Why is it that travellers tend not to
be bothered by what would seem to be the most inconvenient of
circumstances? In fact, we revel in it! Is it because we have zero
expectations? Or, on the contrary, do we expect that things are not
going to go as smoothly as we would hope and so are not disappointed
or surprised when, as expected, they don't?
After 4 days of wanting to jump out of
my skin due to the sickness that, at one time or another, strikes any
foreigner to Latin America, I enjoyed the rest of my descanso
in Quito. Yes, I went back to Quito. I didn't think it would be so
soon but I am pleased to find myself with a far better taste in my
mouth about the city and what it has to offer. Staying in the
historic district, my hostel was one block from where I was mugged so
I got to trompe
everyday past the monument where it happened, stare it in the face
and say, “Ha! I came back! See? I'm not
afraid!” Then I went on my
way and discovered the charm of the city's historic center with its
old-fashioned cafes, restaurants, churches, etc.
Yesterday
was the long trip back to the jungle and let me tell you, I am just
happy I made it here in one piece. Instead of taking the long bus
rides from Quito to Tena, then Tena to Los Rios, Ryan and I opted to
drive back with Jose (the administrator of the new Yachana Institute)
who is from the Spanish Canary Islands and therefore a challenge to
understand as any “s” in his speech is pronounced
as a breath of air.
It was
convenient that he was returning to Yachana on the same day because
driving in private car takes only about 6 hours rather than the 8 or
9 in bus. Or it should anyway. As tends to happen, the trip started
out smoothly, Ryan and I met Jose at the airport at 8:35 when his
plane landed. “Hola! Como ehtan
uhtedeh?”
Right on time. We were in the car headed to Tena by 9:00a.m. Earlier
than expected. But Ryan and I weren't fooled. We had established
ahead of time that we were without expectations of arriving on time,
if we even were to make it that day. We simply sat back, enjoyed the
extra leg room, and let things unfold Latin America style.
Our driver was
Roberto, whose glasses magnified his eyes to look twice their size,
and who used his stick shift as a break when going down hill, down
shifting to third gear and making the van work hard to keep up speed
with his heavy foot.
We made it to Tena
around 1:00p.m. We were to pick up a weeks worth of food that had
already been ordered and set aside for us to pick up at the open air
market. When we got there, the amount of food we were to take was
unbelievable. Boxes of lettuce and cauliflower and pineapples, sacks
of potatoes and apples and onions. Once there, we realized we were
going to have to back in the van to load up.
But of
then, the first road block – Jose hadn't yet gone to the bank to
get out the money to pay the market vendor. (Ok,
who goes to the market with the intention of buying A WEEK'S WORTH OF
FOOD FOR 25 PEOPLE and brings no cash?) So Jose and our driver went
to the bank. First of all, yesterday was a holiday. No one had to
work so where is everyone? At the bank. And not only are all the
people from Tena at the bank, but all the people from surrounding
communities and small towns where there are no banks are there too.
Second of all, the ATM in all of Ecuador only allows a withdrawal of
100 dollars daily. I understand, how was Jose supposed to know that
being a foreigner?
We
finally met them back at the market at around 2:00p.m., paid the
vendor for the vegetables and loaded up the car. All four of us stood
at the back of the van, looking in the open doors at the expanse of
produce that we had just piled in. Jose said, “Me parehe mucha
comida pa veinte perhonah.” This seems like a lot of food
for 20 people. Indeed it did.
And the rotting process had already begun as it had to be close to 95
degrees in Tena at 2:00p.m.
It was
lunch time and we were all hungry. As we had already spent a good
hour in Tena, and we still had quite a trip to Los Rios and a full
car of produce to unload out of the van, into a canoe, and again out
of the canoe to the lodge once we arrived, the most logical thing to
do would have been to pick up a quick sandwich, a choclo con queso
from a street vendor, or one
of the quick in-and-out lunch
restaurants on every corner
whose whole purpose of
existence is to get people back to work on time (or back to work at
all). But Ecuador gave up on
logic a long time ago so Jose and Roberto's decision to eat at a sit
down restaurant that was more crowded than a Sunday Mother's Day
buffet at Bob Evans, was no big surprise. An hour and a half (and
three beers) later, we were ready to go! Almost.
We
needed printers ink. Why, I ask, did we wait until arriving in the
jungle to buy ink rather than anticipating that the
jungle would be an unreliable source of anything related to computers
and purchasing an ink cartridge in the great metropolis of Guayaquil
when Jose was there for a week? Foresight also not being a strong
point in Latin America, Jose and Roberto jumped around to a block's
worth of computer shops where they found that the only ink being sold
was colored, and they wanted black. So they made their way. Empty
handed, back to the van where Ryan and I had waited. Forty minutes
(and one ice cream) later, we were off to Los Rios. After one last
stop.
We needed toilet
paper. So rather than stopping at any little corner store, any of
which is empty at any given time because the identical store next
door is sure to sell the same thing, we stopped at the super market
which, yesterday being a holiday, was packed beyond capacity. 20
minutes (and 30 rolls of toilet paper) later, we were on our way.
Really.
But now it was
4:30, and we had at least a two hour car ride to Los Rios, and
everyone knows the sun goes down at 6. By 6:30 we would be working
with darkness. So Robert began to drive... and drive he did. He took
advantage of the hour of tarmac that ends abruptly at the dirt road
that takes you through small communities until you reach the Napo
River, passing slower trucks and cars and whizzing by small children
who walk barefoot along the highway. We were literally racing the
sunset.
The rocky road
continued and continued and seemed never to end as the sky changed
from blue to golden to pink to musky purple as the sun went down
below the trees. I enjoyed the jungle view and the breeze on my face
through the open window, intentionally having decided not to worry
about the increasingly real possibility that we would not make it to
Yachana that night. 3 hours, one missed turn (and one starry night
sky) later, we arrived in Los Rios.
Looking around the
sleepy community where locals sat around the community television
watching an American movie in English with Spanish subtitles, we saw
no conoe. Jose was frantic. “Vamoh a tener que dormir en el carro
que te parehe?” We're going to have to sleep in the car what do
you think?
As Jose wandered
around under the stars searching for cell service, we heard the sound
of a motor on the river. We all rushed to the bank and looked out,
waiting to see if it was the Yachana canoe there to pick us up (and
our 400 pounds of produce). We were in luck! I almost wanted to kiss
our canoe driver and thank him for venturing out onto the treacherous
Napo River in the darkness of the night.
No one wanted to
load and unload the produce, so we abandoned the van, took our bags,
and piled into the canoe. On the river the moon produced a comforting
glow and in the distance shown rays of lightning while above us the
sky was clear and starry. We flew down river faster than we flew down
the road in the rickety old van; air in my face rather than dust
kicked up by the buses that drove in front of us. It felt good to be
back on the river!
Maybe travelers have fewer expectations. While Jose and Robert grew increasingly more frustrated with each other and with the situation at hand, Ryan and I smiled. It wasn't so bad! It was comical and to be honest completely foreseeable! We had made it in one piece and even gotten to take a canoe ride under the stars. Life is pretty good.
