Let me tell you about a very interesting conversation with a stranger…
Where to begin?
As I’ve said before, I hate traveling, but I love going places. For this reason, I tend to spend a bit of time wherever I go, make friends, get to know the place, the local cuisine and music, the cool local spots that your average tourist wouldn’t know… and so on.
For this reason, I’ve made a bit of a home here in El Salvador in a wonderful place run by an amazing dueña , have met all kinds of interesting, beautiful people who have also found their way here. We’re all here for the sunshine, the waves, the tranquilidad, the privacy and security and the sense of being a witness to history.
I’ve made a couple of good friends and a few pleasant connections. The sense of gratitude is palpable; I thank God with every sunrise and every sunset, every time I drift off to sleep listening to the waves, even every time I log in for work.
That meanders from the point of this post though. El Salvador is an interesting place to be at this juncture in history. It is probably the most optimistic country in the world, the only place where life is better today than it was ten years ago, where people believe the future will be even better.
Most of us from privileged countries take everyday life for granted. One Salvadoran told me how they used to see mutilated bodies on their way to school. Another gushed about how she and her friend were on their way home at 9 pm — and they never would have dared to be out at that time not so long ago — when the car broke down. A terrifying, dangerous situation just a few years ago becomes a happy, “I just called my husband and he came and picked us up!”
You don’t realize how bad things were and how just being able to live a free life without worry of being murdered, organ harvested, raped every time you exit the gate of your humble home… you just can’t appreciate how BIG that is.
Bukele has been criticized for a tactically brilliant operation that resulted in 80,000 bad guys getting what they deserve: prison. It perplexes me as to why anyone would regard this with anything but respect. Given the “Spy vs Spy” nature of cartels and governments here in Latin America — both sides have moles and rats — it’s amazing that they planned, trained, and executed in a way that hit the bad guys totally unaware. Military and law enforcement strategists will study what was done here for decades, maybe centuries.
The end result is that life is better for everyone. 80,000 criminals were incarcerated, but 4 million people were freed.
But the poor are still poor…
Today I met the first Salvadoran I’ve ever met who had anything bad to say about Bukele. I don’t want to dox the guy, but he’s a media personality, and I’ve seen his show.
His main point was that the poor are still poor.
“Lo mismo en todo el mundo, amigo,” I said, playing devil’s advocate, “Así es.”
He played devil’s advocate to my devil’s advocate and showed me that he is my brother in soul.
“No soy un fanático de nadie o nada.”
This was after a rant about how sick he was of everyone fawning over their president. The poor are still poor. Yeah, the rich are richer, but the poor are still poor. This guy isn’t a god. Let’s get real here. He’s just an idol, and I don’t idolize anyone.
This little rant got the noggin’ joggin’, and I realized that I’m exactly the same. “Celebrities” and sports stars and business tycoons and all the people we’re supposed to revere as gods have always made me want to pick up my guitar, crank it up to 11 and play a punk rock song that I’m writing as I play it.
Those people get up, have breakfast and take a shit like the rest of us.
Revere the unsung stars, ignore the manufactured “stars”
Some years ago, one of my proudest moments happened after a few rounds when I told a famous movie star that he was just an actor who sucked the right dick. “I know a thousand actors, dude. You want to impress me? Go undercover as a mole in a criminal organization where you die if you break character.”
The guy looked like I had just kicked him directly in the nuts, which I suppose I had in a way.
Side note: Bukele must have had a few unsung actors/moles when he managed to round up 80,000 brutal killers, not that I idolize him; I’m more impressed with the unsung ninja actors that made it possible.
Anyway, I’m really glad that I chose El Salvador and will probably come back next year if only for the sunshine and waves.
Pretty intense jump from chilly mountains to warm beach…
This is half-baked, but it’s fresh. Something compels me to get this down before it fades into memory.
Perú is a fantastic place, and I intend to return there as a dedicated tourist. My current situation is hybrid; I have a day job which I take seriously, but this job allows me a certain amount of bandwidth to explore the world (and escape miserable NYC winters) so I might as well take advantage of it.
Perú, a country bigger than Alaska and California combined and even more geologically diverse, impressed me and challenged me. I only saw a tiny little bit of it, just a few days in Lima and a couple weeks in Cuzco. Either place deserves a full-spectrum experience. Cuzco (aka “Cusco”), was especially other-worldly, though Lima was a highly enticing tease since it’s such a massive city with so much happening. The little bit I tasted, I liked a lot. Felt like a place worth spending a year or more. Lima felt comfortable, like a place where I could easily make friends and music.
Cuzco was a totally different story. Like most places in the world that survive on tourism, a cold distance, a cultural void spanning galaxies , made me feel welcome-not-welcome. Oddly, I did connect with a few locals and even met a friend who makes me want to go back. But I could never live there; too damn cold, too far away from “home,” wherever that is.
Even with a constant sense of not belonging, lingering discomfort from the altitude and cold, I developed a deep respect for the culture and power of the place. The “fashion scene” absolutely blew me away. Baby alpaca wool is the finest fabric in the world, and the clothing produced from it is exquisite. By accident, I ended up learning something about how they produce it. A quechua woman demonstrated with her own hands how they color it with natural plants that grow, impossibly, at 3000+ meters above sea level. Those colors are sublime and unique and muyhermoso.
The experience of “seeing how it’s done” drove home what I was talking about in the very first post of this version of this blog: No Logo. Quality speaks for itself. The beautiful clothing of Cuzco, with its unique, inimitable style, locally designed and sourced, locally produced, locally sold (at premium prices), is as fine as any apparel in the world. As a matter of fact, I would say that Cuzco is a fashion capital as much as Paris, New York, or Milan… more so, in fact.
It’s better when you can touch and try on.Not so colorful, but these earth tones would be high style in the autumn in NYCThe “Sydney Sweeny Has Good Genes” thing has not missed Cuzco
A Gucci label doesn’t say “quality” to me; it says “Insecure sucker who will overpay for mediocrity.” What says “quality” to me is something else. Is it beautiful? Is it natural? Does it serve its purpose (making the wearer both lovely and warm)? Is it unique? Does the soul of its creator live on through the work?
Cuzco was full of that, and I haven’t even gotten started on the ruins and other-worldly sense of civilization. In fact, I’m only going to touch on that; you can visibly see civilization being built on top of civilization for millennia in that place, in real time, in real life. The Inca told the Spanish (and this is documented) that they had built on top of an older, more advanced civilization, just as the Spanish eventually did to the Inca. To this day, nobody knows how the original stone work was done, upon which the cathedrals and elegant, non-corporate-chain hotels (and even the less classy corporate ones, the JW Marriott and whatever) were built. You can still see that stone work right in the center of town. You don’t even need to follow the tourist hordes to Machu Picchu.
See how the stones on top are not as big or perfect as the ones on bottom? See how there’s no cement? Top stones are Inca. Bottom, pre-Inca. Not shown — shitty Spanish masonry on top. Civilizations are built on top of civilizations, and for the past 3000 years or so, devolution has been the trend.
If you want to ride a horse or hike a bit, you can even see what Machu Picchu looked like before it was excavated. It’s mind-blowing. One gets the sense that once upon a time, a much bigger city existed there in the uninhabited heights.
Even with this sense of wonder, every second I spent in Cuzco, I felt a bit out of place, a bit uncomfortable, except in bed where I slept wonderfully in the cool of night, soothed by the warm embrace of heavy natural bedding.
Let’s skip to the chase, returning to El Salvador…
It was a stressful journey. I won’t bore you with the details. I traveled off the beaten path a bit, making a direct beeline from the mountainous chill and light air to the hottest place I’ve ever been, right at sea level: El Salvador.
As I write this, I’m about 10 feet above the crashing waves, in a bungalow on a cliff rooted in the beach, a cliff that will eventually succumb to the waves and become beach. It’s warm. It was hot this afternoon.
And, goddamn, it feels good!
If you’ve been following this blog, you know that my travel in Perú — wonderful and worthwhile as it was — was fraught with stress and peril. El Salvador is a totally different experience. They don’t fingerprint me on my way in (and OUT ?!?) of the country. My accommodations were graciously prepared (and I haven’t even paid for them yet, though I will, of course). The locals are warm and welcoming. I don’t have to put on shoes and socks, let alone a coat and hat.
It feels so good to be barefoot again, roasting in the sun, calmed by the rolling waves. I feel so clean, having spent some time frolicking in the salty sea. My neighbors are friendly. Oh, and I can breathe. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if I’ve already lost weight; exercise at 3100m above sea level is… burdensome.
Yeah, I’m more of a beach bum than a mountain boy, for sure. Just 24 hours ago I was gasping for breath, chasing down my ride to the airport. Now I’m chillin’ like Bob Dylan, enjoying the mating calls of geckos as a percussive enhancement to the infinite melody of waves, warm and happy as a clam. Another day, another timeline jump…
It’s not just the warmth and thick, oxygenated air that I like about El Salvador; it’s the sense of participating in history.
Not sure if I’ve mentioned that one of the more uncomfortable moments in Perú was having a cajero gobble up — for no apparent reason — my suitably funded Fidelity debit card. By the way, if you’re traveling internationally, I recommend getting that card as it waives all ATM fees and foreign transaction charges. Of course I had a backup debit card from my shitty (hint) bank. The magnetic strip on that old card had given out. It worked as tap-to-pay but wouldn’t give me cash. That kind of sucked, not having access to cash.
Since I’ll be here for the next several weeks, I thought, “Well, I’ll have Fidelity send me a replacement card.”
Then I went to the supermarket, and the moment of epiphany hit. A big, modern supermarket had a sign on the checkout line, “Aquí puede pargar con Bitcoin.”
As it turns out, I have a bit of Bitcoin dust in a wallet on my phone. I put a couple hundred bucks worth there a few years ago as an emergency measure. Turns out, it’s… uh… more than a couple hundred bucks now. I thought, “What the heck, let’s see how this works.”
It was so easy. It was so quick. It didn’t involve any bank or intermediary, just me paying the store directly, as if with cash.
Fix the money, fix the world. Yup.
At some point I realized that they have Bitcoin ATMs here. I can just get some cash with my phone, directly, without need for a bank. Suffice to say, I will wait until I return to ‘Mairka to get a replacement for the inexplicably devoured Fidelity debit card. Bitcoin works here, and I have a bit, as it turns out.
That got me thinking about Bukele and El Salvador (“The Savior”). It wouldn’t surprise me if El Salvador ended up being the Singapore of the Americas. It’s a very similar situation.
If you look at Singapore today, you would never believe that just 75 years ago it was a poor, crime-ridden backwater. Now it is a clean, modern, multi-cultural powerhouse, a great innovator in finance, a beacon of prosperity.
Why? Lee Kwon Yoo. He cleaned up the crime, made bold moves in terms of commercial/financial innovation, and turned Singapore into what it is today. He was called a despot and a dictator by The New York Slimes and all the usual suspects, but the proof’s in the puddin’, darlin’. Results speak for themselves, not unlike quality.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not talking about cosmetics, here. I hope that El Salvador doesn’t go so far as making chewing gum illegal.
There is a lot of hope here, and if Bukele plays his cards right, El Salvador could become a small-but-mighty beacon of prosperity in the Americas, as is Singapore to our eastern counterparts.
I know that el Presidente has more important things to do than read this blog, but if I were to advise Bukele, I would say the key is in education and continued innovation. Of course the bankers will apply pressure to kill Bitcoin and other substantial financial evolution. Play their game a little bit but not too much. Most importantly, invest in education. A small country’s greatest resource is its people.
There are plenty of folks like me who share a vision of peace and prosperity, a lot more of us than there are of “them,” the criminal parasites who once had their boots on the neck of the little nation in which I currently find myself.
OK. That’s enough. I’m tired of staring at this screen. Time to watch the full moon rise and enjoy the splendor of nature.
I really love El Salvador and wish the greatest success upon her and the world, and I hope to return to Perú one day as a full-time tourist.
Peace, Chuck
I’ll take this bungalow over just about any mansion in the US
A lot of you know that I’m mostly uncomfortable with putting my personal business out there on the Internet; it’s one of the reasons I don’t do “social media.” Yeah, if you go back and look at this blog over the past 20 years, you will find posts where I show my whole ass, but it’s usually in relation to some global event or trend. Right now, i have no idea what’s going on in the world. I came across something about a shooting in Australia or something but didn’t look into it and don’t care, frankly. RIP to the victims, “thoughts and prayers,” whatever…
Anyway, this is feeling like a public diary entry, and that’s apropos to the topic at hand: the battle between introversion and extroversion, between chillin’ like Bob Dylan on an exclusive private beach or wilin’ out on a public beach with the hoi polloi. What follows is a bit personal but potentially of interest to the general public so here goes:
I’m posting this from a private beach, the nicest beach I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve seen some nice ones. I’m here 24/7, vibing to the sound of the waves. I put my feet in the moist, black volcanic sand and play in the surf whenever I want, and the water temperature is perfect. I’ve not seen one piece of garbage in the water. The surf is better than I’ve seen anywhere, not a single rock, even a nice, smooth round one that bumps but doesn’t gash you should you catch a wave and eat earth at the end of your ride. A wonderful breakfast arrives as if by magic each morning. There are exotic and lovely flowers and birds. Only a few lucky people share this beach; it’s private, exclusive.
But that’s the problem. I think I prefer the social beach experience. All those days at Coromuel in La Paz were so… social. I met people, normal people, working people and befriended some of them. There was music. There was food (that I didn’t cook and wasn’t served to me on a schedule). It was free, wide open to the public and inclusive, not fancy or “elite” in any way, but a breathtakingly beautiful beach open to everyone nevertheless.
The “problem” I’m facing here in El Salvador after one week is that I’m experiencing exclusivity… and not really liking it even though this beach is objectively superior to the private beach at the Ritz in Kapalua — and a hell of a lot less expensive.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not complaining, just thinking. My gratitude is boundless. It’s just that this is a new experience for me and one that is both perfectly aligned with the introverted “twin” who is happy to read and write and contemplate his navel for days on end while anathema to the extroverted “twin” who happily presses the flesh with billionaires and hobos alike. It’s tough out here for a Gemini, man. We’re always at home and never at home.
Intuition informs me that I’m going to make incredible friends here… but how do I meet them? Are they lurking in the few other bungalows and haciendas enjoying this very experience, or do I need to venture out to other, more publicly available beaches? There seem to be plenty within a mile or two.
The wrath of my own independence bears down as well. I’m not generally susceptible to loneliness, preferring my own company most of the time, yet willing to take others along for the ride or to ride with them. But I’m really feeling the lack of a companion right now, like all of this would be better with a best friend, confidant, and lover. I suppose this is a result of ending a 20+ year partnership recently. Then again, if she were here, she’d be annoying me, killing my buzz, and ruining it for me as usual so… growing pains? A necessary respite from guaranteed company? A chance to reconnect with myself in a profound way? I’ll go with that.
It has only been a week, but I haven’t made a single friend other than the dueña. This is probably the longest I’ve ever gone in my life without bringing a single person into my orbit. It’s a little strange, but I’ll just go with it for now.
We’ll end it on a positive note: I have been writing, cooking yummy food, playing my guitar, and flowing nicely at my day job. 24/7 wave action does that to a person, no matter how thick or jovial the crowd.
Upon officially completing my first 24 hours in this lovely little country, I just wanted to record my initial thoughts. As some of you know, I have spent the past five winters in La Paz, Mexico. I have made many great friends in La Paz and regard it as one of my favorite places in the world so it was a tough call to forsake it this year in favor of new adventures. Initially, my plan was to head for Santa Marta, Colombia which I have been told is sort of the La Paz of Colombia: a small city that is a bit off the radar, having a vibrant music, art and culinary scene and surrounded by incredible natural beauty. Santa Marta is also reputed to be a sailing mecca, like La Paz, and sailing is probably the thing I most love to do; either that or making music, anyway… It seemed like a good call. More on my second thoughts later…
To be quite frank, I’m more or less done with big cities. If I’m going to live in a city, it’s going to be a small, culturally vibrant city where I can visit a friend on the other side of town in 15 minutes. Either that, or I’m going to live in New York, my home. Spending the past two weeks in Denver confirmed that large non-NYC cities are not for me. Denver is a cool city, and people whom I love live there, but I just hate having to hop in a car and drive 20 minutes in traffic to fetch a loaf of bread. The near total lack of pedestrians who are not homeless crackheads turns me off, but absolute dependence on a car for every stupid little thing is just… not my bag.
If I’m going to be dependent on a car, I’m going to live in the woods and only drive into town once a week for supplies. Yeah, I’m weird. Proudly so. Small, energetic cities like Sevilla, Spain, La Paz, Mexico, Ithaca, NY and many others float my boat. Highwayland is not my native land.
Anyhoo…
Santa Marta seemed to fit the bill as a small city with a rich cultural life and proximity to nature, but security concerns kept me away. A lot of Venezuelans live there, and it is close to Venezuela. I’m sure it’s as safe as La Paz in normal times, but it seems that some animosity toward Americans might be present with the USA sinking and seizing boats while threatening to invade the country right next door. Apparently, kidnapping is an issue there in normal times (it is in parts of Mexico too but can be avoided easily), and I’m not crazy about the idea of being kidnapped by some Latin American cult/gang and tortured for more money than I have. Being judged/hated for being a gringo, while understandable, was part of the reason I avoided Mexico this year: There is a lot of (well founded) “gringo go home!” energy in Mexico lately. Who needs that?
So here I am in El Salvador which a couple of locals have proudly proclaimed as the safest country in the world now. It does feel very, very safe, I must say, especially where I am, in a bungalow on a cliff above a private beach somewhere between El Tunco and El Zonte. All I hear here is the waves and the occasional impossibly loud bird, and the view is fantastic. I feel like some kind of king waking up in the morning and not even having to raise my head from the pillow to enjoy an expansive view of the Pacific, framed by almond and palm branches.
Last night I slept for ten hours, and I needed it after a 14-hour overnight journey. Sleeping to the sound of surf is the best you can do in life — full-stop, point-blank, period. Aside from a brief disturbance when a coconut thunked on the tin roof, it was a flawless slumber session. The WiFi is good, and I had a highly productive day at work this morning. The dueña of this place, a very sweet lady named Vilma, prepared a delicious breakfast which I ate whilst I worked, overlooking the mighty Pacific in fresh, clean, downright victorious air.
It is incredibly healthy being so immersed in the natural flow of things. I am planning a side trip this winter to explore points south. (It will be required to leave the country to renew my visa after 90 days anyway.) Peru and Colombia are both of great interest to me for different reasons. At the moment, I am extremely content where I am while looking forward to enjoying the nearby gringo surf beaches, the mountains, the lakes, and even the (shudder) city of San Salvador at some point.
It feels like my creative energy is supercharged by this environment. If you’re one of my “fans,” you will definitely find some new, inspired work in the 4.0 version of this site. I am equipped with a real camera, tripod, decent recording device, guitar and plenty of books and notebooks and intend to use them to create new music, new videos, new writings and ramblings, perhaps even a drawing or two. It should be pretty good so check back regularly!
