key players

Don Cherry, Puerto Lopez - This bumbling Ecuadorian tour guide took $90 from us to visit Isla de la Plata. The transaction took about an hour, because he showed me a map and proceeded to tell me (in Spanish) about every region of his country. That night, he came to dinner at our hostal and regailed us with stories about crazy half-naked European women on his boat. When his son left to go to bed, he stayed and hung out with us and told Tori he has a son who´s an engineer and speaks perfect English.
In Puerto Lopez, there´s one photo used everywhere to advertise whale watching and it is Don Chery´s tour. It wasn´t season, but we were psyched nonetheless. The next morning two teenage girls in matching school uniforms came to our bungalow to lead us to the boat. When we got to the water, the children of the corn bid us farewell. On the boat, we were the only ones who were not French. Don Cherry was nowhere to be found. That night, he came back to the hostal and asked us why we were sleeping on the beach two mornings ago. We asked him where he was all day, but we unable to uncover a reason through his slurry, rapid Spanish, so we just let it go and chalked his absense up to the fact that he probably did something way more interesting that we may someday hear about from Tori´s future father-in-law over a spaghetti and tunafish dinner made by somebody´s grandma.

Ingrid, Rio de Janeiro - This middle-aged South African woman was a staple in our hostal. She wore her pink string bikini all the time and smoked a million cigarettes, waiting for the 25-year-old Argentinian who would get her high and take her dancing. When he did, all she could do was stand on the balcony and smoke more cigarettes.

Every male tour guide, continental South America - Luis, Adan and about 7 Javiers always ask us to dance salsa with them later that night. We went once and have since learned our lesson.

The owner of the first hostal we stayed in, Sao Paulo - Nicest man ever who just opened the place 3 weeks prior to our stay. He let us do laundry for free and gave us pastries made by his mom. We´re very lucky to have this perfect image of him before throngs of ungrateful travelers with dirty feet wear him down little by little.

Cafe owner, Guayaquil - This beret-wearing whack-job kissed by bare legs repeatedly and also tied a red string around my ankle. I think he also tried to set me up with his daughter, who wanted nothing to do with me. He danced around the room, stopping every so often at our bar seats to thank us for coming and to please visit him again. If I ever return to Guayaquil, I most certainly will.

Mr. & Mrs. Hostal, universal - These are the backpacker types. They are usually Austrailian and there´s something about them that´s not quite right. They look at us funny when we shower and put on makeup. Uniform is navy blue striped cargo pants with an elastic waistband and birkenstocks.

Andres, Puerto Lopez - This is embarassing. He is 19. Tori and I shared a not-so-innocent crush on him. We talk about him daily and when we look back on photos, he looks 19. But in person, he was so much more.

Remi, Puerto Lopez - Best bartender ever. Impressive artist as well. He gave us ginormous beers for $1, 50 cents off the normal price. He made us necklaces out of seaglass and recycled cans and said things like, ¨I do not have e-mail, so when I think of you I will know that you are thinking of me.¨ Possibly my future boss.

Chicken lady, Quito - ¨We would like breakfast, what do you have?¨¨For breakfast today, we have chicken.¨¨Chicken?¨¨No.¨10 minutes later she shows up with chicken, while the table next to us gets eggs and fresh juice.