Well if I don't have Malaria, Dengue, Cholera or Scabies, I will take my second bout with yacking my guts out in a dirty bathroom and being attacked by swarming mosquitoes and be content that it is over and that I escaped unscathed.
We've been in Monpiche, Ecuador. It is a quite a mission to get anywhere around here. We hitch hiked from Canoa with a shrimp farmer, obviously a nice guy because we stopped numerous times in the middle of the road to back up and talk to oncoming vehicles. We also stopped at a yogurt stand on the side of the road, on the beach to show us his shrimp farms, and another time to tell us we were going to pass 7 kms of palm trees owned by one man! After one hour of accelerating down a one-lane road (the other lane was blocked with sticks and rocks since they were going to eventually repair that side of the road), as we clenched the foot high rails of the flat bed truck, we arrived in Pedernales.
Not after coming head on with a bus on a bridge with piles of sand on both sides (why would someone pile sand on both sides of the entrance of a bridge?) we screeched to a halt wondering wide eyed who was going to give. I guess the bigger vehicle has the right of way. I forgot how not to right, write in run on sentences. In Pedernales the road ends and you must race the 1 hour to Cojimies along the beach before the tide comes in dodging cows, horses, rocks and fishermen throwing their nets into the breaking waves. Cojimies is possibly the last place on earth I would ever inhabit, actually I think I've said that a lot now. (I took note of the hideousness for the return trip, not about to get stuck there at high tide) I'm sorry for any missionary or Peace Corps worker that would be assigned to this mucky mess of a fishing town.
Dilapidated shacks on stilts, mud, mosquitoes, but they did have a huge fancy white church (God is strong here) The only way in or out is at low tide along the beach or by boat, trapped. In by shrimp truck, out by boat as fast as possible we came and went. As the Gods would have it shortly out at sea the black skies unleashed a torrent of wind, rain and waves (that were breaking and surfable). We asked the captain if this was normal. He said yes.
I was comforted by the fact that he had done this journey many times and that my surfboard was at my feet if we happened to take one of the waves at the wrong angle and flip over. Instead of capsizing we leapt over breaking waves with the wind pelting rain at our faces and arrived whiplashed, wet and alive in Monpiche. Monpiche, home of the 300m left point one restaurant, no phone, 3 places to stay, a standing water mosquito breading ground pond, two "stores" that sold crackers, coke, water and canned tuna.
The secret spot. Secret until this year from surfers, hot spot mosquito getaway forever I definitely caught the longest ride of my life but paid my dues waiting with 15 other surfers. No secrets are kept long. Our friend mike was here last year. 2 other surfers max.
As if to pat myself on the back for my longest ride, I abruptly threw up in a mosquito infested bathroom for the night. I slept under my mosquito net in full regalia, headlamp wrapped around my right arm, shoes and a bottle of deet next to my bed. Luckily the power went out at 10 o'clock (not that anyone could stay up that late because the mosquitoes were so bad). When I stepped outside the door into the "hotel" hall I could drop my pants and spray myself with deet, undetected, before I went into the bathroom with my headlamp to spray the toilet bowl and sit down. Whether the repellent helped or not I do know, but I do have a nice ring around my bum where the mosquitoes got me good.
Itching and nausea. So far from everywhere. Did I have a fever? Malaria? Dengue? Uh oh. This was definitely a high point.
More surfers came in the next day so we plotted our departure. Not about to travel thousands of miles from home and share waves. We argued with the captain of the only boat with a motor in town to take us at 7am to Cojimies. He said 8. 7 we said. Okay, 7. We left at 8, after waiting for the repairman to fix the engine with a machete. Black sand beaches, 80-degree aqua blue ocean, thick gray skies, greenery covering the brown caved cliffs and back to Canoa.
Canoa, our previous week-long home. Our hotel was full so the owner (a 26 year old surfer we befriended) let us stay for free at a house he owns on the beach, free but with out running water or mosquito nets. Couldn't stay long. 20 cases of malaria, 2 of which were travelers we met (and there are hardly any). 20 cases are a lot in a small town where you wake up every hour at night to scratch your bites and the waves aren't very good.
After more truck rides, boat rides, buses and taxis we're in Manta. Manta wanta leava this place I find hard to describe with out using profanities. Today we drove 15 km in a taxi to an even worse fishing town where dwells a 400m left point. It wasn't breaking. The swells not here yet not about to spend one second more than we have to in that smelly cement blocked town. We came back to manta and went to a movie at the mall. I had diarrhea in the middle of the Coyote Ugly (small town innocent girl turns Britney Spears bartender in NYC, not worth my $1.30).
So here I am, praying the waves come so I can justify my stay in this trash-ridden haven. I ate civet in a dirty palm thatched hut with a crusty spoon. I couldn't bear to finish it, the memory of my night in Monpiche still fresh in my mind. It hardly had any lime, which I count on to kill any living creatures or cholera in my raw fish, which scared me. An 8-year old boy selling gum asked me if he could finish my food. I gladly gave it to him and bought an expensive 60 cents pack of gum that I divided among all of us. I saw another vendor finishing food at another table.
Stray dogs and vultures scavenge from trash lining the streets while humans beg for people's leftovers at restaurants. A hard life outside of the land of milk and honey and I complain because you can only get fried fish and rice for every meal, at least I can pay the $1.20 to got out and eat, even if I cant digest it. I hope everyone is eating well and sleeping through the night with out vicious itching or bathroom attacks. Eat a good meal for me and drink a nice glass of water that doesn't taste like a plastic bottle.
Love,
Anya
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