Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova (46 page)

That
night I met a girl named Gabrielle off the Couchsurfing website, and we went for a few drinks.

We
found a place where you could get two caiperinhas cocktails for four dollars. The date game worked and I kissed her big lips, but she was very shy and a really bad kisser. I didn’t see something happening that night but went for a walk with her anyway. I was holding her hand, ready to do the spin-move when we suddenly ran into the two American girls. I’m not sure if they saw me holding her hand but I could see that they were not pleased to see me with another girl. That screwed up my chance with Casey that night, and they left the next day. I still have contact with them sometimes on Facebook, though. Gabrielle went home around 10:30 at night and I went home also.

The
next day I went sightseeing around the city a bit and in the evening I met a cute Colombian girl for drinks. She worked in Quito as a dentist and I saw it as my chance to get the Colombian flag. I went to the same place I had brought Gabrielle, downed some caiperinhas with her and had a fun conversation with her. That night I swore that I would always use my (coffee) date techniques from that moment on. She ate up my questions like candy and it worked perfectly.

We
met two girlfriends of hers in a fancy bar, had some drinks on her and went to a club called Bungalow 6. I soon found out that the no-drinking rule was only for restaurants and not for clubs. They were pouring drinks all night. We danced a bit, took some pictures and her friends went home but I convinced the Colombian hottie to stay a bit more. I kissed her soft beautiful lips on the dance floor, but she left later on.

I
couldn’t get a second date with her and felt that I maybe escalated too fast with her. It was my first but not last contact with the famous Colombian flakiness I had read about. Ecuadorian girls are no stranger to flaking either, judging by the twelve girls I had met online and agreed to meet, only two of whom actually went out with me.

Every
night I went out, either to club Bungalow 6 or Club Nobar. Going out is dirt cheap in Quito, on weekends you only pay five dollars to get in and a beer or rum-and-coke is included in the price. The only slow day is Monday, but the rest of the week it’s no problem to find girls to dance or talk with.

I
missed out with a drunken Israeli girl. I talked to her a bit and probably could have flagged her if I pushed a bit harder, but my eye fell on an Ecuadorian girl who was way more exotic-looking. I bounced from Nobar to Bungalow 6 with her and did some dancing there. We tried to dance salsa but I completely sucked. Her style was very different and I hadn’t practiced any salsa in the last weeks. Besides, that girl was a total gold digger and I let her go.

Another
night I met a super tall and skinny black girl. She had a hot body with a big round booty, I approached her and found out she only spoke Spanish. I manned up and tried the worst Spanish ever to pick her up, but didn’t succeed. Every time I went in for the kiss she turned her cheek or forehead towards me. I laughed in her face and remembered the Spanish word for grandma. I said something like “Por que no beso por sus labias? tu eres mi abuela?” This terrible grammar translates to something like “why not kiss your lips? You are my grandma?” This made her laugh and from this moment on I’ve used this line every time a girl gives me the cheek turn. She kept fighting my kisses off the whole night but kept close to me and grinding her big round booty on me all night.

After
a bounce to another bar and multiple tries to get the tall black girl back to my room I just said I wanted to leave and said goodbye. She was not happy with it and I think surprised at my reaction. Over the next week we said hi when we ran into each other but never danced or talked again. I’m still not sure what her thoughts about me were. She wasn’t leeching drinks of me or anything.

Scoring
girls in nightclubs wasn’t easy and perhaps this was because every night the clubs were full of foreigners. There were too many options for girls and they might choose some beta idiot over me because the beta idiot would keep the drinks coming all night. Ecuador is very cheap but it was still easy to smash forty dollars if you buy girls drinks all night.

At
the end of a fruitless night I met a woman named Lupe who only spoke Spanish, which made it hard to communicate. Because it was the end of the night and she was quite flirty I asked her if she was a prostitute and she became very angry with me. I still managed to take her back to my place, which was a two-dollar taxi ride away. We had a drink at my room and I started kissing her. She was shy at first but once we were banging she turned wilder and wilder. When we banged in the morning she almost ripped the skin of my back. I guess it had been a while for her too. She had to work the next day and left her email and phone number in the morning, but I never called her again. I had too many dates set up or other nightly options.

I
went for a long walk to the old center that day and even climbed to the giant Virgin Mary statue at the top of the hill. It was possible to take a taxi there but then I’d be like any other tourist, and anyway, I wanted to save that taxi money and see something of the neighborhood build on the hills.

The
climb was pretty steep, with lots of steps and some deep pits at the parts where construction work was still being done. I won’t recommend doing this after dark but during the day it should be OK. By the time this book goes to print, the new concrete steps will probably be ready.

One
of my last nights out I met a Canadian guy who wanted to tag along with me. He and I ran into four girls on a night out, along with some German guys. (They are everywhere.) At the end of the night we were standing on the street looking for another place to go out. The police had closed down a bar known for illegal after-hour parties, and I told my companions about the illegal liquor shop. We went over and bought some rum there. We all went back to one of the girls’ apartment, except one girl who went off with the Canadian guy. I was a bit jealous about this because she was quite pretty and he was a shy guy. That girl later came back to the apartment when I was cuddling a bit with the girl owning the apartment. The other two girls were sisters and were making out with the German guys, who spoke reasonable Spanish. The girl I was with didn’t want to kiss and it looked like I was the only one not getting some.

The
German guys went home and the four girls offered me to stay and do something with them the next day. What? Was I getting friend-zoned here? It sure seemed like it.

If
I wanted to stay I had to sleep on the couch while the four girls slept in the only bedroom. I asked if the girl I was with would stay with me on the couch and she answered no. “Then I’m going back home,” I said, and walked back to my hotel room at eight in the morning.

The
fact that I was friend-zoned was obvious when they asked me to go out with them again. I went with the four girls and two kids to a pizza restaurant and we had a good dinner there. The two oldest girls were around thirty and both had children from previous relationships.

Afterwards
the kids went home to a nanny and the four girls and I went to Bungalow 6. If I couldn’t score one of them, at least I had massive pre selection walking around with four girls. I felt out the situation with three of the girls but not the one from the night before. The two of us almost didn’t speak that night.

The
younger of the two sisters barely spoke English, but when I showed her my pictures on the phone I could make myself clear with my bits of Spanish.

We
cuddled up a bit and I showed her pictures of my round-the-world trip so far. In-between all the pictures of me doing cool stuff were some pictures of me with girls. I tried to make it seem like I didn’t want her to see them and she got all excited and punched my arm and said “Show me!” I would sigh and say okay to it. She was falling right into my DHV trap.

Afterwards
she didn’t leave my side and the five of us went dancing in Nobar. The tall black girl saw me come in with four girls and so did the hot gold digger.
Right back at ya
, I thought. The youngest sister and I danced all night to the reggeaton beats.

T
his twenty-two year old girl had so much energy that I could barely keep up. We kissed all the time while I touched her all over her body.

At the end of the night I tried to get her back to my place but of course the other girls wouldn’t let her leave with me. I went home DIH, dick in hand.

I
had gone out almost every night and only pulled one local woman who had seen better days in the mirror. Still, I loved Quito and will probably return here the next time I’m travelling.

In
my nine days in Quito I had not taken any extra private Spanish or salsa lessons as I planned to do. I had done quite some of writing for my Dutch website and translated some stories into English. The Adderal tablets Cassie had given me worked miracles and I had never been so focused in my life.

I
also had a major email battle with Lilly, the girl I was with for two weeks in Bali/Indonesia. She had found out about my site and threatened me with lawsuits and having my website taken down if I didn’t remove her pictures. The fact that her face was completely blurred out and she had her clothes on didn’t seem to matter, and she stirred up so much drama it was almost an email bombardment. She said she would get someone to take my whole site down, and since she had some money and might actually manage to do it I finally caved in and removed the pictures. She said goodbye to me with some religious stuff like “my hope and prayers will be with you”, and broke contact forever. Well almost forever. I got an “I miss you” email many months later.

Colombia – Cali

The trip to Colombia went well. I had heard horror stories about the border between Ecuador and Colombia. It was supposed to be crawling with FARC terrorists, paramilitary gangs and corrupt cops. A young English student I met on the bus to the border told me he had done this ride before, from Colombia to Ecuador, and got robbed at seven in the evening.

John
was ganged up on by eight or nine guys and they told him his papers were not in order. He was all alone there and got scared, which doesn’t surprise me. I would be too. He paid twenty dollars to get out of the situation and I think he was lucky to get away with such a small bride.

The
two of us stayed in a hotel at the border town, and the next morning we crossed the border to Colombia without too much hassle and continued our trip. John and I sat in the front of the bus and behind us sat a mom and her daughter. The mom kept smiling at me. I tried to talk to them a bit to kill time on this twelve-hour ride and found out they only spoke Spanish, but it was easy to find out that her name was Juliana. The daughter was only sixteen years old and the mom looked like she was about thirty-six. A MILF, so to say. She kept touching my hair and liked it because it was blond.

The
scenery of Colombia was great. We saw lots of green hills, a few mountains and lots of poor but seemingly happy people along the road and the villages. Juliana’s daughter gave me a small bracelet, just like the one Evita had given me in Lima. I often thought about her and was looking forward to seeing her again. After a long ride we finally got off the bus. Juliana invited me to her house, but I wasn’t planning on going there with my backpack, laptop and passport. It was still Cali, one of South America’s most dangerous cities. We agreed to meet the next day.

As with
Argentina I had read horror stories about Colombian women. They were supposed to be beautiful but very flaky and the gringo factor had already died out. Foreigners actually had a bad name now because of all the whoremongers who visit Colombia to bang hookers or take girls on fancy dinners and/or spoiling them with lots of presents which is almost the same in my humble opinion. In both cases you basically pay for sex. Guys like this spoil the goodies for people like me. It’s getting harder and harder to find places where old foreigners or loser guys haven’t spoiled local girls by making them think all “whities” from western countries are dumb guys who throw around money and buy their girls. There are still exotic places where being a foreigner gives you high status, but that world is getting smaller by the day.

The
owner of the hostel was a Danish guy who had married an average-looking Colombian girl. There were a couple of older guys in the hostel, one 70-year-old English guy with rude and quite racist humor and a skinny American guy in his fifties. The American had lived in Mexico for a long time and spoke good Spanish. As soon as he found out that I was hunting for poon, he started following me around like a dog. Probably trying to get some action himself. Both were telling me to move to Medellin, where the hottest girls were. I had only time for one city in Colombia so I focused on Cali. Both of them oldies had a screw loose and talked about weed and booze quite a few times. I hope I don’t end up like them when I’m old. The American and his Spanish skills helped me out with buying a Sim card and sending a text to Juliana. She replied immediately by calling me, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying and handed the phone over to the American who arranged a date with Juliana for me.

I
was going to meet her at night at a corner of the main street, where there were a few bars. That night I waited for her and wondered how I was going to succeed with only Spanish. She showed up twenty minutes late, with her daughter and another girlfriend. I wasn’t expecting three people and she caught me a bit off- guard.