Hello Peru!: Sept. 25-28, 2011

I wandered around Mancora following the sound and smell of surf. Brightly coloured merchant stalls lined the main street which itself was crowded predominantly with mototaxis (3-wheeled motorbike taxis) instead of cars. The tourist district was unmistakable in towns like these... manicured cobble roadways, large open restaurants, and a dozen competing bass lines thumping away, blending together, coming into focus, and fading into the background in a doppler effect caused by my perambulating pace.

 I opened my guide book to find a nice mellow hostel to make my home for the next few days. This village was built around the beach. A perfect beach with waves you can surf literally to the steps of a cafe lounge and wander up with your board for a mid-surf snack and drink. I had read about a sweet little off-the-beaten-track hostel which, after some wandering, I stumbled across... paradise.

Once settled in I met another traveler who had just arrived, Rui, a Portuguese doctor doing a practicum in infectious diseases at Lima. Both of us had the same guide books and both of us had determined the one must-do thing around Mancora: rent dirtbikes and explore the Fernandez valley and thermal hot springs. In the morning we walked to the local open market and bought breakfast supplies while scoping out potential bike rentals. The object of our hunt found and food in hand, we spent a lazy, hot, morning making and eating food to the sound of surf in the sun while sitting under palm tree shade. Once fed, we packed our day packs and made our way to the dirtbike rental. Ten minutes later we were cruising through the desert along the Panamerican Highway to Punta Sal to have a drink by the beach before heading up the scorching hot Fernandez valley.

After an hour or so of cruising and dirtbiking we found ourselves a little lost in the back country hills... although a more stunningly beautiful place to be lost in I couldn't think of at the time. We did a little back tracking and found the turn off we had missed... a difficult to discern dirt track up an off-shooting valley. A little further past some grazing goats and horses we found the hot spring mud baths. It was one small pool nestled amongst a collection of lunar sandstone hills. the water was about 35-40 degree celcius and murky with minerals bubbling up under your feet. When I submerged myself I brought my face to the bottom of the pool where I could feel the hot water bubbling out of cracks in the earth... so cool!!

The mud baths are said to be medicinal and curative of many ailments. I don't know the truth of the matter, but I felt like a million dollars after forty minutes in there. By this time the sun was setting and we still had ten kilometres of back country roads to navigate, so we slowly made our way enjoying the blue, purple, and pink pastels of the sky as the sun set over the desert. We made it back to the rental place two hours later than we told them we would be back, but the rentals were cheap and totally worth it... what a great little adventure. That night the hostel owner had a shamman from Cuzco visit to cleanse the hostel grounds. Around a campfire we performed the Peruvian equivalent of a smudge ceremony with wood from a very fragrant tree. It was very interesting and uplifting to be included in such a work.

The next day in Mancora was very chill. After another lazy communal breakfast we headed to the beach to get some surfing in on the beautiful left breaking in front of water-side cafes and restaurants. Sun, surf, sand, and massages were the recipe for this day. I had planned to go to Chiclayo the next day, but after waking up late and doing a little more research on interesting archeological sites... I decided to skip it and jump to Trujillo with Rui. We found a cheap sleeper-night bus on our morning march to the market. So, one more day of relaxing sun and surf, and then a night sleeping our way to our next destination... Trujillo.

Farewell Ecuador: Sept. 22-25, 2011

I thought descending from the Andes back to the coast would be the same as the last ascent and descent. I was wrong. After a brief belt of green the bus plunged into a lunar landscape of bone dry gullies and chasms of flash flood eroded sandstone. Many hairpin turns later we entered banana land. I had thought what I saw outside of Guayaquil was extensive banana land, but my destination of the day was Machala, banana capital of the world.

Once in Machala, my first impression was of chaos. All I knew of where I was going involved four street names and the name of a hostel. Only problem was... there were no street signs in the area the bus dropped me off at. After 15 mintunes of wandering and a brief conversation with a policeman, I found the place, having walked by it twice already. A quick change of clothes, a tourist map from the hostel, and some hunger helped tame the chaos I had initially felt upon arrival. Once fed, I returned to the hostel and met a Russian and a Spaniard (Alex and Rate - pronounced Raa-te) who were driving around the continent of South America. We hung out and wandered around the city during the night... aside from the travel anecdotes, not a very interesting night.

I chose Machala as a stop over before crossing the border into Peru because the border town of Huaquillas had a bad reputation. The only thing I initially found of interest around Machala was the Puyango Petrified Forest. So I hopped a three hour bus to the village. After more stunning Ecuadorian landscapes, the bus dropped me off at a crossroads next to a military checkpoint. A little bad Spanish and pantomime later an old local was driving me the five or so kilometres to the ecological reserve.

 

Puyango is a small village community learning how to develop the eco tourism market their petrified forest has brought to them. Puyango has one of the largest collections of petrified wood in the world. All the result of a complex of climatic and geological phenomena converging in one place. One of the climatic features I got a good dose of was the heat. The forest was close to 40 degress celcius, but what it had to share was amazing.

On the bus journey back I consulted my newly acquired guide book and discovered that just outside of Machala was the fishing town of Puerto Bolivar. From the port one could hop on a boat and cross over to the Jambeli archipelago which boasted beautiful beaches and magnificent Mangrove forests. I had always wanted to see Mangroves up close, so I decided to extend my stay in Ecuador by one more day. Jambeli existed as nothing more than a family or two of natives until fishermen from Isla Puma off of Guayaquil discovered the archipelago. Once established in industry it wasn´t long before wealthy families from Machala and Cuenca built their vacation homes there and began transforming it into a beach hotspot for many of the people in Machala. Now, erosion is slowly washing away many of the structures which is being remedied with sandbags. Although, some locals believe that recycled tires would be a more effective prophylactic to the effects of the ocean.

I checked out of the hostel early the monrning after Puyango and after one city bus and a boat I found myself in the small community of Jambeli. I arrived early so I explored the whole area inquiring about cheap lodgings until I found a funky little place run by a Dutch expatriot, Phillipa, who spoke English... yes!! I asked her about Mangrove tours and she told me to wait for high tide, so I went to explore the long and vast expanses of beach the islet had to offer. In my explorations I came across four giant sea turtles in various stages of decomposition. I later learned that their deaths are in large part due to the fishing practices of the area.

Phillipa introduced me to a Jambeli local named Rafael who turned out to be an awesome Mangrove guide. We set out in a canoe at high tide and meandered through mazes of Mangroves populated by Iguanas, crabs, and too many species of birds to recall. The hour I paid for went by far too fast for the tranquillity offered by the environs, but there was more beach to be enjoyed. What began as a random adventure turned into an extremely relaxing day away from the chaos of cities and tourism... a great recharge before my border crossing into Peru.

The next morning I awoke at day break to the songs and serenades of many exotic birds. I had paid for my stay the night before so I packed my stuff and headed down the beach to catch the 7:30 am boat back to Puerto Bolivar. A brief city bus and a breakfast later I ended up at a bus station waiting my first bus wait in Ecuador. Instead of catching the bus to Huaquillas, which ran every 20 mintunes, and walking over the border, I booked a non-stop to Piura. Thank goodness for that! Turns out the Ecuadorian border crossing and the Peruvian border crossing were several kilometres apart due to a history of land contestation. Fortunately the bus I chose waited at each crossing for passengers to go through customs before slowly honking its way through massive crowds of people transacting business of all sorts in no-man's land. Goodbye Ecuador!

Then it was smooth sailing non-stop to Mancora through the rolling landscapes of North Peruvian deserts, dry forests, and azure blue coastlines. As I got off of the bus, the heat greated me and I couldn't help but smile... a new place to explore!

Incan Explorations Part 1: Sept. 19-22, 2011

After four or five days in Montañita, I once again experienced the slight sadness at leaving like I did when leaving Quito. After some hugs and handshakes I headed for the bus stop where I ran into three of the Aussies headed south too. It was nice to have some company on at least one leg of the bus journey. En route something broke in the engine and the bus driver and his assistant had to spend 30 minutes fixing it on the side of the highway to Guayaquil.

Once back in the crazy sprawl of Guayaquil, the largest city in Ecuador, we shared a lunch at the massive bus terminal before I headed off in search of a bus to Cuenca, "Inca capital of the north". Sure enough, within minutes of beginning my search I was on a direct bus back into the Andes. After passing through stretches of sugar cane lowlands, the bus began its ascent. I nodded off only to wake up as we entered El Cajas National Park. To say the park was breath taking is kind of a double entendre as most of it is above 3,000 metres. The vistas are truly amazing... as you crest the passes leaving the coast behind, incredibly steep, cloud engulfed tropical valleys transform into bizarre combinations of tropical and coniferous trees until the grasslands of the high Andes is all that is left. The sometimes rolling but much of the time dramatic hills and peaks are dotted with miniature lakes and huts and the occassional stand of quinua trees, clinging to life higher than any other tree in the world.

Clombing into the Andes

More Andes climbing by bus

While learning about this area I came across an interesting factoid which I am going to quote entirely in here... **A research project in Peru by scientists from the University of British Columbia made some surprising findings among the highland Quecha (natives of the Andes). Not only do the high-altitude indigenas have larger lungs and hearts up to one-fifth bigger than normal - pumping two quarts more blood through their bodies than lowlanders - but their muscles also operate differently.
When you and I push our muscles to the point of anaerobic metabolism (relying on stored-up energy rather than oxygen from the outside air), they produce lactic acid that eventually builds up and causes cramps. With such little oxygen at high altitude, youd think that Quechua muscles would produce a lot of this, but instead they accumulate less lactate byproducts.
It might have something to do with their preference for carbohydrates (i.e., grains) rather than fats as body fuel, but their muscles act the same when theyre brought down to sea level, suggesting an actual genetic adaptation. Researchers hope to use this sort of information to help people survive the temporary lack of oxygen caused by strokes and heart attacks.**

Once in the Andes it doesnt seem like you truly ever come down unless going back to the coast. After about an hour of natural eye candy, we exited the parks eastern perimeter and began encountering habitations. The coniferous trees surprised me, but the size and quality of the houses surprised me even more. Up until this point bamboo shacks or cinder block hovels had dominated most of the locals housing I had seen. But as we approached Cuenca, there were some seriously beautiful buildings.

Catedral de la Inmaculada Concepción

San Sebastoan Plaza, Cuenca

San Sebastian Cathedral, Cuenca

Random cool architecture, Cuenca

Cuenca is the third largest city in Ecuador with over 400,000 people. It has a similar feel to Victoria that way... everything is walking distance with plenty of natural and architectural beauty. Its by far the cleanest Ecuadorian city I have yet seen. There is a lot of the colonial look in the city, from cobblestone streets, whitewashed  or nicely painted buildings, many plazas and squares, and plenty of churches.

Cañari Moon Temple viewed from Sun Temple

Before being colonized by the Incas and the Spanish, Cuenca was a settlement of the indigenous Cañari who maintained a culture in the area for centuries before the Inca arrived. The Cañari people were a matriarchal moon worshipping culture as is evidenced by the temple ruins a couple hours north by bus at Ingapirca, close to the pueblo of Cañar.

Sun temple aligned with sun cycles



Where artisans made holy crafts



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Doorway to Sun temple ante chamber



Around 1500 C.E. fter several heavy battles, the Cañari negotiated a truce with the Inca permitting Incan occupation and rule so long as the Cañari could retain their cultural practices and spiritual beliefs. It was at this time that Ingapirca (which literally means "Inca Wall") was established with half of the religious compound dedicated to moon worship ceremonies and celebrations and the other half to sun worship. Ironically, the Cañari were matriarchal moon worhsipers while the Inca were patriarchal sun worshipers. Although both cultures were eventually subsumed by the Spanish (who took advantage of the Incan fraternal civil war) the Cañari did influence the Inca during their brief combinations of culture. Typically Incan religious centres, and architecture in general, were based on square type motifs while the Cañari were elliptical. The sun temple at Ingapirca is the only one ever discovered to incorporate elliptical architectural styles.

 

Entrance to Pumapungo,

 

 Water Management at Pumapungo



The Incan occupation only lasted 40-70 years before civil war broke out between two Incan princes who each inherited either the north or south half of the Incan empire. The north had its capital in Cuenca, evidenced by the royal ruins left in the city at Pumapungo. The south had its capital in Cuzco, but more on that place when I get there. Once the Spanish and their attendant religion, Catholicism, took over, many of the stones from Incan structures, which were of superior masonry, were used as foundation stones for the many churches built around the area. 

Looking up at Pumapungo



Suffice to say, my experience in Cuenca was a relaxing exploration into some of Ecuador´s ancient cultures and I enjoyed it. But the calmness and culture of the altitudinous Andes wore thin on me like the altitude and the ocean beckoned to me again and I had to answer it... even if only to be near it for a layover. So I got up early the day after exploring Ingapira and walked across the city to the bus depot where I promptly hopped on to a bus headed for Machala. While staying there I planned to explore the Puyango petrified forest before crossing the hectic border near Huaquiallas into Peru.

 

Beach Daze: Sept. 14-19, 2011

Five days in Montañita, including a weekend, were definitely more than enough for me. The day I arrived I met a New Yorker named Franklin working across the street from the hostel I checked into... thank goodness for that. Where ever I go it never ceases to amaze me how some people are just natural nexus points... connected in all the right ways with all the right people. Thanks to Franklin I soon moved to the hostel he was living at just out of town for $5 a night. However, before moving in with Franklin and his crew, I fell victim to an apparently common trap in a tourist pueblo like Montañita. Whcn I checked in to the Papaya I paid up front for my room that night, as I did the next day. When I went to check out and tried to recover a jacket I had left in the room, they tried to charge me again. My Spanish not being up to par for such an incident, I hunted down Franklin to figure this out. Turns out some local saw me waiting at reception and quickly assumed the role of host in order to pocket the cash himself. After some discussion the matter was cleared up and I was spared the extra charge, but my jacket was history... I liked that jacket. Anyhow, good riddance to the tourist core of that town, Franklin had warned me that I´d appreciate living a bit out of town once the weekend hit, and he wasn´t kidding. Even nearly a kilometre away from the center the thump of club bass could be heard all Saturday night until 8 am in the morning.

Before Montañita became what it is today, it was a peaceful little fishing village on a beautiful beach coast in Ecuador. But sure enough, some surfer dudes discovered it and their compadres flocked to one of the longest, if not the longest, right breaks in the country. With surfers comes surfer culture which sometimes includes a bit of the party animal. When I checked out of tourist central, aka Hostal Papaya, and headed for Franklin´s place, Hostal Sol Playa Cafe, some of the surfer culture met me there. Five Aussie guys had checked in a couple days before me and set the tone at the hostel of "la fiesta mejor". The morning I moved in we had a nice fire in the back as one of the first blue-sky days during my stay unfurled above us and the beach beckoned just a hop, skip, and a jump from where we were sitting.

Much of my time in Montañita was spent walking to and from town exploring all the different ways to get around. I enjoyed the carnivale style atmosphere of the pueblo as locals from Guayaquil flooded in for the weekend. An electronic music festival of sorts dominated the town and surrounding beaches for two days. All of this was puctuated by long beach strolls, a couple of surf sessions, and lots of reading. The night I spent in Latacunga I was fortunate enough to have been in a hostel with one of very few foreign language book exchanges. I picked up a tome of a novel titled "Galileo´s Dream". It saved me quite a bit of what might have turned into lonely torment in paradise and also helped me appreciate the many hammocks that populated the Montañitan landscape. Now I´ve donated that book to Hostal Sol Playa Cafe and their newly formed book exchange.

An aspect of Ecuador that finally hit me while in Montañita is how much animals are simply a part of life around here. Whether in a city, the countryside, or a pueblo, they´re everywhere. Llamas, cows, mules, horses, and chickens wander the streets with no apparent human supervision. While sitting in a any number of cafes or restaurants it wasn´t uncommon for a dog to wander in, check out the patrons, or even curl up at your feet. One evening while strolling down an empty stretch of beach, four dogs came out of nowhere and cruised with me for awhile before sauntering off to where ever they had to go.

Then there´s the wildlife...far more abundant and obvious along the coast. There are many varieties of birds, most of them quite vocal, iguanas around some of the rivers, and along the beach, when no people were around, whole communities of crabs would scurry around by the dozens. They would dance with each other, fight, scurry some more, and then pop back down their toonie sized holes. Quite entertaining to watch.

So after a few nights of celebration, a few days of true relaxation, a little delerium, and plenty of sun and heat, it was time to plan the next leg of the journey. My buddy Ryan finally got back to me... turns out he had been completely unplugged a little ways out of Montañita, too bad we missed each other. On the bright side, Alex (from Quito) gave me a few ideas of where to go next. He suggested three places: Baños, Cuenca, and Mancora. After a brief visit to the internet cafe I decided that as beautiful as Baños is, it was just too far back north for my liking. Cuenca, on the other hand is situated slightly south of Guayaquil, which puts me right on track for the Peruvian border and Mancora... so next stop... back to the Andes!

From the Ecuadorian Sky to the Sea: Sept. 9-13, 2011

La Compañia, Quito

Mitad del Mundo

Leaving Quito four days ago felt kind of like leaving a second home. When I landed there I knew nobody and next to nothing about the place. But after four days in an awesome hostel with an awesome host and even more awesome random friends I made, the city, regardless of its somewhat sketchiness, felt comfortable. Every day there was another tourist adventure with one of my random hostel friends. Checking out the old town, trekking out to Midad del Mundo, hiking volcano Pululahua, hiking a portion of Pinchincha after riding the TeleferiQo, or just wandering around La Mariscal in search of cheap Ecuadorian cuisine.

La Mariscal on a Friday night

Pinchincha atop the TeleferiQo

Pululahua Crater Geobotanical Reserve

On the morning of the 11th I got up at 7 am after five hours of sleep and ventured out to get some travel cash. Getting cash is always a bit stressful... carrying anything more than $50 on me always feels like I´m wearing a target on my back... more on hiding cash later.

I hadn´t been able to find a guide book on Ecuador at any of the book stores I checked out during my stay and returned the hostel copy I had been using after a quick perusal and some brief notes. I recalled some pointers other travelers had given me, finished packing my bags, and hit the road.

The night before I had decided to trek into the Andes before hitting the coast. I was on a mission to hike the volcanic crater lake of Quilotoa. The first leg of my journey took me to the southern bus terminal of Quito, this meant traversing the not-so-friendly poor quarter... or so people said. I found the locals very polite and helpful... perhaps showing them some respect by attempting their language and being polite had something to do with it.

Once at the bus depot getting a ticket to Latacunga was no problem. Only thing was, my destination´s name is about all I knew about. After the two hour or so bus ride through some very picturesque Andean countryside, I found myself at the "terminal terrestre" in Latacunga with no idea of where to go except the vague recollection of a conversation I had had with a German couple a few nights before. They had told me to cross the Rio Cutuchi using the Avenue Cinco de Junio bridge to get to the main city square where hostels were located. So I hopped into a taxi and gave vague directions in very bad Spanish. The cabbie drove me over the bridge, which was half a block from the bus station, then asked me where to go specifically... I responded with "Un hostal barato". So he turned around and drove the other way dropping me off a quarter block from the bus depot at a total sespool of a hostel.

Cotopaxi from the rooftop

A little bit of Latacunga

Now knowing where the river and Avenue Cinco de Junio were, I elected to explore some options. I trekked till I found an internet cafe and googled hostels in Latacunga (echoes of my arrival in Quito). The hostel I ended up at was a chill little place with a brilliant rooftop view of the local volcano Cotopaxi. It was a very mellow place, great after the party atmosphere of La Mariscal in Quito. I did a little internet research on my next day´s journey to Quilotoa and went to the roof to contemplate Cotopaxi in the light of a nearly full moon. It was at this point that I realized the difference in the sky from my home in B.C. The sun and moon always traveled directly above instead of to the south... a reminder that I am at the equator and not the 49th north parallel of latitude. That and the stars... not a single recognizable constellation... glad I brought a compass and a star book.

A chunk of collapsed road

The Ecuadorian owners of the hostel told me that the earliest bus to Zumbahua, a waypoint to Quilotoa, was at 7:30 am, so I got up at 6:30 to make sure I made it. A quick trek across Latacunga and some bad Spanish got me on the right path. Here is where my first true experience of South American road work and bus driving begins. Maybe it´s the torrential downpours that happen in a flash, maybe it´s shoddy engineering, or maybe it´s just overuse of infrastructure and underuse of public funds (read corruption here), but everything I expected on the fabled Camino del Muerte of Bolivia was presented to me here. Chunks of hill or cliffside collapsed into rubble obscurring half or more of the road, blind hairpin turns with nothing more than the bus´s horn to guarantee safety, and astonishing vistas of Andean agriculture.

Patchwork of hillside fields

The Ecuadorians farm on every square metre of arable land, even if it´s on a 60 degree slope. As the bus swerved past on-coming traffic on single lane portions of the "highway", it dawned on me once again that I was at the equator and not the 49th north parallel because farming was happening at 2000+ metres in September. As far as I know, the Golden Hinde (tallest peak on Vancouver Island) was unclimbable this year at 2,100 metres due to snow.

Entrance to the Quilotoa crater trail

A couple hours of bouncing out of my seat brought me to Zumbahau where, after disembarking the bus, I was in a pickup truck within 45 seconds heading towards the pueblo of Quilotoa. One thing about Ecuadorian transit... you rarely wait more than a few mintues for connecting transport. Upon arrival at the pueblo of Quilotoa I secured some hostel accomodations and

Laguna Quilotoa

headed for the crater. One of the cool things 

about traveling is meeting people you have met elsewhere on the latest leg of your journey. So I´m exploring entry points for a route down into the Quilotoa crater when I run into this Brazilian guy I met the previous night in the hostel in Latacunga. We decended into the crater and explored around a bit before deciding to commence the slog back up. Now, on Vancouver Island, or even many of the mountains surrounding the lower mainland, this would be a simple feat, even with 20 kgs on your back. But above 3,500 metres just getting yourself up a steep crater wall is a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of meditative exercise. It was one of the first times in my life I had to consciously focus on fully expanding my lungs otherwise dizziness, headache, and muscle fatigue would quickly set in.

Approaching the bottom

Hiking back up with Llanas

At the top of the crater Cesar and I shared a meal before he headed off, I headed for the hostel. Once the sun went down, which is about 6:30 pm year round, the Andean winds picked up forcing myself and the Swiss couple I met at the hostel to huddle around a wood stove with the Ecuadorian family who ran the place. The Andean night is as beautiful as it is unforgiving, but fortunately the blankets were plentiful as the winds whistled me to sleep. At 3,850 metres, I think it´s the highest place I´ve ever slept outside of an airplane.

I awoke at daybreak eager to get my journey to the coast underway. As the sun crested the horizon I started walking out of town to meet the pickup truck the hostel owner said would get me to Zumbahua for the morning bus back to Latacunga. Nothing quite compares to riding in the back of a pickup truck, which doubled as the morning school bus, through the winding roads of the Andes with breathtaking vistas at neck breaking speeds.

Being 6´2" makes riding buses an uncomfortable ordeal, but it does afford one a great view of the countryside. As we wound our way along the "highway", Cotopaxi greated me through the clear morning air and the farmer´s fields speckled the hillsides in a thatchwork pattern of greens and browns. In Latacunga I transferred to the next bus which was headed for the town of Ambato where I transferred to yet another bus headed for Guayaquil. With about 5 hours of travel behind me and 9 more to go I was in rough shape... my back had siezed up on me as I got off the bus in Ambato, but I managed to hobble onto the next bus with all my stuff.

Back pain aside, the views decending from the high arid Andes into the lush landscapes of the coast were simply jaw-dropping. Immense valleys were bisected by bands of clouds, blue above, green below. For awhile it was like decending in an airplane as mists enveloped us and vehicles shot past like multicoloured phantoms rushing to the sunny solace of the peaks above, their passing marked by the doppler effect of their horns.

Once below the clouds we approached Guayaquil through about 100 kms of flatlands dominated by endless banana plantations and tracts of land burned out for agriculture. The city`s immenant presence became palpable as agricultural land turned to third world sprawl, then denser suburbs, and finally the racous roar of rush hour urbanity. The Guayaquil bus depot has to be one of the most massive structures of its sort I have ever seen. Three levels containing over 150 bus berths. As it turned out, I missed the last bus to Montañita by 15 minutes... fortunately I had a backup plan. Twenty minutes later I was on a bus to Puerto Lopez, just over 10 hours behind me and just under 4 more to go. Careening through the lowlands as the sun set and the smoke from numerous debris fires wafted through the bus, the landscape, being strange and unknown to me, took on an eerie Apocalypse Now flavour. I struggled to find a position in which pain didn´t shoot up my back and down my legs.

After nearly four hours a glow appeared on the dark hazy horizon and briney ocean air teased my nostrils... Puerto Lopez at last! Within about 15 seconds of getting off the bus I was in the back of a motorbike cab heading for the beach. I took the first room at the first hostel we got to without even haggling the price, I just wanted a shower and a stretch.

Just before 10 pm I exchanged my sweat laden Andean layers for shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops, found a late night food stand on the beach and soaked in the thick equatorial night time heat. Shortly thereafter as I was falling asleep in my overpriced room, it struck me as odd that they had installed mosquito screens in the windows when there were gaping holes in the mortar work of the brick walls. I had forgotten that the only reason I hadn`t experienced equatorial bugs yet was because I had been in the Andes to high, windy, and cold for bugs. My feet turned into midnight snacks for a variety of blood suckers.

Up at daybreak again, I packed my stuff and walked into the humid heat of the day. After about 15 minutes of randomly walking around Puerto Lopez, I found the bus depot where I met a swiss guy named Nedo. He was headed for Montañita too, so we hung out and spoke English. Turns out he is a teacher too, only in Denmark. An hour or so later we were exploring the party town of Montañita... that was yesterday. More on Montañita once I move on to the next place... time to hit the beach!