My Walkabout Who needs to graduate anyways?

So I chose Ecuador of all places to learn Spanish. Ok I didn’t really choose, Ecuador is the result of “I want to go somewhere warm and sunny”, lazy research and the fact that Costa Rica was in its season of “bad weather” in October. So I put my trust in the handy advice of Mr Brock and bought a one-way ticket from Kansas City to Quayaquil via Washington and New York. God knows how I made it to Eucador as my flight was delayed by about 4 hours in Washington, but luckily my ticked allowed me time to be frolicking around in the airport doing sweet FA. So I made it to Quayaquil after around 30 hours travelling from Ames Iowa to Maryville Missouri to Kansas City Missouri to Washington, NY and South America. I was tired and this isn’t exactly tourism central. With my knowledge of Hola, Si, and No, I fretted for 20 minutes that my bag checked in at Kansas had not made it as the carousel continued to produce bags not my own, until no new bags came out. After panicking for a while 10 minutes and looking at other carousels, lo and behold my bag was chilling on the floor and being tagged to be taken away to the lost and found. Customs was another great adventure as I forgot about that great immigration form one fills out on the plane before arriving in another country. With my great research and organisation, “Address of residence in country” did not extend beyond “Montanita Spanish School” and the fact that I declared I had food was not a concern to them? Amongst a sea of people all I found Andreas, my ride from Quayaquil to Montanita. I was considerably tired, but couldn’t sleep for fear of dying in a foreign country considering the ride I experienced. Although I had all faith in Andreas, I didn’t have faith in Ecuadorian road rules which did not exist and included the car horn replacing indicator and traffic lights and seatbelts being incredibly optional… aswell as seats for that matter. The trip was not the best introduction to Ecuador (as an uncultured princess), the dry landscape and sad, old shacks was did not make me feel confident about my decision, but lo and behold, about 5km away from Montanita, the brown turned to green and weeds to fruit plantations. It was grey and wet, but I was once again optimistic. I arrived at the Montanita Cabanas and with my great amount of research, had no idea what I was doing, I needed help translating what the two lovely housekeepers were trying to tell me, but by the early afternoon I had met Marcoel at the Spanish School and was set-up to start surf lessons that afternoon. Spanish wasn’t to begin until the following week as the school was very busy at the cusp of the high season, but that was no worry to me aside having to spend a few more days fumbling my way through feeding myself and using the internet. I learned to stand up on the board quick with the help of Isidiro, “Number 2 surfer in Ecuador and Olympic representative”, he also spends his afternoons checking out girls’ asses and helping them “learn to surf”. I skipped on going out my first night as always im uncomfortable in new situations. The second night I ended up in town with no money after eating a cheap dinner, and was incredibly awkward sober amongst a sea of locals and tourists at Nativa Bambu. Needless to say I wanted the night to end quickly, and after awkwardly dancing with a local or 4 before finding an opportunity to escape, I found myself lost in the venue with no one I knew around. It was well beyond 3am and I couldn’t take it. I decided to leg it, but was both thankful and scared that a local was walking next to me. He spoke Spanish, I did not, so there was not much conversation to be had, but I made it over the river to the cabanas in one piece. He did ask me if I wanted to smoke week with him, but I kindly declined and said maybe tomorrow? Tomorrow came, Thursday night. Ladies Night. The concept is ladies pay 3 bucks to drink as much terrible booze for 2 hours, if youre a boy, 6 dollars; just? I don’t think I drank my moneys worth, because man those drinks were pure gasoline mixed with sugar. Having pre-drunk myself sufficiently I was not concerned that I found myself walking towards the beach by myself, and by myself I mean with the 30-something year old Ecuadorian man to blow some cocaine. Whenever that was a good idea I don’t know. Busily doing my business, I turned around to find the man had pulled out his incredibly large wang. This probably wasn’t a good point in time to be by myself, and (although my memory is a bit hazy), I think I shoved 5 dollars into his hand and tried legging it aside him grabbing me stopping me from going. Eventually I made it back to Ladies night at Hola Ola, still alive and not raped. Pretty good for day two. The rest of the night is a blur, but I was a bit of a dirty rat on the d-floor and whatever the dance was I wad being told I was doing with Roberto Rodrigues, I feel it was a bit beyond just “salsa”. I made it back to the cabanas in one piece with the help of my roomie Tim, but that did involve the newly named “wang-man” following us back over the river. Incredibly high, I wasn’t quite ready to sleep and spend a good amount of time bugging my cabana mates and then considering life as they slept. Friday afternoon something amazing occurred, the sun came out just in time to set and after a frustrating afternoon of surfing lessons in low tide, it was an fantastic sight to see everyone marvelling at the mythical sun. The weekend brought sunny weather and we used the opportunity and occupied the beach. There was a massive police coup and the airports closed, but nothing really changed in Montanita and we just went by sitting on the beach and going out drinking as per usual. This town is good and bad. Good because its fucking pumping, food is dirt cheap and the fruit and veg and coffee is to die for and so fresh. Vendors walk around everywhere trying to sell you their jewellery, hammocks, sunnies, hats, special brownies, hennas etc and can get really annoying as they go into cafes and restaurants when youre trying to enjoy your meal. The candy vendors are the worst as to get your attention they’ll rattle a packet of tictacs right in your ear. I swear they keep on coming around more than once in a sesh… like I didn’t want any before and suddenly want to buy a straw hat? On Sunday, a mate from the cabanas returned from a morning out with some brownies she bought on the beach. These were actually “Special Brownies” which in any other continent may mean they had weed in them, and after eating half all I could think was that they were pretty fucking good tasting brownies (which was a professional opinion as I tried my fair share of brownies at Summer Camp). It was maybe an hour and a half later before I thought, “Fuck, theres something in these.” Something indeed, and after laughing at absolutely nothing all the way in and out of town to buy a burger with Emily, then sitting at the table, hardly able to eat because I was still laughing, I put myself to bed on the biggest trip of my life. It didn’t help that I was on the top bunk and was incredibly weary that gravity was pulling me off the bed to my certain death. Monday was my first day of Spanish and being quite braindead didn’t help, but somehow I survived the day and fumbled my way though the week. As a safety precaution I didn’t go out until ladies night. I was in my second week of surfing lessons, and was pretty good for a beginner by then. I was surfing with a couple of New Zealanders, a solo New Zealander and Jimito from my class in school. For some reason (and perhaps it was because this was indeed a small town and the locals either worked all the time or didn’t work ever), I saw wang man around everywhere and every time it made my more and more creeped out. So ladies night 2.0 saw me being torn around by the locals that thought they had a chance but just wanting to dance with my friends. Is it that hard? I always meet new people out and cant remember who I talked to but I always enjoy a good wag. Friday night was an absolute fiesta at the cabanas as a group of boys had returned with a monster catch of Oahu on a fishing trip. Lo and behold the entire cabanas were fed that night off one fish. After being out in town, yacking and drinking I was ready to go home with some girls, but after finishing my conversation I had already lost them. Hating back tracking as the stares from the locals are painful I made the risky decision to leg-it to the cabanas solo. As Murphy’s law would describe, the one time you wall alone at night is the one night the person you dread running into the most will come out from a dark corner and frantically start taking to you. I still didn’t understand wang-man as he came around a building as I was passing on the bidge between town and the cabanas and my heart sank. All he could say in English was “chill”, but chill I could not. I got ahead of him and the cabanas were about 50 metres ahead in sight, when he grabbed me from behind. The typical girl response I squealed and was thankful enough he let me go and I legged it back the cabanas incredibly paranoid that I had 2 more weeks of this to look forward to. For some reason this guy just doesn’t know what No Mas and No Gracias meant. So this exciting night was backed up by a fiesta Saturday night put on by the school and for 5 dollars we gorged and chilled out. The NZ couple was in attendance and pressured the fact that it was their last night in town and that it was necessary that I came out for a drink. I said yes with not much intentions to, but eventually found myself out in cocktail alley for one drink… maybe… a night cap…. I suppose, but after gas bagging and meeting a few more couples they had met on their travels, I was asked if I wanted some cocaine. In Montanita, this so called coctail alley is also the way to buy good coke for cheap, so in asking if the cocktail man “sold anything else”, many will say a baby of cocaine will set you back 15 bucks… muy barato. So my quiet lame night eventuated in me back at their cabana on the beach doing very much the same thing again, but with much less chance of dying. I spent the rest of the night quite awake and talkative and forced myself to bed around 5. Amazing people. The sun came out on Sunday, but we spent the day in Salinas celebrating a girls birthday. The bus was fun, but we didn’t really know what was happening, but we did end up in Salinas after 2 busses. I may have had the best Arroz con Camarones, but there is still much of my trip to go, but was definitely a good reason to gorge myself. With the main aim to go shopping we found a mall in Libertad which was an amazing disappointment as all the clothes were expensive, shit or both. I found myself a new bathing suit more out of necessity than desire, as my solo pair wasn’t lasting the daily surfing sessions and with the Montanita weather, never really dried. Week 2 of Spanish came around and I wished I had studied more in week 1. I fumbed through, barely, and my professora was not incredibly impressed with my efforts. I was not aware Spanish was so hard and was disheartened when they started talking grammar like adjectives, nouns, reflexive verbs, imermanentes and so on… stuff I never really paid attention to in Australia well, because, I could speak English fine. Surfing was good and I had downgraded to a smaller board and felt like I was surfing for the first time again. I had a surfing buddy for 3 days so relaxed knowing someone may know if I went missing in the surf. By the end of the week I was riding waves with the smaller board and learning to turn and all that cool stuff that did not involve being in water beyond eye-level deep. I had my fair share of “my board almost ended my life” and “the wave almost ended my life” moments, but im still here. Watching the skilled locals both amazed me and really rubbed in the dirt how pathetic my efforts still were, but I was happy I had started something. With one week remaining of Spanish, I was wondering how I would survive in this town. Although a happening place with the beach as the mecca, and some amazing people back at the cabanas, I was having troubles with a few pesky locals and was pretty paranoid now that it would be no time before something bad may actually happen to me. I had become so scared that by my last ladies night I could hardly stand saying hello to a local. A couple who started Spanish with me, Imke and Jullio told me on Wednesday they were transferring their Spanish classes over to Manta and that didn’t sound like a bad idea at all and by Friday I was set up to take my last week in Manta, and living in the apartments a mere 15 steps away from the school, an easy way out, and an opportunity to see more of Ecuador. On Saturday after talking with the partner of one of the professors at the school, myself and 3 others (a Canadian, an Alaskan and an Englishman) opted to go on a fishing trip. We only went to the next town over and waited for the tide to help get the boat in the water. Easily it seems one forgets of the simple pleasures boat ramps, marinas and on-board toilets provide. Riding the waves out was quite a thrill and I must admit I was a little scared of bouncing out against the hard waves coming in. We cruised north and spent the day trawling 2 rods at a time around a rock-island. It was quite frustrating that nothing had happened for an hour and a half, but as I sat with my rod, thinking of my dad and our fishing trips back home as a kid, a monster took my line. It put up quite a fight and I struggled with the right-handed reel, but with a team effort, there was one monster pescado in the boat, and definite dinner for the cabanas. I was stoked. It was great the fish hooked on as that was the solo catch of the day and I spent all my other time lying down a little queasy and automatically tired as I do (hopefully this is not a problem when I head to the Galapagos). Satisfied with my catch, I was leaving Montanita on good terms. With half of the cabana population leaving that weekend it was a good time to go and Imke, Jullio and myself sat on the side of the road waiting for the right bus north...