My flat mate, Benedicte, and I had decided to use this week (her last weekend in Ecuador) to splurge a bit and have a mindless self indulgent weekend at the beach. Ecuador has a good amount of coast with some towns famous for their beauty and atmosphere. María, my homestay mother, recommended that we go to Atacames. It was known to have a bit of a wild reputation, or so says ¨The Lonely Planet,¨ but it´s a touristy destination which means it should be nice.
In our spirit of splurging, we decided to book a room in advance at the Villas Arco Iris, billed in the lonely planet as ¨Atacames´ cosiest destination¨. Sounds good!
I was a little nervous because the trip was basically piggy-backed onto Benedicte´s weel-long Jungle trip. She was scheduled to return to Quito around 5:00am saturday morning, and we were trying to leave before noon. I was worried that this might be cutting it a bit close, especially since she has said that she can´t sleep on buses.
Well, saturday morning rolled around and I slipped out early to put in a few miles. I knew we´d get there after dark, so I had to get my run in early. I came back and had some breakfast and still hadn´t seen Benedicte. Eventually, I knocked on her door and found her half asleep but alive and ready to go.
The bus shedules are pretty hard to figure out, but I was pretty sure there was a bus leaving around 10:30. The trip takes 7 to 8 hours, so that should get us there in time for dinner. We had to hurry to pack, but we eventually made it out in time. We got to the bus terminal around 9:50 and got aboard. Luckily, the bus company we used was one of the nicer ones, and unlike the cheaper buses, it only stopped for gas. Many buses will spend hours circling around Quito calling out their destinations until full. This can get very frustrating.
Unfortunately, we got stuck in a bit of ¨hora pico¨or rush hour and it took us over an hour just to get out of the city. Atacames is a popular destination for Ecuadorians (especially people from Quito and the highlands), so the bus was full with families headed for a weekend at the beach.
The drive, once out of Quito, was reminiscent of the American South West. Soft rolling mountains with stark vegitation and sand dominated the landscape. However, every time I opened my water bottle, there was a hiss and pop that reminded me we were going down.
Within an hour, the mountains had become green. We could have been driving through Western Mass until you looked carefully and saw that most of the vegitation was fern, palm, and other jungly looking plants.
Since the drive was supposed to take 7-8 hours, I decided to tackle listening to the entirety of Phish´s ¨Big Cypress¨Concert, which is no small feat (the band played from midnight until sunrise!) Unfortunately, I don´t have great headphones, so I had to listen at a much higher volume than I would have liked in oder to drown out the loud and incredibly violent spanish movie being shown. I think I probably have irreversable hearing damage.
Anyways, within afew hours, we began to descend really seriously. The enviornment around us became serious jungleas we plunged into a canyon. This was the only part of the ride that I actually enjoyed. We were driving along the wall of a canyon. A few feet to our right was almost a cliff that dropped several hundred feet into the dense jungle and riverbed below. I kept seeing signs that said ¨¡Reduzca Velocidad AHORA!¨(Reduce speed NOW!) and waited for us to go tumbling over the edge. Luckily, we made it.
Once we descended a few thousand feet, we entered the aptly named Cloud Forest, which reduced the view to about 10 feet on either side of the bus. It was at this point, after about four hours of traveling, that the children on the bus began to get antsy. It seemed that we were surrounded by families with little kids as we were pummeled with noise from nearly every direction. A little girl actually began to play the recorder, which happens to be the most shrill and obnoxious instrument ever created. I went on for hours.
Around 3:00, we stopped to get gas. There was a convenience store and fast food place, so we got some chips and candy to keep us occupied. We picked up a few more passengers, including a large black woman who sat across from us. About 30 minutes later, I heard a commotion and loked over to see that she had been carrying a live chicken, held upside down by its legs. And I thought I was uncomfortable!
The only stop we made was in the city of Esmareldas, a port city about 30 minutes north of Atacames. Esmareldas, to be frank, is a pit. It is a dirty and dangerous city. I´m glad we didn´t have to get off the bus. Luckily, though, a lot of other people did, which made the last 45 minutes almost calm.
After seeing Esmareldas, I was a little nervous to see what Atacames would be like. Finally, almost nine hours after leaving Quito, our bus drove up to a seemingly central area. I realized I was still a little anxious. For one, we had forgotten our ¨Lonely Planet¨ book, a travelers bible in Ecuador, and neither of us could remember the exact name of our hotel. Eventually, though, we got off the bus and found someone who knew where we were talking about.
In Atacames, most of the roads are too narrow and crowded for cars, so people get around in suped-up tricycles, which are basically motor cycles with two front wheels and a bench to sit on between them. Kinda cute, actually.
The entrance to our hotel was on the main drag of Atacames, which was a road right along the beach. On one side were scores of touristy stores with $3 tshirts and hemp necklaces and assorted seafood restaurants and pizzerias. On the other side, the beach side, were about 20 similarly designed thatched-roof, open air bars which looked out at the ocean. We were feeling pretty good about our hotel´s location.
We walked down a path through some very jungly plants and trees and came across two rows of secluded cabins. A man with a long mullet approached us and asked if we wanted a room. We followed him to a main lodge with a sitting area, an outdoor dining area, and the check in desk. We explained that we had a reservation, at which point I discovered that my homestay mother, who had made our reservation, did not actually know my name. It was under ¨Taylo¨.
The mullet man showed us to our room and we were amazed. We had the second floor of a cabin, with our own private balcony which looked over a pool, equipped with our own hammock and beach chair. Inside, we had two large bedrooms, a small kitchenette, and a bathroom (with hot water!!). The book had been right. Cosy it was.
We unpacked a bit and headed down the main drag to get some dinner. We ate at a pizza palce which would become our second home. At that point, a few bars were already beginning to get some patrons, so we decided to go back to the room and rest abit before going out.
Having been on various buses for 18 of the last 24 hours, Benedicte was pretty tired. It took all of my convincing and effort just to get her out for a while. We walked down the strip looking for a place that wasn´t too crowded but not totally dead. We settled on one place with no floor, just the sand of the beach, and swings that hung from the ceiling around the bar.
The town is famous for its fruity concoctions, so we both ordered a few (virgin, of course) drinks. They do have really fresh fruit here. The atmosphere on the beach was pretty crazy. Incredibly loud Latin music blasted from every bar and created a cocophony of noise that made it nearly impossible to think.
We made it back to the room around 1:00 or 2:00, with many of the bars still in full swing, and had no trouble getting to sleep.
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