Ecuador & Lima


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January 30th 2012
Published: January 30th 2012
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January 7, 2012
Manta, Ecuador


Last night I met Marge, who I think might be the most fascinating woman I´ve ever met. ¨One world, one life.¨she says. ¨So why not explore it?¨Marge is in her 50s and has divorced her husband and only speaks to her children every few months. She believes that everyone has a personal right and wrong, and for her, if she is hurting someone it is wrong, and if she is not, it is not. Her children urge her to settle down and find a husband, but she prefers traveling. She says she never again wants to love a man; sex is good enough for her.
Despite not wanting her own children, which she refers to as ´squares,´she has helped raise 32 ´sons.´ One such son, who she met while traveling, had a serious problem with meth. She asked him if he would like to clean up his life and come to live with her and go to school. He said yes, very much, so she took him to the airport with her. When they arrived to the airport, there were no more tickets available so she gave him money to buy a ticket and said she would wait for him at her house. Her friends said it was a waste of money and he would just spend it on drugs. Two weeks went by and the man finally showed up at her door. He said he had indeed spent the money on drugs but had felt so guilty that he found a way to travel down the river and get to her house. One day, Marge said to the man, ¨Let´s smoke meth together today.¨The man was appalled, but they smoked meth together all day. At the end of the day Marge said to him, Ï want to smoke more meth. If you get more, I will smoke it with you, and I will continue to smoke with you, and my life will be ruined, and I will never be able to help another boy again, and it will be your fault.¨ The man did not get more meth and in fact never touched the drug again. He attended college and is leading a successful life and is still friends with Marge.



January 20, 2012
Los Ciriales, Ecuador
18N 591936, 1240352


New favorite place. This is probably the most beautiful, most untouched, least touristy place we've been to. It's a sort of valley surrounded by mountains with a deserty landscape. It actually reminds me quite a bit of my parents' house in Arizona. Except that there's an ocean right here. The beach we are on is white sand, connects with Machalilla National Park, and looks out on an island. There are plenty of pelicans sitting out on the water. Our first night here we camped on the beach and had a nice little fire. After that, though, we met this couple from Alaska who were staying in a beach house at the end of the beach and they offered us their extra room. Jared gladly took it, but I was a little sad as I would prefer to camp. I decided to go halfway and hang my hammock in the empty shell of a house next door, which I quite enjoy because I get a nice wind, can hear the rhythms of the ocean, and enjoy nightly visits from bats.

We were able to walk along the beach and rocks for several miles and get into Machalilla National Park that way. The park has some more great beaches and trails and an incredible look-out point. The best part is that there are very few people, mayor 3 per beach. The park has vegetation similar to AZ and makes me feel at home. Lots of Prosopis spp., Phoradendron spp., and what I think might be Celtis pallida (don't quote me on that - it's been a long time since I've been tested on these things). There is also an incense tree which smells amazing, and I am told that chewing the leaves helps to relieve a stomach ache.

Yesterday we did a tour of Isla de la Plata. It is called that because when there is a full moon the island looks silver from a distance (due to the high concentrations of bird poop). The tour was very worth it - definitely one of my favorite things we have done so far. It is called the poor man's Galapagos because it has a lot of the same species but doesn't cost an arm and a leg to get there. The blue-footed boobie, or patas azules, were the most unique looking birds I have ever seen. They have a blue beak with an eye that is set so close to the beak that it appears to be the beak's eye and not the bird's. They also have bright blue feet (when adults). They are really quite goofy looking birds, especially when regulating heat (their throats move back and forth) as they were yesterday since it was something like 38 degrees Celcius. Another bird was the fragala. This species, like patas azules, is only found on Isla de la Plata and Galapagos. It is extremely endangered, and there are only 30 breeding pairs on the island. They also only lay one egg at a time.

After the hike we returned to the boat where we were surrounded by giant sea turtles. This was a dream come true for me. The turtles were up to about four feet in length and there were tons of them. We also saw some tropical whales spraying water from a distance.

I somehow managed to forget my camera, but there was a semi-professional photographer hiking with us who promised to send me pictures, so I'm really, really hoping he does. (Still haven´t heard from him so I will include some downloaded pictures of the species there because they really are exceptional. Althought I didn´t actually take these pictures, I promise this is exactly what I saw, including the picture of the coast.)

We went snorkeling for a bit after that, which would have been fun if there hadn't been so many medusas (jellyfish). Everyone was covered in stings - I even had one on my mouth which was horrible. We did see some big parrotfish and these really long skinny fish that just kind of float and let the current move them.

Walking along the beach one day, we found a small maroon-colored eel with white spots washed up on the beach, trying to breathe. Jared took a stick and brought it back into the ocean to live, and thus became my most revered hero.

There are also artefacts from the indigenous people here. There are seven different groups of indigenous people who have inhabited this area, including the Incas. If you hike in the mountains you can find pieces of pottery , spearheads made from obsidian, and tools. Really a neat little town - I'm surprised (but glad) that more people don't visit here.

The people are really friendly here, too, and happy. The kids wave and say hi when you walk by. John (who we are staying with) teaches English at the school, and the children love learning it. He also organizes groups of kids to pick up trash on the beach and in the streets.

The market is great here, too. We just bought an entire chicken for $5, three mangos for $0.50, four avocados for $1, and eight bananas for $0.25. I will really miss the fresh fruit from here. We also had almuerzo for $2, which included a bowl of fresh tuna soup,, fried chicken, rice, beans, chifles (fried banana chips), and fresh watermelon juice. Not a bad deal.




Some more random ramblings...I realized I never updated on the peanut butter situation so, as I would like all of my friends and family to be able to sleep at night, I should say that Ecuador has some of the most rico pb I've ever tasted. None of that bullshit jarred pb that we eat in the us with all the added sugar and who knows what else. This is real pb, fresh from the homegrown peanuts and offered in little plastic baggies. I would like to send some home to my father from whom I inherited this addiction, but it's quite heavy and I'm the only person dedicated enough to carry around 2 pounds of it in my backpack at all times.

Next topic - Catholics. I've never seen so many of them in my life, and there is no separation here of church and state. In fact, there is no separation of church from anything. Every bus I've been in has some sort of catholic poster. The one I'm in now has one of the virgen de el cisne, all adorned with jewels and golden crown and one of the sacred heart of jesus. This, I remember, is the name of the church my grandmother used to attend in st Louis. And now i think ecuador and st Louis mo aren't really that different. Lots of colored folks, lots of conservative folks, and a catholic church and a bar on every corner. The problem with Catholics here though is that they seem to be a bit backwards on their liquor laws. Instead of not allowing you to buy booze in the morning, they prohibit the sale of booze after 3pm on Sundays, forcing the Catholics to get drunk nice and early, before they've even made it to mass. And no one can complete a sentence without 'gracias a dios.' "what time is it?" "1:00, gracias a dios." "do you sell pb?" "yes, gracias a dios." "do you think it will rain today?" doesn't matter wether the answer is yes or no, you can be sure it will end with a gracias a dios.

Another thing I've developed quite an addiction for (or more like my addiction has just gotten more serious, is reading. Whatever I can get my hands on, I read voraciously and fill my head with knowledge on every subject and every emotion included in the spectrum of literature. Many hostels have book exchange, gracias a dios. You find a lot of really cool books this way that you might not otherwise have heard about. World travelers seem to have good taste in this sort of thing.

After spending a week gratis at the beach house we decided to show a bit of responsibility, pick up a package of medicine in manta, and head to Peru, the land of good beers (I hope). All I know is that they have at least one dark beer and I can't wait to get my hands on one.



January 23, 2012
Los Ciriales, Ecuador
We're still in Los Ciriales - it's one of those places that is really hard to leave. I just can't get over how beautiful it is so I have been running along the beach and hiking through the park daily. Saturday night we met the owner of the beach house, Alejandro, along with his brother, Tapito, and their friend, Lucas. Alejandro is the mildest of them but can still put away more beer and wine than I ever could. Tapito is in his 40s but completely out of control. He was wasted the entire time we were with him, and he was trying (and pathetically failing) to flirt with young tourist girls. Lucas was drinking lavishly and sucking up a lot of coke but somehow managed to keep his cool. He's an attractive man in his 40s who speaks decent English and works as a SCUBA diver cleaning fishing boats. So the Ecuadorians took us to this 'party,' which turned out to be a music festival with about 10,000 people, where Lucas's brother was DJing on the mainstage. There were five or six stages set up right on the beach, with music ranging from pop to American rock, reggaeton, electronic, and hip hop. When we left the place at 4:30 there were still people swarming in, getting ready to start their nights. The ride home was interesting as we picked up a bunch of other people and wound up with 19 people in the truck (16 in the bed where I was sitting).

January 25, 2012 *
Piura, Perú
17S 524966, 9835935
First glimpse of Peru. They do have dark beer here, two different kinds even, and it's delicious. It's creamy, almost like a Guiness. Not that I don't still miss my IPAs, but it's great to enjoy a real beer again. They have Inka Cola here, too, right next to the Coca Cola. It's a yellow-green color and I've heard it's disgusting, but I like the name.


The streets here are made up of four smaller streets - two paved and two sandy dirt. You would think that two might be for traffic going one way and two for traffic going the other way, but actually all four mini-streets have traffic going in both directions. Trying to cross the street is chaotic to say the least.




January 26, 2012
Best bus ever on the way to Lima
I am writing simply to tell of the luxuries of this bus. I am sitting on the second floor with my legs spread out on the footrest, watching a movie and also emailing my brother on the bus's wifi. I am snuggled up with the free blanket and pillow provided, waiting for my free dinner which should be served by the stewardess shortly. After I get some shut eye, I will enjoy a free breakfast in the morning. I must say I'm almost a little bit sad that this bus ride will only last 17 hours.




January 29, 2012
Lima, Peru
17S 539555, 9427409

Lima, housing 9 million people, is a vast city. I suppose that's why the unfortunate events of today came about. I read about a church in Lima where you can check out the catacombs, and I thought it would be a cool place to visit so I dragged Jared out of bed and into the city. I had an address that I found online, and we got some basic directions via Google maps. So maybe I can blame Google. Because the place where Google sent us was nowhere near the plaza containing the church. We wound up in a shithole called Callao. I guess I really can't blame Google because there certainly was enough foreboding. The very first kid we asked for directions near our hotel said it was a dangerous place. The women we asked for directions in Callao told us it was dangerous. The police the taxi driver asked for directions told us it was dangerous. And as the taxi driver dropped us off where the road got bad and he couldn't drive any farther, he told us it was dangerous. I can't blame my instinct either. My instinct screamed at me not to walk down the street. I knew we wouldn't find the church there, and I mentioned this to Jared and he agreed; but we kept walking. When I saw the six men hanging out in the street I knew they were going to rob us, and I mentioned to jared that they seemed shady and he agreed; but we kept walking. I know it doesn't make sense, but the only explanation I can give is that we had become so jaded. Everywhere we had gone people had told us it was dangerous, and it never was. Every time we had walked through a rundown town, had passed shady looking characters, everything had turned out fine. And so we kept walking. When the first man approached us, he had his hand on something under his shirt, which looked like a pistol. The men approached Jared first, apparently not noticing my backpack. For me, it was fight or flight. In the next half second, a rapid succession of thoughts ran through my head. My first reaction was to fight. I wanted to get the men away from Jared. 'I can't leave him behind.' Then, 'No, they don't really have guns or they would have pulled them out by now. They're not going to hurt him; they just want the money. They are stronger than me and I am powerless against them. If I try to hurt them, they will hurt me.' Without being conscious that I had made the decision, I was running down the street, I imagine quickly, but I could feel nothing. I could hear a man's footsteps behind me. I saw a family, watching from the entryway of their home. "Ayudame, Ayudame!" I screamed. The family signed that I could enter the house. As I neared the doorway, the family stepped aside and the man grabbed my backpack, breaking the strap and ripping it off my back. I held the other end and furiously yanked it back away from him, then staggered into the house, saving my camera. I am surprised at the way I reacted. I did not freeze up like I thought I would in this situation, although I seemed to have no voice. My actions were deliberate but completed before i had time to think about them. My adrenaline took over for my thoughts and controlled my body.

Perhaps because he thought the police would be coming soon, or perhaps because there is some unwritten rule within the neighborhood that the hoodlums do not enter the houses of the locals; but the man left once I was inside. Jared came over within a minute, and I learned that the other five men had circled around him, taking his fannypack and everything from his pockets. He couldn't remember how it happened, but his right thumb was swollen and his knee hurting. After a moment I realized that I was still standing inside the house, as if it were a sanctuary.

I hope those bastards were disappointed when they realized all they got was about $5 each, a debit card that I've already canceled, and an iPod that they won't be able to use because it has a password. What really bothers me is the strange dynamic of the neighborhood. The family was willing to let me in their home but would not interfere in any other way. They stepped aside to allow the man to grab my backpack and didn't even try to help Jared (this includes the perfectly able man who lived there). In such a small neighborhood, I'm sure they personally know the crooks, and there must be some kind of agreement where the hoodlums will leave the townspeople alone as long as they don't interfere with the robbing of the tourists. This suspicion was confirmed when we went to get the police. When we were walking down the street with them, Jared saw the thieves running and pointed them out to the cops and we all took off running after them, but when they ran into a house the police refused to go in after them. They just took us to the station to fill out a report.

The whole day turned into a series of 'We should haves' and 'We shouldn't haves.' "I shouldn't have suggested that we go to the church." "I should have gotten better directions." "We shouldn't have gone down that street." "We should have run the other way when we saw them." "I shouldn't have given up my fannypack." I suppose we have to just let it go and let it serve as a lesson to us to heed the danger warnings of the locals and listen to our instincts and use our common sense while traveling. We are just lucky that we are both okay and that we didn't have our passports with us.

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