As promised, at 5:30 AM, the taxi was there waiting for us and after bidding “adios” to Wilmer at Casa Montalvo, it whisked us away to the van depot to start our very long day of travel to the Ecuadorian coast. The van ride to Guayaquil was about 3.5 hours and wasn’t terrible except for the part where I was sitting next to Typhoid Mary who coughed incessantly the entire ride. So persistently in fact that at one point, I texted Scott, who was sitting in the front seat of the van, and told him that I was sitting next to “Patient Zero¹.”

Aside from that, this leg was uneventful and it was fun to catch a glimpse of the Cajas National Park area as we drove through, and we eventually reached the van depot in Guayaquil. Wilmer had told us that the van would take us to the bus terminal but the van driver had other ideas and seemed to think that the van depot was good enough, so after a little discussion and back and forth via Google Translate, we were able to cajole him into getting us to the Guayaquil airport which was at least purported to be quite close to the Guayaquil bus terminal. It was quite close, but the first taxi driver we encountered was super scammy and we promptly got out of his taxi after refusing to agree to the $6 fare he was going to charge us to go the 0.5 km from the airport to the bus terminal.

The policewoman who was in charge of checking passports at the entrance of the Guayaquil airport must have felt bad for us as she observed what was going on, and helpfully connected us to a more reputable taxi driver who delivered us the rest of the short distance for a more reasonable fare. Finally we were at the bus terminal. We knew to be cautious in Guayaquil so we kept our heads on a swivel as we found the right bus operator to purchase tickets for our leg to Puerto Lopez. We laughed at the bus line’s name: Jipijapa². It is funny sounding both with the english pronunciation as well as en espanol (Hippy-hoppa).

The bus line employee had made it sound like we needed to hustle to catch the bus, but it turned into a case of “hurry up and wait” instead, and we had to cool our heels for a bit in the exhaust-fume filled bus terminal while we kept our eyes peeled for our Jipijapa bus. Eventually it arrived and after handing off our luggage so that it could be stored in the hold below, we boarded and found our seats.

This bus ride was similar to the one we had taken from Baños to Cuenca, minus the lovely views of the Andes and the frequent bathroom stops. While we did stop often to pick up/offload passengers, I cannot recall a single stop that was long enough for a bathroom break and I am glad that I limited my liquid consumption that day. Better to be dehydrated, rather than the alternative while on a long haul bus ride I suppose. Eventually we dug into our boxed lunches that Wilmer had sent us with and enjoyed empanadas, chips, bananas, and a little juice box each.

The only other remarkable thing about this bus ride was that at one point when a vendor boarded the bus peddling his banana bread, we said “yes” to his sales pitch for pan de banana and soon found ourselves the proud owners of a huge loaf for $3. It was delicious and we must have munched on it for 3-4 days, so it was well worth it. We kept referring to it as our “bus bread.”

Eventually we made it to the Puerto Lopez bus terminal and once off the bus found a tuk-tuk driver that would take us to the seaside Hosteria Mandala where we would be spending the last few days of our trip. We arrived, checked in, and were shown to our small bungalow which was adorable and was just a short walk from the beach. Each of the bungalows had an aquatic animal themed name and ours was the Pulpo, spanish for octopus. They handed us the key which was attached to an awkwardly and comically huge octopus shaped wooden keychain and told us to let them know if we needed anything.

I had emailed the property a few days prior to inquire about the current state of affairs in Puerto Lopez… aka, how safe was it to come after the recent cartel violence? They assured us that everything was fine and that we should not change our plans. (But really, what would they say?)

We had decided to end our trip with a beach town, much like we had in Thailand; a vacation from our vacation in a way. An island 20 miles off the coast of Puerto Lopez, Isla de la Plata, is commonly referred to as the Poor-man’s Galapagos, and we were planning a trip there in a few days. It has much of the same birdlife as some of the islands in the Galapagos archipelago, most notably, the famous blue-footed boobies, and serves as a more accessible and wildly more affordable alternative to the famous islands. Scott would be able to dive right around the island and the next day we would take a trip to it for hiking and a chance to see the tropical seabirds with the funny name.

We changed into our bathing suits and headed down to investigate the beach. This stretch of shoreline that this part of Puerto Lopez and our hotel sat on reminded me of Koh Lanta in Thailand, with the curve of the shore and the mountains book-ending each side of the cove. We walked for a bit and enjoyed seeing the various humpback whale sculptures, placards, and displays- Puerto Lopez is located in the ideal spot for watching them during their migration season (June to October) and the area serves as a nursery for them where they come to birth their calves. Unfortunately we were out of this season so there would be no whale watching for us.

After we got our fill of the beach for the afternoon we made our way back to the hotel pool. We eventually headed back to the bungalow and changed. Our plan was to pop back onto the beach to catch the sunset before making our way into town to see what our dinner options were. The sunset was lovely and we watched nearly the whole waning-of-light show from an abandoned fishing boat beached on the sand before continuing into town. A few blocks down from our hotel was the dive shop that Scott would be going out for a trip with the next day and we dropped by to say hello and touch base about his trip. While there I asked for dinner recommendations and they happily tossed out a few suggestions.

As we got closer into town the neon lights, noise level, and overall garishness increased and we were soon having to fend off overly enthusiastic restaurant barkers who energetically shoved their restaurant’s menu in our faces and spouted off the specials as we walked by. We would soon figure out that the tourism-dependent town was desperate for business since tourists were understandably staying away after the recent cartel shooting and retaliatory beheadings.

We soon found one of the recommended places, Carmita’s, and decided to give it a try. We were happy that there were no tacky neon lights and no loud bass thumping out of its building. We sat outside on the sidewalk and took in the sights as we ate a lovely meal. Scott was hooked on the fish after our Amazon trip, grilled this time, and I was happy with the coconut shrimp, which were broiled rather than fried as you normally see back home. Both came with savory fried plantain which was starting to grow on us. The server was attentive and he pointed out the restaurant’s owner and namesake, Carmita, another Ecuadorian abuela type, who was sitting with some friends nearby. We waved and indicated that we had found the meal to be quite enjoyable. The 15 minute walk back to the Hosteria Mandala was a perfect way to walk off the meal. We soon found ourselves back at the Pulpo and went to bed.