Hello from Fiji! Before Jared and I tell you about our time here in paradise (seriously, Fiji is heaven on earth) let’s look back on our quick jaunt to the good old U.S. of A. We spent 10 days seeing people we love and chowing down on all the food we’d been missing.
Jared and I don’t plan too far in advance, so when Jared’s sister offered us two free tickets to Houston for her graduation, we jumped at the chance to go home for a bit. We took advantage of some buddy passes and frequent flier tickets and mapped a frantic U.S. tour: first Houston, then Florida, New York, and finally Los Angeles.
We touched down in Houston after more than five months in South America. I couldn’t help but immediately see the overconsumption that is prevalent in the States. Everywhere we looked we saw big SUVs, big houses, big portions of food. Then again, this was Texas, where everything is big.
We weren’t in Houston to sightsee, we were there to see family. Jared’s sister Rachel became one of the newest flight attendants in the skies, and we both gained a new respect for flight attendants. (Rachel can evacuate a plane in 90 seconds!) As a bonus, we got to stay with Jared’s cousins Cindy, Todd, 3-year-old Jessica, and one-year-old Colin. Last time we saw Jessica she was only one, and this was our first time meeting Colin, who I wanted to take with me.
Our next stop was my hometown, West Palm Beach, Florida. Throughout our last few weeks in South America, I was growing more homesick by the day. Seeing my parents, grandparents, and best friends did more for my spirits than a stay at a five-star hotel. My parents are selling my childhood home, so next time I see them they will be living in Georgia. I gave my grandparents big hugs, because they are 81 and 90, and I can’t take them for granted anymore. Jared and I even got to spend time with his grandmother Myra, who lives not far from my parents. Friends are the family you choose, so seeing Jen, Billy, Katie, Bill, Eileen, and Hope was as important as seeing my parents. (I just wish I had taken more pictures of everybody.)
Then it was on to New York City, which is still my favorite city in the world. We had 36 hours to see as many of our friends as possible. It was a chilly Tuesday night in the city, but a few friends came to meet us for dinner and karaoke, and even more came out later for drinks. Over salmon and avocado rolls at our old sushi joint, we all sang rousing versions of “Sweet Child O Mine” and “Bohemian Rhapsody”. Being serenaded by Feldman was worth the price of admission. Jared and I had missed all our friends more than they know, and seeing them was worth the trip to New York.
The next day in New York, I realized I had lost my wallet. Somewhere between paying for the cab back to Maria’s apartment the night before, and walking 10 blocks that morning, my wallet went missing. Both my debit cards and three credit cards were in my wallet, and I know better than to keep all that stuff in one place. As my favorite blogger would say, BE YE NOT SO STUPID. Now that I was back on familiar territory I had let my guard down, and I was paying the price. It’s better to have lost my wallet in New York than in a foreign country, but still, this is not how I wanted to spend my one free day in the New York City. I wanted to spend my day getting lemon cupcakes from Buttercup Bake Shop.
Los Angeles was the last stop on our North American leg. We scored a great deal on a flight to New Zealand, via Fiji, at half the price we would have paid from South America. So by coming home, we actually saved $1600. Plus we got to spend time with our good friends Erin, Hal, Hasmik, Kareem, Noah, Greg, Danielle, and Jenni. We grilled on a sidewalk, soaked in a hot tub, and spent time enjoying the hospitality of our new and old friends. Our time in L.A. also coincided with Community Next, a conference founded by our friend Noah. (We were used to seeing Noah in boxers at his Buenos Aires apartment, so it was strange to see him in a suit.) Right before our flight, we even crashed a barbecue where the host, who only met us that day, made us an incredible lunch of root beer marinated pork chops and grilled eggplant.
Having seen lots of family and friends and satisfied my cravings for margaritas, buffalo wings, spinach dip, sushi, chocolate chip cookies, salt and vinegar chips, In-N-Out Burger, Ethiopian food, sushi, burritos, The Cheesecake Factory, cookie dough ice cream, and more sushi, Jared and I boarded our flight to Fiji. We left the states feeling happy, exhausted, and ready for another long leg of travel. Thank you to everyone who put us up, transported us to and from airports, fed us and came to see us. We appreciate it more than you know.
Inspired by Esquire magazine’s regular feature, here is what I’ve learned.
Keeping in touch with friends keeps homesickness at bay.
In small towns, there are always street dogs running around. All they want are scraps and some love.
Everything weighs something.
Indigenous people do not like having their picture taken.
Toilet paper: don’t leave the hostel without it.
Grilling on an Argentine parrilla is serious business. They don’t care if it takes hours; for them, the taste of steak cooked over wood coals is worth it.
In first class, a 17-hour bus ride can be enjoyable.
If my daypack feels heavier than normal while I am wearing it on my back, someone is trying to open it.
Ceviche cures a sushi craving.
People love wearing Yankees hats, even if they don´t know exactly what the NY stands for.
Hand sanitizer, peanut butter, and my iPod are worth their weight in gold.
Keeping a daily journal and a blog of our travels are major commitments.
Chileans and Argentines speak entirely too quickly.
Liability isn’t really a concept there. We’ve climbed the rafters of churches and walked right up to the mouths of geysers.
The whole continent is obsessed with soccer. Cities practically shut down to watch big games.
If I order one of my favorite American foods such as a cheeseburger or pizza, it will never turn out quite the way I’d hoped.
Vitamin B tablets will make you smell bad to mosquitoes.
Tang packets make purified river water taste good.
In Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, the set lunches at restaurants are a steal. A three-course lunch for $1.50? Count me in!
You have to shake a mercury thermometer before using it.
If you want to visit Argentine wineries, go to Cafayate instead of Mendoza.
All the dollar coins ended up in Ecuador, which uses the U.S. dollar.
Never wake a sleeping anaconda.
Sometimes Lonely Planet can be a little too enthusiastic when describing places. If they say a place is “off the beaten path,” it will be overrun with backpackers.
I never met a hot spring I didn’t like.
Street food is yummy. Meat kabobs, fresh squeezed orange juice, caramel popcorn, churros, corn on the cob….
You can buy carne (meat) at a carnecería, libros (books) at a librería, but you can´t buy ferrets at a ferretería. They sell hardware.
Argentines and Urguayans love their yerba mate tea. Even on the hottest days you’ll see them clutching thermoses and gourds of tea with metal straws.
Portuguese doesn’t sound a thing like Spanish. I learned that the hard way.
There are still nice people in the world. In Saquarema, Brazil, a woman walked 20 minutes out of her way to take me to the one shoe repair shop in town. Instead of asking for a tip, she gave me her phone number in case I had any other questions.
You can buy anything at street stalls in La Paz. Batteries, eggs, you name it.
We hit the highlights of Patagonia during the second week of our two-week tour. Unfortunately, we had to skip the majestic FitzRoy mountains and could only stay for a short time in El Calafate, El Bolson, and Bariloche. But when Jared’s sister Rachel got us two free tickets back to the states, we jumped at the chance to head home for a bit. (I was becoming more homesick by the day. When Jared vetoed Domino’s pizza in Rio, I almost burst into tears.) Besides, after five months in South America, we were both ready for something new.
After leaving Torres del Paine, we crossed into Argentina for the fourth and final time. Just outside the Argentine border office was a huge sign that said “Las Malvinas son Argentinas,” or “The Falkland Islands belong to Argentina.” I had learned about the Falkland Islands War in school, but I was surprised to learn that Argentina still claims the tiny islands off the coast of Tierra del Fuego. The islands even grace the back of Argentina’s brand new two peso coin. Apparently Great Britain is well aware of Argentina’s claim on the islands, but it was certainly news to me.
No trip to Patagonia (even a whirlwind one) is complete without a visit to the majestic Perito Moreno glacier. At 180 feet tall, the glacier is a field of jagged blue ice that reminded me of planet Krypton in the Superman movies. Jared has hiked across several glaciers, but even he kept saying he’d never seen anything like this. Even small pebbles of ice echoed as they fell into the lake below. Imagine the thundering crash that sounded when a giant sheet of ice plunged from the glacier; the awesome noise sounded like an avalanche. The crash happened too quickly for us to get it on film; we could only stand and stare, completely in awe of the power of nature. Check out our video and photos of the glacier.
Aside from the glacier, there is not much going on in El Calafate, so we soon moved on to the tranquil town of El Bolson. In a rare treat, we flew from El Calafate to the city of Esquel, and then took a bus two hours from Esquel to El Bolson. (Interestingly, we flew on LADE, the airline of Argentina’s air force.)
El Bolson is a sleepy little town in the shadow of the Andes. We met a cool American guy named Michael in our hostel; he and Jared went biking in the foothills of the mountains. We skipped the surprisingly pricey restaurants in town and instead Jared cooked us a feast of fresh trout. If you are in the area, don’t miss El Bolson’s artisan market, one of the best in the country. I gorged on homemade alfajores (like Argentine moon pies… yum) and Jared bought some microbrews while we stocked up on handmade gifts for our families.
From El Bolson we moved onto Bariloche in the Lakes District. I had heard so much about Bariloche, but I must say I was underwhelmed. We only had 24 hours in town, so maybe we just needed more time to take advantage of the national park that surrounds the city. Instead we went to the tiny Swiss Colony (Colonia Suiza), an hour outside of town. The trip to the Swiss Colony was worth it for the stunning lake views we saw on the bus, plus I scored a gorgeous pair of handmade earrings for $1 at the craft market. Before we left Bariloche, we made a pilgrimage to one of the town’s most famous chocolate shops.
Next on our agenda was Mendoza, the capital of the Argentine wine industry. Several of our friends told us we would love Mendoza, and they were right. We instantly started plotting a way to move there. Maybe it was the leafy trees that shielded us from the desert sun. Maybe it was the proximity to the famous vineyards. Maybe it was that Mendoza was a smaller, cleaner, more manageable version of Buenos Aires. Whatever it was that made us love Mendoza, we wished we could have stayed longer than four days.
Fortunately, we made the most of our brief time in Mendoza. Jared and I both took the plunge and went paragliding. We even managed to get our flights on video.
Once Jared and I were back on solid ground, we rented bikes to explore Mendoza’s wineries. Though we had a great time riding crookedly from one winery to the next, we both agreed that we prefer the wineries of Cafayate. (Cafayate, we both agree, is one of our favorite places in South America.) Whereas Mendoza’s bodegas are an hour out of town, there are several within walking distance of Cafayate’s quaint town square. If you are going to be in the Northwest part of Argentina, take a bus three hours from Salta to Cafayate and sip on their famous Torrontes wine.
We took our last overnight bus from Mendoza to Buenos Aires and caught an overnight flight from Buenos Aires to Houston. More details on our North American leg are coming up soon. Until then, safe travels.
After our tour of Southern Brazil’s beach towns, it was time to visit the biggest beach town of all, Rio de Janeiro. My expectations for Rio were so low that it was easy for me to be pleasantly surprised.
The best part about Rio was that our good friend Maria flew down from New York and met us there. We miss all of our friends and family more than we can say, so it was such a treat to spend a few days with Maria. She even came bearing gifts–real New York City bagels! Jared and I ate those bagels with cream cheese and huge smiles.
Rio de Janeiro is quite possibly the most naturally beautiful city I’ve ever visited. Set in a bay and surrounded by sloping granite hills, Rio is much more than its famed beaches. Although those beaches are pretty nice too. While we didn´t run into any trouble in Rio, we didn’t have to look far to see Rio’s notorious favelas, or slums. On the hill below the Christ the Redeemer statue, only a small highway separated the favelas from guarded mansions.
All in all, we did Rio right. The three of us made the mandatory stops at Pao de Azucar (Sugarloaf mountain), Christ the Redeemer, and Ipanema beach. We snacked on coconut water straight from the coconuts and a sorbet made of a tangy fruit called acaí. At a samba club in Lapa, we happened onto a concert by an amazing band called Loroza. Lapa was a sight in itself, with a party in the streets and stands selling every snack and cocktail imaginable.
Without a doubt, the highlight for all of us was the soccer game we went to at Maracana Stadium. We splurged on tickets for the Rio championship between Flamengo and Botafogo. Getting into the stadium was one of the scariest moments of our trip, as our petite guide raced to the entrance with our tickets. Fortunately we got in fine and found ourselves with ridiculously good seats–twenty rows behind the teams’ benches.
The game was the Rio city final, but you would have thought it was the World Cup Final. These fans were INSANE. Both sides flew flags, chanted taunts, and even set off firecrackers in the stadium. American sports fans are just a bunch of pansies compared to Brazilian futebol fanatics. We didn’t shoot this video, but it gives you a good idea of the energy at the game. In the end, Flamengo beat Botafogo, 2-1, to repeat as Rio champs.
I had heard many firsthand accounts of muggings in Rio, but we got lucky. The three of us never carried purses, backpacks, or even wallets. All of our jewelry, even my $7 earrings from Bolivia, stayed in our hotel. When we went to the beach and had to carry bags, we used plastic grocery bags. To minimize any potential losses, we only carried the smallest amount of cash necessary, and I hid credit cards in the secret stash of my Reef flip-flops. Our hotel, Hostel Copa Praia, was in a very safe part of Copacabana and we highly recommend it. Jared and I didn´t bring our cameras out much, so take a look at Maria´s photos of Rio.
After saying goodbye to Maria, it was time to board a 38-hour bus back to Buenos Aires. Flights were $360 each, and the bus was $120 each, so it was a no-brainer. Our seats were like Lazy-Boy recliners, so the ride wasn’t that bad, though I am not itching to do it again anytime soon.
Both Jared and I were thrilled to be back in Buenos Aires. After more than four months on the road, B.A. is the closest thing to home. It was great to catch up with our friends and indulge in as much ice cream from Freddo as I possibly could. We retrieved our cold-weather gear and boarded a flight to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world.
As I write this post, Jared and I are marking four months on the road. Over the past four months, we have spent countless hours on buses because we would rather save the plane fare. Then again, an 18-hour bus trip isn’t so bad when you have an attendant serving you champagne and a seat that folds down into a flat bed. We traveled to Puerto Iguazú on the holy grail of buses, one with genuine flat beds.
Before we visited the famous waterfalls, Jared and I stopped at Triple Frontier landmark. As we stood across on Argentine soil, we could see Paraguay to the left and Brazil to the right, just across the river. Each country’s territory was marked with an obelisk in their national colors. Most likely, that is the closest we will get to Paraguay.
How can I describe Iguazú Falls? Only a poet could do it justice. Iguazú Falls are a series of 275 waterfalls along 1.7 miles of the Iguazú river. The cataratas, as they are called in Spanish, are mostly 210 feet tall, though some are as tall as 269 feet. (Niagara Falls, for the record, are 167 feet tall.) Separating Brazil from Argentina, the falls should be seen from both sides to be properly appreciated. Argentina has the closer look–we took a boat into the base of some of the falls–while Brazil has the panoramic view. And, oh what a view. Take a look at Jared´s photos and try to imagine the roar of Iguazú Falls.
We finally got our Brazilian visas in Puerto Iguazú. The small consulate in the Argentine border town didn´t want to see any bank statements or proof of onward travel, they only wanted cold, hard cash. My visa cost $147, and Jared´s cost $70, almost 50% more than we were expecting. (Sometimes it pays to be Canadian.) And for some strange reason, my visa has a big stamp on it that says “FREE.” If only that were true.
From beautiful Iguazú Falls, it was another overnight bus to Florianópolis, Brazil, where we would spend Carnaval. We stayed on the Ilha de Santa Caterina, at the Armaçao beach. In the small village of Armaçao, the Carnaval party was centered right outside our hostel. Music blared from a lone parade float, hundreds of people danced in the streets. As soon as the Super Bowl was over (congratulations, New York Giants!), Jared and I grabbed our caiprinhas and joined the party. Check out our photos of Carnaval and Florianopolis.
Honestly, up until Carnaval, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to visit Brazil. The language barrier, higher costs, and crime stories made me nervous. All my fears disappeared when a group of Brazilian women grabbed me by the hips during the party and showed me how to samba. Even though I can’t understand their language, the warmth of the Brazilian people is infectious.
¡Feliz año nuevo! When last we spoke, Jared and I were headed to Buenos Aires, eager to finally meet this city we’d heard so much about. After an auspicious introduction (the cab into town was unexpectedly expensive, and our hotel tried to charge us 30% more than the published rate), we began to enjoy the bustling metropolis with the tango beat. With European architecture, unending nightlife, and more steak than we can eat, what’s not to love about Buenos Aires?
We did more apartment hunting than sightseeing in the three days we were in Buenos Aires. After almost three months on the road, Jared and I are weary from moving every three days. We rented a room in the Monserrat neighborhood near the city center, and we are looking forward to having a home to call our own for the rest of January. By New York standards, our room in a nine-bedroom row house is a steal: $350 gets us a furnished, sunny room, a functioning kitchen, a spacious rooftop deck, and several friendly housemates. Our house is a mix of international students and a few locals, so we´ll be practicing our Spanish. If you´re going to be in the area this month, please let us know.
We did get a chance to go out until dawn, to sprint across the world’s widest street, and to pose for photos in front of the presidential palace. But really, our exploration of Buenos Aires didn’t scratch the surface.
To ring in the new year, Jared and I headed to Punta del Este, Uruguay, the swankiest resort town in all of South America. Our good friends Christina and Pablo were going to be there, and Pablo’s parents graciously hosted us while we were in town. We lived a tough life in Punta del Este: sailing in the morning, sunbathing on the beach in the afternoon, caiprinhas at sunset. On New Year’s Eve, the entire city shot off fireworks for an hour, and we had a perfect view from the their terrace. We watched as thousands of Brazilian visitors, all dressed in white, walked down to the water to pay homage to the sea god by walking backwards into the water. At 3am (that’s when the night starts here), we found a party where the champagne was flowing freely. Just as the sun was starting to color the sky pink, Pablo, Christina, Jared, and I called it a night. All in all, it was a perfect (and warm!) New Year’s Eve.
Truth be told, Punta del Este isn’t really my kind of town. It’s full of jetsetters, not backpackers. But it was one of the highlights of the trip. After months away from our friends, seeing Pablo and Christina was like going home for a bit. Pablo’s parents, Alvaro and Susana, made us feel welcome even though they had never met us before. As we left, they sent us with a care package of fruit, a huge ham and cheese torte, and a bottle of wine from land that used to be in Alvaro’s family. Like true parents, they wanted to make sure we had enough food for dinner. We were sincerely touched by their generosity. Alvaro and Susana, muchísimas gracias.
By the way, Uruguay marks the sixth country we’ve visited. Their coast faces the Atlantic Ocean, meaning we have officially crossed South America. Take a look at the map of our travels.
Our tour of the Salar de Uyuni ended in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. Crossing from Bolivia to Chile was our most serious border crossing yet–our luggage was inspected and our daypacks were opened.
Jared and I had high hopes for San Pedro de Atacama. Our guidebook described it as a “desert oasis”, but we described it as expensive and hot as hell. As soon as we arrived, we began plotting our escape. I suppose San Pedro is a nice enough town if you are there to see the salt flats and geysers, but we had just seen those from the Bolivian side at 1/3 the price. Coming from Bolivia, everything was triple the price of what we were used to paying, which put a dent in our $25 a day budget. How much did we not like San Pedro? We didn’t take any photos. (Thanks, MIT Alumni travel program.)
Before sunrise on our last day in San Pedro, we were awakened by an earthquake. At the epicenter, approximately 60 miles away, the earthquake measured 6.7 on the Richter scale. What we felt measured around 5.0 and lasted for 30 seconds. In my sleepy stupor, I thought someone was trying to force open the door to our room. Jared realized what was going on and we ran outside. It was Jared’s first earthquake and my third; hopefully it will be the last one we experience on this trip.
We are in Argentina now, where the prices are reasonable and the steak is plentiful. You’ll hear more soon about our trip to wine country. In the meantime, a very Merry Christmas to everyone, especially my family.
Hello, and Happy Hanukkah! It’s easy to fall behind on our posts, so I am catching up here in La Paz, Bolivia, where the internet is 40 cents an hour, the cheapest we’ve found so far.
Originally, Jared and I weren’t planning to visit Bolivia. Not wanting to spend days on buses crossing the South of Peru, we planned on flying from Lima to Brazil. But we kept hearing amazing things about Bolivia–how cheap it was, how the salt flats in Uyuni were not to be missed–so we changed our route. And that’s the beauty of this trip.
We walked across the border from Peru to Bolivia and then continued 8km by bus to Copacabana, a small town on the shores of Lake Titicaca. Picturesque Copacabana, situated at 12,000 feet, was a good place to adjust to Bolivia’s famous altitude. We recuperated at Hotel La Cupula, the nicest accomodations in town, where our room set us a back $17 a night. I watched the sunset from our balcony, while Jared hiked up the hill for spectacular views of Lake Titicaca. In town, we filled up on trout (trucha) fresh out of the lake, and got to witness the colorful blessing of the automobiles at the cathedral.
We took a side trip to Isla del Sol, the birthplace of the sun in Incan mythology. A slow boat took us from Copacabana to the north end of the island, landing at the village of Challapampa. It was a quaint village with hilltops and views of the clear blue lake. Jared was struck by the island´s resemblance to the Amalfi coast of Italy.
Up the hill we hiked, past donkeys and indigenous women in full skirts and bolwer hats. Somehow we missed most of the ruins on the north side, but we did get to see the Laberinto Chinkana, where the Incan creation legend began. Then it was a strenous 3-hour hike to the south side of the island, up and down large hills. When we finally reached the village of Yumani, we checked into a small inn for $8 per night, a small price to pay for a view of the sunset over Lake Titicaca. While I kicked back at our new digs, Jared made friends with three local kids, spinning them around and showing photos he took of them. That night the stars came out, though we couldn´t identify any of the Southern constellations.
Check out our photos of Copacabana and Isla del Sol. In the next few days, you’ll hear about La Paz, Jared’s bike ride down the world’s deadliest road, and our trek into the mountains. By the way, we love to hear from you, so please feel free drop us a line or leave a comment on the site. Happy Holidays!
After Huaraz, Jared and I were bound for Lima. Jared spent some time in Lima two years ago, but he had nothing but bad things to say about the city–it was dirty and boring. So my expectations for Lima were pretty low, until my new friend Charlotte told me that Lima is full of American fast food. Suddenly I started to look forward to visiting Peru’s bustling capital.
By this point, Jared and I had been traveling for six weeks. Our diet had mainly consisted of various forms of chicken, rice, soup, and french fries, plus scrambled eggs for breakfast. When we arrived in Lima, my only goal was to eat all the American fast food I could. I make no apologies for spending $4 on a caramel frappuccino at Starbucks, more than the cost of most of my dinners. It was damn good. During 36 hours in Lima, I ate at Pizza Hut, Burger King and Dunkin Donuts. No wonder Jared sometimes calls me Homer Simpson. I do have to mention that Jared found a Tony Roma’s and chowed down on quesadillas and ribs, so I am not the only one who was missing American chain restaurants.
We stayed in the seaside neighborhood of Miraflores, arguably Lima’s nicest area. Miraflores, with its manicured parks, department stores, and cinemas, was a little slice of home. We even got to go to the movies for the first time in months. (We saw The Heartbreak Kid in English with Spanish subtitles.) During dinner we watched the South American eliminations for the 2010 World Cup, which is three years away. As we watched Brazil defeat Uruguay, it occurred to me that the entire continent was watching this soccer match. We had a fantastic time in the city, enough to change Jared’s mind about Lima.
We saw Southern Peru in 2006, so Lima was just a rest stop as we traveled south from Huaraz to Bolivia. After a night in Lima we boarded a 14-hour night bus to Arequipa. This time we sprang for first class seats and it was worth every centavo. (Our Thanksgiving dinner was served aboard the bus, and though it wasn´t turkey, it wasn’t bad.) We stopped for the night in Arequipa, where we had visited in 2006. Arequipa was a trip down memory lane for both of us. We couldn´t resist taking tons of photos of local kids feeding pigeons in the main square.
There were still two more buses to go before we got to Bolivia. We spent all day during November 24 on buses, reminding ourselves why we prefer to travel at night. Just before sundown, we walked across the Bolivian border, after visiting immigration on each side. We spent a few days in Copacabana, on the shores of Lake Titicaca, but we will save that for another post. In the meantime, take a look at our photos of Lima and Arequipa.
After climbing Cotopaxi, Jared needed a rest, and I could always use another soak in a hot spring, so Jared and I left Quito for good, and headed south to Baños, Ecuador. As we were approaching Baños, we had an excellent view of Volcan Tungurahua. The volcano erupted in August 2006, and smoke was escaping from the crater while we were there.
Baños was the perfect antidote to crowded, polluted Quito. It is a tranquil mountain town where everything is within walking distance. Baños means baths, and the town gets its names from hot springs heated by the volcano. We went to the baths everyday while in Baños, especially since admission was only $2. The best soak was the one we had after mountain biking 22km (mostly downhill) from Baños to Rio Verde, along the Ruta de las Cascadas, or waterfall trail. We parked our bikes and hiked down to the Pailon del Diablo, Ecuador´s most famous waterfall.
From Baños we headed to the seaside village of Montañita, Ecuador. After an overnight bus from Baños, we had to change buses in Guayaquil, Ecuador’s biggest city. The bus station was so crowded that we couldn’t get in, and once we got in, it was just a mass of a thousand people, with no room to move. The Ecuadorians, who are usually quite nice, thought nothing of pushing us by our backpacks. That was the day we learned to say ¡No me empuje!, or don’t push me. Eventually we realized it was not only Friday, but also All Souls Day, one of the biggest holidays in Latin America. To put it in perspective, the bus station was more crowded than any airport I have ever seen on the day before Thanksgiving. Hundreds of people were ahead of us in line to buy tickets, so eventually we broke down and took a shared taxi (collectivo) the three hours to Montañita. That taxi may have been the best $10 I have ever spent.
Montañita is known for its beautiful beaches and great surf, but we were there at the wrong time. For three days, we didn’t see the sun once. The constant drizzle turned the dirt roads into mud, and our little seaside cabin was always damp. Jared did get to surf a few times, but I was getting a little bored. The sun did finally make an appearance–after we were already an hour south, headed for the Peruvian border. Oh well, at least we ate some tasty street food in Montañita.
Right now we are getting our beach fix in Mancora, Peru, but more on that later.
