Manta- there´s really nothing to tell

For a backpacker, Manta is one of those places that sits uselessly midway between large city and small town. Too big to retain any charm and friendliness that smaller townships radiate, but not big enough to be able to support anything, you know, cool. Like big cities can (however it does run a strong line in intimidating darkened streets).

Our first hotel room was transported from a nearby prison, but given added charm through the use of supermarket style illumination. The spine-alteringly hard mattress was complimented by the toilet in one corner of the room, next to the cold water shower (which didn't have a showerhead). There was a television, but it didn't have any distinct channels, and this was all gloriously lit by a bank of fluorescent tubes set in a blinding mirrorbox in the ceiling. The remarkable thing was that this was the most attractive, happening place we could find that night, and we spent the evening eating peanut butter sandwiches and drinking, peering through the fuzz on the tv at Ecuador's Search for a Supermodel.