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It was saying:
"Another Margarita" My time in The Valley was like nothing else I have experienced on my trip to date (and that is all I ask of each new destination).
I arrived at the secluded hostel feeling broken and tired but still able to smile happily at the sweet girl who checked me in. I explained that I was sleep-deprived and manic from the buses and she took this as her cue to transform into Florence Nightingale, helping me with my bags and hurrying me into the restaurant so that I could eat before they closed for the night. I thanked her and waited for my menu.
Looking around I could see why this place had been so highly recommended to me. (I decided to come here after a Cuba-Libre-conversation with a cool couple in Cusco who had raved about their time in this particular hostel). The cosy little restaurant area was open on all sides to the warm breeze floating up from the valley and, in the centre of the dark green hills, light from the little town twinkled far below. I could feel the tight grip of the road relaxing by the minute.
As I left the restaurant and
"Sah-weet"
I can handle this type of hostel followed foot-lit pathways past a little waterfall, the swimming pool and some gently swaying hammocks, I estimated that it would cost about $90 Australian if I were to do this at home. In Vilcabamba I would be paying $11.
The hostel is German owned and run and I was very impressed by the dorm room, my best accommodation to date. The room was huge and split into two levels by a wooden loft, a massive stone shower was the cherry on the top. Falling into bed with the place to myself, I planned to do a whole lot of nothing for a while.
This turned out to be incredibly easy in such a tranquil location. The massive (included) breakfasts were a welcome change from Peruvian
desayuno and I enjoyed them in the sunshine looking out over a stunning valley. There are numerous fascinating hikes that you can do in Vilcabamba but, at this stage, I was still not that great at walking and was more interested in rest. Having heeded some good advice to slice away my irritating knee bandage, I had revealed a nasty-looking but fairly superficial wound which needed sun and air to heal.
To
King Cafu
Giving me the big "don´t argue". the pool!
What followed were two relaxing days spent lying in the sunshine, swinging from hammocks and dining with the few fellow travellers sharing the quiet hostel. The girl who had checked me in on arrival was Chantal, a Miami native enjoying a working holiday in Ecuador. I spent a lot of time drinking and laughing with her and Daniel, her English boyfriend who was completely bewitched and a happy prisoner of the Valley. The quiet period that the area was experiencing made us a close little group and, along with Dutch Peter and NY Corrine, we passed some lazy days. Between breezy trips into town lounging in the tray of the Ute-Taxis and a breakfast viewing of the FA Cup, I even found time to squeeze in a two hour full-body massage. This was great for my leg and I am convinced that this contributed greatly to the healing process. The technique was fascinating, the masseur channelled heat to his hands and I could feel it radiating through my knee.
Later that same day I woke up from a snooze by the pool with a perfect iPod shape burned into my stomach. I was relaxing to
new levels and my time in the sun returned all of my strength and enthusiasm. (Incidentally, it had rained heavily for two-weeks- straight just before I arrived).
The warm, still nights were spent curled up on an outdoor couch watching DVDs and eating dangerously large amounts of popcorn. Occasionally our lounging territory on the couch would be ceremoniously annexed by one of two beautiful (and enormous) German Short Haired Pointers, Leica and Cafu. A pair of proud and imposing guard dogs that always melted into licking, snuffling babies when they decided that their working day had ended.
A wandering Brazilian guitarist was performing throughout the village and she dropped in a few times to sing for us while her partner danced around our chairs, it was like a resort-style holiday materialising in the middle of a backpacking adventure. Whatever is was, it arrived at the perfect time to recharge me and delivered a much-needed soul scrubbing.
On my third day I was ready to look over the surrounding hills and plan my next stop. The nagging thought of an unplanned Galapagos cruise was gently nudging me out of my hammock. On a whim I agreed to join
Corrine and head up along the coast to the hedonistic beach-party town of Montanita, the only other Ecuadorian location that I had been told I shouldn´t miss.
Everything was agreed and we planned to depart the following day (¨Maybe just one more night…¨) but suddenly I felt like I was heading the wrong way. In the space of an afternoon, I decided that I should bus straight to Quito (12 hours, overnight) and raced around to organise transport to the terminal in Loja. It was mid-afternoon, the last bus left at 1730, the terminal was an hour away, I had no cash… it was going to be close.
Thankfully I caught a rocket-taxi. On the blurry, winding race back to Loja, I experienced that familiar yearning for the security of a seat belt but the pedal-to-the-metal style was exactly what I needed at that moment. I watched the little green clock on his dash and shifted uncomfortably on my seat, jammed between the door and a fifth passenger.
When we had arrived in Loja and dropped the last of the other passengers off, I tried my luck and asked if we could go via the ATM, there
was no point making it to the bus on time if I couldn´t buy a ticket. Brief haggle. Quick stop at the bank. Onwards!
I arrived and charged through the terminal in time to see them starting the engine of the Quito bus. I had somehow made it just in time. That kind of luck is a real pattern for this trip and it sometimes makes me feel a bit weird, like I´m on The Truman Show and everything runs to my timetable.
After an enthusiastic patting down by the hostess (very security conscious on these buses) I was on board and we were underway, by the next day I would be in the capital.
It´s a pity that I couldn´t/didn´t stop at Baños, Riobamba, Montanita etc. as they are all highly recommended, you don´t find many travellers bussing the length of the country in one hit, but I was being pushed to Quito by a strong gut feeling and I have learned to trust these. As I drifted off to sleep with one eye open, I decided that I would come back down this way if I had time.
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anonymous
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Truman Show
Are you kidding? The Truman show is based on your life. Sail off into the sunset! (Hopefully they don't erase this comment...) - Liz