After years of civil war, natural disasters and political unrest, El Salvador is proving there is more to the country than coffee. Gary Bowerman reports

My view of the picturesque Ruta de la Paz (Peace Route) is somewhat obscured. Winding up into the lushly forested highlands of northeast El Salvador from the town of San Francisco Gotera, I am one of 26 people crammed into the back of a pick-up truck, covered by a blue tarpaulin. As the breathless vehicle heaves itself forward, a young girl in a stained tangerine dress offers me an unripe mango. Two Stetson-wearing elderly men carrying tasselled leather sheaths encasing knives the length of baseball bats discuss decapitating an angry snake in neighbouring Honduras.

Wedged in the centre of the truck, I catch glimpses of mountain-side coffee plantations and breathe in the drifting fragrance of pine trees. During our frequent stops, the colours of El Salvador’s two main political parties loom into view – red, white and blue for the ruling right-wing Arena (National Republican Alliance) party and red and white for the left-wing FMLN (Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front, named after Agustin Farabundo Martí, leader of El Salvador’s 1932 popular uprising, for which he was executed by the military government). This is a heavily sloganised nation, with political messages decorating virtually every telegraph pole and street light, as well as houses, trees and bridges.

The Peace Route was named following El Salvador’s brutal 12-year civil war, which ended in 1992. The history of conflict in this tiny country nicknamed El Pulgarcito (the Little Thumb) can be traced back to the arrival of Spanish conquistadores in 1524. The fertile volcanic soil and shaded hillsides were once home to the Pipil Indians, but would later prove profitable for a coterie of land owners, known as the ‘14 Families,’ who cashed in on global demand for the local crop: coffee. As the nation’s agricultural wealth became concentrated in the hands of a repressive few, unrest was inevitable

Decades of 20th-century disorder culminated in a polarising wave of revolutionary turmoil and military violence during the 1970s. The assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero – during a mass at a hospital in the capital San Salvador in March 1980 – was the final catalyst. His liberation theology movement represented El Salvador’s voiceless peasant majority. The nation quickly descended into bloody civil war, with right-wing death squads terrorising rural communities and both the army and the guerrillas accused of massacres, torture and violence.

The undulating valleys and coffee-growing hills of the Morazán department experienced some of the fiercest conflict between the US-backed Salvadoran army and the revolutionary left-wing FMLN guerrillas. After the signing of peace accords in January 1992, Morazán symbolised the struggle to establish peace, democracy and security in a shattered nation shorn of at least 70,000 lives.

Today, the heartbeat of Morazán’s Peace Route is Perquin. A laid-back mountain town of around 800 people, it was the FMLN’s stronghold and base for its broadcasting station, Radio Venceremos (Radio We Shall Overcome). Tourists now visit the Museum of the Revolution here. Founded in a small adobe house in 1991, it traces the roots of a war that still defines El Salvador – domestically and globally. Oliver Stone’s 1986 movie Salvador and, more recently, Luis Mandoki’s Voces Inocentes brought a nation’s suffering to the big screen, while U2’s 1987 song ‘Bullet the Blue Sky’ set it to music

Covering every wall of the museum, black-and-white photographs tell stories about life in the guerrilla camps. Glass cabinets display blood-stained uniforms, rifles, field radios, helmets and bullets. A separate room exhibits propaganda posters from pro-revolutionary support groups in Germany, Ireland and Canada. One depicts a conical volcano erupting like a champagne bottle, watched by celebrating FMLN solders. Outside, a crater gouged by a 500lb US-made bomb is surrounded by a display of government and rebel anti-aircraft guns and mortar launchers imported from the US, Russia, China and
Israel. The charred remains of fighter planes grounded by rebel gunners sit shaded under a tree canopy.

After leaving the museum, I follow the aroma of roasting coffee beans to the Casa de la Abuela café, where I am served by the genial abuela (grandmother) herself, Alba Gladis Villalobos. Born in El Salvador’s third-largest city, San Miguel, she became a spokesperson for the Committee of Mothers of Political Prisoners, Disappeared and Assassinated (Comadre) after one of her three children was killed during the war.

In 1990, the family fled to England, where she gave speeches about the war situation in her home nation while her offspring studied at London universities. Villalobos returned to Perquin in 1993. ‘There is a terrible history of conflict in this part of the country,’ she says. ‘I know, I lost a son. But it is peaceful now, and we don’t have the same problems with guns and gang violence like in the cities.’

These words underscore the current reality in a country of around 7 million people that sits on the Pacific underbelly of Central America. Fifteen years after the cessation of civil warfare, gang violence and armed crime are rampant. El Salvador’s name translates as ‘The Saviour,’ and its national monument, El Salvador del Mundo, is an openarmed Jesus standing atop the globe. But deeply religious residents know the bloody troubles require more than divine intervention

Three days after I travelled to Perquin, two gangsters shot dead a bus driver in front of his passengers on the same road. The two daily newspapers, El Diario de Hoy and La Prensa Grafica, are filled with grim stories of robbery, murder and kidnapping. The word delincuencia is a national epithet and insecurity touches every aspect of life. Every home has iron bars covering its windows and doors; rifle-carrying guards protect stores and restaurants and neighbourhood collectives employ armed vigilantes. Intercity buses reach their destinations by dusk, and the city streets empty after dark.

The blame is laid at the feet of criminal gangs, known as pandillas, which grew out of the postwar political confusion, economic stagnation and, crucially, a failure to remove guns from society. The gangs are well organised, having turned their attention to extortion, drug trafficking and money laundering. Strong links with criminal counterparts in the US mean their activities are spreading across North America and Europe.

Nature has also conspired against El Salvador. The war was followed by a devastating series of hurricanes and floods during the late 1990s and two strong earthquakes that took place in December 1999 and January 2000. The effects of man-made violence and natural disaster mean that around two million Salvadorans now live in the US. The exodus continues; the University of Central America estimates that around 450 Salvadorans emigrate, legally or otherwise, each day. Locals joke that El Salvador produces two exports: coffee and immigrants.

El Salvador’s natural environment could, however, prove to be its ultimate economic saviour. And with good reason – its picturepostcard landscapes and valleys contain 25 soaring volcanoes, 321km of largely undeveloped coast line including some of the region’s best surfing beaches, Mayan ruins, inland lakes, colonial towns and colourful indigenous artesanía handicrafts.

To garner tourism investment, the Arena government of president Antonio Saca presented its National Tourism Plan in 2006, aiming to attract two million visitors per year by 2014. A new Ministry of Tourism was created and corporate support sought; Credomatic and American Express are both contributing to the tourism strategy. In April, tourism minister Ruben Rochi visited Qatar and Dubai in search of funding, and secured a deal to air a promotional tourism video on Al Jazeera. TV advertising campaigns are also planned for both CNN and ESPN, and the government is currently lobbying to have the Jiquilisco Bay – which counts 514 animal species, including 87 types of birds – registered as a Unesco Biosphere Reserve

El Salvador’s dawning era of tourism will partly focus on the cluster of hitherto undeveloped beaches near Puerto La Libertad, an hour’s drive from San Salvador. A new sea-front tourism park is being constructed in the small port town. A few kilometres west, electric saws and jackhammers fill the air at El Sunzal beach, a world-class surfing location that attracts wave riders from all over the world.

Those who are not at El Sunzal to challenge the surf are, it seems, building hotels. The new Roca Sunzal rents its comfortable rooms for $50. Among its many neighbours are the smart Roots surf camp and the once-solitary El Tubo Surfers Inn. When I was here seven years ago, the sea-front La Bocana café was the only place to eat. Today, a mini neighbourhood of restaurants, bars and surf shops has emerged, along with a cyber café and a Tourism Police office.

Gazing at the palm-fringed, volcanic black sand beach, frothing white surf and clear blue sky, there is a real sense of potential. At the turn of the decade, the only visitors were weekending families from the capital – and armed beach thieves. ‘It’s not as dangerous as before,’ says one local resident. ‘But visitors must still be careful. Don’t carry money or valuables and stay close to the commercial areas.’

As I walk along the beach, I meet two Brazilian surfers who are enjoying a final beer before heading to the airport. ‘We have been really surprised,’ one says. ‘We come to Central America each year, but we had never visited El Salvador before. The surf is superb and the people have been very kind. We might return next year.’ For a nation traumatised by postwar strife, those words might prove an inspiration.

WHAT TO DO SUCHITOTO
This picturesque colonial town of cobbled streets and low-rise cottages is located 90 minutes north of San Salvador. The centrepiece of the quiet town plaza is a magnificent 18th-century white church built by the Spaniards. Parque San Martin overlooks the man-made Suchitlan Lake

EASTERN BEACHES
While the capital’s rich set head to the white sand beaches of the Costa del Sol, further east are three magnificent stretches of largely undeveloped, palmfringed sand: El Cuco, El Tamarindo and El Espino.

LAGO DE COATEPEQUE
This volcanic crater lake 57km west of San Salvador is a popular weekend retreat. The dramatic landscapes are surrounded by forested hills and the area is popular with watersports enthusiasts.

Where to stay
HILTON PRINCESS SAN SALVADOR Av. Magnolias y Boulevard del Hipod Tel: (+503) 2268 4545