Milton’s shiny pickup, a mototaxi, and snaps of local politicians they love to poke fun at. We all tossed in 5 cents a round, and the winner took the pot. Absolute gold.
Here’s the hitch. It was all in lightning-fast Spanish. Jim and I were like two clueless tourists, squinting at our cards, faking it ‘til we made it. Pretty sure we missed a win or two—couldn’t tell “mototaxi” from “Milton’s ride.” So we laid down a gauntlet: next time, it’s De Loterij, our Belgian revenge. Waffles, pralines, a brooding Ardennes shot, maybe King Conna Rousseau or fils à papa De Croo getting a roasting in Dutch. Let’s see them handle us hollering “frietjes!” and “Manneken Pis!” Bring it on, amigos.
After four or five rounds of this mayhem, a cake appeared—turns out it was Mainor’s mum’s birthday! Cue the singing, the slicing, and then everyone decided to head to a café. As we stepped outside, we spotted a little procession weaving through the streets. Apparently, every Friday night between Ash Wednesday and Holy Week, these mini faith parades pop up, ramping up to a huge Good Friday spectacle. Mainor swears it’s unmissable: streets closed off, stalls with local treats, artists creating street art,… I’m dying to catch that!
We wound up at La Fiera, the supposed crown jewel of the “nightlife district”—which is just two bars crammed together. For us, used to posh clubs with overpriced drinks, it was a hoot. La Fiera was… let’s call it “delightfully rough.” Flickering lights, rope lights, mismatched chairs, and a sound system older than my dad. Jim and I—him being a lighting expert—had a good laugh over the setup, but we quickly agreed it had a quirky charm all its own. The drinks were cheap, the crowd was buzzing, and chatting with such a warm bunch made the night unforgettable.
Special thanks to Mainor and his family! I can’t wait to bring you all back for that Lotería rematch!
Remember that moment you thought, “Oh, I’ll toss a few bucks to help those stray pups in El Salvador”? No worries if life got in the way—we’ve all been there! There’s still time to make a difference for those furry friends. Here’s the link to chip in: https://gofund.me/597a74c6. Even a small donation can go a long way—thanks for caring!
❤️