El Salvador is carving its path as a new hotspot for digital nomads, retirees and tourists

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon as I navigate the already-bustling streets of San Vicente in El Salvador. Many of the vendors are still setting up their stalls near the entrance of the market, creating a vibrant tapestry of multicolored mangos, jocotes and papayas that line both sides of the street. The intoxicating aroma of sizzling pupusas on hot griddles fills the air, a beloved staple of El Salvador’s culinary landscape.

But today, my senses are attuned to a different quest — one that leads me to an elusive elixir of coffee. Rumor has it that a peculiar man, shrouded in early morning mystery, possesses a herd of goats. I was told that he will squeeze fresh milk directly from one of his nannies into a cup, mixing it with instant coffee. After a night that would have raised eyebrows during my last visit in 2021, I’m yearning for a jolt of energy and adventure. As I wander these exciting streets, a tantalizing thought consumes my mind: Could El Salvador, with its hidden wonders and untamed spirit, become the next sizzling tourist hotspot, leaving the tired contenders in its wake?

I’m an unabashed coffee enthusiast. I’m not talking about the mochafrappa-soy-milkshake-syrup-powdered sugar concoctions peddled by corporate chains like Starbucks. No, I crave the genuine taste of coffee. Latin America has spoiled me with exquisite coffee beans roasted to perfection, but among the top contenders is El Salvador.

My friend Daniel, the proud and passionate owner of Entre Nubes Café, welcomes guests to savor espresso against a backdrop of breathtaking vistas. Live music fills the air as you relish each sip and indulge in a hearty lunch.

After an immersive, private, fourhour tour of Daniel’s farm, I feel as though I’ve acquired a master’s degree in coffee production. It’s a world away from the ubiquitous instant coffee, which is still the norm in the country, yet the allure of milk straight from a goat’s udder compelled me to embark on this quest.

I’ve written about El Salvador before, yet throughout its history, it has never undergone the profound transformation that is currently shaping it into the country we see today. Back in 2021, I was told to never leave my hotel room past sundown. I witnessed a wedding end at 4:30 p.m. Staff at my accommodations worked or stayed overnight in order to avoid leaving at dark. This atmosphere of pervasive unease permeated every corner of the country, from the capital of San Salvador to the tranquil beach towns and the idyllic coffee-growing region nestled in the mountains. But today, I see a miraculous transformation that is almost unbelievable.

The rhythm of life has shifted. Live music reverberates into the late hours, and new restaurants are open late. Laughing children can be seen playing on swing sets underneath starlit skies or street lights. Craft breweries have sprouted up across the country, and lively wedding receptions now pulsate into the early morning hours. Festivals and events are almost a weekly occurrence. A population once in hiding is now emerging to satiate their appetite for connection and revelry. And tourists no longer limit themselves to the coastal enclaves renowned for their surfing shores, where current Olympic qualifiers are being held.

Amid the migration of digital nomads and retirees seeking refuge in Mexico and, more recently, Colombia, El Salvador emerges as a rebellious contender — an unexplored frontier beckoning those yearning for an alternative sanctuary, free from the shackles of safety concerns plaguing the other two countries.

Nevertheless, the enchanting “land of volcanoes,” vibrant cumbia rhythms, and home of some of the best culinary dishes in Central America still has some progress to make. This political and social landscape is new and evolving, and environmental issues are a new focus that will be instrumental in driving tourism if they can draw inspiration from the success of Costa Rica’s conservation efforts.

As I meander through the lively market, sipping my goat-milk coffee, I can’t help but notice curious glances and infectious smiles greeting me. A resilient culture with boundless possibilities is awakening and forging a new identity. Food prices and other goods, at the moment, rival that of Vietnam. Transportation is inexpensive. The warmth and optimism I feel from Salvadorans makes me realize the journey has only begun. I can’t think of a better time to visit, experience and maybe even invest in a country with this level of potential.

Trevor Davis, former cidermaker and working musician from Frederick, is a writer, content creator and cultural traveler. Follow his adventures at roguevagabond.com, and support his latest venture, the Rogue & Vagabond Travel Series, at igg.me/at/rogue-andvagabond.

BY CRYSTAL SCHELLE Special to The News-Post

artin Scarborough attended the first Frederick Pride when he was still in high school. It was known as Picnic in the Park then and held at Utica Park in Frederick. Scarborough accompanied his mom, who was a priest at Grace Episcopal Church in Brunswick, to help man a booth.

“It was just to show that there are communities of faith that are welcoming to the queer community at a time when there were very few people saying that,” he said. Scarborough wasn’t even out himself when he went with his mom.

“I did not know I was queer at the time,” he said. “I just thought I was a really good ally. I realized, probably about eight years later, that, OK, maybe I do, in fact, belong in the LGBTQ community myself.”

“For the first couple of years that we held the festival, there were some things we had anxiety over — fear of retaliation or people attacking the festival or potentially harming LGBTQ people,” he said. “So we made the festival a little bit quieter.”

That’s why the early festival was just called Picnic in the Park.

“But after some significant debate and discussion amongst the committee and amongst the Frederick Center, it was determined that it was best to highlight the community culture,” he continued.

Frederick Pride

When: 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. June 24

Frederick Pride moved to downtown Frederick, making the festival more visible and giving it room to expand. Fair said The Frederick Center also used “language that celebrates our community, and so ever since that, we saw the event really taking off and becoming as large as it has become.”

Where: Carroll Creek Linear Park, Frederick Tickets: Free Info: thefrederickcenter.org/frederick-pride

Today, Scarborough is a staff member of The Frederick Center, which hosts the annual Frederick Pride event. He was hired in April as the organization’s development director, so this year will mark his first time participating as an organizer of the festival, which takes place from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. June 24 at Carroll Creek Linear Park in downtown Frederick.

About 200 vendors are expected at the festival, selling everything from handmade jewelry to Pride-friendly products, as well as local representatives from rugby and roller derby groups seeking members. Onsite food and a youth area will also be available.

This year marks the 10th anniversary of Frederick Pride.

Kris Fair, executive director of The Frederick Center, said it’s an inclusive event, with something for everyone.

Fair joined The Frederick Center in 2012 and was part of the committee that planned the second event at Utica Park. Since then, Fair has seen Frederick Pride grow each year while continuing to celebrate the LGBTQ community and its allies.

“It started with 300 people in a satellite park out in Ballenger Creek as a BYOB festival,” Fair recalled. “Last year estimates were anywhere from 20,000 to 30,000 attendees.”

Most importantly, Fair said, the atmosphere surrounding the treatment of the gay community has changed.

Frederick Pride has now become one of the biggest festivals in Frederick. It has been held each year with the exception of 2020 and 2021, due to the pandemic.

Fair said to see how Frederick has embraced Pride touches him professionally and personally.

“It’s an incredibly humbling and emotional experience to see something that as a person [who] grew up in this community never imagined we would have,” he said. “To see it grow to this size is an amazing feat to be celebrated for all the people that have participated in making that happen.”

Fair also said good timing has helped the festival become successful, as “2012 was a real turning point here for Frederick County,” he explained. That was the year “when we had the marriage equality vote, by popular referendum … and not only did the State of Maryland approve marriage equality, but Frederick County actually also voted for Question Six, which was the initiative to approve same-sex marriage.”

He said because of that, 2012 “was the beginning of a complete cultural shift.”

Fair has seen how the community as a whole has embraced the LGBTQ community but knows firsthand it wasn’t always this way.

“I graduated 20 years ago from high school, very much not out of the closet, nor was any other student in my high school, because the only out student that we had was bullied to the point of suicide attempts,” Fair recalled. “We were all basically told to stay deep in the closet, through the actions of others. So for years and years and years, community members were very quiet about their existence and about their relationships and friendships.”

That same year of the equality marriage fight, The Frederick Center was founded. That, Fair said, was “serendipitous in creating a community and a culture around Frederick that is supportive. … What I found was as the more we came forward, the more and more allies appeared, and that has been a testament to the work that people have done and the conversations that they’ve had and their ability to live [life as] their authentic selves with their family and friends.”

Even before Scarborough came out, The Frederick Center was a beacon of hope for him, he said. “It’s funny because The Frederick Center always sort of felt like a place I belonged, even when I didn’t know where on the LGBTQ alphabet soup I myself stood. And Frederick Pride always felt like a place where I belonged. I felt like the community around it felt like a second home to me.”

It especially felt like a safe harbor when Scarborough was transitioning.

“For context, I was a trans man born as female, so my physical sex characteristics were female, but for most of my life I had a sense of ‘I’m not a girl,’” he explained.

He said he didn’t want to be treated like a girl or seen as a girl; he wanted to be seen and treated like a boy. “But I didn’t really have the language to express that until I got to college and learned about transpeople and met other people that were transgender.”

Scarborough said he initially got hung up on the statistical probability that he would be trans, after reading that only 1% of the population is trans.

“What are the odds that I would also feel that way?” he said but learned that “statistics are not guaranteed probability. I had to do a lot of kind of unpacking of that.”

Although Scarborough finally had an identity, it has not been an easy road to travel, as the transgender community is very in the crossfire of a lot of the so- cial discourse and conflict in America right now, he said. Emotionally, it was a roller coaster trying to identify and also feel safe.

‘“When I first came out, I found myself emotionally swinging from being like, ‘Oh, I’m so glad I know who I am’ to ‘now I feel to the world hates me,’” he said.

That is why Frederick Pride is especially important for people who are struggling with finding their identity or finding a safe space to talk to people who have or are going through similar journeys.

“For me, what turned my feelings of despair around was getting involved in the LGBTQ community and meeting people who were older than me and were transgender and had families that loved them, that had partners that cared about them, that had fulfilling jobs that they were passionate about, and seeing that life was more than just what to me and pop culture and politics said it could be,” Scarborough said. “That I could be in a community that loves me and lets me flourish and sees me for my qualities and my gifts and welcomes me as and sees the humanity in me. I think that’s the importance of Frederick Pride.”

Fair said that is precisely why the LGBTQ community continues to fight discrimination. This community has a chance to build a safe environment for the younger LGBTQ community.

“There’s no way of ignoring the over 470 anti-LGBTQ bills that have been introduced in state legislators this year and the impact that it’s having on young people,” Fair said. “We run a youth center, so we see kids every week, and the emotional impact that this legislation has had on them cannot be understated. Even though we’ve defeated all of that legislation in Maryland, they are very attuned to the fact that other people their age across the country are suffering right now, because of the actions of people who do not understand our community.”

Fair said what it really comes down to is “providing opportunities for people to see what cultural influences look like,” such as Veteran pride. “For us, it [Pride] actually fuels the work that we do to break down stigmas, break down barriers, help to bring cultural understanding and community understanding for people that LGBTQ folks are exactly like everybody else,” he said.

“This isn’t unique, this isn’t abnormal, and a large portion of the population identify as LGBTQ, and they should be respected.”

After all these years, Fair said his favorite part of Frederick Pride is the end of the festival.

“There’s a moment at about 6 p.m. on Saturday when the crowds will start to disperse and head home,” he said. “Thousands of people are walking off the creek, and you’ll see young people with flags that they’re wearing as capes that match their identity, smiling, holding hands with their parents, talking about stuff that is important to the queer community. And you’ll see them run up to volunteers and they’ll be hugging each other and saying, ‘Thank God, there’s something like this and Frederick,’ and I’m not joking. Every single year this happens at 6 o’clock. You see the impact of a year’s worth of planning in a matter of 30 minutes. And it is emotional, it is overwhelming, and it is impactful in a way that drives the work that we continue to do, because for at least some people for at least one day, they might be struggling at home or in school or somewhere else, but they are allowed to just be themselves in a space that encourages them and affirms them, and they show that in their face. They show that in their appreciation. They show that in the way they emotionally cling to one another. It’s quite a moment.”

Crystal Schelle is a journalist whose work has been published locally, regionally and nationally. She enjoys trivia, cats and streaming movies.