From Peru to Ecuador

I stayed up most of the night of the 29th packing and preparing to leave my apartment in Lima. I had called my landlord on the 27th under the impression I could talk my way into sauntering out on the morning of the 1st. No dice, apparently he didn't let me in early as I had assumed, and the jig was up on the 30th. No problem, I booked a bus ticket online to Guayaquil that day. Ok, only one problem, the bus ticket printed and delivered to my email was erroneous, charging me the right price, but giving me a final destination of Trujilo, Peru about one third of the way on the same route. I knew traveling would be impossible on the 1st as both Peru and Ecuador have national holidays, so I spent an hour on the phone hotline the email confirmation provided. The guy ended up telling me he would call me back the next day. He didn't. The customer support email address apparently didn't even exist. Nonetheless I knew the bus to Guayaquil was supposed to leave at 2:30 in the afternoon on the 30th so instead of getting to the bus station for 8pm to catch my mal-assigned ticket, I showed up just after noon and explained the situation to the company's front desk as best I could. In about ten minutes I had a changed ticket at no cost, leaving now at 2:45 (either the original was moved back or this one wasn't offered online). A very smooth resolution to obstacle number one.

I had bought a "VIP" seat on the bus, which is to say, I was not in the sardine seats on the top floor. I have had a very weak stomach for auto or bus travel for the past few years and I immediately got nauseous after take off. This lasted more or less four hours and wasn't as intense as I've handled before so I was fine, though the first ten minutes of the drive were the most intense; I was wondering if I was going to make it out of Lima, much less to Ecuador. My strategy didn't involve taking any pills which I was happy about. I simply didn't eat, for about 16 hours before we left, and then for the whole bus trip (27 hours) all I had were some soda crackers. I don't think this is a sustainable strategy, but I kept myself hydrated and felt fine, its not like we were doing anything to work up an appetite watching Cinderella Man in Spanish between doze offs. We drove all day and through the night across the arid craggy dunes that make up coastal Peru. At 3 am we cruised by a roadside accident, a tourist bus just like ours had its entire front end smashed in, presumably by the nearby logging truck, a scene that gave the suggestion of casualties. In the ten meters of road between the askew vehicles was a bonfire and a semicircle of passengers enduring a long night.

We approached the Ecuadorian border around noon Friday, and the bus supervisor came round to inspect everyone's documents. He double taked between me and my tourist ID card, which said I had 90 days to enjoy Peru after January 20th, 2011. "Tu sabes esta para Febrero, Marzo, y Abril?" "Claro," I replied, which in this situation just sort of means yeah I know what I'm doing. Anyways I definitely didn't know what I was doing but I wasn't too worried. When we got to the roadside office that was the border control the immigration officer had a similar reaction, pulling me out and expressing me to the front of the queue. Apparently I was the creator of paperwork, but said officer in charge was quite gregarious, bustling me around without any consternation, but definitely an air of bewilderment about why I would overstay so long. The main stumbling block was one I hadn't conceived of, that in order to pay the fine I had to get the ticket cancelled at a bank, I couldn't do it at the office (greasing palms not being an apparent option). I was ushered into a local mototaxi (think rickshaw meets motorcycle) and was off to the races while the rest of the group waited. We arrived at the bank about ten minutes later, somewhere around 1230 in the afternoon. The security guard on hand told me and the driver the bank was closed. I assumed it was for almuerzo (lunch) and asked when it was going to open again (envisioning me losing favour with my fellow passengers as they waited on me).

"Lunes" (Monday)

They were going to be waiting a long time indeed! The driver said some things on my behalf that were too quick for my ears and I told the security guard it was important I use the bank (they had just closed, we gathered, and people were still settling things up inside). He went in and came back out a few minutes later, unlocked the gate, and told me to be quick. I thanked him, hustled in, and jogged into the managers office off to the side of the counter where he processed my ticket. The fine was 255USD, one dollar for every day overstayed. I had the money prepared. Like I said before in this space, the law doesn't discourage tourists from overstaying and continuing to contribute to the economy, it discourages poor people from overstaying. Everyone was extremely welcoming to me, as Peruvians are want to in situations like these. I shook the bank managers hand, slapped the security guard on the back with a smile, ran outside, and hopped back on the mototaxi to the border station. The group was waiting on me, but not too long. When I re-entered their company I joked to my row mate that I was an "hombre peligroso."

Ecuadorian immigration is also just a building along the highway with one service window. On the dustswept roadside a few bodegas surrounded the office, canopies of tarp or serrated tin slats make for commodious shade. Dogs and cats lope around with no direction, only the immaculate (and unattended) rooster seems to move with purpose and energy. Teenage boys bike up and down the highway shirtless, a feat sure to fry anyone not possessing a deeply browned complexion. A family dotes over a toddler, changing him on a stand usually reserved for selling pineapples (you can't make this stuff up), but whose owner took off early for new year's celebrations if he showed up at all. The change complete, the seven pile into a boxy red car made for five that I could only identify as late 70s soviet bloc. Two stunning girls make their way across the highway to a shop and a restaurant, confident the immigration line would be a while. They aren't shy about their beauty, but they don't strut. The Peruana ideal; long well kept hair, brown highlighted auburn, generous cleavage of the spaghetti strap variety, and loose yoga capris. Their skin is coloured evenly across the parts one would assume don't see as much exposure, in the rich light brown tone a Canadian blond would die for but always seems to miss orange, a darkness light enough that everyone knows they are Peruana Latinas with enough Spanish blood to turn heads in any circle. They don't hide behind large sunglasses or make up, content in themselves and content should a young man be caught staring.

Once we arrived in Guayaquil I hauled my stuff to the bus station food court and relieved my light head with some arroz con pollo (chicken and rice) before grabbing a taxi to the downtown square. From there I oriented myself with my guidebook's map, headed to a recommended budget hotel a few blocks away, and got a nice air conditioned room for 35 bucks. Easy game. After a shower and a shave I was ready to go out for the couple hours before midnight and soak in the New Year's atmosphere in a new city and country. Instead I passed out and woke up at 6 the next morning :).

Salud y Suerte mis amigos

Gareth