It was an itsy-bitsy teeny weeny really quite red speedo-ini

One of the perks about living with a host family is that when they decide to go on outings, they take you with them. One of the perks about living with a host family in El Salvador is that it is warm enough to go to the beach in late November/December. And the other day, I did just that.

Rosa, Eva and I left the house about 6:45, catching a bus to meet up with the rest of the folk who were going with us. We all hopped in a silver van, and took off to the playa. After a couple of hours (we had to go past San Salvador) we arrived at the beach. And what a beautiful beach it was!!! The sand was absolutely gorgeous, the water so clear i could see my feet through the waves. Rosa stayed back with the niños, whom I had (unfortunately for the semi-dry state of Rosa) taught the game of jumping over waves. Eva and I went farther out, diving under waves and attempting to body surf to shore. Being used to the frigid waters of San Francisco, I was amazed by the fact I could swim in an ocean and still maintain feeling in my limbs.

As much as I LOVED being in the water, when it was time to eat I was more than willing to leave for some nourishment, which came in the form of a fish caught only a few minutes before I ate it. Although delicious, it was a bit of an experience to be served a fish that still had it's tail, fins, head, and eyes. For a few uncomfortable minutes, I felt the glassy gaze of the fish, condemning me for eating it. But then I was hungry, so I dug in. The Salvadorans were just tickled that I had never eaten a fish that still looked like a fish before. Half of their meal was spent laughing at me while I tried to navigate this strange new world of ribs, vertebrate, and, yes, eyes. However, after much determination, I finally ate the fish, and with true Salvadoran gusto.

Or so I thought.

"Aren't you going to eat the head??" Eat.... the head. What.

Apparently my expression when asked this seemingly innocent question was hilarious, judging from the reaction around the table. And, giving into peer pressure, I finally began to eat the head. Until I came to something that was small and really hard. "Oooh, yeah, that's the eye." I stopped eating the fish.

After resting for an hour (some rules MUST be followed - and although I am allowed to break the "don't drink a cold drink with a hot meal or else you are going to get sick" rule, I had to follow this one, at the risk of being tackled by Eva, who stands at four foot ten), we went back to the ocean. Eva and Rosa both stayed with the younger kids, so a woman named Blanca and I went a little farther out. A while into our wave frolicking, I felt a bit of a pull. "We're in a bit of a current, so let's start heading back." And that is when it happened. Every teenage girl's dream when they go to the beach.

I was saved by a super sexy Salvadoran lifeguard.

The story is only slightly diminished by the fact that the lifeguard was neither super nor sexy, and I did not need, in this particular moment, any saving. The disappointment of this experience can potentially be attributed to a number of things. Perhaps it was the fact that I, surprise surprise, could actually swim. Perhaps it was because the lifeguard really was not that cute.

Or maybe it was the ridiculously small, bright red speedo paired with the tattoo on the upper thigh.

Whatever the reason, the first statement he uttered as he took our hands served only to annoy me. "You are caught in a current." Yes. I realize this. "And I am here to save you!!" Wait... Excuse me?? And so it happened that I ended up walking next to him back to the shore. Now, at the point I let go of his hand and continued to walk, one might have deduced that the odds were I was going to make it. Not this fine lifeguarding staff. Not one, not two, but the ENTIRE lifeguarding staff ran out into the surf to help us. The water was at this point up to my knees. And of course, the entire beach turned to watch this intense at sea rescue. Upon being returned safely to the shore, the onlookers cheered and applauded. High drama with a happy ending, it doesn't get any better than that.

A few hours later, we headed home from the beach, exhausted, salty, and extremely happy. Leaving the parking lot, we stopped to give someone a lift to San Salvador. He hopped in, thanked us all, and stopped for a moment. "Hey!! The girl caught in the current!!! How are you???" It was one of the lifeguards. Because the humiliation of an unnecessary rescue had to be prolonged for another two hours.

I smiled. "Fine. Really, absolutely amazing. Your lifeguards really are brave, going out into the ocean to save people like me. I mean, we were almost in water up to our thighs." Obviously, this was meant as a joke.

He smiled, tossed his scant but willing hair, and said, "Don't worry about it. It is all in the job." Cue: attempt at a charming smile and a badly placed wink.

Well, Salvadoran Lifeguard Man, thank you. But I think I might stick with the illusion of Baywatch.