the 3rd border crossing

I was warned by a fellow travel to stay out of the ¨asshole towns¨on the coast of Peru... well let me tell you a little bit about Ecuador first.
I left Vilcabamba after a fabulous 2 day/3 night stay looking over the valley of longevity- it was amazing there. I decided that a taxi to Loja wasn’t too out of my budget being only $0.20 more than the bus, so I took it. There were 3 women sharing with me, so kindly I offered them the back so they could all sit together… snickering and smirking I got shotgun- YESSS!!!! I get comfortable, put on my seatbelt and the cabbie stops to pick up another, he was going in front with me- great. So I had 4th gear in my thigh 50% of the way there and breathing only through my mouth because neither of the guys in front had brushed their teeth, I’m sure of it. Well it was good because it was cheap and took half the time of the bus. Now, I had some time to kill at the terminal, one thing was for sure- I wasn’t going to eat. I decided that not having yet gotten an Ecuadorian flag, now was the opportune time, and why not take out some dollars since they are worth so much more in other countries. “So… Mr. Taxi Cab Driver, is there a place where I can get a flag that you know of?” Of course! In the center, he replies. Once in the center I ask, so where exactly am I going to find a flag? He hasn’t the slightest clue. Great, thanks for the help buddy. I end up finding one eventually, but ponder out of spite to NOT get one and instead a pair of crummy socks or something from this little country. I got one anyway and hopped the bus to Huaquillas- the border town. It would be a 5 hour journey to the border and another 2 hours to Mancora, the beachtown where I was headed. I asked to be sure if I could get another bus in Huaquillas to Mancora- “Claro” was my response over and over again. The ride was decent, but I kept thinking about weird stuff; selling popcorn on the street when meeting Keanu Reeves, the guy that bought a new car with monopoly money when the Euro came out, making buffalo wings… whatever- anyway, we arrive- not at a terminal, but a garage hole in the wall parking area in the middle of town. I was greeted by a friendly fellow who took it upon himself to help me with whatever I needed. Ok, how much to the border, or first of all- where is the border? He found me a taxi and got in too- weird… ok, and who is the 4th guy? Whatever, they took me to get the stamp and back to the Peruvian immigration point, well almost. The taxi stopped a kilometer shy of the point. Something was strange here. “Taxis can’t go that far” he says. Riiiight. So, he drags my large suitcase and I with the others, we walk though narrow dirt streets with markets, guys are walking past me with baskets of small bird eggs- the real ones, not chocolate. There is a pig being held down squealing its little tail off, one after another of people selling the same crap. A guy approaches me and offers to change money. “no thank you sir” The guy that is helping me says, are you sure? When you get to immigration in Peru they are going to ask you how long you are staying and you will have to show them some soles. If you only have dollars, they are going to see that you have lots of money and may give you trouble. “hmmmm” I think. Ok, I’ll change $10. That’s too little, he says- blah blah blah and something else… ok, $20. Are you sure? If you say you are staying 2 weeks and only have $20 worth of soles, that’s not enough. I tell them to bug off and that I would find an ATM once there. There’s no ATM in Tumbes (Peruvian border town) or Mancora, they say. This for me is quite believable, coming from Vilcabamba where there was in fact NO ATMs. Finally I say ok, $50 worth of soles should get me the bus fare, my stay in Mancora and an onward bus to a city with an ATM. Great. We continue walking. My helper abruptly stops to hand me off to another guy. This one smiles, ready to take me to Peruvian immigration and to the border town. He says 50 soles (~$17) I laugh in his face. He writes on the dirty car window 35 soles, I laugh again and ask where the bus is. He says the ride to Tumbes is 37 kilometers and the last bus leaves at 630. It was 530 now and I still had to do immigration stamping and although 37 kilometers in the US would be about 12 minutes- in South America its 37 minutes. OK, VAMOS!!!! I stamp at the “fast” checkpoint (where the taxis “aren’t allowed to go”) and we’re off. He mentions that he can take me all the way to Mancora. I tell him I want to take the bus because its cheaper- he disagrees. He asks how much I think it will be and I confidently say that it won’t be more than $2. He laughs. Slowly he continues driving, I get pretty frustrated that time is ticking away and he is being passed left and right. I tell him to step it up and he flirts with me, asking me for my ring- a souvenir. He’s lost it and I let him know. 6:17 we arrive in Tumbes, he stops alongside the road to ask if one bus company is going to Mancora- nope. He circles to another, nope again. 6:24 he comes to a different cab that wants $8 for the ride- TAKE ME TO THE TERMINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don’t want a stupid expensive taxi, we’ve already gone over this! He tells me I’m trouble and within seconds we’re at another terminal that doesn’t have a departure until 10:30pm. Finally we get to the right one, it’s 6:28- the bus leaves at 7:30. I hate him and want to punch him in the face. I feel good finally leaving the cab and at this small terminal. I leave my luggage and get a funky motorcycle carriage taxi to a bakery for some snacky breads. When paying I find out 150 of my 162 soles are fake- monopoly money so to speak. I have images of going back to find the guy and doing the same thing that those guys in the street were doing to that pig. I hate him too- and the guy that led me to him… ARRRGGHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Heartbroken, I turn to my carriage moto taxi driver and tell him I also need an ATM. Spilling the story of what just happened to me to anyone who’d listen- and getting a second and third opinions on if they were really fake or not. 730 rolled around, 8pm… 815 and we’re on the road. Someone had fresh fish on the bus, the guy behind me played video games-with sound, the movie played in English but there was no volume to be heard and one guy in front was standing to block about 30% of the viewing public screen- me included, the guy in front of me decided it was a fine time to change his ring tones, the little boys next to me couldn’t stop moving and every few minutes tried staggering up 4 rows to their family to get more food to chomp on. We stopped at one point and everyone got off. I had no idea what was going on and didn’t want to get off, but they told me if I wasn’t pregnant I needed to get off. Within minutes we were all back on and rolling- this time with everyone filling their face. Now it wasn’t only fish smell and B.O. it was also chips, chicken meals, oranges, and the smell of so many mouths being open at once…that’s just gross. Finally Mancora has me- Peru has me. Not that I didn’t like it in Ecuador, I met some amazing people, Guayaquil was nice and the center of the world was real, and Vilcabamba- well that was what I’ll try to remember as Ecuador. But honestly I couldn’t be happier to be out of that God-forbidden country. I didn’t hate it, well- yes I did. And of course I don’t want to dissuade tourism to any given place, so I have to recommend that if you are visiting this part of the world- Go to Colombia.
Ecuador was dry, brown and crusty. It was expensive. The buses sucked. People pretended to be something else. I got food poisoning. I got left behind. I got ripped off- come on! $50 will last me a week!!! The coffee was awful- instant grains mixed with hot milk. And the bakeries were crap, no creativity. Definitely NOT where one of my future homes will be.