REALES TAMARINDOS- a really bad trip

read THE FOLLOWING entry FIRST I entered the terminal and found my bus. It was funny, the office for my bus line was just a hole in the wall compared to the rest of the companies. Oh, well, only an 8 hour trip. I can do anything for 8 hours. I walk trying to find an internet access point to post the previous story, in doing so I run into a tsssker who ends up following me wanting to talk. Ok, how do I get rid of him? He asks me questions, I answer. I make my way to the burgers at the entrance, that weren’t that appealing, but surely would grant me solid sleep on the bus and hopefully get this guy out of my site for the next 30 minutes. Nope. He comes in too. I get my food, he follows me to my table, stands next to me, and continues to ask questions and talk. Finally, trying to be nice, I tell him to sit down and not be such a dork. (the second half in English) I scarf down my burger fast so I can wait outside without his company for my bus. Meanwhile Christian, the dork, is writing down all of his information for me; his country, province, city, barrio, address, home phone, & 2 cell phone numbers. Once complete he goes over each individual piece of information with me- and ultimately asks me to come back in 2 weeks when he finishes his work and to stay with him and his family for a week. I’ve found at this point that being truthful with the guy is much less effective than telling them what they want to hear. Things such as “so, will I see you later?” “you’ll call me and we can go out tonite?” “oh, you don’t have a phone, do you want my number?” when answered truthfully all result in bad feelings and explanations that I don’t feel like giving or aren’t necessary. Whereas if I just go along with it, it’s clean cut and I’m outta there, leaving them with a smile on their face-never to see them again. (hopefully) I can’t find my bus, it’s not there. I have a bad feeling about this for some reason. Other lines drivers look at my ticket and ask me why I chose the ugly line and ask me if I want to switch. I go for it. My bus pulls in, I take a look and decide I definitely have to change. Can’t. OF COURSE I CAN’T- I’M IN ECUADOR!!!! I could pay again- a whole $8- but none of the bums wanted my ticket to go to a beach town. I stayed with Reales Tamarindo. There were 60 seats covered with maroon plastic, 7 seats were taken. There was no reclining feature. No baggage storage under the seats, only up top. I spot that the back seat is open…YESSS! I sprawl out, guarding my laptop, backpack, and new Ecuadorian purse with my socked feet. My shoes are above me, drying. Ok, this may not be so bad after all, I have plenty of room—UH, here we go. Wow, this bus is super loud, oh! and bumpy! It’s probably just the parking lot. 5 minutes later my shoes fall on my head, my stomach is in a bunch. I have to move to the front. It’s cold, and not the air conditioning kind of cold, rather a cold from the night. A cold that only happens when the windows slide open by themselves because the ride is so rough. I pack myself into the 2 seater spot and jam all my stuff against the window so that I am resting against it, put on all my layers of clothes and cover my face with another sweater. Just about in la-la-land I get a tap on my knee to see my ticket. “Buddy, why did you wait an hour to collect the tickets?” Is everything ok? he asks. “No, it’s horrible- the regaeton on the radio is super loud and its midnight (to keep the bus driver awake), its freezing, uncomfortable, and theres no bathroom! No, I’m not ok.” Careless, he continues to the last person. I can’t fall asleep, I feel crappy. My stomach is doing flips because the bus has no shocks. Finally, we stop. Oh my gosh, YESSS! I run to the bathroom at the gas station and puke out the burger I ate hours before, ISH. Washing my face, I hear the roar of the bus starting back up. I get outside…the bus is gone. Well, maybe I just can’t see it, I don’t have my glasses on. I run over to the 3 people sitting outside- where is the bus? It didn’t leave, did it? It left. I’m tired, sick, sightless, and unable to say as much as I want to say. All I can do it get my point across- I am traveling for a year and ALL of my things are on that bus- my money, passport, camera, computer, bank card, glasses, contacts, EVERYTHING. “Aaaaye mi amor!” says one of the girls. They talk between themselves while I am contemplating what has just happened to me. I cloudily overhear, “we can call the busline… but even so, someone will have taken her things by then” Within minutes one of them runs over to me and tells me that I have a ride. A ride to where? I ask. He brings me to a truck with who knows what in the back and 3 guys in the cabin. Here, these guys will take you… are you kidding me? TAKE ME WHERE? I look at Maribel, the girl who I most trust out of the 3 gas station sitters, what should I do, I ask? She shrugs. Is it dangerous to go with these random guys? They are ready to go and I stop them, I’ll go. Maribel runs inside to give me her phone number, $5 and reminds me that my bus line is Reales Tamarindos, bus number #24. That’s all I had, $5 and a bus number. What in the world was I going to do? I had everything on that bus. I still don’t know where these guys are going to take me, but I have a funny sort of trust with them- that they are good people. The truck is slower than I’d like, but within 15 or 20 minutes we pull up to a bus terminal, one of the guys says, I think you’re in luck. Really? I hadn’t any hope that my bus was there, they just stopped 20 minutes earlier. He went in and came back to get me. I followed and started telling a new guy at the station that ALL of my things were on that bus. He very calmly asks me if I need to use the bathroom. NO! I want to be on my bus! He leads me outside. I recognize one of the guys, sort of, I have to squint. He points to the bus. I look at him with angst, and slowly get on. I recognize the family at the front, oh my gosh! this is my bus!!!! Bit by bit I make my way to my seat- it’s all there, I can’t believe it. Until now I had been calm, but upon sitting down, my tears just flow and I am sobbing. Ok, so that’s over, but I still feel crappy- I do need to use the bathroom. I tell both drivers, hey wait for me, I won’t be more than 2 minutes- just like the last place, idiots. They wait. And we’re off… I hated that bus, but was SO happy to be back on it. I curled myself into a ball in my tiny little space, but got really hot fast. I was taking my layers off. For some reason the assistant guy came around and asked me if I was ok, I said that I was surely going to throw up because of this stupid bus. He brought me a small plastic bag and instantly I used it, wiping my mouth with the wet sox I had been wearing all day. I littered again and again that night. I wasn’t about to keep them neat and tidy inside. Finally I went up to the front. “Guys, I need a bathroom.” They looked at me funny. “como se dice, my ass is going to explode en espanol?” They stopped, of course they stopped, they left me behind for goodness sake! At 4 in the morning the guards are sleeping though, so stop #1 was a no-go. I had half a mind to do my duty behind a building, but they hurried me along to the next place. Minutes later, they stopped in the middle of road and told me there was no place. No problem, I left my mark in the middle of the road. Around 530am the bus started stopping every few minutes to pick up school children and workers that were going the same way. About 630 the guy came back to tell me that we were almost in Manta. I got my shoes on and started drinking water because I was SO dehydrated. I knew I’d be sick again, but thought if we were almost there, it didn’t matter- I’d have a toilet soon. Certainly he was premature in telling me that, because we didn’t arrive until 2 hours later. We stopped and picked up EVERYONE on the road, soon the isle was packed full of people and even I was sharing my 2 seat space in the front. I read the signs posted: NO SMOKING, NO PUFFING, NO LOUD RADIO. The lady next to me lit one up. Are you kidding me? I looked her in the eye and wanted to puke all over her fancy shmancy crappy shoes. I hated her. One after another came in smelling of overdone perfume and B.O, the guy next to me was spitting on the floor. Obviously these people had no idea what they were doing to me. Finally, FINALLY we arrived to the Manta terminal- one helpful gentlemen took my big suitcase without prior warning and lifted it above his head onto his shoulder- are you kidding me? wow. I told him to follow me, I had to find out about my on-going ticket and get some fresh melon juice. I again knew what this would do, but just didn’t care at this point. So Mr. Strong and myself walked around the bus station with all of my things (YEAH! all of my things!) and finally got to a hotel by the beach that was cheap. I wasn’t planning on staying the night in Manta, but I was in fact going to get a hotel where I could sleep for some hours before I went to the beach. I was in shambles. A few hours passed of me clutching my stomach and ending the sick process and I decided that I needed to take something that would make me feel better. I didn’t know what that was yet, but I had to find it and quick. I exited the hotel and the first guy that passed by was selling small cups of cola from a 3 liter- perfect. I got myself some club social crackers and made it far enough to see the water, which is only a block away, but after 30 minutes of being out, I needed to be back in the bed at the Boulevard Hotel. I got word that I shouldn’t arrive to Guayaquil until late Friday afternoon, so after sleeping the fabulous day away Thursday, it works out that I will get to enjoy Manta’s beach on Friday afterall. Looking back, I can say without a doubt that last night tops off even my night train, food poisoning incident in Ukraine last year. It was in fact my worst night ever, but thank God its over.