CHAPTER 20
After nervously passing a handful of police checkpoints, that were real police checkpoints and not road blocks set up by the guerrillas which we had been warned about, we successfully reached the border with Ecuador. It was our first border crossing on the southern continent, and considering the trouble we had entering Colombia, we were expecting the worst. However, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the exit procedures from Colombia did not take more than a matter of minutes. We then drove across a bridge over a deep ravine that separates the two countries, and our entrance into Ecuador was cake. We finished all of the paper work for both ourselves and our truck without ever having to wait in a line, pay a “processing fee”, or turn down any slimy border cops in search of a bribe- all very opposite from the border crossing routine we had become accustomed to in Central America.
We headed into the Northern Highlands of Ecuador in search of a bomba, gas station, before reaching our final destination for the day, Otavalo. We were trying to leave Colombia without any extra pesos, so we didn’t restock the empty wallet before heading into Ecuador, where they spend the US Dollar. Because of this we let the gas tank dip below the halfway mark, which we never do, and thought we would fill up once we crossed the border. This turned out to be a lot more difficult than we had anticipated. We whizzed by the first bomba due to the long line of cars waiting to fill up, and told ourselves that there will be another one up the road. We stopped at the next one we saw where the line of cars was non-existent. We high-fived one another because we thought we had outsmarted the locals by avoiding the long wait, but our spirits were quickly crushed by the attendant who informed us that the station was dry. What we had originally felt as a need for a full tank was now turning into desperation for a few gallons so that we could reach Otavalo before nightfall. We forged on to the next bomba where we were sure this one would be it. But, we were again disappointed when the attendant told us that he could not fill our tank, this time the reason being was because of our foreign plates. Apparently there was a law prohibiting foreigners from buying gasoline on certain days of the month. Was this guy serious? He knew we weren’t from around here and if he didn’t just bend the rules a bit we would be stuck on the side of the road in the Ecuatorian countryside before we knew it. We expressed these concerns to him, but he didn’t budge, and instead assured us that there was another bomba up the road. Luckily for us he was right and we putted into the station on what little fumes we had left. We saw the same sign about not serving foreign plates but we hoped that this guy would not be such a stick in the mud about the rules. Victory!!! He gave us 5 dollars worth, enough to make it to Otavalo. The only reason we could come up with for the crazy gas rationing, was that because of the drastic difference in price between Colombia and Ecuador, Colombians would drive across the border to fill up their tanks for a third of the price that they would pay in their own country. The Ecuatorians grew tired of the constant influx in gas thirsty Colombians in their country so they implemented a lengthy list of rules prohibiting gas to be sold to foreigners on certain days. In Otavalo we checked into a quaint family run hotel where we asked the father what the deal was about the gasoline, and he told us not to worry, “just today, but tomorrow will be normal”. We let the issue rest for the time being and devoured a giant pizza for dinner.
Otavalo is known throughout the north for their famous markets. Local Artisans set up their booths on Plaza de Ponchos daily, and on Saturday the entire village dedicates the day to buying and selling of their specified trade. Dave and I first witnessed the market on a Wednesday, where we found every square inch of Plaza de Ponchos filled with jewelry, clothes, bags, and souvenirs for sale, though we noticed it was catered more toward tourists than locals. We bought a few noteworthy souvenirs, but also knew that we would return soon with Kathy, Dave’s mom, so we saved some of our shopping to do with her.
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