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Published: July 30th 2008
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I´m about two weeks behind on this whole blog thing because I just haven´t had chance to get near a computer. Today I have a little free time since litterally ALL my clothes are at the laundry and I can´t leave the hostel wearing only a pair of tights and a llama pattern jumper, so I will use this opportunity to catch up. So based on notes I´ve been making on the back of leaflets during horrendously long bus journeys, here is is installment number one - leaving Canoa
Our favourite electro hut burned down the night before we left. There are two alternative explanations going around town, one that ´bad men´did it, the other involving and electrical fire. Kit favours the conspiracy theory, as always, but I personally feel that a combination of home made wiring, entirely wooden contruction and frequent power surges makes the latter more likely. On Saturday night they´re having a resurection party, and it would not suprise me if they had rebuilt the thing by then. We won´t be around to see it though, we´re moving on. I love Canoa, but we´re concious that we don´t have much time (12 weeks is nothing compared to
the bastards we keep meeting who´ve allocated 6 months to South America on their round the world tours). The only way I can convince myself to leave is by promising that I´ll come back next year. I won´t. I say this about every place I´ve ever been to, but I´ve never returned to the same place twice.
So here is a list of things I love about Canoa, in no particular order.
The fact that litterally everyone here is a surf instructor.
Women who take their children with them, in push chairs, on a night out.
The beach pig.
The suprising amount of people who live in wooden huts, yet own a brand new motorbike.
Pina coladas made out of real pineapple and real coconut.
Most restaurants don´t feel it nessicary to have walls.
The airhorn is a legitimate musical instrument.
We saw the local highschool band play, they had an airhorn.
No one ever tried to steal my crappy bike when I abandoned it, too drunk to cycle home.
Pimped taxis - they have no brakes or seatbelts, but chrome speedometers and dvd players come as standard.
Things I don´t like so much.
Streetlights that
are on all day and off all night.
SAND FLIES.
The inexplicable quantity of dead turtles that keep washing up on the beach.
The gradual realisation that I will not absorb Spanish by a process of osmosis - some actual studying must be involved.
We left late due to an epic farewell game of 7 a side beach football. England versus Ecuador. We were victorious, 6-5, despite the fact that they had TWO goal keepers, one of which was a 7 year old child who cried when you tried to shoot.
We got to Guayaquil pretty late but desperate not to spend the night there again, we got on another bus to Cuenca at bastard oclock in the morning and arrived after about 14 hours travelling, pretty grumpy, to stay in a hostel full of loud, stompy, irritatingly cheerful people with TERRIBLE taste in music. We were too sleepy to get out of bed and shout at them to we just lay there, becoming increacingly enraged. More on Cuenca in a bit.
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