ON THE WAY AGAIN

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ON THE WAY AGAIN

Ecuador, Quito to Puerto Lopez



I wanted to get out of the city and do some more diving.



I made plans to travel by bus to Puerto Lopez, below Quito on the coast of Ecuador. Sometimes called “The poor man’s Galapagos.” In the eleventh hour, I decided on a hotel…Alcazaba.

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I decided to leave plenty early because finding your way around a bus station can be challenging. My bus was at 10:10 a.m. and it was an hour to the bus station (Carlos, the concierge at my hotel, said to plan an hour) so I decided to be up at 6 a.m. and out of the hotel by 7. Instead, I overslept and woke up at 6:49. I hustled and was out of my room by 7:06. After I paid my bill I decided to eat breakfast since it was a ten hour bus ride to Puerto Lopez, and rest stops would be limited.



The traffic in the city was horrendous. It looked like week day mornings in Seattle, but once we were out of the city the traffic was lighter and we made good time.

Wow! I was surprised when I saw the bus station. It looked like an airport. I didn’t even know which entrance to go to. My habit is to ask the first person I see, in this case a woman. She pointed me in the right direction. Once I was inside I asked a businessman where to buy tickets. He said he would show me; it was up a ramp. I started to push my large bag up the ramp and the man came back down and pushed the smaller one. I was concerned about him being late for work but he said he still had plenty of time. Few people in Ecuador speak English, so I was very lucky to have him help me. He inquired about the bus line, Carlos Aray, and was directed to the last window. No one was there but as we turned away a ticket seller arrived and motioned us back. Then my bus terminal angel left for work and I proceeded to buy my ticket. I pointed at my bags and said I needed to check two. The man asked for the money and I handed him a twenty. He indicated it wasn’t enough, handed me the ticket and I read $28. I immediately was upset. I informed him the computer had quoted ten dollars. Other people got involved…turned out he thought I was with someone, and had sold me two tickets. Then we had to unravel the money. I had given him forty dollars, he gave me back twenty, then an additional handful of change. He turned away abruptly and went off to find a five. What a scramble.



I waited around to ask him where I was to go next. People kept coming to the window in front of me, so finally I decided to go to the bathroom, then find my own way. I saw a line leading to a man punching tickets. I asked him where the buses were and he indicated I get in line. My turn came and he took my ticket. I asked him again, “Where is the bus?” He pointed up a short ramp and to the left and said “ventay”. Was that 12 or 20? Oh, yes…like French, it was 20. But the ticket said 38. Finally full of uncertainty I asked a young boy and he said the bus number was 38, but the stall for the bus was 20.



I checked the time on my Kindle. It was only 9:15 and the bus leaves at 10:10 a.m. I had plenty of time so I sat down to watch people and wait and read my novel. It seemed like only minutes passed and the bus arrived. I checked my luggage and got on the bus. A woman flagged me down immediately, glanced at my ticket and indicated the seat beside her. She had a two year old…the cutest little boy. I was a bit concerned, but he was very well behaved. I did feel sorry for her because she had to hold him on her lap and it was rather like having to hold a wriggling fish. He was awfully cute. There were a lot of children on the bus, but it was not too noisy. The seats were upholstered, clean and comfy. We left right on time.



About one o’clock the bus stopped. I looked up and saw an outdoor covered restaurant. Remembering previous bus trips, I had mixed feelings, so just sat until everyone else was off the bus. I was afraid I might not see the bus loading, or not know which bus I was on. As I stepped down I was grateful to see the big number 38 painted on the side near the door. I wouldn’t make a mistake and get on the wrong bus. I made my way to the bathroom, paid my fifteen cents (American currency here) and used the facilities. I was happy there were blow dryers for your hands.



I got in the line at the cafeteria. Since I could not read the menu I just pointed at the food I wanted. Just as my turn came the woman behind the counter dumped a huge pot of fried rice in one of the serving platters. The server used a paddle and gave me a serving I would have used for my entire family. I ate what I could, knowing it would be a long ride. It was delicious as was the large portion of chicken I chose to go with it.



Around five o’clock some seats opened up and the woman and her son moved to other seats behind me. I half watched two Brad Pitt movies in Spanish and dozed. As it got darker, I began to worry about missing my stop, so I asked the ticket taker to let me know when we reached Puerto Lopez. Twice. And in fact, he did announce it.



I got off the bus in a semi-deserted outdoor station. Everything was closed, and suddenly I wondered how I was going to get to my hostel. Two young men approached me, but another man and his ten year old, cheerful and outgoing son took me in tow. The man assured me that he would get me a taxi and it would cost a dollar. It took a while so I sat. There was another older woman on the bench beside me and we talked. I did not understand all she said, nor did I know we were going to share a cab. But when the cab came the taxi driver put her enormous cardboard box in the trunk. It hung out both sides. My luggage went in the front seat, no mean feat getting it loaded. We both got in the back seat and the woman continued to ply me with questions, telling me about the big house her children bought for her. She asked about my husband, my children, if I was traveling alone? It was fun. We laughed a lot because we could not speak each other’s language. But we made do.



The managers of the hostel were just great. We man-handled my big bags upstairs. When I shut the door to my room, I was so ready for bed. I set my alarm for breakfast and fell asleep instantly.

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Photos

Departure: Bus Station in Quito
The taxi driver is the man in the yellow shirt, with my bag. There were doors straight ahead and also to the right. The place was huge.

Arrival: Puerto Lopez Bus Station
Waiting area. Imagine this and total blackness outside. Only three or four people here, and no telephone or security. Nothing open.

Comments

[Michael Steven]

I Am Enjoying Your Travels And Adventures.
I have been reading your blog and following you as you have gone from country to country having magnificent adventures. I enjoy your writing style and story telling abilities. After each entry I look forward to the next one. Thank you for taking the time to share your travels.