down the Panamericano
After 2 deliciously decadent nights in the aforementioned hostel and a quick exploration of Guayaquil (which revealed the brighter, not so scary side of this notorious city) we headed back to Cuenca, back home.
Our last bus ride together, our last bus ride through the banana plantations and mountains of Ecuador, filled with the joyous tunes of our favourite regaton tunes.
For me, going back to Cuenca was good closure. As any city does when you leave it for long enough, Cuenca had moved on. And though maybe it looked pretty much like we had left it and our best friends still had room for us on their floors, people had their own things going on and I realised that I too, was on my own agenda once more. It was still wonderful to see so many people I knew again, to be amidst friends in a familiar place. It was good to have one last chance to say good bye.
What was really hard for me was leaving Bec behind and I really felt quite lost without her as I got on my 3am bus to dreaded Tumbes to start my descent down to Chile and Argentina. In fact, I nearly gave u
p on trying to get down there at all and considered, for a fleeting moment, changing my plans to go north through Colombia, Venezuela and Brazil (it’s definitely on my “next time” list). But then I thought it best to stick to the plan and while it would have been a lot warmer up north, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of travelling with Sarah.
A note on the buses i have encountered:
I really don´t mind buses. Usually I pass out in them or spend my time gazing out the window lost in wandering thoughts and happy day dreams. I used to get really excited when they have movies on them but lately I have been dreading the sound of the DVD machine opening and closing. Every single movie I watched all the way down the Panamericano (which was probably about 5 or 6) was the most violent movie you could find. We went from Dracula (which I admit could pass) to man-fighting, which is like dog fighting but between people. I am a very sensitive viewer, as I´m sure some of you will testify and I was completely traumatised. I tried cowering under blankets, blocking my ears, even meditating out the window ("ooh, look at the pretty sunset, look at the pretty sunset, look...") but nothing could block out the screams eminating from the television in front of me. Who chooses those movies anyway? There are kids on the buses!! (and people like me!) I need to find those buses where they serve you steak and champagne.
4 days, three traumatic busses, three border crossings and two flights and a little, rather disconcerting, culture shock later, I was in Stellenbosch (???), no actually Mendoza, walking through oak-lined roads, drinking red wine and eating Argentinean steak with Sarah while I caught up on everything that has happened back home in the last year that hasn’t managed yet to filter through the lines to me over on this continent.
Our last bus ride together, our last bus ride through the banana plantations and mountains of Ecuador, filled with the joyous tunes of our favourite regaton tunes.
For me, going back to Cuenca was good closure. As any city does when you leave it for long enough, Cuenca had moved on. And though maybe it looked pretty much like we had left it and our best friends still had room for us on their floors, people had their own things going on and I realised that I too, was on my own agenda once more. It was still wonderful to see so many people I knew again, to be amidst friends in a familiar place. It was good to have one last chance to say good bye.
What was really hard for me was leaving Bec behind and I really felt quite lost without her as I got on my 3am bus to dreaded Tumbes to start my descent down to Chile and Argentina. In fact, I nearly gave u
p on trying to get down there at all and considered, for a fleeting moment, changing my plans to go north through Colombia, Venezuela and Brazil (it’s definitely on my “next time” list). But then I thought it best to stick to the plan and while it would have been a lot warmer up north, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of travelling with Sarah.A note on the buses i have encountered:
I really don´t mind buses. Usually I pass out in them or spend my time gazing out the window lost in wandering thoughts and happy day dreams. I used to get really excited when they have movies on them but lately I have been dreading the sound of the DVD machine opening and closing. Every single movie I watched all the way down the Panamericano (which was probably about 5 or 6) was the most violent movie you could find. We went from Dracula (which I admit could pass) to man-fighting, which is like dog fighting but between people. I am a very sensitive viewer, as I´m sure some of you will testify and I was completely traumatised. I tried cowering under blankets, blocking my ears, even meditating out the window ("ooh, look at the pretty sunset, look at the pretty sunset, look...") but nothing could block out the screams eminating from the television in front of me. Who chooses those movies anyway? There are kids on the buses!! (and people like me!) I need to find those buses where they serve you steak and champagne.
4 days, three traumatic busses, three border crossings and two flights and a little, rather disconcerting, culture shock later, I was in Stellenbosch (???), no actually Mendoza, walking through oak-lined roads, drinking red wine and eating Argentinean steak with Sarah while I caught up on everything that has happened back home in the last year that hasn’t managed yet to filter through the lines to me over on this continent.
posted by ph @ 3:20 PM
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