Ecuador & Columbia

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After a surprisingly pleasant 40 hour bus journey from Cuzco to the Ecuadorian border (Oltsura bus company is highly recommended) we arrived at the border town of Tumbes (Peru) looking for a bed. Alright taxi dude, find us a hostel.
No problem my friends, but you must be aware tomorrow the road to the border is blocked by protesters, unhappy at banana prices. Hmmm. For how long, we inquire.. It could be days. Hmmmm. Is that a rat?
The border was some 45 mins from Tumbes, so of course he may be fishing for a fare. He took us to a reasonably priced spot quite happily, but what if...
Needing to go there anyway we decided to head straight for the border, to a huge immigration complex that was practically deserted (it cost about 4 quid, not exactly breaking the bank). As it turns out, this could have been a wise choice. 2 Antipodeans we met in Columbia said that at this border, on the bridge, they were accosted by a large group. They had taken a Cifa bus which dropped them some 20 mins walk from the complex. Demanding an extra tax for the bus comapny - they had a manifest and knew their names - they were taken for $200. Clearly a mugging - the bus would have cost a fraction of this! - the worrying thing was the manifest. Avoid Cifa, at all costs.

By now, we were pretty tired, but decided to head for Machala for a nights rest, another 4 hours. What a hole. A large, hot industrial city but if it had bed to sleep in then it would do. The street outside the hotel was thick with sewage, and the central market seemed to do quite well sitting atop the effluent. Certainly worse than the "Penrith Pong", my word the grain pickers would be unamused. And so, onto Guayaquill. A city with a reputation of being dangerous, dirty and downright avoidable.
Not the case. Granted we stayed in the centre, but we felt perfectly safe walking around at night - it was busy, and with a strong police presence. The seafront area was recently modernised and was a great place to escape the stifling heat. At one end was some area I cannae remember the name of, a hillside dotted with multicoloured houses, cafes, bars and served by winding lanes and stairways. Truly beautiful and we decided to stay longer. Glad we did, cos then we found Parque Bolivar. A small city centre square. Full of huge iguanas. A strange and wonderful thing to experience in the (dangerous) port city. And then we went to bed and watched tv. BBCs One Big Weekend. From Carlisle. Did not expect to see that on Ecuadorian tele, and we actually got excited about this. A damn site more so than when it was actually on, our hatred of the supremely talentless Bl#ck Ey#d P##s knowing no bounds and all.

From the city to the sea (ta, PJ Harvey) we went up to the Pacific coast to Puerto Lopez, where we didnt go whale watching. A quiet little spot famed for tours to go and harrass endangered humpacks trying to screw, the conservationist in me frowned at the thought. So we spent our time drinking and perhaps some light eating. Our first night we holed up at a wee beach bar, where the owner was due to leave Ecuador for the first time to live with his wife, who was in Scotland. The drink flowed freely, and when the talk came to football it turned out that these guys played 5 a side, and yes, I could play the next day. As long as I paid my share, some 8 dollars. Which would have made the hire of the pitch $80. Right. Drunk, well of course, but I aint that thick. The crack flowed, and as it was time to finally retire, one of the guys - "A big eared boy from the farm" - asked for a dollar for his beer. Well, no. Ok, 50c will do. Everyones laughing, I aint paying. This goes on for a few mins and I have no desire to cave, especially when he leans in and says (now my Spanish aint fluent, but I got this much) "Give me 50c or I will break your back". Well I found this hilarious and burst out laughing, and told him to piss off. Caroline though took 25c and gave it him, having had enough by this point so the inbred coastal fuckwit got his moment in the sun in front of his friends.
Needless to say, I didnt play football the next day.
Pretty much the only thing we did in Puerto Lopez was drink, although we did go and visit another beach for a bit of variety, called Los Frailes. A stunningly beautiful bit of sand some 3km from the bus stop, we were grateful to the Chilean couple who stopped and gave us a lift. No bloody beer for sale though, so it was duly ruined.

And on to Quito, which 5 years ago became my favourite city in the world. (It has since lost this honour.) I was shocked at the increase in prices - it has become rather expensive - although we found a hostel for $6 each a night before embarking on our first couchsurfing experience. Jackpot. The guy owned a block of flats, and basically gave us the top floor appartment. I will be around if you need me, but not at night he says. Hang on.. we have this place to ourselves? Brilliant! Full cable as well, which meant I could watch plenty of English footy (when she wasn't looking, of course (finally figured out the apostrophe!)). Up the Voto Nacional, around the old town.. where 4.. yes 4! taxi drivers refused to take us at night - this in a dangerous city, seemingly having taken Guayaquill's crown, we learned then that you just jump in and then tell the arsey bastards where you want. We ended up walking back to 'our' appartment, through a slightly edgy area. Not pleased.
One evening in Mariscal Sucre, the gringo bar area, we found a German artesanal beer house. Brilliant! We'll have a litre each of this! (YES! A LITRE!). Oh.. what the hell have you done... It came with a thick crusting of salt around the top. Seriously, what the sodding hell have you done to my beer?! The longest and most difficult beer of our lives.
We got out the city for a few days and went to couchsurfing place number 2, in Los Bancos, a town near Mindo. Nice family and all but.. they had a wee kiddie in their young family and the house was tiny. A really nice family, but it was so hard not to feel like you were imposing somehow. 'Watch any films you want' they said as they went to bed at 9pm, but how could we risk waking the little one? We only stayed 2 days anyway and went to Mindo for a couple to kick back and drink loads of rum. While in this cloud forest paradise, part of me wished for home as I listened to United's biggest match for a while, against Spurs in the cup - even if we did get spanked 0-3.

Back to Quito for a few days and then.. up to Otavalo and our first bit of work for 5 months at La Luna de Mojanda hostal. What an experience.. A stunningly beautiful hideout overlooking the town with views of Cotacachi and Imbabura mountains, both just short of 5,000m (c. 15,000ft). Expecting to be housed in the dorm during our stay, we were given a lovely private room.. with a CARPET! It's the small things.
Generally, our day started at 7.45 and finished at 10pm, although large parts of the work involved talking to the guests and.. drinking. It was a quiet time of year, although we had some busy moments. One night there was a group of 35 from a school in Quito. Dinner time for them was barbequed burgers, so me and Kev, the English owner, had that task. Popping into the restaurant I was confronted with mayhem, so I beat my retreat to the burning embers where we drank beer. Leave that mess to the chicas, eh? After having to clean all rooms the next day, about 5pm one of the workers told us that surely we'd done enough. After a hard days work, sitting on the grass with Cerveza Club - rapidly becoming the greatest of all my friends - and gazing at the most incredible view, was one of those moments of blissful serenity. It sure beats finishing work at home and sitting on the couch. The owners, Kev and Tamara, were wonderful people and we loved to work for them - and with the brilliant locals, Suzie, Rosa, Fernando and Ivan. Originally we planned a month there then a month in Columbia. We decided to stay longer, with a week in Columbia. So...

COLUMBIA

Breaking the journey up to Popayan, we spent the night in the city of Pasto. Not an easy place for veggies. The only food we could find in amongst the 10billion fried chicken places was a slice each of pizza.. fruit pizza. Although Caroline's also came with ham and pepperoni. On the way back to Otavalo we repeated the journey and couldn't even manage that. If not for her, I'd have faltered. Made do with tatties and salad that time.
Popayan itself is a stunning colonial city, but yet again we did very little other than imbibe. And walk about. That's a nice park! Yes, we can sit there and drink. That's a nice bench! Yes...
We did go to a cracking little bar one night, playing old Columbian 7" which was a nice change from the usual shite that prevails on this continent. The drunken tramp outside threatening me was amusing, it's hard to be scared when he's struggling to pick up some discarded cake. Another guy who was smoking outside struck up a conversation. We told him we worked at a hostel in Otavalo and he asked "as translators?". A long way from getting a lasagne when I asked for a beer, a nice little ego boost for us.
The owners of La Luna with friends with the owners of the hostal in Popayan, so the noticeboard on reception was furnished with "Fran & Caroline.. VIP guests.. Please give your best attention". Nice. And half price for us.
One thing about Columbia is the amount of searches by the military. One guy went in my washbag and looked confused by the bottle of aftershave, so I gave him a demonstration. He liked it enough and wished me a good journey. Alas, he failed to put drugs in my bag.

ECUADOR (again)

So we returned "home" to La Luna, where we could eat like kings again and avoid people who used the street as a plate. Our last night involved a lot of mojitos and Club and the next day a rough hangover was the obvious result. Lunch with Kev and Tamara before getting the overnight to Cuenca. Leaving here was really, really hard. We got to know the guys really well and became firm friends. There were tears in the taxi as we left for the last time, the reality hitting home that our time there was over. La Luna will stay with us for a very, very long time, and we're considering returning in the future. The thought of never seeing everyone again is too painful. We simply have to go back.

With heavy hearts we arrived in the stunning city of Cuenca, featured in the film "Que tan Lejos". Our room had a door to the shared bathroom, so we were woken early each morning by the sounds of people crapping, pissing and hocking in the shower. (Not all of those in the shower. We hoped.) Quite a change from our tranquil highland paradise. We wondered around a few days soaking up the atmosphere (that's a nice riverbank! Yes...) and treating ourselves to slap up meals to ease our pain. Cafe Eucalyptus comes highly recommended. A really beautiful city and we would have liked to spend longer, but we have places to be and a visa to adhere to. Entonces, on to Vilcabamba. This is getting shorter cos my arse is really hurting now, what with this wooden stool. Hang on, that one has cusions. Right. We've spent our last few days in a stunning hostel called Izchaluma. Izychulma. Izhy.. stuff it. It's nice. Hills, flowers, all that stuff. (That's a nice hummingbird! Yes...). Great food, great rooms. A bit out of our price range, but we need cheering up still, and it's been a perfect place to spend our last few days in Ecuador. Again we aint done a great deal - although we walked into town today! That's 2kms!! But we can see the mountains, don't have to walk there. Tonight then, we're taking a night bus to Piura in Peru, and the start of a 2,000 mile journey by bus back to Jujuy in Argentina to work at Aldea Luna for Christmas.

Feliz Navidad!

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