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| Que lindo (pretty) Guayaquil! |
Crying babies wrapped in Winnie
the Pooh blankets. Mothers toting boxes, bags, sacks, and crates on heads.
Eager eyes scanning signs, searching for loved ones, and rain, so much rain
pouring down, flooding streets and soaking clothes. Jostling, yelling, police
officers shouting who knows what at who knows who. Buses honking, brakes
squeaking, throng of travelers shuffling and milling about like a stampede
bound for the plains, the Quitumbe bus station looked more like the market days
I had seen in India than what I’d expected of Quito’s major bus terminal. But
it was a packed holiday weekend and we were saddling up for an eight-hour
journey a la costa (to the coast) to
celebrate the independence of Guayaquil, Ecuador’s largest metropolis.
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| Sprawling expanse of the city of Guayaquil |
Somewhat
horrified at the prospect of an overnight bus ride sitting with a stranger (ah,
the joys of traveling in odd numbers), I strapped my cash, camera, and phone to
my person, flipped up my hood, and slunk low in the seat, trying my best to
make myself smaller against the window as the bus creaked, grumbled, and made
its way down the highway, thriller The
Call playing in the background as I drifted off. (Really? Halle Berry
tracking down a mentally-deranged kidnapper guilty of snatching a teenager from
the mall? Best choice for a night bus viewing!) And then I felt it. I almost
thought I had imagined it. But nope, there it was again, a slow, gentle, warm
pressure…on my thigh. And then…on my shoulder? Eyes snapped open, I glanced slowly to my left at the culprit, a deeply snoozing man next to me, his limp arm
against my leg and head now on my shoulder. Ah. Yes. Of course. With a shrug, I
dislodged myself and drifted off again.
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| El Cerro Santa Ana |
We arrived in the city at 7 in the morning. The one thing I
can certainly say for Guayaquil is that the people are as warm as the weather.
Little but sunshine and smiles most of the day, in stark contrast to the frigid
mountain air and temperament in Quito. That includes the whistles and catcalls,
but hey, that’s par for the course. We spent the day exploring markets,
watchtowers, rivers, and El Cerro Santa Ana in the hillside neighborhood of Las Peñas, which seemed to primarily consist of a string of winding bars and restaurants dotted amidst a sea
of colorful roofs, all throbbing the same cumbia
beats and serving up the same platos
típicos (traditional dishes)—menestras,
fritadas, pollo a la plancha.
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| El Faro (The Lighthouse) |
We arrived at the faro (lighthouse) and capilla
(chapel) at the top, 486 stairs later, panting, sweating, melting in the
midday heat. After a particularly disturbing observation of duck mating, we
moved on to visit the famed Parque Seminaro (o Parque de las Iguanas), a small
square plaza in front of a church and teeming with scaly pieces of history the
size of small dogs. Most just lazed about, sunbathing, munching scraps of this
and that on the cobblestone, flicking their pink tongues against trails of ice
cream, cooling on the pews inside the church (yes, I know, but yes). Highlight of the day had to be watching as a group of iguanas-
surprisingly agile- scuttled across the park and through a crowd of
unsuspecting koi pond observers who immediately scattered horrified as the
lizard cousins skittered over their feet.
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| Parents, please restrain your children lest they lose limbs! |
Low point of the day included a trip to
Resaca restaurant (which gets negative stars on Trip Advisor!) where I
was unceremoniously denied a hamburger after a mistake in my order (because
everyone knows there is a five hamburger sale quota for the day and they had
surpassed it—I told you, I can’t make
this stuff up) followed by which we were notified that because our waitress had
not informed us that management had raised the price on sangria (and therefore
all menus were incorrect), she would have to pay the difference. Sans beefy
satiety and a few extra dollars, we left incensed determined to opine about our
experience on every medium available, including filing an official complaint
with the local municipality for employee abuse. Oh, right, and then there was
that time where an outdoor comedian called me a Haitian refugee and we ran into
a group of very tall, very blonde Argentineans dressed as American cowgirls
(and one model-esque cowboy!) dancing to sell Miller Lite beer. Que lindo, Guayaquil! Simultaneously, city
of the best ceviche, most entertaining museums (with incredibly vivid
depictions of death—death by alligator! death by fire! death by drowning!), and
a delectable visit (or three) to La Gran
Colombia Colombian bakery.
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| BEST ceviche. BEST. |
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| La Gran Colombia Bakery run by a Colombian family |
Thoroughly satisfied and sad to head
back for the mountains, we headed to the bus station in good spirits. The
return trip went a little something like this: Arrive at the station with
minutes to spare. Race to the gate; be denied entry and ordered to purchase additional
25cent boarding chit downstairs (you know, because you couldn’t have just
bought that with the ticket :P). Race down to acquire chit. Race back to board
bus. Bus is late. Very late. Board
bus. Wait 30 minutes for 5 late passengers. Grumble with other passengers. Bus
takes off. Bus continues to pick up roadside stragglers. Watch Olympus Has Fallen. Cookie salesman
boards moving bus and exits. Candy salesman boards moving bus and exits.
Empanada salesman boards bus...remains on bus for 25 minutes selling many empanadas…bus departs
highway…empanada man is dropped off in his small town. (Hmmm??) Watch bizarre
fighting movie where people are killed with baseballs and hammers. Make
unanticipated stop for dinner…for an hour. Get stuck in post-holiday traffic.
Watch Latin American 80’s music videos. AC is cut off. Melt from the heat
because the bus has run out of gas and cannot run AC. Fill up tank with gas.
Finally return to Quito. Sleep like there’s no tomorrow.
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| Happy (early) Birthday, Walter! (No I didn't pay these people! Yes, I made some friends!) |
Next up: Quirks and joys of life in Ciudad Mitad del Mundo.
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