Last week I was fortunate enough to travel to a few spots along the coast of Ecuador. It all came together pretty simply, when one day in Baños my fellow volunteer Jenna said Hey, wanna come to the coast with me? And I said Sure. She did all the planning, and after saying goodbye to Karl and the rest of the Biblioteca gang we found ourselves sitting at the bus terminal, waiting for the 11:30 bus to Guayaquil that naturally showed up at 12:30.
7 hours later we are sitting in the food court of the bus terminal in Guayaquil. I’m eating McDonald’s french fries and Jenna is still drugged from the sleeping pill she took. It was a quality hour and a half spent in pretty much total silence while we waited for the bus to Montañita, our first destination.
We arrive to Montañita, a town that was designed for tourists to surf, eat ceviche, and do any type of drug imaginable with little legal ramification. The town is pretty quite until about 4 or 5 pm, then everything starts to open up. Countless cocktail stands, people approaching you from every direction. Do you want to buy these bracelets I spent all day making? Do you want to buy these empanadas I spent all day making? Do you want me to braid your hair? How about a weed brownie?
Backing up to arriving. Jenna, what’s the address of our hostel? Let’s see, it says here ‘beachfront.’ Ah, claro.
After asking around we finally make it, eat some ceviche and catch up with two other girls who left the Bib a week before we did and ended up in this classy town. We get a snack, two of us got to get piercings, and then we hit the beach.
Jenna and I run into the ocean and as I’m trying to recap Beyonce’s Drunk in Love video for her, a long-haired man approaches us on a surfboard. “It’s the perfect day for surfing, come have a lesson!” So we did.
After much needed naps and dinner, we were ready to hit the streets (both of them, I’m pretty sure there are only two worth walking on in the whole town). We treated ourselves to a special cocktail called “the Montañita” which is aqua-colored and comes with an orange slice. After one sip there was plenty of space to add more alcohol, which is what the bartender immediately did without even being asked. That my friend is service.
As we finished up our drinks we spent some time wandering the two streets and suddenly found ourselves surrounded by Colombians who insisted we drink their alcohol, pose for photos and come dancing. So we did.
They led us to an intense structure about 4 stories high called ALCATRAZ. Surprisingly it was empty, and after seeing the decor I just really can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to dance the night away in a prison-themed club. I’m not sure what anyone reading knows about Colombians, but they take their dancing pretty seriously. At least all of the ones who brought us to Alcatraz did. Jenna and I were a little fatigued from the previous night spent on a bus and from all the activity of the day, and we were pretty content to just sit and watch, contributing the occasional fist pump and encouraging smile. Unfortunately this goes against all Latin American social norms.
“You must get up and dance. In my country, the only reason women sit instead of dance is when they are sad.”
We survived the night, but barely. The next day we wandered around, sat on the beach, found our Colombian friends, ate great seafood and headed to our next destination: Puerto Lopez.
Puerto Lopez is a MUCH calmer town to the North. Our hostel was great, ran by a couple of guys from Argentina. They reminded me of everything good in life, like mate and dulce de leche ice cream. In Puerto Lopez you can go to a special place called Isla de la Plata, or “The Poor Man’s Galapagos.” For not a lot of money you can travel to this little island and see all of the animals that exist on the Galapagos. Well, some. A few. The point is, we saw some boobies.
Some things about Isla de La Plata:
- It might called La Plata because Spanish settlers thought there was pirate’s treasure buried there, but it’s probably called La Plata because there is so much bird sh*t everywhere that when the sun hits it right, it has a very silvery glimmer to it.
- The boat ride out to the island is rough. An elderly French man vomited both ways.
- Watermelon is okay for sea turtles to eat but NOT pineapple. This is because of the acid.
- Male boobies whistle at female boobies, much like male humans.
- The water is very salty and so when you snorkel you don’t even need a life vest. You just float right along.
- Jellyfish are annoying.
- The best seat on the boat is in the back, because it’s the least bumpy. But you will get wet.
The following day we went some beaches called Los Frailes. They were spectacular, very untouched and the sun even came out for a bit.
Next up on the trip was Canoa. There’s even less going on in this town than in Puerto Lopez, and it’s the kind of place that grows on you so profoundly. Initially, neither Jenna nor I were particularly struck but by the last night we did not want to leave. We had to take a lot of buses to get there. The good thing about being Gringa is people assume you don’t know what’s going on (you probably don’t) and they get you to exactly where you need to be. So despite the 3 changes we made it to Canoa with all of our belongings.
It was a Tuesday night when we arrived, so everything was dead. We wandered into a quite little bar where we met Francisco, a friendly Chilean who promised to take us to see some cool caves the next day. This adventure was maybe a little more serious than we anticipated. It involved some swimming, but not just simply swimming from one place to another. Swimming as in avoiding giant rocks and fighting against the waves that push you into these giant, most times unseen rocks. The waves were even more of an issue on the way back, as the tide was coming in. I didn’t really see much cause for concern as I just kind of floated along until I noticed some local teenagers who were standing on the shore, yelling at us to get out of the water and onto dry land. As if they thought I was just casually swimming instead of trying to do just that.
A note about this part: Our backpacks with iPhones and other valuables were sitting on top of a rock where these boys were. They could have easily stolen them and been rich but instead they were helping us. And we all lived happily ever after.
A note about our guide, Francisco: The only two states he has ever visited in the US are Florida and Washington, the two states where Jenna and I are from. He also juggles.
Other things we did: more surfing, ate amazing seafood, lay in hammocks, fell out of hammocks, found lots of dogs, avoided local teenagers, played jenga, met lots of Argentines, drank mate on the beach, and bought shawarma from a man who offered a special deal “buy three shawarma, get two black guys!” We only bought two.
All in all, beach week was a success. Currently in Bogota, getting ready for a Texas road trip adventure before heading home to Tampa for the holidays. Apologies for the lack of regularity, but hang in there because I’ve got lots more to write about.
Roses for Rosa 