The Last 48 Hours

I have conquered the art of public Chicken Bus riding. I have navigated my way through tiny Mayan towns. I have survived Tegucigalpa. Yet Cancun, the child of Las Vegas and Orlando, the one place in Latin America that speaks more English than Spanish, took me down.

January 3, 2011

6 p.m.

I decide to get organized. After road-tripping for 2 weeks, everything I have is spread across 4 bags instead of the normal 2. (Note: The act of fitting everything combines both creativity and science, and is an art-form that only gets better with practice.)

I decide to take full advantage of the pool-side WIFI (thank you 21^st century).

I slip. In slow-motion only known in slap-stick comedies I step feet-first into the pool. Somehow during this graceful act I manage to keep both my laptop and the glass beer bottle above water.

I laughed. Then drank the beer.

7 p.m.

My computer won't turn on.

Robert disassembles the entire machine to let the moisture that splashed into the brain dry out.

I ask him if it will be OK. He honestly answers, I don't know.

I cry.

8 p.m.

Eat shrimp and rice (I actually started to miss it) and drink a large margarita.

12 a.m.

Eventually finish packing, stop worrying (kinda) and fall asleep.

January 4, 2011

3 a.m.

Wake up.

Robert screws the computer back together. It works! He tells me not to turn it on for a couple days to let it dry out a little.

I sigh, relieved.

4 a.m.

Arrive at Cancun airport. Discover that I am unable to board the plane to Quito.

Intermission to explain immigration laws:

• According to Ecuador's immigration laws, tourists cannot enter the country without proof that they will eventually leave. Apparently they don't want you chilin' there forever.

• A return ticket, or a bus ticket, is fine. As long as you have tangible proof that you will eventually leave. A ticket out of say, Buenos Aires will even do – because logically you must leave Ecuador in order to get to Argentina. The date is not important. (Of course if I was a bad person who wanted to stay in Ecuador to do bad things, I could obviously not afford to buy a meaningless ticket out of South America?)

• Because I am busing my way south I don't have a return ticket.. And because I don't know how long my money will last I don't have a plane ticket out of anywhere. Thus I am a problem child.

• While this is the law, Ecuador's immigration won't ever check. (Panama – where I flew to with only a 1-way ticket as well, has the same law and I had no problems.)

• The catch is that legally it is the airlines' responsibility to make sure I can enter Ecuador. Because in the 0.1% chance Ecuador denies me entry, the airline legally must fly me back to my point of departure on their dollar. Since I am not a resident of Mexico, Copa Air freaks out.

5 a.m.

I have 1 hour to find a ticket out of Ecuador.

I have a computer I am not supposed to turn on.

I turn it on.

I have 15 minutes of free internet.

I find nothing in 15 stressed minutes.

I cry. Just a little.

I return to the desk.

No sympathy. They suggest I try to buy a cheap plane ticket? But I have to do this over the phone.

I go to the pay phones to call COPA Air's 1-800 #. (Who knows what country the person I'm talking to is in...)

The cheapest ticket Copa can find me is $385.

Fail.

I return to the desk and say I need more time. What should I do?

Mind you this is all in Spanish.

They tell me I can get on the flight tomorrow. All of today's are full.

I say OK, please put me on the flight tomorrow.

I have to also do this over the phone. Of course, I should have known.

Success. $75 later.

6 a.m.

I am now in Cancun at least for another 36 hours.

I hold back tears.

I look for a taxi. They all cost at least $50 to get back to the hotel because it so early.

At this point, defeated, I sit on the sidewalk, don't even look for a curb.

The security guard takes sympathy on me and tells me he will find me a cheap taxi.

7 a.m.

$30 later (not cheap but don't care) I am back where I started the morning.

I cry really hard.

9 a.m. - 10:30 a.m.

Frantically research all possible bus lines that leave Ecuador in any direction.

Find a lot.

Find none that sell tickets online.

11:00 a.m. - 5 p.m.

Head into ugly, noisy, dirty downtown Cancun City. (No, the locals don't live in the Hyatt with bleached white towels.)

Find a travel agency. Explain my weird travel question. In Spanish. Margarita, my now dear friend, has never dealt with a travel agency in South America. Cool.

Book a ticket (that I will never use) over the phone that travels from Quito to a small border town in Peru for the 31^st of January (made up date). Will cost $40.

We email my passport information. I am instructed to wire the money to Peru via Western Union.

Go to one Western Union. Take 10 minutes to fill out the form. The service is broken. Come back later.

Go to another Western Union on the other side of town. (The bank is tucked in a warehouse that sells cellphones, cameras, dishwashers, and mattresses all at layaway prices.) The line is out the door.

Wire US $40. Western Union charges $18 service fee. Damnit.

I walk back to the market where I then divide my time between checking back with Margarita to see if my electronic ticket has been sent to her office yet and trying to ignore the many cat-calls by the young Mexicans selling hats, shot-glasses, and cheaply made wood carvings of Mayan temples.

The gentleman from Peru eventually emails my ticket to Margarita.

Drum roll...

It doesn't get me out of Ecuador!

Just to the border. But on the Ecuador side.

It's useless!

Exhausted, angry, annoyed, broke, and once again defeated I say OK, pay Margarita and leave.

5:30 p.m.

I enter my room and I am pleasantly surprised to find gorgeous flowers waiting for me.

(Later I find out not they were not left by Robert. So either they are the gift of a sketchy hotel attendant or a gift from above saying to calm down. I like to think it's the later, but checked the lock on the door 3 times before falling asleep.)

6 p.m.

Walk to the laundromat where an elderly 5'2” Mexican man greets me warmly, sees my face, and with very few words passed between us gives me a hug.

Exactly what I needed.

For the next hour I wait for the washer to stop, and then the dryer, and he busies himself ironing and folding his other clients clothing.

We talk, I vent.

He gives me another hug. Yay for friends.

8 p.m.

I indulge in the comforts of home: countless time spent on Facebook.

11 p.m.

Eat a hamburger. The only food I have touched all day because I was too angry at all the money that had just been wasted.

Sleep follows soon after.

January 5, 2011

11 a.m.

I put make-up on for the first time in weeks. Or months.

I brush my hair straight.

Perhaps if I look more like a sophisticated civilian and less like a homeless, confused cat-lady I will have more luck getting into Ecuador.

12:30 p.m.

Shit.

The man at the COPA Airlines counter is the same attendant from yesterday morning.

I freak out. And think about running away.

Then realize that would be stupid.

12:45 p.m.

Get courage to go to the counter.

“You look familiar,” he says.

Haha... I laugh.

He begins to check me in, scans my passport, and leaves the counter saying he'll return. There's a problem. Sigh.

When he comes back however he tells me I owe $110.

We argue. In Spanish.

I tell him that the lady yesterday told me $75 to change my flight and she should have told me about the additional costs as well.

He agrees. Then compliments my Spanish speaking. Where did I learn?

Good. Maybe he'll forget to ask about my ticket out.

I watch breathlessly as my boarding passes print. Then my bag claim sticker.

“How are you getting out?”

By bus. Here's my ticket all the way to Peru, I show him my sketchy printed receipt.

And...

IT WORKS!

3:45 p.m.

I am finally on a plane to Quito. $200 unnecessary dollars later.

I sit next to an Australian who went through the exact same thing. Damn you Mexico.

I'm never boarding a plane again.