Elizabeth got us up for breakfast and had the taxi at the door just before we were supposed to depart. She had bought the bus tickets in advance and we jumped on it just before it pulled out of the station. It was both air-conditioned and roomy. Having been hot and steamy for days, we really, REALLY appreciated it. We had Washington's phone number (our host for the next week), Elizabeth had packed some lunch, and we felt very cared for. The trip was comfortable with the usual long line of vendors hopping on at each stop, pitching their wares, one of them even doing some sort of evangelism while he was selling candy and soliciting contributions. They have a way of handing you the packaged candy or cookies or chips in what seems to be a gift and then giving their pitch at the front of the bus and coming back later asking you to pay for it. What is amazing to me is that it seems to work.
One woman earlier on in our journey had even climbed the bus to tell people she was out of money and needed a bus ticket home, and could they please help her. I couldn't see how people were responding, but this came back to mind as this gentleman was selling his "candy-sweet" gospel. This time people really did respond, and he was very grateful. It's not that we haven't seen this before. In Chicago on the Els it used to be very, very common. But Chicago put a stop to it. Here there were at least ten vendors walking through the bus with some local food at the major stops, and at least four or five at the small ones. It seems that a bus coming through town (no matter how small the bus or the town) is a major income opportunity for people. If it's not working, why does it continue?
The scenery we saw was very, very beautiful on this trip. Many banana plantations dot the route through the foothills of the Andes. As you get near the coast, the landscape changes to sand, agave and sagebrush--desert-types. Manta is a pretty big town. When we arrived, we telephoned Washington and he said he would meet us at the bus station. We waited about half an hour and then called him again. Which station are you in? he asked. Oh dear, there are TWO bus stations in Manta, and this is the station where only one bus line comes in. He had thought we would arrive in the main one. Only a few minutes later, he drove up in a car that was new in the 1980's--or earlier, we could not tell. Vincent called it a MacGyver vehicle, from the popular science show way back. However, it ran well and held seven of us at a time as we bounced and jounced over the rutted roads. There were so many things wrong with the body of this vehicle, and he starts it by jumping two wires hanging out of the dash. Vincent just laughed and laughed when Washington said we had to fasten our seat belts because the police would fine him $25 if we didn't. Vincent was thinking to himself, what about the hood that comes unlatched and flies up whenever the fancy strikes? And the doors that barely close? And the rust all around the frame that promises one day passengers in this vehicle will be dumped out onto the road? Apparently, those are not a problem in Ecuador--just unfastened seat belts.
Washington is a diminutive man--about five feet tall and 110 pounds. We knew he had been very ill for several years before we met him, and he later told us he had lost 90 pounds and then as he got better added about thirty. He showed us pictures of himself before this disease had taken its toll, and there was a short, muscular, sturdy looking fellow with a mustache looking out at us. He looks very different from the picture now. It is some type of disease similar to hepatitis, but his cells are attacking each other as if they were not part of the same organism. We knew very little of this at the time, though. His wife Alba is very beautiful, in her early 30's. They have three children, Pamela 16, Jorge 14, and Daniel 3. Pame (PAH-may) sat in the back seat of the car with me as we bounced along toward their home. We connected very well--she is the same age as my granddaughter, Amber.
Washington is a great joker and has a lively sense of humor. He enjoyed teasing us about our lack of Spanish, but it was very gentle, so we didn't feel offended. Pame had given up her room for us. Theirs is a simple home they have built themselves, always full of people--neighbors and relatives, just stopping by for a chat or a meal. Most of the homes here are built of concrete block and finished iside with plaster over the blocks. Alba cooked for us three times a day, and piled our plates with mountains of food. This first night, we could not say no. We did our best to eat what she had cooked, but honestly, a troop of soldiers carrying full gear could have feasted on what she gave each one of us. Daniel was a delight. He has a million-dollar smile, we told Washington. Daniel loves old cowboy series like Bonanza and High Chaparral, also James Bond and Johnny English. Remember these, because they will figure largely in the next week. Daniel also loves riding his mother's broom (read: horse) all around the kitchen and living room. This we learned on day one.
There was no internet access in the house, but their family owns an internet cafe three doors down, so if we were really stuck, we could go down there. We learned later that there is (somewhat spotty) internet access on the roof of their house, very close to the edge, so we went up there most times, except in the rain, which on the coast of Ecuador is torrential, and no one goes out in it if it can be helped.
There are three Bajos right in a row, Washington explained. Theirs is the last of the series. The other two are "Bajo" (under) something else. This one had the usual complement of dogs and chickens running around. Washington and Alba have a rooster and a bunch of hens, all of whom are seriously dominated by the rooster and hens from Washington's mother's and older sister's house next door. They are also raising two pigs, who get all the family's leftovers.
After dinner, Vincent went with several family members to visit Alba's family, while I tried to tune into my lessons in Washington's mother's house next door. For some reason, I couldn't connect there consistently, so I gave up and went back to the house. Vincent returned and we went to sleep in Pame's room, without noticing the large yellow mosquito net in one corner of the room. Well, I say not noticing, but it was more like having no clue what it was for. There were hooks on the walls to tie the corners to so it would be held up like a tent over the bed. Why? Well, of course, because there are mosquitoes on any southern coast, even in the U.S.--even in Evanston, where we live. However, Evanston has trucks that go around after the rains spraying pesticide fog all around. Roads here have deep potholes that fill with rain, and no amount of spraying would help. So duh, we got bitten all night, a tasty feast of thick North American and Irish blood for the local vampires. I mean, mosquitoes. By morning, we were very, very swollen and itchy in places.
No comments:
Post a Comment