First, though, I would have to navigate the urban jungle of Quito. I felt nervous about entering such an infamously sketchy city at 2 am in the morning with nothing more than the address of the hostel I had booked. I approached a waiting taxi, negotiated a price and jumped in. The street scenery was entirely different from where I had come from. Spiked metal fences surrounded old brick houses that were painted with bright advertisements. Cinder block walls had shattered glass embedded in cement along their tops and metal shutters barricaded each store front. Nobody was on the streets. It was extremely foggy and my driver proceeded cautiously into the uncertain night.
We entered the old town where my hostel was and the streets and city became exceedingly elegant and beautiful. We passed by old colonial houses set along brightly lit cobbled streets that wrapped their way along the steep hills. With little trouble he found the Secret Garden Hostel where I had reserved a dorm bed. I asked him to wait outside until somebody had opened the door. Being left alone on a street in a large South American city is a terrifying experience. This I know from experience.
A fully armoured secuirty guard opened the door and invited me in. I thanked the driver and asked him his name. "Carlos, y tu?" he replied. Looking into his dark andian face a surge of thoughts and experiences flooded my mind and without thinking twice I answered him "me llamo Airon." It had been many years since I had introduced myself using my Spanish alias. As I stepped into the hostel my circumstances of being in a wildly different developing country finally hit me and strangely, I felt somewhat at home.
After a short sleep I excitedly went up to the hostel's roof top bar to see if the view was as good as the hostel had advertised. I was blown away by and contently sat down in observation. Verdant hills partially covered in clouds loomed all around my view as if forming the sides of a giant bowl. Inside the bowl was, of course, a sizzling, buzzing, honking and smoking soup of human activity. Tiled roofs covered the closely packed buildings and were lit up with colourful lines of drying clothing. Numerous domes and cathedral towers prominently pierced above the tiles about a kilometer away. Quito's historic center, the world's first internationally recognized cultural heritage site, was my primary interest as I had only a single day in the capital before leaving to start my volunteer internship in the cloudforest.
While eating a small breakfast provided by my hostel an attractive girl from poland recommended that I start my exploratory hike in the basilica. "Where is that, " I asked. She pointed to a monstrous gothic cathedral looming over the city. "oh that," I replied. It wasn't particularly attractive but for $2 they would let me climb up into the bell tower for a grand view of the city. Before heading off I consulted a hostel employee about safety concerns. As I had expected, he warned me that for gringos there was a high risk of aggressive pickpocketing, fraud artists and violent robbery among other things. I figured I would employ my usual sketchy big city tactics: most importantly, travel with little valuables and with absolutely nothing visible; study the map before hand and walk through the streets like you know them; look around to scout danger, watch cars as they pass behind you to sneak in nonchalant observations of all directions; don't get distracted, not even by physical contact, if someone is trying to distract you evade them --they may be working with others to distract you from your possessions-- "yo tengo prisa!" (I am in a hurry!), you say to smooth over your rapid escape; of course, if danger is spotted evade, walk quickly or run if the situation warrants it; finally, if mugged or confronted offer all your possessions, don't fight, don't be stupid, it is not worth the risk. Guns and knives are commonly involved in Quito muggings, though rarely used (except for maybe a pistol whipping).
I safely arrived at the basilica. Actually, it seemed hard to imagine that there could be any threat. The streets were crowded with businessman, school children and respectable, friendly looking people. I payed the $2 and entered the basilica. To my surprise an elevator whisked me up 10 stories to the tower. This seemed a little disappointing. But then I was directed to an old wooden plank. A sketchy wooden walkway was cemented into the roof providing access to climb all over and explore the cathedral's several towers and balconies. It was awesome! Something they would never let you do in Canada.
For the rest of my day I walked around Quito's historic center making sure to at least visit each of the main plazas, a couple of the most historically significant churches and stop for some traditional Ecuadorian food. Plaza San Francisco was swarming with military and excited onlookers. A man told me that President Santos of Colombia and President Correa of Ecuador were about to appear on the Palace's balcony. I stuck around and watched the energetic scene of marching bands, military marches and popular chants of "Vive Santos, Vive Correa, Vive Ecuador" ....etc. I also anxiously watched as a critical protest was calmly quelled by the police.
Such as I normally find in Latin America, the streets were lively and full of music and vibrant activity. Living in smaller houses, having a lack of yards and being accustomed to the cultural pastime of socializing in the central plazas seems to pushes people's lives out into the streets. In contrast, in Vancouver and much of North America, we have a luxury of space that allows us to be more reclusive, private and less open and interactive with the community. I suppose their is some good and perhaps some bad in this. Regardless, I am delighted to participate and be a part of the action found in the streets of Latin America.
The next day I left early to pay my fees for a two week volunteer-ship in the Toachi-Pilaton Cloudforest Reserve. I didn't like the idea of paying to volunteer, but $300 covered two weeks of accomodation in a wicked looking jungle lodge, plus food and the benefit of meeting and being guided by knowledgable local conservation workers. Also, the volunteer money, aswell as work, is an essential contribution for many non-governemnt agencies in this part of the world.
I paid my fees, was briefed on how to arrive at the reserve and then headed straight to the terminal to catch a bus bound for the coast. I love the actual motion and act of travelling, so I was delighted to watch the beautiful Andian countryside pass me by from the comfort of a rather luxurious bus. After reaching the edge of the highland plateau we began a precipitous descent towards the Pacific lowlands. Here thick clouds overtook my view. We were entering a type of forest that is perpetually shrouded in thick clouds, which form as heavy wet air rises up the Andes, cools, contracts and causes its moisture to condense.
Much further down we broke through the clouds and were met with views of a thriving, jungle covered mountain-scape. Stunning waterfalls shot over vertical cliffs above us and cascaded all along side the road. The steep hills were semi-obscured by mist and seemed to be exploding outwards with a vibrant, verdant and wild forest. Greenery was spilling out onto the road in the form of tangled bamboo and tall grass. Epiphytic plants smothered each tree we passed. Epiphytes are plants that grow on trees and they have a tendency to make forests appear as if layers and layers of plants are growing on top of each other. They also perpetuate the mistyness of forests because they soak up moisture during rain events, hold it like a sponge and then slowly let it evapotranspire during the heat of the day. Having come from the dead of the Canadian winter I was thrilled to see such life and energy.
Noticing that I was nearing my destination, a tiny highway-side town called La Esperie, I proceeded to the front of the bus and asked the driver if we were there yet. He swerved to the side of the road and told me to hike back aways. I began along the road feeling quite out of place. I passed old wooden shacks with chickens running about. Uniformed school children walked by me giving me friendly smiles as they went. It was incredibly hot and humid and a group of villagers watched me curoiously from the shade of a small store just off the road. I gave them an awkward wave and they sent friendly nods back. Wow, culture shock, I thought. How brilliant, how long it has been!
I found the old stone gate that I was told would mark the beginning of a narrow cobbled road that climbs up to the reserve. The noisy road behind me faded into the background as the calls of mysteriously unseen birds, crickets and who knows what else began to sing and croak from the depths of the jungle. I was cautioned to be wary of snakes and tarantulas along this path.
As I climbed further I entered a less disturbed portion of the cloudforest. Distinctively red ferns covered the ground in some patches while a plethora of diverse and mesmerizing plants grew all around. One plant had a solid trunk ten feet high with three utterly massive heart shaped leaves coming off the top (like 4 ft long and 3 feet wide!). Singley pinnate ferns the size of myself grew over the top of other ferns that were growing like vines and had three fronds coming from each node. My favourite of all the ferns was one growing by a spreading rhizome along the moss draped cliffs that seemed like an over-sized liquorice fern.
After 1.5 km the cobbled path leveled out and suddenly some massive trees came into view. They were absolutely spectacular! From a single thick trunk of nearly 2 m wide came many large trunks, each spreading off to occupy a piece of the cloud filled sky. Tropical epiphytes almost entirely covered their smooth reddish-brown bark. These were mostly bromeliads (aloevera-like plants) with red spike-like inflorescences, the over sized liquoice fern-like plants and the occasional tree of moderate size growing from nooks large enough for soil to accumulate. One of these large trees was set right beside the road and I admired a thick root that was wrapping its way down the trunk from an epiphytic tree with large baloon-shaped glossy leaves.
I dropped by bag and then toured around the farm-like layout of the reserve headquarters. Meeting the other volunteer as we went, I met one girl had been there for 5 1/2 months while another had decided to stay for an entire year. I saw the organic vegetable garden, the stables, the medicinal garden and the school, which they had built, in part, to educate the local children about the forest. Mandarin orange and lemon trees grew wild all over the place. The kitchen and dining area were artfully built using cob. Scattered, were beautiful pockets of chinese bamboo they used as building materials that grew 50ft high. Everywhere I went there were panoramas of steep misty mountains covered with thriving and primevil jungle. It was wild and to me, it seemed like paradise.
After the tour I was brought by the volunteer coordinator to the volunteer house, which was pretty much the quintessential jungle lodge with outdoor showers, wide balconies and thatch walls and roof. My room smelt pretty mouldy and the beds were saggy with obvious springs poking from inside but the view from my second story balcony was straight into the jungle. Most importantly, it was with a direct view into the beautiful, large trees I had admired on the way in. I sat down in awe and contentment as a flock of large blue and black birds swooped into the large trees and then flew on to the next. With my binoculars I observed the trees more closely. Their high branches supported large bipinnate leaves with tiny leaflets that moved softly in the humid breeze. They looked leguminous and they most certainly were. Later, I would learn these were Acacia trees.
I sat in awe of the large trees and jungle scene. Every 15 minutes or so some interesting wildlife would appear infront of my balcony. Red squirrels similar to what we have in the interior of BC performed amazing acrobatics and later, one curiously large hummingbird came and spent quite a bit of time investigating my presence. At night the jungle roared to life and became almost frightfully loud and close. In particular, one very near animal roared a criptic and alien sound all night. These turned out to be large jungle turkeys that loved to visit the Acaica trees outside my room.
To my great delight, in the morning a group of about 20 tiny capucha monkeys came swinging through the big trees. They stopped in other trees along the way to inefficiently grab berries and stuff them into their mouths. Of course, as they did this they often hung upside down from their feet and tails, prudently flashing their tiny faces towards my binoculars as they did so.
Just as enjoyable as hanging out at the jungle lodge was the work. We planted a rare tree species and reparied a primitive irrigation canal that ran along a steep jungle entagled mountain side. Because it was Christmas it was a long weekend and Thursday became Friday, which meant that we would go for a guided hike into the jungle.
Our guide Walter led us into a hidden path that ascended into a thick and entagled valley. The valley grew narrow and soon we were in the depths of a spectacular canyon. Walking alongide and at times right inside the small creek we ventured up the narrow passage that periodically had waterfalls spilling into it. Here I found towering tree ferns, a legacy of the Carboniferous era when 50ft tall ferns once occupied the world´s forest niche. This was before gymnosperms and angiosperms had evolved and these tree ferns have only persisted an a limited few regions of the world.
Everybody was travelling somewhere for the long weekend and I had the choice of staying there myself and exploring or visiting somewhere nearby. I decided to go to Canoa on the coast. This turned out to be a very good decision. The bus trip was about seven hours, though, only cost $7. I arrived late and this was okay because the town was quite safe and easy to navigate. I found a hostel on the beach for $6 a night and then went for a late night ceviche. I waited nearly an hour for the restaurant owner to prepare my meal but I was in no rush. I had a large beer and patiently admired the tranquil street scene from my seat. it even felt good to wait so long for my meal. I knew I had time.
