Wednesday, July 6, 2011

It takes how long to get to Cuenca? - Part II

I was there for an hour after the flight left before I was able to speak to anyone about what my options were. I was surrounded by people speaking a language I don’t speak and I hadn't even left America yet. Native Spanish speakers always speak fast, but they speak really fast when they are mad. I made out maybe 2% of the words. Hopefully no one gets mad at me in Ecuador. I am confident will not understand them.
We get walked to the help desk and I got a ticket and a seat assignment for the late flight for the next day and learn I will get a check (not a voucher) for $285. Getting cash out of an airline to spend an extra day in Miami with my cousin and our new Spanish friends isn't the worst thing that could happen. I was told to go to the future-ticketing desk at D25, which didn’t really make sense, but they know better than I. D25. No agent. No check. No nothing. Future ticketing is out with the rest of the ticketing counters and an exit is near D25. Makes more sense.
I get my money and Peter picks me up from the airport again and we pick up those same wonderful burgers form Taurus and hang out again for a night. I feel better knowing 21C has my name on it. C's are always isles so I am in good shape. D's can trick you. Few worse things than finding out your plane only has five seats in a row and D is the fourth letter in the alphabet. I'm 5'9'' but I need to stretch out.
My last night in Miami was quiet but we ended up staying up late. Its not often one wakes up and only has an hour before he has to leave for his 6:20pm flight. Boarding the flight was easy. I was able to break the big bills the airline gave me into smaller ones. Ecuador uses U.S. currency but they don't have much in the way of change nor do things cost very much. Anything over a $20 bill isn't very useful.
Obviously my gate was at the end of the terminal. I think I had legitimately walked 3 miles throughout that airport by the time I left. 21C. Thankfully Peter let me borrow a shirt. I still didn't have my toiletries and I didn't want to sit next to me. I felt bad for the guy who did have to until he took over half of my seat with his huge arms and his own more pungent fragrance. It wasn't Sex Panther but it was close.
Arriving in Guayaquil wasn't bad. The line for customs went quickly. As long as you check “No” on fruits and vegetables I think you are fine. The bags came and went. Mine weren't there. Though depressing it was also expected. They made it on the flight I was bumped from. So glad to see my bags for the first time in 3 days I went directly to the bathroom and changed and put on deodorant. Matt was smart enough to give me directions in Spanish to the hostel. The computer at Peter's house decided to stop having Internet right when I was looking for a map to print for directions. Figures.

I talk to the cab coordinator and I could barely speak English I was so tired and worn out. Forget Spanish. I looked as ignorantly gringoey as possible. Good news is that he had heard of Hostel Guayaquil and directed me to a conductor de taxi that was nice and spoke a little English. Matt said the cab ride should only be five minutes or so. The cabbie thought ten. Hmmm. Well maybe Matt hasn't stayed there and didn't know. "This doesn't seem like what I saw on the map," I thought to myself. But I couldn’t have had my bearings - it's nighttime in a city that's in a country I have never been in before. The cabbie is happy and proud when we arrive at the Grand Hotel Guayaquil... But that's not where I am supposed to go. "Yes, tis." he says. "No it's not." His confidence and my trusting nature led to me not getting out the directions right when I got in the cab.
Now I hand them to him and he figures out that he is wrong and we start to drive back near the airport. I text my friend his name. His credentials are on the back of the seat. I figure if something happens maybe this way they can find my body. He follows the directions, which lead to a sketchy looking street and a building with no name. Convinced this isn’t it, I start to wonder if I am actually going to find this place or wonder the streets of Guayaquil until my van leaves in the morning. If that’s the case I hope he kicks me out on a different street because this one did not look friendly to gringos with 90lbs. of luggage. Fortunately the cabbie went to the door and rang a buzzer and the person that answered spoke English and knew my name. This was it. $8 later, I said goodbye to the cab driver. For $25 I had Internet, TV, air conditioning, a comfortable bed and full bathroom. I’m starting to like Ecuador.
In the morning I got up and ate some of the trail mix I grabbed in Miami and open my other bottle of water. I finally get to talk to Matt on the phone. Short trip to the van company. Easy peasy. The cab driver doesn’t speak much English but my broken Spanish was fine and he knew where we were going. When we arrived I saw the sign for the transportation company with which I had a reservation. This where I am supposed to be and I didn’t get lost on the way. Progress! I was ushered near a van full of people.
“Blah blah blah?”
“No. Cuenca!”
“AHH! Cuenca! Cuenca! Sigueme!”
I followed him and hopped in the back of van. $12 dollars, just as Matt had said. A three-hour ride through the mountains in the back of a van actually sounded pretty nice. I was at sea level going to 8,300 ft. This should be interesting. As in most countries, the cab drivers are insane. Speeding, swerving, stopping abruptly, narrowly missing objects large and less large. Once out of the city we quickly get into the mountains. It is beautiful. Very green.
Racing up this winding road was something I would love to do in a Porsche. In the back of a van, a lesser stomach would have had an issue. I was fine and enjoyed it. Driving up into the clouds is always interesting as you see them coming and then you are engulfed in white. I could see some oncoming headlights but the road and the cliff to my right had disappeared. I didn’t find the seatbelt until after the trip. It would have been more useful in the city than on the cliff’s edge but a false sense of security is sometimes better than no sense of security.
After the three-hour beautiful drive, I was finally in Cuenca. I was minutes from seeing and hugging Di, who was waiting for me at my “van station.” We arrived and I walked in lobby to see no blond godmother or even a white person. This gringo was a little bit suspect because we were already late. It was 1:30 and we were supposed to be there at 1:00. My back pocket had the important papers I printed off with cab directions and important numbers. One paper had all the info and the other had Matt and Di’s numbers. I had all the info but no numbers. Awesome.
I searched through my bag and though a force, which I don’t think science can explain (No, it cannot just be gravity), the paper ended up at the bottom of a very full bag. I called Di and she was waiting for me at the bus stop. The right bus stop. I was at the wrong one. Apparently there are two van companies on the same corner in Guayaquil and one has a habit of poaching the other’s clients. Fortunately Di was only down the block and was there in no time. We were both so happy we were finally together. In a perfect world I would have been here a month ago. With perfect weather I would have been here four days ago. We hopped in a cab – they are everywhere in Cuenca – and went to the apartment, only a few blocks from El Centro (downtown/UNESCO historical site).
The kids were waiting for me at the top of the elevator and gave me big hugs. They were as happy to see me, as I was to see them. I walked into third floor apartment, from which you can see most of the historical city. The clouds gliding across the Andes were reminiscent of my trip to Peru.
Matt was also waiting with open arms. As my main Ecuadorian correspondent, he was happy to see I was still in one piece. The hugs and kisses and the signs and balloons on my bedroom door made for the best welcome I’ve had in a while. After 4 days, 4,000 miles, 3 trips to the airport, 4 missed flights, 2 sprawled out neighbors, 1 wrong hotel, 1 wrong van, I got to the right city and am ready to start my journey.

No comments:

Post a Comment