brief road trip

one of the bad parts of having lesbian friends is that even when you are at their house and a huge, hairy spider chooses that time to reveal itself, you, as the man, are still responsible for getting rid of it. which i did, valiantly, with a cup and a book. i brought it outside and released it into the yard, still alive. it was killed later by the landlord. it was said that these types of spiders always hang out in twos, so that another one would rear its wicked head soon.

then, me, anna, merryn and sophia (two of our roomates) took a road trip this weekend. we were going to leave at 1130pm to get to guayaquil by 330 in order to take the 5am bus to montañita that we knew existed. but, upon overhearing our conversation about our trip, one of our colleagues who has been in cuenca for 5 years decided to add his two cents. he suggested that, because beyond the shadow of a doubt there is a bus leaving cuenca for guayaquil at 1230, we should take that because then we wouldnt have to wait around as long for the coveted 5 oclock bus. we took his word for it because he said, "beyond the shadow of a doubt" and he has been in cuenca for 5 years and must have something to show for it. so, we all got to the bus station at around 11 to be early and low and behold, there was no 1230 bus. there was a 130 bus and we made the most of it and played hearts for a while, but there went our chance to catch the 5am direct bus to montañita. its a shame when people have to be the person who knows things - and then they are wrong...

it occured to me once we got on the bus that we hadnt taken an overnight bus in quite some time. we have been pretty much entrenched in our cuencan lives. this is good. it has occured to me some time ago that it is far more useful to be in a place so as to get to know a few things rather than to just travel around and get impressions of any things. so many times, while traveling, ive left a place thinking, for example, that the weather is bad there when really they were just having a bad week. then, other things started happening to remind me that it has been a while since my last overnight bus trip. thoughts and feelings started reemerging. there was the cockroach crawling over the seats across the aisle. there were the crying babies begging their parents for coca-cola. there was the rhythmic thump of the many closing windows as soon as the bus started moving. of course, i opened mine wider. the person in back of us then had the predictable audacity to close our window. i opened it back and shot a mean look. then, soon, the person across the aisle, who had not been bothered by the roach on his seat and who had hoped to calm his baby down by feeding it coke, leaned over and requested that i close the window. i shook my finger at him, "we need air, right?" -- "not that much though." i laughed and sat back in my seat. he cuddled with his woman for warmth.

when we got into guayaquil, it really occured to me how long i had been in cuenca (yes, i know its only been a bit over a month). the city pace was mesmerizing to me. the women were dressed with less clothing, and the men were not too shy to knock into you if you were in their way, or slowing them down. the humidity was very uncomfortable. i immidiately began longing for the fresh mountain air that i complain about while im in cuenca. fortunately, busses leave for montañita every half hour or so, its just that most of them arent direct. since we missed the 5am direct bus by an hour, the next one would have been at 1pm. anna worked out the bus tickets while sporting a cockroach broach. but we got on an indirect bus instead.

meanwhile, last week sometime, my elbow began bothering me and when i looked, i saw that there was a bump forming. it could have been a bug bite. it could have been an ingrown hair. i dont have hair on my elbow, though. later that day, it got a white head, so, i popped it and chalked it up as a strangely placed pimple. the pain, however, did not go away, and by thursday, my elbow was swollen and oozing a blood/puss mixture at random moments. that night, i began squeezing as much puss and blood out as possibe and in my mind, i wondered if i should actually stay in cuenca and go to the doctor. swollen elbows are not good. before we got on the bus, i put on a band-aid, finally, and by the morning it was soaked through.

on the first bus from guayaquil, everything went fine. i got a seat in the front and after passing through the outskirts of guayaquil, which took about an hour, as there are shacks and shantytowns with unpaved streets and garbage pouring down the sides of hills into those streets - people walking barefoot and gated comunities of pastel colored houses right beside, i fell asleep. woke up in the town where the bus was to connect to the other bus and banged my elbow on the door on the way out. i noticed now that my elbow had swelled considerably and surmied that perhaps the infection had traveled to other parts of my arm. i wondered how long it would take for the infection to get to my bone, requiring my arm to be cut off. it seemed weird to become disfigured by a pimple - or was it a spider bite? i had just woken up though and when i did fully, i noticed that in this town, santa elena, they were preparing, at various stalls on the sidewalks, plantain balls stuffed with meat. it was something i had been looking for, yet i didnt want one at 8 in the morning. i was happy, though, that i may be able to find one later.

the second bus was supposed to be the shorter ride. in the end, it was - timewise - but in reality it took much longer than the first. the road we took was littered with speed bumps, so we drove 2 miles per hour and frequently rose and fell like a wave. there were more views of starving dogs on teh side of the road than there were ocean views. one man came on the bus and gave a 10 minute speech, introducing his wonder-vitamin to the crowd. this vitamin cured many illnesses but did nothing for infections slowly eating away the meat of your arm. everybody on the bus bought a bottle. oe thing about ecuador - really every latin american country ive traveled to: if someone comes on the bus selling something - whatever it is - 80% of people will buy it. its a good tip for anyone looking to make a buk or two. one family sitting close to us, by the time we got off, had vitamins, gum, three empanadas and two bags of plantain chips. at one point a family got on the bus and one woman requested to sit in the seat next to me. i was sitting aisle-side. i got up to let her in, and while i was up, her grandmother slipped in front of me and took the seat i was sitting in. i still have not mastered angry spanish, so there was no way to really express my indignation. i could not push her because she was old. she laughed a lot and i didnt.

when we got to montañita, i noticed that the ceviche carts that i wanted to see were not there. also, the hotel we had stayed in last time, which we led our roomates to, was under construction. the sign was up, but the hotel was not there. there were concrete blocks, but the hotel itself was hollowed out. we went to another hotel - slightly more expensive, but with hammocks.

the first day was spent sleeping, and when we woke up, anna and i went to go swim. there was not even the threat of sunshine and the wind was whipping a bit during these hours. anna chose not to go in, but was nice about coming anyway. the third part of my body to touch the water after my ankles and knees was my elbow. i had faith in the powers of salt water and while i was in the water, i squeezed visciously at my elbow trying to fill the sea with puss. in order to get farther than waist deep into the water, you needed to walk out about 500 feet into the ocean and nobody else was doing so except surfers. i got out and dried off ,went home and showered and re-dressed my cut. my arm was swollen and tender to the touch. sans street-ceviche, we all went out to eat dinner at a restaurant, where i ordered ceviche. i knew well that it wasnt quite the same as what is to be found at the street-carts, but for merryn and sophia, it was their first ceviche and aside from the octopus, they liked it a lot so i wasnt too persistant about my complaints that there was no street-cart ceviche. it was something that i kept to myself for the most part. we played hearts and waited for an appropriate time to go check out the fruity drink guy. the same guy from july was there making drinks, although he had changed his name and did not have maracuyá this time. he wore sunglasses and danced while we drank. he did have mango. i started the night off with a mango/rum drink. ended it with a taco from the taco stand. in between, we danced at the sand-floored clubs with the bonfires on the dance floors.

the dogs in montañita are very well fed and very well groomed. their coats are shiny and they are friendly. one amily of droopy eared dogs came and begged somethign of us. aside from some lack of hair on one of their asses, these dogs were very handsome. the cats seemed all to be of the same family. all seemed some sort of siamese mixture. one albino version of these cats came with us to eat dinner the night at the restaurant. she was clean, but we didnt want her to touch us or jump on us. another grey version of this cat came to me while i ate ceviche and meowed quite desperately. i gave her a piece of fish and it did not satisfy her.

the next morning, the ceviche guys were there. it turns out they are only there on the weekend days. i ate an oyster ceviche for breakfast and talked to the vendor who explained that the rest of the week was spent searching the sea for oysters. he dives down to 40 feet without a tank, looing for oysters and has a secret stash in a part of the ocean that only he knows about. i thanked him for all his hard work.
to wash down the breakfast fish, i had an avocado milkshake.

that day i took a huge nap and my elbow swelled so that the bone no longer protruded even when i bent my elbow. people in the mountains call people from the coast monkeys. i asked my class why this was and they said they didnt know, its just what they are called. the first time i heard this, i immidiately disliked the person who said it. since, i have grown to understand that since there is not the same history as what we have in the u.s., there is probably not the same connotation for calling people monkeys. lonely planet says its because the people from the mountains think the coastal people are lazy. i slept 3 hours that day but did manage to go swimming with the other three. we went out further and rode waves back in.

that night, the fruity drink guy was not there, he had a wedding to go to. so, we went to another guy, but it started raining before long and even though he overloaded his fruity drinks with evaporated milk, he was good and it was unfortunate that we had to seek cover so early. he was called "the poet", though he recited no poetry. that night i realized that my raincoat is actually a windbreaker. then i realized that when i bought the jacket, the guy told me that it wasnt really that good for rain and my rational was that if it was raining so hard, i wouldnt be outside anyway. i like the jacket. there were flashing lights down the beach a little and insead of going home, we walked towards these lights. as it turns out, they were coming from charos

the next morning, it occured to me that i hadnt showered in quite some time and that the hot water from the shower would have actually been good for my infection. i went out to get my final oyster ceviche and though about it. when i came back to the room, i looked at my cut and the puss was coming out on its own. i squeezed a little bit and it flew out. it turns out there were two infections, and i figured that if one came out, the other would as well. it did! and they left behind to holes. to voids to be filled with new skin, and meat.

we left at 1pm and i left happy that i got to try the best ceviche in south america once again. the water was good and the fruity drinks were tasty. i wonder what kind of scar my elbow voids will leave...


in cat news:

i now live iwith 5 women. at first, there were 3 guys (including me) and 4 women. since then, ne guy moved out because his room was not private enough. a girl moved in - this girl being a friend from home of another girl who already lived here, who is in ecuador for a bit of time. another guy got broken up with and had to leave.
there has been talk among some of the women of the house of detesticling the male cat due to the inevitable and approaching incestuous situation brewing. ironically, these thoughts are not being thought by the proper owner of the cats (who might, in fact, not think: ie. me, anna, merryn in the kitchen one day. owner of cats comes in crying: "my dog in new york died." normally a sad situation worthy of sympathy at the very least. merry moves over to hug the berieved. over the shuolder of the berieved, merryn makes a face of, "huh?" -- "i left him with y friends and he died of a broken heart. he missed me so much." knowing how inept of a pet owner she is, i turned blue not laughing. also, she failed to consider that perhaps her friends starved her dog, or, let it out into the streets and got it run over... predictably, not another word about the dog ever uttered), but rather by the still large contingency of resident women. according to them, male cats are terrors when with testicles. women cats dont like sex anyway, and when women cats have babies too young, they suffer a severe form of post-partem depression that sticks with them their whole lives. plus, there are complaints as to the possible post-toxic-like appearance of their offspring.
despit whatever of their claims may be true, i have taken it upon myself to be the lone crusader for that continued attachment of the only other pair of testicles residing in 9-52 arízaga. it is my duty. in doing so, i have decided to keep the male cat close to me. i am teachign him the finer points of self defense (sticking my finger in either his face or his belly until he swipes at it) and although i dont openly endorse it to the cats, i do not disapprove of teh feeding system theyve worked out where the male cat gets the lions share.
aside from these outlets, as well as my continued, vigilant, and persistant verbal sparring with my snip-happy compañeras (who have been known to hold the male cat back until the female cat has eaten her share), i call upon you, dear reader, to join in the crusade: to keep our pets full and natural and to allow me another male roomate.