I arrived at the El Salvador border just before dark. I was immediately hounded by money changers and people wanting to take my bags. I walked across the border on foot and was questioned by about 5 different guys until they finally let me pass. On the other side, the boarder town was a typical boarder town, (sleazy motels, people trying to sell CD´s). I walked about 2 K´s to the bus station. There was only one bus leaving so I got on it. I didn’t really know where it was going, but they said something about Sonsanate which I knew was somewhere close to the coast. Anyway, it was already after dark and so I pretty much had to get on the bus in order to get off of the street.
El Salvador is a dangerous country. It has the highest rates of violent crime in Central America and much of the population is still very heavily armed as a hold over from the long and brutal civil war here. Gangs are rampant and often exist outside of the authority of the national police. Murders, violet crimes, and people "disappearing" are still very much a part of everyday life here. For the most part they leave tourists alone, but most of the guide books advise extreme vigilance and recommend not walking around too much after dark.
My planned destination was a place called Playa El Zonte, a small little surfing village on the Pacific coast. But the bus did not go through to El Zonte, and the bus driver said that since it was late, I should probably stay in Sonsanate for the night. We pulled into the terminal and he very generously offered to take me himself in the bus to a Hotel. Very nice considering that the taxis in El Salvador are astronomical. He asked me what kind of hotel I wanted. "Very Cheap" he said. I said "No Very Cheap, no Very Expensive either." "I want a clean room with a private bathroom." So he drove me down the street for about 5 minutes and dropped be off at a Hotel that looked OK from the outside. The room inside was actually rather filthy - there was something akin to moss on the chairs and a giant hole in the side table. Everything smelled like mildew. There was graffiti all over the walls, (apparently, that intrepid Latin American traveler Paco was here). I declined the room and went out in search of something that would not give me nightmares. But after about a block, I realized that the neighborhood was not safe. There was gang members driving around in pick up trucks and groups of young men hanging out in the streets. They noticed me walking with my pack and took an interest. I wandered for about two blocks until I resigned myself to the fact that it was too dangerous to walk around further and I was stuck and would have to bear this hotel for the night. After an hour in the room, I became aware of not one but two roaches in the room. I didn’t know the Spanish word for roach, (cucaracha) so I was literally trying to climb the walls to illustrate what a roach was. Finally, they moved me to another room that they said would not have roaches. In the middle of the night, I went to use the bathroom, and I saw a friend hanging out in the corner. Using that disturbing survival intelligence that they developed from living among humans for centuries, he was hiding in the corner very still, trying to blend in with the wall. I went back to bed; needless to say, I did not sleep well that night.
