by Roz
After Layla had finished blogging, I’d finished my beer(s) and we had soaked up enough of the ambience of the lovely main square, we went off in search of dinner. We contemplated a number of options, all of which looked good – but exceptionally quiet. Having been informed by the guidebooks that Salvadorians eat early, we couldn’t quite work out whether this was due to Christmas holidays or a faux pas in terms of our timing. We therefore decided to mooch back through the lovely cobbled streets to our very fancy hotel for even fancier cocktails and food. And once we’d consumed our first two mohitos in a little courtyard with lots of fairy lights and a couple of water features, we were clear we’d made the right call. We were, however, less certain when a group of musicians appeared; Layla and I are not what one would describe as musical at the best of times. But, in fact, the musicians were very good and all in all it was very jolly. The food was good too – even if not especially Salvadorian.
Alas even the combination of food, cocktails and music couldn’t keep us up late – jet lag called us to bed at an unfashionably early hour. But as we went to bed, we consoled ourselves we were making the right decision, since we would need our strength for hiking the next day. And the next day, even after a very good night’s sleep, the fear of what was to come was certainly the reason why we consumed a number of delicious fluffy pancakes for breakfast…
We then rolled out onto the street to be collected by our guide (the American ex pat we met yesterday) – and his Salvadorean wife - in a pick-up truck. We were off for a hike in Cinquera Park, an aspiring national park which is currently run by a collective of enthusiasts lobbying for national park status. The 40-minute journey passed very pleasantly with me asking nerdy questions about the Government, the justice system, taxes and so forth. We also established during the ride that our hike could take one of two routes – and that which route we took would depend on our levels of fitness and enthusiasm. Since one involved getting to a look-out point at the top of the park (and, being uphill, was harder), I naturally resolved that this would be the option we would follow and, when we got there, set off at a determined pace. Amusingly the hike turned out to be really quite undaunting, and we kept up easily with the local guide from the park. Our ex-pat guide and his wife had a little more trouble and Layla and I had to work hard not to look back at them smugly as we strode forth. The route turned out to be very pretty and the view from the top was very pleasing – great vistas over volcanoes and the lake. The park itself was interesting both from the perspective of nature and history – since it had been used as a base during the civil war in the 1980s. (We were told a long tale about the naming of a base there, which was mainly pleasing / funny because the American ex-pat guide tried (not very successfully) to lesbianise the anecdote for our benefit.) Our route down had the really rather wonderful added benefit of a waterfall and pool, which we bathed in.
By the time we got to the bottom, lunch was all I could think of. The plan to drive to the nearby hostel / restaurant seemed to be foiled by an inconveniently parked car blocking our truck’s exit. Layla and I settled ourselves on a wall and watched whilst the local guides / ex-pat guide / random others debated how to solve the issue. With impressive resolve and enthusiasm, a solution was identified: to lift the parked car and move it out of the way. Ingenious. And, unlikely though it seemed at the time, successful. This accomplished, we drove off to the restaurant where we consumed a pleasing meal of eggs, rice and beans, washed down with beers and an explanation of how the civil war began (more nerdiness on my part).
Lunch over, we pottered around the town, and saw numerous bits of war memorabilia. I have to say that I’m not quite sure how I’d feel about my town having the remnants of a helicopter on a plinth outside the local church (the latter sporting a mural about their murdered archbishop)… but it was certainly interesting. Our guide then said that he’d heard that a butterfly farm had just opened in the town. It was clear that this was something exciting and so Layla and I therefore made excited and enthusiastic faces. We headed towards the farm, only to see the people in charge of the farm clearly on their way home for the day. Our guide persuaded them to open up for us, and Layla and I prepared ourselves to look impressed / interested at appropriate moments. In fact, it did turn out to be an interesting – and very sweet - place. They also kept iguanas, which I found fascinating (not least because I had, to Layla’s great amusement, always assumed that iguanas were furry mammals). The butterflies were good too, and Layla bobbed round trying to take photos, whilst my focus was rather more prosaic – avoiding the faux pas of stepping on a butterfly. That rather jolly tour at an end, we started off home.
Our journey home was not without excitement mind you. We stopped off at a dry waterfall – apparently made out of hexagonal pieces of basalt from a volcanic eruption, which is exciting because there are only five in the world, or some such. We climbed down a reasonably mild cliff and admired the really rather remarkable natural phenomenon. From there we climbed back on to flat land…to find that if we looked one way we could see the dry waterfall, and if we looked the other, there was a superb view of the large and beautiful lake which we saw a tiny bit of yesterday. Pleasing.
Very happy with our day’s activities we drove back to Suchitito. And I entirely deny any stiffness or tiredness now, as I sit in the hotel bar with a beer and type. To acknowledge stiffness would suggest that we were challenged by the hike. And of course that’s not admissible…
Thursday 30 December 2010
Tuesday 28 December 2010
In which Layla and Roz embark on an adventure to El Salvador, face down a nocturnal predator, and indulge in many drinks
by Layla
Deciding where to go on holiday for us often involves flicking through our Lonely Planet coffeetable book of every country in the world, and making a selection based on the recommended months to visit, and whether it sounds cool. When Roz came up with El Salvador, I was unconvinced, but the months were right, the war was over, and its claim of being the least visited country in Central America was just too tempting. We booked the flights and ordered the one guidebook that's available for the country. And decided to fly into El Salvador and out of neighbouring Nicaragua, for no particular reason except that we could and it sounded fun. And is the second least visited country in Central America.
With snow closing Heathrow Airport days before our flight, we thought we might be doomed, so it was with glee that we boarded the plane and zoomed across the planet to the delights of Central America.
We arrived last night in trepidation; I had heard too many tales of the complicated nature of San Salvador airport and had braced myself for an hour of customs and passport horrors. In fact there was a short queue, nothing to pay, a quick stamp in our passports, and we were sent on our way. I felt cheated of my stress! We stepped out into the arrivals hall only to find that our hotel transfer was not there (probably because our flight had been revoltingly delayed by one and a half hours). As we stood looking confusedly around, a taxi tout appeared. He asked us if we wanted a taxi; we explained we were waiting for a driver whom we could not find. Said man then called the hotel for us, established the driver ought to be here but was not, and he found us a comfortable big taxi at a fair cost. He was very sweet and I felt fairly confident that if our driver had been there, the tout would have led us to him, rather than trying to poach our business. Soon we were speeding efficiently towards our first destination: Suchitoto.
It was quite a long drive: over an hour in the dark, through the capital and into the hills. Finally, having been travelling now for about 21 hours, we staggered exhaustedly out of the taxi to be greeted by Pascal, former French ambassador, designer, and owner of El Salvador's poshest boutique hotel, Los Almendros de San Lorenzo. After the delights of the posh hotel in Beirut, we have forged a new tradition of spending the first few nights of our holiday somewhere glamorous, and when Pascal greeted us with 'Welcome to Paradise', we knew we had chosen well. We were shown across a courtyard and past a swimming pool to our room... or should I say apartment. It's over two floors, with beautiful, contemporary design, high ceilings, private veranda overlooking Lake Suchitlan, and absolutely fit the bill for 'somewhere glamorous'. We dropped our bags and returned to the bar to sip excellent mohitos before retiring exhaustedly to bed.
I fell straight asleep, but Roz was not so lucky. I was awoken an hour later by a trembling voice. "Layla... I think there's someone in the room... or a rat..." I rubbed my eyes, rather disbelievingly. Like a brave girl I got out of bed and shouted "hello?", ran down the stairs, put on all the lights. "Nope, nobody here!" I shouted reassuringly. In response, a shriek. I leapt back up the stairs, only to see something flying straight towards my head. A bat! I'm afraid my response was to shriek too, dive into bed, and put the covers over my head, where Roz was already cowering. Hmmm a predicament. I really had no idea what to do with a bat, so it was clear that external assistance was required. In terror I got out of bed and tried to call reception, but the phone didn't work. Then Roz, like a hero, got out of bed and went to find some hotel staff. The reception was deserted. But then she spotted a man wandering around the grounds who seemed to be staff, and decided he would have to rescue us. Which he duly did. My description of 'una rata... negro...' and flapping my arms descriptively made him fear for what he was about to encounter. Fortunately, the bat made another appearance, flapping wildly. Roz and I shrieked on cue and shot downstairs, abandoning the man to his fate. Fortunately he rather efficiently disposed of the beast, and we returned to bed, adrenaline pulsing. We really aren't as intrepid as we like to believe!
Up too early this morning with jetlag, we indulged in a glorious breakfast at the hotel, including fresh orange juice, fresh fruit salad, banana pancakes, tea and coffee, eaten in a pretty outside courtyard. And then we ventured out into the quaint cobbled streets of Suchitoto. It is a very sweet little town of art galleries, cafes, a market, and a central square with a big church. We wandered around a little, then headed off on the 1.5km walk downhill to Lake Suchitlan, pausing for a drink at a cafe overlooking the lake. Which was our first introduction to liguados, delicious fruit drinks that I suspect will become a staple. We walked past lots of pretty little houses, most with stencils on their outside walls stating that there was no violence towards women in that house - presumably a campaign, and rather a nice one. Onwards we walked til we reached the lake, and hired a boat and boatman to take us round the lake - very picturesque and serene. Afterwards I topped up my liguado habit, and Roz sampled the local beer, Pilsener. We vaguely thought of walking back up the steep and untempting hill to Suchitoto, but the delightful appearance of a local bus tempted me too much. Grabbing a reluctant Roz, we hopped aboard and were back in Suchitoto ten minutes later, along with a large number of the local population.
Lunchtime! We proceeded to a recommended restaurant owned by 'Gringo' Robert, a US expat, who gave us the local delicacy, pupusas (delicious), two chimichangas, some nachos, some beer... and lots of advice. He also runs a tour company and we arranged a tour tomorrow, which seems to involve climbing up a very mountain and learning about the civil war. My legs hurt at the thought of it...
After lunch we returned to our room for a nap, then had planned to go for a swim. Roz was brave but the water was icy and I just couldn't manage it. After I had bee pathetic for a while, hovering by the water, she emerged and we both got dressed and returned to the main square where we have settled ourselves with beer and liguado in Artex Cafe, complete with Wifi, to watch the world go by and indulge in a little preprandial blogging.
We haven't seen another British person yet, and couldn't be happier!
Deciding where to go on holiday for us often involves flicking through our Lonely Planet coffeetable book of every country in the world, and making a selection based on the recommended months to visit, and whether it sounds cool. When Roz came up with El Salvador, I was unconvinced, but the months were right, the war was over, and its claim of being the least visited country in Central America was just too tempting. We booked the flights and ordered the one guidebook that's available for the country. And decided to fly into El Salvador and out of neighbouring Nicaragua, for no particular reason except that we could and it sounded fun. And is the second least visited country in Central America.
With snow closing Heathrow Airport days before our flight, we thought we might be doomed, so it was with glee that we boarded the plane and zoomed across the planet to the delights of Central America.
We arrived last night in trepidation; I had heard too many tales of the complicated nature of San Salvador airport and had braced myself for an hour of customs and passport horrors. In fact there was a short queue, nothing to pay, a quick stamp in our passports, and we were sent on our way. I felt cheated of my stress! We stepped out into the arrivals hall only to find that our hotel transfer was not there (probably because our flight had been revoltingly delayed by one and a half hours). As we stood looking confusedly around, a taxi tout appeared. He asked us if we wanted a taxi; we explained we were waiting for a driver whom we could not find. Said man then called the hotel for us, established the driver ought to be here but was not, and he found us a comfortable big taxi at a fair cost. He was very sweet and I felt fairly confident that if our driver had been there, the tout would have led us to him, rather than trying to poach our business. Soon we were speeding efficiently towards our first destination: Suchitoto.
It was quite a long drive: over an hour in the dark, through the capital and into the hills. Finally, having been travelling now for about 21 hours, we staggered exhaustedly out of the taxi to be greeted by Pascal, former French ambassador, designer, and owner of El Salvador's poshest boutique hotel, Los Almendros de San Lorenzo. After the delights of the posh hotel in Beirut, we have forged a new tradition of spending the first few nights of our holiday somewhere glamorous, and when Pascal greeted us with 'Welcome to Paradise', we knew we had chosen well. We were shown across a courtyard and past a swimming pool to our room... or should I say apartment. It's over two floors, with beautiful, contemporary design, high ceilings, private veranda overlooking Lake Suchitlan, and absolutely fit the bill for 'somewhere glamorous'. We dropped our bags and returned to the bar to sip excellent mohitos before retiring exhaustedly to bed.
I fell straight asleep, but Roz was not so lucky. I was awoken an hour later by a trembling voice. "Layla... I think there's someone in the room... or a rat..." I rubbed my eyes, rather disbelievingly. Like a brave girl I got out of bed and shouted "hello?", ran down the stairs, put on all the lights. "Nope, nobody here!" I shouted reassuringly. In response, a shriek. I leapt back up the stairs, only to see something flying straight towards my head. A bat! I'm afraid my response was to shriek too, dive into bed, and put the covers over my head, where Roz was already cowering. Hmmm a predicament. I really had no idea what to do with a bat, so it was clear that external assistance was required. In terror I got out of bed and tried to call reception, but the phone didn't work. Then Roz, like a hero, got out of bed and went to find some hotel staff. The reception was deserted. But then she spotted a man wandering around the grounds who seemed to be staff, and decided he would have to rescue us. Which he duly did. My description of 'una rata... negro...' and flapping my arms descriptively made him fear for what he was about to encounter. Fortunately, the bat made another appearance, flapping wildly. Roz and I shrieked on cue and shot downstairs, abandoning the man to his fate. Fortunately he rather efficiently disposed of the beast, and we returned to bed, adrenaline pulsing. We really aren't as intrepid as we like to believe!
Up too early this morning with jetlag, we indulged in a glorious breakfast at the hotel, including fresh orange juice, fresh fruit salad, banana pancakes, tea and coffee, eaten in a pretty outside courtyard. And then we ventured out into the quaint cobbled streets of Suchitoto. It is a very sweet little town of art galleries, cafes, a market, and a central square with a big church. We wandered around a little, then headed off on the 1.5km walk downhill to Lake Suchitlan, pausing for a drink at a cafe overlooking the lake. Which was our first introduction to liguados, delicious fruit drinks that I suspect will become a staple. We walked past lots of pretty little houses, most with stencils on their outside walls stating that there was no violence towards women in that house - presumably a campaign, and rather a nice one. Onwards we walked til we reached the lake, and hired a boat and boatman to take us round the lake - very picturesque and serene. Afterwards I topped up my liguado habit, and Roz sampled the local beer, Pilsener. We vaguely thought of walking back up the steep and untempting hill to Suchitoto, but the delightful appearance of a local bus tempted me too much. Grabbing a reluctant Roz, we hopped aboard and were back in Suchitoto ten minutes later, along with a large number of the local population.
Lunchtime! We proceeded to a recommended restaurant owned by 'Gringo' Robert, a US expat, who gave us the local delicacy, pupusas (delicious), two chimichangas, some nachos, some beer... and lots of advice. He also runs a tour company and we arranged a tour tomorrow, which seems to involve climbing up a very mountain and learning about the civil war. My legs hurt at the thought of it...
After lunch we returned to our room for a nap, then had planned to go for a swim. Roz was brave but the water was icy and I just couldn't manage it. After I had bee pathetic for a while, hovering by the water, she emerged and we both got dressed and returned to the main square where we have settled ourselves with beer and liguado in Artex Cafe, complete with Wifi, to watch the world go by and indulge in a little preprandial blogging.
We haven't seen another British person yet, and couldn't be happier!
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