I took a break since writing last in order to hang out more with my brother and start school. We started last Monday the 2nd of February and I now have a definite schedule to report. Mondays are my big days: Economics from 7:00-8:40AM, Spanish from 9:00-12:15, Italian at 12:30-1:30 and Global Ethics at 2:00-5:00. It is going to be mad busy, but I know I can do it. I only have Econ on Mondays and Wednesdays and Global Ethics is only one day out of the week.
Back to the story of our viaje. We got up somewhat early the next morning, not really being rested because our bug nets were only a way to keep them from biting us, and in no way a way to keep them out of our ears and faces. It was muggy and hot and the river smelled a little. Oh yeah, and this was the vividly green river that ran just out our door. But we got to see a land iguana, which definitely made Chelsea happy. But our hostess was nowhere to be seen and the gate was locked to where the main office was, so we left $10 in the room, tied a note to the key saying that the money was in the room, and threw it over the fence. We had to leave.
We were able to catch a bus that would take us to Santa Elena, a town where we were intending to stop to see the “Hugging Lovers.” This sight is an archaeological collection of various things, but the main attraction is the pair of 80,000 year-old skeletons discovered in a loving embrace. I’m not sure if it was the history of it or the fact that I am nothing but a fat SAP, but I had to see it.
When we got on the bus, we discovered that it was completely full. All the seats in the back were taken, as well as all the standing room, meaning that there was only room in the front of the bus before the partition. The assistant so kindly set up my very own princess cushion next to the driver and on top of that big bump in the bus where the engine is. Chelsea was told to sit in the windshield on the small lip where various knick-knacks appeared to have been collecting over the years. Oh the things that would make lawsuits in the United States.
My legs were right next to the chubby, dirty right hand of the bus driver, who was somewhere around 30-40 years old, sporting a bushy mustache but no beard, 200-250 pounds, and not in the slightest bit attractive. At first I thought he was just a nice old guy, interested in who this little American girls. He turned on the shitty salsa music that can be bought for less than a blank CD would cost in the States. Occasionally the assistant would tell him to dance, just so he could laugh at our reactions. It was like watching Jaba the Hut dance in an I-never-took-lessons kind of way. But, lest we forget, this was all while the man was driving and whilst Chelsea sat in the windshield and I on the engine box.
But then the guy started getting weird (although luckily not before I got a picture with him, which should be here on my blog somewhere). He just wanted to know my name, where I was from, and then the third question that ALWAYS follows those two requests for information, “tienes novio?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” I really don’t mean to be harsh, I know that you can find the beautiful in everyone, no matter how much their outer-shell does not conform to the common concept of beauty, but I must say that I really do not understand where men like this come from. I don’t know how he pictured the flirting playing out. Why would two pretty (if I do say so myself) young American girls with everything going for them go for a middle-age, rotund, dirty bus driver who can't even dance? I know, it sounds harsh, but I refuse to hold it in until I can get some kind of an answer.
So for the full hour and a half trip to Santa Elena, I was subjected to loud crappy salsa music and bad dancing, plus the advances of a man I found slightly revolting. He even went so far as to say that he could drop off all the people in the bus and Chelsea, the assistant, he and I could continue all the way to Peru and then tell me that I couldn’t leave in June until he and I had gotten married. Only after we were married could I go home. He touched me on the leg and persistently tried to catch my fancy by doing the Jaba the Hut jiggle. Eventually I pretended to be asleep to avoid said dancing spells and having to talk to him (which brought the unpleasant experience of his breath in my face).
Santa Elena could not come soon enough for me. I was ready to get out of there! We were dropped at a stop, not having any idea of where we were or how to get to where we were going. We walked in the intense heat and sun for a while before wisely deciding to get a Coke and look for directions on how we should get to where we were going. As we were walking past what looked like a little old carpenter’s shop, where the little old carpenter was sitting, I thought the 70-80 year old man was so cute! He was missing most of his teeth and the wrinkles on his face told me that he had been through a lot, but smiled the whole time. So I smiled back, which turned out to be a mistake. We walked away from catcalls.
Once we did find where we were going, we were severely disappointed to find that, like most museums around Ecuador, it was closed that day, seeing as how it was a Monday and Mondays are the generally accepted staff’s-day-off day. I was so upset I nearly cried, so instead we walked the long walk to the bus station, where we caught a bus to Guayaquil.
As we got into Guayaquil, which is, by the way, the big port town on the southern coast of Ecuador, I thought things were ugly and dry and I was not looking forward to the stay we would have in the city. Once we got to the bus station, we were given a small taste of the city that we were about to see. The station was nicer than any we had ever been in! They had air-conditioning and stores. It was almost like a mall. Very clean and well-kept.
Our taxi ride into the city to a hotel called Hotel Sanders showed us a little more of the city. There were people everywhere. It seemed that the people of Guayaquil enjoyed being out on the streets far more than the people of Quito do. Our hotel appeared very fancy down at the desk, but the price was good and the rooms were very simple. We dropped our stuff, changed into some more comfortable clothing (Guayaquil seems to be just one big pot of steaming people), and went out to take a look at the city. It was so big! And so clean! But there was a very immediate difference from being in Quito (other than the blazing, muggy heat). The catcalls were almost unbearable. At one point during our stay, we accidentally walked through a group of 6-8 men, who proceeded to make kissing noises in our ears and say the only English words they knew- “hey” and “sexy.”
The beds were so comfortable and we were able to do laundry, although as I was washing my clothes in the sink I looked up and realized that there was a sign just to the left of the mirror asking guests to please not do their laundry in the sink! We did it anyway, and what a good thing we did. We were getting pretty smelly.
We drank coffee, saw parks, held hands with statues, and even got to be in some wedding photos! Okay, so we were background and not supposed to be there, but we’re still little blobs in pictures that two people are going to keep for the rest of their lives.
There was one park in the middle of the city that was known for its land iguanas. For some reason, it was their haven in the middle of the city and there were hundreds of them! We thought there were only twenty or so, as we could only see some here and there on the ground, but then we looked up at the trees and realized that they were lounging in the sun on nearly every branch and in any crevice of the trees! We even got to see two males fighting over the territory of one tree and the female that was basking. Those females. The smaller of the males was actually way more aggressive, probably because he was younger and had more spunk. So he would continually attack the other, biting at his neck and staying in that position as long as possible. But the older iguana never lost it! He nearly fell out of the tree several times, but he never gave up or backed down. I was impressed and rooted him on, all the while covering my head for fear he would fall on it.
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