Chapter 55
Which describes the adventure of the speakeasy, as well as other matters
I was up early for bike maintenance. Gunther had a chain breaker with him, but was hitting the road, so I wanted to get my bike cleaned up and my chains cut before he left. Yoshita looked like new after the wash she got. $3 got it cleaner than its been since I’ve owned it. Three guys hit it with a degreaser mist, then a pressure washer, than hand wash, then wax, then armor-all type stuff. It took about 30 minutes, and the bike came out beautiful. I gave each of the guys an extra buck and we were all happy.
Back at the hotel courtyard, Gunther was packing up but was happy to hang out and help break my chain. His trusty tool got my old chain off, but when we went to cut 3 links off the new chain (to get it to size) his chain breaker broke, instead of my chain (I guess the DID Gold chains really are tough!). We spent some time trying to finish what we started with the other tools we were carrying, but with no luck. I bid Gunther farewell (and said sorry about his tool!) and hit the street with chain in hand.
I asked around for a moto mechanic, but settled for a refrigerator mechanic. He had a big hammer and a chisel. With a little finesse, we had it off. I gave him a dollar, again, everybody happy. I got the chain on in no time, and headed off next to get the new Metzler Tourances that Keith was kind enough to bring mounted. I had to pull the wheels off in the street which was a bit tricky without a center stand, but was able to get it done. The “Vulcanizador” put the new rubber on the rims for $8. Getting the rear wheel back on was a bit tricky, but with some help from my new friends, I was on the road with new rubber in no time.
It is election weekend in Ecuador, and like Nicaragua, no alcohol allowed. Reminiscent of the US Prohibition, people don’t stop drinking, they just sneak. For example, the vulcanizador offered me a beer, and when I said, “I thought there was no drinking this weekend” the shhhh’d me and hid the booze.
We headed off to Gloria’s to meet Adam. We caught up in the comfort of her living room enjoying his stories from Columbia. I planned on finishing the bike maintenance out of the rain in Gloria’s garage (still need to change the air filter, spark plugs, and brake pads) but hunger got the better of us and we went back to Cafetto for another delicious lunch on Keith (thanks Keith, AGAIN!). Since its my birthday tomorrow, I let him pay.
The day slipped away from us and we were back at the hotel to freshen up before heading to “Turtle Head Pub” a bar run by a Scottsman-motorcyclist who Adam met online and, despite local legislation, was open tonight. A real speakeasy! We couldn’t miss that… even though it was hard to get out of the hotel as it was across town and the rain was coming down pretty hard. The taxi dropped us at the intersection we had for the Turtle Head. The street was dark, and felt dangerous. Nothing was open, nothing lite. We walked around a block in each direction and asked passerbyes if they knew of the location of this bar. A security guard said he did, mentioned that it and all bars were closed tonight and it was two blocks in the wrong direction. I can say that, because we eventually found the place. It was completely dark from the outside, with a guard standing behind a locked gate. He let us in, and inside, by candlelight, was an honest to goodness british pub, full of English speaking customers. The owner, Albert, was reviewing a map of south America with adam on the pool table. He welcomed us, and told us abit about roads and routes in Ecuador and Peru. We ordered beers and fish and chips and felt like we were anywhere but South America.
A guy in his early 20s, by the name of “Kale” approached our table and offered to buy us a pitcher. We were all surprised, as none of us knew this guy, and immediately were suspicious. He seemed harmless however, so we let him go ahead and join us. I figured he was just lonely and excited to see other Americans (as the other English speakers in the bar were brits, aussies, etc). Turns out he works at the US Embassy in Administration. Interesting… oh wait, when Keith asked what he did, he said “Security.” Hmmm… more suspicious. Lets make sure he drinks from this pitcher we thought. We were getting nervous when he came back with glasses, and a bottle of beer for himself. !??!?!? Shortly there after, he invited over a friend of his, name I don’t recall, American, who worked in the oil fields here. He was covered in tattoos (we could see them on his wrists under his long sleeve). He made the girls uncomfortable. Adam and I were interviewing these two trying to see what there interest in us was and where this was going to lead. I got the feeling the were harmless, but amie wasn’t convinced. We soon left, but not before the age old debate regarding garlic vs. cheese was brought up by adam. The premise is simple, which would you give up, if you had to give up one? Would you rather give up Garlic? Or cheese? For me its simple, garlic is great, but cannot compete with variety and versatility of cheese. Adam has his mind made up just as easily in the other direction, believing garlic is a cornerstone in cooking and would give up all cheese before garlic. Well, the two suspects thought this a very interesting conversation and got quite involved and vocal. Kale, the dimwit of the two, took some time to grasp the discussion, but quickly put his own spin on it: Turkey or Bread??
Laughing all the way to old town at the situation and conversation, we wondered what the beer they bought us was spiked with (date rape drug?) . It was about midnight, and everyone said happy birthday. Old town was dead, but I was very happy we had Gloria give us the tour. From her car, we drove the historic city center which was bathed in light and was more Europe than latin America. It was really something, and I was shocked we had been here so long and not seen it. A really beautiful city.
I was up early for bike maintenance. Gunther had a chain breaker with him, but was hitting the road, so I wanted to get my bike cleaned up and my chains cut before he left. Yoshita looked like new after the wash she got. $3 got it cleaner than its been since I’ve owned it. Three guys hit it with a degreaser mist, then a pressure washer, than hand wash, then wax, then armor-all type stuff. It took about 30 minutes, and the bike came out beautiful. I gave each of the guys an extra buck and we were all happy.
Back at the hotel courtyard, Gunther was packing up but was happy to hang out and help break my chain. His trusty tool got my old chain off, but when we went to cut 3 links off the new chain (to get it to size) his chain breaker broke, instead of my chain (I guess the DID Gold chains really are tough!). We spent some time trying to finish what we started with the other tools we were carrying, but with no luck. I bid Gunther farewell (and said sorry about his tool!) and hit the street with chain in hand.
I asked around for a moto mechanic, but settled for a refrigerator mechanic. He had a big hammer and a chisel. With a little finesse, we had it off. I gave him a dollar, again, everybody happy. I got the chain on in no time, and headed off next to get the new Metzler Tourances that Keith was kind enough to bring mounted. I had to pull the wheels off in the street which was a bit tricky without a center stand, but was able to get it done. The “Vulcanizador” put the new rubber on the rims for $8. Getting the rear wheel back on was a bit tricky, but with some help from my new friends, I was on the road with new rubber in no time.
It is election weekend in Ecuador, and like Nicaragua, no alcohol allowed. Reminiscent of the US Prohibition, people don’t stop drinking, they just sneak. For example, the vulcanizador offered me a beer, and when I said, “I thought there was no drinking this weekend” the shhhh’d me and hid the booze.
We headed off to Gloria’s to meet Adam. We caught up in the comfort of her living room enjoying his stories from Columbia. I planned on finishing the bike maintenance out of the rain in Gloria’s garage (still need to change the air filter, spark plugs, and brake pads) but hunger got the better of us and we went back to Cafetto for another delicious lunch on Keith (thanks Keith, AGAIN!). Since its my birthday tomorrow, I let him pay.
The day slipped away from us and we were back at the hotel to freshen up before heading to “Turtle Head Pub” a bar run by a Scottsman-motorcyclist who Adam met online and, despite local legislation, was open tonight. A real speakeasy! We couldn’t miss that… even though it was hard to get out of the hotel as it was across town and the rain was coming down pretty hard. The taxi dropped us at the intersection we had for the Turtle Head. The street was dark, and felt dangerous. Nothing was open, nothing lite. We walked around a block in each direction and asked passerbyes if they knew of the location of this bar. A security guard said he did, mentioned that it and all bars were closed tonight and it was two blocks in the wrong direction. I can say that, because we eventually found the place. It was completely dark from the outside, with a guard standing behind a locked gate. He let us in, and inside, by candlelight, was an honest to goodness british pub, full of English speaking customers. The owner, Albert, was reviewing a map of south America with adam on the pool table. He welcomed us, and told us abit about roads and routes in Ecuador and Peru. We ordered beers and fish and chips and felt like we were anywhere but South America.
A guy in his early 20s, by the name of “Kale” approached our table and offered to buy us a pitcher. We were all surprised, as none of us knew this guy, and immediately were suspicious. He seemed harmless however, so we let him go ahead and join us. I figured he was just lonely and excited to see other Americans (as the other English speakers in the bar were brits, aussies, etc). Turns out he works at the US Embassy in Administration. Interesting… oh wait, when Keith asked what he did, he said “Security.” Hmmm… more suspicious. Lets make sure he drinks from this pitcher we thought. We were getting nervous when he came back with glasses, and a bottle of beer for himself. !??!?!? Shortly there after, he invited over a friend of his, name I don’t recall, American, who worked in the oil fields here. He was covered in tattoos (we could see them on his wrists under his long sleeve). He made the girls uncomfortable. Adam and I were interviewing these two trying to see what there interest in us was and where this was going to lead. I got the feeling the were harmless, but amie wasn’t convinced. We soon left, but not before the age old debate regarding garlic vs. cheese was brought up by adam. The premise is simple, which would you give up, if you had to give up one? Would you rather give up Garlic? Or cheese? For me its simple, garlic is great, but cannot compete with variety and versatility of cheese. Adam has his mind made up just as easily in the other direction, believing garlic is a cornerstone in cooking and would give up all cheese before garlic. Well, the two suspects thought this a very interesting conversation and got quite involved and vocal. Kale, the dimwit of the two, took some time to grasp the discussion, but quickly put his own spin on it: Turkey or Bread??
Laughing all the way to old town at the situation and conversation, we wondered what the beer they bought us was spiked with (date rape drug?) . It was about midnight, and everyone said happy birthday. Old town was dead, but I was very happy we had Gloria give us the tour. From her car, we drove the historic city center which was bathed in light and was more Europe than latin America. It was really something, and I was shocked we had been here so long and not seen it. A really beautiful city.
All shined up!
Reviewing the route with the Scotsman
An interesting encounter at the Speakeasy
Are we in South America??
Candlelite speakeasy
Old Town Quito
Queso
Iglesia Grande
posted by Pedro and Maria at 11:15 AM
1 Comments:
turkey or bread! chepe
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