I Abhora Mancora

Dear family and friends,


My overnight bus bounced off the highway and came to a dusty halt in front of the police station in Casma, Peru. It was 6:15AM. There were a half dozen men lolling around in the early morning half-light, none in uniform. The driver and I got off the bus and he approached the most senior looking man and started talking to him in Spanish, explaining my predicament.


"Habla usted Ingles, senor?” I said, not wanting to be excluded from the conversation. ("Do you speak English?")


"Poco", he answered ("A little"), but I never did hear him use any.


Then in a torrent of Spanish, little of which I understood, but from which I did gather, I should wait a moment and he would get me to the bus terminal. And within minutes, almost as though it had all been scheduled in advance, I was in a car with three policemen and another young couple and we were off, headed back up the Panamerican Highway in the direction from which I had just come. The car was a 1975 Chevrolet Biscayne, faded, pealing paint, re-upholstered at least 15 years ago and in desperate need of another one. The muffler leaked, the shock absorbers were shot, but we rocketed off down the highway at 130 kph, just as it was getting gray light. The old Chevvy floated and weaved, the massive hood rippled and bounced as though it was about to fly off. No one spoke - the roar of the motor would have drowned it out anyway - the young woman in the back was weeping and wiping away tears. I have no idea what the problem was.

Galapagos

Dear family and friends,

"Prickly pear cactus!  Prickly pear cactus!  My Gahd, I can't believe how much he talked about prickly pear cactus!  We've got millions of prickly pear cactus in Texas," Cecelia started in a whisper but ended with a near squeal to emphasize her dismay that Ruly, our naturalist tour leader, would spend so much time discussing something which is so uninterestingly common in her home state of Texas. 

Cecelia is from Port Aransas on the Gulf Coast, and was apparently unaware that our tour to the Galapagos Islands was intended for more than just folks from her home state.  Or alternately, she may not know that prickly pear cactus does not grow in Canada, England, Norway, and northern United States from whence the other nine of us on the tour come, or that this is a unique species of prickly pear cactus.  In her mid fifties with sun-bleached hair, brightly painted toe nails, and the grooming of someone desperate to look younger - but being resolutely betrayed by the sagging flab bubbling over her belt line - I am not quite sure why Cecelia decided to come to the Galapagos Islands.  With the urbanity of one who has seldom traveled outside Texas, I am quite certain that she has no knowledge that the Galapagos is the crucible of the Theory of Evolution, or as commonly known, Survival of the Fittest Through Natural Selection, as proposed by Charles Darwin in 1859.  Darwin spent less than one month in the islands in 1835, but his extraordinary ability for observation permitted him to identify many different endemic species - that is, they only occur here in the Galapagos - including 14 different species of finches, now known as Darwin finches.  It was his keen observations of how specialized the finches had become in adapting to their particular environment that propelled him to his conclusions of the evolution of species.

The Galapagos Islands, a group of some twenty islands and forty islets, lies 1,000 km off the coast of Ecuador with the equator running directly through it.  The Galapagos were my next stop after flying out of Santiago.  Then an enjoyable flight took me from Quito, the capital of Ecuador, to the airport located on Baltra Island from where I was whisked off to board the vessel Cruz del Sur for a five day/four night tour of the highlights of several islands. 

I Adore Ecuador

Dear family and friends,

After my visit to the Galapagos Islands, I joined a small group tour for a transverse of Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia. I met my group in Quito, the capital city. Besides myself, there is a guy from Norway, and seven women, three from Norway, three from England and one Australian. All the others are between nineteen and twenty-five. Our leader, Alex, is a Bolivian guy who grew up in Montréal. As well, we have a tour leader trainee with us. Alex and the trainee, an American guy, are likewise, under twenty-five. I stick out a bit.

I like Alex a lot. He is energetic, enthusiastic, and very knowledgeable about anthropology and archaeology, his father being a professor of archaeology at Laval University in Québec City. The archetypical machismo Latino, Alex is handsome with raven black hair, deep brown eyes, and he has the physique of a professional dancer, which he was before becoming a tour leader. He has all the moves. Charming, engaging and considerate, he did complicate the group dynamics a bit, however, by singling out one of the Norwegian girls for special sleeping arrangements from the very first night.

I really liked Ecuador. After Argentina and Chile where there is almost no evidence of indigenous people and limited colonial architecture, Quito, and the other few cities I visited, were a welcome change. And I must add, after Chile, dining is again an agreeable activity with lots of tasty local and international foods available.