How El Salvador Traded Gang Violence for Surf Resorts and Margaritas

As we sweep around blind bends and overtake seemingly every vehicle in sight, my taxi driver Hugo insists he has never felt safer. With his foot firmly planted on the accelerator, I resist the urge to comment. Yet our conversation is not really about the nerve-racking drive from the airport; it is about the remarkable transformation of his homeland, El Salvador.

Only a decade ago, this small Central American nation was dubbed the murder capital of the world, recording roughly one killing every hour.

Gangs held much of the country’s six million people in fear, demanding extortion payments and using kidnapping, torture and murder to maintain control.

Violence shaped much of 32-year-old Hugo’s life. Before becoming an Uber driver, he worked behind the wheel of a bus and was forced to surrender a third of his £75 weekly income to gang members as ‘renta’, or protection money. ‘If you didn’t pay? Well, they killed you,’ he says.

Today, however, the picture is very different. President Nayib Bukele, who has described himself as the ‘world’s coolest dictator’, invoked emergency powers to detain suspected gang members. Around 91,000 people have been arrested from a national population of only six million.

With gang leaders and foot soldiers behind bars, Salvadorans are beginning to leave behind decades marked by military dictatorships, civil war and gang violence. In their place has come a new force: tourism.

The United Nations’ World Tourism Organisation now ranks El Salvador as the third fastest-growing holiday destination in the world.

The appeal becomes clear within minutes. A 30-minute drive west of the airport — even faster when Hugo is driving — leads to a spectacular 190-mile Pacific coastline. Volcanic cliffs descend towards rugged surf towns, where palm trees frame black-sand beaches.

I am heading for El Tunco, the country’s best-known resort. Once a destination reserved for the most adventurous backpackers and surfers, it remains filled with inexpensive hostels and casual eateries serving cheap pupusas and fried plantain — thick corn tortillas accompanied by slices of fried banana.

Now, though, a more affluent crowd is arriving, and luxury beachfront villas and stylish coffee shops are appearing alongside the traditional budget businesses.

We pass through an armed checkpoint with a wave from the guards before I arrive at my accommodation, Balance Surf & Yoga Retreat.

The owner, Adrian, welcomes me. A tall, long-haired surfer from the United States, he perfectly matches the retreat’s relaxed, bohemian character.

The retreat is an oasis of calm. Leaving feels almost impossible, and I spend long stretches in a hammock beneath mango and walnut trees, eating tacos, drinking cacao smoothies and cooling down in the plunge pool.

Over a beer, Adrian tells me he discovered the location by chance in 2004, while taking a road trip to Costa Rica with his closest friend, Matty.

FIND OUT MORE: U.S. Jobless Claims Fall to 197,000, Lowest Level Since Mid-July

The pair were 19 when police stopped them at gunpoint in the middle of the night. Officers warned them not to continue towards their next destination, Honduras, because of civil unrest there.

The eager surfers woke the following morning to find themselves looking out over flawless waves — and not a single person in the water.

Elsewhere, El Salvador was buckling under the rise of notorious gangs, such as MS-13 and Barrio 18, that had filled the power vacuum after a brutal 12-year civil war. But the tiny town of El Tunco was seen as ‘neutral’.

They ended up staying a month – surfing every day and spearfishing – and vowed to return. Two decades on and it is no longer the same sleepy village, instead earning itself a reputation as El Salvador’s party capital for Salvadorians at weekends.

Indeed, my first two nights are spent in a haze of mezcal and margaritas, dancing to reggaeton in beachside bars. 

I can’t decide if it’s reassuring or disconcerting to see a line of stony-faced armed soldiers keeping watch.

Weekdays in the town are a quieter affair. It gives me a chance to focus on the real reason I, like many, have travelled here – El Salvador’s world-class waves.

American surfers first started seeking out the consistent swells in the 1960s. Now, President Bukele is looking to supercharge this, pouring a billion pounds into revamping the coastline as ‘Surf City’.

I head out for a lesson with Balance’s finest surf coach Brayan, 24, who has impressive English. On one side of the bay is El Sunzal, a perfect, mellow 600ft longboard wave. 

But given my level, I’m taken instead to La Bocana, a more powerful, faster – and unfortunately shallower – break over sharp rocks.

I appear to have oversold my surfing abilities, and return nursing cut feet and grazed knees. But I’m happy – it’s hard not to be in El Tunco under cloudless skies and 30C (86F) heat in January.

And it’s fair to say the locals are, too. Everyone has a terrifying story of the El Salvador of old. Take street seller Eddy, 50, who tells me how he was just eight years old when he watched his mother set upon by five men and stabbed to death.

As the sun sets on my final evening, a fiery glow casts silhouettes across a busy beach. It’s already a raucous atmosphere.

Not long ago the nation was too scared to set foot outside after dark. Now it’s just getting started.