Crossing to Ecuador

August 28 – 29, 2024.

“Estoy borracho,” said the Ecuadorian man. If he had said, “Soy borracho,” we might have thought Borracho was his name. But no. He meant that he was inebriated. To put any doubts to rest, he held out his drink and looked over it to size us up. Beer sloshed around in the wobbling glass.

But we’ll get back to his story in a bit. And even though all the dialogue in this post happened in Spanish, I’ll report it in English.

In Duwan’s last post, we were in a cab, leaving the grim border town of Ipiales, Colombia. We’d just had a chat with a neighbor, and we were talking with the driver. I was feeling pretty good about my Spanish skills.

We were heading for the border with Ecuador. Here, the Río Chiquito has cut a deep gorge that separates the two countries. Each country has offices for customs and immigration. We planned to check out of Colombia and walk across the bridge to check in to Ecuador.

As we approached the office building, the driver asked, “Other side?”. Assuming he meant the entrance for immigration, I said, “Yes”. Oops! He drove us across the bridge into Ecuador. We got him to take us back, then followed through on our original plan.

After we cleared in, we needed another cab. Our destination was a few hours away in Otavalo. First, we needed to taxi to a bus station.

There were a lot of taxis. But a man approached us and was insistent that we take his friend’s cab. We did.
In a couple of minutes, we were zooming down a smooth four-lane highway, with a median! Even though the driver was listening to some motivational tape, the experience was very refreshing after our rough travel through southern Colombia. We settled in for a 20-minute ride to the station. We never made it.

Suddenly, the driver started honking his horn. He yelled, “Your bus!” We tried telling him it was OK, we’d catch the next one at the station. But he wasn’t having it. He crossed the median. He pulled up behind the bus, which, of course, had stopped for us.

The bus was very nice, with comfortable seats, a bathroom, and TV screens. Soon, we arrived at our first stop. A policeman walked through, ignoring the locals and focusing on us and another passenger.

Immediately, a woman in front of us stood up and began a very loud speech. She was selling cannabis ointments for health. She offered some free samples. Finally, she left, taking another bus.

The movie was “Retribution” (in Spanish) with Liam Neeson. Since most of the dialogue consisted of short commands, we could understand a lot. And of course, at each stop, vendors walked around the bus with sweets, bread, fruit, and drinks.

We finally arrived in Otavalo. We took another taxi to our Airbnb. We met the owner. We took the keys. We were home!

The next day, we explored the city. It’s known for having a huge outdoor market. In the afternoon, Duwan looked online and found a nice restaurant/bar with craft beers. But what we found on arrival was very different.

The bar was under construction. There was no restaurant. There was a family seated in a corner. Behind the bar were two men: a distinguished-looking gentleman and El Borracho.

Turns out Borracho was the owner. The other man joined the family. Borracho offered us a beer. Actually, a taste out of his glass.

“No thanks, we’d like to try the dark beer.”

“Aha! Racists!”

After a lot of back and forth, he finally drew us a pitcher of dark beer and casually poured himself a glass out of it. We stayed and talked for a good while. He said he had traveled all over the southwestern US, selling crafts with his mother. She was over on the corner. “Hi Mom”.

More pleasant chatting until we asked how he felt about the weather up north. He jumped up and down and swore until we assured his family that all was OK. And as we were leaving, he said he was pretty sure that we were spies!

Welcome to Ecuador!