Our rented apartment is behind the gate below. This is a gated community with a fierce gate guard and security is tight so GANNET2 is quite safe.
We frittered Saturday away doing chores as I wanted to get some sealant for our new windshield to make the lower edge watertight to protect the engine compartment. I found a local equivalent to a US hardware store.
Rusty wanted to walk and we came across the Cuenca Jeep and Ram dealership. When we see one of these we jokingly call them “our people” but it was odd seeing so many familiar signs in this Cuenca neighborhood.
I almost got used to seeing classic Land Rovers in Colombia and stopped photographing them but here in Ecuador they pop up when I least expect them.
You may get the idea we got a slow late start when I say the next thing on our mind was lunch. Layne found a well rated Chinese place and naturally the menu was in English. The theme of familiarity continued.
From the appetizer course we knew Chinese food was in our future beyond just this meal. The dumplings were delicious but they were sufficient to feed an army.
I ordered spicy chicken with vegetables because I like vegetables. Bloody hell this one was almost inedible. You know how spicy food is usually pretty bland? This plate was fit to incinerate your mouth. We did not bag this one to go but I fought a valiant losing battle against the spice.
The rib dish was odd but quite mild and thus pleasant by contrast. I never expected breading and sesame seeds but it was very edible.
There was a couple of women speaking English, one was 81 and the other 76, I know because they held a loud conversation covering a number of subjects and age came up as they discussed presidential ages and acuity. They had also had some impressive medical procedures recently but we will draw a veil over that. One was Chinese and the other was a woman from Massachusetts where she has grandchildren. We ate and listened. Then we heard the Chinese woman who spoke fluent English but was not from the US, say out loud “If they want my money they have to speak English” assimilation with the local culture was not on the menu apparently.
To make sure you understand this was a day moving at its own pace Layne had found a bagel shop.
All in English of course which obviously was the theme of the day. Another English speaker walked by with her dog and started talking to me. Horrors! Actually she was really nice and it turned out she was a lovely stereotype, a New Yorker who retired to Stuart Florida and who came to Ecuador after her husband died. And oh yes she was Jewish so when Layne showed up with a brown paper bag of bagels they just naturally started schmoozing. She was a really nice woman and funny, so it was an unexpected pleasure to meet her.
Ecuador is a frontier country for us on our journey to Ushuaia at the southernmost tip of the continent. This is the last country to use US style 110volt electricity so we will be plugging in with our converter. It’s also the last place we can stock up with dollars as the greenback is the local currency. So every day we draw our $500 limit from an ATM to stock up with US cash. Argentina loves dollars as their currency is collapsing and in Bolivia we can’t get in without paying an entry fee in US cash. The greenback is king.
So walking Rusty can be a hike to an ATM to get our cash allowance for the day. We like Banco de Guayaquil as it charges the smallest fee and as a bonus is easily visible as they like this bank to be a lurid shade of pink.
The stroll across the park can be a slow march as Rusty on his leash enjoys every single bush and tree trunk and roll on the grass.
Cuenca really is full of foreigners and all of the ones I’ve passed walking have been North Americans rather than Europeans. I can see why they like it here, inexpensive with moderate year round weather and a small city offering a full range of services. We’re nomads with no plans to settle down.
And here I am standing around waiting for Rusty. He’s worth my time.
The Rio Tarqui is a mountain river in full flood after all this rain.
This journey through South America is harder than it looks. It’s become much harder for me since Giovanni died. It’s hard to reflect on what his death means when caught up in the busy business of traveling. My sister in Scotland lost her election but she’s young and she’s got a fire burning in her that wasn’t dampened one bit by her loss.
My goal here is to express the good and the bad of this journey. It’s a physical drive but it’s also a mental journey to overcome my fears and in an age where people try to make money by selling their journeys electronically I belong to an older generation. I think of myself much more as the traveling biographer from the last century. However in a similar literary tradition I have done my time as a civil servant and now I am free to live as I please. I have no need to sell and no desire to tell my story for money. If you choose to look at my travels I hope you get something good from the experience but this is not a place for commerce. This is an old fashioned travelogue.
There are bad days and difficult days on the road and I don’t want to hide them. The road is not easy here and talking to other overlanders I find we have points in common, shared fears and stresses. As odd as this journey may look it’s not unique and we aren’t pioneers. When I write that Peru does not sound pleasant I am noting an accumulation of poor reviews and I am recording my impressions of those reports. When I get there I hope to be pleasantly surprised.
Peru is annoying because it’s huge, 2,000 miles long and offers two routes. One is easy and boring along the coastal flatlands on a good highway. The other route is on difficult mountain roads that pass the famous as well as the lesser known tourist attractions. And of course I want to arrive in Chile, a wealthy orderly well run country. And these two impulses are at war within me. I know we will see the sites in Peru but part of me wants to get it over. If that sounds conflicted there you are, the overlander’s dilemma. Add in Layne’s high altitude cough and freezing cold nights at 12,000 feet and you have a journey that will test you. So my goal is to acknowledge and accept these unknowns, share them with you and then press on.
It doesn’t mean I want to quit though some days I dream of the ease of living on the road in the US.
It just means I am not Stoic. And that is my failing and I apologize. It’s just the way I am, on the road or off it.
And that is what driving the PanAmerican Highway means to me. Have a great Sunday.
