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Smells like fish juice to me
Entry 41 of 88 | show all | print this entry |
This is the story of a border crossing, stunning mountain scenery, wild drives by crazy drivers and the pungent smell of fish juice soaked backpacks.
And so it was that Laura, Matt and myself started our journey out of Ecuador, across the border and into Peru. For me a lack of sleep and a mild hangover had hoped to be cured by some food, namely the breakfast pack supplied in Vilca. But alas, the cheese smelt like my hiking boots and tasted accordingly so back to my Oreos it was. The bus ride to the border was as rough as they come as we ploughed over unpaved mountain roads, through vast amounts of water as the road stretched high up into the cloudforest that is southern Ecuador.
This route to the border is definately the road less travelled as we failed to see another traveller and given some of the terrain we crossed asnd transport we took it came as no surprise. Our first stop in the journey was the Ecuadorian border town of Zumba, a less-welcoming town you could not hope to find. Having a three hour layover until we hit the border we headed forst for the park. Now by park I mean a concrete enclosure minus any hint of natural growth, many staring locals at us freaks, an army parading up top and the air pervaded by the pungent smell of fishjuice. And no, this was not the local odour de jour, but coming from suprisingly close quarters...Matt and Laura´s backpacks.
As it turned out, their packs had come into contact with a moist (for you Janine and Bec) substance resembling fish juice...packs wet with the stench, in Laura´s case the jeans crotch got hit and in Matt´s case his whole pile of dirty clothes were as the saying goes "soaking in it!" A more gag inducing smell you would not want to encounter. To call it the beast would not be an understatement. These bags and clothes were going to have to be exorcised in Chachapoyas or duly burnt at the stake. And as for me, well as luck would have it my pack went in last, on top of a box and smelling like roses....well given the state of my clothes not really roses but maybe the smell of the great unwashed.
After holding out the stares we decided to do a lap of town and two minutes later settled into a restaurant for lunch...no idea but my guess was soup, chicken and rice all while the television cranked out those 80´s video favourites, with the Four Non-Blondes (you know that song.."I said hey, whats going on") on an oddly high rotation. It was now time to hit our next mode of transport for the run to the border. If you are thinking bus you are thinking wrong, try what resembled a wooden safari truck, roof with open sides, religious motifs on the back and padding the thickness of a postage stamp. The scenery as we rumble our way up through the cloud forest and down towards the river and the border with Peru was worth the bruised ass, remembering the just healed saddle sores from a few weeks back.
The ease with which we crossed the border, apart from Matt´s continuing struggle with Customs, was brilliant, almost having to wake the guys up to get them to process our passports. So stamped out of Peru and into Ecuador we kicked away the stray dogs, changed some coin for soles (Peruvian dinero) and jumped into the back of the station wagon cum cab for our journey to San Ignacio. Well squeezed in should be the term as there was the driver, a family of three in the front passenger seat cum gearstick region, three fully grown gringos in the back (to become four) and a couple of old-timers in the boot. Not bad work for a five seater!
And as night approached and we had been on the road now for nearly 12 hours we embarked on the craziest part of the journey, what usually happens when the driver is in a mad hurry to be somewhere else. As Laura and me agreed, it was like we had stepped into our very own video game as we madly swerved to avoid dogs, oncoming traffic, potholes the size of small countries, rocks and water traps, the odd person or three, and usually accelerating when the words "curvas peligrosas" (dangerous bends with flashbacks to Guatemala) same into view, all the while doing the best to ensure we got our moneys worth.
And finally this crazy and long day was coming to an end as we pulled up outside our digs in San Ignacio, greeted by the smell of fish juice as we removed our packs and the buzzing sound of engines as pimp my ride tuk-tuks complete with fur, flouro lights, curtains and reggaton music pounded the streets of San Ignacio. The day ended with a game of dominos, Matt and Laura coming out on top so as not to break the previous trend of those who learn, win. All the while the bemused locals looked on at these three gringos with a table full of tiles, curiosity getting the better of a few of them as the sound of "cinco puntos para mi" reverberated from our table. And then with the smell of fish juice fresh in the nostrils, combined with fabreeze, it was goodnight nurse!
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