Puerto Ayora in 21 Hours

Saturday morning I woke up really early after inadvertantly sleeping 11 hours when I laid down for a short nap the night before. I decided to make phone calls to the family and grab a bit to eat before looking for my tour agency again. Since everything seemed to be closed at 7:30am, I stopped by the city grocery store and found a banana, warm carton of oj, and a small loaf of bread. I parked myself on a bench looking out at the anchored yachts and had my breakfast.

Belly full, I went looking for the tour agency. The search ended an hour later when I realized I was at the entrance of the Charles Darwin Foundation museum and research center. Charles arrived in the Galapagos in 1835 on the Beagle, a British naval ship, and spent five short weeks on the islands. Decades later he wrote his book on evolution and dedicated less than 1% of the book to the Galapagos. And now thousands of tourists arrive each year to gift shops full of t-shirts with his face on them. And he has a museum in his name.

The exhibit was informative and the tortise breeding grounds were "cute". In a pin holding the large male tortises I found Teresa and Gina (not tortises). Teresa had just flown in from L.A. to visit her friend Gina, who was volunteering at the Foundation as a guide and commincations director. Gina had quit her job in health care four months earlier and came to the islands as a volunteer for two months before traveling for two more. She fell in love with the islands, and her work at the Foundation, and decided to stay. We chatted about working abroad and I casually mentioned how nifty it would be to work as a graphic designer in the Galapagos Islands. She said they were actually in need of one and that if I was serious, and not interested in making much money, I should follow up. Since she and her visiting friend needed to meet another friend, I typed her number into my phone and suggested we all meet up later that night to talk about it more and hangout. And then I went to look at more tortises.

When I had seen all the captive tortises I could handle, I went off in search of my tour agency again. This was an adventure. I asked five different shop owners if they knew the street or name of the agency. They didn`t. I checked my email to see if they had responded to my note asking for directions. They had. No directions, but a phone number. So I called the number. No English. I managed to understand that I should find a cab and ask to be taken to the Encantada (the name of my yacht) office. And so I did this. My cab dropped me off, I paid him $1, and turned around to see I was at the Encantada radio station office. Wrong Encantada. Next cab. I asked for the Encantada office that wasn`t a radio staion and was taken to a house with no signs on the edge of the small town. I looked at him with skepticism. He said this was the place. I asked if he was sure. He said yes. I paid him $1. He drove off. The lady that answered the door said this was not the Encantada office. Ugh. I walked back to the main street and found a small shop. The young couple inside were most helpful, in Spanish, with directions on how to get to the Encantada office. I got most of it. Then I got lost. I asked three more shop keepers in the vicinity of where I thought I was supposed to go. They pointed and I followed. And finally, at 1pm, I strolled past a garage like shop with scuba gear and a woman who shouted my name. It was the woman I called much earlier. She was waiting for me. Patiently. I was to find my guide back at the airport first thing tomorrow morning. Got it. I think. She told me in Spanish.

I had her point me back to the main street and along the way I found the AeroGal airline office. Sweet! I could ask about my jacket. Apparently I would have to do this in Spanish too since no one there spoke English. I used Spanish, English and sign language to explain that I had left my new black jacket on the plane and that I hoped to retrieve it. A phone call was made. My jacket was at the airline office at the airport. Awesome. My communication skills rock. Time to congratulate myself with some lunch. A big lunch.

Afterwards it was time to relax. I decided to walk to Turtle Bay, a white sand beach about 3kms outside of town. The 30 minute walk was quiet and full of finch sitings. The beach was beautiful. And, as if to remind me I was on the Galapagos, I watched an iguana walk down the beach and into the crashing waves. I chilled. I followed Sally Light-Foot crabs. I explored paths that were, at times, blocked by numerous iguanas. I also saw boobies. The blue-footed birds. What more was there to see? The beach closed at 6pm and so I walked back to town to see if I could catch the second half of the Ecuador/Paraguay soccer game over a beer.

The town`s bars were suddenly full. Everyone was staring down tvs and yelling in unison. I acted defeated when Ecuador lost. When in Rome...

I texted Gina about meeting up and went off in search of a bar to hang at for a bit. Two grande beers later I hadn`t heard from her so I called. The number didn`t work. I had missed a number when I typed it into my phone. And my chances to work as a graphic designer on the Galapagos islands were now finished.

But wait. The bartender asked why I was at the bar alone. I told him I was traveling solo. But I also told him about the volunteer I had met earlier and how I mistyped her phone number and was now unable to find out about a job. He asked who the volunteer was and I told him. "Oh sure, Gina. She comes in her on the weekends. You`ll probably see her in an hour or two." Really?? And the night was looking up again. The bartender was just finishing his shift and came around to join me. He asked where I was from and, when he heard the U.S., said this was reason enough to do shots with him. I had watched him drink beer after beer as he searved everyone else at the bar. He was well on his way to drunkeness. But who was I to refuse this man`s requests. And so we did shots. Of tequila. I almost threw up on him. Maybe I should have. That would have stopped me from continuing down the stupid spiral I was entering. The night started to get foggy about this time (as one would expect it to).

A short time later the bartender introduced me to a girl who entered who worked with Gina at the foundation. I chattered her up for a bit-she was from Canada, working for the year as part of her studies. I explained the phone problem and she called Gina and told her where I was. My bartender friend conintued to offer shots. A short time later the friend and I were walking across the street to a large (in relation to the island bars) club. Gina would meet us here. The place was packed with people my age. I couldn`t figure out where they had all come from. I didn`t think there were this many people on the island. I got passed off to other friends who clearly did not yet know how drunk I was. They in turn passed me off to other friends. There was some awkward dancing. There were conversations repeated several times for my benefit. I talked to Gina at some point. Then I lost track of her. I got passed off to the point that around 3am, when I was chugging water like it was...water, I was talking to three locals who had no idea who Gina or her friend were. But they were fairly certain I needed help getting home. They were right. Since I couldn`t remember the name of my hotel, I offered landmarks to help them guide me to my hotel. Thankfully, Puerto Ayora is small. They got me to the hotel entrance, asked me to check my pockets to make sure I was still in possession of everything, and reminded me I needed to be awake early for my ride to the airport. I thanked them. Then I fell asleep. Mostly in my bed. Without setting my alarm.