The Quest for Clean Clothes...

Guayaquil, Ecuador

February 8, 2007
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We left the beautiful, relaxing beach at Montanita on Wednesday and headed back on the bus to the hustle and bustle of Guayaquil, Ecuador’s largest city.

First, I want to take a few paragraphs to give the beach at Montanita some justice. The beach in front of the place we stayed stretches to the South for at least 10km, all of which you can walk during low tide. The water isn’t the turquoise blue you see in postcard pictures, but it is a green-blue color. The beach is pretty clean thanks to an education program and the locals seem to take a lot of pride in keeping the white sands clean.

We swam/body surfed in the lukewarm, almost too warm, water during the day, mostly during low tide. When the tide started to come in, the water belonged to the surfers, who headed into the water in mass, and we promptly exited the water—you are only asking to get hurt if you stay in the water with the surfers. After we got out of the water we would play a little Frisbee to dry-off, and then head to the patio where we would watch the surfers, drink 750ml Brahma (a local beer) for a $1.50 each, and wait for the most beautiful sunsets we have ever seen to date. We repeated this “exhausting” exercise for five straight days…

Our time at the beach accomplished its goal—time to decompress after many months of getting ready for our trip—we were so relaxed, we didn’t want to leave. However, we realized it was only our first week of the trip and we have many more great things (and beaches) to see along the way.

We headed back to Guayaquil with enough time to accomplish one thing—do laundry. We had a couple of other small things we needed to do in the city such as drop some stuff in the mail and buy a new USB memory stick since Marc “decided” to go swimming with the last one, but our main goal was to wash the stinky, sandy clothes from the beach.

Our Lonely Planet guide (last updated in 2003) said most places specialize in dry cleaning, not laundry, except for one. The one was very close to our hotel—perfect! We wrote the address down and scoped the whole thing out after our arrival on Wednesday evening. We found the location, but it was closed, and a revolving metal door was pulled down in front of the business blocking access. The address didn’t have any signage on the outside, so we figured we would just come back the following morning.

We set out on our laundry quest on Thursday morning, with bags of stinky clothes in hand. The nondescript building we found the night before is now a small office space with about 20 computers and a guard armed with what appeared to be an automatic Uzi, wearing a bullet-proof vest, standing in front. (Don’t panic, most businesses have an armed guard protecting them from the city hoodlums). We decided it would probably be best not to ask the guard about what happened to the lavanderia and returned to our hotel, bags of soiled clothes in hand. We figured we would find another lavanderia while completing some of our other tasks for the day. We did check with the concierge in the hotel to see if they could help us with our bags of reeking clothes. The concierge pointed us to the ridiculously expensive hotel service ($2.50 per t-shirt) and advised us that there isn’t anyone in the area that does just laundry. There has to be someplace, we said to each other.

We walked around the city for at least two hours sightseeing, looking at USB sticks, mailing things, and we never found a single laundry facility. Defeated, we returned to our hotel, where it was nice and cool, and stayed out of the city for rest of the day.

Not too much else to say about Guayaquil… Of course we know there will be other nondescript cities like Guayaquil (hopefully with laundry facilities). We just hope we get the sense in advance to get in and out as quickly as possible.

Next stop… Chile.

First Culinary Delight

Montanita

February 5, 2007

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For several days now we have been approached on the beach by Ecuadorian vendors on bike carts selling cebiche oestra, or oyster ceviche. Well, they aren’t really bikes, but more of a three wheeled cart, the front of the cart is used as a traveling oyster bar and the back of the cart is used to maneuver the bike along the beach. We were a little hesitant to give the “fresh” ceviche a try since the vendors peddle up-and-down the steaming, hot beach all day and there’s literally no ice or refrigeration on the carts. Plus, we weren’t really sure where their product came from; we figured some type of Ecuadorian oyster farm. Is there such a thing?

This morning, during a long walk on the beach we decided to explore the tide pools located on The Point to the right of our place, and that is where we saw the ceviche guys stocking up for the day. They were actually pulling the oysters right out of the water as we approached. I decided this was as fresh as it was going to get—we had to try it!

Marc isn’t a big fan of oysters, so the guy offered us the especial mixto—fish, shrimp, and oysters. I walked away briefly and apparently the friendly vendor proudly pulled a sinewy 24 inch octopus out of a five gallon bucket of saltwater and asked Marc if he would like it included in the mixto… Marc politely declined; no gracias.

To start the dish, he shucks the oysters by placing a rock on the ground and gives them a few good whacks with a metal mallet. After opening the two oysters and removing them from their shells he cuts them up into chunks and tosses them into a bowl about 7 inches in diameter. He adds the shrimp and dorado (a white fish) that has been soaking in lime juice from a couple grimy looking Tupperware bowls. Then, he squeezed the first lime into the bowl, and added all of the ingredients from his cart including cilantro, red onions, jalapenos, salt, diced tomatoes and a couple quick shots of oil. He adds a second lime before asking us if we want some Tapatio like hot-sauce for a little extra heat. Of course we do! He gave us one squirt, and we encouraged him to keep going. Then he asked us if we want roasted corn nuts—sure, give us the works!

We sat down on the closest rock in the tide-pool and shared the $3 bowl of delight as the guy stayed close and waited for his bowl and spoon to be returned. The blend of flavors was perfect, titillating all of the senses—sour, sweet, spicy and salty. We alternated bites, passing the spoon back and forth. Marc stuck with the fish and shrimp (he did try a couple pieces of oyster since they were hard to miss). After the majority of the seafood was gone, we still took turns slurping up the lime juice with all of its wonderful flavors. With the bowl empty, immediately craving more, we handed “our” bowl and spoon back to our ceviche chef. While he washed the bowl and spoon in what appeared to be a soapy solution on his cart we told him we might see him again tomorrow for another especial mixto! He suggested again that we try the octopus—we will see.

I look forward to more culinary experiences like this one on the trip. Unfortunately, this is the only one worth talking about to date.

Super Bowl Sunday at the Point...

Montanita, Ecuador

Super Bowl Sunday
February 4th, 2007
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After our move to The Point yesterday, we immediately scouted out a place to watch the Super Bowl. The place we found is actually connected to our new hostel, Casa del Sol, and has breathtaking views of the beach from the bar, where you can actually walk right into the ocean (see pic).

The owner of the bar is a burly guy from Philadelphia named Mike. He owns the bar with his Ecuadorian wife who is at least 15 years his junior. Mike is probably 6’ tall, weighing in at close to 225, which might have been muscle at some point in his life, back in the football playing days. Mike and his wife permanently relocated from Philadelphia to Ecuador in November after the loss of his father. At least this is what we gathered from our conversations with Mike.

We started the pre-game festivities by watching “Invincible” with Mike. He was really pumped up since the story is about a guy, played by Marky Mark, who tried out for the Philadelphia Eagles in an open tryout and made the team. Mike made it clear he is a die hard Philly fan since that is the way he was born. He didn’t really care who won the Super Bowl, as long as it was a good game.

We quickly slipped from the movie to the pre-game show which was all in Spanish. We had a few minutes of hysteria until the game came on and we determined it was in English. Others trickled into the bar, mostly Americans, but nobody really cared about the outcome. Everyone was just looking for something to do until it was time to surf again.

We had the standard football pool where everyone picked their squares. We weren’t big winners there, but we did enjoy watching the game. We have only been gone one week, but it was nice to have something familiar on a Sunday night. There is nothing more familiar than good old fashioned football, hot dogs, beer and potato chips.

Surfs Up and All is Groovy...

February 3rd, 2007

Montanita, Ecuador
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After two nights in the party environment within the village of Montanita, we decided to head to the North End of town, also known as The Point, in search of sleep. The music boomed well into the wee hours of the morning, causing us to stay up late and wake up late. Each morning we woke up and there were new tents, almost as if they had been breeding, just to the left of our place in an open area of sand. As we walked by the tents, towards the beach, the smell of strong weed permeated from the tents. I am positive we would have found at least a half a dozen sleeping bodies on the beach at 8a, if we were up that early. We gravitated towards our room each night a little after 11p where I wrote and Marc read. Two nights of this was enough.

We made the one mile trek, fully loaded with our packs, along the beach at low tide to The Point, a place that was supposedly discovered by a California surfer 25 years ago, and found a new place to stay, La Casa del Sol. The place costs more than our last place; however, how much are you willing to pay for sleep, air conditioning and an overall better environment?

The two places, the village and The Point, are as different as oil and water, one chaotic and crazy with signs that say, “drogas prohibidad” the other calm and peaceful with people here just to surf and enjoy the ocean. The people from The Point do go to party in the village, but when they are tired they can come back to the peaceful, calm Point for a nice evening of rest and relaxation. The main focus of the clientele is to catch the waves morning, noon, and night.

The Manager of the place we are staying, Greg, is an American from D.C. currently living part time in Ecuador and the other part of the time in Indonesia. Basically, he follows the surf, and when the surf is flat, as he calls it, he manages hotels and has other things to do such as varnish doors, fix the cleaning process, and build out a real kitchen with a chef that puts out the quality food his clientele is looking for. Greg appears to be in his mid-to-late 30s, about 6’1” and 165, with a shaved head, he is a lean, mean surfing machine. Greg’s passion for surfing, and the obsession expressed by others we met, makes us want to go out tomorrow morning and catch some waves. Who knows, maybe we will!

People are Strange

February 1st, 2007
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We finally got off of the bus in Montenita at about 5:45p from Guayaquil after the marathon bus ride. Marc tossed his nicely sealed emergency Ziploc bag of stomach bile to the side of the road in a pile of plastic bottles, bags and other garbage. It was extremely hot and he was simply over-heated. Our goal was to get off the bus and find a place to stay as quickly as possible and begin the recovery process with lots of water. The temperature is now about 103 and the humidity is at least 70%.

We got our packs on our back, I grabbed the rest of our stuff, and we walked across the street to the entrance of Montenita. I wasn’t able to take in everything on our first walk through town; I wanted to get Marc taken care of first. I figured we had a few days to explore. We were looking for a place called, La Casa Blanca, since the place we were hoping to stay was located behind La Casa Blanca. No, there were not any street addresses, but the directions in Lonely Planet claimed all places were off of the main street into the Village.

We got to the first cross street. A car was honking its horn behind us—I went right, Marc went left. I see the sign in the distance for La Casa Blanca on my side. When I turned back to look for Marc, I peered down the other side of the street. There was a banner that read, “People are Strange.” The banner didn’t have much significance at the time since we had more important things to worry about.

I screamed over the car horns and blaring Reggae music for Marc’s attention and we made our way to the place we wanted to stay; boasting immaculate rooms, terraces with hammocks for every room, and most importantly private baths. We were in luck; they had a room for us with a mood setting mosquito-net and everything. We dropped off our stuff and headed to get Marc some water and a little something to eat. It was at this time we were finally able to fully absorb the village.

The village is a cross between a Grateful Dead show, the summer in Pacific Beach, known as PB to the locals in San Diego, and a greatly scaled down French Quarter in New Orleans. So picture this, you have guys in dreadlocks with their standard Guatemalan print shorts, carrying their surfboards (this is an epic surf village), and they have their roadie (or beverage of choice) in their other hand. Most people are walking the street barefoot, or with flip flops. Street vendors are peddling jewelry, chicken on a stick, fruit smoothies, empanadas, grilled corn, your name written in Japanese, or whatever else they can sell to make a few bucks.

Every place along the main street is a bar, restaurant, and hostel all in one. There are only two side streets and the main street, which dead-ends into the beach. We are clearly some of the older people in this village; which was confirmed as soon as we received the flyer for the “Full Moon Beach Festival.” There is a big party every month to celebrate the full moon, which is on February 3rd, and we were lucky enough to arrive in time for this festival, which is an all night rave on the beach—right up our alley.

We sat at a table that is close to the main street, perfect for people watching. There were a lot of young adults who look like they just never went home. I’m sure this is a great place for parents to come find their missing children.

As we sat having dinner and watching the human traffic, a young, very tan, female performer in a tank top and skirt is doing backbends in the street, preparing for a show of what ended up being flaming baton twirling. Her friends stood beside her for support. When she was finished with her performance, she went table to table trying to collect money for the performance. At the same time, two stray dogs wandered into our restaurant and began humping and all attention was immediately diverted to the copulating canines… which were actually more entertaining than the street performer. Of course this will bring more orphaned dogs to the village in the coming months. At one point I turned to Marc and said, “This place is a total freak show, do we belong here?” Marc’s response was, “we live in San Francisco, baby, this is nothing.”

The younger crowd continued to do laps around the village—it only takes about five minutes. As the night grew on, the circling crowd got larger, as if they were all waiting for someone to tell them the cool place to go. It was almost as if they were playing musical chairs, but the pumping music (Reggae, Jack Johnson, Latino, Salsa, etc.) never stopped. We never saw a single bar completely packed. However, we did go to bed pretty early, 11p, after our long travel day. The music continued to thump late into the morning.

By the end of the evening, I understood the purpose of the banner “People are Strange,” and it was more than a tribute to Jim Morrison.

More to come in Montenita…