Final Days in El Salvador: Back to the Capital, San Salvador
Back to the capital for my final days — grocery runs, museum stops, long walks, and one last quiet garden before a border crossing.
My two weeks in El Salvador were starting to wind down.
I’d based myself in Santa Ana.
Watched Lake Coatepeque change colours in the light.
Beach-hopped along the coast — from quiet Playa El Palmarcito to loud El Tunco.
Climbed endless stairs in Ataco.
Got chased by ducks at a thermal spa.
It had been a mix of calm, chaos, and everything in between.
But now, I only had two nights left.
San Salvador would be my final stop before crossing into Honduras.
It felt fitting.
Getting there from Ataco wasn’t complicated, just slow enough to feel like a proper transition. I took a bus down from the mountains, switching along the way, and watched the scenery flatten out again.
Green hills turned into wider roads.
The air got warmer.
Traffic thickened.
By the time I reached San Salvador, it felt like I was stepping back into the pulse of the country.
I’d booked Villa Serena San Benito, mostly for location.
It was in a safer, more established neighbourhood — and more importantly, just down the street from the Sheraton Presidente San Salvador Hotel, where my bus to Tegucigalpa would depart.
I like being close to my exit plan.
Especially before crossing a border.
It was already dark when I arrived at the terminal in San Salvador and I started walking toward the hotel.
Normally, walking in a capital city at night would put me on alert.
But once I stepped into San Benito, I felt the shift immediately.
Wider streets.
Homes behind gates.
Security outside embassies and hotels.
Christmas lights wrapped around balconies and trees.
It felt structured.
Established.
Comfortable.
I checked in, dropped my bag, and stood in my room for a moment.
Two nights.
One full day.
Then Honduras.
El Salvador wasn’t finished yet — but this chapter was closing.
My first glimpse of San Salvador — Christmas lights, traffic circles, and a very unexpected Pepsi tree.
Grocery Runs & Getting Organised
Once I dropped my bag, I didn’t pretend I was going out for a cute dinner.
I opened Google Maps.
“Grocery store.”
Simple enough.
Except not really.
Some places claimed to be grocery stores and absolutely were not. A convenience shop is not a grocery store. A place that sells three bananas with a Coke fridge does not count.
After a bit of scrolling and mild suspicion, I landed on Super Selectos – San Benito.
Walking distance.
Well-lit area.
Still inside my “this feels safe” bubble.
Perfect.
I headed out.
San Benito at night wasn’t loud or chaotic. Cars moved steadily. People were out, but not wandering aimlessly. It felt orderly.
Normal.
Super Selectos was exactly what I needed — a proper grocery store.
I grabbed a roasted chicken first. Priorities.
Then cheese. Tomatoes. Dill pickles. Bread. Salami.
Enough to build sandwiches for the next two days.
I knew I had a morning bus coming up. I wanted something easy. And I didn’t feel like spending money eating out just because I could.
I travel to experience places — not to blow my budget on convenience.
I also grabbed rum and Gatorade.
Because balance.
Back at Villa Serena, I laid everything out on the desk like I was assembling a temporary life.
Chicken here.
Bread stacked neatly.
Salami lined up.
Not glamorous.
But efficient.
And solo travel has a lot of efficient moments.
I made a sandwich, poured a drink, and opened my laptop.
Honduras wasn’t going to plan itself.
Later that night, Bryce and I played drinking games over Skype — chaos through a screen, which somehow makes a quiet hotel room feel less quiet.
It was loud.
It was ridiculous.
It was exactly how I wanted to spend my second-to-last night in El Salvador.
Two nights in San Salvador: roasted chicken, sandwich supplies, apple rum, and Gatorade. Efficient. Prepared. Hydrated (sort of).
Securing the Exit Plan First
The next morning, I didn’t head straight into sightseeing mode.
I went to the Sheraton.
Specifically, the Sheraton Presidente — where my bus to Tegucigalpa would depart the following day.
I like knowing exactly where I’m leaving from before I actually have to leave.
I wanted the ticket in my hand.
I wanted to know the exact walk.
I wanted to see the entrance, the pickup point — all of it.
Part of it is practical.
Part of it is peace of mind.
And part of it, if I’m being honest, is trying not to look completely lost on departure morning.
Not that it matters.
I’m carrying a backpack. I check my phone. I’m obviously not from there.
But scouting out your exit changes your energy. You move differently when you already know what tomorrow looks like.
I bought my ticket.
Asked a few questions.
Noted exactly where I’d need to stand.
Border crossings are unpredictable.
Having that ticket in my hand made it feel less so.
Plan secured.
And I still had the whole day ahead of me.
I turned away from the hotel and started walking.
First stop: the museum.
This was the San Benito vibe — clean, modern, and walking distance to my bus out of the country.
Museum, A Long Walk & A Garden Break
I headed toward MARTE — Museo de Arte de El Salvador.
It felt like the right place to start my final full day.
Museums add layers. They remind me that a country isn’t just landscapes — it has stories, artists, context.
MARTE wasn’t overwhelming, which I appreciated. I wandered through the exhibits at my own pace, reading plaques, pausing when something caught my attention, skipping what didn’t.
After about an hour, I stepped back outside and checked the time.
Still daylight — but not unlimited.
Next stop: Jardín Botánico La Laguna.
About an hour walk.
I could’ve taken a taxi.
But I had time — and I like walking cities.
The walk showed me a more functional side of San Salvador. Traffic. Small shops. People heading home.
Somewhere along the way, I passed a white church.
Simple. Bright. Doors open.
I stepped inside for a few minutes.
Not for reflection.
Just for quiet.
Then I kept going.
By the time I reached the botanical garden, I was glad I’d walked.
Inside, the city noise faded.
Shaded paths.
Dense tropical plants.
Iguanas stretched across rocks.
Turtles drifting in the water.
And then something small darted through the brush.
Naturally, I followed it.
It moved quickly, tail barely visible, weaving in and out of the greenery like it knew exactly how to avoid being photographed.
Which immediately made me want to photograph it.
I pulled out my phone and tried to zoom in, but it kept disappearing just as I thought I had it framed. I must have looked mildly unhinged — creeping slowly through a botanical garden, whispering “come on…” to a wild animal.
A couple of other people noticed and started looking too. Suddenly it wasn’t just me. It became a small, silent group effort.
For a moment, we were all united in the mission.
It popped out once more, paused long enough for a blurry photo, then vanished again.
Later, I learned it wasn’t a coati like I first thought — it was an agouti.
Still exciting. Still worth the chase.
I was far more excited than necessary.
I stayed longer than planned.
Ate lunch there.
Sat on a bench.
Watched the light shift.
It felt like the right way to spend my final full day — no rush, no checklist panic.
Eventually, I checked the time.
Light would fade.
Places would close.
And I still had one last night.
Turns out I wasn’t chasing a coati. Meet the agouti. Still worthy of a full paparazzi moment.
One Last Night in El Salvador
After the garden, I walked back to Villa Serena.
The streets felt familiar now.
Museum.
Long walk.
Garden.
Coati chase.
Complete.
Tuila was supposed to come by to say goodbye.
But travel timing doesn’t always line up.
No big moment. It’s just one of those things.
Back in my room, I packed properly.
Passport easy to reach.
Ticket double-checked.
I finished the rest of the food.
Roasted chicken.
Bread.
Pickles.
Salami.
There’s something satisfying about leaving a country with everything used up.
No waste.
No leftovers.
Just a clean exit.
I still had rum and Gatorade.
So I finished that too.
Bryce and I played one last chaotic round of drinking games over Skype — laughing too loud for a quiet hotel room, fully aware I had a 9:30 a.m. international bus the next morning.
It wasn’t sentimental.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It was just me — finishing what I started and getting ready for the next border.
El Salvador had been steady. Surprising. Easier than expected.
But I was ready.
The next morning, I’d walk down the street to the Sheraton Presidente with my backpack on and Honduras ahead.
Same bag.
New country.
Let’s go.
One last wander through San Salvador before crossing into Honduras.
