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Published: October 21st 2008
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Esmeraldas...
View from hostel in Esmeraldas. The restaraunt downstairs was good...Las Redes. Buenas tardes everybody. It has been some time since my latest dispatch, and a lot has happened. I have also been sitting at this computer for about an hour and half now, writing emails. So I guess this is a warning to the reader...this blog might be sloppy.
My last entry was from Otavalo, a popular market town a couple hours north of Quito, in the mountains. A notable event from there: I watched the Ecuador Chile eliminatorias game (a league game to determine who gets into the 2010 World Cup, this game did not determine if Chile or Ecuador made it, per say, but its nearing the end of the eliminatorias and was certainly important)...I watched this game in a packed theater with a bunch of Otavaleños. They served popcorn and soda, had stadium seating, and a balcony. The game was close, but a dude from Chile got a red card in the first period and Ecuador dominated the ball thereafter. Ofcourse everyone is always waiting for the goal. Whenever Ecuador would get the ball even near the 18 yard box the crowd would getter louder, and if a shot on goal occured, high pitched screams echoed off the walls accompanied by a series of groans and talking about what the guy should have done with the person sitting next to you. When Ecuador finally scored in the second period the crowd erupted, screaming, high fiving. Everybody was psyched. Ecuador won 1-0 but has since lost to Venezuela and is now tied with a handful of teams for the final spot to go to South Africa in 2010. They have to beat either Brazil or Paraguay in their next two games to qualify. The two best teams.
From Otavalo I took a short bus ride farther north to a town of about 100,000 called Ibarra. On the surface the town is coarse. Streets are dirty, and the pollution is reminiscent, if not worse than Quito. But, just about everybody I met in Ibarra was very nice. I got my clothes washed, basically for free, by a women who just through them in with some other guy and told me not to tell the dueña of the store. I talked with a bunch of nice locals in the town park. Including two Ecuadorian Jehovahs witnesses for at least an hour.
They quizzed me pretty hard on my beliefs, ridiculed evolution, and referred to the bible like an unequivicol rule book. We left on good terms though, maybe well see you in the new world, they said as I was escaping. Quizas, I shot back, perhaps. Parks in Ecuador are really more of plazas. A variety of trees shade benches strewn about a square with a statue in the middle usually honoring a liberator--an upper middle class Spanish dissenter who became really upset with crown when it started making them pay higher taxes to finance their wars. Thats what it seems like to me anyway...The park really was the event in Ibarra, that and the people. The night of my second or third day there I got quite ill with a fever and stayed in bed bundled up in most of the clothes I brought with a bottle of sprite and animal crackers. I did a lot of reading and watched a lot of basic cable. Which means I watched a lot of profoundly bad American movies dubbed over (one with Gene Hackman as the commander of some French troupe in northern africa or the middle east, and a particularly bad one with Denzel Washington as the protector of a girl who gets kidnapped in Mexico City), also a lot of the simpsons.
I left Ibarra after two or three days with the fever and took a bus to the coast, to the north eastern province called Esmeraldas, and to the city of Esmeraldas. Although ardous, the bus ride proved to be totally awesome once again. The first couple hours are really the best part. From Quito (I had to go back to Quito first) the bus winds down curvy narrow roads with perilous looking drop offs to the right of the bus. A totally green valley, every tree, every shrub looking like something is growing on it, and below a grey-blue river tears pastic rustic bungalows with cows out front. Much of our descent was mired in fog. Which made things quite spectacular, and a bit nerve racking. There were a lot of delays on this road, for construction (Ecuador is re-tooling their transpotation and infrastruction, which seems wise considering the state of some of the roads) and for accidents. At one point we passed another passenger bus missing its front end and with a smashed windshield. The dented rear of the truck in front of it showed signs of where the bus had hit it. Some of the passengers of the bus hopped on ours, to get out of the rain, and to get going. It would seem that our bus driver didnt really heed any of these signs of danger on the road. He drove, as Marizela, the women sitting next to me said, como un loco. She mentioned this to him when we made a stop later along on the drive. Seven hours later, and three or four immensely bad, but sometimes good 80s kung foo movies later we arrived in Esmeraldas. There seems to be some kind of conspiracy going on down here with really bad kung foo movies on buses. These ones were particularly bad, not Van Damm or Stephen Segal bad, another breed of bad. The kind of bad where every movie the bad guy has to have a pony tail. The kind of bad that happens when Hollywood gets a hold of some small piece of Eastern culture--fighting--and proceeds to put it in the hands of a bunch of hacks, whose kicks and punches are no more convincing than their grunts that accompany them. But...we arrive in Esmeraldas. And I hop in a taxi to a hotel about a block and a half away from the bus station. Esmeraldas has a rap of being a notoriousely dangerous city and I was told not to walk around with my bags, at any time of day. The taxi driver waited outside my hotel as I banged on the wooden door. Finally a kid my age, Rafa, came to the door with a candle. The power was out in Esmeraldas, so the Hostal Miraflores was going on candle light. I took a cold shower by candle light. It felt amazing after a long bus ride with a broken window and little water. When I stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, the telephone rang, and the TV and lights turned out. The power was back. I went to bed.
Since then I have been walking around the city, talking with folks, and sampling the local fare (I assume fare is food, Ive only heard this used, never used it myself)...The encebolladas are excellent. A stew like conoction, with fresh fish, potatoes, onions, and an unknown herb. Its seasoned with lime before serving, and then the locals, and of course me tooo, add ketchup, mustard, oil, and break plaintain crackers on top. You can also add aji sacuem which is spicy enough to get the water in your eyes running but an excellent way to wake up. After one of these one can go and sample one of the many fresh juices. Fresh juice vendors with their parasols set up over their operation line the streets of Esmeraldas. There are only two varieties that I have found. Orange juice. Excellent of course. And then something called trungua, or tuhungrua. I think its grapefruit. The guy who first gave me one described it as a stronger orange. Eight ounces of this stuff never seems to do the trick, Im always going back for more. The ceviche, a cold soup with some kind of seafood cooked in lime is also excellent. Lots of stuff cooked in coconut here too.
Last night I went out to a karaoke bar with a guy who works at the hostel Im staying at. I ended up having a few beers and singing that song by the police about being a stalker. I was looking for the Band, but sadly...their english music selection was not up to par. Thought I would leave you guys with that image. Signing off.
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