Ecuador: Part Two; and some Final Thoughts from Afar

I just discovered this unpublished  log entry I had been preparing at the end of my last trip to South America. Though unfinished, it gives a bit of closure to what had been an amazing 5 months, and a few final thoughts about the experience.  Plus,  well, Banos and Quito were pretty cool places. Enjoy this little time warp to 2011....

-------------------------

Almost 6000 miles, 48-hours, 3 cities, 2 time zones, 1 good sleep, a language barrier, a continent, and a crazy night of partying later, I find myself alone in an apartment in San Francisco, California. A kind guy from CouchSurfing.org has left me in his apartment for the evening, and over Gaudi and the smell of rice cooking with seaweed, I'm finding my thoughts drawn back to the last few weeks, and my final experiences in South America. Everywhere I go in this city, be it the mostly African districts, the parks frequented by dogs and their pets, North Beach (filled with strip clubs and beat poetry spaces), or the ol' Haight-Ashbury, I notice Spanish speakers, signs in Spanish, Mexican and Latino restaurants. In fact, I realize that the only reason I ate at a cheap burrito restaurant today was the hope of speaking some Spanish to someone.

Reverse culture shock hits the unsuspecting gnome. Blown away, I am, at how clean, orderly, and sterile things seem here; the easy availability of luxurious consumer goods (english books, seaweed, miso, herbal teas, and good toothpaste!!!); the apparent lack of hardware stores, copy shops, internet cafes, little tiendas, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants (all of which are a dime-a-dozen in Peru and Ecuador); the conspicuous absence of reggaeton; and just how damn expensive everything is here. In my initial search before finding the burrito place, I scoured the Haight for cheap food. The cheapest reasonable thing was a $2.50 taco... a far cry from a filling $2 set lunch!

Far be it for me to compare and contrast America-norte with America-sur, though. They're just different. And between those differences, one can find a wealth of experience, both instructive and contemplative. Although not even I know exactly how this trip has affected me and my path, I hope that through sharing some of these final thoughts and experiences that you all can understand just a wee bit better the trajectory I've set upon...

So, where was I.....?

Ah yes, I was on a bus, leaving the paradise of Puerto Lopez, my one-and-only opportunity to *really* soak in the coastal sun and surf. And that very evening, over thick black bread (a real treat!) and Gatorade, Lydia and I took in the sights and sounds of... the Guayaquil bus depot (some opinions hold that it's actually the nicest part of the city). Half American-style super-mall, half bus parkade, the Guayaquil terminal terrestre is three stories of confusion, noise, people, sunglass stalls, ticket agents yelling destinations at you, a huge grocery store, and surprisingly well-kept bathrooms. And I managed to find a $0.50 headphone jack splitter! Seeing how our bus back south to Loja wasn't leaving for.... 9 hours.... we had time to kill.

Luckily we weren't the ones on the receiving end of the killing. For once the bus left (an ordeal, involving a ticket agent trying to convince us to take the later bus...), we found ourselves praying or our lives, as our driver swerved and sped into the darkness of night. Now, I don't want to scare you folks.... but I think that might actually be the last time I take a night bus. At least in the mountains. Because at one point, I was sure the bus had actually lept off the side of the cliff, and that we were in free-fall. Reaching over to Lydia, her arm grabbing mine in mild terror, I found we had shared similar concerns...

I don't think I have ever been so happy for dawn to come.

In said morning, our final leg of (saner) bussing brought us back to the beautiful, tranquil valley of Vilcabamba, where I had planned to spend some of my last weeks. Intrigued by my previous description of 'the best place ever!', Lydia joined me, just days short of her impending trip back to Lima, then ultimately Berlin. Two days later, after much reminiscing, photo and memory sharing, jamming, and our usual fun, we parted ways in the Loja bus station. Not the most lovely place to part ways, but, well, fitting...

I stayed in Vilcabamba for another 10 days. It just felt like home, and I really had some difficulty pulling myself away. Not only is the valley so... relaxing... but I had made some friends, and was feeling the community vibe. Plus, having a kitchen was pretty cool!

Remember how I mentioned that Vilcabamba had about 300 gringos living there, and that there was a chocolate cafe? Well, those two concepts converge with Pineapplehead, a dread-headed brotherman from Cali, and his Ecuadorian wife, Ximena. A tattoo speaking the praises of barefeet graces her foot, while thick black dreads frame her smile, too big for words. Pineapple often sports a patch on his shirt of, well, a pineapple, and gazes out at the world from behind probably the most hilarious pair of glasses ever (frames only...). The day I wandered back into the shop, Ximena had several people sitting on the floor, and was passing out cups of hot mate de coca. And the next thing I know, I'm talking with another Chris, and we realize that we met last winter, at a Vipassana retreat. Trippy..... Casa de Chocolate works it's magic. As Pineapple often related, the space wasn't so much about making money, but rather just to have another gathering space for likeminded folks to share. That night (a Tuesday), someone asked if we were having the Tuesday-night Rainbow Gathering. Laughter ensued :)

I won't go into much detail about the next 10 days (as most involved slight modifications of the same activities...). However - I made sauerkraut. And it was AWESOME! I can't believe how much I miss that stuff while I'm gone. As well (in no particular order), I ate a lot of pan integral with papaya-maracuya jam; hiked up to an amazing lookout near the reserve I was living at; walked through a huge mud-pit, and subsequently had my hiking boots stolen while I was leaving them out to dry; hiked up cerro Mandango (the towering local hill) in flip-flops; went to a Cuban music show which ended up being non-Cuban, but involved drinking a lot of rum with three crazy French girls; made some more local (gringo) friends; went to a dinner party hosted by a really neat woman; thought I had parasites but realized that without the other symptoms I was probably being hypochondriacal; watched the world go by while sipping good coffee; read a bit; confronted some major psychological and existential questions, then got over it; finally reconnected with my happiness; ate a LOT of other good food; and generally had fun.

(Speaking of fun... I almost got abducted by my host, Jesus, and his - extremely attractive - friends to go party somewhere. Would have been fun, except that the cover is $20 of my non-existent funds, and they want to go out until 4 or 5 am. I'm getting picked up here at the ungodly hour of 4:30 am to get to Arcata. Ah well, next time...)

Probably the most memorable, and arguably most annoying/relieving, aspect of Vilcabamba was my experience with the hospital. Much to my surprise, Ecuador has free healthcare. Gringos included. I asked some locals about it, and they said that, especially in rural areas, the healthcare is free, and actually pretty good quality. Although there are more expensive private clinics, the free healthcare is generally fast, thorough, and efficient. Recall that I was swimming in Puerto Lopez? Well, one day I awoke to find I couldn't hear a thing from my left ear. If you've ever had a wax blockage, you know how annoying it is. A few days later, the doctor tells me that he can help, and prescribes ear drops, telling me to come back in 4 days for irrigation. I ask him the price, and he says 'nothing'. Stupified, I go to the pharmacy, and walk out a dollar lighter and a bottle heavier. 4 days pass, and I return for the irrigation. You know it's a good day when the doctor cries 'madre de dios!' (mother of god!) upon seeing a wax ball drop into the pan. 15 minutes later, I walked out with perfect hearing and a smile on my face, free of charge! 

Another example of this was in Banos, where I was concerned that I might have *gasp* malaria! I had been experiencing mild body fevers, as well as general malaise. In all honesty, I blame some of the symptoms on exhaustion - I had spent my last night in town (before a 13-hour bus ride) staying up all night drinking with a friend, and hadn't slept well the previous night. Next thing I know, I'm getting dosed with antibiotics, from a nurse who is convinced I have a throat/lung infection. Blood tests 2 days later confirmed I had bacterial infections in my stomach and throat, and needed more antibiotics. I basically spent my entire time in Banos sleeping, eating well, monitoring my well-being, and bathing in the hot thermal baths. But I got better, and it was free!

Banos *is* a pretty cool place, despite the fact that I didn't do anything while I was there except sleep. I made efforts to do things, yes, but always seemed to be foiled. The city is renound for it's outdoor opportunities, including ample hiking, mountain biking, canyoning, rafting, paragliding, dune-buggy rentals, volcano tours. In fact, the volcano erupted about 10 days before I arrived, and the whole city had been covered in ash. People were still walking around with particle masks, and there continued to be layers of thin black ash inside our bathroom in the hostal, somehow filtering in... Try as he might, one of my roommates, night after night, went up to the volcano crater to see what he could see. Which was basically just clouds. Upstairs, there was an amazing rooftop patio, with a cafe for breakfasts, serving real, strong coffee. Plus, they baked their own bread... mmmmmmm.....

The morning finally came when one just has to make a move. And it seemed a perfect day, since the three of us who had been sharing the dorm room all decided to leave for Quito. William and I had our eyes set on Otavalo, where every Saturday the biggest market in South America explodes. Perhaps it's an exaggeration, but they say there are a staggering 3500 stalls! Now that's shop-till-you-drop. However.... I didn't make it. On the way into Quito, daunted by the size of the city, and the cost of taxis, I decided to stay in the city. You know me and cities....

Despite it's unbelievable size (from viewpoints in town, you can't see the end of the city. It's as if the city just spreads to the horizon, forever...).