Midnight at the Oasis

"Heaven's holdin' a half-moon

Shinin' just for us"

Maria Muldaur

I managed to stay awake on our final flight from Miami to Guayaquil by watching the movie Runner Runner. Set in Costa Rica, I thought the Hispanic connection would be a good entertainment choice. A very clean cut Justin Timberlake joined Ben Affleck in his corrupt offshore gaming ring. Predictably it contains a tense airport scene, set in a grimy, dimly lit passport control with the obligatory Central American ceiling fans. The burly customs agent matched his green army uniform with immense black boots and Cuban dictator facial hair. Unsurprisingly, the concocted passport problemo manifests into a wide eyed Justin being dragged into a back room lit with a single bulb. The statutory wooden interrogation desk allows for appropriately intimidating fist slamming and is followed, of course, by the surprise discovery of a small packet of planted white powder in poor Justin's luggage.

' I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.' 

Joseph Conrad

Note to self, poor movie choice.  Then, as if to blow my stereotypical worries right out of the Aeropuerto, Guayaquil welcomed us with a beautiful arrivals hall.  Even at 11.30pm the marble floor shone with hospitality and mirrored the modern polished glass and metal interior.  The long passport line moved efficiently forward with a ping and change of electronic number on the large screen suspended from the roof.  As we shuffled further I craned to see from 1 to 36, row upon row of Stepford Ecuadorian custom ladies.  Each one dressed in a dapper navy skirt and jacket with hair pulled back in beaded combs.  Not a Cuban dictator look alike in sight.  Number 8 pinged and it was our turn to approach the fast typing entry guardians.  

I had hoped the line would be long so we would 'enter' in after midnight thus giving us an extra day on the 90 day visa.  With that self fulfilling prophecy of doom we finally shambled through to the luggage carousel in time to watch the porters chain up their large luggage trolleys for the night.  Luckily my repetitive psychotic emailing to the Hilton had paid off and my warning of mucho luggage meant my amigo (sporting a board with my ever so welcome name upon it) spotted us before I saw him.  After 21 hours of traveling I searched for the kind of sophisticated,  sentence Ben had just used to command attention and squeaked out "Ola".  

"Did you ever notice that the first piece of luggage on the carousel never belongs to anyone?"

Erma Bombeck

We stepped out of the frigid sanctuary of the airport concourse into the humid sultriness and the tropical Ecuadorian night wrapped tightly around my overdressed form.  After living for 6 months with no rain, the moisture in the balmy breeze was a velvet caress that only a desert dweller can understand.  We sweated and cursed at the ridiculous amount of bags and boards we stacked into the bus.  All the while, the Gods of Ecuador's midnight oasis smiled benignly down upon us.  

“The best protection for the people is not necessarily to believe everything people tell them”

Demosthenes

I was overjoyed to see the protection investigation team was parked out front of the Hilton, but my attention was soon diverted to the patrolman wearing what I would describe as a Falujah flak jacket.  As I sweetly told the man behind the reception "Buenos nachos" and confined in him that I was "moi caliente" (I'm a real hottie), he politely raised one eyebrow and checked us in. 

This was the first time I would see the flag of Ecuador, the yellow stripe represents the crops and fertile soil, the blue stripe the ocean and the red the blood spilled by heroes.  My weary eyes struggled to make out the coat of arms in the middle of the ensign as we rode the glass elevator high above the flagpoles, up to our room.

"Bubba and Junior were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking up. A woman walked by and asked what they were doing. "We're supposed to find the height of the flagpole," said Bubba, "but we don't have a ladder." The woman took a wrench from her purse, loosened a few bolts, and laid the pole down. Then she took a tape measure from her pocket, took a measurement and announced, "Eighteen feet, six inches," and walked away. Junior shook his head and laughed. "Ain't that just like a dumb blonde! We ask for the height, and she gives us the length!"