Ken at Tumbes Airport, Peru
Hellfire at the Border
Despite all the information imparted about the wonderful places to visit in Ecuador during the hour-long conversation of the previous day, I could not change my plans, and I had to head to the bus station for the next phase of my trip, the ride from Quito to Tumbes in Peru. My shoes were still soaked, so for the first time on my trip I had to depend exclusively on a pair of imitation crocs, but what the heck, I was going to be on a bus for the foreseeable future, followed by a plane ride, so I could let my shoes dry up overnight. This was to be another long haul trip, totaling nearly 14 hours to the border with Peru, then another 4 hours to Tumbes. The trip itself went quite smoothly, as far as the border. My long-sleeved sweatshirt, covered by my hoodie, and that covered once again by my jacket, and inside all of that a t-shirt, kept me nice and cozy during the long night, and the restaurants along the way were actually quite good, and I was definitely getting better at ordering food. Then came the border crossing. Much as I had feared the crossing into Venezuela, this crossing was about to give the Venezuelan system a run for its money. Arriving at some ungodly hour in the night, all passengers were expected to get off the bus, line up, and wait. The building housed the immigration authorities for both Ecuador and Peru, and there was another busload of passengers ahead of us.
Colourful old city of Quito, Ecuador
The Paper Shuffle…
After standing in line for 30 minutes, there had been very little movement, and I was still somewhere in the lineup outside the office area where the paperwork was being processed. Another half hour, and I had finally made it to the interior of the building and witnessed just exactly what was going on. Two officials sat behind a counter. I will try to draw a word picture for you. Two officials behind 1 counter. 150 passengers lined up and waiting. One official to type in all the information provided on the exit forms by the passengers (information of near biblical length), then the shuffle of the paper and passport and any other documents, to the second official who then read the documents, compared the documents to what had been typed into the computer system, then stamped the passport, then proceeded to hand the entire stack of things back to the passenger. Entire process length: about 5 minutes per passenger. And that was just to get stamped OUT of Ecuador, not including the entry into Peru. I started calculating: 5 x …. oh let’s see, count the people in front of me… 1, 2, 3, …. 20,….35. Holy ……! 35 x 5 = 175 minutes!!!! Oh S…! 3 hours. Quick calculation – 5 am, plus 3 hours, = 8 am, plus 4 hours to airport, = noon. Plane departs at 12. 35 no, no, no, no, this could not be happening….
Ornate interior of the main chapel of the Church of St. Francis
The Explosion…
Apparently someone else felt exactly the same way, the bus conductor from the busload of passengers ahead of me, and he started pushing and shoving and made his way to the front where he erupted in a tirade against the official. As I watched this onslaught, I caught the changing colours on the face of the official being harangued, and realized that there was serious trouble brewing. The thunderstorm that broke loose a few moments later was of hellish proportions, and if god is a woman, this is exactly what hell fire and brimstone raining down on sinners will look like. Withered and shrivelled to a mere piece of overcooked meat, the bus conductor slithered back outside. And god went to take a break. A damn long one – the sins of the fathers will be visited on their children and their children’s children – in this case, the sin of the bus conductor was being visited on his passengers and the passengers after them. Nearly 15 minutes later, god reappeared, freshly powdered, lipstick freshly applied, and the fiery anger had left her eyes.
Independence Square, Quito
The Aftermath
There was a collective intake of breath as she settled back down behind her desk. The tension was palpable, as we all feared what might come next. There was a call for any remaining passengers from the bus ahead of us to get in line, quickly, in front. A few stragglers lined up. After them, it would be the turn of passengers from my bus. She looked at these last few remaining passengers as though she thought they were miscreants. Sternly she reached out her hand for the first person’s papers. We waited. But our collective breath was expelled in a burst of happiness when she sweetly called up the next person. We were surprised; happy of course, but surprised. She had processed the paperwork in less than 2 minutes. Still, the burst of speed started to slow again, but at least the pace was much better than the previous 5 minutes per passenger. By 7 am I had my papers in hand, and was moving through the entry line to Peru, having officially left Ecuador behind me as I crossed the line painted on the floor in the immigration office.
