AYANGUE AND A LITTLE HUNGRY TOO

There I was in beautiful, and eerily quiet, Ayangue.  When I arrived on Sunday, the place was seriously hopping with people and beach bars and vendors and local crafts...

But then Monday came... and it was just me!  So I took the opportunity to walk along the beach and wander throughout the town, which is very small.  I sat on the beach and read... wandered some more... Pretty boring, uneventful day...

There are little beach cabanas everywhere... and by this, I mean that there are small pop up 15x15 'only top' tents scattered along the shore, with old plastic deck chairs underneath them - ranging in price from $5-$7US to rent for the day... the whole tent, that is.  This seems reasonable for a family of 15 or a school group... but for just me?  It's too expensive considering the return on investment! I just want to sit down in the sun for an hour, without getting sand in my bum.

Speaking of sitting down, I also thought I might want to lie down ... catch some rays... read a bit and maybe have a nap on the beach.  I knew that this was going to make up the majority of my day... and there was no way I could go in the water with so few bait & buffers at the beach.  I would definitely get eaten if I ventured in on my own.

Problem is that I don't have a beach towel.  Now, I can hardly afford to get one, considering the current state of my already overflowing & hefty backpack... but I figured I would probably need one...  My entire upcoming week is going to be spent at the beach.  Plus... my big, clever plan is to ship some stuff home when I get to Puerto Lopez... right?

Not a beach towel in town.  

I challenge anyone to find one.  You can purchase floaties, beach balls, knitted bikini tops, toy elephants made out of shells, large tacky hats, summer dresses, sippy cups... but no beach towels.  Believe me... Ayangue is a small town... and I went in to EVERY shop.

At first, I didn't know the word for 'towel'... so I attempted to explain exactly what I needed by doing a very convincing & crowd pleasing impression of 'toweling off' despuese del bano... *after the bath...

But alas... no towels... so sand it is and sand it shall be.  One beach bar guy let me sit in his seats, provided I drink beer.  Ahh... the sacrifices we make in life.

Breakfast...

The one thing about this day that was really starting to gnaw at me was my inextinguishable hunger.  I tried to fight it... but who I would have killed for a piece of Lasagna...  and what I would have done for a pep & ched...

Just so that everyone is clear,  this blog post is mostly just me being hungry, angry and cranky... hangkry.

You've been warned.

I have reached a point in my journey where I can not digest ONE more ounce of rice, not one more banana or plantain or empanada...  Absolutely no more 'pan con queso' (*bread with cheese) or scrambled eggs...   I have also eaten my fair share of fried fish & chicken in the past two weeks and I'm done...

I need something different.

And sometimes, understandably (I think), you just want to spruce it up...

*In saying this, I do realize that I made mention earlier about potentially living here, solely for the fried plantains and the multi-coloured toilets... but like most extremists, I ate them (plantains... not toilets) every single day and am now sick of them... 

**But... also, in saying THAT, when I was in Italy, every single day for over a month, I would sit down at lunch and have a caprese salad and a 1/4 litre of red wine.

Guess it's all in what you love, like and are able to tolerate...

Like any diligent traveler, I had a quick look on Google Maps to see exactly what was out there in the culinary world of Ayangue.
Much to my delight... I found a Thai Restaurant AND a Pizzeria... on my way!

Comedor Thalia...

My first thought... I could really go for some Thai.  VERY unusual to find a Thai restaurant in such a small town in Ecuador, but, why not?  It ended up being Comedor Thalia... otherwise known as Thalia's Dining Room.  I'm an idiot.

La DolceVita Pizzeria
Non existent... Do NOT come
to Ayangue for the Pizza

Not to worry... just a couple blocks down was the La Dolce Vita Pizzeria.  I could almost taste it... or maybe I couldn't... because it didn't exist.  I must have circled that 4 block radius about 11 times looking.
Nothing.

I finally succumbed to a bag of Doritos and a Virgin Pina Colada.... that's right, Virgin.  I didn't need alcohol... I needed substance.  Sipping on my Pineapple Coconut concoction, I was caught in the cross fire of 'Cocteleno Theo' and 'Cocteleno Yadira'... two cocktail joints, separated by a mere 3 metres at best... both with their own favourite Spanish hip hop at full density.   It was not a particularly relaxing beach virgin cocktail... 

After a brief nap back at the B&B, I ventured out to find something to eat... again... and at this point, I was starving.  I figured I could eat just about anything... except bananas, rice, scrambled eggs, chicken, fish or cheese... 

I checked out every single menu along the way (they are ALL the same) and finally decided to treat myself to Lobster.  I'm in a coastal town... I'm starving... I like Lobster... it's not toooooooo expensive.  I haven't yet had lobster on this trip... 

Lobster it is.

My choices were- 

• Lobster natural.
• Lobster with garlic.
• Lobster with butter.
• Lobster stuffed.
• Lobster grilled.
• Lobster with rice.
• Lobster with gratin.

I chose the Lobster with garlic.
Couldn't help but think though... what if I wanted Garlic Lobster stuffed AND grilled, served with a side of butter and some rice...?
Come to think of it... we all know that I don't think I'll ever order the 'side of butter' here ever again...

I don't like the menu options... it doesn't leave a lot of room open to be high maintenance.

But lucky for them and probably for me, they were out of lobster.... so I chose the next best thing- and the fastest thing I could decide on while the waiter stood there staring at me.  

I chose Shrimp Spaghetti.

Ok... once again, I apologize for my continual negativity... but... 

1. The spaghetti sauce was a mixture of ketchup and margarine.  I know it. (the waiter even brought me more ketchup in case I wanted to add more... They call ketchup, 'salsa de tomate' which gives you the impression that it's tomato salsa, but it's not...)
2. Rice... again.
3. Deep fried plantains... again.
4. And then... my worst fear came true right in front of my face... cilantro ALL over it.  Tiny, small pieces of cilantro cooked in with all of it.  NOOOOOOO!!!!!!

It's entirely my fault and I accept that.  I'm the idiot that knows that cilantro goes in to every single meal here.  I should have known better. Everything has cilantro. 

I picked at it, moved everything around the plate a few times, tried to pat cilantro off the shrimp with a napkin, dipped shrimp in to my water glass... 

Finally I just surrendered the meal to the flies that I had been desperately trying to fight off the entire time.  They wanted it more than I did.

My final night in Ayangue...

I walked back to the B&B, a shadow of my former self...
Stopped in to a little store and got a bottle of liquid yogurt... another sad attempt to fill the void.

I knew I had a half bottle of red waiting back at the room for me, and that would have to be enough to tie me over until morning.... 

And zero cilantro in that bad boy!

BIG HUGS & NO BORRACHA

I had to part with some very dear friends yesterday...

That’s right… I went through my entire pack and I took out a few items of clothing that were weighing me down… snuck down to the hostel laundry area, and strategically placed them in an area so it looks like I ‘forgot’ them… This was exceedingly difficult, because it's not like I decide to travel with clothes I hate.

Yesterday I might have mentioned something about how tough  it can be traveling as a solo female at times…

• Having to lug around a heavy, large pack on your own because you don't have proper packing insight nor do you have the ability to control your spending when you’re at a local market.

• Having everyone concerned (code for: afraid you'll die) if you want to wander out on your own in the evening.

• Those judgemental looks when you ask for a second glass of vino tinto.  Or a third.  Or a fourth.  God forbid you want a seventh.

• When you’re so incredibly beautiful that men will simply NOT leave you alone day or night…. Thank God I don’t  have that problem… as I think I've got enough going on trying to find a corner store that sells bottles of wine, as well as hauling around this ridiculously heavy pack.

The struggle is real.

I have no idea why I decided to bring so much… I think it's because I only started packing about 4 hours before I had to leave for the airport.

"In a relationship"

It doesn't matter where I go on vacation, or for how long, I always get this notion in my head that I will probably only want to wear the outfits that I never actually wear at home.  And usually, each one of those outfits is slightly too small.

And believe me, I parade around the house in each tiny & tight outfit before adding it in to my luggage, but there is still a voice in my head assuring me that it's going to look fabulous when I arrive at my destination.

I admit it, I have a bad habit of packing below my body weight.  And too much.

One of my greatest fears is losing my luggage, especially here.  I'd be forced out on the streets to buy things like hot pink pants, fake suede stilettos, and extra tights sequin belly shirts that say things like "But first, coffee" and "Actually I am a unicorn."

I'd like to say that I drew this in the
sand after I found wine for sale...
but I didn't.
It was there when I walked by.

No, thank you, sir.

Ok.. back to my actual day's adventure.

I really struggled a lot in the last couple days trying to figure out HOW I was going to get to Ayangue.  It's a teeny tiny town on the coast, and the closest that the bus gets is pulling over and dumping you on the side of the road.  Then life becomes survival of the fittest as you're forced to find your own way in to town... 2.5km.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I am always up for  a challenge… unless it’s this particular challenge.  I really didn't want to have to walk that far in the scorching & paralyzing heat, carrying the worlds most massive & burdensome backpack… along with all my other necessities in life... purse, beach bag…

I checked Uber… no cars available…
Zero taxis.

So… I decided to wing it. 

I caught a taxi outside fiesta central (that's my new name for the hostel I stayed at) and my plan was to go to the bus terminal in Santa Elena... and just try to figure it out from there.

Maybe hitchhike?  Pray that some non-creepy, doesn’t-want-to-murder-me person takes pity on me, and might possibly pick me up & deliver me, in one piece, with all my stuff, to my B&B...

I’m tough… I can do it.

This was the dashboard of my taxi... 
Carpet?  Fur?

Tip for future travellers - don’t ever find yourself in this predicament.  Go where the buses go… don’t book cute Air B&B’s in the middle of nowhere if you don't have a rental car or a ride!

The taxi driver that pulled over to pick me up for the first leg of my journey offered to drive me all the way to Ayangue for ONLY $20. Boom!  Drive on, new best friend.

I actually gave him $30 for sparing me the dread and the misery.

See?  Things DO work out.  And if they don’t, then it’s usually chalked up to a long day or a sudden lack of funds... but it's almost always a great story.

Big Hugs!

He drove me straight to the door of Casa Nautilus - remember?  The people that were the ones basically set to build a wall to keep me out because of their loss of faith in foreigners?  ... ahhh... the memories.  The lady was very sweet though.  Big hugs to me.  In fact, I'm going to refer to her as 'Big Hugs' from now on.

The taxi driver wouldn’t leave until I had the telephone number of everyone in his family, because he’s convinced that I’m going to phone him on Tuesday to drive me from Ayangue to Puerto Lopez for $60… The bus goes for $3.  Yep.  Just wait by the phone... 

Actually, I have a sneaky suspicion that he might just show up.  Stay tuned.

My accommodation is right on the beach… and it seems like a pretty secure, safe and quiet location.  I even went for a walk, and about 20 minutes away, I suddenly had a panic attack realizing that maybe I hadn't locked my room.  Instead of running back, which I normally would do, I kept walking, convincing myself that my stuff would be fine... and it was.

So after that breakthrough, I left everything in the room and went out to play in the waves for an hour of so.

This is BIG for me.  Especially by myself.

I’m scared of sharks. Petrified.  It takes a LOT for me to go in to the ocean, and even then, I never go in over my head.

To me, every shadow is a shark.  Every wave that breaks, a shark is behind it. Everything that touches me is a shark skimming past me. The only time I feel remotely safe is if I'm surrounded by shark buffers or if there is someone further out in the water that looks more like a seal than I do.

I’ve never scuba dived… 

I’ve snorkelled, but only briefly, ensuring that there is always someone directly beside me that I could toss to the shark, if push came to shove.

When I was in Australia, a bunch of did a 3 day tour through the Whitsunday Islands.  For some reason, I was below deck doing something dumb, and the boat had anchored. All of my friends had jumped off the boat and began their swim (about 25 metres) towards the reefs/coral/whatever… to snorkel.

When I eventually came up on deck, everyone was gone.  The deck hands kept saying, “just jump.”  

Just jump?  In to deep, dark, unknown ocean water... by myself?  In the exact location that I KNOW sharks are feeding...??  I would have had a heart attack before I even hit the water.  I begged them to take me over in the dingy… but they weren’t having any of it.  It’s terrifying (and funny) to even think about it still.  Australia - capital of sharks… jump in?  No, thanks.

Eventually my friends turned around to come back and get me, which was nice.  I doubt they’d have been so nice had they known that each and every one of them was merely a bait buffer. They go first.

To drink here or not?
That is the question...

There is a bamboo beach bar directly outside my hotel.  As soon as I saw it, Big Hugs gave me a stern warning NOT to drink there because I would get sick.  The exact word was 'enfermos' and she made a nauseated facial expression while rubbing her tummy.

Hmmm… hangover sick or Malaria sick?  

Couldn’t figure it out, so maybe I’ll steer clear of that place considering I haven’t yet taken the necessary precautions and got me a damn mosquito net yet!  Plus… I already checked it out and they don’t have any wine on their menu.

I also haven't got a hat... and I've noticed that my scalp is slightly sunburn pink... which I am hoping might kill off any lice that I may have contracted at fiesta central.

I did see Boiled Banana Balls on a sign for breakfast and right there, it struck me down again... the thought and taste of margarine churning & rotting in my body.  This will NOT go away without a fight...

But now... I sit here in my little Utopia… the power is out for some reason and the wifi is gone.  Figures.  I managed to find a lovely bottle of wine and I borrowed a cup from Big Hugs.   I think that after the mean email that she sent me last month, she OWES me a cup.  

She did make a point to say "No Borracha"… (translation- "Don't get drunk") so there goes my big plan for the evening....

Guess I could always wander out in to the night for some deep fried bananas... but I had them again today at lunch.

Life is tough…

DUMP ME AT THE BEACH

I have now made my way out of Guayaquil...

Exciting! ... onwards & upwards to new adventures!

Leaving day - Krystel, Dana, Mari, Mami y yo!

It was a slow process, but I felt a little bit like I was turning in to the Littlest Hobo.

I was originally supposed to leave Guayaquil on Monday, but decided to change it to Sunday, so as not to rush myself heading up the coast.  Then I would have 2 days in Ayangue, 2 days in Puerto Lopez and 2 in Canoa... before heading back to Quito.  I’d even thought of extending it to leaving even earlier, but I knew we had a Saturday beach day planned… so I left my departure for Sunday.

On Friday evening, Mari said to me that she couldn’t decide if we were going to go to Playas or Salinas... for the beach.  I thought about it for a while and then said, “If we are going to Salinas, I might as well stay the night there and then continue up the coast from there.”

Seemed a bit silly to travel 2 hours trip west to Salinas, and then come all the way back to Guayaquil, only to do it all over again the next day.  The smarts win again and, yes, it was decided… we would go to Salinas… go to the beach and then dump me off somewhere on the road.  *metaphorically...

It was time to go anyway.  I had been there since last Thursday and my feet were getting itchy.  I had to keep exploring.  Plus… don't they say that company is like fish?  After 3 or 4 days, they start to smell.

Well, I could almost smell myself.

But… sometimes life doesn’t always end up the way it’s planned.  Mari’s car wouldn’t start that morning and that sent everyone in to a tizzy.  Duval came to the rescue and agreed it was the battery that, more than likely, needed to be replaced.  I wasn't exactly sure what exactly was going on- only fearing that the day may end up as more of a family outing to the local mechanic shop, as opposed to a fun day at the beach... 

Probably would have been better for my burn...

My back seat buddy!

Mari decided to skip the beach and take her car in... and it would be Duval & Pamela driving me to Salinas.  Thank GOD!!!  I was envisioning me hobbling out of Guayaquil, pack dragging behind me, holding a sign that read "Playa por favour!"  

It was very sweet of them to do so,  considering it was about 30 minutes out of their way for their own family weekend vacation.

Get the Gringa outta here!

It was sad saying goodbye to everyone.  What an amazing family!  I am so grateful that they ended up being my host family... and I appreciate & love them all so much.  They were so lovely to me this week... words can not express... and I really do hope that it’s not another 26 years until I see them again.

They can't get rid of me now!

So - on to Salinas… again.  I was here 26 years ago, but instinct told me that it had changed a lot.  I was right.

There were high-rises & nightclubs & beach umbrellas & tourists as far as the eye could see.  In fact, it was almost like a cross between Hawaii's Waikiki, Portugal's Algarve, the place that Stag was filmed, the place that Birdcage was filmed, and of course... typical Ecuador.

To say the least, it was busy.

Not a big fan of busy- but I made the most of it.  I walked up and down the beach & the promenade.  I desperately wanted to go in the water because it was so clear & turquoise & beautiful & warm & inviting & hard to resist, but I couldn’t exactly just leave my stuff lying on the beach, unattended…

It’s tough traveling solo, sometimes...

The fear & anxiety of having/losing these four things can literally break me:

• Passport.
• Wallet - with money, ID , credit card, debit card.
• Computer.
• Key for wherever I'm staying.

I have those things with me, usually everywhere I go.  And I constantly check that they are still there... in my bag... safe.  If someone were to follow me around on a regular basis while I travel, they would think that I was nursing a small puppy in my bag, for the amount of time I check it.  Now, yes, I could have left stuff in the room, but that didn’t super sit well with me either.  So far I have proven to have chosen poorly in the hostel department.

1. Quito - amazing.
2. Cuenca - super shit.
3. Salinas - family AND party.  I’ll explain that further because I understand that it must be confusing to see the words 'family' and 'party' bundled together.  Strange, but true... If it wasn’t kids screaming and crying ALL day - it was loud music and partying all night.  ALL night.  

I woke up at 3am and at 4am (and a few times in between & before and after...) and the party was still going strong... and very loudly. At the hostel pub, in the streets of Salinas... in the hallways outside my room...

BIG TIP: Don’t be fooled by the cute photos & rave reviews on the web!  Research!!!

Now if 19 year old me heard what 45 year old me was saying about this hostel, 19 year old me would have slapped 45 year old me... because all I ever wanted to do was party when I was 19.  Now that I am 45, all I still ever want to do is party... but not loudly... and not late... maybe till around 10 or 11pm... with wine and a few friends... and the music turned down.
  
But maybe 19 year old me wouldn't have slapped 45 year old me too hard, because even 19 year old me hated screaming children.

See the line down my nose???
No idea what it is.  Maybe a sign of too much
wine... or a sign of withdrawal?

I stopped along the pier and had wine.  Yippee!  Back on the sauce again.  Had been going though a bit of withdrawal lately.

I figure that one day I'm going to have to give it up for good, so until that happens, I might as well drink as much as I can now.

Make sense?

The fact that I'm in a country that doesn't necessarily celebrate or embrace wine is silly, if you ask me.  I figure that it's close enough to Argentina and Chile to make that point moot.

I also had some patacones for lunch/dinner (fried green plantains) - so fruit for dinner basically vetos out the wine.... right?  I think so, anyway.

Ok… quick rant session…

• I am drinking a LOT of water while I’m here… and it’s almost like people are looking down on me for it.  I have never been in a place where people really try to push the jugo and cola on you so much.  It's almost alien.

• Everything is covered in plastic.  Tables and chairs are lined & draped with beautiful clothe and then... covered in plastic.  And then it's hot and you sweat and then you stick to the plastic.  Arms, legs, bum, face... it all sticks...  Personally, I would rip plastic off everything.  I'd have a rule... no plastic in my hot house.  Ever.

• Alarms - day and night, night and day. House, car… whatever.  Everywhere you go.  Everywhere.  No one cares.  I just can't believe alarms have made it this far in society.  When one goes off... no one flinches.  No one.  Zero.  Everyone just continues on with whatever they were doing to begin with... though slightly more irritated now.   Go ahead, thieves... rob away.  NO one is paying attention.  No one cares.

• Diet Coke?  Coca Light... isn't this a thing here?  Maybe this is more of a  blessing than a rant.  I’d probably be drinking more Diet Coke and less water, if it were here and readily available.

Ok.  Rants over...

LOVE

On our way in to Salinas today, we passed a number of 'bathroom' stores that had yellow, blue and pink toilets on display.  

How come we can't have those at home???

I think that besides the deep fried green plantains coated with rock salt & cheese, the colourful toilet would be the one other thing that would tempt me to live here...