Day 159 - It's close to the end

I'm back in Cuenca again, it was a good place for contemplation and revelation, and seems to still be that way. I notice too how different I feel being here (which could be the reason I'm feeling low lately, back to the familiar), a little bit calmer, more relaxed, a little more Zen, and a little safer in my own skin than last time, on Friday I'm going to head off into the wild reaches of the Andes and muck around out there until I come back to Quito, currently thought to be the 21st. Now, for this week's news:

Last Tuesday: So, after having finished up last week's update, there I am walking down the street, and lo, it's Maria! (if you're not entirely with the story, she's one of the German girls I met in Quito before I left in October) She's down here with her sister soaking sunshine, I say hi, catch up a little. It's really hot out, so they go back to their air-conditioned hostel, and I buy an ice cream and get a truck back to Las Tunas. It's good to see a familiar face again. I spend the afternoon repairing Rosa's guitar, which had a missing D string. Couldn't get it in tune though, as the string kept stretching. I went down to the beach at sunset, one last long walk, it occurred to me how long it might be until I once again walk along these shores again. Closure always seems to be hard, and good-byes, which I gave out in great abundance the next morning, I actually felt really sad, a rare thing for me on this trip. I hope it won't be too long before I come back to little Las Tunas. Edison senior drove me to Lopez where I got a bus to Manta. That chapter in this trip is now at a close, and yes, it is hard.

Manta. Still as ugly and uninspiring as it was the first time I came here. I discovered, after asking around, I couldn't get a direct bus to Bahîa de Caraquez, my chosen destination, and had to go to Portoviejo. The terminal there was mildly interesting, a man selling bird callers and fake noses with those paper birthday horns as a moustache, and a guy who begged water off me in exchange for pointing me to the bus to Bahia.

I loved Bahia. It is VERY mellow in vibe, and almost unsettlingly peaceful, this is the town where the richest wigs in Ecuador have their summer homes, maybe that has something to do with it. The Bahia Hotel, where I stayed, had an odd, ship-like feel (probably the old floorboards and the ubiquitous white and blue paint), and rather bad water supply problems, but otherwise nice. I wander around until the sun goes down, soaking the vibe, and the tall, chalk-white high-rises along the waterfront. It's just a really mellow place. I have Mexican for dinner, and falling asleep to the sound of waves in the docks across the street.

Thursday. I had cebollche, this really popular, soup, made of chicken, for breakfast. Wasn't half bad either. Overlooking Bahia is this big, cross-shaped tower, I guess because they didn't want another statue of the Virgin Mary, which I hiked up to. The whole area looks beautiful, as the river Chone, runs down to the ocean.
I take the ferry boat across the river to San Vicente. There was a little boy on the dock there that kept smiling creepily at me. The denizens of San Vicente would further unsettle me, with a guy coming up to me while I'm having lunch and trying to read my journal, not knowing any English at all. I got a bus to Pedernales, further up the coast. I ended up in the very front seat next to the driver for this ride, which would prove to be eventful, watching us drive along at warp speed, dodging potholes and the other vehicles on the road. I asked him how often they repair the road and fill in the holes. He didn't seem to understand the question. I took that as a sign. I notice the bus conductor, sitting beside me, is shaking a carton of what looks like milk. I ask about it and he gives me some. It's actually yogurt, a very sweet vanilla. So there I am, sitting up front eating yogurt with the bus driver and the conductor (not so sure the driver should've been while driving). The throw their plastic cups out the window, I refrain.

We arrive in Pedernales, a town of bars and hardware stores. I don't think I saw any other foreigners while I was there. I take a walk along the beach, watching the people playing around in the surf, gets me started about thinking about how everyone is different, how even the attitudes of the people living here at so much different from my own, even from people living in other towns along the coast. Everyone is the same, but also alienably different from each other. I stop and watch a bunch of men gambling at cards. There was one guy that always seemed so lucky. I have dinner at what might be the best pizzeria in the country, I watched him make the whole thing from scratch (okay he'd made the dough beforehand. There's a soccer game on TV, which has drawn a little group of men at the door. Intent as I was on the game, I knock my beer all over the counter. Dumb gringo!

Friday. I catch the bus bright and early (8 am) to Quito, and arrive in the late afternoon. I tried to get a cab, but the only taxista there was uncooperative, wouldn't listen to me bargain the fare, and seemed to not be able to care less if someone wanted to give him work. So I walked to the Plaza San Blas, found a hostel, the Belmont, with a massive portrait of a topless woman on the 2nd floor, other than that it was a pretty dull place. After setting up, I take the Trole to the Mariscal to visit Luis. Luis hasn't changed much. Still short and excitable. A new cafe has gone in across the street, Luis is very fond of the female servers who work there. The Spanish school I went to has relocated 3 blocks. That evening, after Luis' closes up, we go to the cafe across the street for a beer for him and me, in exchange Luis gives me a ride back to the Old Town. It's so odd being back in Quito, it's interesting seeing how things have changed in the time since I've been gone. First night in a while without mosquitoes.

Saturday. I get up late, and on the recommendation of the hostel owner, have lunch at a cafe on the Plaza Grande. Kinda expensive, but it was GOOD ceviche. I people-watch, write a little, and shoo away shoeshine boys for the afternoon. There was a party that night, so I cleaned up and went back to Luis' office, of course the unofficial meeting spot of most parties. We got a call after I got there, we were celebrating Emma and Carly (the 2 brits) going to Colombia on Monday, to bring beer to someone's apartment, where everyone was supposed to converge on. Luis had no cash, and I needed to visit the bank anyway, so I went out and got the money, come back, and Luis has discovered he has lots of money in his desk. We're about to leave, when, lo, a birthday party comes in. Nearly 2 dozen Brits invade the office, celebrating one of the guys' (it was mostly girls) 19th birthday. They also brought an amazing quantity of Zhumir and other hard booze. I'm a little shocked, not really excepting this, and Luis' said it showed on my face. This carries on for a few hours, until the Brits are sufficiently boozed up to go out dancing. We then left with our beer supply for the other party, also with a girl from the cafe across the street, whom Luis cajoled into coming. It was really good to see the old gang again, albeit in an inebriated state. A few of us go out, including Sara, from Guelph, a new addition to the group (well, since I've been gone) dancing. I'm dog tired, having already taken on 2 parties that evening, Sara looks much the same. Luis takes me home, but I manage to forget my bag in his van. Took me until Monday to get it back, in the mean time I would be sin umbrella. I sleep well that night.

Sunday, I get up late, the hot water doesn't work, so my shower was very quick that morning. I set off exploring the Old Town, it must've have been a cycling day (there is a well-established Critical Mass group in Quito), there are bikes everywhere and they've cordoned off some of the streets. There are 3 women doing a musical play on the Plaza Grande that day, and a very amusing mime, who imitates anyone that gets close to him. More on him later. The Plaza Grande is an awesome place to watch Quito in action, all the people, always something going on, it's almost like the whole city revolves around that place. At the Centro Cultural Metropolitano, there's an exhibition of the this year's top press photos, which immediately fires me up with photographic zest, and I spend the afternoon going around. Coming out again, the mime had drawn a considerable crowd, he was playing baseball. I was impressed and dropped some money in his hat when he came around at the end. He asked me where I was from. When I told him, he got the crowd to applaud for Canada, a "very cool place." I went up to the Plaza San Fransico, sit on a bench and end up talking with a woman next me. She was from Cuenca; we talk for a little while. She leaves, I go down to Olmedo, to Emma and Carly's apartment, I hadn't seen Emma the night before (she went to a different party), so I wanted to wish her good luck. I find Emma, on the floor, badly hung over, and trying to pack her bag, Carly less so. 3 Canadians also now occupy the apartment, all from Ontario. We talk and eat chocolate. They go out for one last night on Quito, I'm feeling good, so I go to the Mariscal and treat myself with pizza. Got a little lost on my way back, the Trole goes more in a circle, rather than a line. The hostel owner didn't quite recognize me, said it was the long hair.

Monday morning I decided that today was the day... that I was going to get a tattoo. I went down and had lunch with Luis, who notably, does not like pizza or shawarmas. I then printed the image I wanted, and set off for the tattoo parlour, which I'd checked out back in October, and trusted their professionalism. Sat around while they copied the image down, I gave it approval, and we began. We started off a little rocky, as I sat down, the guy shows me the needles, so I know they are clean and new, but it took me a while to understand that's what he was trying to tell me. That cleared up, he begin. I have it done on my right shoulder. He cleans the area, then imprints the image down, then loads the tattoo needler, which looks like a medieval torture weapon, and gets started. It doesn't hurt much, basically exactly what it is, having a needle stuck in you. He traces the outline first, then uses a wide needle to fill in the spaces. And... we're done. He cleans it up, puts vaseline on it, and wraps it in saran wrap. The excess ink is leaking off, I'm told to go home in a couple of hours and clean it. No scatching, swimming or sunlight. I head back to the office to show it to Luis. It leaks badly, have I have to clean my arm a few times, as well it's soaked into my shirt, I got it out later, not sure if the marks will entirely go though. Went back to the hostel, cleaned it up and went out and had shrimp for dinner. That night was a little uncomfortable, as it was very tender, and I couldn't apply pressure to it without it aching. On my right shoulder, is now imprinted the image of the Amnesty International candle, and I'm very happy with it.

Tuesday, my bus day. Packed up, and moved out, destination Cuenca. I learned from the hostel man that there was only 1 direct bus to Cuenca, and it didn't leave until 6 pm. I got a little lost getting to the bus terminal, surprising, as I haven't had problems before. I wound up at the city bus point, where all the city buses come to along their route, and I'd ended up on the wrong side of the river from the Cumanda terminal. I ended up hiking down into the ravine, where the city sewage outlet was. I had to climb up onto a concrete bridge across the river. On the other side, there was a steel gate, and on approaching it, a German shepherd came out of the shadows growling. The gate was padlocked though, thankfully. I could hear human voices further back in the darkness, and set off up the hill, in case I might get in trouble being down there, I mean, what business does a gringo have above a sewage outlet? Wonder where that tunnel goes to though. At the top of the hill, I conveniently found a gate-door in the fence, stepped through, and walked to the terminal. I caught a bus to Ambato first, then connected there to Riobamba, then found a bus to Cuenca. Waiting for the bus there, I watched a man stuff chickens into plastic crates that didn't look big enough to house chickens, but stuff them in he did, that can't be good for the chickens. The bus ride to Cuenca was long, 6 hours, and was rather agitating, as the driver kept stopping, bringing complaints from the other passengers. As well, I found I needed to visit the bathroom quite badly. I watched, I can't say horror, as it was more amusing. The woman across the aisle, change the diaper of her little girl, then leave the rolled up diaper on the seat when she left. Then a man got on, and proceeded to sit on said shitty diaper, then discover he was sitting on the shitty diaper. We got into Cuenca, I got a cab to a hotel, and quickly fell asleep.

This morning, I left the hotel, it was overpriced for what it gave. I found a new one, and had lunch at my favourite of Cuencan culinary institutions, the Cafe Austria. Wandered a little this afternoon, and have finally finished this long update.