I flew into San Salvador knowing that most travel advice warned me to exercise a high degree of caution, due to the threat of violent crime. So, to make sure that I didn’t get off to a bad start, I went directly from the airport to the beach.

El Salvador is the smallest country in Central America, but the surf culture is big and growing. With right-hand world class point breaks, found all along the coastline, those wanting to ride such waves aren’t really the types worried about danger. Then, out of the pages of traveler’s Hell, my flight touched down.

Before arriving, I picked a hotel on the Pacific Ocean, at Playa El Pimental. It offered airport transportation. They asked me to send them my arrival time and flight number. I did. They wrote back saying they had someone willing to transport me for $35.00. I agreed.

I sent a follow up message, before my flight. I heard nothing. I checked my phone, on arrival, to see where I was to meet their driver. During my flight, the hotel had messaged that they did not offer transport and suggested I hire a taxi. I went with Uber and finding a driver took a while, a really long while.

By the time the Uber finally arrived, it was almost dark. So much for staying safe. He pulled out of the airport and we began the thirty five minute drive. Into the dark, we headed down roads, slowed for speed bumps, and then up other roads. When he finally turned onto the main beach road, a pickup truck, with several people standing in the back, was now in front of us.

The truck had to come to complete stops, every time we arrived at a bump. It was now pitch black. When we reached the final curve, the truck pulled over and we were finally able to pass. An hour and a half later, I arrived at the hotel.

The property looked like something out of Frontierland, at a Disney theme park. I checked in and learned that my room had been upgraded. I now had two queen sized beds, a formal sitting area, and full balcony. There was a midsize refrigerator, on the balcony, stocked with cold drinks.

My room was up one flight of stairs, just behind the caged monkeys. The cages for birds on the property were kept opened, during certain periods of the day. The complimentary breakfast was served on the beach patio. The gang of dogs hanging out on the sand or in the restaurant were the best part of my beach stay.

When I was ready to leave, I learned that there was no way out of the beach hotel. The front desk said there wasn’t enough of a signal to reach Uber. They called me a cab, at almost triple the price, to take me the 35 minutes back to the airport.

Once there, I hired an Uber to take me the hour’s drive to my San Salvador hotel. The barbed wire, along the wall of the building, was a nice touch. The front door was locked, at all times, and you had to get someone (using a key) to let you in or out.

The following day, the guy at the hotel’s front desk waited with me, at the main door, until I was safely inside the Uber taking me downtown. My first stop was to find pupusas. It’s the national dish and arguably the most popular food in El Salvador.

I basically got out of the Uber and walked half a block, then turned left. A man was outside a restaurant, directing people to go inside. There were two women making pupusas, in the front archway! I immediately went in and ordered. Never would I ever have believed that I would eat a pupusas, while singing “Dream Weaver” by Gary Wright, in San Salvador.

On March 24 1980, a car stopped outside the Church of the Divine Providence. A man got out of the car and balanced his rifle on the door. Inside the church, El Salvador’s archbishop, Oscar Arnulfo Romero, was saying mass. The man outside fired one shot. The archbishop’s killer was never caught. Visiting the church was at the top of my list.

Leaving the church, I crossed the street and walked around The Plaza Gerardo Barrios. There were police officers and military personnel deep in friendly conversations with locals. At one point, military personnel marched out of the National Palace and began doing drills. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere safer.

After watching some locals feeding pigeons, I walked around a few blocks and noticed a few shops with someone out front holding a rifle. There were also one or two police officers standing on certain street corners. I called it a day and took an Uber back to my hotel.

Surfing aside (and as all true Veronica Mars fans know, Charlie Don’t Surf), I could have spent more time at the beach hotel or made my way to some other well known surf site. But, on this trip, I really wanted to see San Salvador. I picked a hotel with lots of security and nearby food options. Uber Eats also delivers, if you don’t want to go out. I had no issues with walking around the neighborhood and felt perfectly safe.

Plus… everyone I met in San Salvador was fantastic! I really liked the city. But, this blog is GhettoGirlTravels. So, go, if you how to handle yourself! If not, catch a wave and enjoy the beach! XOXO—GGT