Travel People

I’ve enjoyed living in the Andes, and in a city older than Peter O’Toole. I’ve enjoyed speaking Spanish and eating different parts of the animals than I am used to eating. But I think my favorite part thus far has been meeting different people.

It was hard at first. The language school I was studying at seemed like the tide after a storm when I was a kid. Like the tide would wash different things upon the shore, the school would usher in new students in each week.

The tide would wash up fun things to play with and shells that were interesting to listen to. Some things were kinda gross and some things I was happy to throw back into the ocean. The school brought some friends that I will keep in touch with. Brought some people I loved listening to and have learned from. Some accents I had never heard and some I couldn’t understand (I thought Irish people spoke English). Some people I was happy to let the tide take away (The French stereotype is true. It just is.). Some people were on interesting journeys and some people were on really interesting journeys. Some had been adrift for a while and some had just set sail.

Like every sandcastle I have ever built looked pretty similar, you end up having a lot of the same conversations. But like all my sandcastles were glorious and triumphant (I remember, clearly), all the conversations are wonderful as well. The questions are the same but the answers are different. People have simi

lar reasons but they come from different places within them.

This last weekend Matt and Di were still on the road. We had traveled north through Ecuador making our way to Quito (the capital) where I parted ways and came back to Cuenca (I need a solid week to prepare for my fantasy football draft)(Plus I was completely out of money… Ecuador is not THAT cheap). Matt and Di continued on their way to the jungle and the beach with the kids but before they left they sent me a little care package.

They talked to a couple for about 15 minutes in a hostel before they thought enough of them to lend out their apartment for a weekend. They gave the travelers my number and Matt texted me that a couple and their daughter (who they hadn’t met) were on the way. I didn’t have a clue and was mildly bummed I was losing my own apartment for a few days (Love those kids but some alone time at home was welcome). We exchanged two emails and a phone call before they showed up at the door.

Michael and Pilar are in their mid thirties and from the Orange County area. Michael had an impressive beard and a wit that kept me entertained the entire time. He lives out west but is from Chicago and retains the genuineness that has made me so found of the Midwest. He is a very smart IT guy and knew his stuff as we talked about technology and innovation and, of course, movies. He likes fixing bikes and cooking. He was a pleasure to be around because I could tell he was soaking in every moment of his experience. He is observant and curious and just enjoyed learning about a different place. He asked questions about what he saw – most of which I couldn’t answer. Some tour guide.

Pliar is a massage therapist and her free spirit was refreshing. We had an interesting conversation about the tattoos the couple was sporting. We talked about her experiences with how different people react to them and how her experiences getting them and why you should, shouldn’t, and which ones to look out for (No girls’ names!). It was actually the first time I had had a conversation about tattoos with someone who actually had them.

Pilar’s daughter, though, has to wait. Xylia, is 15 going on 25. When I was 15 I was counting down the days til I could drive, sleeping through biology, and discovering girls and booze (and the nice combo they made). Xylia likes politics and music. She really likes music. I know what I like and what I don’t but I can’t dissect baselines or compare bands’ albums from the 70’s. But this girl knows her stuff. And wasn’t condescending about it like some people who think they are holier than now because they listened to some obscure album and wikipediaed the bassist’s drug problems. Before she ever gets behind the wheel of a car, she will have been to Ecuador, Argentina, Peru, Chile and have backpacked in Patagonia. Not your average 15-year-old SoCal blond.

They arrived in Ecuador about the same time I did. They had spent the past three weeks living out in the country with an indigenous family. They slept on the dirt floor wrapped up in their sleeping bags and half their clothes.

They were pretty excited to be sleeping in beds but most of all to see a proper kitchen. These guys could cook. They made impeccable pizzas and breakfasts that would suit royalty. I’m so pathetic in the kitchen I can hardly tell you what we ate, let alone make it. It wasn’t macaroni and cheese. It wasn’t ramen. It wasn’t peanut butter and jelly. It wasn’t cereal. But there were eggs in there! I recognized those!

The first night we went out to La Cigale – now bartenders know me by name in two countries… ugh. We got to know each other and I was able to find out more about their previous travels and they were very interested in my experience in staying in one place.

Their original plan was to live in Argentina for a year instead of traveling. Having just come back from about 8 days on the road I was in a little better position to speak to the difference. Having Cuenca as a home was a much different experience. I have Cuencano friends. I have local places I like to eat and walk. I have a bed I call mine, and my own space when I need it. Being sick in South America is not fun. But being sick in a South American hostel is terrible (or in Xylia’s case, on a farm with a cozy dirt floor to retreat to). I have a bed, a shower, and a family that is there shall sickness strike me.

The next morning we went to the Cuenca vs. Ecuador futbol game. Not feeling quite so bold as to sit in the “General” seating, we got the expensive seats at $16 a pop. The beer was $2 a piece and my jersey was $5. I went to a major sporting event in town and spent a combined $25 dollars for a good ticket, a jersey and two beers (big guys too!). That might get you a parking spot within a mile of a Laker game where a jersey is another $80. The ticket would be $125ish and two beers would probably cost you $7.50 a piece. That’s about $245 for one person. I’ll take the soccer game.

The fans are better. The cheering is more fun. It’s an international game. And oh yeah… We won on a goal in the 87^th minute. GO CUENCA!!! So exciting.

Quito is the best team in the league. Screw them. We won.

After the game we took a walk up to La Iglesia de Turi. – maybe the best view of town. When we got home we played Rummy and ate pizza. The homemade dough was delicious.

The record books will tell you that Michael was the first to 500 pts., but I was the first to 300 pts. and we had originally agreed to play to 300 and after I just wasn’t as invested. The second part of the game didn’t count. And just because someone wrote something on piece of paper, doesn’t make it true. I know who won. That’s probably enough.

Unfortunately Michael, Pilar, and Xylia didn’t get very good weather while they were visiting. Their last day they just wanted to hang out. Pilar made it out to explore but a couple raindrops were enough to put me down for a nap.

We went back to La Cigale that night and we brought the cards. They say you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure. I like going to La Cigale and having fun but when I play cards, I am all business. This combo didn’t bring me any good karma and I got my butt kicked. Add one to the loss column but let there be an asterisk to let people know the circumstances. In 1945 St. Louis Browns’ outfielder, Peter Gray, batted just .218 but he was at a slight disadvantage… he only had ONE ARM. That is something people should know when evaluating his performance. This is kinda like that.

Michael, Pilar, and Xylia are moving to Portland when they return to the states. Portland is on my very short list of cities I will ideally end up in, so I am confident I will meet them again back home. Though hopefully before that, down on the new farm, where they are staying, about six hours south of Cuenca. They’ll head to Peru next month.

For only spending about 15 minutes with two of them, Matt and Di knew what I found to be true: traveling is a web of places, languages, buildings, mountains, religions, foods beaches, climates, and cultures, but it’s the people you meet in between, that connect everything and create the experiences you take with you through your life.

I won’t ever forget the people that have crossed my path throughout my time here and if and when the tide brings them back upon my shore, the will be cards ready.