El Salvador has many more fair-skinned and tall people than Guatemala. The only way I can tell who the tourists are here is by our more shabby dress. I felt like a giant in Guatemala and parts of neighboring Chiapas and Oaxaca in Mexico, where the people are also of Mayan ancestry.
The shoulders here are 4m wide and consistent, great for cycling, and the traffic is not terribly heavy. There are many other cyclists on the road, too; though they are more likely to be riding on the left shoulder than the right. One drunken cyclist almost ran into me. Public urination, by men, seems socially acceptable. Twice now I’ve seen men pee, one on his truck tire on the busy highway (I would pee on the passenger side tire and only at night) another guy peed in the ditch with his pregnant wife standing nearby. Hiding behind a tree was not attempted.
I asked a couple of men about the civil war here from 1980-1992, and they both got choked up recalling it. “There was machine gun fire right here on this street.” 75,000 people died as a result of the conflict.