Bass Thumping & Beach Bumming: The Coast

Being on the beach will always remind me of childhood summers spent on the maritime coast. It will remind me of being buried in the sand, of filling my plastic beach bucket with raspberry coloured jellyfish, of salty skin.

There are of course, some significant differences between the Canadian Atlantic Coast and the Ecuadorian Pacific Coast. Namely, the violence of the waves, the prevalence of tourists and goods-sellers, and the temperature (an unrelenting heat). Namely, everything.

Our coastal trip started with Montanita. Things had changed a bit since the last time I had been there. When Samir and I had been, it was during the off-season for both tourists and strong tides. This time around, prices were doubled, as were the height and strength of the waves. To save money, seven of my friends and I crammed into one room in a bargain hostel right on the main strip. Nice and central, we thought. Pleasantly active, we reasoned. Our mistake.

The first night we were there, I slept with two earplugs...IN EACH EAR! At one point in the middle of the night, I resorted to wrapping a sweater around my head, in my frustration to keep the street beat out. Multiply that by four nights.

During the day, Montanita still treated us well. We ate wholesome and deliciously at my favourite organic-vegetarian restaurant, "Cafe del Mar", run by a kind and wirey ex-Brit, Mel. The beach was wonderful and sunny, but the tides were perilously strong. Every morning a general announcement echoed across the town to beware of the undertow, and only strong swimmers were advised to go advised to go in past their knees.

Being a strong swimmer (and about a foot taller than most South Americans), I reasoned that I could go in past my knees. This was all fine and good, and I had a blast being tussled by the waves and snorting lots of sea water. On the third day (the day that I had originally planned to use my surfing lesson IOU given to me by my friends for my birthday), I went out for a morning swim as usual. As a rule, I always tried to stay close enough to the shore so that my feet could touch. However, I never realized that a strong tide could carry you far enough so as to break this rule without even realizing it.

This is what happened to me that day, and one second, I was standing with the water just reaching my shoulders, and the next second, I was over my head. Realizing this was not scary at first, and I started to paddle calmly closer to shore. All of a sudden, a huge wave came up behind me, pushed me under, and made me somersault inside the wave until my chin slammed against the ocean floor. I was totally disoriented and didn't even know which way was up, but I managed to find the ground with my feet and pushed up as hard as I could. I came up coughing water and managed to take one deep breath just as another huge wave of equal force pushed and twisted me under again. At this point I was thoroughly terrified and still had no idea how far I had gotten from the shore. I made it to the surface again, and this time had enough time to prepare for the next wave. This time, I swam as hard as I could to stay on top of the wave rather than be sucked under again, and let it help to carry me back to the shore. When the tide receded, I swam my hardest against the current so as not to be carried backwards again. I did this until I could touch the ground, and then I shakily walked back to the shore, coughing, spitting, and snorting out water.

Needless to say, the experience shook me significantly and decided against the surfing lessons. I donated my birthday money instead to a stray animal program Mel was trying to start up to have dogs neutered to prevent the excessive pregnancies and subsequent inhumane killing of unwanted litters that is so common in Ecuador.

I made myself go back in the ocean the next day so as not to perpetuate a fear of water, but if the water passed my belly button, I retreated a bit closer to the shore. With the ocean, it helps to have a little humility...

The next stop was Ayampe, mecca of perfect tranquility and heavenly food. We took a bus from Montanita and as we were getting off, Galban (the famous cook), was just getting on to do some errands in the nearby town. He recognized me immediately and was incredibly happy to hear that I was coming to stay with my friends.


We were in Ayampe for three nights, none of which I used earplugs. Ayampe is not quiet per se, as it buzzes and chirps and hums with birds and bugs and frogs, but that is just my type of lullabye... Galban, his wife Sandra Elena, and their son Kevin were all extremely sweetand welcoming, and when it was time to leave, I felt like I was leaving something behind. Ayampe is a place that will always both calm and warm my spirit.

Our last destination along the coast was Canoa, just three buses, a ferry, another bus, and a bicycle rickshaw away. Aside from being an amazing stretch of sand with lovely lukewarm water, Canoa brought the extra benefit of reuniting me with my long time best buddy, Julia Stanfield. Jules had been living in Cuba for the past couple months and had come down to Ecuador to do some travelling. It was so wonderful meeting up with her, and we spent the next couple of days catching up and catching sun. Most of my friends tried surfing in Canoa, and although I was proud of them for trying, I still wasn't ready for it.

After our weeked in Canoa, it was time to head East, away from the coast and up to the sierra to Ecuador's capital, Quito. At the end of our ten days spent in various beach towns, we were all brown-skinned, crunchy-salty-haired, and stubbornly sandy (you know, like you blow your nose and sand comes out...for days!). We had to say goodbye to both the waves and our friend Emily (who was parting ways to meet up with visiting parents), both which were hard, but we were all excited to see the capital...

...We were also excited to stop finding sand in our undies.

Coasting on the Coast (Vacacion Parte Uno)

Vacations are bittersweet. They have a funny way of twisting the vacater into believing that sleeping in everyday is normal, that reading a good book is the most strenuous activity one should partake in. Ever. The longer you have to settle into this mindset, the more difficult it is to rouse yourself out of this luxurious sedation when it comes time.

My vacation was five weeks. I will spare you the details of the depth and breadth of my resentment towards going back to work.

Last day of classes were on November 30th. My first semester of teaching went extremely well, and although the term was sprinkled with a few challenging students, a handful of boring lessons, and a couple of jokes that flopped in class (bruising my teacher-come-comedian ego), in general the kids were bright, the class discussions were candid, and I did manage to get a couple of laughs from my students, believe it or not.

I spent the first few days of my break just hanging out with my apartment mates, occasionally breaking to read by the river in front of our complex. On December 4th, my friend Samir arrived from Toronto, who came to visit for just over two weeks. Having been to Ecuador before, Samir was able to create a wonderful little itinerary for us as we pueblo-hopped from town to town along the "Ruta del Sol". The Route of the Sun is basically just a line-up of coastal cities that tourists can go to to get some sun on their skin, some sand in their swim trunks, and some excellent surfing conditions.

Guayaquil was our first destination after leaving Cuenca. We only stayed there one night because neither of us particularly like the city, so it was really more of a stopping point . Guayaquil is the biggest city in Ecuador, hosting about 6 million citizens, mostly in sprawling slums. It is a port city, and rather lives up to its reputation by being fairly rough and hostile. I have a fairly negative view of the place, but take it with a grain of salt as I haven't spent a lot of time there to really educate my opinion. To its justice, some parts of the city are pretty nice and there are tons of things to do. Samir and I went to the Museo Antropologico y de Arte Contemporaneo and saw one of the best modern art exhibits I've seen in my life. Guayaquil is known as being "the bad seed of Ecuador", but it adds some spice.

The next stop was a tiny pueblito named "Ballenita", which actually means "little whale"...But then again, "burrito" means "little donkey" so direct translations don't always make the most sense. To my knowledge, there are no miniature whales in Ballenita. Samir and I stayed at a beautiful hotel called Farallon Dillon, which is really more of a nautical museum than a hotel. Every corner is filled with some kind of marine treasure, and the place is run by a retired sea captain (who looks suspiciously like Captain Highliner, Mascot of the Frozen Fish Sticks). It was in Ballenita that I learned to embrace the white noise lulling of waves crashing on the surf as I fell asleep every night. Oh, and did I mention our room was located at the top of a refurbished lighthouse???

After little whale came little mountain, or Montañita. Being a town of barely a few square kilometres big, it boasts more action than a lot of Ecuador put together. Well, tourist action anyway. I would say about 80% of the centre's population is made up of turistas, who come from all over the globe for surfing and partying. The tides in Montañita are crazy and the surfing is supposed to be amazing. Being more of a blue corn 'n crunchy granola than Blue Crush, I spent my time absorbing the hippy-in-a-hammock culture rather than balancing on a board. I did my mother proud and went for long walks on the beach, filling my pockets with smooth rocks and seashells, just as my mum does everytime we go on vacation to the maritime beaches. I found some good ones, Mum!

Ayampe was next and, had it not been for a few remarkable exceptions, this stop would've been a bit of a bust. Firstly, the beach was awesome. Montañita's currents were insane and swimming there was more like wrestling for your life against Mr.T, in water form. I pity the fool who gets pulled under. In Ayampe, the waves were still a force to be reckoned with, but in a manageable, fun way. Kind of like the difference between being involved in an all-out fight-till-death ultimate battle of brawn versus playing fisticuffs with a younger sibling.
The other exception was that a neighbouring hostal (Cabañas de La Tortuga) had a fantastic vegetarian restaurant run by an even more fantastic man named Galban. Now, if Samir is reading this, his heart with have probably started fluttering furiously because he loved Galban even more than I love, I don't know, tofu. To say Galban's cooking was good would be like saying Mr. Clean has a receding hairline. Large understatement. Perfectly seasoned and beautifully presented, humble Galban fed us four meals that I will literally remember for the rest of my life. One of my favourite parts was seeing him dash around his back garden gathering fresh herbs and produce after taking our order, then seeing them on our plates half an hour later. Fresh fish, flavourful little domes of garlic rice, lemoney-herby salads, and crunchy patacones (plantain fritters). Not only was he a spatula-weilding God, but he was also ridiculously friendly and fun to talk to. Before I start drooling on the keyboard, let's move on...

...To a wonderful ecological resort named Alandaluz in Puerto Rico. Alandaluz was built and is run on self-sustaining, evoronmentally friendly principles which makes my green green heart happy, but it was also just a really beautiful place to stay, too. Our room was amazing and had a beach-front, be-hammocked balcony and a fireplace. That's like telling a little kid in an ice cream shop that he can pick two flavours. The beach there was also great, so Samir and I got in some last days of wave wrestling before we left the coast.

Back in Cuenca, I missed the sound of waves. Samir left a few days later and Christmas planning, reunited with my teacher amigos, began with festive fervour...

Dear Santa, Please send me an ebb-and-flowing tide to roar outside my window, and one Galban, spatula at the ready...