Last Things, First.....or....

....the best laid plans.
When starting this blog we had the best of intentions to do a daily "diary" of our travel experiences.
As frequently happens, "life" often gets in the way of even the best of intentions and such was (obviously) the case here.
Consider it an "excuse" if you must, or a set of "reasons" why, but hopefully the explanations might shed some light for others considering pursuing a similar course in the future.
First, and probably most importantly, it was simply a case of not enough hours in a day. In the nearly 5 weeks we spent in EC I can only recall two days that we actually did "nothing" - just sit on the beach and relax. Every other day we were "on the road", sightseeing, doing the "touristy" things tourists do, meeting and spending time with our "new best friends", searching for properties, or adding to the couple thousand kilometers we piled on the rental car.
Most days we returned to the beach house late, having spent 10 to 12 hours out and dog tired. Posting to the blog while things were still fresh in our minds seemed like a very good idea. Doing it "manana" seemed like an even better idea.
While a typical blog page might take you 5 or 6 minutes to read it takes much longer to create. Writing the text is fairly straight forward, editing and proof reading take time though. Selecting photos, resizing, and positioning them within the blog always seems to take much longer than one would expect. Uploading the post, especially when it includes a number of photos can really be time consuming with a "sketchy" internet connection and ours at the beach brought back memories of 28.8k dial up of years gone by. Back then connection rates were still being measured in "baud" and 3200 baud or 28.8k was the theoretical top speed under "ideal" conditions. Actual download speeds were often in the single digits or low teens. Upload speeds often only 10% of download. Our connection at the beach house was via a USB GSM modem connected to mobile broadband and the result a perfect impersonation of 3200 baud! Throw in a large dose of "works when it feels like it" and frequent disconnects and you get an idea of the level of frustration.
So, where do we go from here?
In the coming days and weeks we'll post what we wish we had posted each day as it happened - a day at a time and (hopefully) in chronological order. But for the moment, here's a little recap of the last day of our journey.
After a whirlwind final week where we left the beach house and drove to Guayaquil, spent one night there then on to Cuenca for two nights, Banos de Aqua Santa for one night, and finally back to Quito for our last night and final ride to the airport for the trip home.
We returned to where we began - the wonderful (and HIGHLY recommended) AndinoHotel
Miguel, his wife, and the entire Andino staff have become "family" and couldn't possibly have provided a more welcoming atmosphere. There was simply no question in our minds where we would spend our final night or where we would advise anyone visiting Quito to stay.
Precisely on time at 3:45 am, our other "new best friend" in Quito - Patricio, arrived to take us from the Andino to the Aeropuerto - a 15-20 minute jaunt at this hour with streets almost totally deserted. After the final "goodbyes", "adiose's", hugs, and kisses, Patricio disappeared into the night and we were on our own.
Due to the "partner" relationship between Copa Airlines and Continental online boarding passes weren't available and the Copa agent could only issue passes for our first two legs. The final leg from Orlando to Newark was on Continental and we would have to obtain those passes either in Panama City or Orlando. The bags, however, would be checked through to Newark but we would have to pick them up at Orlando to clear customs then return them for the final leg to Newark. Sounds like more than ample opportunity for  a "screw up" and pretty close to a guarantee that something would go wrong. Oh well.....cross that bridge when we get to it.
Clearing the Ecuadorian version of TSA and Imigration went as well as could be expected and once again, Copa was wonderful in providing Mom with a wheelchair and transporting her to the gate waiting area. Despite an almost two hour wait before boarding, the Copa guy sat with us and waited until it was time for her to board.
About a half an hour before our departure time with the waiting area filling up there comes an announcement (all in Spanish of course) which includes a list of names, one of which is "Marilyn V.....". Not understanding the rest of the announcement we followed the lead of the others called and proceeded to the desk. The one word we did understand was "Policia" - this couldn't be good! After explaining to the other (Spanish speaking) passengers what was going on, the agent attempted to explain it to us. Unfortunately, her English was pretty much on the same level as our Spanish. What we got was that she was to follow the man downstairs to where the Policia were going to inspect her bag. Huh???....Why me???
"Ees OK" exclaims the gate agent, noting the sense of panic which must have been painfully obvious on our faces.
Marilyn and the other 5 or 6 passengers selected follow the security guy through a door clearly off limits to "regular folk".
Boarding for wheelchair passengers commences followed by calls for "rows 20-25"..."10-20"...and "all passengers". The waiting area is empty.....still no Marilyn.....
"Pointing to my watch, attempting to communicate the impending "crisis" developing in my mind, the gate agent again remarks "Ees OK......No problemo"
"No Problemo"??? - you've got to be kidding!!!
What if she's not back in time and the plane takes off.
Mom is already aboard, I have one foot on the plane and the other in the waiting area....will they let Mom back off? What if they don't? What if somebody stuck something in Marilyn's bag and she's in trouble? What if...what if....?
Finally, with literally a minute or two to spare before departure, she appears and we board.
If you've ever seen "The Look" on Mrs. V's face, you know better than to press the issue until she's ready to talk about it and clearly, NOW was not the time. It takes a lot to instill the level of fear which was painfully obvious on her face and which she later admitted was the worst she had experienced in her life.
Recounting the experience was difficult but went something like this:
"We were led through the catacombs, dimly lit corridors, down three flights of "utility" stairs to the belly, the "dungeon", out onto the tarmack in the cold and dark where the baggage handlers transferred luggage, and the Policia had 10 or 12 bags lined up and a couple of fold up tables hastily assembled in a haphazard manner.
One by one they instructed each passenger to select his/her luggage and bring it to the table for inspection. Picked it up, dumped it out, and went through each and every item then stuffing it all back in and releasing the bag and sending the passenger back upstairs.
Last in line and witnessing the process unfold did nothing to calm the fears. Indeed, given the amount of time it was taking with each person and the rapidly approaching departure time, the realization that even if all went well with the "search" there was a very real possibility of not getting back to the plane in time.
Much the same as my fears of someone having stuck something in the bag, so too did that thought feed the rapidly ascending fear level.
Finally the moment arrives and she is instructed to select her bags.
She does and attempts to place it on the table as the others had done.
"NO, NO"!!!! shouts the Policia, and points to the ground shouting something in Spanish, which apparently meant, "leave it there".
She does and the Officer calls in the dogs (literally!).....
Her bags passed - someone else's didn't - (we have no clue how that ended)
Then it's on to the table, dump it out and employ the fine tooth comb.
Stuff it all back in and instruct her to "Go, go"
"Go"???    Go where???   How do I get back to the gate after being led down here by someone who actually knows where he's going.
The Polica points to a door at the top of the first level of open metal stairs.
Back at the level of the departure gate with moments to spare....except....
How ever I got there left one small problem.....I'm back outside the "secure" section of the airport and must go back through security AGAIN!!!
Finally....she appears at the gate and we board the plane as the door slams behind us and pushes back before we're seated.
Close enough??

By that standard, whatever happens on the remaining two legs can't possibly compare and, for the most part didn't.
Our seats, in the very last row didn't recline because they were up against the rear bulkhead and it was, of course, the longest possible walk for Mom but hey....we're on our way.
A little under two hours later we arrive in Panama for a couple hour layover and time to get seats changed to something a little less uncomfortable. No Problemo....two in row 21 and one in 17.
Sitting at the gate with another plane getting ready to board prior to ours arriving and suddenly a small army of private security people springs into action setting up folding tables, cordoning off two "rows", and directing passengers to proceed through an "at the gate", second, TSA type search. They go through each piece of carry on luggage, shoes, jackets, etc, and they fold up their tables, take down the rope corridors and disappear as quickly as they appeared. Just a "random" spot check, or maybe some specific threat? Will they do it again when we board? Do they do every gate? (No) Just not our day?
Apparently not since, sure enough, time for us to board and they return to set up their circus act and search, search, search.

This is really getting old.
We board and switch boarding passes to put Mom in 17.
Shortly after takeoff another "mini crisis" as the flight attendant announces my name and realizes we've switched passes. Row 17 is an emergency exit row, Mom is 87 years old, and......well you can guess the rest.
Three hours later we arrive in Orlando.....back in the USA!!!
Back in the USA means clearing customs which must be done at the first point of entry, which means we have to claim our bags, carry them through customs, then return them to baggage for the trip home. Amazingly, the process went ok.
But, after completing the process we find ourselves on the "wrong" side of the TSA search again (due to some construction going on) and, with no boarding passes since they couldn't be issued by Copa in Quito.
As the old saying goes....when life gives you lemons......
Trot off to the Continental ticket counter and the agent committed the cardinal sin of asking me "How's your day going?"
After the poor guy got an ear full he spent about 15 minutes pounding the keys of his computer and at the end of the process produced three boarding passes and the admonition that "you'll like these seats much better than the ones that were in there - have a nice day!"

Rows 2 and 3 - FIRST CLASS!!! - 

Now THIS is the ONLY way to travel!

45 minute gate hold - probably related to the nonsense going on regarding funding of the FAA (which we were totally unaware of at the time) but at this point, who cares?
Yes, I'll have another vodka tonic (with lime, and gratis), oh, and another red wine please. Tell the pilot to take his time....we're in no real rush.
About the same time we departed Orlando, our friend Anthony leaves Selkirk driving to pick us up at Newark.
We arrive, get our luggage (and it's ALL there!!), walk out the door and he's there. Twenty three hours after we awoke in Quito, we arrive home safely. Thanks Anthony!!!

The moral of the story revolves around the one BIG mistake we made in planning and preparing for our "exploratory" first trip to Ecuador. We had done over a year of research and most of the decisions we made (even those that flew in the face of the "conventional wisdom") we would probably make the same way again. The BIG mistake was not spending the time to acquire at least a "beginner" level of the Spanish language. Here again, we had all good intentions but let "life" get in the way and didn't devote the time necessary.
We were somewhat surprised at the small number of Ecuadorians that speak or understand English. Outside the large cities it's not uncommon to find only one or two "locals" in an entire village with even a rudimentary level of English. We, of course, have no "right" to expect them speak English and an obligation to learn their language. We should have done so prior to going. We can't advise others strongly enough to do so.
Being able to converse, even if only at a  basic level, will enhance the experience more than one can imagine just in the normal day to day encounters of your trip.
Not having at least that basic level of comprehension, and finding yourself in a situation like Mrs. V did, will convince you in a heartbeat.