Our bus from Puerto Lopez, which hurtled over the coastal mountains at about 90 mph through some startlingly beautiful scenery (we arrived on the coast via Santa Elena, left through Jipyjapy or something), dropped us at the Guayaquil terminal terrestre in the early afternoon. We stowed our bags, bought a later ticket to Cuenca, and adventured into the city.
Guayaquil´s Iguanas
We´d been told by every Ecuadorian we´d met thus far to watch out for crime in Guayaquil, the nation´s economic capital. Heidi even went so far as to (in her incredibly bossy manner) stop us in the street in Puerto Lopez, leave us gaping there as she took an important phone call for 10 minutes, force us to walk 3 blocks with her, and then give us the name and phone number of a secure taxi in Guayaquil. While it may have just been an elaborate plan to get us to patronize her friend´s company, we´d been given some serious advice to be vigilant and wary in the city, and not to stay out after dark. Given the degree to which people hyped up the danger, Scott and I were all but trembling and punching strangers (ooh, foreshadowing) as we arrived downtown.
I´m sure other travelers will have lots to say about Guayaquil, but all we really did was go to the plaza famous for having free-roaming iguanas, walk the newly-renovated malecon (waterfront) and see a little boy, in a giant bubble, in a fountain, and eat desserts. The iguanas were really neat; I even tried to pick one up, which it didn´t really mind at all, surprisingly. Not sure what the history is there, but it´s an odd place.
On our way back to the ter
minal by bus (very well-organized bus system, touche), I was spacing out while sitting facing forward, and Scott was standing facing the window. All of a sudden, he started smiling, laughing, and waving at someone out the window. I was absolutely shocked (and a little jealous) - we´d been in the city all of 4 hours and Scott had already made friends?! As it turns out, the tour bus full of our French whale-watching compatriots from Puerto Lopez had randomly pulled up alongside our city bus. What are the chances? Pretty good; like I said, we estimate that there´s a 60% chance you´ll see any group of tourists again in another city.
minal by bus (very well-organized bus system, touche), I was spacing out while sitting facing forward, and Scott was standing facing the window. All of a sudden, he started smiling, laughing, and waving at someone out the window. I was absolutely shocked (and a little jealous) - we´d been in the city all of 4 hours and Scott had already made friends?! As it turns out, the tour bus full of our French whale-watching compatriots from Puerto Lopez had randomly pulled up alongside our city bus. What are the chances? Pretty good; like I said, we estimate that there´s a 60% chance you´ll see any group of tourists again in another city.
Cuenca
Cuenca is described as having ¨unmatched charm,¨ although the first thing we encountered at 11pm in the terminal terrestre was a guard holding a pistol at the ready in his hand. I watched him fingering it gingerly as I boldly asked him where to find the taxis. He must´ve thought I was an idiot; there were about 30 taxis idling right behind him. We caught our taxi amidst a formidable military unit, some of whom tested their ¨hello-how-are-you¨ on the fresh gringos.
Usually, upon arrival to a c
ity, we pick the cheapest hostel out of our Lonely Planet guide, get taken there by taxi (or bus, if it´s early and uncomplicated enough), then poke our heads into a few other hostels before settling on one. We´re usually ravenous at this point, so we drop our packs aggressively, then strike out in a quest for nourishment. Cuenca was no different. We settled in, then immediately went in search of food. Of course, before finding food, we ran into the Germans from Montañitas and Puerto Lopez, loafing around on a nearby streetcorner. Stephan, Peter, and Sad Boy (not their real names, but definitely what I called them) would play a ubiquitous role in our time in Cuenca.
ity, we pick the cheapest hostel out of our Lonely Planet guide, get taken there by taxi (or bus, if it´s early and uncomplicated enough), then poke our heads into a few other hostels before settling on one. We´re usually ravenous at this point, so we drop our packs aggressively, then strike out in a quest for nourishment. Cuenca was no different. We settled in, then immediately went in search of food. Of course, before finding food, we ran into the Germans from Montañitas and Puerto Lopez, loafing around on a nearby streetcorner. Stephan, Peter, and Sad Boy (not their real names, but definitely what I called them) would play a ubiquitous role in our time in Cuenca.
In the morning, at the sugge
stion of the Germans, we switched hostels to what will probably be the best hostel we stay in this entire journey. It was a converted colonial house, with fully equipped kitchen, free computer, big-screen TV with DirectTV (¨En (city you are in) y en todo del Ecuador!¨), hot showers, rooftop lounge, and lots of interesting travelers, including an ostentatious British couple who kept exclaiming to the friend with whom they were video chatting ¨look how FAT we´ve gotten! Seriously, we´re never going to be able to do the Inca Trail!¨ and a slightly depressing, half-Ecuadorian, half-Australian girl who couldn´t speak Spanish but who we (for whatever reason) befriended.
stion of the Germans, we switched hostels to what will probably be the best hostel we stay in this entire journey. It was a converted colonial house, with fully equipped kitchen, free computer, big-screen TV with DirectTV (¨En (city you are in) y en todo del Ecuador!¨), hot showers, rooftop lounge, and lots of interesting travelers, including an ostentatious British couple who kept exclaiming to the friend with whom they were video chatting ¨look how FAT we´ve gotten! Seriously, we´re never going to be able to do the Inca Trail!¨ and a slightly depressing, half-Ecuadorian, half-Australian girl who couldn´t speak Spanish but who we (for whatever reason) befriended.
We spent our second day in Cuenca about 2 hours (Mr. Planet said one...) ourside of Cuenca at the Ingapirca ruins, the only Incan ruins in Ecuador. We arrived at the platform for the 9am direct bus at 8:59am, and of course it was the only time any bus has ever left on time in this country, so we ended up taking quite the circuitous route to the ruins. It was for the best, however, because on our detour Scott got to eat a heart. (When he asked what type of animal the heart came from, the waiter thought for a moment, then responded confidently, ¨torro.¨ Eek!)
The ruins were actually a 1970 reconstruction of the original ruins, and the first time I asked the ticket lady, she told me tickets cost $6. For Ecuadorian students, however, the price was only $1. I thought it a long shot when I approached the window a second time, three minutes later, and said (in my slyest, most insider-esque voice): ¨Dos estudiantes extrañjeros, por favor...¨ To my surprise, she let us in for a total of $5. And we got a guide!
The best part of the ruins was the large Ecuadorian family accompanied by their awkward Danish visitors, who had apparently hosted the daughter in Denmark. I was strongly reminded of Scott and my attempts at halting Spanish with Santi (our foreign exchange student)´s family, who we visited in Denia last summer. The other exciting highlight was the Inca Cara, which was a completely natural rock cliff that perfectly resembled a proud Incan face!
We arrived back in Cuenca that evening just in time for the Cuenca vs. Emele (Guayaquil) club soccer match, since it would be inconceivable to come to South America and not watch one. A man we´d met in Puerto Lopez (and who given us his number in case of emergency - these Ecuadorians are so nice), and who lived in Cuenca, had given us a bit of background about the team, which is supposed to be quite good this year.
Not being of the persuasion to show up at a sporting event unprepared, I bought a Cuenca jersey (which advertises Pilsener beer more than it does Cuenca) on the way in, which brought lots of attention from the loyal Cuencan fans. It was a great game - low stands put us almost on the field, fans set off ground-level fireworks throughout, our German friends were there, and Cuenca won, 2-0. It was some of the fastest 90 minutes I´ve ever watched in sports.
Later, we reconnected with the German band, as well as two Canadians and a Frenchman they'd picked up somewhere. Sitting down by the river, we were joined by a 16-year-old Ecuadorian boy, who´d just been dumped. He didn´t speak English (the rest spoke little Spanish), was texting frenetically on his phone, was silent except when he was interrupting, but nonetheless spent the next few hours glued to our group.
This, of course, came in handy when, an hour or so later, walking across the bridge with the Canadians, an wiry Ecuadorian boy, our of nowhere, turned and punched the Canadian boy directly in the face! Our Ecuadorian Sad Boy showed us to the ER.
Scott had gone home by then, but the night didn´t stop. I took the group to a mojito bar, where (since I´d been there the night before) the bartenders gave us a special deal on mojitos. An impromptu salsa dancing lesson with some locals (who turned out not to know how to salsa dance) ensued. We finally left the bar at 4am, at which point I was shamed into going with the few remaining travelers to another bar (I was told I wouldn´t be representing America well if I went to sleep at 4am...), where, at the mention of beer pong, tables, ping pong balls, cups, and beer were provided. I taught everyone the rules, and afterwards we played flip cup. I never thought I´d be the one to import American college beer-drinking games to Ecuador...
I finally made it to bed at 7:30am, after watching the sun rise over the river, but it meant the rest of our stay in Cuenca was a haze of sleepiness (although we did manage to check out the Museo de Banco Central, with a shrunken head display and aviary, and the ¨Panama¨ Hat Museum - quotes because the so-called Panama hat was actually born in Monte Cristi, Ecuador). A day later, we left for the Parque Nacional Cajas, and what was to be some of the best camping of our lives...
We arrived back in Cuenca that evening just in time for the Cuenca vs. Emele (Guayaquil) club soccer match, since it would be inconceivable to come to South America and not watch one. A man we´d met in Puerto Lopez (and who given us his number in case of emergency - these Ecuadorians are so nice), and who lived in Cuenca, had given us a bit of background about the team, which is supposed to be quite good this year.
Not being of the persuasion to show up at a sporting event unprepared, I bought a Cuenca jersey (which advertises Pilsener beer more than it does Cuenca) on the way in, which brought lots of attention from the loyal Cuencan fans. It was a great game - low stands put us almost on the field, fans set off ground-level fireworks throughout, our German friends were there, and Cuenca won, 2-0. It was some of the fastest 90 minutes I´ve ever watched in sports.
Later, we reconnected with the German band, as well as two Canadians and a Frenchman they'd picked up somewhere. Sitting down by the river, we were joined by a 16-year-old Ecuadorian boy, who´d just been dumped. He didn´t speak English (the rest spoke little Spanish), was texting frenetically on his phone, was silent except when he was interrupting, but nonetheless spent the next few hours glued to our group.
This, of course, came in handy when, an hour or so later, walking across the bridge with the Canadians, an wiry Ecuadorian boy, our of nowhere, turned and punched the Canadian boy directly in the face! Our Ecuadorian Sad Boy showed us to the ER.
Scott had gone home by then, but the night didn´t stop. I took the group to a mojito bar, where (since I´d been there the night before) the bartenders gave us a special deal on mojitos. An impromptu salsa dancing lesson with some locals (who turned out not to know how to salsa dance) ensued. We finally left the bar at 4am, at which point I was shamed into going with the few remaining travelers to another bar (I was told I wouldn´t be representing America well if I went to sleep at 4am...), where, at the mention of beer pong, tables, ping pong balls, cups, and beer were provided. I taught everyone the rules, and afterwards we played flip cup. I never thought I´d be the one to import American college beer-drinking games to Ecuador...
I finally made it to bed at 7:30am, after watching the sun rise over the river, but it meant the rest of our stay in Cuenca was a haze of sleepiness (although we did manage to check out the Museo de Banco Central, with a shrunken head display and aviary, and the ¨Panama¨ Hat Museum - quotes because the so-called Panama hat was actually born in Monte Cristi, Ecuador). A day later, we left for the Parque Nacional Cajas, and what was to be some of the best camping of our lives...
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