The Ecuador Diaries: Part 1

I know it's taken me a long time to have this written, but here it is, it's fullness and completion:

The trip down was relatively uneventful and probably the dullest part of the entire trip. After leaving by coach to Vancouver, where we would stay at a hotel and get the plane to Houston the next day. That night, the IHOP where we had dinner managed to screw up my order and I didn't get it until everyone else had left (worthless place).

The bed was softy and comfy that night.

The next day, we get and proceed through a headache inducing series of luggage hauling, bright sunlight and airport security, not good for inner peace. Landing in Houston, I officially agree with you Ben, it truly is one of the most horrible places on earth. Out the plane window, it's suburbia as far as the eye can see, and the airport terminal at George W. Bush International makes one feel like a hamster inside a steel box. The only notable event was a terrible error on my part for buying a danish from Starbucks, at which Wesley promptly got me to pose for and take a picture, my anti-corporate antics are now on parole, haha. As we fly down to Guayaquil, I can see masses of bright lights shining out of the land below, that we later figure out were the major cities in Central America, including one huge mass that we guessed to be Mexico City. Our first exposure to Ecuador, indeed of South America consisted of touching down at about 1 am local time. With humidity levels at at least 85%, the air was totally sweltering, even though it was the middle of the night. The other was a pair of drunks wandering around the airport lobby, who attempted to pick up a couple of the girls in our group, they were hilarious, speaking in broken english and slopping beer everywhere, but it set the realization that white people tend to singled out, wherever they may be. Driving through Guayaquil, Ecuador's largest city, at over 2 million people, I have come to understand that there are only 3 rules to South American driving, they are:

1) Driving as fast as you can between speed bumps
2) Road signs are for wimps
3) Why use the brake, when you can use the horn?

The taxi drivers were the worst, cutting in and out with bare inches between cars and going at about 90 kph, but it appears to be the norm, needless to say, the entire trip was filled with reckless, suicidal driving. Another note is that they all drive small, Euro-style cars, none of the hulking automotive monoliths like here in North America. There is also an unreal amount of garbage here, and I don't mean like a pile in the gutter, I mean ankle deep all across the sidewalk, it was incredible. We arrive at the hostel, weirdly enough, called the Hotel California, where we are briefed and shuffled off to bed.

The bed was hard that night, but somehow, more comfortable than the one in Canada.

The showers here, having almost no pressure, are basically holes in the wall that gush cold water out. But it's always so hot, it was always welcome to have a cold shower. We meet our guide for the trip. His name was Xaviar (pronouced Haviar) and he dressed more like a tourist than any of us did, with shirts that look like they'd been cut from tablecloths. Anyhow, we go through Guayaquil, which was a mix of old colonial buildings and modern skyscrapers. Statues are everywhere, mostly of Simon Bolivar and one huge one of the BVM overlooking the city. We climb up 444 steps to a little church overlooking the city and one of the main barrios of the city. Javiar, for whatever reason decided, after roasting up the steps, and spending relatively little time at the chapel, gets us to go back down the stairs, not stopping for anything, he does get better as the trip goes along, but we guessed he was just a bit scared about having to lead around 26 foreigners. Getting on the mini-buses again (lunch consisted a soup and a bunch of other things where we were dictated what we could and couldn't eat) we drive to the main bus terminal where we catch the bus that will take us out to the villages where we'll be staying. It took forever, and in the end, a little kid that no one knew told me to follow him and led me right to the bus. It is so HOT! Fortunately, there are cold drink venders on the buses, no doubt there to take advantage of the fact the buses are cooking. After nearly being killed by the bus driver's driving. We are on the road north up the coast. We got pulled over by the highway patrol at one point, apparently to make sure we, a group white people, hadn't comandeered a public bus for our own travelling needs. Anyhow, we get out to the hostel we'll be staying at for the student orientation, the only environmentally sustainable resort in the country, Hostel Alanduluz. It's much cooler here, away from the heat-gathering pavement. Everthing is very peaceful here, with the Pacific Ocean and the tropical jungle here, and watching the sunset turn red as it went over the ocean.

The bed's there were so soft...