The Farm

Are We in Manta?

Moving to Montañita

After tooling south along the coast of Ecuador, looking for a place to open shop, we came to a town called Montañita, and soon learned it’s one of the country’s many hidden gems. Relief washed over us with each wave, lapping at the foot of our hostel.  When the van dropped us off and I spotted one of the cutest boys I’d ever seen, hanging over the first balcony, I knew it was the place to be.

Montañita is tiny. The main, L shaped strip is about six blocks long and packed with activity. Travelers, foolish enough to attempt driving through the strip sat still, as irreverent tourists meandered through the street.

Our first night, we ate and drank at an open-air tiki-bar, right in the thick of it. Astounded by the richness in color and life surrounding me, the burning urge to pull out my video camera was smothered by insecurity, a fear that the setting was too intimate, yet so public, a familiar fear that I would have to set aside if I was ever going to capture something that supremely awesome.

By the next day, the awkwardness passed and I was back to filming everything in sight. We were in love with Montañita.

The boys and I scrapped our initial plan of exploring the entire coast of Ecuador (searching for the perfect location to open a surf shop), because this was it. We got busy: relaxing, eating endless bowls of ceviche, observing society as it came to a halt during World Cup matches, building local connections and strolling repeatedly up and down the strip of our minuscule town. It was like… a movie set.

Local lore says it’s magical. Apparently, there are elves. And each night, for all to see, thousands of birds come to roost along the power wires in the heart of town. For about an hour as the sun sets, these birds arrive, each finding their place along the crowded line. They preen and ruffle their feathers, tweeting and chirping whatever it is birds gossip about before stuffing their little beaked faces under a wing for the night. Then, as if there’s no raging, endless party in the street below their teeny feet, they sleep.

At dawn, little white drops rain down in a real-life shit-storm (shit-shower?) as the birds flutter and wake. Each bird does it’s thing at it’s own pace, some early, others late, until by midday, when they’ve left only a trace: white speckled stripes below the power lines. Locals (yes, still partying), know to stay undercover during this time. It’s the unwitting tourists who get “blessed”.

When you visit Montañita, be sure to stay at Las Palmeras.  A man named D owns the hostel we called home.  He’s Ecuadorian, but lived in New York City for 25 years.  In many ways a true New Yorker – he’s frank, fast and down-to-business.  But D fell for the laid back life at the beach.  His wife, Lady, helps him run the hostel which is currently being doubled in size.

The town is booming.  While tourists discover it’s unique mystery and charm, it’s clear the secret is out about Montañita.  It was developing before our eyes…

We stayed for five days, noting constant transformation.  New light-posts were installed, new sidewalks and curbs, freshly paved streets.

It wasn’t just in Montañita – across Ecuador, there were hundreds of trees being planted, streets repaired, locals being put to work, together improving lives for generations to come.  I later learned much of the progress is thanks to a new leader, President Correa, who has recently created taxes in Ecuador, a move that’s won him heated, understandably mixed reviews.

By the time we had to leave, we promised ourselves that we’d come back.  We talked with D about our ideas, immediately deciding on a return trip for New Years.  We’ll fill his entire place with our friends!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

This video is from one of our last days in Montañita…

Island Hoppin’ a la Galápagos

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

It was time to move on.  Thacher, Andrew, Rene and I packed up and left our beloved Montañita in a speeding van, with D and Lady at the helm.  She looked at him for reassurance as we flew at warp speed along the newly paved highway.

Apparently, this drive used to take a lot longer.  Before we knew it, we were pulling into the most chaotic traffic any of us gringos had ever seen.  There were fires along side the road, people shouting, lots of honking, people darting into traffic left and right.  We had heard Guayaquil was dangerous, but this was like Wild Animal Kingdom, in the city.

Never pausing long enough to risk a car-jacking, D cursed in Spanish, one hand on the horn at all times.  The boys and I exchanged nervous glances.

The plan was: chose a nice hotel as close as possible to the airport, then check in and stay there until it was time to fly out in the morning.  We were under strict advice not to go out in Guayaquil.

Our hotel, one of the best around, was one of the most highly secure places I’ve ever been.  It was like visiting the Pentagon!  Cameras from all angles and the speedy elevators would go (after a room-key swipe) to our floor only.  Figuring out how to get to Thacher and Andrew’s room (on a different level) was like a scene from Mission Impossible.

The next morning, we were driven to the airport in a van supplied by the travel agency who booked our Galapagos trip.  Everything went smoothly until we arrived at the Galapagos airport (600 miles west of the west coast of Ecuador, along the Equator), when we realized it costs 100 dollars, cash, just to get through the airport.  Between the four of us, there was only just over 300 dollars.  Since there’s no ATM at the endearingly open-air Galapagos airport, I was instructed to leave my passport with security and bring the cash to retrieve it on my way back to the mainland, five days later.  (Which wasn’t easy!)

Inconvenience quickly forgotten, I was already ogling the multitude of life forms lounging on the docks where we waited in groups of 8 for a little dingy to shuttle us to the Eden.

That was her name, Eden, a 16-passenger cruise ship was our new home, island hopping around the Galapagos.

Here’s a video I’ve put together from the first half of our Galapagos adventure…

Eco-Tourism in Ecuador

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I gave Wlady no restrictions when it came to setting up our eco-adventures – just told him I love animals and want to see as many different ones as possible and that I REALLY wanted to meet some monkeys.  He gave us the plan, we proceeded accordingly…

First was Punay.  Joined by two other Americans, Christine & Jerricka from Massachusetts, we piled into a couple taxis for a long drive, landing at the foot of a mountain, going higher than the clouds.  There we rented a donkey to hoist some of our things, strapped on our backpacks and began our ascent.  It was quite a climb.

At the top of the mountain, high above the clouds, we found an ancient pyramid in the shape of the sacred Guacamaya bird.  Carbon dated at 2400 BC (pre-Mayan, pre-Incan) it’s quite possibly the oldest man-made structure in the Americas.  And it was lost for thousands of years.

Largely undiscovered, I’m may be the first person in history to film the place, which is important because  the site needs protection.  Regularly assaulted by looters and grave-robbers, it’s dotted with holes.  Hopefully, my film will help Wlady gain some well-deserved recognition for Punay.

The view from the top, especially at sunset, when the great golden orb slides down between the cloud layers, is astounding.  According to the mythology, it’s a place of the gods.

That night, in a restless sleep, packed in a tent with my comrades like sardines at the top of Punay, I started having the most intense dreams.  In those dreams, I was receiving messages from god-like entities.  Messages about purpose and why I was there.  Messages that I am on the right path, to beware of demons that may appear human.  They speak in a strange whisper tongue and can suck the life from you.  I have never been a religious person, but these were some powerful dreams.

Here’s a video I made, from Mt. Punay:

In the morning, we made our way back to Riobamba to regroup for the next adventure.

We headed to Chimborazo.  There we met our local guide, Darwin, and rented six horses from the indigenous people.  Wlady’s idea to support the local families this way has made him very popular in the area.  We saddled up and made our way into the endless mountain range.

Moving along at a comfortable pace, we were delighted.  We didn’t understand that we were on a time budget.  If we didn’t make it through the mountains by a certain time, we were going to get wet.  Sure enough, what originally looked like  gray haze in the distance, soon consumed us.

With an occasional whip to the ass, the horses were galloping quickly, taking us for quite a bumpy ride.  Our butts took such beatings!

Finally we arrived in Salinas.  Moments after stepping into the little restaurant where we ate, it began to pour.  I felt sorry for the horses waiting outside.  We warmed ourselves by the fire, drank some hot tea and had some pork chops and potatoes.

What’s amazing about the remote town of Salinas, deep in the Andes mountain range, is the way they’ve figured out how to protect and ensure their economic survival.  We went to a co-op, where women in the area sell their woven goods, scarves, sweaters, hats and gloves of wool and alpaca.  We visited the chocolate factory, where they make some of the world’s best chocolate.  In Salinas, they also produce some of the world’s finest cheese.  It’s a rare community that has completely eliminated immigration to larger cities, because there are ample opportunities for work in Salinas, at the cheese and chocolate factories or through the local co-op, craft making.

The next day, we mounted our horses, forging our way over and through the mountain range in what turned out to be the greatest physical challenge  of our trip.

Several hours into the trek, weakened a bit from altitude sickness, I lost my perk.  Five hours slowly turned to six, seven…  At one point, climbing through rocky terrain, my horse lost it’s footing.  Then, right on schedule the thick white clouds came, swallowing us in a milky abyss.  Then hail.

Coming down the steep, slippery and jagged terrain, we had to dismount.  It was just too dangerous to risk toppling over (or under!) a horse.

A little bit longer, right around the next bend, five more minutes became an eternity.  The hail turned to rain, then more rain, accompanied my booming thunder and lightening.

Wlady knew we were fatigued, so the first (and only) truck we saw, he flagged down and asked the driver for a ride.  Eager to rest our butts, we handed the horses over to Darwin and clamored into the truck.  Two of us sat in front, the rest smooshed in back, making little nests for themselves in a full load of fresh garlic.

The garlic truck took us for about five minutes (in the direction we had already been going for at least five hours), until it stopped at a lone home, where several people came out to see the spectacle.  A few chuckles later, we were on our way again, this time on foot.  Another truck came along – this time empty in back – so we jumped in.  Finally we arrived at some hot springs, two steaming pools full of indigenous people (mostly children), as remote as can be, in the mountains.

On our last day, we found an even better hot springs location, Banos.  Banos is a popular tourist town, largely thanks to the gorgeous mountain view at the local hot springs.  Next, we passed through Puyo on our way to Zanjaorajuno, a jungle animal rescue and ecological research center.  There, we followed our guide down a long path through the jungle, stopping here and  there to make monkey calls.

It only took a few minutes until monkeys were coming at us from all directions.  Naturally, we gave them bananas.

Urban Mamas on the Run

Check out my DIY-documentary of the 2010 Hood2Coast Relay!  Starring the Urban Mamas: