The 40-mile trip "up the river" to Guayaquil, principal port of
Ecuador, was made in a Grace Line yacht, Santa Rosita, formerly a
submarine chaser powered by a General Motors diesel capable of 27
knots. She is fast. She has to be. The Guayas River is not only
fast but seems to cover about all outdoors hereabout. It takes
power to buck the river's current. And when the tide is running
out it takes still more power.
Guayaquil is a pretty rusty looking city to me. The population is
about 250,000. The rain had stopped before our arrival. The day
was cloudy, but it was very, very hot and humid nonetheless. The
town was full of pushcart and sidewalk salesmen, all sorts of
outdoor food sales and the ever-present Coca Cola. Our hats are
off to the Coca Cola people. Perhaps in only one or two places in
far south Chile were we without the jurisdiction of a "refreshing
pause."
Here were bananas and pineapples galore. A vendor would take an
18 to 20-inch pineapple by the stalk, pare off the outer shell
quite deftly, slice it crosswise, and sell it by the slice at the
end of a long sharp butcher knife. I don't know the price,
probably two slices for a cent. Foreigners are told to lay off
food here on the streets.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342