Sylvie and I just returned from a trip up the coast to Esmeraldas, the beautifully green, African influenced part of northwestern
From there, we hopped on an overnight bus to Esmeraldas. After a bus ride and waiting at an exhaust–filled intersection for 45 minutes we broke down and caught a cab to the Cumulinche Club, an absolutely beautiful property with a private beach on the
On the way back from Esmeraldas we woke up at 5:30 in the morning because our bus had stopped. Due to the rain, the road, not concrete, was soft and muddy. There were a few buses and trucks stuck ahead of us. One bus had mud covering the entire metallic part of its wheels. The depressed faces of its passengers as we passed by, made me sad with empathy and glad our bus driver had avoided a similar fate. By 7:30 am we were moving again. So, the ride to Manta only took 11 hours or so. Then, after another 4 hour ride, we were back home. Sylvie was exhausted. I felt great. Plus, I had read about half of this really good book recommended by our friend Michael. Reading The Saddest Pleasure by Moritz Thomsen while traveling around
The trip as a whole was cathartic. It marks the end of our time here on the coast. It marks effectively, the end of our business. It marks the beginning of our future back home in the States, and the eventual birth of our baby God willing. It was a trip about transition. I don’t remember having a trip before that was about something other than the trip itself. I suppose they all were on some level, but usually a trip is mostly about the places you’ll see, things you’ll do and the food you’ll eat. This trip was about finding something new that I want to do. It was about saying goodbye to a part of my life. It was about realizing the decisions that I had made without knowing. So, it was also about acceptance and gladness for what is to come. The trip was a preoccupation while we figured out the next part of our lives. Who knew? I thought it was just about finally going up the coast.