Flamethrowing and the night of the bite

  Canoa, Ecuador
Tuesday, November 14, 2006

It took me about an hour of pained discussions with the bus company in Atacames we travelled from Quito with to find out that local bus companies called Cooperativas operate services along the coast and we can take three sepèrate buses to get to Canoa, its a long trip but can be done in a day. We leave Atacames at 7.30am, Canoa is a definite surf break and is further south. We stand at the bus stop with a host of locals who are admiring our hefty pieces of luggage as usual. Our bus arrives and the drivers wingman, who hops on and off and collects fares, tells us that the boards will go on the roof. We survey the roof of the bus and see only a couple of metal hooks on either side and no rack, which means our trusty straps from far away England are no use to us. The guy clambers up the side on a ladder and we pass the heavy board bags up to him, he just begins to lash them onto the roof with what is only thick string when the driver beeps his horn in frustration. After further experience we find that the local bus services are very efficient and run like clockwork, mainly because everything is done at hyperspeed! The guy on the roof tells us to get on the bus quick and as there is no space for our rucksacks below we take them on a packed bus with us. The second we have set foot on the colourfully decorated bus the driver puts his foot down, we are the only tourists on there and get a mixture of funny looks and welcoming smiles from the locals as we rocket past them trying not to give anyone a black eye with our bags!

As we set off along dusty, hole ridden roads with regular speed bumps in the built up areas we realise that the guy is still on the roof! We cant see him but can see people on the roadside watching his James Bond style roof antics with amusement. The only image I can conjure is of him and our boards bouncing down the road behind us and as we are near the back we wouldnt see this amusing but painful sight either. Me and jb share nervous looks and cross our fingers until we reach the next stop and I crawl half way out the window to check the roof. The boards are there, intact and look very secure, Spiderman somehow managed to clamber down whilst the bus was moving and was already at the front of the bus to greet the new passengers getting on, I am amazed but happy!

The first bus takes us through a number of places, some we stop at and people get off to get hot food cooked fresh on the street. The bus itself is decorated with stickers, flags of the world, and pictures of Jesus in adult and baby form, the Catholic religion is very strong here and I guess the divine one is there to protect the bus and its fragile contents. You cant fail to notice that Ecuador is in the middle of an election campaign, the majority of walls, fences and posts are plastered with posters or painted with campaign material. The information is basic, the name of the candidate, the number to vote for and a mug shot. Mug shot being pretty accurate for most of them, there are dozens and dozens of different candidates, I presume some are local and not national. The local ones show some pictures that could quite easily be from the likely suspects folder me and jb flicked through at the Police Station in Costa Rica after my bag was stolen. The national ones are much more professional, nice colour pictures with a winning smile in the style of Blair and every one of the women running are beautiful, Mo Mowlam and Anne Widdecombe wouldnt stand a chance! Unless of course they put policies up in place of a photo, there is rarely even a party name! It makes me wonder how much the population outside of the cities know about what the various candidates stand for, or whether the majority of Ecuadors people vote for who they like the look of, much like some in the UK.

We arrive at our first change in a place called Chamanga and true to form the hustle to get on the next bus and go as soon as is humanly possible is in full swing. We only have time to be befriended by a young lad. He is about 8 and stood in front of me looking up and pinching his arm, my first thought is that he wants money so I start to dig for some change. Before I can hand it to him, he points at my arm and I realise he is amused or amazed by the thick layer of hair on our arms. Its not the first time we have experienced this, the hairy me and the even hairer jb got a lot of attention in Atacames when wandering along the beach or streets with just shorts. At first we thought it was just the sight of two white blokes but soon realised they were laughing and pointing at the rugs on our chests. Blokes in Ecuador dont have much in the way of body hair. I decide to increase the young lads fun by proudly lifting my Everton shirt to display the English forests, his laugh changes into a nervous one and he runs home to his mum to tell her of the exotic beast he has just been scared witless by! The guy from the next bus comes over and I drop my shirt before he can take the opportunity to grap a handful of curly dark hairs and drag me onto the next bus. The Everton shirt was a gift from the lads back home and I have started wearing it for all our days on the road, the locals love football and its a good conversation starter. Jb obviously takes the piss that they will have never heard of my team, but he still hasnt worn his Liverpool shirt gift once on the first two months trip, he is obviously ashamed of something!

The next bus is a different company and has very masculine decorations and the name Flying Destroyer painted in big letters on the front and back. I figure from this that individual buses can be owned by one or a small group of people and they are free to decorate it how they like. Despite the aggresive look the bus still has baby Jesus watching over it. This time we have room to store all bags underneath and our hearts are spared another scare. The bus sets off and what I can only describe as awful music begins, it sounds like a latino version of Chris Rea and it comes close to making my ears bleed, without an Ipod I am at its mercy. The previous bus played a funky mix of Calypso and Reggaeton which I enjoyed a lot, but this was torture! We arrive at Pedernales for our last change and have rival buses fighting over our bags to take us for the final leg, one guy already has one of our boardbags on the roof so he wins out. The final bus rewards my abused ears with a Salsa Calypso mix with a Jamaican style DJ toasting over the top. I like it a lot and wonder where I can get hold of a CD. Finally we arrive at Canoa.

It is late afternoon and as we drag our bags down the street towards the beach a number of young kids shout Bambu! Bambu! at us and point down the street. We continue in that direction and come across Hotel Bambu, the first place we have found that is ideally situated right on the beach. We have a quick look around I meet the staff who are very friendly and instantly asking questions about our bulging surfbags and the boards they hide. They show us up to the only dormitory in the hotel, it is great price and as it is at the top of the building the only room with a view of the beach and more importantly the waves! We fall in love with the place instantly, dump our stuff and head out to the surf. The waves are very choppy but the simple act of paddling out through the decent size waves is an absolute pleasure, we are back where we want to be, sitting on our boards scanning the ocean for a suitable peak to ride. The stress of Miami and the disapointment in Atacames is washed away and we leave the ocean with a Cheshire cat grin on our faces! We meet a fellow surfer outback called Simon from Oz, he is staying at a place just down the coast but plans to visit Canoa that weekend, he seems like a sound geezer and we arrange to hook up for some beers when he comes over.

There is a great mix of friendly locals and travellers at Bambu most evenings and for the first time I get to enjoy a realy good social vibe at the place we are staying. I can feel my Spanish improving quickly without study and I am trying to teach jb bits here and there. Although not too much as it restricts my scope to stitch him up and share private jokes with the locals at his expense.

The first night in Bambu is eventful, we take advantage of all the facilities on offer, ping pong, restaurant, bar and pool table. I am playing pool with a guy who introduces himself as Ariel, he is from Paraguay. He has some very strange rules for playing and talks rapid fire Spanish with very descriptive gestures and sounds, it makes it easier to understand him, but I still get easily lost but allow him to continue, responding to the bits I understand. Whilst we play he is trying to explain something he calls Devil Sticks, eventually I understand he means juggling with flames of some sort. He talks about it a lot and with passion and I respond positively, hoping to see him in action. A bit later me and Jb are sat at the bar and I am talking to a young barman called Leo, he is a keen surfer and is asking where we have been and what are plans are whilst in Ecuador. He starts to laugh when he hears we have left a surfless Atacames for Canoa. I ask whats funny and he informs me that just down the coast from Atacames is a break called Mompiche, considered the best wave in Ecuador. We had heard of it, but had wrongly thought it was further South of Canoa. He describes the heaviness of the waves and the sick barrels its possible to get when its working, he then describes the shallow razor sharp reef it is highly likely I would have ended up being slammed onto if I had tried to surf it. We are disapointed to have missed at least seeing it or surfing it, but mentally pencil it in as a possibility to travel back up north if we have time.

Ariel returns from wherever he has been to help us prop up the bar and we begin another lively discussion with him, jb chipping in where he can. He is a crafstman by trade and makes jewelry, he has a very artistic and colourful look to go with the trade and we promise to take a look at his work the next day. A friend of his arrives with the aforementioned Devil Sticks and a bottle of parafin. Ariel passes them to me and look at me expectantly, he urges me to the beach to show him my skills and its then that I realise my basic Spanish has led to a misunderstanding. Ariel believed my positivity earlier was me admitting to be being pretty handy with the old fire sticks myself and much as I would like to back up that claim, i am no where near drunk enough! I hand him his kit and he leads us onto the beach just in front of Bambu, we sit on a log bench and before we know it, he is flinging the flaming sticks high into the air and catching them as they spin back toward him, splattering me and jb with parafin constantly. It looks a bit awkward and I ask him if he usually sits down, when he says this is the first time I stand up and back away a few meters and jb joins me. Ariel is very skillful, but like a true professional he just gives us a taster of what he can do before the main event that weekend.

Ariel showing the devil in Devilsticks!

Bambu bliss

Blue and red boards. Everton v Liverpool

Canoa Sunset

Me, Crazy Jorge (Champion Surfer), Simon and JB

The only downside to Bambu is the very aggresive mosquitos, it is situated by a small swamp where they breed and then come to feast at the closest spot packed full with ripe western flesh ready for the bleeding. Without knowing it (perhaps due to the beers and the 2for1 cocktails in happy hour), I take a lot of bites to my feet, ankles, arms, back, nowhere is left untouched. Mine swell up to nasty lumps which itch a lot and are painful to touch but are bearable. Jb is not so lucky, his dont swell up and the relentless fiends have more space to attack again and again. The next morning his feet are expecially bad, he must have at least a hundred bites on each foot, he is unable to resist scratching them and some of them turn into sores. I wont go any further, better to check his journal for the description - Attack of the killer mosquitos http://www.travelblog.org/South-America/Ecuador/Canoa/blog-1 05901.html