Puerto Lopez

Boobies!! Blue Footed Boobies that is... And the stars of Puerto Lopez, the reason we hopped on a chicken bus for nearly five hours albeit it only $4.10. Within the hour of arrival, we were already taken captives by the beautiful blue ocean, the vast expanse of sand and of course the surrounding mountains. We walked along the beaches, knee deep into the waters and plopped into hammocks for the majority of the day. The hammocks are glorious- colors of the rainbow weaves tightly into large blankets and often secured on trees or sides of walls. Our night ended with a 2 mile jog beachside.

Day 2, however, was the highlight of this tiny beach town. We embarked Explora, the vessel which would introduce us to La Isla del Plata (Silver Island) after a fresh 45 km ride. Isla del Plata juts out of the empty waters and assumes the shape of a jagged mountain surrounded by enormous rocks and only minimal vegetation. The hike was short and sweet offering several priceless Bluefooted Boobie Spottings. These spectacular medium sized birds do not flee at the sight of humans but rather peer up curiously. The first sighting included a mother with her snow colored baby tightly entangled near her body. Baby patas azules (blue feet) are born completely white and gain their color as they age. They transform into grey, black and white birds with bright blue feet resembling large flippers. Our guide instructed us on determining gender by looking at pupils, size, and sound. The women are apparently more talkative... Who would have thought! I saw viejos y jovenes, mujeres y hombres, a mother alertly protecting two eggs nestled between two blue feet, some birds panting and thermoregulating with a shivering motion of their neck, some perched on acantilados (cliffs), and others in flight. They were everywhere and I was more than content. My tour was 100% in espanol, an attempt to fully immerse in the language. I've been picking up vocabulary left and right. After touring the somewhat dry and tree-less island, we embarked on the boat and parked in an area just meters from the shoreline but where the olas (waves) are more subtle. We saw huge turtles, the size of car tires swimming just beneath the surface. They swam in packs and did not shy way from the foreign sight of a boat. They swam up close and zoomed under, around, behind and in every direction they pleased. Then Explora lived up to her name and moved further from shore where we were surrounded in every direction by dozens perhaps hundreds of delfines (dolphins). In a synchronized fashion they scooped in and out of the water smoothly. On several occasions one show off dolphin would shoot straight up into the air and flop right back in stiffly holding posture. They seemed happy to entertain us and we were more than pleased to cheer in their shows. From here Explora ventured into area close to the northern coast of the Isla, where we were provided with snorkel gear. I'll admit. I almost end had a panic attack the first few minutes as adapting to breathing through my mouth, swimming with fishes of all colors of the rainbow, and swimming in the ocean... And then peace struck. I floated on the surface swimming only smoothly, following schools of fish, some small like my fingers and others much larger. They were stunning, some used abdominal muscles to sliver through the water gracefully and others used bright orange fins to paddle through the waters. There were striped fish, blue fish orange fish, plain fish, multicolored fish, and everything in between. The water was fresh, the sun bright and I was in an underwater heaven. Occasionally I felt an electric zap somewhere on my body, but we were comforted that these zings were harmless. So I swam on and on and on. Endlessly to say, I slept like a rock after this unforgettable adventure.

Day 3
Puerto Lopez, a beach town conveniently surrounded by tropical forests offers all sorts of adventure. So on day 3, we ventured into Rio Blanco land to join a local guide for monkey spotting. The hike begin in a tiny village in the surrounding foothills. There were families working in gardens, kids running in the streets, father son couplets riding motorcycles. It was precious. We were quickly sized for rain boots. Mine were a fancy bright yellow and I was even encouraged to borrow our guide's mother's Adidas pants hanging in her percha (clothesline), because my nike shorts weren't gonna cut it. I obliged and was thankful. Our hike although grade 5/5 in difficulty was quite the sight. My favorite part was the trees and the many parasitic vegetation that decorated the forest. Some parasites offered texture to the dull trees, some gave color, some provided dangling strings resembling something out of Avatar, some were just as large and prominent as the tree and creeped their way around it like a net engulfing its prey, some jut out the core and looked like sea creatures, and some bore fruit. With all the chaos and the reminiscent stories of our guide, I couldn't help think that every rope like structure was a venomous snake waiting to strike and every thing that brushed along my arm was a dog-sized spider ready to stare me down with it's many eyes. Thankfully I was repeatedly wrong. We hiked for the better part of the day before we actually heard the roars of the capuchins and other species of monkeys. They sat at the tippity top of the trees and as they creeped from on tree to the next the recently vacated branches would naturally flop back into a comfortable position. They were adorable, but high enough that detail couldn't be achieved. Their loud roars were certainly more ferocious than their lean and stout bodies. After 12 km, we returned to the small village and were greeted with a late lunch from two villager women. They tenderly cooked an elaborate meal in their casita, which was not greater than a medium sized room. The floor was dirt, the light was nonexistent, without space for cabinets the clutter was visible. This was their storage area, their kitchen, dining room, living room, and garage all in one. Something and everything hung from a nail in the shacks walls. Despite my fear of E. coli, parasites and every unfortunate microbe I learned in phase I of medical school, I ate like I'd been starved for days. Ofelia Candelaria had poured her heart and soul into this meal and had probably used the best ingredients on us, so I engulfed the chicken soup concoction; the hodge lodge of rice, lentils, boiled eggs, and beets; the fresh chicken leg (there was one less cluck in the backyard than when we arrived) and some sort of thick banana coconut juice. And I lived to tell the story.

Puerto Lopez was grand and full of outdoor adventure. I'm one shade more tan with speckled mosquito bites and unfortunately sans credit card and iPhone, but it was an adventure I'll forever cherish.

Guayaquil

The warm and hydrating climate, the drab white buildings mixed with random colonial architecture  reminds me that I am in South America. The honking horns and adventurous taxi rides with complete Spanish immersion are continuous affirmations. I've only been here one day and I'm already diving into travel mode- comfty walking shoes, makeup-less face, phone-in-hand combo replaced with camera-in-hand, and Spanish language mode switched on. I love the language challenges, or rather opportunities. In fact, Christian and  I began the day with several local newspaper articles... This was not manageable without Webster's Spanish English pocket book and google, but we were able to read about the local soccer team and of course drama at the Oscars. We began the day at Iguana Park, probably the best way to do so. The name is not misleading. There are iguanas in literally all shapes and sizes under every tree, crossing every sidewalk and just out of reach of every toddler. They slowly and awkwardly creep across the park. Some are lone rangers and others huddle in massive groups. Many of them are asleep, awkwardly folding their front arms straight along their sides giving the false appearance that there arms are broken off. They're not timid, but rather apathetic towards the eager tourists. They wander seemingly without aim and some have nubs for tails from probable encounters with bratty children or worse-traffic of the nearby road. The older ones are large and lazy with more-than-normal dryness to their scales, less than bright color to their covering and with faces like that of the Grumpy Old Men characters, double chin and all. The journey then continued along Malecon 2000, which is a recently (relatively speaking) developed area that runs along Rio Guayas for just under two miles. But it's the end of this glorious walk that is the main feature. You begin with a slight slope of the sidewalk, paved roads turn to cobblestone, drab white building transform into colorful micro-buildings and music begins to fill the air. Then you reach step #1... And continue to step 444. The climb involves passing by various cafés that could easily be mistaken for a cute house rather than business location. Many of the doorways do, however, serve as an entrance for Ecuadorean family homes. Without shame, I inconspicuously peaked into several doorframes to get a brief glimpse into the life of a local. The houses were small, cluttered, often with several children sitting in front of an archaic television set (or even playing on the window sill). The kitchens and living rooms often appeared inseparable and many middle-aged men slumped shirtlessly on the couch. At the top of the 444th step there's a small lighthouse which provides further opportunity to climb stairs, and more importantly sweat. But rest assured they had uva (grape) powerade to replenish those lost electrolytes. Today's tour included various churches, gardens, and sites. One day down,
many many more to go.

Written from Hostel Dreamkapture.