#12: BANKING IN EL SALVADOR

A Maze of Forms and Fumbles

Tom Lanoye Is Right in El Salvador Too: “It’s All the Banks’ Fault, Tonyke!” (For Dutch-speaking readers, click on the link for the relevant video clip. Fantastic film by the way!)

El Salvador’s making strides, shaking off its old “murder capital” stigma and stepping into a brighter spotlight. It’s an exciting place to call home. But the banks? They’re so paranoid about steering clear of money-laundering rumors that opening an account as foreigners feels like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Let’s just say our banking adventure has been a wild ride, complete with plot twists and a few facepalms.

Before we knew what we were in for, Jim and I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to open a bank account. Oh, the optimism! We spent a whole day zigzagging across Sonsonate, popping into one bank after another with our passports and a hopeful smile. Big mistake. Every teller gave us the same blank look, muttered something in Spanish we couldn’t quite catch, and sent us away with empty hands. Only one bank gave us a little bit of hope, telling us we might have a better chance at their head office in San Salvador. No one spoke English, and no one seemed eager to help. After hours of this fruitless treasure hunt, we limped home—sweaty, frustrated, and empty-handed. Clearly, we needed a guide.

That’s when Alejandro, our real estate agent and guardian angel, stepped in. He pulled strings to land us an appointment at a big bank’s head office in San Salvador. Mainor—another godsend—drove Jim to the meeting. After two hours (yep, two hours to open one account!), Jim slid $200 cash across the counter to put on our brand new bank account. Done deal? Not even close.

Alejandro

To test the waters, we tried transferring €200 from Jim’s Revolut account to our shiny new Salvadoran account. Days ticked by. Crickets. After five days, the money boomeranged back to Revolut, shaved down by bank fees, of course. Undaunted, we gave it another shot with €200 from our Belgian bank. That landed in a snap, so we got cocky. Since we needed funds for the taxes and registration of our house, we sent €1,000, then two transfers of €5,000 each. The bank sent us perky emails confirming the money had arrived. We clinked glasses… way too early.

None of it showed up. Turns out, foreign transfers require a mysterious form, and not a soul at the bank speaks English. Mainor, bless his patient heart, stepped up, burning hours on the phone to sort it out. Back to the bank we went, cooling our heels for three hours while a clerk filled out the form and swore we could now send €25,000 without a hitch. Come Monday, the account was still empty. The bank had bounced the money back to Belgium, but—plot twist—it didn’t arrive there either. After ten days of Mainor’s relentless calls and our increasingly desperate emails to both banks, the money finally resurfaced in Belgium. Minus another round of fees, of course.

At this point, we started to understand why so many locals skip banks and stick to cash. But we’re stubborn, so we tried again. Another transfer, another email about another form. Mainor, thoroughly fed up, dialed the bank with a polite-but-pointed tone. Suddenly, we were handed off to someone from the “international payments” department. Still no English speakers, but with DeepL and Grok as our trusty translators, we muddled through. This new contact was a breath of fresh air—quick, helpful, and giving us hope that the worst might be behind us.

But there’s good news: the government’s apparently sent a memo urging banks to make it easier for foreigners to open accounts. Hallelujah! But if El Salvador wants to welcome foreign investors, it’s downright bizarre that their “international banking department” doesn’t have a single employee who speaks an international language like English. How does that even work? A few bilingual staff would go a long way to cut through the chaos. For now, we’re hanging in there, chuckling at the sheer absurdity of it all, and crossing our fingers for a day when banking doesn’t feel like a maddening wild goose chase.