A Day Tour with Many R-Egrets

Seven-thirty in the morning is mighty early when there is no coffee maker in the rented apartment. Honestly, these days it is early for any reason. However, we were standing outside of the next-door Wyndham hotel waiting of our tour guide to pick us up. When he arrived, we met Stuart, our guide until the end of the tour at 5:30pm.

Stuart was jovial and had great English. Jovial is not my adjective of choice in the morning. Perhaps by noon, I can handle jovial. Prior to noon, I prefer silent, quiet, non-communicative, or mute.

The initial part of the journey was getting to the boat. What we had anticipated was touring the Manglares Churute

Ecological Reserve where dolphins are prevalent. Somewhere, something was lost in translation. After driving for two hours, we reached the docks where our boat was waiting for us. This turned out to be a tour of two, not a group. At times, this can be beneficial, but other times, you may not get what you are expecting. This turned into the latter.

Boarding the boat, Ron asked Stuart how long we would be on the water. Stuart said about one and one half hours. This gets me thinking, we arrived at the boat around 9:30, the time on the water would get us back around 11am. What are we going to do from then until 5:30pm to fill up the time? This was not a good omen.

Off we go, passing by numerous shrimp farms, but all that is

visible are huge pumps that pump up shrimp filled water, and then release the shrimpless water back into the river. To say this was not breathtaking is an understatement. What did cause some excitement, alarm, and praise for life vests, was the fact that at about 30 minutes out, the engine started smoking heavier than the Marlboro man. If we were on land, they would have rated this as a three-alarm situation. We had to turn back to get another boat.

Now one needs to realize that a mangrove tree is not a thing of beauty to begin with. The bottoms look like something

from a Disney horror movie when brooms made of twigs come to life. With green leafy tops, it really makes for a contradiction in beauty. Imaginably, it is because we are generally not privy to the root system of most trees as obvious as these, it offends our sensibilities.

What these trees are beneficial for as their contribution to this tour is they lend their branches to birds for roosting, resting, and nesting. If the hills are alive with the sound of music, the mangroves are live with our feathered friends. For the most part, there were egrets, but there were a few pelicans, herons, and frigates. Being totally underwhelmed, but the showing of feathers, I could not help but believe that those who raved about this tour have not been to Belize, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, or the Galapagos for starters. Okay, bragging aside, having been to all of the above, bird watching reached an incredible level in any of the above.

About a half hour more of motor boating, we were guided in looking at a couple of islands. Again, big whoop! Then we

spotted dolphins. Okay, now this is getting interesting. I was an avid fan of Flipper when I was a child. Ron swam with dolphins in Tanzania. We like dolphins. There were two small groups of about five to six in each group. Regrettably, no one trained these dolphins like the ones you see in the movies. They did not swim close to the boat. They did not dance backwards on their tail. They did not act all that friendly at all. For one wild minute, I was tempted to jump overboard and feign drowning just to test their level of commitment to their fellow creatures. My sense was that unless I had a fish in both hands, I would have been out of luck.

When Stuart finally called it quits, we reached shore by 11:45am. He asked if we wanted to see a beach. Sure, why not? Well being born on the shore, most beaches do not impress me; this was no different. Sandy colored sand and water. Not much to brag about. I never left the car, but Ron wanted to walk in the sand for a few minutes. Stuart and I waited.

For lunch, Stuart took us to an outdoor food court where they cater to those who work up an appetite from sunning

themselves on the beach. Most of the options were seafood, but we went to one that Stuart recommended. Ron and I chose the same thing. Called cazuelas, this is dish is made from mashed plantains, and then mixed with your choice of fish, shrimp, or mixtures of both with a sauce on top, and then baked. It was heavenly!

So now, both of us are wondering what we are going to get for the outrageous amount of money we shelled out for the day. Stuart was not full of suggestions, so Ron offered that he could take us to the bus station and then guide us in buying our tickets for Alausí

tomorrow. He was amenable to doing this, so Ron pushed a bit further adding that we really could use a supermarket for dinner fixings. The bus station in Guayaquil is like a horrendously large mall or a city unto itself. Not only is it a gigantic bus station, but there are supermarkets, stores for mobile phone, toys, clothing, pharmacies and just about anything else you could possibly need. It was incredible and immaculately clean.

Our tickets for our 4 ½ hour ride to Alausí cost us $5 each. The cost of transportation has blown me away. The shuttle from Cuenca to Loja was $12 each. There were six of us in the van for a total of $70 collectively for a 4-hour trip. I cannot imagine how much the drivers must earn.

We had our tickets, our groceries and directions for where to go within the terminal to get our bus tomorrow. Stuart dropped us off at 4:00pm.

Do I have r’egrets? I have quite a few.

Pin It Now!

Dolphins to Monkeys

Being punctual, we were sitting outside waiting for our tour guide to show up at 8am as they told us he would, but at 8:2o, he finally showed, and took us to the van. There 2 Norwegian young woman were being roasted alive waiting for us. After he had us captive, the guide took off again by foot into the streets once again, leaving all four of us to prematurely experience what hell must be like. Getting out of the van was not a option; there was no shade to hide under. The driver returned alone, drove off and picked up 2 others at yet another hotel, followed by 2 more from where we started. I wonder if they were not ready when he went initially to get them, so we had to make a return trip.

Along the route to the beach, our guide and driver stopped at the outdoor market, at a car parts place, and some roadside stands, all for unknown reasons. We all suspected he was doing his weekly shopping or running errands for extra money. We didn't get to the beach where our boat was waiting until 10:30. For those of us who were going snorkeling, they fitted them with fins and a mask. I had no intention of going in the water. Little did I realize at the time I had no choice.

All of the dhows, the boats they use, looked lovely as they floated out at sea during low tide; however, I had no idea how they were going to get us out to one of them. Thankfully, I did not wear jeans today, because we had to walk to the boat. Yes, we walked about the length of six blocks wading through the water to the frick'in boat. The other nugget we had not been warned about was that you cannot go barefoot through the water due to sea urchins and coral that will slice your feet open. I had on my Crocs sandals, Ron his Birkenstocks (is water good for leather?), but the others were not all so lucky. The couple from Uganda actually did go barefoot rather than ruin their good footwear. It took them twice the time to reach the boat as the rest of us. Mountainous lumps of coral, hardened over the ages were treacherous to walk over, causing each couple to work as a team in stabilizing each other to make it safely, or  cameras were going to become floaters. By the time we reached the boat, the water was up to my knees, approaching my thighs. Since I am taller than most of the others, they were practically wading.
 

Basically, the Lonely Planet book had it correct, Frommer's forgive me. A number of dhows chase after the dolphins and stalk them like suspects in a murder mystery. Really, I felt like we were on a wet version of a fox hunt. Dolphins were the foxes, dhows were the dogs chasing them down, and those of us diving in after them were the hunters. Dolphins being intelligent, love this game of hide and seek and can dive deep and reemerge a distance away. The way the next 2 hours went were like this. Dolphins were spotted, never more than 4 and probably the same 4 the entire time, what would we know? All boats would rush over to where they were swimming, all divers would jump in the water to catch a glimpse, the dolphins would freak out, and swim away. Divers would climb back in the boat. Repeat scenerio. Repeat scenerio. Repeat scenerio. 

At the last attempt to witness dolphin majesty, the 2 Norwegian, the 2 Brits, and Ron started feeling something strange. Jellyfish were stinging them. Each of them had burning little red bumps, Ron the least, but he did pull out a bit of a barb from one. No one became ill, just uncomfortable for an hour or so. That was the end of the good will hunting for dolphins.

Back to shore, the tide came in a bit, so the water was higher, meaning the boat could get 2 blocks closer to shore then when we went out. Soaking wet, we went to a lunch spot on the site, included in the fee. Ah, the fee for the tour was a topic of conversation. The Uganda couple paid $30 each for theirs, the Brits paid $50 each, the Norwegian and we paid $40 each. The Brits fee did not even include the Jungle tour, which ours did. The Ugandans thought they were paid up for seeing the monkeys and the Norwegians were clueless about the second part of the tour.

When the guide came and said "Are we ready to see the monkeys?" everyone said sure, thinking we were all going to get this extra. When we arrived, he announced we were the only ones paid up and the others would have to pay 10,000 shilling a piece to go forth. The Brits joined up, the rest stayed behind. We were issued umbrellas being the rain forest, following the local guide, a sweet young man, like little ducklings. He pointed out red mahogony, regular mahogony, different plants, insects, and even a fresh water crab. We were all hot, humid, sticky from traipsing through the Indian Ocean twice getting to and from our boat, all we wanted was to see the famous Red Colabus monkeys. This is the only place in the world where they exist. Our guide was reciting things like he had learned them for the school play, so we felt horrible when we pushed him along. One question lead to detailed responses, prolonging the experience. We all learned not to ask more questions. Finally, we had to say "Just show us the monnnkey." At that, he walked us back to our van. We thought we missed out for bad behavior; no monkeys for us. Instead, we had to walk down the dirt road we drove in on and to the forest across the street. This is where it gets fun.

Ron being the eternal social worker, tells the two Norwegian girls to follow us across the street, since we have left the paid area. The guide, the two Brits, and I are up ahead and almost to the monkey habitat. The guide turns around and sees two intruders and asks them where their tickets are, when Ron pipes up "They are with me" like that should hold some authority. Unless they could produce tickets, the guide refused to take another step, so no one was going to see the monkeys. I told Ron more than once when I was a kid, I loved reading Ann Landers, the advice columnist. My favorite answer she would provide to writers is M.Y.O.B. Mind Your Own Business. He just refuses to follow the advice. You get him on a van with 6 others and he is trying to orchestrate everyone's life. He thinks he is a combination of social worker, cruise director, entertainment director, and guest relations all in one. Finally, finally, we were able to see the monkeys. Adorable! Now, I can say I saw the monkeys that only exist in Zanzibar. My life is complete now.

When we reached the hotel, I literally showered with my cotton safari pants on. It was the best way to get them washed and get the salt water out of them at the same time. Then, I soaked them in more laundry detergent along with my t-shirt and showered myself yet again. 

Later this evening, we went to The Spice Road Restaurant for dinner. We went first to the Archipelago Restaurant, but it is Halal (Muslim law), so no alcohol is served, including beer. Ron suggested I go over to the Monsoon Restaurant, buy a couple of beers and meet him at the Archiplago Restaurant, but when the waiter wanted to know why I did not want the bottles opened, he refused to sell them to me. Aside from the beer, the menu was not inviting for me since it was mostly fish, making the beer a moot issue.

When we went into The Spice Road Restaurant, there was 1 other diner in the whole place. Hoping this was not a sign, we allowed ourselves to be seated. By the time we left, they were turning people away, not free tables.

Pin It Now!