______________________________________________________________________
Earlier this month, my more-than-neighbor Amanda and I took a little trip. We traveled to the province of Esmeraldas, which is on the northern coast of Ecuador.
The reason for our travels was threefold:
1) To run in the Reto 21x24, a fundraiser supporting the preservation of Yasuní National Park. Anyone can support the cause by participating in the 21k runs held each month in a different province of Ecuador. Of which there are 24. Hence the name "21x24." (You're so lucky I'm here to explain these things to you!)
2) To partake of the northern coastal cuisine. And by golly, we partook.
3) Coast = beach. Beach = uninhibited naptime, crossword puzzle-time, and snacktime, all rolled into one.
So we packed our bags and got on a bus to Esmeraldas.
I let Amanda do most of the navigating, just so she could feel important.
NOT.
I let Amanda do most of the navigating, because if I had been in charge, we'd have ended up in Peru. Which is south of here. (Hey, I know that much at least.)
Anyway, I didn't have a map. But if I were to have had a map, it would have looked like this:
Only the sea and the land would be reversed, because we were on the Pacific coast and the ocean is to the west. Lewis & Clark just rolled over in their graves because I typed their names next to this "map."
We started off in Esmeraldas city, which happens to be the capitol of Esmeraldas province. We arrived there early in the morning and hopped into a cab, anxious to find a good place to eat and do a little adventuring. The guidebook didn't have much to say about Esmeraldas, but we figured at least we'd walk around and get to know the place.
One hour later saw us, having wolfed down a hasty breakfast, in a cab headed straight back to the bus terminal.
It seemed that everywhere we turned that morning, down one street or another, we received verbal warnings or the flickering finger gesture that signals "beware thieves." It's very dangerous for you to be walking here, we were told by various residents. This was around 9am, in broad daylight. Upon further reflection, I've concluded that these warnings may have reached us because (a) we two gringas stood out even more than usual in a city that is largely populated by Afro-Ecuadorians; (b) we had no local contact to walk with us and show us the ropes - so I suppose we should be grateful for these self-appointed guardians; and (c), maybe the place really was that dangerous for us.
In any case, we decided the best course of action was to get the heck out of dodge.
We moved on to the beach towns of Súa and Atacames and spent the next couple days soaking up the sun - while wearing SPF 50, of course.
Atacames is the larger of the two beach towns, and as such it attracts more tourists. While we did spot a few gringos, most of the tourists were other Ecuadorians from Quito and the Sierra. They filled the hotels, the restaurants, and the streets. There were lots of people. And there weren't very many public restrooms. So it's no wonder that, on the one afternoon when I really had to go, every restaurant and hotel into which I walked and batted my eyes was unimpressed by my gringa charms.
Some of you are thinking - but you're too discreet to actually say it - Jordan, the ocean's right there.
Well, the ocean was cold.
And now, moving on to less embarrassing matters. Here is something we ate in Atacames:
This is chicharrón de coco, aka coconut strips fried in panela (whole cane sugar). It is divine.
Neighboring beach town Súa afforded a much calmer scene (as well as a bathroom: we crashed at another volunteer's house). And here is a view of said volunteer's backyard:
Boats, a river (creek?), mangroves. And in the mangroves, lots and lots of these:
Finally, it was in Súa that we ate the most delicious shrimp soup I have ever eaten and likely will ever eat in my life. With every spoonful, we tried to figure out the secret ingredient. Coconut milk...some kind of spices...yummmmm... Eventually we gave up and just savored it.
Two days later, as we were leaving Súa, we attempted to go back for one more bowl of ambrosia - but the fates were against us, as we arrived too early for lunch. The elusive shrimp soup still haunts my dreams.
The day before our 21x24 run, we decided to scout out part of the course. The starting point was located in the next beach town over, Same (pronounced SAH-may). Same is the Beverly Hills of Esmeraldas beach towns. I'm not sure what I mean by that, exactly, other than that it's fancy-schmancy. It's upscale. Top-notch. While a typical Ecuadorian beach is crowded with people, and with rows of umbrellas and beach chairs for rent, Same had wide open spaces. Instead of dozens of beach vendors walking up and down hawking their wares, there were one or two ice cream stands. Instead of music blaring from fifty nearby cabanas, Same offered the sound of waves lapping upon the shore. Same had calmer waters and softer sand.
We looked around us in awe at the sparkling resorts and upscale clientele, feeling extremely out of our element. Then we shrugged our shoulders and set off walking down the beach in the direction of the 21k course. We hoped to reach Playa Escondida, which is where the course would end.
We walked. And we walked. And we walked.
It was a beautiful walk, and along the way we passed a number of people. In fact, we knew one of them:
Menchie was chilling on a piece of driftwood, soaking up some rays and enjoying the view. We had a nice little chat and then left him to his relaxation.
Then, we walked. And we walked. And we walked.
Eventually we saw a town. "Hey, do you think that's Playa Escondida?" we asked each other. Twenty minutes later, we reached the town and experienced what it feels like to arrive somewhere with no idea where you are, and only the faintest idea of what time of day it is. And then we started second guessing ourselves as to the date, and the year, and then we looked at each other and asked, Who are we? It brought back all the stories in which someone becomes separated from and then re-enters society - Rip Van Winkel, Robinson Crusoe, etc. - and I felt a certain kinship with these displaced characters as I brushed off my sandy feet, walked into a restaurant, and asked the waiter, "Excuse me sir, but could you please tell me where I am?"
He looked at me as if I were strange and then explained that we were in the town of Tonchigüe. There was no hope of reaching Playa Escondida and then getting back before dark, so he gave us directions to catch the bus back home for the night and described how he and the other waiters and the owner of the restaurant scuba dive to harvest the seafood they prepare and serve to patrons. Yum.
Then we went home and prepared a spaghetti meal before the 21k in the morning.
Then the power went out, so we scrapped the spaghetti idea and used our boiled water to make oatmeal instead.
Then we thanked our lucky stars that the power was out, because the cabanas could no longer blast music at us all night long, and then we fell asleep.
The next morning saw us up early and back at Same beach. We met up with the group of runners and took off down the beach for a couple kilometers before making our way inland to follow the winding course toward Playa Escondida.
The challenge was 21k. I was a wimp: I tapped out at 5k in one of the small towns along the way and hitched a ride with some of the support crew, who were along to take pictures and hand out water and bananas. It was interesting being part of the support crew. I got to see things like this:
This poor guy got robbed just before the start of the race, as he was on his way to the beach. He was wearing warmup pants at the time, and his running shorts were in his backpack, which got stolen. Rather than give up on the 21k run he had trained and prepared for, he decided to heck with it and ran the whole way in his skivvies.
Now that's dedication.
For more photos of the run (some even featuring yours truly), visit the Reto 21x24 website here.
Being a bum and riding with the support crew also afforded me the opportunity to take a better look at the surrounding countryside. One particular stretch of the course ran past a grove of beautiful trees, tall with thin, papery bark and two-toned leaves. I was told that these were teca, teakwoods, and that their wood is very valuable here.
Finally, we reached the aptly named Playa Escondida (Hidden Beach). And even though I only ran 5k, I still got swag along with the rest of 'em: medals, T-shirts, etc. Playa Escondida sits on a natural reserve and boasts a nice, quiet cove with wading pools and a lovely view of the open sea. The one hotel/resort there is owned by a friendly Canadian who offered us lemonade and fried plantains after the run.
After the run, Amanda and I did some creative bus riding up and down between towns in an effort to get tickets back home. It involved trips in both directions, from Súa to Atacames to Esmeraldas back to Atacames back to Esmeraldas. Pretty much everyone else who was at the beach that weekend was trying to leave town as well, but we lucked out and obtained our tickets in the end.
Finally, we got on a bus taking us to the main terminal to head home. It was so crowded that we had to sit up front with the driver. Amanda was next to him, and I was sitting on the floor with my legs dangling down the steps. We were content: we had bus tickets home, we had a good view out the window at the moment, and we had snacks.
But then - the driver kept stopping to let more and more people onto the bus. They kept piling in, dumping buckets and backpacks and bags up front with us and the driver before packing themselves into the aisle in the back. Eventually, there was no more room in the aisle, so they started standing on the tiny stairs by the door of the bus. Eventually, they reached the door of the bus. Eventually, there was literally no more room for anyone to stand or sit.
I was curled up in a little ball on the floor by the stairs, and everyone else was packed in like sardines, with a hand thrust out for strategic support here and there. Once one got accustomed to the discomfort, it actually became quite cozy. Currently, it remains my favorite bus experience in this country.
That about wraps things up. We made it home safe and sound, and now we're looking forward to next month's run and the opportunity to explore another part of the country.
Craving shrimp soup,
me
