New country. New scams.

Our new souvenirs. Fake money.

Today we were headed to the border - our 9th for those of you keeping count. It was going to be a 9+ hour trip so we got up bright and early hoping to arrive in Peru way before it got dark. The great thing about getting up early at a hostel that was also a bar was there was plenty of hot water in the showers. The bad thing? The staff was still sleeping so there was no breakfast until 9am. So we waited an hour until the kitchen opened and hoped that there was a later bus that got us where we needed to go.

We caught a taxi to the bus station. As we pulled in I noticed banners announcing a new direct service to Mancora, Peru. The bus company was having some sort of launch party with balloons and music and food. According to the sign, we’d just missed the 9am bus but the next one was at 10:45. A little late but at least it would be direct. Unfortunately, because of today’s festivities there was no 10:45 bus and the next one wasn’t until 3pm. So we set off to find another bus to take us to the border town where we could catch another bus from the Peruvian sides. That one was leaving in 15 minutes. Perfect – okay we wouldn’t have the luxury of getting all the way there but we’d get there much earlier.

We drove through the mountains from pine forests, to desert, and finally to the coast. The bus got to the border town and let us off just outside at the passport station about 4km outside of town. Unfortunately, the ayudante told us the bus couldn’t wait for us but he told us that when we were done we could catch transportation to the actual border here. Immediately, a guy pounced on us. He offered us a taxi ride to the border for $1.50. Sounded like a deal and much better than carrying our heavy bags in the sun. He walked with us across the highway to the immigration office where we were stamped out of Ecuador. And when we stepped out, our new friend was waiting with a taxi. A few minutes later we were let off in the middle of the town which appeared to be some sort of crazy black market. It was pure chaos and we were glad we had someone to help us navigate the chaotic stalls to the bridge to Peru which was hidden in the midst of it all.

But first we had to change our American dollars into Peruvian money. We stopped at one of the many money changers and he offered almost the actual exchange rate so we said goodbye to dollars and hello to soles. We thanked our friend and gave him a S10 tip for then walked across the bridge. We were unofficially in Peru – unofficially because just like on the Peruvian side the actual immigration office was a few kilometers outside of town and in between was another black market of all sorts of goods even crazier than the Ecuadorian side. Soon we were pounced on by another guy offering us a collectivo ride to Tumbes for S30 (that’s Soles not dollars), including a stop at the immigration office. Hmm. We stopped to consider it. On one hand it was more than we really wanted to pay. On the other, it was a whole lot easier than catching a moto taxi to the immigration office and then to the highway where we’d have to catch a collectivo to Tumbes to catch another collectivo to to our transfer to Mancora. So I asked 3 times about the price and made sure it was the price for both and then decided to go for it.

The man then directed us to his friend’s car. This wasn’t a collectivo but a man trying to make a few bucks on the side. No harm in that I guess. The three of us got in with the driver and were immediately whisked away to the Peruvian immigration post a small hut 2km out of town on the highway. That was over 6km between check points – no wonder there was a thriving black market around here. We hopped out of the car and were quickly stamped in. Now it was time to get back in the car. About 200 metres from the border

The man directed us to his friend’s car. Aha this was just a man trying to make a few bucks on the side. And we got in – first stop the Peruvian immigration about 2km. Peru and Ecuador have a very loose border apparently. We got stamped in without any trouble and then got back in the car. About 200 metres from the border post, the driver turned to us and told us that going to Tumbes was too far and he was going to drive us to the collectivo stop on the highway. Oh great, another scam. I told him (actually I may have yelled at him, being sick of getting scammed every time we got into a car). He told us no and emphasized that he was only going to the collectivo post. I told him to stop the car and jumped out intent on getting away from the scammer jammers. Adrian however wasn’t paying attention and stayed in the car thwarted my great escape plan. The original negotiator however took the chance to make his own escape. With Adrian and our bags still in the car, I was forced to get back in and continue arguing with the driver. Now he agreed to drive us to Tumbes but the price changed. It was no longer 30 for both but 30 for each. And he now said 30 dollars not 30 soles because the trip was 37km away. I told him no and called him a thief and a liar. I told him no, repeated the original price we had negotiated on and told him to stop asking for dollars because we had none. He eventually backed down from $60 to S60 to take us all the way to Tumbes. I was furious with being double crossed yet again. And spent the rest of the ride swearing at him in English and cursing Peru the entire way.

We arrived in Tumbes 20 minutes later (definitely not 37 km). Now that the car was stopped I told him we’d only pay him S50. He eagerly accepted that and gave us our bags – his easy agreement just highlighted the scam. There was no misunderstanding between the two men or between us – it was just the old bait and switch. Adrian handed him a bunch of small bills and then it was off to find our transportation to Mancora. We bypassed the bus stations and headed to the actual collectivos. A taxi driver told us it was going to be S27 and tried to convince us to go with him but I just ignored him. And when we got to the collectivo, indeed the price was only S6 – much better. We got on and enjoyed the ride down the coast.

Our first impressions of Mancora were not great. The town was really just a giant strip of shops and cafes along the Panamerican. – and all of them ugly. The driver let us off in front of the ugliest one – the Sol y Mar hotel that we had chosen to stay at. He then demanded an extra S2 for taking us down the strip. Grr. Sure it was only 60 cents but already this constant scamming was wearing thin. The hotel didn’t get better when we stepped in. It was cheap and cheerless although it was right on the beach. But after the taxi scam we needed to recoup some of our money. I checked out two rooms then chose the sunnier one which was S40/night and payment was demanded upfront. Adrian pulled out a S100 note to pay. The clerk shook his head and pointing to the note said “Es falso”. Adrian pulled out another S100 note. “Es falso tambien.” Then a S50 and another S50 and another S50. Yup that was right. With the exception of the 10s and 20s (most of which were now in the hands of the scammer jammer taxi driver), the money we’d gotten at the border was fake. So not only had the taxi driver ripped us off and the collectivo driver as well but the money changer had too probably in cahoots with our “friend” on the Ecuadorian side. In total, we lost almost $150 in the exchange (photo above). But it explained why the driver wanted American cash. I almost screamed in frustration. The clerk pulled out some real notes so we could feel and see the difference – I can’t say I noticed much – but he could tell a mile away. An old lady standing nearby asked what was wrong and the clerk told her that we had S300 in fake money she tutted and shook her head but was at least sympathetic. However the clerk wouldn’t even give us the room key until he had some money. Luckily there was a bank machine across the street, so Adrian got some real cash out and paid for the room. We were now thoroughly bummed and hating Peru.

Walking down the strip didn’t help much either. Mancora’s only redeeming feature was the beach. Everything else was dirty and dusty and aimed at the tourist pocket book. And let me stress once again that it was an ugly town. After checking out all the menus we ended up at an Italian restaurant run by a German-speaking Swiss guy for the S10 pasta and drink special and S12 for 3 large beers. The food was good even if the town and the country so far was shit. Oh yeah and it was our wedding anniversary.

Churched out and about in Cuenca

The jewel of Ecuador. A beautiful colonial city. That’s how Cuenca was described. Unfortunately we had to wait to check it out. Over breakfast one of the staff members told us that the cheaper room was available but it wasn’t ready to move in. So we waited and waited and finally moved into the new room just before noon. The room was smaller and we were now sharing a bathroom but it was half the price and for that we liked it twice as much as the other. Now it was time to find out what made Cuenca so special.

Today was market day so we headed to the market but it didn’t look like much was happening. So we pulled out the guidebook to check out these beautiful sights. What the guidebooks kinda forgot to point out was that the beautiful colonial city of Cuenca was really a beautiful colonial city of churches. Now we appreciate a good church but after 5 months of beautiful colonial churches we were churched out. And there were far too many to remember their names or which was which.

We found reprieve in the museo de arte moderno. Not only was it free but it was quite good. One of the most interesting was a photographic display by 12 latino artists – they were all brought to Madrid or Barcelona (I’ve forgotten) to shoot their view of the city and the 12 different styles and takes on the same city were interesting when viewed side by side. But the coolest piece looked like a black and white photo but was actually a piece of shadow art. Nothing cures the old church blues than some nice modern art.

Our next stop was the pharmacy – another colonial church polar opposite. Adrian had wrenched his shoulder trying to carry his backpack with the shoulder strap rather than the back straps and was now paying the price. So we were on a search for some ibuprofen. An English-speaking doctor standing in line stepped in to help us translate our order. His translation sounded a whole lot like ibuprofen with a Spanish accent, i.e. he added an o at the end. But we were thankful for the help. And we left, bypassed more churches and dropped off the disposable Galapagos camera to be developed.

With all that modern stuff out of the way, it was time to go back in time again. Way back in time to see some Incan ruins. We walked along the river past the old mansions and old bridges consulting our map every so often to make sure we were headed in the right direction. At one stop, a friendly man saw us and crossed a busy street to see if we were lost. Nope, well not yet anyway. And of course about 5 minutes after we declined his offer we reached a dead end road. We were at the rear of the museum complex but couldn’t get any further thanks to a tall chain link fence. We retraced our steps and tried a different turn and ended up at the entrance but were turned back by the guard to go buy a ticket at the museum. However, there was no one at the ticket booth and another guard told us we could go into the ruins and then come back and buy our ticket. So back to the first guard who grudgingly let us in and then seemed to follow us as we walked through the ruins.

Pumapungo were the ruins of an old Incan town and the site was big but thankfully the signs were in English. There were the old religious buildings, the farm terraces and an old medicinal garden and even an aviary full of very loud birds. It was a lot of walking and by the time we returned to the museum neither Adrian nor I were really in the mood but since it was included in the tickets we were now able to buy so we gave it a looksee. It was a repeat of what we’d seen at other museums and we quickly walked through.

It was time to walk back but first, ice cream and picking up the Galapagos photos. I felt like we hobbled for the last 20 minutes. We’d completed a circle and a half of the city and too many kms to count which our feet were eager to remind us at every step. It would have been nice to relax at the hostel but the bar there was now in full swing. The music was pumping and it was full of people celebrating the end of the week. Our new much cheaper room was unfortunately a lot closer to the music (probably the reason for the cheap price). We dug out the earplugs (don’t leave home without them) in anticipation of a tough sleep and then decided to head two doors down to the other hostel for dinner. It was much nicer and more chill and they had a three hour happy hour with tasty drinks. So we enjoyed a tasty dinner and many caipiriñas our new favourite drink there. Then it was back to our hostel. The earphones worked well enough that we were able to get to sleep – it could have been the caipiriñas too. Cuenca may have been the town of churches but our hostel was definitely not as quiet as a church mouse.

Burning up in Guayaquil.

a big city with big city amenities - thank goodness.

Our plan in Guayaquil was to just chill out after the go go go of the Galapagos – for me that meant catching up on some blogging and uploading the 275 photos from the last week. For Adrian that meant enjoying the sunshine and pool at the hostel and checking out the mall nearby. Well in the midst of doing all that Adrian and I suddenly found ourselves on a mission or two.

Halfway through the photo upload I noticed that my computer was no longer charging. I figured the plug had just come out of the wall but when I turned around to plug it back in I was greeted with smoke and the smell of burning wires. The cord had frayed and was now thisclose to going up in flames. I quickly yanked it out of the wall – I don’t think our insurance would cover hostel arson. Now how to make my computer usable. With an almost dead battery, in about 20 minutes my computer would be a large paperweight. It was Adrian to the rescue. On his mall visit, he’d found not one but two Mac shops. $100 later we had a new cord and an up and running computer. But so much for trying to recoup some of that Galapagos money. The day didn’t pick up either. While checking in on our bank and credit cards, I noticed that our last remaining credit card – the one we’d used to book the Galapagos tour – suddenly had a bunch of mystery charges on it. Adrian called Visa to find out what was going on. Well they weren’t our charges so the Visa was cancelled and reissued. So now we had no credit cards and no travelers’ cheques and just one bank card. Rather than a relaxing day it was all quite stressful.

We tried to shake off the bad news and hung out at the hostel with the rest of the guests. Some of who were familiar faces. Simon had been there before we left for the Galapagos and had spent the last week recuperating from a bad sunburn he’d gotten on the top of his feet while in Mancora, Peru. When we left he’d barely been able to walk and the sunburn was a giant nasty looking blister. Luckily, while we were away a couple of traveling doctors had passed through the hostel and helped him get some antibiotics. At least now he was able to walk and like us he was heading out tomorrow to continue his journey. And there were new faces too including the nicest most polite guy from Alabama. He’d spent the last 5 years in the navy and seen the world although he said most of the world was viewed from the ship watching the officers head to shore for the good times. He was off tomorrow too although he wasn’t sure where.

The next morning all our bags were packed and lined up in the front hall ready for destinations known and unknown. Simon to Quito. Adrian and I to Cuenca. And Alabama to, well, he still wasn’t quite sure. While he sat staring at his map of Ecuador for inspiration, Adrian and I split a cab to the bus station with Simon. And in a change of events, the cabbie actually charged us less than he was supposed to (according to the hostel). Wow that was a first – but not enough to make up for every other cab driver. Once inside the station we said goodbye to Simon as he headed North and we headed South. For us it was perfect timing as there was a bus leaving for Cuenca in just 15 minutes.

Four and a half hours later in Cuenca. We hadn’t heard back from any of the hostels we’d emailed (what is it with South American hostels and email?) but headed to the first on our list anyway. They only had an expensive room available and when I told them I had sent an email they acknowledged that they’d received it but in a condescending way told me they couldn’t guarantee any room when booked online. What? I was annoyed. So they got our booking request but didn’t bother to respond. And they accept bookings online but don’t guarantee them. Wow, that makes no sense. But I guess we were supposed to feel happy that they even had a room for us. Although the room was comfy the attitude was a put off and despite the hostel also being home to a popular local restaurant we went out to find food elsewhere. In less than 24 hours we’d gone from almost burning down one hostel to the cold shoulder at another.