Are You Up for Montañita?

Thursday, March 6

This morning my companions, Brian and Aysha, helped me carry my luggage to a dusty spot in the road which was the bus stop. They bid me farewell as I boarded the $0.25 bus to Bahia. From there, I transferred to a bus bound for Jipijapa, and then to a third bus toward Puerto Lopez. The journey took all day.

As I waited aboard a bus at one of the many stations, I made friends with the large family across the aisle. A grandma was shepherding all eight grandchildren to their parents in Guayaquil; the kids spread out across her lap and the seats in front and back. She literally had her hands full.

When it was snack time, Grandma pulled out a two-liter bottle of coke and poured me a cup. I accepted, not wanting to offend her. The children all watched me intently as I sipped the soda. Were they waiting for me to hurry up and finish, or was I supposed to take one sip and pass along the cup? I had no idea what the social custom might be. I drank half the soda, then passed the cup back to the matriarch with a smile. She nodded and smiled back, filled the cup, and passed it to the children who all took turns sipping the soda. Whew, situation survived.

Then, one of the younger girls tugged on Grandma’s shirt. She needed to use the restroom. “That’s a good idea,” I said to no one in particular. “I think I’ll visit the bathroom too.”

“Perfect!” said Grandma. “Here, you can go with this lady,” she told the girl. Suddenly, I was in charge of a five-year-old in a bustling Ecuadorian bus station. I led the girl to the bathroom and aimed her toward a stall, praying she could take care of herself. Then I rushed to the bathroom, hoping she wouldn’t wander off. When I got back to the sink, there she was, patiently waiting for a boost so she could wash her hands. I helped her soap and rinse her hands, and brought her back to the bus, where her Grandma offered me a cookie for my help. I was just thankful we both made it back to the bus alive.

The bus dropped me and my bags on a sunny, dusty street corner in Puerto López. Half an hour later, I was rescued by Barbara, my friend from ultimate frisbee in Seattle. Although we had been only acquaintances in high school, we ran to greet each other with a hug. It's awesome to see someone you know when you're so far from home!

Barbara helped me get my bags to a four-room "hostel" which was actually the house of two Argentine dive instructors, a couple of her friends. She introduced me to all her the turtle volunteers and showed me around the volunteers’ house, which I would soon name Casa Tortuga. It was wonderful to feel like I had a community, a home, and a friend.

“We’re going to Montañita tonight,” Barbara said. “Are you up for it?”

Sure, I thought, why not? Another coastal town would be nice.

It wasn’t until I got to Montañita that I realized why a person might not be “up for it.” Montañita is the Panama City Beach of Ecuador, the sleepy town which turns into a mosh pit of drunken, partying tourists every night. My group flitted from club to bar to club, taking advantage of open bars and ladies’ nights and flirtatious Latino men. Someone discovered a body artist with a free face-painting booth, and I ended up with a glittery rose garden on my face.

Face paint from a night in Montañita.

We finally left for home at 4:30am. I showered the paint off my face and hit my new mosquito-netted bed, exhausted, just as the first light of dawn appeared. I don’t think I’ll ever be “up for Montañita” again!

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Spontaneity

Tuesday, March 4

Spontaneity: noun: the state of occurring as a result of a sudden inner impulse or inclination and without premeditation.

This morning the dutiful volunteers all headed back to their hard manual labor at Lisan Yacu Station. Last night I debated – should I ask to join them as a pseudo-volunteer for another week, or bide my time in Tena, or head on to some new adventure?

Though I would have loved to see Lisan Yacu, I had not received an invitation to join the workers, and I didn’t want to intrude. I also knew that I would be out of internet contact in the jungle, and I wouldn’t be able to respond to any new information about my Galapagos visa situation. (I was hoping to be on the Islands four days ago, on March 1, but these paperwork processes often take longer than expected in Ecuador. I’m glad I took the chance to explore the Amazon and didn’t want around in Quito for the last week.)

When I woke up, I decided my time in Tena had come to a close. With that decision I packed my suitcase and headed downhill to the bus station. The place was hopping after Carnaval Weekend, and the man at the booth regretfully informed me that there were no more tickets on the bus to Quito.

Then he relented. “Are you traveling alone?” he asked. I said, “Yes,” and he offered me one of the non-ticketed seats on the bench behind the driver. I accepted happily – a forward-facing view out the windshield would help me avoid feeling carsick on the winding, mountainous road. Sometimes traveling alone comes in handy.

I had a couple hours to kill with my heavy backpack on, so I grabbed a brunch almuerzoand contemplated getting my haircut as a souvenir. I would have an Amazon haircut right now if I hadn’t run out of time!

The ride was wonderful. I sat up front and made fast friends with my neighbor, María Belén, a 21-year-old girl with two daughters. She shared my sense of humor and had an innate sense of how to speak slowly and clearly so I could understand all her Spanish. She explained lots of perplexing Ecuadorian phenomena, such as why the “full” bus had shut out a crowd of eager people at the station, but stopped to pick up a dozen people standing along the side of the road with their hands out.

“The people we’re picking up all have tickets already,” she explained. “They just didn’t want to walk all the way to the station this morning, so they’re catching the bus as it comes by.” That sounded like a risky option to me, and María Belén confessed that she had once missed the bus that way. “Now I always go to the station to catch the bus,” she told me.

As the hours passed and we neared Quito, the bus driver began picking up everyone he saw, packing the aisles and cab of the bus.

“Why didn’t he pack the bus this full before?” I asked María Belén.

“Because four hours is too long to ride uncomfortably,” she explained, as if the answer were obvious. “Plus, how would all these people get home if the bus were already full?”

I’m sure those bustling crowds in Tena would not have minded a standing-room-only ticket, but somehow the Ecuadorian system of chaos works out.

Suddenly, María Belén signaled to the driver and hopped out the bus door while we were still rolling down the highway. “This is my stop!” she hollered to me as we rolled away. “Stay in touch!”

When we arrived at Quito’s southern bus station, I took the public Trolebus all the way up to my go-to hostel in Old Town. Just as I arrived at the top-floor registration desk, Brian (my long-haired friend from before) greeted me with a hug.

“I’m going to the coast tonight on a night bus!” he informed me enthusiastically. His new traveling buddy, a blond Canadian named Aysha, would be joining him.

“Mind if I tag along?” I asked spontaneously. The coast was going to be my next destination anyway. I told the man at the registration desk “never mind” about the room. After dinner, I helped Bryan chop some wood, then took my packed suitcase back to the southern bus terminal for my favorite thing in the world (sarcasm), a night bus ride.

Spontaneity: noun: a way of life which leads to bus rides with panoramic-views, new friends, and sleeping in places you never imagined when you woke up that morning.

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Todo Es Posible, Nada Es Seguro

Friday, February 21

I woke up in the dark once again, but this time for a lesser cause. I had to catch the 6:30am Flor del Valle bus back to Quito, so I would be back at the Ministerio in time to pick up my visa. Everything went well, including the expected bureaucratic delays. I am so glad I had Gaby (the lawyer’s assistant) with me to pick up the visa. Even something so simple would be impossible without Gaby there to show me the third-floor room, or to ask the officer if he had forgotten our queue, politely at first and with increasing force until we were finally tended to. I was so relieved to get my Ecuadorian visa! This means that if all goes well, I might be able to get my Galapagos visa by Thursday and be in the Galapagos this time next week. Keeping my fingers crossed.

The rest of the day was chill. I had another Mercado Central lunch, this time a soup with sangre and cuero – that’s blood and leather, or cowskin, in this case. Can’t say they were my favorite flavors. I played some rainy, grassy soccer in the park with Brian, a long-haired hostel volunteer who always strikes up interesting philosophical or political conversations with me.

After dinner, I sat on the rooftop garden terrace contemplating my options. I could catch a bus to Baños for some cycling, rafting, and waterfalls. I could join a travel agency’s four-day trek around Quilotoa Crater. I could catch a bus to Puerto Lopez on the coast and visit my ultimate-playing friend from Seattle.

That’s when I met a friendly Swiss man who glasses, floppy brown hair, and a goofy grin. His name was Matthias, and he was planning to leave on a five-hour bus for Tena the next morning with his girlfriend, Rebecca. Matthias explained about his geography master’s project in the sleepy Amazonian town of Tena, the German-run hostel he would stay at, and the college-aged rainforest volunteers who would be there. Normally I would be shy about asking to join him and Rebecca on their trip, but I remembered I had been delighted when Daan confidently joined my travel plans in Mindo.

“Of course you can tag along,” Matthias told me. “We’ll share a cab to the bus terminal tomorrow morning. Breakfast at 7:30?” I ran downstairs to pack my things once again, thrilled at this spontaneous opportunity to spend time in my favorite biome in the world, the Amazon.

Saturday, February 22

Tena, here I come! I met Matthias’s girlfriend, Rebecca, at breakfast. With their nerdy passions, free-flowing itinerary, and Swiss-German humor, these two beautiful people formed an inspirational couple.

The bus ride was a magnificent journey from Quito’s high-altitude valley, up and over the eastern cordillera covered in the golden grasses of the Paramo, and down the slopes of the Andes through cloud forest, until we finally arrived in the Amazonian town of Tena. The climate, geography, and flora here are markedly different from Yasuni National Park, where I spent time earlier. Although Tena technically lies within the Amazon, it still has some altitude. The rivers are fast-flowing and rocky, not the lazy, muddy behemoths of the interior. The heat was less stifling, and the mosquitos are supposedly free from malaria.

I third-wheeled it all afternoon through an avocado-and-chicken bowl at La Tortuga Café and a stroll across the river. My bedroom was like a dream – a large window to the yard, a clean white tile floor, a comfy twin bed, and no roommate. Matthias assured me I’m still paying the $8.00 per night dorm-room fee for this lovely private room because the dorm beds were full. I’m not sure of anything, though, because there seems to be nobody in charge here. People cook in the kitchen and come-and-go as they please, but the reception is empty. I could sneak out tomorrow and no one would know the difference. But this place seems really nice, and I plan to stay a few days. Here’s to spontaneous adventures in the Amazon!

Matthias and Rebecca lead the way into the off-the-beaten-track hostel.

These giant snails (and their poop) were all over the hostel's garden.

A little red bug.

Tropical flowers grew everywhere.

Sweat bees, partaking in nectar for a change.

The panoramic view for which the hostel is known.

A Blue-Gray Tanager in the yard.

This mammoth bug lived in the garage. He must have moved in when the neighborhood was named "Antennas!"

The driveway.

Everything was written in German.

A table of plastic cups filled with dirt and seeds -- part of the hostel's reforestation project.

Sunday, February 23

I woke up planless yet again. Matthias and Rebecca weren’t around, but they had mentioned a little mini-mart down the road with groceries, so I decided to do a little early-morning bird watching while I walked there.

The hostel isn’t located in the jungle, but there are still lots of trees along the muddy roads and paths here. The hostel is in a new neighborhood named “Sector Las Antennas” for its location partway up the hill to the new radio/cell towers. Urban sprawl in the Amazon, yuck. Anyway, I saw some cool birds on my way to buy eggs and bread.

Silver-Beaked Tanager?

Yellow-Tufted Woodpecker.

Blue-and-White Swallow.

The same mystery bird from Mindo??

I then found the store, which is actually a living room filled with groceries. I was calling, “HOLA?” through the white ironwork over the open-air window when Matthias and Rebecca showed up for their breakfast. Through our combined efforts, we finally attracted the attention of the shop’s owner and purchased our individual eggs and white rolls in plastic baggies.

As I cooked breakfast, I introduced myself to the other members of the hostel and met a German couple, Nadine and Sascha, who were planning a jungle tour to Limoncocha. Of course, I asked to join! They said I was welcome, especially since three people would make the tour cheaper. We rushed down to a café to meet the guide, a young Kichwa man named Nixon, to decide the details. The couple wanted to make sure they liked this guide, after a poor experience on their last tour. Over juices, the plan was arranged and we agreed on a price of $180 per person for three days and nights. It sounds like a lot of money compared to an $8 per night hostel, but it would barely cover one night at a hotel in Seattle. Food, lodging, transportation, a full-time guide and cook, and three days in the Amazon – sounds like a good value to me!

I spent the afternoon walking through the rain with Matthias and Rebecca in a park called La Isla. It’s not actually an island, but rather the center of the “Y” formed by the confluence of Tena’s two rivers. Although both sides of the river are highly developed, this central region has been preserved as primary forest. In the park, we found captive monkeys, herons, turtles and caimans in a sort of zoo. Wild squirrel monkeys also abounded. In the gazebo, I came across a white-haired lady from Oregon studying her Spanish homework. We talked for a while about her nursing volunteer work, and she showed me a giant tarantula she’d been eyeing. She reminded me so much of my mom!

The tower and bridge over the confluence of Tena's two rivers. A sign proudly states, "Brought to You by The Petroleum Industry."

Three indigenous figures in a public park.

This evening, I scrambled to prepare for the trip to Limoncocha. It begins with a 7-hour night bus through Coca all the way into the interior Amazon. Talk about adventure! I packed food, got money out of the ATM, stored most of my luggage at the hostel, and caught a taxi down to the bus terminal with Nadine and Sascha. There, we were greeted with a new guide, Fausto, and Nixon hurriedly explaining that he couldn’t come after all. Fausto was carrying our rubber boots and several cardboard boxes of fruits, vegetables, grains, toilet paper, and water. They say in Ecuador, Todo es posible, nada es seguro. Everything is possible, nothing is certain. I have never heard a more apt slogan.

I found my window-seat next to Fausto, wrapped my orange bandana around my eyes, and settled in for a long, bumpy night.

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Mindo, Land of Butterflies and Chocolate

Tuesday, February 18

This morning, I accomplished the real task which drew me to Quito: I submitted the paperwork to apply for my Ecuadorian visa! I woke up before sunrise and hired a taxi to the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores y Movilidad Humana. I was so anxious to be on time that I arrived almost an hour early. It was like magic when Gaby, the assistant to the lawyer with whom I have been e-mailing for months, showed up with my paperwork. I wanted to give her a bear hug! The transaction was uneventful, and Gaby advised me to meet her at the same place on Friday afternoon. Smoother sailing than expected. Now I was free from Quito for two days. The question was, what to do?

First off, a huge $2.00 lunch of yapingacho and a $0.50 coconut smoothie with my British friends at the Mercado Central. Then, soccer and frisbee in the park. I was happy, tired, grassy, and soaking wet by the time I returned to the hostel that evening. It was an afternoon of happy freedom. With that mindset, I decided how I will spend tomorrow. I’m hopping a bus to Mindo, the bird-watcher’s heaven in the cloud forest!

The more I research Mindo, the more giddy I become. There’s even a nine-day luxury bird tour put on my a Mindo birding company. Not in my time-frame or budget now, but it’s something to dream about for the future. Maybe I can take my mom on that tour for her 60^th birthday!

For tonight, I will contain my thoughts to the next two days I plan to spend in the steamy, rainy, high-altitude forest of Mindo. I’m all packed and paid up. The only thing left to do it read my Birds of Ecuador book and dream of toucans, motmots, flycatchers and trogons. Goodnight!

Wednesday, February 19

Welcome to Mindo, land of butterflies and chocolate! And, of course, birds. I just learned that Mindo is the third best birding hot-spot in South America. How lucky am I?

I took the 9:00am bus from Quito’s northern bus station to Mindo for a whopping $2.00. The bus system charges roughly a dollar an hour. If only Seattle’s public transit was that cheap! When I got off the bus on a sleepy dirt road, I noticed two other foreigners putting on their backpacks and looking around uncertainly.

“What hostel are you looking for?” asked a middle-aged woman with thick brown bangs.

“Hostal Cecilia?” I replied, having read good reviews of it last night.

“That’s where I’m going!” both of the other travelers said at once. I guess it’s a good place!

We all walked a few blocks through the misty fog to a clean, simple, cheap hostel on the river. The second traveler, a young Dutch guy named Daan, and I headed up the ladder to the open-air dormitory. As we unpacked, Daan asked what I had planned. “I think I’ll join you on everything you do for the next couple days,” he proclaimed. It’s the luck of the backpacker – you meet perfect travel companions everywhere you go.

So I wrote up a list of all the sites I hoped to explore, and we set off immediately to La Mariposeria, the butterfly house. The walk took longer than expected, especially because we would come across one sign that said “1 km” and then a while later, the next sign would say “2.7 km.” We were never sure if the distances were listed to the actual destination, or just until the next sign.

The trek was well worth it, because the butterflies were spectacular. I tried to match my photos with the informational signs around the butterfly house, but they weren't all easy to tell. So here are my pictures and possible names for the butterflies in them!

Heliconius cydno 

Metona grandiosa 

Siproeta epaphus

Heliconius ismenius 

Morpho elenor 

The same species with its wings closed!

Papilio something... amazing placement!

Heliconius erato 

Heliconius sara 

Heliconius athis 

Heliconius melpomene

I didn't catch the name of the gorgeous orange insect.

My favorite parts were allowing the giant brown Caligo memnon butterflies to lap up rotten banana while standing on my finger and examining the diverse chrysalis collection.

You just had to prompt them a little bit and they hopped right on.

Those stripey gel eyes...

The chrysalises tend to be camouflaged based on where that species lays its eggs. These look like flower buds.

I couldn't find any chrysalises within this display of dried leaves.

Butterflies that lay their eggs near water often have metallic pupae like these.

It's hard to imagine this golden jewel blending in anywhere!

I'm not sure what these pupae are trying to mimic.

Outside the Mariposaria, a couple hummingbird feeders attracted the glittering, hovering, buzzing birds. I could have sat and watched the white-necked jacobins, green-crowned woodnypmphs, and white-whiskered hermits all day, but our 4:00pm appointment for the Mindo Chocolate Factory tour was approaching.

A green-crowned woodnymph.

We hurried back through a torrential rainstorm to the small, artisan chocolate factory in the forest.

The tour began with a walk through the factory's garden, where many of the additives are grown.

I never knew what ginger looked like in the ground!

CACAO!!!! (Any Portlandia fans out there?)

Lemongrass after a haircut -- I mean harvest.

Drying racks of cacao beans.

Add caption

A fermenting cacao bean is bright purple inside! Purple chocolate, anyone?

The low-tech blower machine which separates the nib from the husk.

Overall, the tour was interesting, but I was really just looking forward to samples. We each got a little cup of bitter chocolate sauce and added sugar, ginger, sour honey "barbecue" sauce, and other flavorings to our own taste. It was delicious, but definitely not enough! Daan and I had to buy some chocolate bars to try as well. It was interesting to compare this factory to Theo, the chocolate factory in my neighborhood of Seattle. A lot of the concepts were the same -- pure dark unadulterated chocolate, fair-trade ingredients, handmade products, crazy new flavor combinations -- but the main difference was scale. Theo is turning into a national favorite, whereas I don't see Mindo Chocolate Factory venturing out of the clouds anytime soon.

We were supposed to attend a third tourist event tonight, the Frog Concert night walk, but the heavy drizzle and our tired bodies prompted us to spend the night in.

My first night under the princess-canopy of a mosquito net.

My awesome spontaneous traveling companion, Daan the Dutchman.

Before bed, I found myself in pajamas at 8:00pm with nothing to do. I hadn’t brought my computer or any novels to read. Sometimes I love that uncertainty of what to do with my time, a feeling that reminds me of childhood days before homework and internship applications and Facebook. It forces you to be creative.

I pulled out my bird book, my journal, and my red plastic case of colored pencils. I started sketching Mindo’s myriad hummingbird species in hopes that I might learn to identify a few.

I only got through six before the consistent dripping of rain on the aluminum roof put me to sleep.

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