Last week, all of Ecuador had school and work vacation. As is the norm here on the coast, we all headed off the to the beach. My parents own a small beach house in San Jacinto, one of the small but popular beaches that draws hoards tourists and Ecuadorians alike. Luckily, my cousin from the US has been working here in Ecuador, and was able to visit me during the break. We got to enjoy the true Ecuadorian beach experience together, and also got to catch up on just about everything under the sun [“3rd world toilet experiences” to the struggles of hand washing clothing to the famous delicacy, cuy [guinea pig]]. He also motivated me to start reading more Spanish texts, not only to practice and gain vocab, but also because there are some really fabulous writers from South/Latin America that few Americans get to experience in their non-translated original versions. After I got home I did invest in a National Geographic Traveler magazine, which I’ve been very, very, very slowly making my way through.
What struck me about the beach was just how different it was from the rest of Ecuador. One of the most interesting things about this country is it’s diversity—the culture, the food, the climate, the accents, the general way of life—even though its so small. I technically live on the coast. I’m about 30-40 minutes from the ocean, and the culture here is certainly different from that in the Sierras [mountains] or the Orient [eastern part]. But, the REAL coast—where a 5-10 minute walk gets you to the beach, is a completely different zone. The best word to describe it is “tranquila.” Tranquila is a favorite word here, and is pretty generally used for anything calm, peaceful, and quiet. The houses on the beach were pretty small and rickety [usually made out of some kind of cane or cement], but they are all painted these beautiful blues and peaches. The streets are quiet during the day, and you can plop yourself down in a hammock and swing with that sticky sea wind that we all love so much. Before meals, we sat around the kitchen table and talked, listening to my mom and aunt chatter in incomprehensible Spanish, zipping around barefoot in the tiny kitchen, preparing the foods that have been popular here on the coast for hundreds and thousands of years. The only time of the day that you might actually “hurry,” is to finish your food so that the next group can sit down at the kitchen table to eat. The whole family, friends, distant relatives, etc. drop by for a meal or just to chat, so there is always a need for more chairs, more space, and another plate.
I was also lucky enough to get a bit of a “beach tour.” I’ve already been to Puerto Lopez [very touristy, famous beach where you eat meals in hammocks and can take a horseback adventure along the water for $2], Crucita [beach closest to Portoviejo—most Ecuadorians say that it’s ugly, but for US standards I’d say its pretty beautiful], and Manta [beach town that could be mistaken for parts of Florida—very modernized]. But, there are a few beaches that I’ve heard countless stories about—basically beaches with no police or laws, where everyone goes crazy at night [and to some extent during the day]. They’re gorgeous beaches and huge tourist attractions, but their reputation is what’s really recognized. After a decent amount of pleading from my sister, my parents agreed to take us [during daylight hours, for about an hour and a half] to show us what it was all about. The beaches were PACKED, and there were tiny stores and restaurants lining every street. There were bars right on the beach, and there were men pushing carts full of fresh coconuts, that they’ll chop a hole into and slip in a straw for about a dollar 50. There were tons of thru-hikers, hippies with dreds, someone questionable people dressed up as all sorts of random things, and then armies of curious tourists and Ecuadorians.
It was a fantastic vacation, and I’m looking forward to the holidays when all of Ecuador swarms the coast and indulges in ‘full fiestas.’
