El Salvador Diaries - Part 2

April 18 – Easter Silence, Carpets, and the Procession

Besides the main house, the farm had two or three guest cabins that had been built to accommodate volunteers and visitors. Ranulfo's vision was for the property to eventually become a cultural and educational community space. Before the COVID pandemic, he had already managed to test the concept by opening a covered terrace between two of the guest buildings, furnished with tables and chairs. A small kitchen was also built there so that the space could serve as a café or restaurant for visitors. He also planned to organize lectures and workshops on permaculture. The pandemic, however, interrupted the farm's steady development, so Ranulfo decided to close the space temporarily and focus on completing the farm itself before welcoming larger numbers of guests.

I was accommodated in one of the smaller wooden cabins, right next to Hagen's. I woke up shortly after six in the morning, surrounded by a magical natural environment that I hadn't yet had the chance to fully explore the previous day.

The farm was built on a hillside, making every walk feel like a small adventure. Stairways, winding paths, and narrow walkways connected the different parts of the property. Since it was Good Friday, we didn't have to work, so the entire day was devoted to exploring the farm and simply relaxing.

After breakfast, Ranulfo offered to give me a tour of the farm. I was especially excited because, although I'm far from being an expert on plants, I've always been curious to learn about them.

The farm's two large Vizslas followed us wherever we went, while the chickens and roosters accompanied our walk with their quiet clucking. They laid between five and eight eggs every day, so there was never any shortage of fresh eggs. Ranulfo also kept fish in a large pond, which he carefully fed every day, and at the far end of the property stood several beehives.

Walking around the hillside garden was an adventure in itself. The staircases had been made from old car tires set into concrete, while every tree and plant had been thoughtfully positioned. Recycled materials—glass bottles, broken tiles, and other discarded items—had been incorporated creatively throughout the landscape. As we wandered through the garden, it became obvious that every single detail had been designed systematically and with a clear purpose.

The medicinal and culinary herbs were planted close to the main house, the vegetable garden occupied one of the more open sections of the property, while the fruit trees grew on the opposite side of the hill near the apiary.

On Good Friday, many communities throughout Latin America hold Easter processions through the main streets of their towns and villages. As a sign of devotion, local residents create colorful temporary carpets made from dyed sawdust, flower petals, sand, seeds, and other natural materials. These intricate works of art serve both as expressions of faith and as spiritual offerings. They often take many hours to complete, only to disappear within minutes as the religious procession passes over them.

That afternoon, Hagen, Ranulfo, and I walked into the village center to see the famous street carpets for ourselves. The large-scale designs depicted scenes from the Easter story, and it was obvious that their creators had spent countless hours crafting them.

The procession began at eight o'clock in the evening, setting off from the village church. The streets were filled with local residents. The scent of incense drifted through the air, accompanied by the slow rhythm of drums, religious statues carried on elaborate platforms, and the sound of people singing together.

The scene felt strangely familiar to me, as I had already witnessed similar Easter traditions in Spain. Yet here, in a small rural community surrounded by nature, the experience felt much more intimate, personal, and authentic.

April 19 – Visiting a Local Family

Thanks to the Easter holidays, I had three days off before my volunteer work officially began. Life on the farm normally started around six o'clock every morning. We would begin by watering the plants before moving on to our daily tasks. Since it was still a holiday, however, Ranulfo suggested that we visit a friend of his from the village, who also owned a remarkably large garden.

After lunch, the three of us set off to visit Henry and his family. Their property was only a ten-minute walk away, yet it was even larger than Ranulfo's. Around the house grew an impressive variety of tropical plants and fruit trees—papayas, pineapples, guavas, pomegranates, passion fruit, zapote, tamarind, and many others. Along the edge of the property stretched what was essentially a small private forest, much like Ranulfo's own land, dominated by towering mango trees.

Henry, who was about the same age as Ranulfo, lived there with his wife and their two sons, both of whom were around my age. They were remarkably well-educated and intelligent young men. Both were studying botany at university and had returned home to spend the Easter holidays with their parents.

They welcomed us with exceptional warmth, invited us to join them for lunch, and offered us a selection of fruit grown in their own garden—some of which I had never even heard of before.

On our way back, we stopped at the village tortilla bakery to buy enough tortillas for the following day.

Ranulfo's lifestyle fascinated me. Not only did he produce around seventy to eighty percent of everything he needed himself, but even the remaining twenty to thirty percent didn't come from supermarkets. Instead, he bought meat from the local butcher, tortillas from the village bakery, and dairy products from nearby farmers.

That way of life immediately became one of my long-term goals.

To me, this seemed like the perfect environment in which to settle down, start a family, and gradually build a life that was at least partially self-sufficient.

That was precisely what had drawn me to this volunteer opportunity in the first place. I wasn't just discovering new cultures, meeting new people, and experiencing a different way of life—I was also finding inspiration for the future. Once I achieve the financial independence I'm working toward, I would love to create a similar lifestyle for myself.

Simply walking through the garden, listening to the birds singing, and wandering along the narrow paths filled me with a deep sense of peace. It was here that I truly began to appreciate the extraordinary power of nature—not only over animals, but over people as well.

I noticed the effects on myself almost immediately. The sunshine and fresh air had a calming effect and made me feel healthier and more energized. Whenever I sat in the hammock with a book, the sounds of birds and the quiet rhythms of nature helped me concentrate. Even when my mind wandered, my thoughts almost always drifted toward creative ideas and constructive plans.

Spending time in such a refreshing environment brought me immense joy. Although the original purpose of my journey had been to learn more about Bitcoin adoption in El Salvador, I unexpectedly found myself immersed in an inspiring natural setting that profoundly influenced the way I imagined my future home and the kind of life I hoped to build.

April 20 – Training, Bathing the Dogs, and a Swim in a Mountain Pool

Near the main house, Ranulfo had built a simple outdoor gym for bodyweight training. It wasn't anything fancy, but it had everything I needed to keep exercising during my stay.

My cardiovascular fitness was already in good shape, as I had been running regularly for almost two years. Strength training, however, had largely fallen out of my routine. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring it back by doing pull-ups, dips, push-ups, and weightlifting whenever I had the chance.

Since we still had another day off, I had plenty of time to work out that morning.

Afterwards, Ranulfo asked me to help Hagen bathe the dogs. The two Vizslas were thoroughly washed once a month and treated with an anti-flea oil afterward.

We managed to lure one of them over with food and secure it to a chain without much trouble. The black one, however, proved much cleverer and kept running away every time we got close. Eventually, we managed to tie it to a tree. We rinsed both dogs with water, shampooed them thoroughly, and then washed away all the soap with clean water.

I had always wanted to have a dog of my own, but until then I had never really had the opportunity. Through my volunteer experiences I had already gained some experience taking care of animals, but bathing a dog was something entirely new to me.

That afternoon, Ranulfo suggested that we visit a nearby swimming pool. Although it wasn't particularly far away, it was located high up in the mountains, and the road leading there was completely unpaved.

He kindly offered to drive us there and suggested that we simply hike back down to the farm afterward. Hagen and I were both delighted by how thoughtful and generous Ranulfo was.

Ranulfo owned a Mitsubishi pickup truck, which was practically essential for reaching the place. From the foot of the mountain onward, there was no asphalt road at all—only a steep, rocky dirt track full of loose gravel, potholes, and deep ruts. Even by car, the climb took nearly half an hour.

When we finally arrived, we were greeted by breathtaking scenery. After thanking Ranulfo and saying goodbye, we settled onto a terrace beside the pool. From there, we enjoyed magnificent views of the surrounding mountains and the enormous reservoir formed by the Lempa River stretching across the landscape in the distance.

The entrance fee to the pool was just two dollars. Because it was still a holiday, there were quite a few visitors, although they were almost exclusively local families.

The pool itself was relatively small—roughly ten by five meters—but it was the perfect place to cool off in the tropical heat. Afterwards, we relaxed on the terrace, drying off while admiring the spectacular panorama.

Throughout my stay, Hagen and I spoke exclusively in Spanish, even though both of us could have communicated much more easily in English or German. His Spanish was still quite limited, and he often lacked basic vocabulary, but I patiently let him express himself and helped whenever he was searching for a word or expression.

On our walk back to the farm, a powerful tropical thunderstorm caught up with us. Fortunately, we were already close to Bambú. Even so, we were completely soaked by the time we arrived.

I never minded getting caught in tropical rain. Even during a heavy downpour, the temperature remained around 20–25°C (68–77°F), making the rain feel surprisingly refreshing rather than unpleasant. It was the perfect ending to another memorable day in the Salvadoran countryside.