El Salvador - August 25-29, 2023

[Martin Hash]

Exiting Guatemala and entering El Salvador had only one peculiarity; a 10 mile long line of trucks parked in our lane such that we had to drive into oncoming traffic to get through. There was some jostling involved to let large trucks come by but it went well enough. Unfortunately, we stopped for lunch for 30 minutes after entering the country; this was to be our undoing: while we were reboarding the truck I took a photograph of a funeral passing by; it was going the same direction we were. They traveled directly down the middle of the road so no vehicles could pass them going either way. We could only travel as fast as their slowest walker until they stopped altogether, blocking literally hundreds of vehicles dead in their tracks, us being one of them. This went on for 2 hours, but I can now say I’ve been in a funeral procession.



We stayed at a hostel in a beach community, El Izcanal, a surfer’s paradise. My wife, Gwynne. I slept together in a small bunkbed in a dorm of 8. We used the opportunity to watch a series about Navajos living in Monument Valley, Utah. Earlier in the trip we’d visited there and every time one of the famous formations were shone on-screen, Gwynne would say, “We’ve seen that. We were on that road. We were at that viewpoint.” It made the show very enjoyable. We had tropical drinks in a shoreline nightclub with live 80s & 90s music. Instead of swimming in the turbulent waters along a rocky beach, we swam in the pool at the hostel. Gwynne wore her bikini; she whispered to me, “I’m the best one here,” and she was right. Uniquely, there was a sign that said “Forbidden to have any unseemly act in the pool.” The place also didn’t allow alcohol either even though there was a prominent sign clearly offering it for sale.



It took all morning to get to San Salvador on the other side of the country, then a taxi into the old city. The rain was pouring down, like it does every afternoon, when we got dropped off in the street market, drenching the plastic & corrugated roofs of the densely packed stalls. After it stopped, we made our way to main square where the old colonial buildings were. It was a Sunday, which probably explained the singing & dancing. The buildings were decrepit but there was a Chinese-sponsored effort to revitalize the area; construction was everywhere, and soldiers patrolled the area. We stopped for a coffee in a familiar Starbucks.



Our lodging was a dorm hostel; Gwynne & I were assigned a double cubical in an air-conditioned room but when we got there, it was already occupied by a single person. In fact, all the beds were claimed except 2 top bunk beds on wiggly frames in another room of 12, no A/C. I tried to sleep but it was hot, my mattress was covered in noisy, sweaty plastic. Also, as I tossed and turned, the whole bed shook radically, continually waking the woman sleeping below me. Early in the morning, after not sleeping a wink, I gave up, climbed down the rickety ladder and went to the lobby to watch videos on my iPhone. Gwynne didn’t sleep much better because she was also afraid to move. The next night I didn’t even bother laying on that ridiculous mattress but just stayed on the lobby all night where one of the other guys from the room joined me later on. Worst sleeping arrangements ever.

Martin Sleeping in Lobby.jpg

Martin Sleeping in Lobby

We made one last stop on the way out of El Salvador, the quaint tourist city of Suchitoto. We were there long enough for Gwynne to buy gifts for my mom, and for me to break a beer bottle in the central square while trying to open it by hitting the cap with the palm of my hand. The rest of the day was hot & sweaty; this country is not on my “return someday” list.