I was told that the Chinese said they would bury me by the Western Lake and build a shrine to my memory. I have some slight regret that this did not happen, as I might have become a god, which would have been very chic for an atheist.
- Bertrand Russel (1872-1970) -
The world's fastest tour of South America
Guayaquil City and river Guyayas, photo taken from the top of Cerro Santa Ana.
If Annina and I could choose our way of traveling, it might well be jetsetting rather than backpacking. Cruising is definitely our choise of the day. And of tomorrow. It's nice to have a mothership, a home - but thousands of miles in buses, trekking and hosteling is not really our scene. I think we're just both lazy and comfort seeking. There's perhaps some conflict in what I say, I may contradict myself, but that's nothing new. Firstly, we can not afford jetsetting. Secondly, my biggest interest in foreign lands is the man on the street, the working class pub, the lower class, the "real people", if I'm allowed to romanticise poverty for a moment. I'm not so excited about museums, old ruins and gold-covered monuments, statues and temples of ancient oppressors, religions and governments. I can read history from books.
Present day is more interesting than the past, hence the people are always the passion of my travels.
The power shortage in Ecuador was well visible in Guayaquil, where shop keepers had their gensets ready in good time before the daily 4-hour power cut.
I have no idea why I'm carrying on about this subject at all, as if there was some need for me to redefine my purpose for traveling or to justify myself and my travelling life. There is no such need. There's a few underlying processes in my head though, some of which have been poured on these pages over the years. Right now there's more happening underneath, cooking that isn't ready to be dished out yet. Bare with me as I'm serving you some snacks in the form of ordinary events of our comings and goings. Yes, I know it's a very boring way to do travel writing. I just don't have much in my bag at the moment. For those with specific questions regarding anything in our lives, destinations and cruising should just open up a blank email message, write down their thoughts and questions and address the mail to Lauri@Aliisa.net. In the meantime I'm desperately trying to catch up with the update.
Heavenly food for the faithful followers, those who truly believe... in Burger King. (Known as Hungry Jacks in the land of Oz)
Buenos Aires
What was going to be a quick and easy trip to a near-by Buenos Aires, costing a few hundred bucks on a cheapy no-frills airline, turned out to be the most expensive side-trip I've ever done. After cruising the internet for hours, we realised that all the lowest prices were for display only, not valid once you click the "book now" button. Like going to the markets and looking at the prices of bananas, only to find that they are all last month's prices and the actual price is twice the one displayed. I can honestly say that the lying, scamming, over-selling and bullshitting that the advertisers can get away with brings shame to the human race. As if having 90% of the world economy running on empty promises, wheeling and dealing, making money out of nothing and dressing up shit in clever marketing is not enough? We have to endure outright lies as well. But then again, I just don't "undestand" the travel industry. An airline has about 72 different prices for the same seats on the plane. The rules on which rate applies are very complex and not within the reach of an ordinary consumer.
We ended up getting the best deal from a travel agent in Guayaquil. Not a good rate, but it was an honest rate. The agent was bit more than a travel agent. Centro Viajero in downtown Guayaquil, it's owner Douglas Chan and staff Fernando were a travel experience in its own right. They were a testament to the fact that every business is only as good as the people who run it. Douglas poured his entire character into his office and delivered a kind of service that is rarely seen in the modern world. The attention and the speed at which Douglas and Fernando responded to our emails was almost weird. "Don't they have better things to do?", I thought. I'm used to getting crap service. But Douglas didn't just give us customer service, he took us in his arms like some long-lost friends!
Just like Aliisa can't always afford the marina, LAN Airlines too save money by "anchoring" off the terminal and "dinghying" the passangers in with a bus. To be absolutely fair, LAN was ultra-modern and the service was very good. Clearly a premium carrier in this continent.
"Vodka or beer?", he said as we stepped into his office. It was 11 AM, so I chose a beer. Shower at his place and a nice walk in town was in order. Later Douglas took us to the airport, I suppose the timing happened to suit his schedule. "When you come back, you can crash in my place for as long as you need", he said as we got off the vehicle. The man was not just trying to impress us or give a special service. He is a world traveller himself and genuinely loved meeting people from all around the world. Anyone who travels, was part of his family and the friendliness was genuine. (I know that because I drank enough of his beers to eat away any profit he would have made from the airline tickets we bought.)
Your Europe away from Europe
A long flight across the continent to spend a week with an old friend of mine was a bit extravagant. I seemed crazy - still does - that we would not have time to do the same by bus and spend 3 months backpacking across South America, like so many people do. But if we were to stay 3 weeks in every stop between here and Australia and still get there this year, we would have to pick and choose. We were craving for easy and comfy, straight to a hotel and hot shower, maximum miles in minimium time. That, we achieved. Together with seven days of eye fillet steaks and Malbec red wine.
Buenos Aires was more European than Europe itself. With an influence from Germany, France and Italy and a vast majority of the population being European origin, Buenos Aires was a blend of Paris, Seville and Rome with a hint of South America. "I'll buy you a beer for every black African you see in Buenos Aires", said my friend. In seven days, he lost three beers, two of them for a Swedish tourist! (Don't get me wrong here, I love and respect the black Africans more than any other race on the planet. But the lack of immigrans of any ethnic origin other than Europe in Buenos Aires was striking and made it "European" in a weird kind of way.
The cemetery of Recolletta in Buenos Aires was like the red light district for necrophiles. Occupants were mostly in their boxes. The narrow alleys and large windows were designed to display the coffins, together with pictures of the deceased.
Some of the doors were open, many rooms abandoned. I wasn't offending this dude's final rest, just gave him a breath of fresh air.
Straight from a movie set, except that it was real. My curiosity was running high, but the large amount of people around stopped me from opening the lid of this one. I did walk down the stairs of one "grave". Dark and musty, a whole family in a dozen or so coffins, all abandoned and covered in spider webs, Spooky to the max!
Another existance, not much better from the ones in the boxes. Quite a few homeless people and beggars were lining the streets of B.A. Still, the whole city was lovely and attractive with lots of little shops and cafes, without too much glamour and gloss.
The seeing of the city was not the sole purpose of our visit. In addition to seeing my old friend, I also enjoyed seeing myself in bed with a remote control. Ah, it's been a while since I've seen a hotel room and as small as ours was, it had the essential hot shower, cable TV and the remote.
Andes from the airplane window. This is about as close as I need to get to the snow-covered beauty. Get me to the ocean, quick! Get me back home to Aliisa.
Ecuador, part two
Back in La Libertad, we only had the "malecon" (beach front esplanade) in the Salinas to entertain us. This sand castle was a clever little creation. Set in concrete to hold well together, yet attracting a dollar per photo by those who thought it was really just sand.
Back in Guyayaquil we hang out one night with Douglas and his friends. As welcome as we were to stay longer, my mind was firmly in completing the painting and getting Aliisa ready for more miles. My dear wife Annina sometimes sees that as a restlesness and has grown to expect me to get grumpy if we're hanging out in one place for more than two weeks. One week is a bit too short, you see, three weeks is too long. That's how travelling works. Locals stay, travellers go. I'm always conscious - and I agree that I'm often too restless - of the schedule. There are more places to see and then more again and after that there is still more. If we have no discipline in maintaining a schedule, we will end up somewhere in Pacific during the cyclone season. I truly, honestly hope that one day we can set out again - with the whole family - and not give a rat's ass about seasons and schedules. Spend a few years in each continent. One day...
Sneeze and Squeek, the two main residents under Aliisa. Lovely and affectionate. They also now know the taste of Whiskas...
While we had been away, someone had changed the season in Ecuador. The cool nights of December had gone and been replaced with stinky-hot days and moist, sometimes drizzly nights. Every rain brought in bugs, mostly flying ants and semi-flying grass hoppers. Both of them became a menace, crawling on the deck and finding their way inside the boat. We found more paint from the local store and got on with the job. Following the traditional format, I did most of the prepping while Annina - with more patience - did all the painting. Job done!
Once we got to the anti-fouling, Annina moved in to do yet another inventory of our stock. Despite my assurance of the opportunities for shopping in the 8-million-person city of Lima, she insisted on more trips to the local supermarket. Our boat might be modest, but we eat like kings and queens.
Watching the marina over the weeks made it very clear that we would depart Ecuador straight from the travel lift slings. The water was very oily and the surge - though not always bad - made the dock a restless place.
My doubts about the marina were confirmed one day, when the entire pontoon flipped upside down. The reasons were many, depending on who you asked. I would have loved to ask the owner, but he basically told me to fuck off and told the security to stop me from taking any photos of the marina. Nuts as he may have been, the managers below him - Galo and Mario - wasted no time in getting the poor structure fixed. Top heavy, unstable and a constant surge putting massive forces into the soft alloy beams. I'd put another 10 million in and take a completely new approach.
While it's tempting to laugh at the misfortune and design faults of the marina, the ferocity at which the crew attacked the problem was no laughing matter. Half a dozen welders and a truckload of equipment was onsite before the sun was up. Within five days the entire pontoon and its fingers - about 200 meters in lenght - had been put to pieces, lifted out of the water, welded and repaired, and put back in with additional weights, chain and features to make it more stable. The crew worked almost 24 hours a day and there was no pissing about, no twirling of thumbs. So hats off to the crew. The yard and marina had its short-comings, but when there was a need, there was action.
The yard crew posing under the freshly painted Aliisa. Happy chaps, skilful and helpful. Time for them to throw us back in the drink. A writer writes. A welder welds. A traveler travels. Time to say good bye again.
We were launched at 0800 local time and drove straight out to sea from the travel lift. A clean and freshly painted hull gave us a good speed and the log seemed to be finally working again, though without the water temp. I pulled the main up and we continued motoring in dead calm for some hours. Around midday the breeze started to wake up from the WSW and around 1500 I turned the engine off. With a current of about 1.3kn against us we managed a 2.5 kn, sails sheeted as tight as possible, across the Guayaquil Bay.
Our main concern was small unlit local fishing vessels and fishing nets, traps, unlit buoys etc. There was a constant flow of 25-30ft open boats heading out to the bay, coming from Salinas behind us and disappearing to the direction of our travel and further off shore. Each open boat had a 25-40hp outboard, 1-3 guys on board, a large fishing net and a 8-foot pole with nav lights mounted. We saw nothing floating in the water. Looked like the sea was ours.
A five star facility doesn't yet guarantee intelligence and common sence. This sign appears on the door of the female toilets, the closest flushable facility from the work yard in Puerto Lucia, about 300 meters away. When the reception is closed, what does this locked door protect you from? Certainly not from shitting in your pants! I'd love to have a chat with the person who came up with this idea. (Ah, and if you can make it to the reception, they want a $10 deposit for the key. Happy shitting in the pants if you happened to run out just for the toilet...)
Puerto Lucia work yard is clean and covered with asphalt. In a dry, dusty climate that was important. With top security and all necessary services, it was a yard I would happily come again to. Labour is available, but no-one sneered at us doing our own thing. Basic parts and paints are available, but for a serious haulout it is best to bring any specialty materials and parts with you.
The dry and dusty coast produced some beautiful sunsets. No fog and only sunny skies all the way to Lima.
First catch on the way to Peru. No need to throw the lure back in for a while.
