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Published: February 15th 2006
Executive Summary: After embracing my inner Peter Pan in Canoa, I finally traveled on down the coast to Puerto Lopez and Montañita for quick visits before heading on to the harrowing border into Tumbes, Peru. Couple observations on local marketing and the coffee quandary.
Puerto Lopez
Puerto Lopez has just lately become a bonafide destination, thanks to the clever local PR engine that has dubbed nearby Isla Plata 'the poor man's Galapagos'. How close that comes to the truth I'm not sure, being too poor to compare, but the real draw seems to be the humpback whales that put on a show from July to September. It's always a bit strange and melancholy to travel off-season through a destination known almost exclusively for an activity you'll have to miss. But in reality the nearby National Machalilla Park equals the whales for a tourist's raison d'etre, boasting not only the island about 24 miles off the coast, but also the large, well-preserved and administered virgin dry tropical forest and cloud forest inland. $30 gives you access to the park (compared to $100 for Galapagos) and tours are, oh, $35 compared to several hundred, and there's no $350 flight to the island.
OK, so there wasn't tons to see on the Silver Island (so called because of putative buried treasure never found) but what could be better than getting up close and personal to lots and lots of boobies? I know, it's a tired double entendre, but I can't help myself. I'm of course talking about blue-footed and red-footed boobies, and along with the frigate birds, they were everywhere on the island. There was also some decent snorkeling-- not the lovely coral, but mucho tropical fish.
Up in the tropical dry forest I walked and baked along dry dusty trails, using my best mosquito evasion techniques (which generally evolves helplessly to mosquito cursing tirades). I chose the path to the beaches, and discovered gorgeous points and sandy beaches, without the typical Ecuadorian litter, a bit more snorkeling, and superb birdwatching. I met a friendly Swedish couple and learned that you can get a PhD in raptor migration-- this guy spends his research finding, trapping, and tagging birds with transmitters that are followed by satellite. They were learning that those crazy birds fly much farther south than previously thought.. and he made an unbelievable spot of an osprey far off, benefiting from
his skills and perhaps from his $1500 pair of binoculars.
Surf hard, Party harder
A bit further south is surf mecca Montañita, which was my first real experience of a South American big-time party town. Full of hippies, rastas, euros, Americans, but also many more Latin American travelers than I expected. It was my last chance to surf, maybe, so I signed up for a short board lesson the only full day I was there. It's a big, bad, world class juicy right-breaking point break. It was fun in the morning to watch nice 7-8' glassy waves break along the point with all the mayhem and awesome wave-riding that accompanies any popular break. Definitely a bit out of my comfort zone, and I wasn't sure I'd even be able to paddle out. I don't even have a single tattoo! My instructor, a 24 year old local who rips it up on a short board, took me out with a shortish longboard (typical-- the shortboard promised earlier was broken). We started with a short stretching session which he seemed to suggest right after I answered how old I was. We decided it was best to stay a bit inside, 'down
wave' from the actual point, where the other wanna be's and novices were hanging out, taking the scraps from the master surfers farther out.
I actually caught a couple of those waves, and the speed and strength surprised me, but what a rush! It makes me want to give up Short Sands beach a bit more in favor of Agate beach, cos the point break makes a big difference.. not only with 'directional' surfing, but more power and juice. After a few rides, more people came out and I got totally skunked, and a bit discouraged. You're not supposed to take off on a wave if someone else is already on it, which happened constantly since I was downwave, and because others around me could get up better than me. I might just be too nice or timid to participate at a point break, or anywhere there is one spot where people catch the wave. It was a lot like being at Sayulito, Mexico, where I couldn't realistically hang with the locals, and who had no reason to cut me any slack and let me catch one wave to their, oh, 25 or so.
There's a main street
where all the artist-hippies are selling jewelry, folks are jamming on pipes and bongo drums, and others are practicing juggling (can someone explain how this made it into generic hangout hippy behavior?) I loved the scene, with all the typically competing loud stereos, open street front restaurants and bars, and vendors selling perfect junk food (empañadas--deep fried pockets with cheese or other goodies-- and of course 'hamburguezas'). The beating drums carried far into the night, along with the eternal flow of cervezas and daquiris. Bacchus Lives!
Border crossing-- Beware!
I got nervous before the border crossing into Peru, as I started my wayward journey south toward the bottom of Chile. I had decided to bus into Peru, take some inner-Peru flights, then use buses in Chile, because the one-way flight from Ecuador was $800, and because I thought this would be a great chance for an adventure! The guidebook advised me to cross further East, and that this particular crossing was 'harrowing', and usually took up to 2 hours. It was described as crowded, theft-ridden, hot, and worst of all, it had me paranoid about crooked cops that would plant drugs on you then demand $1000 on the spot
football at sunset, Puerto Lopez
Usually there would be 2 or 3 simultaneous makeshift games on the beach at sunset('if asked to enter a bathroom for a search, demand that you are accompanied by a witness'). I also talked with a travel agent over the phone, but there was a bad connection and I didn't catch whether he was advising me to NOT take a taxi (because of collusion with the police) or TO take a taxi. He was definitely trying to warn me about something. Oh, and there's a lot of counterfeit dollars and Peruvian Soles at the border, so be careful changing money. In the huge Guayaquil bus terminal it was the same overwheliming scene I had faced earlier in Quito... 50 bus companies, endless bus loading areas. But I took advantage, unintentionally, of one of the pro's that hang out trying to figure out where people want to go and pulling them to a specific company's ticket window. The guy who helped me reassured me that the bus would go directly to Tumbes, across the border, that it had a bathroom, that it would go nonstop, etc (rather than stopping at the border, forcing me to walk across, find more transortation on the other side, as it was described by my out-of-date guidebook). This was in
SPANISH mostly! I was so proud. I thought we were done and I was thinking 'gee what a nice guy', naively, but he then asked pretty firmly for a tip, so I handed him .50 (10% of the bus ticket..), but he convinced me that $1 would be more appropriate.
I was the only American, only English speaker on the bus, and my simple preparation was to split up my money and cards a bit more (I carry some cash and copies of my documents in my pack.. I had a bit of cash in my wallet, other cash and passport and cards in my money pouch, and $100 and my ATM card in my sock!) As it turns out my main savior was the guy who collects money on the bus, the driver's assistant, who shepherded me a bit through the right offices, the right forms, and made me feel safer that the bus wouldn't leave without me. It took me longer than anyone else on the bus, but my luggage didn't get searched (my backpack never made it off the bus) and I didn't fall prey to any blood-sucking, corrupt border officials. But just as if I
needed some reminder that the border is not completely innocuous and pleasant, one of the hordes of money changers scampered on the bus during the melee of passing through the Ecuadorian border town, and was getting off when the driver's assistant held him up and quickly looked over some of the the 50 Sole notes the woman sitting in front of me received after changing dollars. He sucked on the corner of the bill and became visibly alarmed and asked everyone else on the bus if they had changed money. It was a forgery, and he booted the guy off the bus!
Low-tech Marketing
Another fun thing about the bus is the stream of hawkers that enter the bus or take advantage of window-high platforms outside the bus at every stop. They come in holding up their ice cream, water, empañadas, candy, books, knicky knacks, etc. etc. and yelling constantly. But my 'favorite' is what I'd call the walking infomercial. This entails someone getting on the bus and after it gets going, the music is turned down and he stands up and goes into a shpiel about whatever he's selling. One guy had his own headset connected to a
stomach-level speaker, selling some cure-all pill I think. We are certainly trapped, so the message delivery is hard to miss. By the way, whatever child labor laws there may be, they don't seem to apply to this sort of work, as many of the food peddlers are young kids.
Something else that adds to the generally irritating noise levels is the use of megaphones by roving street vendors. In Canoa, there was one guy selling bread who would go around at 7am on a bike, tooting his horn constantly. A couple aggravated danes, I heard, haggled with the guy trying to buy his horn, which he finally gave up for $2.50. He then went around the corner and bought another for $1.50, and the tooting continued. In the larger town where I am now (Tumbes, Peru) I've seen fruit peddlers pushing their carts with makeshift megaphones announcing themselves. Along with the CONSTANT horn honking and loud motos (taxiing motorcycles with built-on, canopied 2-wheeled trailers), it's a loud scene.
Where's the Coffee?
South America has great coffee, right? Well it's dang hard to find, and I was disappointed and curious when I consistently received instant coffee in the morning.
These countries, I've heard, have the coffee but export it all, and don't even have industrial roasting, so maybe it's even more expensive here since it has to be exported and imported. Of course I can find real coffee, but it's definitely a tourist thing. But I have to pass on an item of enlightenment to Dave Hays. When living with him, Becca and I would constantly tease him about his morning ritual of freeze-dried coffee, given the proximity of Stumptown coffee and a 'few' other quality coffee businesses in town. Well Dave, there's a whole other world you should know about, as down here they ask if you want cafe, or cafe con leche. Cafe is hot water, and cafe con leche is hot milk. They add the instant coffee to a whole cup of steaming milk! So rich and tasty. Then this morning, my first breakfast in Peru, I asked for cafe con leche and received my mug of hot milk, the bowl of sugar, but couldn't find the coffee. I finally asked for it and she pointed to the decanter on the table that looked like it had soy sauce in it-- it was the coffee! I
guess some kind of concentrate from instant, but who knows. Some is better than none, but of the many things I miss, real coffee is near the top.
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Cuando vas a empezar a escribir tu Journal en Español? Tus fotos son espectaculares, y me encanta como explicas lo que ves. Bendiciones! -d