Go to Manta, they said. It's ... oh ... a couple hours? It's a nice bus ride, they said. It's cheap, they said. Let's go to Manta! we said. It's the farthest north we might want to locate. Tomorrow we'll go to Puerto Lopez since it's only half the distance; meanwhile we'll scope out the whole coast to the north. We like adventure!
So we pack a lunch using the nice little Coleman insulted travel bag I bought at a yard sale right before we came. (Had to justify the $2.50 so I used to it carry my larger toiletries on the trip; here it doubles as our picnic bag.) By 10:15 a.m. we walked out the door and took the 40 minute bus ride to the terminal in Ballenita, plunked and stumbled with an occasional Spanish word explaining our location desire ... while they skittered through their language like Liberace on piano keys ... made a few go-rounds through the turnstiles while THEY figured out which bus we needed ... then managed to get on the correct bus at 11 a.m. And voila, the man who led us to the correct bus at the terminal was also the kind man who took fares at the intermediate stops; we felt like we had a guardian angel.
Sandy beaches and some quaint ... others not so much so ... villages graced our view for the next couple hours, when we had to change buses in Puerto Lopez. Take two of the plunk and stumble, shown up with the Liberace magic of their Spanish ... finally another very friendly guardian showed us to the correct bus to Manta. And again, voila! This very solicitous, gray haired, smiling man started by encouraging me to wear my hat because we were on the sunny side of the bus, and was our most gregarious and friendly maestro during the REMAINDER of the THREE HOURS to Manta.
He was obviously very proud of Ecuador and didn't want us to miss a moment of it. No matter that we didn't understand more than a word or two of what he said ~ he was delighted to share the glory of the expanse of white beaches, which we could tell by his accompanying hand signals stretched ALL THE WAY TO MANTA! "Take a picture!" is apparently what he frequently repeated.
Have I ever mentioned that I don't like noise? Praise God the attendants on both legs of the journey were pretty thoughtful to this cranky American and turned the music down ... a little.
By 4 p.m. we arrived, gloriously looking the part of typical, bedraggled tourists ... to find out that the last bus BACK was at 5 p.m. ... Our forever impression of Manta will be a noisy, bustling, jostling, diesel-smelling bus terminal. After an interesting trip to the bathrooms
~ no toilet seats (not uncommon, I've found), no running water (even in the toilet), and they charge for TP (I always bring my own) ~ I still had to pay 30 cents to use it. The attendant ladled water over my hands to wash (and dug out a questionable bar of soap when she realized what I was looking for) and then flushed the toilet using an old jug which she dunked in a bin of soapy water. Not bad for 30 cents ~ we managed to once again plunk our way on the keyboard of language and hear the rapid staccato of their response, get return tickets purchased, and carefully maneuver our way around buses, taxis and the occasional car to a little restaurant across the street.
We actually, possibly regrettably, missed out on their specialty of roasted chicken because of hamburger and french fries just sounded so good! So for $5 (the four hour bus trip was $15 for two, one way) we enjoyed a delicious meal, a Coke and a berry juice ... before getting back on the bus for our return trip.
Have I ever mentioned that I don't like noise? Buses, taxis, cacophony of hawkers selling wares ... same/same, world over. Not so bad. Do you know how many Jean-Claude Van Damme movies can be blasted over the loud speaker of a bus on a nearly five-hour trip? Well, just in case you don't, let me tell you ~~ two-thirds of one already started, two more in their entirety, and then another about half-way through. Just in case you wanted to know.
Back at the terminal in Ballenita, we felt like we were almost home and with a huge sigh of relief knew what to do. The loud music on that 35 minute ride was at least fairly "easy listening", until an apparently very humorous talk show came on ... life will make a little more sense here when we learn Spanish ... and for this sound-sensitive American a lot more pleasant when I get noise-cancelling headphones! Oh, the glorious sound of silence to this weary traveler when we stepped off the local bus at 10:30 p.m.
Want to go to Puerto Lopez tomorrow? NO, THEY SAID!
Maybe it was breaking my foot in Turkey, maybe it is the experience of multiple trips to developing nations, but for the most part I've learned to watch the ground when I walk ~ these are typical examples of why.
