Ecuador

The argument had escalated. Lucy intervened and tried to calm everyone down. That seemed to make
Bruce madder. Suddenly he let out a string of profanity and picked up a chair and threw it into the window.
That’s about where Bill came in.
Bruce finally had enough sense to shut up.
Maynard said they were going to be on their way as they were having trouble with the Volvo and needed a mechanic. They would try to find us in Quito.
Bill went up to the counter and gave all the passports and paper work to the official. The man picked them up and started to go through them. He looked through the passports and after hesitating a minute asked, “Did you ever play soccer?”
“What,” replied Bill?
“Your name is familiar. Did you ever play soccer for Argentina?
“Yes, I played for awhile, several years ago.”  Suddenly the conversation turned to soccer and games that the men both remembered. As they were talking the papers were being completed and stamped.
“Everything is okay,” he said as he handed everything back to Bill. “The papers are only good for three days then you must leave the country.”
“Three days?” that won’t work. We can’t drive that fast and we need to stop in Quito for a couple of days.”
“Well they can be renewed in Quito at this place.” He said as he handed Bill a map.
“Oh yes, one more thing. You have to have a guard ride with you to the border and you have to feed him, bed him and give him $8 per day.”  Bill was adamant that this would not happen. He finally said the guard could come but he would have to ride on the roof.  When the dust settled none of us had a guard. 
“Can I do anything to help the other guy? He has been traveling with us and I know he has to be in Peru in a couple of days,” inquired Bill. The man shrugged but went over and spoke to the official working with Bruce.  In a few minutes he came back smiling.
“It is okay now,” he said. “Everything has been worked out. He will have to go to the office in Quito though.”
Maynard and Frenchie had already left for Quito by the time Bill came back to the motorhome.
“What took so long?” I wanted to know.
“You’ll never believe what Bruce did,” He said laughing and proceeded to tell me the story. “We were lucky the guy helping me was a soccer fan and he recognized my name from when I played.  At least it smoothed things up for us.”

The soccer van and Klaus were just pulling up. They did not make it in time to cross that day.
We drove the few blocks into Tulcan and parked right next to a pretty plaza. We would spend the night there as it was too late to make it to Quito. We started the task of repacking the trailer and motorhome.  First thing to go was the cooler. After working for awhile we all wanted to have a meal. At the end of the plaza was a Chinese restaurant. We cleaned up and headed over there.  We could watch the motorhome and trailer from the windows.  We all found something on the menu that we would eat and placed our order.  As we were eating John reached for a little cup on the table it looked like it contained soy sauce. He took it and poured it over his rice.
Ugh! - it wasn’t soy sauce it was espresso!  What a face he made. He claimed it made him sick all night.
Back to the motorhome, Bill, John Mc and Randy would take shifts during the night watching the stuff on the trailer.  In the morning we would finish repacking before taking off.
Off and on through the night someone would come up to the window on the door and try to look in. It was covered with reflective film so they couldn’t see any thing, but they kept trying. Of course we had drapes over the rest of the windows.
Saturday morning when we were straightening up we attracted quite a crowd. Everyone wanted to look inside. They were amazed that we had running water, a refrigerator, oven and a bathroom.  They would ask then look in the windows or open door.
“Oh, cocina, um bano!”  Some even wanted their pictures taken with it and us.
We were the first motorhome to make the trip from Panama driving the Pan American Highway. Other trucks with campers had done it but no motorhomes. People all along the way were fascinated by it.
About noon we were ready to leave for Quito.
What a beautiful and interesting country. First we went through the lower desert then started to climb the mountains where the scenery got green again.
As we were driving along we came to another “Oh my God!” bridge. Again it was wooden but it had wooden braces up the side and over the top. The problem was a few pieces of the wood from the road part were missing. Bill pulled over and stopped. “Are you sure we’re on the right road?” he asked.
“It’s the only road on the map,” I answered. “We’ve been following it since Tulcan.”
“Boy, I don’t know. It doesn’t look like it will hold us.”
Then from the other direction came a big truck he pulled right on it and crossed. Of course he tipped from side to side as his tires hit the places with no road.
“Okay, here goes.” And we pulled out. First the right tire dropped in a hole, the sides of the motorhome almost rubbing the sides of the bridge. Then the left tire dropped. “I can see the water out my window,” exclaimed Bill.  We continued over, tipping as we hit holes, but we made it.
The boys sat very still and did not make a sound.  We all let out a collective sigh of relief when we were on the road again.
One sight we will never forget. An old multicolored bus in front of us stopped in the road to let off passengers. We had to pull up and wait behind him.  A couple got off and the man turned back to the bus to help his son push a great big pig off. And I do mean a GREAT BIG PIG.
We passed through several small towns that lined the highway. Sometimes it was hard to tell if the buildings were houses or little businesses.  Saw women sitting out in front weaving baskets, wish we could have stopped and watched or bought one. We did stop at one bakery though and got some delicious fresh baked rolls.
We reached the border around noon. Got our papers stamped out of Colombia and into a “No-Mans” land where we waited until 2:30 for a guard to accompany us to Tulcan, Ecuador where the customs stuff was done. 
As we pulled up to the customs building we noticed that the blue Volvo and Bruce’s van were still there.
I handed the passports and all the paperwork to Bill as he went out the door.   “I’ll call you if you need to come in,” he said as he left.
He trotted up to the building, opened the door and came to an abrupt halt.
Inside the customs office was chaos. A window was broken.  A chair lay on the floor below it.  Maynard and Frenchie were standing off to one side with concerned looks on their faces as they spoke in whispers to each other. Bruce had turned in to THE UGLY AMERICAN!  Everyone looked up as Bill opened the door. He glanced around wondering what the heck had happened Bruce was leaning over the counter. He and an official were inches apart having a very loud discussion. Bill edge up to Maynard to find out what was going on. 
Maynard explained as much as he knew. He and Frenchie were almost done with all the paperwork when Bruce arrived. For some reason his paperwork wasn’t complete or was filled in incorrectly and he was told he would have to go back into Colombia to get it straightened out. The only bureaucrat who could do it was about 50 miles back. Bruce went ballistic. He wanted to get to Quito that day so he wouldn’t lose any more time. If he had to go back he wouldn’t be able to cross the border until after the weekend.