Alone in El Salvador: My Second Solo Trip!

My Second Solo Trip!

I left for El Salvador on Friday the 13th, which honestly feels dramatic in hindsight. The flight wasn’t long, just slightly uncomfortable because I was stuck in the middle seat and my knees were pressed into the seat in front of me in a way that felt personal, but I fall asleep on planes like it’s a personality trait so I knocked out and it wasn’t terrible. Before I went, I had seen everywhere online that you’re supposed to pay $12 for a visitor’s card when you land, so I had my money ready and was mentally prepared, but when I got there no one asked me for anything and I walked straight through customs like I belonged there. I had booked a driver through Tunco Life Tour Agency to take me to the coast, and when I got in the car I realized he didn’t speak any English at all, which was completely fine because I actually prefer when people don’t switch to English for me. It forces me to try. The ride was about an hour, and instead of letting it be awkward silence I just started asking him a bunch of yes or no questions in Spanish so we could interact a little bit. At first he actually answered the way I expected, short and simple, but eventually he completely went off script and started responding with long, detailed explanations, and I very quickly stopped understanding what he was saying. I just kept nodding like I was fully fluent and hoping the conversation didn’t require a follow-up question.

A Warm Welcome

When I pulled up to my hostel, Sunzal Surf Garden, I immediately felt like I had walked into someone else’s established friend group. There were people outside playing beer pong, music going, everyone already in conversation, and within the first few minutes I realized I was the only Black girl there. Nothing was wrong, no weird energy, but you do notice when you’re the only one. I checked in and the owner only spoke Spanish, which I loved, but that’s also when we realized my payment wasn’t showing up in their system even though I know I paid the invoice days before. I explained that as best as I could and she was super calm about it and told me we’d check again the next day, which eased my anxiety a little. I stayed in an eight-bed all-girls dorm and chose a top bunk because the bottom ones didn’t allow you to sit up at all and I need space to exist. After putting my stuff away, I went into the common area and just sat on the couch scrolling on my phone trying to look occupied because everyone seemed clicked up already and I felt a little intimidated. About five minutes later, a guy named Sam from Southern California introduced himself, and that small interaction honestly broke the ice for me because after that it felt easier to just talk to whoever was around. That’s one thing I really love about hostels. You meet people from everywhere, and within minutes you’re exchanging life stories. Some are there for a quick weekend, others have been traveling for months, and you just drop into each other’s timelines for a second.

Later that night I met a man at the hostel bar who immediately caught my attention because he ordered his drink in the strongest country accent I’ve heard in a while. He was from Oklahoma, owned a pawn shop, and it was his first time staying in a hostel. He said he just wanted some adventure, which I respected. We talked over two cubatas for about an hour before the hostel announced they were heading to Kakos Gastrobar in El Tunco to party. I had to change clothes first, and when we were deciding how to get there we debated taking his rental car versus calling an Uber, and I genuinely had a moment where I thought, why am I even considering getting into a car with a man I met an hour ago in a foreign country? Vacation brain really loosens logic, but we ended up getting the Uber, which was only a few dollars anyway. Kakos was exactly my type of place because people were actually dancing, not just standing around pretending to have fun. I met so many people that night, but I could not tell you a single name and honestly that feels fitting. I lost my pawn shop friend within the first hour, found him again briefly, then lost him once more when I went to dance and never saw him after that. That feels like the purest example of hostel life. You connect intensely for a few hours and then it dissolves. I got back around 2am with one of my roommates whose name I never caught either.

Coffee, Pupusas & Cafe Albania

The next morning, instead of just sitting on the beach like I originally planned, I decided to book a last-minute tour to Café Albania, the Ruta de las Flores in Ataco, and the thermal hot springs. I woke up at 6am for my pickup, only for them to be delayed because someone didn’t show up, which meant I could’ve slept longer, but it was fine. While waiting, I walked down to the beach, which was literally a minute away and completely empty, and just stood there taking it in before the long day ahead. When my driver Chamba finally arrived, I somehow fell into a hole almost immediately upon meeting him and he helped me out, so from that moment we were locked in. I sat in the front seat of the van and tried not to be boring, making conversation whenever I wasn’t dozing off, but I didn’t anticipate how long we’d spend picking up other passengers. It felt like forever before we even started heading toward our first stop. We eventually stopped at a gas station that had tamales, and I ordered entirely in Spanish without using my translation app, which felt like a small but significant win for me.

Café Albania was just as fun and chaotic as it looks online. The rainbow slide is included in the tour, but what they don’t emphasize is that it’s basically two slides and the second one is much steeper than you expect. They offer to record you for $10, and I’m glad I paid for it because there’s no way I could’ve managed the tube and my phone at the same time. It’s also a serious hike back up afterward, which no one really prepares you for. After that we drove to Ataco, where Chamba took us to what he said was the best pupusa spot, and I had my first one there along with churrasco. Everything was so good that I already knew I’d be ordering more pupusas before the trip ended. I stopped at a coffee shop and debated whether I should risk coffee while staying at a hostel with bathrooms that weren’t exactly luxurious, but I ordered a carajillo anyway because it’s my current favorite and it did not disappoint. The hot springs were the final stop, and they had fourteen pools ranging from ice cold to almost too hot to handle. It was a relaxing way to end what felt like a very long day, although it really did feel like half of it was spent in a car. While I was there, the hostel messaged saying the water had cut off, and I started mentally preparing to figure out another place to stay, but by the time I got back it was on again. The showers, however, were cold the entire time I was there and apparently that’s just normal.

That night I met another Black girl at the hostel and noticed she was trying to figure out food options, so I invited her to Uber into town with me. Her name was Jordan, and I only learned that because I overheard her introducing herself to someone else earlier. She was from DC.We went to El Compa Tacos, met the owner who told us he originally came to El Salvador for three days and ended up staying and building a business for himself, and we tried birria pupusas that were honestly incredible. Afterward we debated going out again but decided we were exhausted and headed back, and just like that, I never saw her again either.

El Zonte, High Tide & Trusting Myself

The next morning, Sam from Southern California and a girl from Switzerland convinced me to walk along the beach to El Tunco for breakfast instead of Ubering like I had been doing. Romantic is not the word. It was more like an endurance challenge across giant boulders in intense heat. It looked scenic in theory, but in practice it was sweaty, awkward, and slightly painful. We ate at Nómada where I ordered an iced coffee, fully aware of the risks, and a tostada gringo that was essentially elevated avocado toast with egg and bacon. After breakfast, I wandered around alone for a bit before heading to Captain Cook’s because my tour guide had insisted their ceviche was worth it. While I was eating, a group of Portuguese men sat next to me and kept emphasizing that one of them was a very famous surfer. They repeated it enough times that I felt like I was supposed to be impressed, but I know nothing about surfing and had zero context, so I just nodded politely and focused on my ceviche, which was actually the star of that moment anyway.

After I finished eating, I Ubered to El Zonte Beach because I was determined to see the caves. The drive was about thirty minutes, and when I arrived it felt completely different from El Tunco. Way quieter, more open, almost cinematic. It was high tide though, and the caves weren’t safely accessible yet, so I sat on the sand alone, listening to music and letting myself just be still for a while. Eventually, a man approached me and told me I was beautiful and offered me food. I declined at first, then accepted, then made sure to ask enough questions to feel safe when he invited me to meet his friends. I asked how many women were in the group. One. Good enough. They were locals from San Salvador, they didn’t speak English, but they were kind and enthusiastic about helping me get to the caves once it was safe. Climbing across rocks and jumping small gaps was slightly terrifying, but it was the exact kind of spontaneous adventure I had hoped for. Watching the sunset from there felt earned. Shoutout to Walter for making this happen, I will never forget you!

On my last night at the hostel, I found myself in a circle with a group of Germans who switched to English just to include me in the conversation, which I appreciated more than they probably realized. After everyone drifted off, I laid in a hammock listening to the waves in the distance and just felt grateful. This was only my second solo trip, and I could feel the difference in myself. I wasn’t as intimidated. I wasn’t overthinking every interaction. I was just there, fully present, letting things unfold the way they were meant to.

Until next time, El Salvador. xoxo