Yesterday I Erte strolling after lunch on the main street ß e to the garage, the exit of the buses. A gentleman appears to already be waiting for me. He says something I do not understand. Oddly, the word "Telephone" it before. I point to put on a bus to Guayaquil, assure him I h aett already have a ticket, and interpret, it's my backpack into the luggage äckfach. But he does not rest repeated "Telefono" and erg änzt "Venga!" ("Come!"). I follow him to the counter. He hands me the H örer through the glass. It is Maru, my "host" (as they say in Couchsurfng) in Guayaquil. She works in a Travel Agency Üröm, they determined the number of the bus stop and tells me she k Önner me now but from Terminal Terrestre Guayaquil . Pick So much for my assertion that I am here not reachable by phone. Actually, I had the 3 million-metropolis (gr ö SSTE city in Ecuador) want to skip, but I got so many nice invitations that I've thought about it differently .
Driving through the misty Andean gorges rise again school children in and out. Somewhere in a particularly dense fog, where the run is still winding and muddy as elsewhere, the bus will stop for ninety minutes. Stra ßenbauarbeiten, as it turns out. Daf ü r's me then a new specialties ät from Banana: pancakes Bananenteig, guided üllt with cheese.
The mountains are happening, the forest vegetation is into individual palms, giant ferns, and imperforated ä Sample the flavors of banana plantations, maize, pineapple and rice. Wildly romantic Baumh Aeus and Kleing Aerts, rust booths with D next car price from Palmbl aett, between dusty, bustling St AEDT morbidly charming. In passing, I learn that meat patties / burgers / tablets bull here, "Rambo" hei need. A gr o SSES glider narrowly slides over one of the endless banana fields. From the speakers penetrate Rumbakl ength. It swings. Behind the village is
Duran's about the split, miles wide on the river to Guayaquil Guaya r . The bus station is brand new and similar to the Berlin Hauptbahnhof, part of a oversized shopping mall. f instead ü five degrees, it has kept here in the evening thirty. Maru (31) brings me to their friends, Jorge and Juan from the car. She lives a few Km n orth. The property is Couch Surfing at its best: The entrance of the zweist öckigen apartment serves as K ITCHEN, living room and N ähstube. Maru living here with parents, younger brother and younger sister, whose husband and daughter. It sounded solemn tango melodies that come from a film classic k choose PREPAYMENT. I will in a while without closing ßbares (here is the T UR undoubtedly too small f ÜR the frame) , windowless, but at least quartered own room.
evening meal Maru, Juan, Jorge, the 31j year-old grandmother Mari (Ver h PREVENTION There seems to be only sporadically operated ) and I the middle of a dusty traffic island in the open air restaurant "Dolarazo" with grill and plastic tables. There are Africans with rice pig f ÜR the competitive price of $ 1.25. Then it's off to the Latinobar La Cabanita "loud in the city center. More people are added, whose name I do not understand. One tries to impress me with his knowledge of German: "Fu ßball", " goodbye," Heil Hitler ". There is the Indian-sounding Brazilian beer brand Brahma. We bring Juan to the bus station, in the Night Mezedhes still somewhere. for me is followed by a small circle . For the twentieth time, a group photo is taken. I close SSE eyes.
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