Last Weekend in Canoa Parte I

First weekend trip to the coast! Nine others and me went to Canoa, a coast town I think Chris' Quito brother or our spanish professor Jorge suggested. I am going back there again! You won't understand why based on this first share. There were some issues...but worth it overall. Let me start from el principio:
So at 8:30 Friday eve we all met at our school and took a cab to the bus station del sur (in the south of the city), an hour ride, for $8. Our bus was scheduled to leave at 10:30 but I don't think we did until 11:30 or so. The station was crazy. Including the buses. Swarms of people everywhere. In between the buses. Competitions between a bus trying to pull out and a bus trying to drive through. Some men's actual jobs were directing the buses, or in other words standing outside of the bus and signaling when it absolutely must surrender and break, or it would hit another. Numerous almost hits, including people. It was pretty amusing actually; a moving maze of buses, like in HP & Goblet of Fire, with all the passengers as the wizards moving through frantically, trying to find their bus/goblet of fire. We were naive to think that our bus would be at puerta 20, sitting on a curb waiting for about 20 minutes, as we arrived early. A mangy but tame dog kept us company.
After Chris, who is from Mexico and speaks spanish perfectly, talked to someone 5 times, we figured out that we had to enter the dangerous smokey bus maze carrying our stuffed back packs. We waited and darted in between the smog, until we saw our bus to Jama drive into the station 30 minutes later. Chris' mother warned him to check the tires of our bus to see if they were very smooth, because they don't like to change the tires. And she warned him to smell the busdriver, as many drink and drive. While in the maze, he actually spotted Rum in one driver's seat. After he pointed this out I think Jess said, "That makes me worry a bit about our bus". And I think Nicole responded, "But not enough to make me not take it." We are fearless youngins. Or naive Americans. Now, just as the bus drove on the ramp to enter the station, everyone waiting for Jama ran zig-zagging to the bus to board it. It never made a parking spot, before everyone was aboard and the bus left. I remember in Spain when I took a bus from Granada to Malaga, the bus driver pulled over half way there, called another bus to come meet us, made us wait and then transfer buses, all because he smelled rubber. Last Friday was a bus station adventure unique to this part of the world.
The bus ride was through the night. The plan was to sleep on the bus but the ride was too bumpy and curvy, with the humidity consistently more and more intense until we all felt sticky all over by the fourth hour. We winded down the Andes. And the lights kept on going on for 60 seconds every hour or so, perhaps because the bus driver felt better keeping us awake, since he had to. I think we all slept for 3-4 hours, at the end of the trip after passing the bumpy curvy mountains. We were woken up by the even brighter lights coming and staying on. We all exclaimed, "!Buenos dias!" and joked how well-rested we felt. We arrived in Jama at 5am, a small (smelly) fish town, where we waited to catch another 45 minute bus to Canoa for $0.35. After we peed a block away from the stop, and found many huge grey frogs, we learned that the bus driver was offering to take people all the way to Canoa for $1.50. We took the offer.
We arrived in Canoa finally around 6am. At that time it did not look promising or what we expected. We found our hostel, the owner calling everyone "mi amor" or "mi vida". But we soon learned that our two rooms of which we were told hold 6 people each, only had three beds in each room, and one bed was wet. We chilled there for a bit, deciding whether to stay or try to find another place (it was almost impossible getting reservations anywhere becuase it was the weekend of the national festival Carnaval) and choosing sleeping buddies. After Chris complained about how the women was dishonest with him on the phone when he made the reservations, she asked us to leave if we didn't know whether we were going to stay the whole weekend. So we strolled around the town at just before dawn, asking around, spotting a few more stranded cringos. We finally found a decent enought place, with almost enough beds for everyone. There were clean sheets, a curtain for the bathroom door and toilet paper!! That was impressive. And we had a balcony with chairs. After we dumped our things, we found the beach; right at the end of the street. My explanation up to here sounds rather horrid, but I swear the whole arrival was rather fun.
When we saw the beach, we knew all had been worth it and that the weekend will be amazing. It's one of the best beaches I've ever been to, and I've been to many up and down the entire east coast of the US, one on the Mediterranean, and a few in Brasil. The waves were a surfer's dream; a variance of stong and soft, tall and shallow ones, ones that rode forever and ones that broke and immediately disapeared. And the water stays shallow for meters. It's temperature was perfect; refreshing. It was slightly cool when you step into it, then warms to perfection in 10 seconds. There were shimmering large white shells, and soft sand that sinks when one steps. The beach went on to the south practically forever; perfect for long walks. Sandstone cliffs topped with green grass and trees halted it to the north. The first time we checked out the playa, we danced in the water, hugged and giggled.