REFLECTIONS ON NEW YORK

So now, Joe's frantic escape from Rocia and Banos leads to a familiar despair.

About three weeks have passed since I’ve returned from Banos to Quito. I’m sitting here in my bed at Hostel Loro Verde, listening to the old Perry Como song -
And I Love You So’.
For the 20th time in a row.
In case you’re not familiar with Perry Como, or the song’s lyrics, they go like this:
"Yes I know how lonely life can be
The shadows follow me
And the night won’t set me free"
Ok, you get the picture right? This is where my head is at now.
Fuckin’ lonely as hell.
Brutal.
Traveling solo is just, like, a whole other level of loneliness, man. I poached the Perry Como CD from my father’s music collection before I left. A momentary smile comes to my face when I think of my father searching all over the house for it.
“Somebody swiped my goddamn Perry Como CD, for crying out loud! Who the hell would do something like that…I know, I bet it was that goddamn idiot… dollars to donuts he brought it with him to Ecuador!”
My poor father. Hahaha…
I can’t help but laugh at the scenario, which gives me momentary relief as I gulp down another swallow of Pilsener from the bottle. This is about my fourth pint bottle. Pilsener is the Ecuadorian national beer - and surprisingly good. It actually has a bite, which, swear to God - shocks me. I mean, a South American beer?
C’mon.
I pick up the letter I’ve been reading for the third time. It’s from Rocia in Banos. Got the letter yesterday. Written in broken English phrases, then back to Spanish, forcing me to consult my Spanish-English dictionary every two minutes to try and figure out what she’s saying.
In essence, she is saying that she loved our time together, that I’m the most interesting person she has ever met - and that she can’t wait to get together again. Sigh… of course I’m the most interesting person she’s ever met - she’s 19!
God, I mean, she’s a great girl - pretty, sweet, and intelligent - but this is like a major conflict for me. I know I gotta pull the trigger on something. Something. I mean, that’s one of the main reasons I came to Ecuador in the first place - to reinvent myself.
Really, maybe I should just take on one of these Colombian prostitutes around here. They’re constantly accosting me when I venture out to one of the nearby chifas for dinner. What are chifas? Chinese-Spanish restaurants. The Chinese are everywhere. Anyway, maybe I should just get it over with, y’know? Take the fucking’ plunge already.
These hookers are all over the place - and that’s because this area is known as ‘Gringolandia’.
Meaning that there are a bunch of backpacker hostels.
That means gringos.
And gringos = money. At least in the view of everyone around here.
Especially the ‘rubios’, which means ‘blonde’ in Spanish - and the rubios are usually German. Like the Chinese, the Germans are everywhere. Whenever I’m eating at one of the chifas, there’s almost always a group of Germans sitting next to me - and they always get charged more.
The ‘gringo especiale’.
Thank God I’m dark and can easily pass for Latino. More importantly, I can roll my rrr’s, which gives me a huge advantage over the poor Germans. Again, thank God for my Sicilian heritage.
Now, in any case, these Colombian hookers are fuckin’ caliente, man! Yet, I still have this gut tearing conflict about… paying for sex. Like, what am I, some desperate 75 year old loser on his last leg?
Shit.
Plus, my other major conflict is even more insomnia provoking. Probably half of the hookers are transgender, and I mean, that’s cool and all, but that's a whole Pandora’s Box (so to speak) that I’m just not ready to deal with at this point. Combine that with this on again-off again guilt about not really checking out the ESL (teaching English) scene - and you understand the madness