Travelling - Lago Coatepeque, El Salvador

Lago Coatepeque, El Salvador

El Salvador is so small, poor and crime-infested that almost no foreigners visit the country, bar Peace Corps volunteers and Christian missionaries. But those who dare are rewarded with the friendliest encounters and the least tourist-ridden landscapes of Central America. First though, they must overlook the country's dangerous reputation – unfortunately a deserved one, since the street gangs of El Salvador are among the toughest and most ruthless of the continent.
Nonetheless, ordinary Salvadoreans are hard-working, hospitable and congenial people. Despite the widespread poverty and the scars of the devastating 1980's civil war, they find the faith to carry on, perhaps inspired by the name of their land, "El Salvador" (Spanish for "the Savior"). They are truly the redeeming feature of a country with few real tourist attractions.
On my first weekend there, I escaped San Salvador, its choking traffic, crumbling concrete, barbed-wire fences and armed security guards, to explore Lago Coatepeque, a lake in a volcanic crater a couple of hours away. Ignoring horrified warnings about traveling alone, I hopped onto a bus and started enjoying myself straight away.
Public buses are former American school buses, painted blazing colors and adorned with religious stickers ("God bless this trip"). Reggaeton blares over the roar of the engine. At every stop, shouting vendors climb aboard to sell water, fruits and sweets, pushing their way between whole families squeezed onto the seats. On that trip, the passenger next to me was so honored to meet a Frenchwoman - for the first time! - that he shook my hand and warmly welcomed me to his country.
After a couple of hours of nondescript highway, the bus turned up a wooded slope, climbed a ridge, then rolled down a winding road and I was treated to a spectacular vista. The lake's perfect lapis-lazuli circle was hemmed in by the scrub-covered walls of the extinct volcano Cerro Verde. Piers jutted out onto the water from a scattering of tiny lakeside houses, presumably the second homes of well-heeled Salvadoreans.
At the end of the road, the bus dropped me off in a cloud of dust, and I strolled down to the shore between weeping willows. There, a woman knee-deep in the water was scrubbing clothes, while three men pulled in a fishing net. It was a peaceful, quiet morning. Suddenly, a dozen women wearing white kerchiefs on their heads waded into the water, fully clothed, behind two men in white shirts, and stood in a row.
The man at the end of the line briefly immersed the first woman, tilting her backwards, then started chanting while a larger group which had remained on the shore sang and clapped hands. "They are being baptized," explained a young man standing next to me. "We are a Baptist group from Santa Ana." While El Salvador remains a stronghold of Catholicism, Protestant churches have made some spectacular inroads, like in other parts of Latin America. I snapped some photos of the baptism, then shot some individual portraits of several participants, who gracefully posed. "Gracias," even said one lady, actually thanking me for photographing her.
Once the ceremony was over, I wandered off to a hostel with its own wooden pier. The rest of the day I spent dipping in the lovely cool water, sunbathing in a deck chair and drinking fresh lemonade. Jet skis zoomed back and forth. Families chatted under parasols on the jetty of the next-door restaurant. The sun slowly sank behind the peak of the Santa Ana volcano, sending oblique rays skidding on the surface. The next morning, I swam again, before the tourist boats started plying the area, chatted with the owner of the hostel and a couple of other travelers, just enjoying the weekend. I could easily have spent a full week chilling there.
Instead, it was already time to make my way back to the city. But on the connecting bus back, the fare collector did not have enough change to accept my five-dollar bill for the 35-cents ride. Without my asking anything, the elderly gentleman sitting next to me paid my fare, waved away the banknote I tried to hand him, and accepted my effusive thanks with a huge toothless smile. When he got off, he gave me a big wave through the window. I felt as though he had just knocked on my heart and, with that gesture, El Salvador had just won me over.



URL=El Savador