Ecuador and the 2.5 day journey to Mompiche

Our first stop in Ecuador was Guayaquil. The downtown area is a perfect case study of urban development. The once slum is now The Malecon and although its a bit too clean and perfect, the architecture and planning of it is incredible. There is also an independent movie theater, an IMAX and one of the best collections of contemporary art I have ever seen in their museum. Other than that though, its a pretty boring town so we hightailed it to yet another beach town, Montanita. Its a pretty place, dont get me wrong, but the influx of gringos makes the place feel a bit cheap. Bob Marley and Sublime blare from every speaker and drinks as foreign to Ecuador as we are are offered in 3 for 1 abundance. I had heard about a secret place called Mompiche off the beaten track so we headed for there. The two and a half day journey to get there was a whirlwind of bizarre events which I will recap.

Not many people (Ecuadorians included) know about Mompiche so finding info on actually getting there was rough. Bus drivers would say “yeah, Im going there” and then drop you off 45 minutes later at a town that was closer to the route to Mompiche. We found a bus who could get us to a town called Chone but we would have to sleep there since transport for the night would be over by the time we arrived. Chone is so dangerous that the bus driver himself got off to ask a taxi driver to walk us the the “hotel” next door. The choice of having to sweat with the windows closed or leave them open with no screens on is never an easy one. Either way youre uncomfortable from the heat or from mosquitos and the restless sleep of thinking someone can climb in at any moment. I slept in my cotton cocoon, only mouth exposed for air and mace in my hand. The next morning we got a bus to Bahia de Caraquez. From there took a bicycle rickshaw, peddaled by a 15 year old to a boat. From the boat ride, a motorcycle rickshaw taxi to San Vicente. From San Vicente another bus and then a caro to an easily forgettable town. For those of you who have yet to experience budget travel in South America, a caro is a bus basically on top of a bus. We sat on sacks of rice on top of gas tanks on the roof of a packed bus. Its unbelievably dangerous and kids are constantly climbing off and on as the bus barely slows down for them. To add to the experience, it began to rain but that was sort of a nice relief to the heat. Apart from being physically uncomfortable, the ride was pretty lovely. Dusk through the lush, jungle parts of Ecuador. Birds singing, trees sagging with bananas and little roadside tiendas frying who knows what.

We got to this little town built on stilts over a bog and were told this was the closest we would be getting to Mompiche that night. We had a revolting meal on the porch of this family which consisted of some sort of hen or fowl washed down by a hot, tooth rottingly sweet fruit beverage. Since it was lovingly prepared for us by a woman and her daughters out of their kitchen and the only game in town, we ate it like champs and graciously thanked them. We stayed in the towns only hotel which was a little cabin with barely enough space for the two twin beds let alone our bags. The “toilets” were holes in the ground of this shack that dropped directly into the festering, bog below. In the middle of the night, I was awoken by a man snoring and in the blackness I thought he might be in bed with me. The walls were made of clapboard and I could feel every breath and movement he made. A horrible evening but our eyes were on the prize and all we needed to do was get through this night and make it to Mompiche.

Now in day two of travelling we took a bus to yet another unknown town. From there the cast of characters that got off and on was unbelievable. First we had these two adorable boys who we gave gum to and tried to teach them how to blow bubbles. We werent very good teachers with the little bit of gum so instead we smacked it and popped the gum, each time cracking them up. It never got old (for them) and each time they would squeal with laughter and stare at us in amazement. They were so into us that everytime we made a sharp curve (which on South American buses is every 40 seconds or so) one of the boys would use me to balance himself and then unconciously just rest his hand on mine. It was beyond adorable and Clare and I had to play it cool and not make that kind of sound that involuntarily comes out when women see cute shit like that. They left and in their place some barefoot guys with chainsaws and machetes got on. Not as cute. Luckily we were soon dropped off on a road in the middle of nowhere and were told to wait 45 minutes for a bus to Mompiche. Within a few minutes of waiting we saw a baby fall out of the cab of a large truck that was being loaded with supplies. Clare saw it, I only heard it and then saw the blood. The father scooped him up and the mother casually strolled over with a bottle of water to wash the blood away. Clare and I just stared in shock while the parents acted quickly, cool as cucumbers. At that moment a pickup truck drove by and we decided to hitchhike instead of waiting for the bus that might not even come. I prayed for that baby as we made our final journey to Mompiche.

Through the thick jungle and dirt roads the clearing finally approached..we had found Mompiche. A town of less than 100 people, Mompiche is what I imagine Costa Rica or Jamaica to have been like decades ago. Virtually all building are made of bamboo and when they arent fishing everyone just hangs out. We got a very basic little room right on the beach and just sunk into the forced relaxation of having nothing else to do. Napping, reading, strolling the beach and eating. Thats it folks. Sometimes we would drag ourselves to the juice shack and get a delicious smoothie and pour some Canon ($2 grain alcohol. No judgements..its all that was available) into it. We fell in love with this woman who has a little beach restaurant (just a gas stove and tables on the sand) and ate every meal with her and her family. When she isnt tending to her newborn baby she is cooking amazing seafood right from the ocean. Her dad has a table and a cooler with coconuts and when we wanted one she would whistle for him and he would momentarily stop shooting the shit with the fisherman, stroll over with his machete and hack us open a cold one. There are no menus, just whatever is caught that day and to our luck, langostinos were in season. Somewhere between a giant prawn and a crawfish but with the flavor of lobster, the langostino has to be one of the best things Ive tried in South America. She would make it in an ajillo sauce of butter, garlic and spices and with friend tostones and some rice and beans…its the kind of meal that makes you want to weep. After my first bite I got up and hugged her which everyone in her family thought was hilarious. Like all good things though, it had to come to an end and we had to get to Quito for Clares flight.