Because time was getting tight we all decided to leave Cuenca a day earlier than we had planned. Friday morning we did a mass mailing from Cuenca`s post office of items we didn`t want to carry any longer. Also, the thought of mailing items from Peru seemed less secure than Ecuador. Those of you receiving postcards from me, let me know if they actually arrive.
At the bus station a short time later Mark bought a ticket bound for Peru`s coast and my travel buddy and I bought tickets to Loja, Ecuador; a city four hours south where we could pick up a bus to cross the Ecuador/Peru border. Our buses were leaving immediately and so we rushed on board. The entire four hours was spent reading and trying to tune out the reggaeton that has been a staple on each bus so far.
Our hostal was in the middle of the city. We were led to our dorm room of four beds for just the two of us. As we unpacked the sound of a big band came through our doors over-looking the busy street below. Just down on the corner a military band had set up in front of a construction site and started to play. A nice welcome to Loja.
We were both hungry and decided it was time to find a restaurant and see the city in the process. The city wasn`t all that big, but it was busy. People were every where. And most of these people were kids. And four of these kids were piled into a car that drove past us during our walk. As these kids drove past, one shouted "HEEEY GRINGO!". I shouted back "HEY!". Another nice welcome to Loja.
That night we decided to check out Loja`s bar scene which, according to Lonely Planet, consisted of two bars. One of which was no longer there. There were other bars. At 10pm on a Friday the city was full of kids and young adults standing in lines for various bars. But we decided to play it safe and try the second bar Lonely Planet refered to as "a rustic old watering hole, perfect for a relaxed drink". That and we were in no mood for more reggaeton. We found El Viejo Minero (The Old Miner) and walked right in. Right in front of everyone staring towards the soccer match on the film screen beside the front door. Awkward. And there were no seats to immediately hide in.
Fortunately the game ended two minutes later opening up several tables, and into one we dove. It was a relaxed place for a beer, decorated to look like a mine shaft. Sort of. We ordered a round and chatted. Then in walked five guys who marched straight to the small stage area in front of the bar. They started picking up the instruments we thought were left over from a band that might have played earlier. Then they started to rock. So much for a relaxed drink.
During the first few songs everyone in the band seemed nervous. The singer had one hand in his pocket while the other gripped the mike. Odd since there were only about 12 people in the bar. But with the encouragement of our waiter (who reminded me of the crazy big guy in Bachelor Party), who was whistling and yelling enough to make it seem like they had an audience of 20, they started to get more comfortable and began rocking harder. They were actually really good - in a late 80s heavy metal sort of way. The lead guitarist drove through great solos. The drummer followed with his Metallica-esque banging. And the lead singer wailed like Chris Cornell. And then they did a cover of Radiohead`s "Creep" and the fun was over. They butchered it. It was the only song they did in English and it was clear the singer didn`t really know the words. And there was no bang of the guitar before the chorus. Awful. We couldn`t bring ourselves to applaud.
Thankfully afterwards they went right back to rocking out. And the bar filled up steadily. People were really into it. Including the pair of guys sitting in front of us with black jean jackets and spiked leather braceletes, banging their heads and giving each other high fives. They were henceforth referred to as Beavis and Butthead. We stuck around the entire set; even when they took a short break. And because I had just downed three grande beers, I decided to stay longer when they finished. And order another. We finally arrived back at the hostal around 1am. And went to bed completely rocked out. Enter Sandman.
For pictures of Loja, and a few more from later, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603391460468/
Friday, December 7, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Two Discoveries (in Cuenca): One Bad, One Good
Before coming to Cuenca I had decided two days would be plenty. After arriving I decided I would need three. My travel buddy, her friend, and I spent our second full day exploring the city on foot. We walked its streets taking in all its charm. We did this the first hour and a half because we could not find the restaurant we were looking for. Nevertheless, Cuenca was a great city to get lost in.
We walked along its river (which looked like a slice of Switzerland), we glanced at its Inca ruins (what was left only required a glance), we visited it`s museums (and snuck pictures of monkey skeletons), and we ate for hours at its restaurants housed in colonial buildings (because we had to wait out the rain to stop).
That night I was looking forward to catching the UNC game against Ohio State. In the States the game was playing across the country on ESPN at 9pm. I asked and asked some more where there was a place that would show U.S. basketball games. Answers varied, but the best option seemed to be a sports bar in the newer section of town. I managed to talk the other two into joining me, warning them things could get ugly. We arrived at the sports bar more than an hour early for the game. The bar was empty but looked promising; flat-screen TVs lined the walls. Yes, they all were showing soccer games, but the odds looked good. I asked a waiter if they were able to get the game. He happily offered to flip through the Direct TV menu to see what channel it was playing on. My wide grin shrank steadily as he scrolled through over 600 channels without seeing any mention of a college basketball game. He patiently scrolled through them again. And then just once more to be sure. Nothing. A prime time game on ESPN in the States did not interest Ecuadorians?? This question seemed to amuse my coworker when I asked him later.
And thus the realization that I would probably not see one UNC game during my travels. I was not a happy camper for the rest of the night. I did park myself in front of a computer at a cyber cafe hitting refresh over and over to see updates for the game. UNC won. *sigh*
Cuenca did have more to offer though. We discovered this the next day as we went in search of the outdoor markets. After a few distractions along the way (an ad outside of a women`s underwear shop showed undies with fake cheeks attached - had to check that out), we came to the area of Cuenca one goes for fresh fruits and veggies. And meats. And when I say fresh meats, I mean still squeeling. We went a little crazy. We bought a little of almost everything (except the meats). When we saw kids hunched over a pod-like object, Mark had to find out what it was. It was big. And sweet. We looked for other things we didn`r recognize. We found items in a variety of shapes and colors. We chatted with the vendors. We tried to take pictures. The vendors tried to charge us. We declined. But we walked away with three large bags full of fruits and veggies. We were pleased with ourselves. We bought breads from a bakery. And we celebrated our purchases by making sandwiches. Bellies full, yet again, we decided to celebrate our find again; this time at Cuenca`s thermal baths. This time they were clean. And there was classical music. And there were no kids. All was right with the world. I almost forgot about missing the UNC season.
Almost.
All pics of Cuenca can be found here:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603376142164/
We walked along its river (which looked like a slice of Switzerland), we glanced at its Inca ruins (what was left only required a glance), we visited it`s museums (and snuck pictures of monkey skeletons), and we ate for hours at its restaurants housed in colonial buildings (because we had to wait out the rain to stop).
That night I was looking forward to catching the UNC game against Ohio State. In the States the game was playing across the country on ESPN at 9pm. I asked and asked some more where there was a place that would show U.S. basketball games. Answers varied, but the best option seemed to be a sports bar in the newer section of town. I managed to talk the other two into joining me, warning them things could get ugly. We arrived at the sports bar more than an hour early for the game. The bar was empty but looked promising; flat-screen TVs lined the walls. Yes, they all were showing soccer games, but the odds looked good. I asked a waiter if they were able to get the game. He happily offered to flip through the Direct TV menu to see what channel it was playing on. My wide grin shrank steadily as he scrolled through over 600 channels without seeing any mention of a college basketball game. He patiently scrolled through them again. And then just once more to be sure. Nothing. A prime time game on ESPN in the States did not interest Ecuadorians?? This question seemed to amuse my coworker when I asked him later.
And thus the realization that I would probably not see one UNC game during my travels. I was not a happy camper for the rest of the night. I did park myself in front of a computer at a cyber cafe hitting refresh over and over to see updates for the game. UNC won. *sigh*
Cuenca did have more to offer though. We discovered this the next day as we went in search of the outdoor markets. After a few distractions along the way (an ad outside of a women`s underwear shop showed undies with fake cheeks attached - had to check that out), we came to the area of Cuenca one goes for fresh fruits and veggies. And meats. And when I say fresh meats, I mean still squeeling. We went a little crazy. We bought a little of almost everything (except the meats). When we saw kids hunched over a pod-like object, Mark had to find out what it was. It was big. And sweet. We looked for other things we didn`r recognize. We found items in a variety of shapes and colors. We chatted with the vendors. We tried to take pictures. The vendors tried to charge us. We declined. But we walked away with three large bags full of fruits and veggies. We were pleased with ourselves. We bought breads from a bakery. And we celebrated our purchases by making sandwiches. Bellies full, yet again, we decided to celebrate our find again; this time at Cuenca`s thermal baths. This time they were clean. And there was classical music. And there were no kids. All was right with the world. I almost forgot about missing the UNC season.
Almost.
All pics of Cuenca can be found here:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603376142164/
My Kinda Town, Cuenca Is
Tuesday morning I cabbed to the bus station in Guayaquil, got my ticket, and waited. I arrived too early. This allowed time for two young local women to approach me asking if I knew what happened to us after death. My eyes quickly darted down to the small booklet being thrust in my direction. Did I know Jesus? I assured them I did, took the booklet, thanked them, and said I needed to catch my bus. Bye Guayaquil.
The bus was luxury. At least compared to my previous bus experiences. There was a bathroom, the seats reclined, and it was near empty. I stretched out, turned on my iPod, and enjoyed the ride. We drove from the tropics to foggy hills (and a man passed out in the middle of the road) to mountain peaks (and unpaved roads) to rolling green hills that reminded me of Switzerland. We passed through indeginous villages where women dug ditches while the men watched. And we passed another man passed out in the middle of the road.
Four and a half hours later I arrived in Cuenca, Ecuador`s third largest city. A cab took me through the brick streets of this colonial UNESCO World Heritage Site. And those streets were immaculate. I was dropped at a hostal run by an older woman and her three beautiful, young daughters. All of which either had kids or were having kids shortly. The hostal was interesting; colorful, but empty. I saw one other guy as I was led to my room. And then I never saw him again. After dumping my pack it was finally time to get my laundry done. The old woman saw me with arms full of dirty clothes and said she could take care of them. I happily turned them over to her. No washing underwear in the sink tonight...
Next chore was to find a shop where I could replace the glasses I lost in Quito. Ah, but at 2pm the city was in the middle of its siesta time. Nothing was open. Except a pizza joint. And here I waited until three while eating two slices of "NY" pizza. And a Fanta. Fanta ALWAYS tastes better over seas.
Finally I saw the shop across the street open and in I went. And no one spoke English. Not the kind of scenerio in which I wanted to practise my Spanish. But I managed to indicate that I had lost my glasses, needed a new pair, and would probably lose them again so keep them cheap. The lady helping me was intent on showing me thin rimmed glasses even though I kept pointing to thick rimmed ones. Finally it hit me that she was showing me the cheapest frames in the shop. When I asked how much they were, and she told me $35, I suggested we could look at slightly more expensive glasses. And suddenly I was into the thick rimmed section. Once I picked out a pair I asked how many days it would take. I could pick them up at 5pm. Tomorrow? No, today. Cuenca is awesome. And for the next hour and half I explored the city in all its colonial grandeur.
Cuenca was great! Beautiful, charming, historic, clean, friendly, and even quiet(ish). Aside from the obligatory car alarms. How is it no matter where I am in S America, I can always hear a car alarm going off. I have memorized the five different tunes.
I picked up my glasses at 5pm and they were perfect. I could now write blogs again! Or at least see them. I started walking back to the hostal to pay when my phone rang. My travel buddy, and roommate, from Quito had just arrived in Cuenca. I had told her I was coming here for a few days. She had met up with a friend from home in Quito and the two of them bused down to meet me. I told them where I was staying and 30 minutes later they met me at the hostal. Well, technically at the internet cafe beside the hostal. I was excited to use my new glasses.
We walked to a bar that Lonely Planet recommended. The description said it had fire places, couches, and microbrews. There were no microbrews, but the fire was enough to keep me there. We caught up on the events of the past 12 days and I met her friend Mark, who was also traveling for 8 months. Mark has been working for part of the national park service in Vancouver since high school and had managed to build enough of a rep there to secure a hefty sabbatication. We continued to chat even as a man got up on stage and sang tunes to his guitar. It was nice background music. And then there was the old French man. He was sitting at a table with his wife, having a drink, when he asked if he could play a couple of songs. He was unfortunately obliged. He was awful. And when he started singing Bob Dylan`s "Blowing in the Wind" the room looked like it had had enough. He was politely applauded, but the original player decided it was time to reclaim his guitar. We agreed.
For pics of my time in Cuenca, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603376142164/
(I have no idea how to flip a video over in youtube, so if anyone knows, tell me!)
The bus was luxury. At least compared to my previous bus experiences. There was a bathroom, the seats reclined, and it was near empty. I stretched out, turned on my iPod, and enjoyed the ride. We drove from the tropics to foggy hills (and a man passed out in the middle of the road) to mountain peaks (and unpaved roads) to rolling green hills that reminded me of Switzerland. We passed through indeginous villages where women dug ditches while the men watched. And we passed another man passed out in the middle of the road.
Four and a half hours later I arrived in Cuenca, Ecuador`s third largest city. A cab took me through the brick streets of this colonial UNESCO World Heritage Site. And those streets were immaculate. I was dropped at a hostal run by an older woman and her three beautiful, young daughters. All of which either had kids or were having kids shortly. The hostal was interesting; colorful, but empty. I saw one other guy as I was led to my room. And then I never saw him again. After dumping my pack it was finally time to get my laundry done. The old woman saw me with arms full of dirty clothes and said she could take care of them. I happily turned them over to her. No washing underwear in the sink tonight...
Next chore was to find a shop where I could replace the glasses I lost in Quito. Ah, but at 2pm the city was in the middle of its siesta time. Nothing was open. Except a pizza joint. And here I waited until three while eating two slices of "NY" pizza. And a Fanta. Fanta ALWAYS tastes better over seas.
Finally I saw the shop across the street open and in I went. And no one spoke English. Not the kind of scenerio in which I wanted to practise my Spanish. But I managed to indicate that I had lost my glasses, needed a new pair, and would probably lose them again so keep them cheap. The lady helping me was intent on showing me thin rimmed glasses even though I kept pointing to thick rimmed ones. Finally it hit me that she was showing me the cheapest frames in the shop. When I asked how much they were, and she told me $35, I suggested we could look at slightly more expensive glasses. And suddenly I was into the thick rimmed section. Once I picked out a pair I asked how many days it would take. I could pick them up at 5pm. Tomorrow? No, today. Cuenca is awesome. And for the next hour and half I explored the city in all its colonial grandeur.
Cuenca was great! Beautiful, charming, historic, clean, friendly, and even quiet(ish). Aside from the obligatory car alarms. How is it no matter where I am in S America, I can always hear a car alarm going off. I have memorized the five different tunes.
I picked up my glasses at 5pm and they were perfect. I could now write blogs again! Or at least see them. I started walking back to the hostal to pay when my phone rang. My travel buddy, and roommate, from Quito had just arrived in Cuenca. I had told her I was coming here for a few days. She had met up with a friend from home in Quito and the two of them bused down to meet me. I told them where I was staying and 30 minutes later they met me at the hostal. Well, technically at the internet cafe beside the hostal. I was excited to use my new glasses.
We walked to a bar that Lonely Planet recommended. The description said it had fire places, couches, and microbrews. There were no microbrews, but the fire was enough to keep me there. We caught up on the events of the past 12 days and I met her friend Mark, who was also traveling for 8 months. Mark has been working for part of the national park service in Vancouver since high school and had managed to build enough of a rep there to secure a hefty sabbatication. We continued to chat even as a man got up on stage and sang tunes to his guitar. It was nice background music. And then there was the old French man. He was sitting at a table with his wife, having a drink, when he asked if he could play a couple of songs. He was unfortunately obliged. He was awful. And when he started singing Bob Dylan`s "Blowing in the Wind" the room looked like it had had enough. He was politely applauded, but the original player decided it was time to reclaim his guitar. We agreed.
For pics of my time in Cuenca, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603376142164/
(I have no idea how to flip a video over in youtube, so if anyone knows, tell me!)
My Hate/Love Relationship With Guayaquil
Monday morning I was up at 9am. I popped on the tube for some background noise while I showered, shaved, unpacked everything and gathered up my dirty clothes. "Friends" was on. I got sucked in. I know, I really hate that show. But it was the first American show I had seen in English since I arrived in South America. I was hooked for two episodes. Don`t judge me until you are in the same situation.
When the second episode ended and Dawson`s Creek began, I was able to pull myself away the tv to actually get the earlier mentioned things done. I shoved all of my dirty clothes into my daypack along with my two cameras and a few memory cards. Down I went to confirm the location of the laundry the guy at the desk pointed out on a map the night before. Yep, still there.
Two blocks later there was no sign of a laundry. I walked down a few other blocks just to make sure I didn`t miss it. Nothing. No laundries any where. I decided to go looking for an internet cafe, hoping to find a laundry on the way. I was wearing my clothes from the previous day and really wanted something fresh for the next day.
Guayaquil is just a big city. There is nothing really unique about it aside from it being the biggest city in Ecuador. It is not really in close proximity to anything so tourists tend to skip it. I did not see another gringo all day. Just lots of Guayaquillanos going about their daily business. I eventually found an internet cafe near a large park square (but no laundry) and darted in. It was hot out and I desperately wanted to cool down in the air conditioned room. Here I killed 3.5 hours uploading and editing the 1000 pics I took in the Galapagos. I emailed friends, took care of banking duties, and added a few blog entries. Around 2:30 I realized I had not had anything to eat all day. I grabbed my bag full o` dirty clothes and hit the streets in search of food.
As I made my way further and further down the road, the businesses got smaller and poorer. People selling random things from the sidewalk were everywhere now, in front of tiny shops selling other random things. When I had not hit the river front after 11 blocks I pulled out my map and realized I had been walking down the wrong street, deeper and deeper into the city. Time to take a break and get something to eat, anywhere. There was a hole in the wall Chinese restaurant to my left with all the cooking being done right at the door. It did not look in the least bit sanitary. But I was starving. And the menu scribbled on the wall said a plate of chicken and rice was $1. Sold.
I ordered and waited. Out came a huge plate of chicken and rice. I looked over to where my dish had just come from. Refrigerated meat? Ha! Not here. I dug in anyway. It was really good. Or I was just really hungry. As I wolfed it down I noticed a man who was eating behind me walk around to the entrance and buy a cup of coke from a guy selling portions of a bottle outside. When he returned and sat down, I turned to ask him how much the cup was, bumping his table in the process and spilling some of the drink. Ugh. He did not look happy. I apologized and asked again. He told me 10 cents. I offered him 20 cents to pay for the spill. He now looked really happy. And this began a broken conversation about where I was from and where all he had been. Oh, he had been every where in the world. So he claimed. All over the U.S. too, except, where was I from?, no, never been to there. I agreed he was quite the traveler, and tried to return to eating. But wait, he had been to other places. Finally he finished his food and said it was time to go. Then he ran out after a girl who had walked by. I was now able to finish my meal. And study a map.
I paid $1.25 for my large plate and a bottle of water and headed back up the street in the opposite direction. I bumped into a large market area of vendors selling everything one could possibly want. I tried walking through the maze and quickly got lost. There was no map of this area. Being the only gringo in there, I received lots of attention. This kept me from taking candid shots, but it helped when I asked for directions out. Clearly I did not belong. Nor did I want any of the hundreds of Tupac shirts.
I exited the maze right at the riverfront and Guayaquil`s pride and joy: Malecon 2000. It was still full of families. I took a stroll and enjoyed the serenity of it all. Guayaquil wasn`t so bad; you just need to appreciate it as a large city, built for it`s residents, not tourists. I cut back into the city to check out a few of the parks, including one with dozens of iguanas crawling around. People were out enjoying everything the city had to offer. This area was actually quite attractive. I passed monuments to independence and past leaders, large beautiful churches, and trendy little restaurants full of people. Back to the Malecon 2000, I made my way to Las Peñas, a hillside section of the city made to look like a Spanish town. Up the numbered stairs I continued taking in the lively colors and music coming from its many small bars. And finally at the top I had a magnificant view of Guayaquil and the river. Not a bad city at all. Even though I was still carrying my daypack full of dirty laundry.
It was now 5:45 and I decided to take a cab to the bus station to find out departure times for Cuenca the next day. The cab driver told me about the wealthy people of Guayaquil and pointed out the areas where they lived in mansions with heavy security. When he dropped me at the bus station I paid him $4 and went off in search of a ticket. A ticket to Cuenca cost $6, but I would have to buy it the day of my departure. Buses left every 45 mins so I said I would be back at 8:30am. Then I took another $4 cab back to my hostal. $8 to find out I could buy a $6 ticket to Cuenca the next day. Mental note: just buy tickets when you are ready to go.
Back at my hostal I organized my pack again, stuffing the dirty laundry inside. "Seinfeld" was now on and I got sucked in again. Two episodes later I forced myself out to take in the city again at night. This time I enjoyed it more. Christmas lights were starting to appear. People were out enjoying the park squares, eating ice cream, kids dancing around costumed characters. Every one seemed proud of their city. As well they should be. Guayaquil is a great city. You just need to know how to appreciate it. And come with plenty of clean clothes. I finished the night washing a pair of underwear in the sink...
For pics of my time in Guayaquil, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603375798858/
When the second episode ended and Dawson`s Creek began, I was able to pull myself away the tv to actually get the earlier mentioned things done. I shoved all of my dirty clothes into my daypack along with my two cameras and a few memory cards. Down I went to confirm the location of the laundry the guy at the desk pointed out on a map the night before. Yep, still there.
Two blocks later there was no sign of a laundry. I walked down a few other blocks just to make sure I didn`t miss it. Nothing. No laundries any where. I decided to go looking for an internet cafe, hoping to find a laundry on the way. I was wearing my clothes from the previous day and really wanted something fresh for the next day.
Guayaquil is just a big city. There is nothing really unique about it aside from it being the biggest city in Ecuador. It is not really in close proximity to anything so tourists tend to skip it. I did not see another gringo all day. Just lots of Guayaquillanos going about their daily business. I eventually found an internet cafe near a large park square (but no laundry) and darted in. It was hot out and I desperately wanted to cool down in the air conditioned room. Here I killed 3.5 hours uploading and editing the 1000 pics I took in the Galapagos. I emailed friends, took care of banking duties, and added a few blog entries. Around 2:30 I realized I had not had anything to eat all day. I grabbed my bag full o` dirty clothes and hit the streets in search of food.
As I made my way further and further down the road, the businesses got smaller and poorer. People selling random things from the sidewalk were everywhere now, in front of tiny shops selling other random things. When I had not hit the river front after 11 blocks I pulled out my map and realized I had been walking down the wrong street, deeper and deeper into the city. Time to take a break and get something to eat, anywhere. There was a hole in the wall Chinese restaurant to my left with all the cooking being done right at the door. It did not look in the least bit sanitary. But I was starving. And the menu scribbled on the wall said a plate of chicken and rice was $1. Sold.
I ordered and waited. Out came a huge plate of chicken and rice. I looked over to where my dish had just come from. Refrigerated meat? Ha! Not here. I dug in anyway. It was really good. Or I was just really hungry. As I wolfed it down I noticed a man who was eating behind me walk around to the entrance and buy a cup of coke from a guy selling portions of a bottle outside. When he returned and sat down, I turned to ask him how much the cup was, bumping his table in the process and spilling some of the drink. Ugh. He did not look happy. I apologized and asked again. He told me 10 cents. I offered him 20 cents to pay for the spill. He now looked really happy. And this began a broken conversation about where I was from and where all he had been. Oh, he had been every where in the world. So he claimed. All over the U.S. too, except, where was I from?, no, never been to there. I agreed he was quite the traveler, and tried to return to eating. But wait, he had been to other places. Finally he finished his food and said it was time to go. Then he ran out after a girl who had walked by. I was now able to finish my meal. And study a map.
I paid $1.25 for my large plate and a bottle of water and headed back up the street in the opposite direction. I bumped into a large market area of vendors selling everything one could possibly want. I tried walking through the maze and quickly got lost. There was no map of this area. Being the only gringo in there, I received lots of attention. This kept me from taking candid shots, but it helped when I asked for directions out. Clearly I did not belong. Nor did I want any of the hundreds of Tupac shirts.
I exited the maze right at the riverfront and Guayaquil`s pride and joy: Malecon 2000. It was still full of families. I took a stroll and enjoyed the serenity of it all. Guayaquil wasn`t so bad; you just need to appreciate it as a large city, built for it`s residents, not tourists. I cut back into the city to check out a few of the parks, including one with dozens of iguanas crawling around. People were out enjoying everything the city had to offer. This area was actually quite attractive. I passed monuments to independence and past leaders, large beautiful churches, and trendy little restaurants full of people. Back to the Malecon 2000, I made my way to Las Peñas, a hillside section of the city made to look like a Spanish town. Up the numbered stairs I continued taking in the lively colors and music coming from its many small bars. And finally at the top I had a magnificant view of Guayaquil and the river. Not a bad city at all. Even though I was still carrying my daypack full of dirty laundry.
It was now 5:45 and I decided to take a cab to the bus station to find out departure times for Cuenca the next day. The cab driver told me about the wealthy people of Guayaquil and pointed out the areas where they lived in mansions with heavy security. When he dropped me at the bus station I paid him $4 and went off in search of a ticket. A ticket to Cuenca cost $6, but I would have to buy it the day of my departure. Buses left every 45 mins so I said I would be back at 8:30am. Then I took another $4 cab back to my hostal. $8 to find out I could buy a $6 ticket to Cuenca the next day. Mental note: just buy tickets when you are ready to go.
Back at my hostal I organized my pack again, stuffing the dirty laundry inside. "Seinfeld" was now on and I got sucked in again. Two episodes later I forced myself out to take in the city again at night. This time I enjoyed it more. Christmas lights were starting to appear. People were out enjoying the park squares, eating ice cream, kids dancing around costumed characters. Every one seemed proud of their city. As well they should be. Guayaquil is a great city. You just need to know how to appreciate it. And come with plenty of clean clothes. I finished the night washing a pair of underwear in the sink...
For pics of my time in Guayaquil, follow this link:
http://flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603375798858/
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
A Futile Attempt at Laundry
Still playing catch-up on the Blog. This entry takes place on the last day of the Galapagos trip. That sunday was my 10th day in the Galapagos and my last morning on the yacht. I thought the crew would drop everyone off at the main town as they had done at the half way mark. But the night before, I was told we were returning to the airport because most people were flying out at noon. I had 10 days worth of laundry and had planned to drop it all off at a lavandaria while going off to explore more of the main island. But that would now require me to take a bus an hour back into town. So during our last landing of the trip, while we were scouting for Frigates with enlarged red balloon-like sacks, I debated whether or not to stay or try and change my flight to a day earlier. Laundry on the Galapagos: expensive. Laundry on the mainland: well, it had to be cheaper.
Our last landing of the trip was on an island a short distance from the airport island. We were looking for randy Frigates; our guide saying there was a 1% chance of seeing them inflating their red sacks for mating rights. I had seen this on a Nat Geo special and was anxious to see it live (I am weird). A 1% chance seemed low. Especially since we saw one within minutes of the landing. And many more 20 minutes later. It was late in the mating season, but there were still a few guys hoping for luck at last call. I was snap-happy with my camera.
After stepping over and around more sea lions, we were picked up and taken back to the yacht for breakfast and to pack. I was looking forward to another big breakfast full of eggs, fruit, and maybe even some bacon. We had bread and cold cuts. Apparently they were going to restock when they dropped us off. As I was packing up my things, and trying to figure out what to do with my boots that stunk of sea lion poo, I decided I might as well see if I could switch my flight to that day and spend the afternoon in Guayaquil. That would help make up for some of the time I lost staying in Quito and extra week.
When I got to the ticket counter and asked about availability, I was told there was room for me to switch, and at no penalty. I asked what time the flight was. I thought the agent said 2pm. I told him that was too late and said nevermind. My yacht guide, who was standing there helping those of us who weren`t fluent (me), told me he said 12pm. Oh, noon is good. I would be in downtown Guayaquil by 3pm. So I switched the flight. This was at 9:30am. Fourty minutes later an announcement said the flight was delayed until 1pm. By this time the buses had departed for the mainland. But an hour wasn`t so bad. Then, at 11am, an announcement said the plane would depart at 2pm. Figured. Those of us from the yacht, waiting on that flight, sat around drinking beers, filling out post cards, and ordering over priced lunches. Then, at 1pm, we were told the flight would leave at 3pm.
The flight left at 4:15pm. We flew a Nestle plane (no idea what that was all about) and were told to take any available seat. I got a window and slept most of the way back.
When we landed in Guayaquil at close to 7pm (the mainland is an hour ahead), I realized it was too late to do laundry, but decided to look in my Lonely Planet guide book for a hostel near a lavandaria. The map showed no lavandarias. I picked a random hostal and then took the book´s advice about walking out past the taxis in front of the airport and out to the main road to flag one down. This supposedly saved me $2. I am cheap. It was worth the hike.
The cab driver knew exactly where my hostal was and we darted through the deserted streets of downtown Guayaquil. The location was not pretty. I asked the cab driver if the neighborhood was safe. He smirked and said "sure". And in I went. The room was really nice (nice for $10 a night). Even came with cable tv. But the tv would turn itself off and back on every few minutes (couldn`t figure that one out). The shower had great pressure and hot water, but no shower curtain. And the toilet was spotless, but had no seat. There was, however, air conditioning. And I needed it. Guayaquil was hot.
I asked the man at the desk about a laundry and he pointed to a place on a paper map where one should be. But it would have to wait until the morning. I asked him if the neighborhood was safe. He said "sure". And so off I went to explore. Guayaquil was not pretty. At least not at night. And I saw no sign of a lavandaria. After walking around for about an hour, I did find a new riverfront plaza that had been put in a few years back and was loaded with families. Here I strolled until, during a phone call with my coworker, I was told it was late and this wasn`t the city to be exploring at night. And so I went back to my hostal and went to bed, amongst 10 days worth of dirty clothes. That would be chore numero uno in the morning.
Our last landing of the trip was on an island a short distance from the airport island. We were looking for randy Frigates; our guide saying there was a 1% chance of seeing them inflating their red sacks for mating rights. I had seen this on a Nat Geo special and was anxious to see it live (I am weird). A 1% chance seemed low. Especially since we saw one within minutes of the landing. And many more 20 minutes later. It was late in the mating season, but there were still a few guys hoping for luck at last call. I was snap-happy with my camera.
After stepping over and around more sea lions, we were picked up and taken back to the yacht for breakfast and to pack. I was looking forward to another big breakfast full of eggs, fruit, and maybe even some bacon. We had bread and cold cuts. Apparently they were going to restock when they dropped us off. As I was packing up my things, and trying to figure out what to do with my boots that stunk of sea lion poo, I decided I might as well see if I could switch my flight to that day and spend the afternoon in Guayaquil. That would help make up for some of the time I lost staying in Quito and extra week.
When I got to the ticket counter and asked about availability, I was told there was room for me to switch, and at no penalty. I asked what time the flight was. I thought the agent said 2pm. I told him that was too late and said nevermind. My yacht guide, who was standing there helping those of us who weren`t fluent (me), told me he said 12pm. Oh, noon is good. I would be in downtown Guayaquil by 3pm. So I switched the flight. This was at 9:30am. Fourty minutes later an announcement said the flight was delayed until 1pm. By this time the buses had departed for the mainland. But an hour wasn`t so bad. Then, at 11am, an announcement said the plane would depart at 2pm. Figured. Those of us from the yacht, waiting on that flight, sat around drinking beers, filling out post cards, and ordering over priced lunches. Then, at 1pm, we were told the flight would leave at 3pm.
The flight left at 4:15pm. We flew a Nestle plane (no idea what that was all about) and were told to take any available seat. I got a window and slept most of the way back.
When we landed in Guayaquil at close to 7pm (the mainland is an hour ahead), I realized it was too late to do laundry, but decided to look in my Lonely Planet guide book for a hostel near a lavandaria. The map showed no lavandarias. I picked a random hostal and then took the book´s advice about walking out past the taxis in front of the airport and out to the main road to flag one down. This supposedly saved me $2. I am cheap. It was worth the hike.
The cab driver knew exactly where my hostal was and we darted through the deserted streets of downtown Guayaquil. The location was not pretty. I asked the cab driver if the neighborhood was safe. He smirked and said "sure". And in I went. The room was really nice (nice for $10 a night). Even came with cable tv. But the tv would turn itself off and back on every few minutes (couldn`t figure that one out). The shower had great pressure and hot water, but no shower curtain. And the toilet was spotless, but had no seat. There was, however, air conditioning. And I needed it. Guayaquil was hot.
I asked the man at the desk about a laundry and he pointed to a place on a paper map where one should be. But it would have to wait until the morning. I asked him if the neighborhood was safe. He said "sure". And so off I went to explore. Guayaquil was not pretty. At least not at night. And I saw no sign of a lavandaria. After walking around for about an hour, I did find a new riverfront plaza that had been put in a few years back and was loaded with families. Here I strolled until, during a phone call with my coworker, I was told it was late and this wasn`t the city to be exploring at night. And so I went back to my hostal and went to bed, amongst 10 days worth of dirty clothes. That would be chore numero uno in the morning.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Lost in Translation
Items recently seen in an Ecuadorian restaurant menu:
Crac legs in garlie sauce
Side fish of ham
Fried pasties
Hot sweat sinnamon rum totddy
Crac legs in garlie sauce
Side fish of ham
Fried pasties
Hot sweat sinnamon rum totddy
Monday, December 3, 2007
Nostalgic
I just walked into a Whole Foods-esque store here in Lima and Christmas music was playing. I am feeling a little homesick right now.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Eight Days Around the Galapagos
Here I am, a week after returning from the Galapagos, and I am two weeks behind on the blog. Sorry readers. I will write about some of the highlights of the Galapagos (there are several comments on the pics I linked to earlier) to keep it short so that I can catch up to where I am now (about to take an 8 hour bus across the border into Peru).
But first, a little history:
The Galapagos were first discovered, by accident, by Tomas de Berlanga - the first bishop of Panama. He was sailing to Peru and managed to drift off course. The islands are 1000km off the coast of Ecuador, so he did quite a bit of drifting. The islands were used by whalers for some time afterwards. As they were full of large tortises (for which the islands are named), sailors would come ashore, gather up the big guys, and take them back to the ship for weeks of fresh meat. They can survive a month or more without water and thus were the perfect stored meat. This brought a population of 200,000 quickly down to 15,000.
The islands are known a) as a habitation of animals found no where else on earth and b) as the place Charles Darwin landed in 1835 as a young man sailing on the Beagle, a British naval vessel. Charles spent 5 weeks on the island, and while there noticed that the several species of finches all had slightly different traits according to the island they inhabited. Decades later he published his book on evolution and now 80,000 foreign visitors arrive each year to see the islands to which he dedicated about 1% of his book. The islands officially became a park in 1959. And now 97% of it is off limits to these tourists.
And now my eight days on a yacht...
Sunday I arrived safely at Baltra Airport after some miscommunication with my transport. There I met the yacht guide and other passengers before boarding the Encantada for eight days and seven nights around the Galapagos Islands.
I was the only U.S. citizen, the rest hailed from:
1 couple from England (young couple on their honeymoon)
2 couples from New Zealand (young couples returning to New Zealand from some years in England)
1 female from Germany (a 33 year old airline pilot)
2 females from Switzerland (two 24 year old nurses. only one could speak english)
1 male from Australia (older guy who burnt his feet so badly the first full day he couldn`t leave the boat the other 6 days).
1 male from Belgium (much older guy who liked to get a little too close to the animals)
I was paired up with the German pilot in the back cabin. Right over what sounded like the engine of a 747. I was able to sleep through that (the German wasn`t). It was the rough rocking of the yacht that killed me. Each night the yacht would sail to a new island so we could explore first thing in the morning. The first night we sailed for four hours. Not so bad. I just sat outside and focused on the horizon. The next night was eight hours. This was pretty rough. The boat rocked from side to side and I rolled precariously close to the edge of my bunk several times. The third night was twelve hours. The boat pitched forward and then back, and at times, in what felt like a full circle. I tried sitting in the dining area and watching tv. I got nauseous. I moved outside to try and focus on the horizon - as it moved up and down about six feet. Still nauseous. I ran into the British bloke who looked equally ill. He said we was taking a half valum and going to bed. I asked for one as well. Then, after several attempts, I climbed into bed. I was out in 10 minutes.
The next morning, everyone looked a mess. Fortunately, there were to be no more long trips. But these did keep me from running up a bar tab.
Each morning we would wake (or, for some, just get up) around 6:30am and either eat breakfast immediately or jump in zodiacs to hit whatever island we had sailed to during the night. Usually we would hike around the island with our guide on designated paths while he pointed out this boobie or that marine iguana. The landscapes were all surreal, no matter which island we were on. Some looked like African savannas, some like Mars, and still others like over-grown deserts. All had some form of wildlife (almost always sea lions) and we needed no prompting to start clicking away with our cameras. A bit of knowledge was imparted to all of us on everything we saw. Why the blue footed boobie did his silly dance. Why the frigate inflated that large red balloon-like sack under his beak. Why the large flat area of land was splattered white. Everything was interesting and I felt like I was living out a National Geographic special.
Around 10am or so, we would head back to the yacht to relax as the yacht moved on to another side of the island or to a new island. Most people sat out on the front deck and sun bathed or read. I tried this the first full day and regretted it for the next three as I gingerly took showers or put new clothes over my bright red skin. Lunch was served around noon. Each meal was incredibly good and filling. We had something new each day and each time of the day. When it came time to tip the crew at the end of the trip, we suggested most go to the cook.
A few more hours of relaxing on board and then another scheduled zodiac landing. More education, more awesome sites, more looking for any shade on a volcanic island to avoid the sun worsening my burn. And then a snorkeling excursion. These were always hit or miss. At times the water would be freezing and not so clear, and no one really looked forward to it. Other times, the water was so clear and the sea life so abundant, we had to be dragged back on board. The water was never really warm, but when you are swimming with a sea turtle or surrounded by sea lions coming at you from every direction, you forget how cold you are. These were the times I couldn`t wipe the smile off my face for hours. There is nothing quite like having a sea lion come darting straight at you and turn inches before hitting you, only to slide back and under you. One of the Brits on the boat attracted these guys when ever we went out. They looked so sad when he finally had to leave the water.
And then it was back to the yacht for afternoon snacks and more relaxing on board. Dinner was served around 6 or 7pm. The captain would, graciously, wait until we were done eating before starting up the motor and heading to the next island. Several nights were spent lounging on the front deck and watching the stars as we moved through the night.
Half way through the trip, those that only signed up for a four day cruise (all but five of us) were dropped off on the main island and we picked up seven more. The group included now included three more Americans (one gal from San Fran traveling for a month and an Indian couple who had moved to Canada and then Washington), two Dutch (a couple also traveling for a month, but for some reason not into snorkeling) and a British couple celebrating their second honeymoon (they decided their first was too short). Everyone got along really well and the mood of the boat even livened up a bit. Each excursion was now full of jokes. And sea lion calls. We also got a new guide. It was a difference of night and day. The previous guide always seemed tired (in his defense he had been on a boat for three months) and didn`t speak English so well. The new guy had all the enthusiasm of....well, a guy who had been chilling at home for the past week and was full of energy. But he also spoke English really well. And he was extremely passionate about what he was doing. Aside from the sudden introduction of potatoes at every lunch and dinner, the second half of the trip was hands down much better than the first half. I even welcomed the new group by downing several beers over card games late into the night. It was the latest I had stayed up on the boat and the only time I finished more than one drink. It was also the only night we stayed parked in one place.
If you have the means, I highly recommend doing an 8 day yacht trip around the Galapagos. It was an unforgettable experience. Just make sure you don`t get the cabin in the back of the boat.
For pics of the trip and more explanations of what I saw, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603299978206/
But first, a little history:
The Galapagos were first discovered, by accident, by Tomas de Berlanga - the first bishop of Panama. He was sailing to Peru and managed to drift off course. The islands are 1000km off the coast of Ecuador, so he did quite a bit of drifting. The islands were used by whalers for some time afterwards. As they were full of large tortises (for which the islands are named), sailors would come ashore, gather up the big guys, and take them back to the ship for weeks of fresh meat. They can survive a month or more without water and thus were the perfect stored meat. This brought a population of 200,000 quickly down to 15,000.
The islands are known a) as a habitation of animals found no where else on earth and b) as the place Charles Darwin landed in 1835 as a young man sailing on the Beagle, a British naval vessel. Charles spent 5 weeks on the island, and while there noticed that the several species of finches all had slightly different traits according to the island they inhabited. Decades later he published his book on evolution and now 80,000 foreign visitors arrive each year to see the islands to which he dedicated about 1% of his book. The islands officially became a park in 1959. And now 97% of it is off limits to these tourists.
And now my eight days on a yacht...
Sunday I arrived safely at Baltra Airport after some miscommunication with my transport. There I met the yacht guide and other passengers before boarding the Encantada for eight days and seven nights around the Galapagos Islands.
I was the only U.S. citizen, the rest hailed from:
1 couple from England (young couple on their honeymoon)
2 couples from New Zealand (young couples returning to New Zealand from some years in England)
1 female from Germany (a 33 year old airline pilot)
2 females from Switzerland (two 24 year old nurses. only one could speak english)
1 male from Australia (older guy who burnt his feet so badly the first full day he couldn`t leave the boat the other 6 days).
1 male from Belgium (much older guy who liked to get a little too close to the animals)
I was paired up with the German pilot in the back cabin. Right over what sounded like the engine of a 747. I was able to sleep through that (the German wasn`t). It was the rough rocking of the yacht that killed me. Each night the yacht would sail to a new island so we could explore first thing in the morning. The first night we sailed for four hours. Not so bad. I just sat outside and focused on the horizon. The next night was eight hours. This was pretty rough. The boat rocked from side to side and I rolled precariously close to the edge of my bunk several times. The third night was twelve hours. The boat pitched forward and then back, and at times, in what felt like a full circle. I tried sitting in the dining area and watching tv. I got nauseous. I moved outside to try and focus on the horizon - as it moved up and down about six feet. Still nauseous. I ran into the British bloke who looked equally ill. He said we was taking a half valum and going to bed. I asked for one as well. Then, after several attempts, I climbed into bed. I was out in 10 minutes.
The next morning, everyone looked a mess. Fortunately, there were to be no more long trips. But these did keep me from running up a bar tab.
Each morning we would wake (or, for some, just get up) around 6:30am and either eat breakfast immediately or jump in zodiacs to hit whatever island we had sailed to during the night. Usually we would hike around the island with our guide on designated paths while he pointed out this boobie or that marine iguana. The landscapes were all surreal, no matter which island we were on. Some looked like African savannas, some like Mars, and still others like over-grown deserts. All had some form of wildlife (almost always sea lions) and we needed no prompting to start clicking away with our cameras. A bit of knowledge was imparted to all of us on everything we saw. Why the blue footed boobie did his silly dance. Why the frigate inflated that large red balloon-like sack under his beak. Why the large flat area of land was splattered white. Everything was interesting and I felt like I was living out a National Geographic special.
Around 10am or so, we would head back to the yacht to relax as the yacht moved on to another side of the island or to a new island. Most people sat out on the front deck and sun bathed or read. I tried this the first full day and regretted it for the next three as I gingerly took showers or put new clothes over my bright red skin. Lunch was served around noon. Each meal was incredibly good and filling. We had something new each day and each time of the day. When it came time to tip the crew at the end of the trip, we suggested most go to the cook.
A few more hours of relaxing on board and then another scheduled zodiac landing. More education, more awesome sites, more looking for any shade on a volcanic island to avoid the sun worsening my burn. And then a snorkeling excursion. These were always hit or miss. At times the water would be freezing and not so clear, and no one really looked forward to it. Other times, the water was so clear and the sea life so abundant, we had to be dragged back on board. The water was never really warm, but when you are swimming with a sea turtle or surrounded by sea lions coming at you from every direction, you forget how cold you are. These were the times I couldn`t wipe the smile off my face for hours. There is nothing quite like having a sea lion come darting straight at you and turn inches before hitting you, only to slide back and under you. One of the Brits on the boat attracted these guys when ever we went out. They looked so sad when he finally had to leave the water.
And then it was back to the yacht for afternoon snacks and more relaxing on board. Dinner was served around 6 or 7pm. The captain would, graciously, wait until we were done eating before starting up the motor and heading to the next island. Several nights were spent lounging on the front deck and watching the stars as we moved through the night.
Half way through the trip, those that only signed up for a four day cruise (all but five of us) were dropped off on the main island and we picked up seven more. The group included now included three more Americans (one gal from San Fran traveling for a month and an Indian couple who had moved to Canada and then Washington), two Dutch (a couple also traveling for a month, but for some reason not into snorkeling) and a British couple celebrating their second honeymoon (they decided their first was too short). Everyone got along really well and the mood of the boat even livened up a bit. Each excursion was now full of jokes. And sea lion calls. We also got a new guide. It was a difference of night and day. The previous guide always seemed tired (in his defense he had been on a boat for three months) and didn`t speak English so well. The new guy had all the enthusiasm of....well, a guy who had been chilling at home for the past week and was full of energy. But he also spoke English really well. And he was extremely passionate about what he was doing. Aside from the sudden introduction of potatoes at every lunch and dinner, the second half of the trip was hands down much better than the first half. I even welcomed the new group by downing several beers over card games late into the night. It was the latest I had stayed up on the boat and the only time I finished more than one drink. It was also the only night we stayed parked in one place.
If you have the means, I highly recommend doing an 8 day yacht trip around the Galapagos. It was an unforgettable experience. Just make sure you don`t get the cabin in the back of the boat.
For pics of the trip and more explanations of what I saw, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603299978206/
Random Thoughts Before I Leave Ecuador
"The Tar Heels are off to a 7-0 start for the first time under Williams and the first time since the 1998-99 squad began the season 8-0." And I can`t find any of the games down here. Ugh!
People say it`s a small world. With some of the views I have seen here in Ecuador, I feel very small while the world seems huge.
Ecuador is a beautiful country. The landscape and the people are a treasure. Visit and spend some time here.
Latino time isn`t a U.S. phenomenon.
I never drink coffee in the States. I have it almost every day down here though. It doesn`t really taste any better (I`m guessing). But each day seems to beg time to just sit and have a cup. With lots of milk and sugar.
People here don`t seem to care if I am from the States. I get the same reaction as travelers from Canada, England, Germany, France. It`s humbling. But it also makes me feel good I am not getting a negative reaction.
I have resorted to wearing the same t-shirt a couple of days in a row. I tell myself it will cut down on my laundry. I make sure to do a sniff test first though.
I am paying $5 a night for a hostal room here in Loja, Ecuador. Five dollars. I almost argued that the Lonely Planet said it would be $4. I think I am hitting a new low in how cheap I am.
Those little devices on shower heads that supposedly warm up the water before releasing it in the cheaper hostals only turn the water from freezing cold to cold.
I am not looking forward to Peru`s money. I like being able to use dollars in a foreign country. It`s so easy.
People say it`s a small world. With some of the views I have seen here in Ecuador, I feel very small while the world seems huge.
Ecuador is a beautiful country. The landscape and the people are a treasure. Visit and spend some time here.
Latino time isn`t a U.S. phenomenon.
I never drink coffee in the States. I have it almost every day down here though. It doesn`t really taste any better (I`m guessing). But each day seems to beg time to just sit and have a cup. With lots of milk and sugar.
People here don`t seem to care if I am from the States. I get the same reaction as travelers from Canada, England, Germany, France. It`s humbling. But it also makes me feel good I am not getting a negative reaction.
I have resorted to wearing the same t-shirt a couple of days in a row. I tell myself it will cut down on my laundry. I make sure to do a sniff test first though.
I am paying $5 a night for a hostal room here in Loja, Ecuador. Five dollars. I almost argued that the Lonely Planet said it would be $4. I think I am hitting a new low in how cheap I am.
Those little devices on shower heads that supposedly warm up the water before releasing it in the cheaper hostals only turn the water from freezing cold to cold.
I am not looking forward to Peru`s money. I like being able to use dollars in a foreign country. It`s so easy.
By Popular Demand
I am apparently taking too long to post my stories about my eight days on the yacht in the Galapagos. Since I am so far behind, here is a link to the photos. Sorry for the large number. There were over 1000 pics to whittle down. I will post some highlight stories over the next few days. Needless to say, the trip was amazing and educational. I met some fine people aboard the yacht and had a lot of fun. I also learned drinking is not fun on a rocking boat. My bar tab was $9. One of the Brits paid $82. Nothing effects those guys.
Enjoy the pics.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603299978206/
Enjoy the pics.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603299978206/
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