Day 54, late post

So, I´m in Puerto Lopez now, this is the south coast, so distances are now judged from Guayaquil, which is about 6 or 7 hours south of here. I´m staying with the family that hosted me the last time I was here, in Las Tunas, about an hour south of here.

Going back to last Thursday, I managed to get locked out after finishing my last update, despite being promised that the door would be left open, this worried me at the time, because Cherie was stark raving drunk because it was full moon, and she might have passed out and I'd be out on the street for the night. Anyway, she did eventually hear my pounding, I nearly put a hole in the door. There are no, ifs or buts about it, Cherie is still living like its 1972. She's from California, and apparently visited Ecuador back in the 70s and moved back here 4 years ago. Notably, Sasha stayed in her room the whole time the full moon celebration was occurring, listening to punk rock. Drug use is a way of life in the place, with a HUGE pile of empty wine cartons on the upstairs veranda, and the ubiquitous smell, and I later found, presence of weed. There is a woodstock-themed garbage bin out back. Cherie seemed pretty sober the next morning, and I'd gotten used to the constant chatter of the birds in the cages. After breakfast, I went out looking for a nearby magical tree, El Lechero, but somehow lost my way and ended up going to Parque Condor, a raptor rehabilitation center above Otavalo. There are photos of some of the birds on my gallery, the King vulture and Andean condor were easily the most bizarre. The road up was really beautiful, being able to see Otavalo on one side, and the huge Lago San Pablo on the other, with the Andes covered in low cloud. There were groups of people out working in the surrounding fields, I find something familiar in the smell of freshly turned dirt. I helped a woman push a wheelbarrow full of cement. I think she found it highly amusing that I, a padfoot gringo, was pushing a heavy wheelbarrow. Leaving Parque Condor, I spotted El Lechero on the hill coming back down the road and hiked up. The tree is very old and knobbly, all by itself on the top of this hill, and, according to the locals, it imparts magical healing powers. So I got my little bit of magic and walked home through a farmer's field. It felt really good to be out and about, I'm not as fond of Otavalo now that I've been in it for a little while.

Got lost on the way back, found Mi Otavalito, a local restaurant the Colorado girls had recommended. The food was the best Ecuadorian food I've ever had, and it came at the huge cost of $6. It being Friday, this was yet another excuse for Cherie, this time with friends, to drink and be merry. Sat with Sasha and talked about life, the universe and all that good stuff.

Woke up the next morning to find I'd picked up a really good sunburn from my romp the day before, it hurt like hell, in fact, as of today, day 52, it's stopped hurting and the skin has flaked off. Feeling stupid that I'd left my hat in Quito (I'd accidently left it on the kitchen table at Ivan's) I put aloe on it and went and bought a new hat in the market, it being Saturday, the big market day in Quito. The streets were all jammed full of vendors selling just about everything under the sun. The man I bought the hat from was so happy, because I was his lucky first sale of the day. Spent the afternoon contemplating where to go next, as I had decided I was decaying in the creature comforts of Otavalo. I went and sat in on a church service in the evening, its easy to figure out what's going on, but I understood almost nothing that the priest was saying. Coming back, I found the 2 girls from Maine in the Casa de Frutas having dinner, and drank mojuitos and played cards and backgammon all evening with them. I found with I get very talkative with the very sugary mojuitos. Over all, Otavalo is a nice city, but it's a little too commercial, and conservative, for my liking. It's nothing more than a commerce city, so I shall be back later to do my shopping.

So, the day before I'd gone and checked the travel warnings of the Canadian Embassy in Quito, and apparently the whole area north of Ibarra, except for, surprisingly, the border city of Tulcan, has a heavy warning against travel in the area. So, this being first first major independent trip, and traveling alone, I opted to miss the north coast, and took a bus back to Quito and tried to find one to the coastal village of Pedernales, where I'd decided to pick up the route. No luck. Next, tried for Bahia, the next major town south, still no luck. I managed to find, with the help from other ticket vendors, a bus to Manta, at 3 pm. at 3:30, I pulled out of the station in a rather posh (very clean, spacious, soft, reclining seats) bus, that was supposed to take 7 hours to Manta. It took 10. For his credit, the man at the wheel was an excellent driver, that would overtake convoys of 3 or more tractor trailers coming down the steep winding road to Santo Domingo, with the added bonus of low visibility due to cloud coming off the mountains. It was already dark by the time we reach Santo Domingo, about a third of the way to Manta. Several times, people got off and on, and on we'd go off into the darkness, on paved and gravel roads. Around the time we arrived in Portoviejo, still an hour from Manta, I was getting really tired of sitting on the bus. Almost everyone else had gotten off at previous stops, with their potted plants, large boxes and wailing infants, and I was feeling unpleasant, tired, and hot and sticky, because I was back in coastal Ecuador, where that is the general norm. At around 1 or 2 in the morning, we arrived. Went to the recommended hotel across the street. They wanted to charge me $12. Went to the one next door, The Puerto Azul, $6. For 6, it was incredibly nice, and spent the night with the fan going full blast. What a hell of a bus trip!

Getting up the next morning, I decided, seeing as I was only a little ways from there, to go to visit my friends in Las Tunas (subnote: Las Tunas translates as The Prickly Pears). Breakfast, and a glass of cold orange juice from the man by the bus station, I went south to Montecristi, home, supposedly, of the best panama hats on earth. A little note about some of the stores I've passed. They good and eat whole pigs here, and going along on the bus, you pass these stores with these HUGE pink pig bodies, suspended by their back hooves from the ceiling, with the bodies stretching from all the fat, so you have these very elongated, whole pigs dangling from the ceiling out in front of some stores, and it just looks revolting! Montecristi, with its enormous white church, and hat and weaving makers, seems a little depressed. It looks like it used to be wealthier but has slumped lately. All of the sidewalks are wheel chair accessible. After poking around, I went back to the main road and caught a bus to here, Puerto Lopez. At the town of Jipijapa, my friend David, who I'd met in the villages from my last visit, got on the bus, coming back from school in Portoviejo (he's studying athletics, with swimming and running), but I didn't realize it was him until we got off the bus at PL. It turns out this week is a break week for students in Ecuador, after exams. The ride down was interesting, with forest giving way to dry brushland until Parque Nacional Machalilla, where it goes back to forest again. This is not the coast I remember from last year. I have arrived, for better or worse, during the coast's 2 month long rainy season. It's overcast, cool, all the streets are extremely muddy, and it rains or mists, constantly. It's more like a misty haven, rather than any kind of paradise. At PL, David and I took the bus to Las Tunas. We went to the house of Rosa first, out she came, with little Emily, who is now 1 year and 3 months. took one look at me and greeted me by the association I'd pickedd from last time "Coca-cola", then out comes from Fernando, "Loco!" A big pulava ensued, while we went around and said hello to everyone. Found Aurelio and Antonio, my host father and brother, working on the site of the cabins they've built on the beach front, the first one is finished, and they're working on the second one I came to Miriam's house, my old host mom, and she has put me in her guest room for the time being. All the time everyone is asking me about how everything is, friends, family, do I have a girlfriend, when and where am I going to school, when are the others from my first trip here going to come back and visit, etc. After dinner I go around some more and say hi to more people, at Elsa's house. Much to my surprise, they have a good picture of Wesley, on album, something I find difficult to get most of the time. I figured I will stay for the week, as the kids are here from school, and head out south after. They keep telling me tath I'm so much skinnier, taller and with shorter hair than my last visit, I don't think I've changed that much. I was exhausted by this point, having been doing the bus thing, and now having to explain the same thing, in Spanish, at least 6 times.

I woke up yesterday morning, feeling characterstically icky, because of the 100% humidity here. I went out after breakfast with my host brother Antonio, who is now 7, collecting shells and skipping stones in the surf. I played pool with the local boys in the afternoon and played cards. I spent yesterday afternoon walking along the beach and after my walk, I went for a run along the other part of the beach with David and Fernando, it felt good to blow off energy. I slept very well last night.

This morning, it being All Hallows Eve, is special here. It isn't a big commercial fest like in Canada, its a prepartion for All Souls Day, tomorrow, which is a memorial day for the dead. I walked along the beach this morning, something that I think I will get into the habit of while I'm here. There was a group of frigate birds eating what was left of a sea turtle carcass. For you Mrs. R, there is a LOT of garbage that has washed up on the beach. If the group thats supposed to come in March has any time at all, maybe even just a few hours of picking up the huge piles of garbage would go a long way to changing the atmosphere of the beach. There is a large fishing boat shipwreck, the San Eduardo II, a way down the beach. Coming back, I went up to the cemetery, where Fernando, David, and a man they call Zorro, were painting white wash on the tombs of Fernando's father and grandfather. I had a nice long conversation about the dead in the family, the problems of language barriers and the nature of traveling. Interesting story here, Fernando's father passed away in 97, heart failure, before his grandfather, who died in 2000. There are 2 other tombs related to the family, both still births, one of a brother of Fernando, another a brother of Antonio. There were other families in the cemetery tending to the tombs of their dead family as well. Went up and had cake with some of the others and played blackjack and got letters for my friends back home. Elsa wrote a good letter, in easily translatable Spanish, to Kalina, which I translated and emailed to her earlier this afternoon. David, Fernando and I went up here, to PL, to do emails. They got me to send english translations of messages to Ali and Kalina, who they'd both been fond of while they were staying here. Fernando was funny, because he ran out of things to say, he was the one sending something to Kalina, blushed, and left.

Life, good stuff...