MOMPICHE 2012 the beach of the Argentines

MOMPICHE 2012 the beach of the ArgentinesAfter visiting the dispensaries, Máxima got to know the main communities in charge of her. The most famous was Mompiche, a beach that his father said was the best beach he knew when he traveled the coast from Bahia, in 1974, when he took a ranchera, which ran along the beach between San Vicente and Cojimíes because the roads were summer, this is dirt, with any rain they became muddy, in which the vehicles were trapped. He told him that even when he left San Vicente, the first part was on a summer road, in which the station wagon got stuck and since he was the passenger that the driver charged him for only half the ticket, he had to work for hours together with the driver's assistant, to unearth the station wagon, finally with the help of the passengers who were pushing it, they got out of the quagmire.

After crossing the Chamanga Estuary from Cojimíes to Daule, she began a walk through pastures. The peasants told her to follow a path that seemed endless until she reached a town called Bolivar, where there was the most modern sub-center of the Ministry of Health of all the places she had known on the coast. It had been built by the mayor of Muisne, who owned all the land around the town.

She found a house where they gave her an inn, and the next day, the news was that a cargo ship that made the trips from Cojimíes to Manta, had run aground, was loaded with bottles of whiskey and more contraband.

The residents went to help, but the ship was abandoned, that day the people drank whiskey like never before, and with a white powder, which they did not know what it was, they made the lines of the soccer field.

In the house where they put him up, the boys used the white powder as talcum powder for their feet and armpits, until the owners of the shipment appeared, armed to the teeth to claim for the whiskey and its powder, which had been cocaine. At that time cocaine was not illegal neither in Ecuador nor in the United States, they brought it from Bolivia, to take it to California by sea, it was consumed by the soldiers of Vietnam, or the rich like the actors, without any problem.

The next day he arrived at a beach full of palm trees, it was Portete, an island where the first free blacks from South America had arrived, who escaped from a boat that took them to Lima, today there were almost none, only Don's ranch house. Buche, the mayor of Muisne, was the richest man in the canton.

He crossed a small estuary with calm waters and climbed a mountain, with bloody diarrhea, which robbed him of all strength, and on the other side, he saw the most beautiful cove on the entire coast, with a fishing sailboat in the center, then, a huge beach of palm trees, that when the tide went down, there were holes of transparent water, which gave it the name of Las Manchas.

Going down a mud road, where the cattle walked, there was a zebu cow that watched as her calf was being swallowed by a marshy hole in which she had fallen, she had only the tip of her nose in the air. Without hesitating a minute, she put down the backpack, extended her arm from the edge to reach the calf's ear, and once he had it, he pulled it out of her. Then he carried the small animal that could not stand up to a town called Mompiche, where a river flowed gently to the beach, next to the house of the landowner, owner of the calf, who had a shop, where he gave it a cola and cookies. After resting for about two hours he prepared to continue.

"Wait young man" Don Buche can take you in his jeep, "the calf owner told him.

In a red Willys without a hood, from World War II, they raced down Muisne Beach at low tide.

But that town with the landlord's house, a little school, and a few houses in Mompiche had changed. On that hill that he crossed before seeing the cove, it was now a Decameron resort, with hundreds of rooms, numerous houses, extreme luxury, tourists who came from all over the world, dozens of employees who came from Muisne in buses, who picked them up in the morning and left them in the afternoon. In town, hotels were everywhere, surfers were jumping waves, while on the beach foreigners, mostly young Argentines, were the attraction of micro drug traffickers, mostly black or mulatto, who painted their hair. They wore flashy necklaces, they presented themselves as the Latin Creole protectors or lovers, essentially to the gringas, since the Argentines were not very attracted to them, but they sought them out because of drugs. The sub-center of the Ministry of Health, in the town, did not have a permanent doctor, Bolivar's doctor came during the week, there were restaurants, hotels, and a very diversified offer, it was a very green tropical tourist paradise.