February 7, 2025

The bus slowly wends its way through the dense tapestry of market stalls, ambulatory vendors littering the open area around us, a continuous procession of these vendors selling prepared peanuts, sweets, cut fruit, plates of French fries dressed with ketchup and grated cheese, chicken salad sandwiches, assorted snacks, then those boarding to implore passengers for financial assistance, typically budding evangelists.

We are finally out of the confines of Santa Ana, on the weaving narrow highway heading to the southwest toward Sonsonate, a city close to the coast, between San Salvador and the border with Guatemala. My destination is Juayúa, a small town on the Ruta de los Flores that runs north-south to the east of Santa Ana, whose southernmost nexus is Sonsonate. Unequivocal about the country are the short travel distances, and today is no exception.

The landscape around us becomes increasingly hilly and green, a refreshing change from the relentlessly flat and overdeveloped southern centre of the country. The small settlements lining the road to the southwest also seem somewhat prosperous, or at least catering to a more prosperous visitor. The Ruta de los Flores seems to overlap with the country’s select coffee country, so it makes sense that it would attract a more jaded visitor.

The narrow side road weaves through the increasingly steep terrain, and soon we are descending into the town itself. What stands out to me about the route we have taken is the impeccable state of the roads; perhaps they are perfectly maintained here, as it is a tourist area. I had expected a town such as Juayúa to be quite privileged in its presentation, but it comes across as nothing more than a pleasant country town, perhaps somewhat better maintained than its counterparts elsewhere. The town has pre-Columbian origins, its name in Nahuatl meaning “river of purple orchids”; the town’s economy specializes in nurseries of ornamental plants, coffee, as well as local gastronomy, whereby a gastronomic fair is held in the center of town every weekend.

Regarding the high cost of accommodation here, the host of my Co-Living Airbnb tells me that despite so much housing in the country being virtually abandoned, there is an insufficient supply of rental housing. The room in the Airbnb I have booked contains a bed, nightstand, fan, stand for clothing, a private bathroom, and is clean, with an adequate amount of space, relatively anodyne, and with a large common area that includes a living and dining space and reasonably-sized kitchen, also quite clean and organized. But for CAD $50 a night?

This seems quite outrageous for a small town in El Salvador, particularly given that the town is far from exceptional. But the prices ostensibly come down to supply and demand; I spent far more time than I had wanted to trolling through the limited accommodation options in the area, although in retrospect, should have opted for one of the larger cities to the north or south that gate the Ruta de los Flores, simply because the villages in the area have little to offer that the larger towns don’t – other than their presumably vaunted reputation.

The owner is a young Spaniard from the Basque country that has a diverse ethnic background, although no roots in the local community. He moved here and bought a house with his local girlfriend, developing the place as a guesthouse with a few rooms that has been quite popular and successful. He tells me that due to the nature of visitors, he has had no problems with people, and he certainly has the sunny disposition that is ideal for dealing with the constant stream of European and North American backpackers.

Land is quite expensive here now, paradoxically not because of the absence of housing, but due to the challenges the country has faced in recent history. A lot of housing has been abandoned, as I have seen in Santa Ana, and despite sitting empty, is not available for use, hence leaving the stock available for tourism, for example, to be quite limited.

One of the people staying at the CoLiving space is a young Canadian from Saskatchewan working remote in the travel sector, currently looking for work as an online contributor of travel content, and trying to shape his travel itinerary in a way that aligns with his work but also allows him to discover the world but in an appropriate manner. Given how much the world has to offer, this is clearly a desirable path to learn much more about the world, although not a path I have chosen, as I also prefer living at home for periods of time. And still have a quality home to return to.

Outside, the town looks innocuous, a grid pattern of alleys with low profile traditional houses flowing towards what is some sort of centre, a plaza with a pretty church whose square white spires dominate the town. Here and there, curious locals stand or walk along the narrow sidewalks, the locals polite but imbuing the presence of a foreigner with less attention than would be garnered even in central San Salvador, given the amount of tourists that probably pass through the place.

Here and there, small bakeries, eateries, and stores; while many Salvadoreans transact their business on the street, it is gratifying to see that there are few chains present in the streets of the historic towns, other than perhaps the likes of Selectos. The baskets on the shelves of one bakery feature goods that are simply too inviting to pass over, but for the 10 ¢, the sugar flan simply costs too little to warrant changing my $10 bill.

Coffee places seem to abound, although I am on a mission to find one of the recommendations of the owner of my Airbnb. I would be happy to explore the variety of coffee establishments that appear even on brief traversal of the town, but my stay here is so short, it doesn’t seem worth it. And then I just don’t seem to enjoy drinking coffee that much anymore anyway.

Bourbon Coffee Roasters, a block or so from the plaza, seems like a good choice, certainly given the formal tasting taking place in the small, somewhat stylish cafe, a man studiously taking sips from a half dozen cups of coffee laid out in a row, then spitting out the small quantities of coffee he tries from each cup, a photographer and videographer tracking his every move. I enjoy a simple espresso, strong, clean and floral, before moving on to explore the area of the plaza.

On one side of the plaza, a small market area sells touristic claptrap, arts and crafts of minor importance and to some extent related to the country. Next to the plaza, a larger restaurant, with two workers eager to press menus into the hands of passing visitors. I completely ignore them, which provokes dismissive looks from some of the locals present. The general setting is pleasant, mildly interesting, but with little to garner interest that any other setting in the country couldn’t offer, without any degree of pretense.

On to the bus stand to explore some of the neighboring towns, although given that it is almost 4 pm, perhaps I should limit my foray to the town closest by, Salcoatitán. Navigating the Ruta de los Flores is hardly much of an ordeal, considering that the buses travel up and down the route almost continuously. My enthusiastic conversation with the Spanish-German couple on the bus is cut short by our arrival in Salcoatitán, which consists of nothing of nothing more than three odd city blocks radiating out from the central square.

As with Juayúa, the town seems somewhat too pretty for its own good, but not authentically so, with few locals visible on the streets or the central square, a few visual vignettes available here and there, with little sense of authentic local life beyond the occasional tourist establishment looking to earn a minor amount from selling coffee, pastries, and in the case of the small enclave on one side of the plaza, local food specialties, most of which include yucca dishes. Salcoatitán’s name in Nahuatl means “place between snakes and quetzals”, and offers its traditional cuisine in the town square, as well as decorative murals on public walls and galleries with crafts made of wicker, fabrics, and dyed blankets.

Unfortunately, I am experiencing stomach cramps, and am beginning to realize that despite repeatedly dismissing the possibility of getting a stomach infection from eating contaminated food, that seems to be exactly what has happened to me, a problem that has been growing over the last few days.

The Rosetta Cafe seems like a good place to spend some time and chat with the young locals who are wiling away the afternoon seated on stools in front of the busy kiosk, the interior a tumble of colourful chairs and tables, Bob Marley blaring from the speakers, a fitting choice, given that it was his birthday yesterday. We extoll the virtues of Salvadorean food, expressing appreciation for the beautiful countryside that happens to harbour some of the country’s top coffee, the quality of which is sufficiently clear from the espresso I am drinking, but again, probably not the best choice to really discover the subtleties of local beans. Time passes as we chat, although it’s not as there are any great options for this part of the day – I am not feeling particularly well, so won’t be trying any of the local food, there isn’t much more to see in the town, and my home base for the moment is just around the corner.

The wait for the bus to Juayúa is short, and I am soon back in town, wandering along the dusking streets, the pretty eateries open to the street, the bakeries still plying their sweet wares, the small shops mostly closed, and closer to the main square, Selectos as busy as always. With bags of groceries in hand but little content or inspiration for the evening, I may as well settle on a handful of pupusas, uninspiring but inexpensive, followed by a comfortable evening in my airconditioned room, my writing enhanced by a touch of good local rum …