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Published: November 25th 2006
Its 3pm when the bus drops us off in Canoa. We have been on the road since 8am and the journey from Atacames involved 2 transfers. Traveling from place to place has been one of the most enjoyable parts of the trip so far. Seven hours of time on a bus can easily be occupied. As well as the usual selection of locals making their living selling goods to commuters, it is also fun to watch the variety of different people going about their everyday lives, as we move through different villages and towns. The presidential elections in Ecuador take place on Sunday 26th November. Because of this, every house, shed, fence, wall and bus stop has been painted in the colours of its owners favoured candidate. There are also posters and flyers everywhere, which make journeys very colourfull. Cynthia, numero 6, gets my vote. I wouldnt have a clue about her policys, but she is definately a bit of a fox. According to all the graffiti currently decorating the country, most of Ecuador seems to agree.
When we leave a place there is always excitement about what the new destination will bring. Sometimes there is even apprehension about the decision to leave being right. Having the choice to be able to throw everything in a bag and leave to start a new adventure somewhere else, is definately going to be hard to give up when i have to return home. Arriving in a town and not knowing where i am going to be sleeping that night is also something i have now learnt to enjoy.
From the bus stop we can see the beach, so begin walking, boards in tow, in that direction. I have now attatched the shoulder strap from Petes board bag to the front of mine (Where the handle came off) and am now able to pull my boards along with both hands free. The tables have now turned, and it is me who strides off infront of Pete. I am feeling too smug to look back, but i know Pete is admiring my new method, wishing it was infact him who had come up with the idea first. As we approach the beach a group of teenagers point in the direction of a building, shouting ¨Bamboo, Bamboo, Hotel Bamboo.¨We turn down a side street and make our way to hotel Bamboo. It seems as good a place as any, and it obviously comes highly recommended by the locals. We walk through the door, not knowing that this would become our home for the next two weeks.
There is a wide variety of accomodation on offer. Private double, double en suite, private cabina and dorms. We opt to stay in a 6 person dorm for $5 a night. the rest of the hotel consists of a lobby area with sofas, coffee table, book exchange and ping pong table. Outside there is a beach bar/restaurant, pool table, hammocks and a roof terrace with sun loungers and a swing. The surf is small and there is a strong onshore wind, but i dump my bag on a bunk and don my boardies faster than Clark Kent in a phone booth and head across the golden sand with my board under my arm.
There is just about enough on offer from the waves to call it surfing, but as soon as i make my first duck dive, i immediately feel cleansed as the wave washes over me and i surface on the other side. Pete soon joins me after completing his routine of stretches and squatts like Mr Motivator on the beach, and we both enjoy a late afternoon surf in the sun. There are two other people out. A bodyboarder called Cederic, Who is French (Not a great combination to base a first impression on?) and an Aussie called Simon. Both myself and Pete chat to Simon, who is from Sydney and has been traveling in europe for the last 6 months. He is staying a couple of towns down the coast doing voluntary work at a school. He informs us he will be coming back to Canoa at the weekend, so we arrange to meet up for a beer if we are still around.
That night we enjoy a meal at bamboo. There are no banks or cash machines in Canoa, the hotel doesnt accept cards and both myself and Pete spent the last of our cash on the journey from Atacames. The only thing we can do is open a tab untill we have time to collect some cash in a few days time. We order some food and sit at a table to watch the sun go down, enjoying the feeling of sand between our toes.
Bamboo is a busy place. Although there are a couple of other venues to stay at in town, Bamboo seems to be the popular choice. after dark all the locals stop by to play pool and talk to the tourists who are keen to practice their Spanish. I soon realise that not only is my Spanish extreamly poor, but for the first time i feel like a complete outsider. The majority of people staying at bamboo speak good spanish, or have been to spanish school to learn. The reason they are traveling in South America is so they can improve. When i speak to them in english, sometimes i get the feeling i am forcing them to talk in a language they dont want to use.
Pete is in his element, and is enjoying sharing a laugh and a joke with the locals. I stand and listen, becoming more and more impressed with Petes Spanish vocabulary as the conversations flow. Pete translates important words to me so i understand what is going on, but i become more frustrated that i cant offer my oppinion on any of the topics being discussed. The feeling of being completely dependant on Pete makes me feel like a burden and occasionally he enjoys reminding me of the fact by setting me up with the locals. His favourite trick is either to get me to use a verb using the female infinitive, emplying that i am a girl, or to tell people at any given opportunity that i have a boyfriend waiting for me back home. I now know when this is happening, but still dont have the vocabulary in my arsenal to construct a whitty quip in my defence. I start to think that maybe my summer could have been better spent at Spanish school rather than surfing at Croyde. I quickly get that thought out of my head. Some of these people might be able to talk in a sexy language, but they sure cant surf??
As the evening draws on, myself and Pete end up sat at the bar talking to Ariol. Ariol lives in Canoa, but is originally from Paraguay. He makes a living creating and selling jewelry and hustling as much money as he can from the constant flow of travellers passing through. He dresses exactly as you would expect. He models a large selection of his jewelry, wears baggy tie dye clothes and a wooly rasta hat. When he talks he comands attention with dramatic hand gestures and mime, making him an interesting person to spend time with. As he talks to Pete i can understand the majority of what is being said, because he is so animated and talks very clearly. He is also very patient and helps me learn as much as he can. i think to myself that after a couple of days in his company my Spanish is bound to improve.
Ariols grand finallae to the evening is to pull out one of his many different circus tricks (Over the course of our stay he would treat us to his full repertoir), which is a devil stick. He sets the ends on fire and starts to spin the flaming stick inches from the faces of myself and Pete. he launches the stick up in the air, making it spin around before he catches it, each time showering both of us in parrafin as we slowly step back to what feels like a safe distance. After the fire display i am looking forward to my bunk and head up stairs, oblivious to the fact that i am about to become dinner to the most blood thirsty mosquitos in South America.
I am woken at 3am by the most intense desire to scratch. My feet and ankles have been chewed to pieces and as i sit under my mosquito net clawing chunks out of my own feet, wondering how the hell the little bastards have managed to get through? I close my eyes and try to sleep, but the urge to scratch is too strong. I get up and head to the shower, where i sit with my feet under cold water for half an hour. The cold eventually soothes the pain i have caused by scratching and it takes away the itching enough for me to be able to get back to sleep.
I spend the next few days trying not to scratch my feet. Although the surf isnt great, i spend as much time as i can in the water. The cold soothes my bites and i know it is a safe haven where i wont get bitten further. When i am on land i become an expert at finding new ways to scratch my itching feet. Bottle tops, velcro, doormats, sand and the edge of curbs are all utilised at some point. On a couple of occasions the itching is so bad, i take a layer of skin off my feet from the friction of scratching. Surfing twice a day soon causes sea ulcers to appear, which i just know are going to become a problem!!!
We find that the only way to combat the mosquitos is to follow a simple 3 step plan. Step 1 is to use repellant, but only in the form of a lotion, not a spray, and preferably contaning lavender or eucalyptus (By the end of our stay in Canoa we will have gone through 5 bottles of repellant). Step 2 is to make sure as soon as the sun starts to go down, you are already smothered in lotion from head to toe. The third and final step is to leave no area of flesh unnecesarily exposed. Although we are slap bang on the equator, the first few nights after i was bitten were spent in socks, jeans, jumper and a beanie hat. Those mosquitos were not getting anymore of my blood thank you very much!!
Once you have been in a place for a couple of days, you start to fall into a routine. Our routine soon became, have breakfast, surf. Have lunch, surf. Chill out, read, try to learn some spanish, then surf. After leaving the water at sunset, it was a quick run up the beach, shower in insect repellant before settling at the bar for happy hour (I know, its a hard life?). From 5 - 6.30 you could get 2 cocktails for 50p each. All the locals would be there and we would play pool and chat till it was time to get some food. Once my feet stopped itching, Canoa quickly started to become my favourite place on the trip so far. I could feel my Spanish starting to improve, a New Zealand guy had taught us how to play backgammon (meaning i no longer had to get my arse spanked at chess), and we got freindly with a Dutch couple who had travel scrabble. We asked if we could have a game? They asked if they were allowed to use Dutch words, to which we both laughed and then embarrasingly for me, i still managed to come last, despite two of the players using their second language (I am sure you can tell from this blog that without a spell check i am lost). It will come as no surprise that Pete was the champion. There were a few questions asked about some of his words, but without a dictionary to confirm our suspicions, Pete assured us that when he used to play with his grand parents, they were widely accepted. Who can argue with that??
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Davy Ellis
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Travel Games
I have travel Guess Who. You should have taken it. You could have used it to make new friends and you would now know the spanish for speccy, ginger with big lips!