Happy Birthday Jeff
Trip Start
Jun 12, 2005
1
37
40
Trip End
Ongoing
Bahía de Caráquez,
Ecuador
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The rest of the day I was either finishing Ernersto Guevara's "The Motorcycle Diaries", watching the 30 aspiring surfers do their thing against the back drop of huge pacific cliffs, playing with Vaquita or cooling off in the ocean. There was a quick singing competition of five "beach-kids" who take a couple shells and sing their songs with their best tone while using the beat of the clattering of these shells for "gringo" beach goers in hopes of a nickel, or a quarter if they are really good. As usual I make it hard on these kids and try to talk with them. Most of the time they move on and play their odds like a good salesman for the less-talkative, more-annoyed tourists who will throw dinero at them, but for those who allow me to practice my Spanish or entertain me with their insights, I like to reward them with a little extra. So this time since there were so many kids attacking me for change, I told them that a quarter would go to the singer who I thought had the best voice. Only three ended up singing, I gave my quarter to the first singer and immediately he passed it on to the kid who I thought needs a few voice lessons from my brother's $50 voice teacher in Alaska; perhaps it was the kids birthday like mine and the stars were aligned for him on this day.
While doing such activities, I ran into a few friends from Bahía and they found the site of me in this surfers town a little awkward as I admittedly don't take as much time away from Bahía, even for a short 30 minute excursion to this half-paradise as much as I am beginning to think I should. I told them it was my cumpleaños before I could bite my tongue; off we went to happy hour for a couple hours of conversation at Ecuador's famous Bamboo Bar with an older couple from Italy, a brother and sister from France, a lady from Germany, and my amigos Marcello and Ricardo from Bahía about everything from the unique species of the head-piercing mosquitoes, to astrologic signs, and the history/evolution of modern language from what started from Rome's Latin... I still have much to learn but they encouraged me that English to Spanish is the hardest and that French, Italian, or Portuguese can be learned in weeks after a solid foundation of Spanish is earned. That is where I want to be.
During this time the older Italian man quipped "so you have the other birthday?" I immediately asked him, "Does someone else at this table have a birthday" and he replied with a typical Italian grin and accent, "No, but everyday there are other's".
At 7:00 p.m. after the uneventful sunset but beautiful cool breeze that seem to swap out, one for the other during the two seasons in the Mumbai Province, I then hitched a ride with my friend Ricardito, or Little Richard, and his niece. It was a quiet ride without the busted speakers blaring reggaeton or Shakira, or the words "Rompe", "Papi", etc. over and over again. Ricardo had an interesting mix of Latin folk music maybe. I never heard anything like it in Spanish but it reminded a bit of Ben Harper's slow lyrics and calm beat; it immediately allowed for a quiet return to San Vicente and a relaxing contemplative boat ride across the bay to the lighted skyline of Bahía de Caráquez. It gave me time to really think about this last year; from the beautifully difficult times in the Amazon to the more organized life I have now.
That contemplative spirit ended quickly as got off the boat in Bahía. María Elisa had a surprise party for me. I was going to have something this Friday but apparently she pulled a quick one on me and a small group of people were at my decorated apartment to celebrate my night with chicken, rice, pasta, and cake; all of which is customary with the Ecuadorian soft drink, Inca Cola, (it has about 6 times as much sugar as Pepsi and Coke combined) to wash it down. We enjoyed a little salsa dancing to mix things up a bit. It was all very pleasant until she customarily attempted to push my face into the half eaten cake. She succeeded. However I eventually succeeded in spreading the white and orange icing off my face to where I felt it really belonged, on hers and her black Manabían hair.
And so this morning ran up on me a little quickly after the late night. I had an "early" wake up call for a meeting at 9:30 to work on a website. As I was leaving the library at eleven o'clock, fumbling around my indigenous-handmade, sturdy and dependable, my favorite and very manly handbag (that is necessary to safely handle my agenda, phone, and things everywhere I go), I felt the abundant of sand solidifying at the bottom. I immediately smiled with the memory of an unforgettable birthday that ended just a few hours earlier. As I was walking through the abundant of elated thoughts of yesterday, I very quickly, almost naturally turned over my bag to try to empty the foreign contents out of my bag with one hand holding my precious items inside before I decided that I would deal with the issue later. I continued on my way.
I went to the post office a block from the library on the same side of the street. I enthusiastically saluted the always-friendly desk attendant and picked up my bi-weekly packet of Newsweek's and other mailings from the headquarters. On my way out, a boy runs up to me, "Senor, Senor, esto es suya?" It was my billfold with 18 dollars in it, more importantly for me, containing with a few bankcards that would be unusable for the kid but would have made for a huge annoyance to get replaced for me. I was dumbfounded. It dawned on me in all of the great memories of philanthropic actions and conversations by beautiful people from many corners of this world in which I was able to enjoy on my 24th birthday, perhaps the greatest gift continued onto the 22nd day of August when a breathless 15 year-old named Jorge, who could have taken that huge wad of cash, just big change to me (I am a volunteer); but he returned it with vigor and more character then perhaps I would have done as a spoiled 15-year old in Alaska... if you could have seen his shoes.
I stood in my spot for a couple minutes seemingly, caught back up to him and took him to eat some encobollado (onion-fish soup wouldn't do justice) and a coke. Jorge said he found it lying on the sidewalk and he could tell the ID-less billfold was mine by some form of Ecuadorian-Gringo inference... or angelic grace.
Happy Birthday Jeff
