Close encounters of the Ecuadorian kind
In addition to this blog, I am keeping a weekly journal of our experiences. It’s from this journal that I came across this sentence: “We have finished our first week in Ecuador, and I have come to the following conclusions… [the] people are generally kind and generous.” Now, this was only my first week’s impression and well before I heard of how dangerous Ecuador is, with the various accounts of robberies and thefts, and before our dealings with the locals taking advantage of the gringos. However, when people ask me now what I like about Ecuador, of course I say the weather and the beautiful scenery, landscapes and adventure, but overall, it has been the people who have stood out the most for me.
This is not to say, that everyone here has greeted us with open arms. Some have greeted us with open wallets, looking for us to fill them. So, while yes, a few taxi drivers have taken us for a ride (excuse the pun), and I was chastised by the “mom” of the little mom & pop tienda convenience store for paying $20 for delivery of furniture ($10 would have been more than reasonable, maybe even $5), I can’t complain because I just figure it’s part of a gringo tax. After all, $2 for a cab ride seemed reasonable, even when I found out later it should only be a buck. Though the constant need to be on guard against being taken advantage of is frustrating, we have also learned that much of everything in Ecuador is negotiable. For example, a taxi driver will quickly drop his price from $3 to $2 when challenged, and merchants will reluctantly take your last offer when you start to walk away.
On the other hand, people go out of their way to be of help and assistance. And it started as soon as we arrived in Ecuador. The drivers from the university patiently waited while our flight was delayed and immigration held our children hostage. A secretary from the university graciously met us at what would be our home for the next year, staying until close to midnight, with her three-year-old child in tow, making sure we were comfortable. Even our new neighbor (who also was our landlady) helped out with a blanket when we were one short. And our guardian angel, Ana, spent hours helping us purchase supplies for our new home when she barely knew us.
Sometimes there were these random acts of kindness, where people took it as part of their mission to help us out. People would offer assistance for no apparent reason, other than the fact that we must have looked so desperate with our sad, puppy eyes, trying in our broken Spanish to get things done. And they help in such a kind, pleasant way. Not like the New Yorker who once provided assistance explaining to my wife and me that, “nah, ya don’t gotta pay the meter after 10 o’clock ya friggin idiot.” (ok, I added the last part, but you get the point… New Yorker’s are also very helpful; it just comes with that New York edge.) Many times it would be a bi-lingual Ecuadorian who will intervene and negotiate for us at the bank, the phone store or the supermarket (sometimes even when they are not so bi-lingual, but want to practice their limited English). But, at other times, they take it upon their mission to help the gringos out. There was the security guard at the Internet office where we were becoming regulars because of our many failed attempts to get our service connected. Perhaps he was impressed by the fact that he saw our picture with the U.S. Ambassador to Ecuador in the local newspaper, but he was gracious even before our “celebrity.” Using our broken Spanish, we explained our dilemma and he personally walked us to another office around the corner and explained to the people there of our continuing saga to get our Internet connected. When we finally got the Internet installed, we returned to pay our gratitude to the guard and were met enthusiastically with hugs and well wishes. When I finally learn more Spanish, I will take him out for a beer. Another time there was the kind merchant in the jungle town of Mishualli, when we arrived in the pouring rain after our seven hours bus trip. He went out of his way to help us find our lodging and to get a ride there. However, in this one taxi town, apparently the taxi went home, and several calls to our lodge went unanswered. He even ventured out into the rain in search of assistance. And while we wanted a jungle adventure, we did not imagine having to pitch camp in the rain on our first night of arrival. Fortunately, we found another merchant who taxied us to our accommodations. And here in Ambato, there was the little old lady with a cane, who limped along several blocks to show us where we could get our laundry done.
Many of these encounters were just ships passing in the night. Others seem destined to be part our Ecuadorian lore. One such experience occurred, in Otavalo, a town about two hours north of Quito known for its outdoor market and sales of traditional Ecuadorian clothing and crafts. On our first visit there we happened upon a Mexican restaurant and its owner, who was eager to practice his limited English with us, and we were happy to accommodate. His courtesy and graciousness extended far beyond traditional restaurant service, as he made several phone calls to help facilitate our bus ride back to Ambato. So we were fortunate to have a “friend” in Otavalo for our next Ecuadorian adventure, for what we say, “can only happen in Ecuador.” It was towards the end of a pleasant visit with Greer’s mother and she wanted to visit the market for some souvenirs and Christmas shopping. We boarded the bus in Quito for our day trip to Otavalo with plans to return that evening so my mother-in-law’s could make her 6am flight from Quito the next morning. With gifts in tow, we made our way back to the bus station, only to be informed that buses could not get to Quito because of a religious festival that was blocking the road. We could take a bus half way and then walk through the festival and hope for a ride or bus on the other side (a great idea in the middle of the night, in the middle of Ecuador, with my wife, 77-year-old mother-in-law, and two boys). We were astonished that the main road to Quito could be blocked by a festival, and that no one cared to mention that fact as we boarded our bus for our Otavalo excursion. At first we thought it was a scam to bilk some gringos as one taxi driver offered to drive us to Quito for $60 and quickly bumped it up to $100. The other options of waiting for the road to open (at 5am) or to spend the night in Otavalo did not accommodate my mother-in-law’s early morning flight. Feeling somewhat desperate, we retreated back to our only friend in Otavalo. He surveyed the situation and confirmed what we had been told, and that the only alternative route was a four-hour ride through a dangerous, unpaved, mountainous pass. After many phone calls and a couple of hours, he found a driver who he trusted and had a four-wheel drive that would safely get us to our destination. We laughed, took pictures, he even led us in a prayer asking for our safety, parted ways and my mother-in-law made her flight.
There are many more of these close encounters of the Ecuadorian kind, and undoubtedly more to come, but these will have to wait until the second installment. However, five months into our adventure, I can still say, “I have come to the following conclusions… [the] people are generally kind and generous.” Only I would take out the word “generally” and add the word “unequivocally.”
In addition to this blog, I am keeping a weekly journal of our experiences. It’s from this journal that I came across this sentence: “We have finished our first week in Ecuador, and I have come to the following conclusions… [the] people are generally kind and generous.” Now, this was only my first week’s impression and well before I heard of how dangerous Ecuador is, with the various accounts of robberies and thefts, and before our dealings with the locals taking advantage of the gringos. However, when people ask me now what I like about Ecuador, of course I say the weather and the beautiful scenery, landscapes and adventure, but overall, it has been the people who have stood out the most for me.
This is not to say, that everyone here has greeted us with open arms. Some have greeted us with open wallets, looking for us to fill them. So, while yes, a few taxi drivers have taken us for a ride (excuse the pun), and I was chastised by the “mom” of the little mom & pop tienda convenience store for paying $20 for delivery of furniture ($10 would have been more than reasonable, maybe even $5), I can’t complain because I just figure it’s part of a gringo tax. After all, $2 for a cab ride seemed reasonable, even when I found out later it should only be a buck. Though the constant need to be on guard against being taken advantage of is frustrating, we have also learned that much of everything in Ecuador is negotiable. For example, a taxi driver will quickly drop his price from $3 to $2 when challenged, and merchants will reluctantly take your last offer when you start to walk away.
On the other hand, people go out of their way to be of help and assistance. And it started as soon as we arrived in Ecuador. The drivers from the university patiently waited while our flight was delayed and immigration held our children hostage. A secretary from the university graciously met us at what would be our home for the next year, staying until close to midnight, with her three-year-old child in tow, making sure we were comfortable. Even our new neighbor (who also was our landlady) helped out with a blanket when we were one short. And our guardian angel, Ana, spent hours helping us purchase supplies for our new home when she barely knew us.
Sometimes there were these random acts of kindness, where people took it as part of their mission to help us out. People would offer assistance for no apparent reason, other than the fact that we must have looked so desperate with our sad, puppy eyes, trying in our broken Spanish to get things done. And they help in such a kind, pleasant way. Not like the New Yorker who once provided assistance explaining to my wife and me that, “nah, ya don’t gotta pay the meter after 10 o’clock ya friggin idiot.” (ok, I added the last part, but you get the point… New Yorker’s are also very helpful; it just comes with that New York edge.) Many times it would be a bi-lingual Ecuadorian who will intervene and negotiate for us at the bank, the phone store or the supermarket (sometimes even when they are not so bi-lingual, but want to practice their limited English). But, at other times, they take it upon their mission to help the gringos out. There was the security guard at the Internet office where we were becoming regulars because of our many failed attempts to get our service connected. Perhaps he was impressed by the fact that he saw our picture with the U.S. Ambassador to Ecuador in the local newspaper, but he was gracious even before our “celebrity.” Using our broken Spanish, we explained our dilemma and he personally walked us to another office around the corner and explained to the people there of our continuing saga to get our Internet connected. When we finally got the Internet installed, we returned to pay our gratitude to the guard and were met enthusiastically with hugs and well wishes. When I finally learn more Spanish, I will take him out for a beer. Another time there was the kind merchant in the jungle town of Mishualli, when we arrived in the pouring rain after our seven hours bus trip. He went out of his way to help us find our lodging and to get a ride there. However, in this one taxi town, apparently the taxi went home, and several calls to our lodge went unanswered. He even ventured out into the rain in search of assistance. And while we wanted a jungle adventure, we did not imagine having to pitch camp in the rain on our first night of arrival. Fortunately, we found another merchant who taxied us to our accommodations. And here in Ambato, there was the little old lady with a cane, who limped along several blocks to show us where we could get our laundry done.
Many of these encounters were just ships passing in the night. Others seem destined to be part our Ecuadorian lore. One such experience occurred, in Otavalo, a town about two hours north of Quito known for its outdoor market and sales of traditional Ecuadorian clothing and crafts. On our first visit there we happened upon a Mexican restaurant and its owner, who was eager to practice his limited English with us, and we were happy to accommodate. His courtesy and graciousness extended far beyond traditional restaurant service, as he made several phone calls to help facilitate our bus ride back to Ambato. So we were fortunate to have a “friend” in Otavalo for our next Ecuadorian adventure, for what we say, “can only happen in Ecuador.” It was towards the end of a pleasant visit with Greer’s mother and she wanted to visit the market for some souvenirs and Christmas shopping. We boarded the bus in Quito for our day trip to Otavalo with plans to return that evening so my mother-in-law’s could make her 6am flight from Quito the next morning. With gifts in tow, we made our way back to the bus station, only to be informed that buses could not get to Quito because of a religious festival that was blocking the road. We could take a bus half way and then walk through the festival and hope for a ride or bus on the other side (a great idea in the middle of the night, in the middle of Ecuador, with my wife, 77-year-old mother-in-law, and two boys). We were astonished that the main road to Quito could be blocked by a festival, and that no one cared to mention that fact as we boarded our bus for our Otavalo excursion. At first we thought it was a scam to bilk some gringos as one taxi driver offered to drive us to Quito for $60 and quickly bumped it up to $100. The other options of waiting for the road to open (at 5am) or to spend the night in Otavalo did not accommodate my mother-in-law’s early morning flight. Feeling somewhat desperate, we retreated back to our only friend in Otavalo. He surveyed the situation and confirmed what we had been told, and that the only alternative route was a four-hour ride through a dangerous, unpaved, mountainous pass. After many phone calls and a couple of hours, he found a driver who he trusted and had a four-wheel drive that would safely get us to our destination. We laughed, took pictures, he even led us in a prayer asking for our safety, parted ways and my mother-in-law made her flight.
There are many more of these close encounters of the Ecuadorian kind, and undoubtedly more to come, but these will have to wait until the second installment. However, five months into our adventure, I can still say, “I have come to the following conclusions… [the] people are generally kind and generous.” Only I would take out the word “generally” and add the word “unequivocally.”