10 Odd and Charming Facts About Salvadoran Society

10 Odd and Charming Facts About Salvadoran Society

Straddling Central America's Pacific coast, El Salvador is a land of volcanoes with a dramatic flair, vibrant culture, and as fiery a history as its coffee. All too often, eclipsed by reports of migration and gang warfare, the country has a complex social character that defies easy categorization. To understand El Salvador is to look behind the façade and find the paradoxical, resilient, and eccentric character of its people. These are ten truths about Salvadoran society that may seem weird to foreigners but lie at the heart of understanding this wonderful country.

#### 1. The Country of *Pupusas*: A National Love Affair with its Own "Ecosystem"

To call the *pupusa* merely a food is a profound understatement. It is the nation's undisputed national dish, its cultural emblem, and its daily ceremony. This thick, handcrafted corn tortilla stuffed with cheese, beans, pork, or loroco (a Central American flower bud) suffuses the nation. The strangeness, however, is in the multifaceted social context that follows.

Every neighborhood has its *pupusería*, typically a humble, family-run affair and the heart of the community. The act of consuming *pupusas* is a social activity, not something consumed in solitude. But the cultural nuance is in the toppings: the pungent, fermented cabbage slaw called *curtido* and the bland, watery tomato sauce. A Salvadoran will not only gauge a *pupusería* on the basis of the *pupusa* alone, but by the caliber of its *curtido*. Such ardor has even created a national holiday—*Día Nacional de la Pupusa*—and an intense pride that renders other Central American claims to the dish an-sensitive point. It's a world unto itself, with social life and local economies bound by its own rules.

#### 2. The "Bitcoin Beach" Experiment: A Nation's Crypto Leap

In a bold and controversial move, El Salvador in 2021 became the world's first country to legalize Bitcoin as legal tender, alongside the US Dollar. For a nation where the majority of its people are still unbanked, this was either a visionary leap into the unknown or a reckless gamble.

The strangeness of this fact is palpable. In El Zonte's small beach town, the "Bitcoin Beach" project demonstrated how cryptocurrency could form an economy, from buying groceries to haircuts. At the national level, the government issued the Chivo Wallet app, depositing $30 in Bitcoin into every citizen's account. This created bizarre moments where campesinos and tech bros argued over market dynamics. As the international financial community watched in amazement and horror, for many Salvadorans it was a confusing new aspect of daily life—a state-mandated journey into a virtual commodity they barely understood, provoked by a president who posited himself as a critic of the world economic order.

#### 3. The Spectacle of *Semana Santa*: Sawdust Carpets and Religious Theatre

While Holy Week deserves to be the norm in all Catholic venues, the passion and loveliness of Salvadoran *Semana Santa* are unmatched. The processions, complete with mournful floats carrying Christ and the Virgin, are standard. What's the oddity and marvel is the *alfombras*—extremely ornate, temporary floor coverings along the route of the procession.

Made not of fabric but of dyed sawdust, flowers, pine needles, and vegetables. They, the families and communities and artists, work for hours, usually through the night, painstakingly creating these lovely, colorful pieces of art on the sidewalk. The great irony is that these lovely works of art are created to be destroyed. Within a few minutes, the stately procession marches over them, obliterating the pattern. This legislation is a stark and sickening metaphor for the perishable quality of life and of beauty, a public display of faith and of sacrifice that makes urban streets a brief, sacred exhibit.

#### 4. A Nation Without its Own Currency

For a country so proud of its independence, it is a strange reality that El Salvador does not have a national currency since over two decades. In 2001, the government fully "dollarized" the economy by eliminating the *colón* and employing the US Dollar. It stabilized and contained hyperinflation, but it created a strange social schizophrenia. Previous generations continue to think in *colones*, translate prices in their heads (the fixed exchange rate was 8.75 colones to $1). More importantly, it gave up a most valuable tool of national economic policy—the ability to print or manipulate interest rates—to the United States Federal Reserve. That is, economic shocks in the US are transmitted directly and immediately to the markets of San Salvador. The nation's economic beat is in tandem with a foreign entity, and economic independence is a strange, theoretical concept in everyday life.

#### 5. The "Culture of '*Viendo cómo hacemos*': The Art of Improvisation

The literal Spanish translation of "we'll see how we get along" is "*veremos cómo lo hacemos*." El Salvadorans have shortened it into an attitude: "*viendo cómo hacemos*." That is not merely procrastination until tomorrow; it is an honed talent at improvising and adapting to adverse situations.

In a country where bureaucratic hurdles, economic instability, and infrastructural collapse are the norm, the ability to "make do" is an essential survival strategy. Whether a car is fixed using parts from a dozen different cars, an intricate electrical splice is jury-rigged, or an unauthorized fix for a legal problem is found, Salvadoran creativity is astounding. It is frustrating for those who desire strict order, yet it is a loose, persistent, and often sardonic approach to coping with the constant dilemmas of life. It's a society that often moves on the idea of a utilitarian, "just-in-time" principle.

#### 6. The Two-Faced Nature of the *Guanaco*

Internationally, the term *guanaco* is a completely different species and one that refers to a camelid animal similar to a llama. In El Salvador and within the Salvadoran diaspora, though, it is a nationalistic and endearing title. Salvadorans refer to themselves as *guanacos* proudly.

The etymology is disputed, but the name purportedly addresses the animal's reputed traits—tough, durable, and able to carry heavy loads, much as Salvadoran nationals who have endured civil war, natural disasters, and economic hardship. The adoption of this name repurposes a potentially derogatory term as a badge of honor. It is an emblem of collective toughness, generosity, and stubborn pride. To an outsider, the voice of a nation proclaiming its identity as being from a fuzzy animal is strange, yet to Salvadorans, it is the epitome of their nature.

#### 7. The *Torogoz*: A National Symbol That Cannot Be Caged

Most nations have a national bird, but El Salvador's, the *torogoz* (also turquoise-browed motmot), has with it a strong and peculiar legend. The *torogoz* cannot be kept in captivity, they say; it would sooner die than it would surrender its freedom.

That attribute has been incorporated into the national consciousness as one of liberty and freedom. The bird's beautiful coloration, including racket-tipped tail feathers, is lovely, but the fact that it is said not to want to be caged makes it sacred. In a nation that has fought hard to be free and loses so many of its citizens due to economic reasons, the *torogoz* is a poignant, prevalent reminder of the value of freedom. It is not only a symbol one observes, but experiences, one of strong, near-gut-level association with the concept of self-determination.

#### 8. The Prevalence of "Cerro Verde" in Every Home

Ask a Salvadoran what they drink, and they'll likely say "Coffee." Ask more precisely, and you'll discover a specific, almost ubiquitous brand: Café Cerro Verde. Its distinctive green boxes are in every supermarket, corner store, and cupboard.

In a country renowned for producing some of the world's finest, high-altitude, specialty coffee beans to be exported, the quirk is that the most commonly used domestically is a dark-roasted, pre-ground, very commercialized brand. The best beans are shipped out, and the local market is saturated with a dark, bitter coffee that is integrated into the daily fabric. It's a paradox of the global economy: the maker hardly ever drinks the highest-quality version of their own goods. The ritual of the *cafecito*—a strong, compact cup of coffee given to visitors—is almost always made with Cerro Verde, making it the authentic taste of Salvadoran quotidian life.

#### 9. The Lasting Legacy of *La Matanza* in Collective Memory

In 1932, the peasant rebellion organized by Farabundo Martí was put down with great brutality by the military regime, killing tens of thousands of peasants and Indians in what has become known as *La Matanza* (The Massacre). The bizarre and tragic fact is that this one act tainted the whole of the 20th century.

*La Matanza* effectively erased indigenous identity for several decades, as survivors abandoned their own attire and languages in order to avoid persecution. It cemented the power of the "Fourteen Families" oligarchy and the military, setting the stage for the following civil war that erupted fifty years later. Though rarely openly spoken of, the memory of *La Matanza* pervades the national consciousness—a shared trauma responsible for the original fear of insurrection, the melodramatic class divisions, and the roots of the revolutionary passion that would eventually consume the nation.

#### 10. The Surreal World of the "MegaCárcel"

To confront the gang violence that has plagued the country, President Nayib Bukele's government kicked off a groundbreaking, self-promoting initiative. The most prominent aspect is the Terrorism Confinement Center (CECOT), a massive, eyeball-searingly new prison that will hold 40,000 alleged gang members.

The oddity of this project lies in its self-aware, nearly film-set-like, presentation. The world watched as thousands of tattooed inmates were stripped to their waists, shaved, and marched into the prison in a very choreographed display of state power. The prison, rows and rows of mirror-image cells visible from one guard station, resembles something out of a dystopian film. To many Salvadorans, it represents security and the restoration of their neighborhoods. To others, it's a daunting emblem of authoritarianism and the disappearance of civil liberties. It is a prison facility, but it is also a palpable manifestation of the nation's brutal, zero-sum war against crime, and a surreal, powerful item of political theater conveyed to the world.

**Conclusion**

El Salvador is a land of contrasts, where revolutionary technologies coexist with old tradition, and profound trauma supports an enormous capacity to heal. They are more than curiosities: the required keys to understanding a society with a rich past to work through and a confident bet to make on its future are these ten truths, including the sacred *pupusa*, crypto-dollar economy, and symbolic *torogoz*. It is a country of *guanacos*, watching them live on, with a heart as resilient as it is strange and beautiful. To know El Salvador is to appreciate its paradoxes and to notice the incredible human story being unfolded between its volcanoes and its sea.