As I am sure I have demonstrated sufficiently in past writings, I am extremely fair and open-minded.  Enlightened, almost, ya know?  So, it is with a heavy heart but a clear conscience that I feel obliged to report that the city of San Salvador sucks.

The BIG one!

El Salvador may, indeed, not suck completely if taken in a greater context but, frankly, I have seen enough, I think, to paint the whole of the country in the same bleak terms.  I can’t recommend it.

Put more succinctly, I almost hate it.

The reasons, for me, are many.  But the biggest deterrent is that it is just plain, stinkin’ bloody hot.  Like Burning Man hot.  Like the Sahara-with-trees-hot.

By comparison, Toronto in an August heat wave with full humidity is a walk in Stanley Park in the springtime.  The truly amazing thing is that one of the locals told me, “Oh, this isn’t hot!  March, April and May – now that is when it gets hot.  This?  This is good”.

Bear in mind that we are in the ‘cool’ part of El Salvador – the mountains.  And it is winter.

The other thing I am not enamored with is the impression of violence.  It is not the violence. Seen none of that.  In fact, the El Salvadoreans are amongst the most welcoming and friendly peoples we have ever encountered.  They are gracious, helpful and, to a person, considerate and pleasant. Especially the young people.  It’s not the people.

But…………..well………..it’s the people.  Let me explain………………

Should you go to a neighbourhood convenience store (a tienda), you are likely to first encounter a man with a shotgun standing on the corner.  Similar to Guatemala.  The difference: the Guatemalan is in a uniform, has ID and likely looks half asleep.  Typically, they have a newish SUV nearby with Securidad or Policia printed on the side. The Guatemalan men chosen to sport these weapons of personal destruction are just as often benign looking and/or young.

The ones in San Salvadore, on the other hand, look like they came straight from Central Casting.  No uniform.  Grungy clothes.  Mean-lookin’, gun-totin’, suspicious, edgy and scary-lookin’ hombres.  Usually standing menacingly in the shadows.

Somehow they convey a threat to me that is more personal and meaningful.  Call me crazy.

Neighbourhood Watch

These guys are guarding streets, like city blocks.  It is Neighbourhood Watch but with real commitment.  12 gauge.  They might be backed up by a couple of removable pipes or barrels blocking traffic.  In one case the local ‘sheriff’ has a steel drop-gate stretched over the end of a public side-street.

But, by far, the image that instills in me the greatest fear is the tienda itself.  In some, you can’t walk in.  A large steel gate with a ‘pass-through-opening is used at the entry as the ‘front counter’ at which all transactions take place.  Sometimes you can go into the building but then the proprietor and all his or her wares are behind similar heavy duty steel gates.  The impression is that you are doing a deal through the bars of the cell of the inmate imprisoned there.

Our Friendly Neighbourhood Convenience Tienda

And they are.  It’s horrible.  The lady around the corner has just such a store.  She’s open later than other tiendas – most don’t stay open after dark.  She has two vicious dogs roaming around in the dark space behind the front-gate-cum-cell door.  You ask for what you want and then she goes to get it from an eclectic, disorganized pile of goods, personal items, garbage and odds and sods.  You pass money through the bars and she passes through your purchase.  The guy ahead of me bought one tomato and two single (removed-from-the-pack) cigarettes.  The transaction took at least five minutes.

Making a purchase (from a camera shy storekeeper)

These are not really convenience stores as we know them.  More like ‘stashes’ from a Mad Max movie.

And we are staying in the upscale university area.  The one that has the only park that is safe to be in at night.

Is it safe to come out?

Our pleasant little B&B looks like a fortress and it is.  You have to buzz your way in and the gate through which you pass is heavy steel capped with electrified barbed wire and would stop most vehicles under four thousand pounds from ramming it.  Only a tank could get through on it’s first pass.  Or, maybe a chicken-bus with a full-head of steam. The rest of the outside facade is high concrete walls topped with the ubiquitous barbed wire or broken bottles.

Front Yard in a Box

And it is not the only fortress.  In fact, just about every building presents a solid concrete wall with a similar steel gate with the same or sometimes extra security paraphernalia.  A lot of people keep dogs as well.  They are not seen but they can be heard.  Walking the streets at night is like walking past a prison.  It’s just plain ugly and, after awhile, it gets depressing.

The family of man, eh?

I must admit to not being too keen on the thriving American corporate presence here either.  There is nothing wrong with a Macdonalds and KFC and WalMart and all that.  They deserve a presence, I guess.  But where they are in poor counties, no more local businesses seem to exist.  Where they are, the American cultural influence overwhelms the local one.

And they are everywhere.  I have seen a KFC the size of  a small school with the Macdonalds/Ikea-type small children’s play area attached. American corporations may do a lot of things right but displacement of the culture is – in my view – wrong.  Well, boring at the very least.  The thing is – San Salvador has the largest American style shopping mall in Central America.  It is first or second on the ‘list of things to do here’.

Like I need more Gucci, eh?  Which I can purchase here with US dollars as that is, in fact, the official currency of this country.  That’s right.  The whole country uses only US currency.  And get this…the average wage is under $300 a month with our 7-day-a-week ‘cleaner’  at the B&B getting room and board and $60.00 for a months work.  It is hard to get by in San Salvador.  Very hard.

Now don’t get me wrong.  Even though I will never return willingly to El Salvador, I am ecstatic that we came.  The experience of having been here and done this is way more important than having enjoyed it.  Enjoyment is definitely climbing my list of priorities (along with cleanliness and hot water) but it is still trailing behind ‘something new, something different and a good learning experience.’  We learned a lot.  I am definitely glad we came.

And I am also looking forward to leaving.  So, it was good both coming and going.  Staying?  Not so much…….

The Ubiquitous Barbed Wire