La Ruta del Sol – “The Route of the Sun”
Montanita, Puerto Lopez & Canoa
For many, Montanita is heaven. A place where they can lose themselves and their inhibitions. Where days are spent catching waves and soaking in rays, and nights slinging back mojitos and dancing to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. For others, however, Montanita is nothing more then a loud, insomnia inducing, drunken rage. With bars lining the streets, 2 for 1 ad’s littering the ground, and hammocks overflowing with the previous nights hungover participants, I wondered, had I unknowingly stumbled across MTV’s Spring Break 08’? |
Wanting nothing more then to relax on her sandy stretch, I found the beer carts, pestering jewelry sales women, and overly hormonal boys, boring their seedy eyes into my backside, more of a beach hindrance then a bonus. And night, only got worse. Between the endless racket rising from the 24 hour discotec’s, the drunken tourists singing in the streets, and that person who kept losing their dinner in the hostels shared bathroom, it didn’t take long to realize Montanita was not the place for a weary traveler like myself. However, before I could escape, I had one more annoyance to overcome…my roommates. |
Not even the loudest, most inebriated traveler could have compared to these guys. Crickets…Ah!!! The little hellians appeared out of nowhere, lining every inch of the floor, and initiating what can only be described as a rare form of Chinese water torcher. Incessantly chirping, they happily watched my irritation grow to anger and finally, to outright insanity! Killing a handful in the first round of battle, I smuggly layed back down to sleep. Within seconds though…CHIRP! CHIRP! Ok, fella’s, this was war. The charade of me getting up and down lasted through the night and by mornings first light, the casualties numbered over 50. Surely they would leave me alone now…CHIRP CHIRP! Ahh!! As if mourning the loss of their fallen comrades, the chirping only grew louder, and by night two, the battle had escalated to a full frontal attack. Crickets turned Kamikaze, hurling themselves onto my bed netting, boldly inviting my angry kick and the deadly airborne flight that would surely follow. That was it. 2 sleepless nights was all I could stand. So, I set my sights north and headed to the small fishing village of Puerto Lopez.
Set in a stunning marine cove, ensconced in plush, green hills and lined by candescent sand, Puerto Lopez was nothing more then a small fishing village a few years ago, but now, boasts world class snorkeling, scuba diving, and whale watching. So what did I do first? D – none of the above. Still desperate for sandy R & R, I made a bee-line to the beach, turning it into my home for the next week. Comfortably nestled in the soft sands and mesmerized by the hundreds of tiny blue fishing boats bobbing up and down on the horizon, PL not only afforded the perfect beach, but also the perfect restaurant. In fact, my favorite restaurant of the entire trip. A Columbian Restaurant, who’s owner (Jose) practiced Spanish with me every night over dinner.
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Every meal was incredible but my favorite included a bed of fried plantains, a spicy bean and meat filling, and a spattering of cheese on top. Muy Delicioso! But this was just the first course of my nightly Spanish lesson. After each of Jose’s edible lessons, Javier (Jose’s buen amigo and owner of the bar across the road) initiated a drinkable one. Only permitted to speak Spanish to Javier and his amigo’s, if I slipped into English (even for a moment), a shot of Tequila would magically appear in front of me. Needless to say, I didn’t slip much.
Unknowingly falling into a fabulous daily routine of sun, food, and espanol, leaving Puerto Lopez was no easy task. However, press on I did, continuing north on La Ruta del Sol bound for Canoa. A tranquil fishing town where Bob Marley is on repeat, baggy linens are the informal attire, and where hammocks easily outnumber people. Fairly new to tourism, the town welcomes foreigners with open arms but is refreshingly, not reliant on them. Still going about their days the way they have for years. Pushing their small wooden boats to sea just before sunrise and returning just before sunset with the days catch proudly displayed in the bow. |
Canoa’s beach offers up perfect surf waves and thanks to it’s relatively “unknown” tourist status, still retains much of it’s isolated, natural luster. The only beachy additions come in the form of quaint seafood stands and fruit shake shacks. Offering row after row of shaded hammocks, these shacks not only serve up delectable midday snacks but also the perfect place for an afternoon siesta. Like Puerto Lopez, my days lazily melted away in the sun, while my nights were once again filled with great food and great company.
Sufficiently browned and beached up, it was time to move on. Back to the capital city of Quito for a few last souvenirs and one more Empenada Verde, before catching my flight. Hasta la Vista Sur de America. ©