I arrived in Esmeraldas in the late afternoon. I sat in the central plaza, under the shade of a gazebo, and tucked in to two sweet and juicy mangos. My face, hands and flip knife were a real state by the end of my fruity feast. With only a tiny piece of tissue I tried to make myself look less like a disturbingly overgrown toddler. It sort of worked.
My mess, my huge rucksack or my pink face, or probably all of the above, attracted the attention of a small boy who came to stand beside me and stare. Apparently I am a bizarre spectacle to behold.
His mother, chuckling at his blatant and motionless gawking, struck up a conversation. She said she was always curious to see folks travelling around with huge backpacks but thought she could never do it. 'You're very brave.'
She managed to coax the boy out his his open mouthed trance to hand him a 'pan de yuka'. He shuffled towards me and held out the hot cheesy dough ball, eyes wide and unblinking. I took it and thanked them both, and smirked at my bewildered admirer.
As darkness fell, I wandered into a Internet cafe so that I could try and contact a friend of a friend who might be able to put me up. The owner asked me immediately if I had heard of Couch Surfing.
'Yes! I use it all the time.'
He did too, and offered me a place to stay. What a convenient coincidence!
889 Rides
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| The Pacific Ocean |
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