I am currently staying on the side of an active Andean
volcano. Tungurahua, to be precise.
Apparently, the beast is on orange alert, which means
it could decide to obliterate this part of Ecuador
anytime now. Last summer, it was spewing hot geysers
of lava and hurling car-sized boulders several miles
out, and the entire area was evacuated.
That hasn't stopped the locals from flocking back to
the picturesque little town of Banos on its side,
though, nor the influx of happy-go-lucky tourists such
as myself. Heh, heh.
But let me backtrack 24 hours or so.
There's absolutely no sense in describing my trip from
Cedar Rapids to Quito, Ecuador. It was long. It was
boring. It was dull. That about sums it up.
Arriving in Quito at 8:30PM (it's the same time as
Iowa), I figured I'd try to catch a bus straight to
Banos instead of spending the night and doing it in
the morning.
If there's one thing that'll put all your senses on
alert and get a little adrenaline pumping, it's the
bus station of a major third-world country capital
city at night.
Chaos. Confusion. A constant lookout for pickpockets
and scam artists. And in this case, flashbacks to high
school Spanish classes, where I wish I'd paid just a
little bit more attention!
One thing in my favor, though, is that I tower over
Ecuadorians, so unless a group ganged up on me I felt
pretty confident no one was going to go for an
aggressive robbery tactic (that and the presence of
Ecuadorian SWAT team members here and there, dressed
all in black with body armor and machine guns...)
There's not much to say about the bus ride except
that, in the confusion of finding which bus I was
actually supposed to be on (no, it didn't have Banos
written anywhere on it), I neglected to visit the
restroom before leaving.
Three and a half hours of bumpy mountain travel later,
I was fairly certain that I had done permanent damage
to my bladder. Builds character, I guess.
Anyway, I found myself at 1:30AM in the middle of
Banos with just my backpack for company. And I
couldn't find a place to stay. There were hostals here
and there, but the front doors were locked and the
lights were out. Damn.
(And, no, I don't like to do reservations ahead of
time--it's usually a rip-off compared to getting a
room on the spot)
So I roamed the streets, occasionally passing groups
of Ecuadorians out for a good time. Some 20 minutes
later, this little kid called out to me from a
balcony. We shouted back and forth at each other until
we agreed that I needed a room and he had some.
He came down to unlock the front door and led me up a
grungy set of stairs to the rooms.
To say that the room was a hole in the wall would be a
compliment. This flimsy wooden door opened (barely
clearing the bed) to reveal the smallest "hotel" room
I'd ever laid eyes on. It was a bed surrounded by four
walls.
And one could argue the wall part, since they were
more like wooden planks with peeling paint (pastel
green). It wasn't like you could move them aside or
anything; it was definitely a relatively solid wall.
But there was enough of a crack between some of them
that you could see into the adjoining cell--er, room.
But, hey. It's 2:00AM. I'm tired. I don't want to roam
the streets anymore. And it didn't feel like it was a
dangerous place or anything. Just small and spartan.
Four dollars later, it was mine. The kid gave me a
small key to the 30 year old rusty padlock to put on
the front door when I went out, and I was ready for
bed.
God, that was the hardest, lumpiest bed I've ever
slept on. But I got a good night's sleep nonetheless.
This morning, I went out hunting for good (but still
cheap) accomodations. I found the perfect place a few
blocks down and will settle in around lunch time when
one of their rooms open up.
Today, I'm going to plan out my week--figure out what
kinds of good adventures I can go on. Short of being
incinerated by Tungurahua, I should have a great time!
Cheers,
Gabriel
