AMAZON AND THE GALAPAGOS DAY 7 - GOODBYE JUNGLE

  

4:30am wake up call. This one not dictated by the jungle but by Latam Air, who insists on taking off from Coco airport at 10.  And that’s 3 hours from here on the boat plus some more time in the shuttle.  Our bags are whisked away at 5 by some magic, so the only thing that’s left is for us to be on the dock at 5:30. 

 

To our amusement, the same staff from dinner last night is not only all here, but has already prepared the entire buffet, brewed Ecuadorian cafe con leche (bless them) and even have an omelet chef at the ready.  There is no substitute for great service. 

 

Omar meets us at the dock. He’s heading home for a week of R&R after having worked for 4 straight weeks at this resort and others (he freelances).  We say goodbye to Guillermo and thank him for his time with us.  We board the canoe and start our last trip across the mirror-like lake.  As we get to the stream a pair of macaws do a Superbowl quality adios flyover in formation. A few minutes later, the big blue morpho, Mandy’s Fairy Butterfly, flaps by with a final blessing for us. Namaste.  

The Napo River is different today. Yesterday’s rain was followed by cooler temperatures, the brisk air welcome against our skin as the boat comes up on plane. We’re going upstream, the fast current adding 30 minutes to the trip despite the twin 100 horsepower Yamaha outboards.  The river is different this morning. Local fishing boats troll along the banks.  The low tide makes the sand bars look like big islands. Women from native villages are on their knees doing laundry in the river with banging rocks. In the distance, we see the active Cayambe volcano blowing steam into the air, a constant reminder to the nation that everything can change in a minute. 

There are no clouds as the sun rises and the pallet changes from shades of gray to vivid blues and greens. I’m always curious about the purpose-built boats of any area, and the story that they tell, and this is a complicated story indeed.  The native people try to maintain their heritage, but the draw of technology, even 50-year-old technology, is too strong to deny. The barges with oilfield equipment and the people movers with the roughnecks tell of liquid gold, its riches grudgingly required by the people to provide for food, shelter, education and Nikes.  

We get back into Coco and I can see it a bit differently than when we were first here. I can see the rotting carcasses of formerly nice waterfront hotel properties, the shuttered posh discotecas, the dilapidated business district. It’s all the hallmarks of an oil boom town,  inflated by the fast influx of cash then tossed aside when the bubble burst. It’s a study in economics repeated around the globe throughout history.  

Omar hosts us all the way to the airport security gate where it’s one last hug goodbye.  On the boat, he told Mandy of his plan to travel across South America from here to the Atlantic Ocean as a passenger on a cargo boat, his quarters a rope hammock in a common space. God speed, mighty adventurer!  They’ll make a movie about you one day.  

When we board the plane, Mandy reaches for her takeoff gum, now slimy and damp (she says ABC, if you remember that one from grade school 😂). Thank goodness we took the resort’s advice and stored the rest of our chocolate and snacks in their refrigerated boxes.  The half hour flight is easy, dissent starting as soon as ascent is finished.  

 

An enthusiastic host is waiting for us at the airport with a board with our name on it (I always love that!). He sweeps us and another couple on a similar journey onto the shuttle for the quick ride to the EB Hotel. There’s a truck show and conference going on, complete with a display from every heavy equipment manufacturer right here in the parking lot. Each display is complete with a booth bimbo – well-endowed, scantily clad models designed to attract potential customers to your trade show area – a practice that fell out of fashion in the USA 25 years ago (ahhh, the good old days). But, hey, I hear the new Mercedes cab over semis are a real game changer!  Everyone at the trade show is dressed to the nines, and here come Mandy and I in our dirty hiking pants and muddy boots. Nonetheless, we are greeted as returning royalty at the front desk and checked into our room even though it’s only 10:30am. 

 

We settle, change and head into Quito for lunch. We’re in search of the elusive football sized empanada, the stuff of legends and 4.8 star reviews in these parts. We Uber to Calle de la Ronda, where we caught wind of this unicorn when we were in town last week.  Our target restaurant is closed, so we wander up the street. We peek in a few places and pass, then wander through a doorway into a charming courtyard one flight above the street.  There we’re ushered into an equally charming establishment called Restaurante Los Geranios. Mandy mentions that she’s a bit dizzy before I can say the same to her, and we realize we’re back at 9000’ elevation and have been up since 4:30.  

We order too much food because the menu looked so good and we wanted to try a bunch of things. We also order a bottle of the local house white wine. I’m not sure that’s the recommended treatment for altitude adjustment, but I’m willing to give it a try.  As we wait for our first course, we notice a table of three Americans with a local guide at the next table. Funny seeing it from the other perspective when we were the hosted ones just a week ago. First course, two types of normal sized empanadas, cheese in plantain and chicken in corn, is delivered and surpass expectations, hot and exceptionally well-seasoned.  

Another couple is seated with their local guide. Mandy wants that gig. Maybe she can take foreign couples to DiNic’s for roast pork Dalessandro’s for cheesesteaks, Termini’s for canolis, then a run up the Art Museum steps.  For just $1000 more, it’s DiBrunos for cheese tasting, Vetri Cucina for dinner, then a run up the Art Museum steps. As we develop this new business plan, our second course is served :Quito’s signature shrimp ceviche, our 4th time in a week and they’re right. It’s a thing. 

 

The plantain ball soup is another local fave, and we can’t help but wonder if this is a legacy of the country’s thriving Jewish population that migrated from Europe in the 1920s through 1950s.  We barely have room for the local trout when it’s served as our final course. 

 

We’re exhausted, buzzy and maybe still figuring out the altitude so we head back to the EB.  It’s another early adventure tomorrow.