Pupusas, are not Nicaraguan. They’re actually from El Salvador, a neighboring country, but they’re pretty prevalent here too. Essentially, they’re a contained quesadilla, and we love them. I even considered routing us through El Salvador just to get them from the source. Which, to me, seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. The flights, however didn’t work out. So we would have to suffice finding them here.
Walking, after a long, hot day of seeing the city by foot we were headed back to the hotel for lunch. On the way, we passed a bright teal, low lying building with the sign “Hay Pupusas.” It also said, “Hay Sandwish,” which I presume is exactly what it sounds like. Looking inside the door there was a young woman standing by a grill and a few simple tables. As we passed, we debated going in. Retrospectively, I don’t know why we even debated it, but we were cautious of this place we knew nothing about. And unlike street food, it wasn’t entirely clear how the dishes were being prepared. But, we came to our senses and went in. We split a pupusa and soda, served up from the incredibly friendly young woman we saw earlier. It was, of course, the correct choice as the pupusa was delicious, made better only by the novel environment and feeling we had “discovered” something unique.
Mid way through our meal the skies opened up for the first rain shower during the day since we arrived. There was about a thirty second warning as the sky darkened and small droplets hit the pavement. Then, it poured. A lot. It was one of the heaviest rains I’ve ever seen. Had we not chosen to go inside, we would have been stuck somewhere in the rain. And that was not a rain you’d care to be stuck in. It was as if the universe had rewarded our curiosity. By the time we left the skies had cleared and it wouldn’t rain for the remainder of our time in Granada.