Gualaquiza Bound – Freedom Calling

Welcome back everybody! Our time living in the Amazon rainforest has come to an end, and it’s high time this jungle dweller made her way back to civilisation.

At the end of my second week in the jungle, a week spent grappling with major raging technical issues and not getting anything useful done, I decided enough was enough. I upped sticks and left for Babylon. With a taxi called to catch the 12pm bus, I waited around, but it did not come. So, another taxi came instead and took me back to habitation: Gualaquiza. From there I would catch a bus back over the Andes to Cuenca.

I meant to catch the 12pm bus because the four hour journey would mean getting to Cuenca around 4pm, when it would still be light. Daylight hours are from about 6am to 7pm on the equator, even though I just assumed the days would be long and sunny with the sun setting late. I got into Gualaquiza bus station just as the 12pm bus was leaving, meaning I had time to spare until the next one.

Gualaquiza bus station is, especially in comparison to the Guayaquil one, a tiny building. I bought my ticket from the 16 Agosto ticket office, they took my passport number, etc, etc. With time to kill and it being lunchtime, I headed for the nearest restaurant I could get to, bags and all. With the town being rural in the extreme, I was the only foreigner, but considering that both Terra Frutis and the Fruit Haven properties are close by, they’re used to random white people showing up.

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It was time to break out into my rusty Spanish after 2 weeks of English, and I did well. I ordered something (luckily there were pictures) and was rewarded with my first true taste of South American cuisine – meat, meat, rice and chips. A pretty standard dish as I was to discover on my subsequent meanderings.

Serving both chips and rice seems a little heavy and over-doing it from a western cuisine perspective, but far from being some odd backwater town thing, I found this to actually be the norm. I’m more a fan of good old chips, so tended to scoff those and leave most of the rice, as it’s quite stodgy and filling eating a plate of carbs!

Meat is a staple of any dish down here, and after my time eating clean and simple foods, I was slightly concerned about how I would cope on my 4-hour bus ride to come. This was quickly taken over with both hunger and excitement at wolfing down some ‘proper’ food. I was fine, as it turned out.

I can still remember this meal incredibly clearly due to my sheer excitement at having a meal I was used to! Turns out my upbringing and genes are not compatible to a raw vegan, mostly fruitarian diet. I have a lot of respect for people who do follow this lifestyle, but as I’ve made clear, it’s not for me.

For now, let’s fast forward to Cuenca. The bus rides, while interesting and offering the opportunity to truly see more of a country and how the people live, are notable for not being overly life changing. HOWEVER, I speak too soon! For now I was back in the sphere of Bad Bus Movies (remember those?) This ride delivered a very disconcerting film about a woman who is kidnapped and forced into the servitude of a murderous gang, who take pleasure and have no qualms in using and dispatching women.

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Well I would like you to remember that I was travelling by myself and getting into Cuenca in the dark, so this probably stands out as the worst of my Bad Bus Movie experiences. This was one of only two times on my entire trip when I felt truly anxious and concerned, this due solely to the choice of movie.

Cuenca, as rationalised to myself and expected, was fine. I was getting into the swing of things – if you don’t act confident and in control, then you’ll never get a taxi – and was soon at the hostel I’d opted to stay in for the week. While I had loved my other hostel, breakfast hadn’t been included (despite it being claimed) due to the kitchen being renovated, i.e. non-existent.

This time, I opted for a rather funky looking abode, with paintings on the walls and breakfast included. One tip I will give you for travelling solo is to always be prepared. Whenever I was going somewhere, particularly in a taxi, I knew exactly where I was going, which direction, and memorised the route. For me, this isn’t hard since I have a great sense of direction, cultivated through years of trudging through the wilderness after my parents and wanting to know exactly where the car was and when the torture would end. Little did I know that this sense of adventure and trekking for decades would rub off on me…

The taxi driver hadn’t heard of the hostel before, which was odd, since it turned out to be rather popular. Neither did his operator, who he actually called to ask for help. Since I had screenshotted the route and where the hostel was, we managed to get there together. As hostels are usually harder to find than fancy signposted hotels, it took us some time to find the right door. What I will stress, is that people here want to help, and are generally really lovely, especially those who work in the service industries or who want to sell you something. South American hospitality generally goes beyond this though, as there is a deep sense of national pride still to be found here, as there was in all the places I visited.

Taking a taxi alone is perhaps best avoided, but inescapable at times if you’re travelling alone. The trick is to be prepared, in case of an innocent mishap like above, and be on your guard. If something doesn’t feel right, play it safe. I never had any incidents, with taxis or otherwise, as I always took official taxis, got my accommodation to call me one or used uber.

Back at my hostel though, the first person I bumped into was Dinamene, the nurse and one of the massage therapists at the festival! It was lovely to see a friendly face, and a Spanish-speaking one at that! I was tired, definitely not a Spanish speaker (at this point) and ready for food!

After being given the grand tour and shown to my bed, I headed back out, under direction of google maps, to a nearby pizza place. I just wanted a bite to eat and didn’t fancy wandering the streets at night, so I managed to just about order a massive slice of pizza and a coke, before I headed back to the land of nod.

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Conclusion

It seems like an age since I was in the rainforest, grappling with both my ongoing technical issues (still am!) and fighting with my fruit. The feelings I felt so strongly there (tiredness comes to mind!) have faded now, what with this crazy new temporary world we’re living in. Were those 2 weeks hard? Yes. Would I change any of it? No. I’ve learnt a lot and I feel as though I’ve lived hard! It’s the perfect introduction to how I want to live my life from now on – on the wild side!

It might seem incomprehensible that a mere 2 weeks has made such an impact on me. At the moment, these weeks pass quickly and blur into one, shocking me at how quickly they come round again! In my experience, I’ve had more defining moments in 1 to 2 week time frames than I can sum up here.

From learning Spanish in Chile, which kick-started my love affair with South American continent, to the manic 2 weeks before it trying to raise funds for while I was out there, and from my insane 1 week of filming my graduate film, to all those family holidays in the summer, a lot can happen in 2 weeks. And a lot can be done, should you choose to use your time wisely.

Of course, that’s not forsaking the long boring bits in between, of the year or so I spent saving and grinding out to get this trip off the ground. It’s all worth it in the long run, even if it’s only for 2 weeks!

Next time, I’ll be exploring my beloved Cuenca and discovering just how much I’m going to enjoy my solo travels.

P.S. Let me know if you’d like to see my original travel diary for further reading, and I’ll curate it and post it up! It’s a lot more in depth and really gives a taste of the ups and downs I experienced.

Until next time!

From me to you,

Jenni

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