El Salvador and Copan Ruinas, Honduras

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September 2

I left Somoto, Nicaragua at 6:30 AM for my trek to San Miguel, El Salvador, crossing through Southern Honduras, which required 6 different buses in 7 hours without more than a 15 minute wait between them. Honduras had a noticeably increased military and police presence around its borders and highways, although I am not sure if this is normal or due to political turmoil surrounding the country. On the bus between Choluteca and the El Salvadorian border I met Juan who told me about his experiences living illegally in the States a few years ago and traveling on the "death train" from Chiapas, Mexico to Laredo, Texas, and then to Houston where he worked construction. He described how dangerous the train travel was crossing Mexico, and the risks he took living in the States illegally. I had recently seen a documentary about young children traveling on the "death train" from Central America to the US, so I understood how extremely dangerous it is when he repeatedly stated "they tried to kill me man." I learned that children as young as 9 attempt the journey and many of their families never hear from them again, not knowing if they are even alive. Eventually he earned enough money and faced enough risks that he moved back to Honduras to be with his two daughters.

I arrived in San Miguel which is so hot that even a cold shower did nothing to cool me down. Apparently the water pipes can't even keep out the heat here. I ventured through the labyrinthal market and ate my first Salvadorian pupusas, tortillas with beans and cheese in the middle, served with a salad at 3 for a dollar. Pretty darn tasty, I reckon I'll eat more of these. San Miguel does not seem to be a particularly happy place, but I suppose the year round 95 degree heat and high humidity will do that. After my pupusas I decide I have seen enough and go back for another shower and a nap in my stifling room ($3 more for AC?, just can't do it) After the sun sets I realize I no one is going to bring food to me, so I must go out again, this time my search leading me to the fast food chain Pollo Campero, which at least is air conditioned. The distance however back to my hotel makes for a nervous walk, since after 6PM San Miguel's center is a ghost town, and not particularly safe.

September 3

I vaguely planned on going to the western beaches today, however my haste in leaving town brought the afternoon and its irregular bus schedules making me change my destination to Santa Ana in the northwest part of the country. The main dilemma of traveling in El Salvador is that all roads lead to San Salvador, the mostly unpleasant capital city of 1.6 million where gangs, (famed MS-13 of LA) violence, and desperation are a part of the backdrop. Here each part of the country is served by its own bus terminal and taxis are required to get between the terminals, unless you want to take your chances navigating numerous grungy city buses. San Salvador can be an interesting place to explore, given you know where to look, and don't take anything of value with you. I found the most interesting thing about San Salvador is that even the national cathedral has tall fences with razor wire around it. Apparently Catholic charity only goes so far here. A friendly man that I sat next to me on the bus to here was willing to help me get to the terminal for Santa Ana, so we took a bus to the city center while he adamantly stressed how I should be careful with myself and never ever resist robbery (did my mother send this guy?). My growing desire for getting a taxi was sealed when he stated that we had to first go visit his brother, and then we would continue on the next bus to find the terminal. I didn't want to arrive in Santa Ana after dark, and this guy was holding me back, however he did help me find a taxi, and I was off on the slow bus to Santa Ana. I arrived after dark and remained the only person on the bus when the driver told me I had to get off, in the dark, with my bags, and not knowing where I was. Generally in the larger cities in El Salvador you don't want to be out after dark if it looks like you might have something worth stealing, and in this case I had all my possessions. I started walking down a dirt street, passing by children playing and churches filled with music until I came across a pupuseria where two men and a group of teenagers told me which bus I should take to find my hotel, and waited with me till it arrived. They again reiterated the man in San Salvador sentiments about being very careful here. I got off as close as the bus would take me, which was still seven blocks away, each step along these empty streets brought me closer to safety and knowing that without the kindness of strangers I may have never found my hotel. When I arrived at my hotel with a huge sigh of relief the owner was just beginning to prepare chicken soup, and if I help I could have some also. What an amazing surprise to what turned out to be a pretty stressful day. When I told Javier how people were helping me and warning me of the dangers of Santa Ana, he said, "Santa Ana, dangerous?...No." I was in no mood to argue with someone that has lived his whole life here, instead very relieved to be indoors in a new city.

My time in the daylight of Santa Ana was used by taking in the city's market, parks, churches, and for some unknown reason, the mall. I suppose I was just curious as to how disgusted I would find this center of growing Americanization, to which the answer was extremely. While the rest of the country is mostly authentic(however increasingly looking like an American suburb), the mall is a fake and glamorous show where people go to be seen paying exponentially more for electronics and clothes than in the cities markets and local stores. Also here you find the American fast food chains which cost three times as much as Salvadorian chains of the same quality. Thankfully just down the street you can still get three pupusas for a dollar.

September 5

I headed to the small town of Juayua today on the Ruta de las Flores (Flower Route) in search of tranquility and hiking, but first I had to find my bus in Santa Ana. The bus terminal in Santa Ana is choked my the market stretching in all directions resulting in any bus leaving the terminal needing at least 15 minutes to idle through the maze of people and vendors while spewing diesel exhaust on its inhabitants and fresh produce. If this delay didn’t exist I would have missed the Juayua bus, but a kind man told me it had just left 5 minutes earlier and was just out of sight, stuck in the conglomeration of commerce. I arrived in Juayua glad to find a small town pace and friendly folks after spending the previous days in El Salvador’s largest cities. Another thing to love about Juayua this day is its weekly food fair which brings in people from all over the country. Although endless options abounded I had to stick to my backpacker budget and eat the cheapest thing I could find, which were tasty chicken tostadas.

September 6

After traveling for a week a half by myself I was glad to find people to talk to and hang out with in the Juayua hostel. A friend I had just met, Melia from Georgia invited me on a day trip to Apaneca just up the road on the Ruta de las Flores and this being the flower route we had to check out some nurseries, and then up a steep road to a lake. Thankfully we got a ride up in a pickup, since it absolutely poured on us the whole way. At the top, we ran for cover at a restaurant/guesthouse where a man came out with towels and a blanket and offered his comfy couch for us to get warm. Amazing generosity made greater when we found out that his place was closed this day, however he would cook us lunch anyway. An otherwise miserable time was made perfect by this unnecessarily accommodating gentleman. By the time we had finished eating and drying off the sun came out and we were perfectly content to head back to Juayua without seeing the lake, but instead with warm fuzzies from the unsuspected charity.

September 7

Today I went on a guided tour of the Chorros de la Calera, an underground river complete with waterfalls, a man made pool at the base of the falls, and tunnels connecting the falls used for hydroelectricity. I swam through the pitch dark tunnels where the water came up to my shoulders and I had to be careful to not hit my head (don't need another one of those!) In the waterfalls our guide Edgar, all 4 foot 9 of him, would climb numerous times up the rocks ten, twenty, and then more than thirty feet high and dive with grace and precision in the boulder littered pool that was at its deepest five feet. It was an amazing display of athleticism and Latin machismo. Melia and I were both headed just up the road to Tacuba for more hiking so we boarded the bus bound for the sleepy coffee growing town and the Hostal Mama y Papa whose son Manolo runs tours to the Parque Nacional El Imposible. The only thing the town has to offer is pupusas, however the hiking is phenomenal and Mama and Manolo will down right talk your ear off whether you are in the vicinity or not.

September 8

After the rain gods told us it would be a clear day we headed out for Las Vistas hike where much of the time our guide created the trail as we went, hacking through the thick vegetation with his machete. This was the most difficult climb I have done so far since almost the entire route was a steep up and down trail following a ridgeline no wider than my foot. The "parte de muerte" (section of death), has not caused fatalities to date, however did require stringing up ropes to scale down the sheer rock faces. Although it was cloudy at the top, Las Vistas was worth the effort and our guide’s knowledge of the areas flora and fauna was interesting to hear. Back in town some pupusas recommended by Mama complete with a plant our guide showed us in the bush tasted great after seven hours of hiking. To complete the sensation of eating pupusas in the park were the sights and sounds of the Festival de las Farolitas celebrating Mary's birthday, which included a beautiful candle display and a musical procession around town. A beer in a hammock with the bantering back and forth of Manolo, Mama, y Papa in the background made the day complete.

September 10

My friend has convinced me to travel toward northern El Salvador with her, so a stop in Santa Ana to climb another volcano has been decided on. We showed up to at Parque Nacional Los Volcanes were we climbed Volcan Izalco, one of the youngest volcanoes in the world, born in 1770 and measuring 1910 meters from sea level. It is considered active yet, however hasn't threatened locals for over 40 years. With the most over the top accompaniment on a hike to date we climbed with two police officers, four guides, and a high school class field trip, who were unfortunately as loud and dramatic as any teenagers in the States would be. It was here I learned of the custom that if a girl is struggling up a volcano she has the right to helped by a man in the form of holding hands. Although this is a sweet gesture, it is not practical for climbing up volcanoes with loose rocks and trails only wide enough for one person. One such struggling girl grabbed my hand as I passed and we climbed much less efficiently, and with increased danger I felt, as she groaned and dragged her feet the whole way up the volcano. The good news is we didn't get rained on, the bad news is the entire area was blanketed with clouds, so there was no chance of a view beyond the shallow, brown, red, and black crater.

September 12

Upon arriving in Suchitoto in northern El Salvador we found an elegant town with a view over Lago de Suchitlan which has recently developed an artistic movement and tourism boost by the well to do from San Salvador. Here we visit the waterfalls of Los Tericos which are hexagonal stones that seem to lie on top of each other on the cliff. We are guided by a very eager 5 year old boy who climbed shoeless up and down the rocks chattering about everything he saw. After showing us the falls and starring in a photo shoot, he was intent on turning over every rock to show us crabs. When we thought we had seen it all, he lead us down a path to a beautiful view of Lago de Suchitlan where he told us about all the fish there, and proved to us he is one brave tree climber! If we weren't sure this boy was a character, on the way back we met some other tourists coming down the path to which he stated, "they would surely be bored since they are not going with him." By afternoon the heat of Suchitoto required something to swim in, and thankfully there was a fancy hotel that had a pool and over priced margaritas overlooking Lago de Suchitlan where we ran into some Irish friends from back in Juayua and shared travel stories.

September 13

The next stop was the small town of San Ignacio near the Honduran border which is the jumping off point for climbing Cerro El Pital, (2730 meters) the highest point in El Salvador. Arriving into town, the last bus was leaving immediately for El Pital, meaning we had to go without lunch, and as a result I have learned that I should be prepared for my friend to push me OFF the highest point in El Salvador. The road up to El Pital was the most impressive I have seen in El Salvador and is so curvy and steep that most of the way is done at 10mph. While sitting next to my friend on the bus, I stood up at one point to look at a sign and when I turned around not two seconds later an old man was sitting in my seat with a big ol toothless grin telling her "you should ditch him and continue down the road where its better." Thankfully she didn't and we made it on two feet, unlike the rich Salvadorians who all drove to the top in their SUVs. Although it was completely cloudy at the top and devoid of a view, I did find the softest grass I had ever seen at the highest point in a country. As I see it there is only one thing to do when these blessings come together, and that is roll down that grass like you were born to do so. Back in town we inquired at our desolate hotel if San Ignacio had a bar that would be open, to which we were directed to the meat store. So hesitantly I inquired at the town carneceria if they have anything to drink, to which the owner excitedly led us to a back, windowless room with a small bar and 70's style furniture. My friend and I order rum and cokes, which I get a liberal portion of since I am a guy, Melia on the other hand according to the bartender "needs a ladies drink," which is not rum and coke but instead she is served blue sugar in a glass with a splash of vodka. So far this guy takes the cake for Latino chauvinism. Soaking up the environment of the back room of the meat store with its ragged furniture, cheesy paintings, the requested 80's music along with the Evangelical lyrics from the church across the street, I think man what a day!

Some perceptions of El Salvador:
A place where Charlton Heston could call home with gun ownership at a reported at 80% of the population, weapons are a part of everyday life here. Any business with something worth stealing has a security guard (maybe only 14 years old) holding a large shot gun or semi automatic, and citizens are not shy about what they are packing (when you live amongst the MS-13, not a bad idea). However I saw nothing to suspect any crime or violence even occurs here. (not that I was looking) Probably due to the large amount of the population working oversees (25%), there is an Americanization going on here like no other. Fast food restaurants and fancy clothes and cars are seen as the way to live and it seems like a place of haves and have nots. Most noticeable however is the friendliness of the people, who will go out of their way to help, and may even ask if you are lost, when clearly you are not. If you need any more proof that El Salvador is a place of contradictions, the downtown San Salvador AA chapter is directly above a bar. Best of both worlds I guess.

September 14

I continue with my friend to Copan Ruinas, Honduras even though I went there in 2008, it is the most logical entry point into Guatemala, and I did think it was a nice town. This being the eve of the Independence Day from Spain for all of Central America except Belize, the town is in a festive mood, and quickly we share company with two small boys of 3 and 5 years each with balls and wanting to play with us. We play catch and practice counting while their mom sits 15 feet away oblivious to what they are doing. They giggle emphatically, while tossing the ball in the trees, just so they can climb and go get it. Eventually they became comfortable enough for me to throw them in the air, which made them giggle with joy and say "again, again!" all the while their mother sat facing the other direction, maybe hoping we would take them. It seems as though whenever you give a child any attention, they always become so excited and happy; I suppose because they are not accustomed to adults to playing with them.

September 15

I had been looking forward to the celebration of Independence Day for some time since everywhere I have been there have been students practicing their instruments many hours of the day in preparation, and Copan's festivities did not disappoint. After a breakfast of baleadas, the Honduran tortilla specialty, we took in the parades around the jam packed plaza filled with music, dancing, and girls twirling their brightly colored native dresses. However with all the lead up, I anticipated a day long celebration, but instead the festivities were over by early afternoon, and everyone was back in their houses resting from the heat. After having seen more of Central America, this visit to Copan Ruinas made me notice the unnatural cleanliness and undeniable wealth that exists here. It seems every other building is a fancy hotel or restaurant, while the market is jammed in an unsigned building making it mostly unnoticeable. Void of local flavor, besides cowboys walking down the cobblestone streets, it is clear that this place caters to international tourists who want their Honduras not much different than home. After a couple days I was feeling culture shock, longing for tacos in the street, the sights and sounds of city markets, and just maybe breathing bus fumes while I eat my tacos in the street.

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Photos

Lago Suchitlan, with my guide
Its appropriate he looks like a monkey here, cause he certainly acts like one.

Comments

[Jan Popp]

Neat
Sounds like you are enjoying your trip. keep in touch.