Why San Juan del Sur Isn’t the Beach Paradise We Hoped For

The first beach day we had in San Juan del Sur was strange to say the least.

We found a nice spot and I sat cross-legged with my palms resting on my thighs, eyes closed, and headphones in place for my guided meditation. In that moment, I felt like I practically had a “do not disturb” sign around my neck, but I found myself being shaken like a cocktail tumbler, and I opened my eyes to see a man grinning at me as he pleaded for money. I shook my head and said “So sorry, but no, I don’t have anything”

To this news he sat himself down behind me on my towel.

Now that he’d given up on money, he appeared to be begging for sunscreen, rubbing his body vigorously and screaming, “BRONZADOR!”

Not content with just rubbing his own body he rubbed his hands all over Joe’s chest, still wailing, “BRONZADOR!” over and over again. Never have I seen Joe look so bewildered and horrified.

After multiple protests, he finally got up to leave, but not without picking up Joe’s travel towel case and cradling it like a baby. Joe intervened, saying, “Excuse me, that’s mine”, and he put it back down looking broken-hearted. I’m unsure why he would select that. I can’t think of a more useless object to try and take.

We sat in silence confused before Joe stammered,

“What the hell just happened? Why do I feel like I’ve been molested?”

“Well…you kind of were…He was really going to town on your chest there.”

We both burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Oh well, let’s try to relax now.”

At least the beach was very pretty. We’d chosen a lovely area of the beach to chill out. We pondered why nobody else was here. Everyone seemed to be huddled further down the beach on the dark, wet sand, right next to the main road and a load of litter. Strange. Why is everyone down there?

The answer swiftly presented itself by slapping us both in the face with a fistful of sand. The wind on the beach seemed to created a miniature sandstorm every 10 minutes or so. There’s only so many times you can be whipped in the face before deciding to join the others on the wet, immovable patch of the beach, trying to ignore the noise of the traffic.

Joe left me with the stuff while he went for a dip, and it wasn’t long before another strange encounter presented itself.

A young man was selling paper flowers. I politely declined his offer, when he responded with “I’m hungry, I need to eat…” and in the pause, he looked me up and down, licked his lips, and added the two words “your pussy”.

Horrified, this time I told him to fuck off, but he remained unfazed, winked at me, laughed, and slowly loped away, keeping eye contact. I kept seeing him prowling in my periphery for the rest of the day and I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in a swimming costume.

Joe returned and I had to blurt out

“God I hate this beach!”

It’s OK, we thought, tomorrow, we will try another beach. I’d read that the surrounding beaches were a lot nicer than this one. We looked forward to hiring a scooter and exploring the local area.

But could we get a scooter? No, we could not get a scooter for love or money. They were sold out at every rental shop for our whole time we were there. I guess all the other tourists were as desperate to leave San Juan Del Sur as we were!

There was also no public transport. As a last resort, we asked the taxis for a price and were gobsmacked at the extortionate prices they were asking for such short distances. There was no way we could afford what they were asking, so we were stuck here in San Juan Del Sur. I know I shouldn’t complain about not being able to leave a beach but it was such a disappointment.

Instead of exploring the surrounding beaches we hiked to visit “The Christ of Mercy” a somewhat small scale, budget version of “Christ Redeemer” and to view the beach we hate from above.

This was quite fun, at least we were doing something more active than trying to avoid sandstorms and awkward interactions.

San Juan Del Sur seemed to come into it’s own in the evenings. The beach bars were a pleasant place for a light beer, some music and a game of cards.

Sat at a beachside, seafood shack enjoying some tasty, cheap lobster as the sun painted the horizon in golden and peach hues I thought that maybe a funny story was a small price to pay for nights like this.

The reality is that most destinations rarely mirror the exact vision you create in your head, or even the itinerary you map out on paper. San Juan Del Sur was a reminder that surprises — good or bad — are part of the adventure, and that’s a lesson we will learn over and over again in our travels.

Thank you for reading! Hearts and tips are always welcome, and your support is very much appreciated.

This story was originally published on Medium

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