Sunday morning around 8:30 I woke to a knocking at my hotel room door. I looked down and realized I was still wearing the clothes from the night before. I also realized I was still a little drunk. I answered the door to find a young man telling me to hurry and get my things, a cab was waiting to take me to the airport. I knodded okay and shut the door. Without showering or changing, I quickly gathered up my things and stuffed them into my pack. I also tried to piece together the night before as I skipped down the stairs to the street below.
The taxi (taxis in the Galapagos are white pick-up trucks with no identifying marks) was waiting out front with the guy who just woke me up sitting in the passenger seat. I threw my bag in the bed of the truck and crawled into the back space behind the passenger seat. As we pulled off it suddenly hit me that no one knew what hotel I was staying in. Only the girls that walked me back the night before knew. But would they have sent a taxi for me? I couldn`t remember them saying anything about it.
I asked the dude in Spanish if we were picking up anyone else. He said there were two other people to pick up. This made me feel a bit better, but still didn`t explain how he knew where I was staying or that I needed a ride. I tried to remain calm and just wait to see who else we picked up. We made two more stops and the dude hopped out of the car each time and disappeared into a hotel. But both times he returned solo. I asked where the other passengers were and he said he didn`t know, but we needed to get moving. Then he and the taxi driver started conversing quickly in Spanish. I tried to jog my memory. Who knew I was at that hotel? Who would have sent this guy? Did I order a cab the day before? Damn my horrible memory.
I started to panic. Was I being kidnapped? What were those guys saying to each other? I couldn`t understand a word. I started texting my coworker and describing the cab. Um, it`s white. There`s a latino driving (duh, I am in Latin America) and a black dude in the passenger seat. I think we`re heading to the airport but I don`t know. If I don`t text in an hour, call the Galapagos police. Shoot, no signal. This national park needs more cell phone towers. Finally it occured to me to ask the guy how he knew where I was staying and that I needed a ride.
"Last night at the club you said you wanted to sleep in and not take the bus. I told you I would add you to the list of passengers I needed to take to the airport."
"I met you at the club?"
"Yes, Gina introduced us."
"Ah, yes, of course. Good deal. Carry on then."
And then my organizer went back to chatting with the driver. 10 minutes later we arrived at the airport. The taxi ride cost him $15, which was to be divided by the three passengers, but he only charged me $5. I bought him a Gatorade and thanked him several times. Then I walked over to the guy holding a sign for the Encantada where I met the rest of the passengers of the yacht trip. I kept a safe distance remembering that I had not showered and probably reaked of alcohol. As soon as we got on the yacht, I retreated to the shower and took a nap.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Puerto Ayora in 21 Hours
Saturday morning I woke up really early after inadvertantly sleeping 11 hours when I laid down for a short nap the night before. I decided to make phone calls to the family and grab a bit to eat before looking for my tour agency again. Since everything seemed to be closed at 7:30am, I stopped by the city grocery store and found a banana, warm carton of oj, and a small loaf of bread. I parked myself on a bench looking out at the anchored yachts and had my breakfast.
Belly full, I went looking for the tour agency. The search ended an hour later when I realized I was at the entrance of the Charles Darwin Foundation museum and research center. Charles arrived in the Galapagos in 1835 on the Beagle, a British naval ship, and spent five short weeks on the islands. Decades later he wrote his book on evolution and dedicated less than 1% of the book to the Galapagos. And now thousands of tourists arrive each year to gift shops full of t-shirts with his face on them. And he has a museum in his name.
The exhibit was informative and the tortise breeding grounds were "cute". In a pin holding the large male tortises I found Teresa and Gina (not tortises). Teresa had just flown in from L.A. to visit her friend Gina, who was volunteering at the Foundation as a guide and commincations director. Gina had quit her job in health care four months earlier and came to the islands as a volunteer for two months before traveling for two more. She fell in love with the islands, and her work at the Foundation, and decided to stay. We chatted about working abroad and I casually mentioned how nifty it would be to work as a graphic designer in the Galapagos Islands. She said they were actually in need of one and that if I was serious, and not interested in making much money, I should follow up. Since she and her visiting friend needed to meet another friend, I typed her number into my phone and suggested we all meet up later that night to talk about it more and hangout. And then I went to look at more tortises.
When I had seen all the captive tortises I could handle, I went off in search of my tour agency again. This was an adventure. I asked five different shop owners if they knew the street or name of the agency. They didn`t. I checked my email to see if they had responded to my note asking for directions. They had. No directions, but a phone number. So I called the number. No English. I managed to understand that I should find a cab and ask to be taken to the Encantada (the name of my yacht) office. And so I did this. My cab dropped me off, I paid him $1, and turned around to see I was at the Encantada radio station office. Wrong Encantada. Next cab. I asked for the Encantada office that wasn`t a radio staion and was taken to a house with no signs on the edge of the small town. I looked at him with skepticism. He said this was the place. I asked if he was sure. He said yes. I paid him $1. He drove off. The lady that answered the door said this was not the Encantada office. Ugh. I walked back to the main street and found a small shop. The young couple inside were most helpful, in Spanish, with directions on how to get to the Encantada office. I got most of it. Then I got lost. I asked three more shop keepers in the vicinity of where I thought I was supposed to go. They pointed and I followed. And finally, at 1pm, I strolled past a garage like shop with scuba gear and a woman who shouted my name. It was the woman I called much earlier. She was waiting for me. Patiently. I was to find my guide back at the airport first thing tomorrow morning. Got it. I think. She told me in Spanish.
I had her point me back to the main street and along the way I found the AeroGal airline office. Sweet! I could ask about my jacket. Apparently I would have to do this in Spanish too since no one there spoke English. I used Spanish, English and sign language to explain that I had left my new black jacket on the plane and that I hoped to retrieve it. A phone call was made. My jacket was at the airline office at the airport. Awesome. My communication skills rock. Time to congratulate myself with some lunch. A big lunch.
Afterwards it was time to relax. I decided to walk to Turtle Bay, a white sand beach about 3kms outside of town. The 30 minute walk was quiet and full of finch sitings. The beach was beautiful. And, as if to remind me I was on the Galapagos, I watched an iguana walk down the beach and into the crashing waves. I chilled. I followed Sally Light-Foot crabs. I explored paths that were, at times, blocked by numerous iguanas. I also saw boobies. The blue-footed birds. What more was there to see? The beach closed at 6pm and so I walked back to town to see if I could catch the second half of the Ecuador/Paraguay soccer game over a beer.
The town`s bars were suddenly full. Everyone was staring down tvs and yelling in unison. I acted defeated when Ecuador lost. When in Rome...
I texted Gina about meeting up and went off in search of a bar to hang at for a bit. Two grande beers later I hadn`t heard from her so I called. The number didn`t work. I had missed a number when I typed it into my phone. And my chances to work as a graphic designer on the Galapagos islands were now finished.
But wait. The bartender asked why I was at the bar alone. I told him I was traveling solo. But I also told him about the volunteer I had met earlier and how I mistyped her phone number and was now unable to find out about a job. He asked who the volunteer was and I told him. "Oh sure, Gina. She comes in her on the weekends. You`ll probably see her in an hour or two." Really?? And the night was looking up again. The bartender was just finishing his shift and came around to join me. He asked where I was from and, when he heard the U.S., said this was reason enough to do shots with him. I had watched him drink beer after beer as he searved everyone else at the bar. He was well on his way to drunkeness. But who was I to refuse this man`s requests. And so we did shots. Of tequila. I almost threw up on him. Maybe I should have. That would have stopped me from continuing down the stupid spiral I was entering. The night started to get foggy about this time (as one would expect it to).
A short time later the bartender introduced me to a girl who entered who worked with Gina at the foundation. I chattered her up for a bit-she was from Canada, working for the year as part of her studies. I explained the phone problem and she called Gina and told her where I was. My bartender friend conintued to offer shots. A short time later the friend and I were walking across the street to a large (in relation to the island bars) club. Gina would meet us here. The place was packed with people my age. I couldn`t figure out where they had all come from. I didn`t think there were this many people on the island. I got passed off to other friends who clearly did not yet know how drunk I was. They in turn passed me off to other friends. There was some awkward dancing. There were conversations repeated several times for my benefit. I talked to Gina at some point. Then I lost track of her. I got passed off to the point that around 3am, when I was chugging water like it was...water, I was talking to three locals who had no idea who Gina or her friend were. But they were fairly certain I needed help getting home. They were right. Since I couldn`t remember the name of my hotel, I offered landmarks to help them guide me to my hotel. Thankfully, Puerto Ayora is small. They got me to the hotel entrance, asked me to check my pockets to make sure I was still in possession of everything, and reminded me I needed to be awake early for my ride to the airport. I thanked them. Then I fell asleep. Mostly in my bed. Without setting my alarm.
Belly full, I went looking for the tour agency. The search ended an hour later when I realized I was at the entrance of the Charles Darwin Foundation museum and research center. Charles arrived in the Galapagos in 1835 on the Beagle, a British naval ship, and spent five short weeks on the islands. Decades later he wrote his book on evolution and dedicated less than 1% of the book to the Galapagos. And now thousands of tourists arrive each year to gift shops full of t-shirts with his face on them. And he has a museum in his name.
The exhibit was informative and the tortise breeding grounds were "cute". In a pin holding the large male tortises I found Teresa and Gina (not tortises). Teresa had just flown in from L.A. to visit her friend Gina, who was volunteering at the Foundation as a guide and commincations director. Gina had quit her job in health care four months earlier and came to the islands as a volunteer for two months before traveling for two more. She fell in love with the islands, and her work at the Foundation, and decided to stay. We chatted about working abroad and I casually mentioned how nifty it would be to work as a graphic designer in the Galapagos Islands. She said they were actually in need of one and that if I was serious, and not interested in making much money, I should follow up. Since she and her visiting friend needed to meet another friend, I typed her number into my phone and suggested we all meet up later that night to talk about it more and hangout. And then I went to look at more tortises.
When I had seen all the captive tortises I could handle, I went off in search of my tour agency again. This was an adventure. I asked five different shop owners if they knew the street or name of the agency. They didn`t. I checked my email to see if they had responded to my note asking for directions. They had. No directions, but a phone number. So I called the number. No English. I managed to understand that I should find a cab and ask to be taken to the Encantada (the name of my yacht) office. And so I did this. My cab dropped me off, I paid him $1, and turned around to see I was at the Encantada radio station office. Wrong Encantada. Next cab. I asked for the Encantada office that wasn`t a radio staion and was taken to a house with no signs on the edge of the small town. I looked at him with skepticism. He said this was the place. I asked if he was sure. He said yes. I paid him $1. He drove off. The lady that answered the door said this was not the Encantada office. Ugh. I walked back to the main street and found a small shop. The young couple inside were most helpful, in Spanish, with directions on how to get to the Encantada office. I got most of it. Then I got lost. I asked three more shop keepers in the vicinity of where I thought I was supposed to go. They pointed and I followed. And finally, at 1pm, I strolled past a garage like shop with scuba gear and a woman who shouted my name. It was the woman I called much earlier. She was waiting for me. Patiently. I was to find my guide back at the airport first thing tomorrow morning. Got it. I think. She told me in Spanish.
I had her point me back to the main street and along the way I found the AeroGal airline office. Sweet! I could ask about my jacket. Apparently I would have to do this in Spanish too since no one there spoke English. I used Spanish, English and sign language to explain that I had left my new black jacket on the plane and that I hoped to retrieve it. A phone call was made. My jacket was at the airline office at the airport. Awesome. My communication skills rock. Time to congratulate myself with some lunch. A big lunch.
Afterwards it was time to relax. I decided to walk to Turtle Bay, a white sand beach about 3kms outside of town. The 30 minute walk was quiet and full of finch sitings. The beach was beautiful. And, as if to remind me I was on the Galapagos, I watched an iguana walk down the beach and into the crashing waves. I chilled. I followed Sally Light-Foot crabs. I explored paths that were, at times, blocked by numerous iguanas. I also saw boobies. The blue-footed birds. What more was there to see? The beach closed at 6pm and so I walked back to town to see if I could catch the second half of the Ecuador/Paraguay soccer game over a beer.
The town`s bars were suddenly full. Everyone was staring down tvs and yelling in unison. I acted defeated when Ecuador lost. When in Rome...
I texted Gina about meeting up and went off in search of a bar to hang at for a bit. Two grande beers later I hadn`t heard from her so I called. The number didn`t work. I had missed a number when I typed it into my phone. And my chances to work as a graphic designer on the Galapagos islands were now finished.
But wait. The bartender asked why I was at the bar alone. I told him I was traveling solo. But I also told him about the volunteer I had met earlier and how I mistyped her phone number and was now unable to find out about a job. He asked who the volunteer was and I told him. "Oh sure, Gina. She comes in her on the weekends. You`ll probably see her in an hour or two." Really?? And the night was looking up again. The bartender was just finishing his shift and came around to join me. He asked where I was from and, when he heard the U.S., said this was reason enough to do shots with him. I had watched him drink beer after beer as he searved everyone else at the bar. He was well on his way to drunkeness. But who was I to refuse this man`s requests. And so we did shots. Of tequila. I almost threw up on him. Maybe I should have. That would have stopped me from continuing down the stupid spiral I was entering. The night started to get foggy about this time (as one would expect it to).
A short time later the bartender introduced me to a girl who entered who worked with Gina at the foundation. I chattered her up for a bit-she was from Canada, working for the year as part of her studies. I explained the phone problem and she called Gina and told her where I was. My bartender friend conintued to offer shots. A short time later the friend and I were walking across the street to a large (in relation to the island bars) club. Gina would meet us here. The place was packed with people my age. I couldn`t figure out where they had all come from. I didn`t think there were this many people on the island. I got passed off to other friends who clearly did not yet know how drunk I was. They in turn passed me off to other friends. There was some awkward dancing. There were conversations repeated several times for my benefit. I talked to Gina at some point. Then I lost track of her. I got passed off to the point that around 3am, when I was chugging water like it was...water, I was talking to three locals who had no idea who Gina or her friend were. But they were fairly certain I needed help getting home. They were right. Since I couldn`t remember the name of my hotel, I offered landmarks to help them guide me to my hotel. Thankfully, Puerto Ayora is small. They got me to the hotel entrance, asked me to check my pockets to make sure I was still in possession of everything, and reminded me I needed to be awake early for my ride to the airport. I thanked them. Then I fell asleep. Mostly in my bed. Without setting my alarm.
Monday, November 26, 2007
No Time for Love, Dr Jones
Friday morning I was up at 5am (before my alarm - anxious?) to shower and get ready for my cab to the airport. I was leaving for the Galapagos Islands. But first I had to fly to Guayaquil to pick up the flight I originally booked from there instead of Quito. I was outside the hostal waiting and chatting with the manager when the requested taxi arrived right on time. He raced through the empty streets of Quito, prompting me to buckle my seatbelt, and upon arrival at the airport 15 minutes later, asked me for six dollars. It cost me $4 max before. He gave me a BS excuse about an extra charge because of the hour (I discovered it was BS later) and I gave him $5. Adios Quito. I checked in with no problems. Then I got to the waiting area. None of the flights listed on the departures screen were my flight number. But I had an hour and half. So I didn`t panic.
An hour later my flight number was still not on the screen and I started panicing. I asked one of the busy attendants in spanish if I had the right flight number. She said yes. I asked if it was leaving on time. She said yes. And then she walked away. I strained to decipher the announcements in Spanish and continued to watch the monitor. But nothing was said about my flight. Another flight was going to Guayaguil five minutes before mine and the flight number was one number shy of mine. But no mention of mine. I paced. I sat by the gate. I tried to listen for my flight number in other passengers` conversations. Nothing. Then, as the flight five minutes before mine was boarding, a man was stopped and told his flight to Guayaquil was to leave from the same gate five minutes after the current one. I asked him if his flight number was the same as mine. It was. My eyes stayed glued to him for the next ten minutes. And then I boarded my flight. *whew*
Guayaquil was much easier. Despite an hour delay, there were no problems and I was eventually on a plane bound for the Galapagos. I slept through the entire flight.
Once I arrived in Baltra, the island with nothing more than a tiny airport, I hopped off the plane and walked quickly to.....a long line of tourists waiting for a passport check and baggage check at customs. To enter the Galapagos islands, one must pay a $100 park entrance fee. This is because the entire islands are considered a national park. And because Ecuador apparently saw the money making potential when they claimed the islands as their own 100+ years ago. This was news to the many English whalers already living on the island. In fairness, no flag no country. I paid my $100 entrance fee and got a nifty little park card for my expense. I lost it immediately.
Most tourists come to hop on a boat immediately so are picked up at the airport by their guide. I had arrived a few days early to hang out on my own and so I had to take the bus an hour to the main town. The airport island was hot. Half way through the bus trip it suddenly got rather chilly. This is when I discovered I had left my new jacket on the plane. Why was I in a hurry to get off?
When I arrived in Puerto Ayora, the main town, I walked to the nearest hostal I could see. Lonely Planet said it would cost $9. The guy inside quoted me $16. I asked about hot water. He said there was none. I suggested $9. He said that was too low. I lied and said the hostal across the street asked for $11 and they had hot water. He said, "for you, $9. but I would not charge this to others". Right.
After dumping my things I decided to go for a walk around the small town in search of the company that had organized my yacht cruise. I also wanted to find the airline office to see if it was possible to get my jacket back. The airline office was not where Lonely Planet said it would be and no one had heard of the street listed on the company letterhead for my cruise. I decided it was time to get something to eat and found a place near the water. And then I stuffed myself with chicken in papaya sauce, rice, veggies, and a grande beer. I suddenly had the urge to lie down and headed back to my hostal for a short nap before exploring the night life scene. My nap lasted from 7pm until 6:45am.
Bingo. Recovered from my outing the previous night.
An hour later my flight number was still not on the screen and I started panicing. I asked one of the busy attendants in spanish if I had the right flight number. She said yes. I asked if it was leaving on time. She said yes. And then she walked away. I strained to decipher the announcements in Spanish and continued to watch the monitor. But nothing was said about my flight. Another flight was going to Guayaguil five minutes before mine and the flight number was one number shy of mine. But no mention of mine. I paced. I sat by the gate. I tried to listen for my flight number in other passengers` conversations. Nothing. Then, as the flight five minutes before mine was boarding, a man was stopped and told his flight to Guayaquil was to leave from the same gate five minutes after the current one. I asked him if his flight number was the same as mine. It was. My eyes stayed glued to him for the next ten minutes. And then I boarded my flight. *whew*
Guayaquil was much easier. Despite an hour delay, there were no problems and I was eventually on a plane bound for the Galapagos. I slept through the entire flight.
Once I arrived in Baltra, the island with nothing more than a tiny airport, I hopped off the plane and walked quickly to.....a long line of tourists waiting for a passport check and baggage check at customs. To enter the Galapagos islands, one must pay a $100 park entrance fee. This is because the entire islands are considered a national park. And because Ecuador apparently saw the money making potential when they claimed the islands as their own 100+ years ago. This was news to the many English whalers already living on the island. In fairness, no flag no country. I paid my $100 entrance fee and got a nifty little park card for my expense. I lost it immediately.
Most tourists come to hop on a boat immediately so are picked up at the airport by their guide. I had arrived a few days early to hang out on my own and so I had to take the bus an hour to the main town. The airport island was hot. Half way through the bus trip it suddenly got rather chilly. This is when I discovered I had left my new jacket on the plane. Why was I in a hurry to get off?
When I arrived in Puerto Ayora, the main town, I walked to the nearest hostal I could see. Lonely Planet said it would cost $9. The guy inside quoted me $16. I asked about hot water. He said there was none. I suggested $9. He said that was too low. I lied and said the hostal across the street asked for $11 and they had hot water. He said, "for you, $9. but I would not charge this to others". Right.
After dumping my things I decided to go for a walk around the small town in search of the company that had organized my yacht cruise. I also wanted to find the airline office to see if it was possible to get my jacket back. The airline office was not where Lonely Planet said it would be and no one had heard of the street listed on the company letterhead for my cruise. I decided it was time to get something to eat and found a place near the water. And then I stuffed myself with chicken in papaya sauce, rice, veggies, and a grande beer. I suddenly had the urge to lie down and headed back to my hostal for a short nap before exploring the night life scene. My nap lasted from 7pm until 6:45am.
Bingo. Recovered from my outing the previous night.
My Last Few Days in Quito: Thursday
Thursday I had planned to follow the advice of you, the readers (are you still out there? comments have been lacking) and either do a bike tour down a volcano or take a bus to Ecuador`s most luxurious thermal pools. But Wednesday I discovered the bike tour was on Friday and I didn`t get out of bed Thursday morning until 9:30, killing any chance of catching a bus in time for the pools two+ hours away. And so I decided to do teleferiQo (yes, that is how it`s spelled): Quito`s multi-million dollar sky tran and theme park. Cable cars take riders 2.5 kms up Volcan Pichincha to Cruz Loma at 4100 meters for a view of all of Quito and a good portion of Ecuador. I had wanted to do this earlier in my stay, but every day in Ecuador around 2pm clouds roll in and cover the city. So since I didn`t have class, today was the day.
I took my time getting out of bed and showering for the day, finally making it out to look for a cab around 10:45am. On the weekends teleferiQo can draw crowds that bring the wait to four hours to ride up. When I arrived I found a couple of dogs laying near the ticket counter. That was it as far as crowds. The ride up with three young Ecuadorians visiting from the coast was quiet aside from a few giggles and questions about where I was from. Once I arrived at the peak I went off to check out the views. Quito doesn`t so much spread out from the center in equal directions. Because of the surrounding mountains, Quito is a lengthy city. A looooong lengthy city. The views were cool. There was a small hike into what was posted, and ignored, as private land where one could get different views from other angles. At that altitude it was tough to hike any where. Even the Ecuadorians were having a tough time of it. Except the old woman who was chain smoking near the trail head. The altitude seemed to have no effect on her.
Finally I made my way back to the park entrance, looking out over the theme park, but otherwise paying little attention to it. And here is where I realized I had no ride back. I had thought cabs would be waiting to take people back into town. But there weren`t really any people on a Thursday afternoon. And so I walked. Down. And down. Until a cab full of people passed me going up. I motioned that I would appreciate a ride on his way back. And 15 minutes later he found me. Thankfully.
I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get my glasses replaced. My roommate wanted to do some shopping at the mall. We decided to combine these efforts when I returned to Gringoland and after a large meat lunch around the corner. Several optical shops were asked about new glasses. All replied at least three days were needed. I was leaving the next morning. Apparently without glasses. That didn`t stop us from cruising Quito`s malls. I found a trendy shirt for my last evening out. My roommate found several new travel tees. We were both conent. Though it was made clear to us that although food and goods are cheaper in Ecuador, clothes are not. In fact they are the exact same price if not more than in the States. It`s a wonder the Banana Republics, Guess, and Calvin Kliens stay in business.
That night I was picked up and taken to Ataka, a trendy bar on a hill near Quito`s Old Town. I was supposed to get another cool view of Quito. But, on par for my stay, Quito was very foggy that night, and the view was of several blurry lights. Still, the bar was cool, and I got a great calzone and an earful of Spanish from as many as eleven different people I had seen during my stay. When the check was paid around 10:45 and I was dropped at my hostal around 11pm, I was summoned to a dance club a block away by my original host who was there with a few coworkers. I was escorted to the VIP area where, to my surprise, we were the only VIPs. I room full of dancers in the first area, and the four of us in the VIP room. A little tranquilo to say the least. But after three rum and cokes, I had no problem leaving my bar stool and doing a couple of jigs with the others. The VIP area eventually opened to more people, but we also eventually decided to call it a night. My host had work in the morning and I had to be up at 5:15am to shower and catch a cab to the airport.
I also needed to pack. Much to the chagrin of my roommate who was already sleeping. Trying to pack after several rum and cokes is never a quiet task. I think she managed to sleep through it. I was in bed by 2am and awake three hours later for my flight to the Galapagos.
For pics of my last few days (mostly of teleferQo) follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603299341498/
I took my time getting out of bed and showering for the day, finally making it out to look for a cab around 10:45am. On the weekends teleferiQo can draw crowds that bring the wait to four hours to ride up. When I arrived I found a couple of dogs laying near the ticket counter. That was it as far as crowds. The ride up with three young Ecuadorians visiting from the coast was quiet aside from a few giggles and questions about where I was from. Once I arrived at the peak I went off to check out the views. Quito doesn`t so much spread out from the center in equal directions. Because of the surrounding mountains, Quito is a lengthy city. A looooong lengthy city. The views were cool. There was a small hike into what was posted, and ignored, as private land where one could get different views from other angles. At that altitude it was tough to hike any where. Even the Ecuadorians were having a tough time of it. Except the old woman who was chain smoking near the trail head. The altitude seemed to have no effect on her.
Finally I made my way back to the park entrance, looking out over the theme park, but otherwise paying little attention to it. And here is where I realized I had no ride back. I had thought cabs would be waiting to take people back into town. But there weren`t really any people on a Thursday afternoon. And so I walked. Down. And down. Until a cab full of people passed me going up. I motioned that I would appreciate a ride on his way back. And 15 minutes later he found me. Thankfully.
I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get my glasses replaced. My roommate wanted to do some shopping at the mall. We decided to combine these efforts when I returned to Gringoland and after a large meat lunch around the corner. Several optical shops were asked about new glasses. All replied at least three days were needed. I was leaving the next morning. Apparently without glasses. That didn`t stop us from cruising Quito`s malls. I found a trendy shirt for my last evening out. My roommate found several new travel tees. We were both conent. Though it was made clear to us that although food and goods are cheaper in Ecuador, clothes are not. In fact they are the exact same price if not more than in the States. It`s a wonder the Banana Republics, Guess, and Calvin Kliens stay in business.
That night I was picked up and taken to Ataka, a trendy bar on a hill near Quito`s Old Town. I was supposed to get another cool view of Quito. But, on par for my stay, Quito was very foggy that night, and the view was of several blurry lights. Still, the bar was cool, and I got a great calzone and an earful of Spanish from as many as eleven different people I had seen during my stay. When the check was paid around 10:45 and I was dropped at my hostal around 11pm, I was summoned to a dance club a block away by my original host who was there with a few coworkers. I was escorted to the VIP area where, to my surprise, we were the only VIPs. I room full of dancers in the first area, and the four of us in the VIP room. A little tranquilo to say the least. But after three rum and cokes, I had no problem leaving my bar stool and doing a couple of jigs with the others. The VIP area eventually opened to more people, but we also eventually decided to call it a night. My host had work in the morning and I had to be up at 5:15am to shower and catch a cab to the airport.
I also needed to pack. Much to the chagrin of my roommate who was already sleeping. Trying to pack after several rum and cokes is never a quiet task. I think she managed to sleep through it. I was in bed by 2am and awake three hours later for my flight to the Galapagos.
For pics of my last few days (mostly of teleferQo) follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603299341498/
My Last Few Days in Quito: Wednesday
Wednesday was my last day of class. I had purposefully left my last day open to do whatever I had missed during the first three weeks. But I was tired from the night out before and in no mood to relearn the subjunctive tenses of verbs. Half way through class I asked my profesora if we could take a break and walk around the corner to find a new charger for my phone. I knew I would never be able to explain what I was looking for, so I sold this as a learning excursion. She agreed and we were on our way. And then she stood back and let me do all the talking. It was ugly. But I walked out with a functioning charger. For $5. Awesome.
On the walk back I still had no desire to study so I asked her if I could treat her to lunch since it was our last day together. She had no problem with this and so after collecting our things, we walked across the street to a Cuban restaurant and ordered two Lunches of the Day. There was meat, there was yuca and rice, there was bean soup, there was some sort of fresh fruit drink. And there was a sweeeeet dessert neither of us cared for. And this cost me $5 total. Thanks teach! We chatted about Ecuadorian politics, about our families, about her thinking I wasn`t happy with my teacher. I reminded her I was on vacation and school was not my idea of vacation. So it was not the profesora but the class that I wasn`t enthusiastic about. But I thanked her for all the lessons and she wished me luck on my travels. She actually wished me a lot of luck. I think she was concerned with how little I had learned and how much longer I was planning to travel on my own.
After class I decided to hit Quito`s cultural museum. Lonely Planet gave it rave reviews and I figured it would be good to get a bit of history of the country. If nothing else, I could get more pics for the blog. The cab ride was short; it was only a few blocks away. But it was long enough for me to leave my glasses in the cab. If this had happened after the museum, I wouldn`t have been as annoyed. But now I had to stand inches from each description to read what was going on. Regardless the museum was great. At least the first half with all the artifacts. Who knew Ecuador had so many ancient cultures? Who knew they liked to make so many homoerotic sculptures? The collection was vast (not just erotic stuff) and descriptions were in English and Spanish. Had I gotten there before 3pm I would have spent more time trying to read the Spanish first. Beyond ancient history there was also the history of the conquest. This was comprised of many religious pieces and lengthy descriptions. This hurt my head and thus I moved through quickly. To modern art. Ecuador`s modern art movents seem to be directly related to the modern art movements of the U.S., just occuring a few decades later. And sorry Ecuador, it wasn`t very good. But modern art in the U.S. bores me too. And so at 5pm I ended my tour with camera still in pocket. I was scolded the first time I tried to raise my camera so no pics for the blog after all.
Back to Gringland I met my roommate for a big steak dinner at an Argentine restaurant around the corner. Steak and Fanta. Mmmm mmmm. And then I caught a cab to meet my host on the other side of town. The plan was to get coffee and say goodbyes. But when I arrived outside of a convention center, I learned she had just been at a lecture with her class and she and the other students were going for pizza and beer at a "western" bar just down the street. Not kidding, the server was dressed in full cowboy outfit. There was U.S. western decor every where. Things were a little quiet at first as everyone was speaking quickly in Spanish and I just stared blankly. But after we hit the second large tube o´ beer, speaking slowed and it was time to question the gringo. And off I went in Spanglish with my host interpretting when necessary. Four tubes o` beer and two pizzas later (and me explaining that Catholism is not the only form of Christianity - when I said I was not Catholic but protestant, it was inferred that I was not Christian), we realized we were the only ones left in the bar and the bar staff were waiting patiently for us to leave. I was put into a cab and directed back to Gringoland. I drunkenly slipped into bed around 12:45am.
On the walk back I still had no desire to study so I asked her if I could treat her to lunch since it was our last day together. She had no problem with this and so after collecting our things, we walked across the street to a Cuban restaurant and ordered two Lunches of the Day. There was meat, there was yuca and rice, there was bean soup, there was some sort of fresh fruit drink. And there was a sweeeeet dessert neither of us cared for. And this cost me $5 total. Thanks teach! We chatted about Ecuadorian politics, about our families, about her thinking I wasn`t happy with my teacher. I reminded her I was on vacation and school was not my idea of vacation. So it was not the profesora but the class that I wasn`t enthusiastic about. But I thanked her for all the lessons and she wished me luck on my travels. She actually wished me a lot of luck. I think she was concerned with how little I had learned and how much longer I was planning to travel on my own.
After class I decided to hit Quito`s cultural museum. Lonely Planet gave it rave reviews and I figured it would be good to get a bit of history of the country. If nothing else, I could get more pics for the blog. The cab ride was short; it was only a few blocks away. But it was long enough for me to leave my glasses in the cab. If this had happened after the museum, I wouldn`t have been as annoyed. But now I had to stand inches from each description to read what was going on. Regardless the museum was great. At least the first half with all the artifacts. Who knew Ecuador had so many ancient cultures? Who knew they liked to make so many homoerotic sculptures? The collection was vast (not just erotic stuff) and descriptions were in English and Spanish. Had I gotten there before 3pm I would have spent more time trying to read the Spanish first. Beyond ancient history there was also the history of the conquest. This was comprised of many religious pieces and lengthy descriptions. This hurt my head and thus I moved through quickly. To modern art. Ecuador`s modern art movents seem to be directly related to the modern art movements of the U.S., just occuring a few decades later. And sorry Ecuador, it wasn`t very good. But modern art in the U.S. bores me too. And so at 5pm I ended my tour with camera still in pocket. I was scolded the first time I tried to raise my camera so no pics for the blog after all.
Back to Gringland I met my roommate for a big steak dinner at an Argentine restaurant around the corner. Steak and Fanta. Mmmm mmmm. And then I caught a cab to meet my host on the other side of town. The plan was to get coffee and say goodbyes. But when I arrived outside of a convention center, I learned she had just been at a lecture with her class and she and the other students were going for pizza and beer at a "western" bar just down the street. Not kidding, the server was dressed in full cowboy outfit. There was U.S. western decor every where. Things were a little quiet at first as everyone was speaking quickly in Spanish and I just stared blankly. But after we hit the second large tube o´ beer, speaking slowed and it was time to question the gringo. And off I went in Spanglish with my host interpretting when necessary. Four tubes o` beer and two pizzas later (and me explaining that Catholism is not the only form of Christianity - when I said I was not Catholic but protestant, it was inferred that I was not Christian), we realized we were the only ones left in the bar and the bar staff were waiting patiently for us to leave. I was put into a cab and directed back to Gringoland. I drunkenly slipped into bed around 12:45am.
My Last Few Days in Quito: Monday & Tuesday
It has now been eleven days since I left Quito so I am a bit behind on posting this entry. But I was on a yacht for eight days so I deserve a little slack. I am notoriously forgetful, and the notes I took of those four days are bsically five to six words for each day, so bear with me.
Monday morning (that would be the 12th) my coworker was to leave Quito to return to the States. There had been an accident several days earlier involving a plane tumbling off the runway and into the barrier that separates the highway from the airport. This delayed his (and several others´) departure by a day. After Spanish was over at 1pm I caught a cab to the airport to say goodbye (not adios - he was still speaking to me in English). My cab driver was surprised I had no luggage. I think this kept him from trying to over charge me. I didn`t explain.
My coworker had arrived at the airport several hours early to be on the safe side. This left him, his girlfriend, his girlfriend`s mom (and ride), and me standing around for some time making small talk. A hamburger platter later, I decided it was time to get back to the city and leave him to spend the last five and a half hours with his girlfriend (and her mom). I took a cab back to the city - confusing another driver with my lack of luggage, but not getting over charged - and met my new roommate in the hostal for some lounge time at Coffee Tree around the corner in the main plaza. Two mojitos & a cuban (for me) and two coffees (for her) later, it was back to the hostal for homework time. And that was my crazy Monday.
Tuesday morning I went to the hostal´s dining area, as I did every morning since I arrived, for breakfast before class. This time however my server reminded me that studying Spanish from a notebook will only get me so far. And thus my pre-spanish class spanish lesson started. I learned when you want to know the cost of something in general you ask Cuanto Cuesta but when in a restaurant you always ask for La Cuenta. Maple syrup is Meil de Maple (maple honey). And to say enjoy your meal you say Buen Provecho. And there is your lesson of the day.
Class was full of the command forms of verbs. But mostly conversation since I had learned these in the States (thanks JL). My afternoon was spent walking around the city for a bit checking out this and that and then sitting in a cyber cafe typing up a blog entry about my weekend in Baños. Yes, it´s been that long. That evening my hosts took me to a restaurant up on a hill in Old Town called Mosaico. The restaurant is well known, not so much for the food, but for the incredible view of Quito. And it really was incredible. We had a table right by the window - and next to the only group of older Americans I saw the entire time I was in Quito. There was loud talk and shouting across the restaurant about taxis and accommodations. There was me sinking lower in my seat.
But back to the view. I could see the Virgin on the hill, the old town, the churches, the new town, and things my hosts could not name. And for dinner? It was ordered for me. I cannot remember the name, but I asked for a typical Ecuadorian dish and I got one. Basically it was a steak with an egg on top, with rice and veggies. A dish that is also typical of American all-night diners. But this was really good. It was washed down with fresh strawberry juice. Unfortunately it took over and hour for the food to arrive after we ordered it (known for the view, not the service) so there was no time, or room, for dessert. We finished out the night at a bar back in Gringoland at a going away happy hour for a Norwegian who had been in the city for five weeks. I got three different answers when I asked where he was going next, so I can`t say for sure. But he had quite a gathering.
Monday morning (that would be the 12th) my coworker was to leave Quito to return to the States. There had been an accident several days earlier involving a plane tumbling off the runway and into the barrier that separates the highway from the airport. This delayed his (and several others´) departure by a day. After Spanish was over at 1pm I caught a cab to the airport to say goodbye (not adios - he was still speaking to me in English). My cab driver was surprised I had no luggage. I think this kept him from trying to over charge me. I didn`t explain.
My coworker had arrived at the airport several hours early to be on the safe side. This left him, his girlfriend, his girlfriend`s mom (and ride), and me standing around for some time making small talk. A hamburger platter later, I decided it was time to get back to the city and leave him to spend the last five and a half hours with his girlfriend (and her mom). I took a cab back to the city - confusing another driver with my lack of luggage, but not getting over charged - and met my new roommate in the hostal for some lounge time at Coffee Tree around the corner in the main plaza. Two mojitos & a cuban (for me) and two coffees (for her) later, it was back to the hostal for homework time. And that was my crazy Monday.
Tuesday morning I went to the hostal´s dining area, as I did every morning since I arrived, for breakfast before class. This time however my server reminded me that studying Spanish from a notebook will only get me so far. And thus my pre-spanish class spanish lesson started. I learned when you want to know the cost of something in general you ask Cuanto Cuesta but when in a restaurant you always ask for La Cuenta. Maple syrup is Meil de Maple (maple honey). And to say enjoy your meal you say Buen Provecho. And there is your lesson of the day.
Class was full of the command forms of verbs. But mostly conversation since I had learned these in the States (thanks JL). My afternoon was spent walking around the city for a bit checking out this and that and then sitting in a cyber cafe typing up a blog entry about my weekend in Baños. Yes, it´s been that long. That evening my hosts took me to a restaurant up on a hill in Old Town called Mosaico. The restaurant is well known, not so much for the food, but for the incredible view of Quito. And it really was incredible. We had a table right by the window - and next to the only group of older Americans I saw the entire time I was in Quito. There was loud talk and shouting across the restaurant about taxis and accommodations. There was me sinking lower in my seat.
But back to the view. I could see the Virgin on the hill, the old town, the churches, the new town, and things my hosts could not name. And for dinner? It was ordered for me. I cannot remember the name, but I asked for a typical Ecuadorian dish and I got one. Basically it was a steak with an egg on top, with rice and veggies. A dish that is also typical of American all-night diners. But this was really good. It was washed down with fresh strawberry juice. Unfortunately it took over and hour for the food to arrive after we ordered it (known for the view, not the service) so there was no time, or room, for dessert. We finished out the night at a bar back in Gringoland at a going away happy hour for a Norwegian who had been in the city for five weeks. I got three different answers when I asked where he was going next, so I can`t say for sure. But he had quite a gathering.
A Second Look
So despite not finding any place to do my laundry (I will be washing my undies in my sink tonight), I have decided Guayaquil is actually kinda cool. After uploading ten thousand Galapagos pics today - they still need to be edited down, so no peaking - I decided to take a stroll around the city. You will have to wait until I get caught up on the past two weeks on the blog before you can read why I changed my mind. But for all you Guayaguiliños(sp?) out there: I dig your city. Thanks for hosting. I am still leaving bright and early tomorrow morning for Cuenca though.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Solo Gringo
The plane out of the Galapagos finally left at 4:15pm. It was scheduled to leave at noon. The mainland is one hour ahead, so I got to Guayaquil at 7pm. My original plan today was to head back to the main island in the Galapagos, do laundry, maybe go see some giant tortises in the wild, and have a beer and watch futbol. But after being told I could switch my flight and be in Guayaquil by 2pm, I figured I would just come here and spend the day site-seeing and doing laundry at half the cost.
And then I arrived at 7pm. I didn`t really know what to do once I arrived, so I quickly found a quiet spot in the airport and flipped through my Lonely Planet guide to find a hostal that was near a laundry and a cyber cafe, and maybe near something nifty. Thing is, most tourists skip Guayaquil. And after arriving at my hostal and then walking down the main strip for 30 minutes, I see why. It`s just a big, dirty city. There is nothing unique about it. At least not at 8pm on a Sunday night. I did not see one gringo on my stroll down the avenue and almost everything was closed. Except this one cyber cafe, several ice cream shops, and a KFC. And so here I type. Back in my room sits a large pile of dirty clothes, because the laundry closed at 5pm. Tomorrow I plan to hit the laundry early, then maybe walk around and see if the city looks any better during the day. At some point I will hit the bus station to see if I can get a bus to Cuenca late tomorrow afternoon. That city has much more promise. And my travel buddy from Quito said she would meet me there. It has to be a step up from Guayaquil.
And then I arrived at 7pm. I didn`t really know what to do once I arrived, so I quickly found a quiet spot in the airport and flipped through my Lonely Planet guide to find a hostal that was near a laundry and a cyber cafe, and maybe near something nifty. Thing is, most tourists skip Guayaquil. And after arriving at my hostal and then walking down the main strip for 30 minutes, I see why. It`s just a big, dirty city. There is nothing unique about it. At least not at 8pm on a Sunday night. I did not see one gringo on my stroll down the avenue and almost everything was closed. Except this one cyber cafe, several ice cream shops, and a KFC. And so here I type. Back in my room sits a large pile of dirty clothes, because the laundry closed at 5pm. Tomorrow I plan to hit the laundry early, then maybe walk around and see if the city looks any better during the day. At some point I will hit the bus station to see if I can get a bus to Cuenca late tomorrow afternoon. That city has much more promise. And my travel buddy from Quito said she would meet me there. It has to be a step up from Guayaquil.
A Quick Change
The sailing trip is over. We were dropped at the airport instead of the main town. So instead of spending twice as much money to spend an afternoon washing all my dirty laundry, I switched my ticket to fly back to the mainland today. But of course the plane is delayed. I will arrive in Guayaquil around 5pm. There will probably be little to see tonight so I will spend most of the evening at a cyber cafe uploading hundreds of pics (probably thousands) and trying to write some stories. Then it`s off to explore the city on Monday. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I had fish...
But the view was excellent. And I snorkeled with sealions and white tip sharks.
But the view was excellent. And I snorkeled with sealions and white tip sharks.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Wish You Were Here?
I'm still sailing. The Galapagos trip has been amazing so far. Brilliant even. It's mid-trip and we are losing some passengers (most actually) and picking up more. At the moment the group is touring the Charles Darwin Museum. I saw it on Saturday while I was on my own here. So I am taking the afternoon to enjoy solid walking and catching up with people. Oh, and a gin & tonic at the bar by the dock with a few sea lions. I return to the main island on Sunday morning. I will post stories of the past two weeks then. Until then, here is a video. This was most of my day Saturday. This and tracking down the company in charge of my yacht...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jCBexQDQfOg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jCBexQDQfOg
Friday, November 16, 2007
Random Thoughts
And because I can`t upload my pics from this week, I will write more random thoughts and postpone the write up of my week before leaving.
I am wearing my one pair of jeans way to much.
UNC almost doubled their opponents´ score in the exhibition game, then came close to losing the season opener to Davidson. Why did I time this trip during college b-ball season?
No one seems to drink Gin here.
Buses are never too full to turn away another passenger.
I wish the U.S. adopted the gap year when I graduated high school.
British passports have pictures of birds on every page. Discuss.
Now matter how transient I feel, using a Q-tip makes me feel civilized.
I have ordered a sandwich at three different places and each used three slices of bread.
I read this in the Lonely Planet guide:
"To call someone in Argentina from outside Argentina, you`ll need to dial your country`s international access code, then Argentina`s country code, then the city`s area code (leaving out the first 0), then the number itself. When dialing an Argentine cell phone from outside Argentina, dial your country`s international access code, then 54, then 9, then the area code and number, leaving out the 15."
Wow.
I am wearing my one pair of jeans way to much.
UNC almost doubled their opponents´ score in the exhibition game, then came close to losing the season opener to Davidson. Why did I time this trip during college b-ball season?
No one seems to drink Gin here.
Buses are never too full to turn away another passenger.
I wish the U.S. adopted the gap year when I graduated high school.
British passports have pictures of birds on every page. Discuss.
Now matter how transient I feel, using a Q-tip makes me feel civilized.
I have ordered a sandwich at three different places and each used three slices of bread.
I read this in the Lonely Planet guide:
"To call someone in Argentina from outside Argentina, you`ll need to dial your country`s international access code, then Argentina`s country code, then the city`s area code (leaving out the first 0), then the number itself. When dialing an Argentine cell phone from outside Argentina, dial your country`s international access code, then 54, then 9, then the area code and number, leaving out the 15."
Wow.
Thanks Quito, I`m Out.
After three weeks I have finally left Quito. Today I arrived in the Galapagos Islands. Other than chilling on the beach or watching TV at a restaurant, I am finding there is little to do here before my big yacht trip. So here`s a blog to thank Quito (and the people of Quito) for getting me through my first three weeks in South America.
Thanks to
Vane (and family): For looking out for me and making Quito so easy.
Coworker: For getting me set up. Or asking your girlfriend to get me set up.
Patricia: For patience above the call of duty during our Spanish classes.
Regina: For asking me if I wanted to hang out. And then continuing to hang out with me.
Lula: For all the beautiful views of Quito. And being patient with my Spanish.
Pauli: For keeping me connected to everyone.
Miguel: For not making fun of my dancing.
Day hostel manager: For speaking to me in Spanglish.
Obnoxious British kids: For reminding me why hostels are so much cheaper than hotels.
City cabs: The 8% of you that did not try to rip me off.
City buses: For making me realize government mandates on auto emissions is a good thing.
Quito: For not mugging me. You were a good host city to start my trip. May your auto emissions drop drastically soon.
Thanks to
Vane (and family): For looking out for me and making Quito so easy.
Coworker: For getting me set up. Or asking your girlfriend to get me set up.
Patricia: For patience above the call of duty during our Spanish classes.
Regina: For asking me if I wanted to hang out. And then continuing to hang out with me.
Lula: For all the beautiful views of Quito. And being patient with my Spanish.
Pauli: For keeping me connected to everyone.
Miguel: For not making fun of my dancing.
Day hostel manager: For speaking to me in Spanglish.
Obnoxious British kids: For reminding me why hostels are so much cheaper than hotels.
City cabs: The 8% of you that did not try to rip me off.
City buses: For making me realize government mandates on auto emissions is a good thing.
Quito: For not mugging me. You were a good host city to start my trip. May your auto emissions drop drastically soon.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I Ate Guinea Pig! Part Duex
Sunday morning I woke up, rolled over, and saw that the other four occupants of my dorm room were still fast asleep. I quietly got up and walked out to the hammock where I sketched my view and wrote notes about the previous day. Thirty minutes later my travel buddy came shuffling out looking for breakfast. We decided on the same roof top restaurant before. When we got there, the Brit from the night before was there and so we joined her. She was several bites into the double pancakes we had recommended earlier when we arrived, and just looking at her plate made me full. So I opt`d for the omlette. The really delicious omlette with lots of cheese. The three of us ate slowly, enjoyed the view, and discussed past and future travels. A good start to the morning.
The next step was to find the public pools. But since we had to check out at noon, first we needed to pack up. Back to the hostel we went, to collect bathing suits (or gym shorts and a sports bra for those of us that didn`t have a suit), and put our packs in storage. Storage was a small utility closet with an open door. I decided to take my small backpack with me and just leave my boots.
We walked to the park and asked around about the bus to the pools. Then we waited. And waited. There was plently of good people watching. And the covers of bootleg CDs being sold next to us provided plenty of entertainment. And just as we decided to take a cab, the bus rolled up. The decor was awesome. I love South America. I think the way it works in the smaller cities is there are no public buses, just people who own buses, make up a route, and pick people up. It`s really quite effecient. And the ride was only twenty cents. It was also really short. I asked the wife(?) of the driver to let us know when we arrived at the pools, and when she did, we got off. There was no site of a pool but there were several vendors selling bathing suits. So we walked on down the road assuming we were in the right place.
The public pool was everything a public pool should be: loud, dirty, and full of kids. And we were the only gringos there. Actually, there was another couple, but they left within five minutes of us arriving because it wasn`t what they expected. Where`s the sense of adventure? Studying the populace, we discovered there was a place to check our things. So that`s where we went. Ah, but first we need a large blue basket to put our things in. So back to the changing rooms where we found these baskets stacked in a corner. The changing rooms were just individual stalls with very little light and no doubt teaming with an obscene amount of bacteria. Cleaning them consisted of an attendant tossing a bucket of water inside each time some one stepped out.
We checked our things and made our way to one of the less crowded pools, but were stopped short by another attendant who said we needed to shower off first. Okay. This was an experience. I think this might be a bathing ritual for the locals. There were bars of soap, shampoo, people tugging at bathing suits - exposing more than needed be seen. And the scrubbing was intense. Whole families scrubbed each other down. I did a thorough rinse, taking much less time than everyone else, and headed back out to the pools. The pools were brown. They were luke warm. They seemed like petri dishes housing little Pink Eye microbes, and who knows what else. But in we went. We watched as one kid blew his nose directly into the pool. Since we could see nothing more than an inch or two below the surface, there was no telling what else he was putting in the water.
45 minutes of this was enough. Now I knew why there was such serious scrubbing in the showers. I was right there with them.
The changing stall was an experience as well. The attendant called me over to a stall that had just opened up. As I walked towards him, he doused the room with a bucket of water. Everything was soaked. Where do I put my dry stuff? Door closes, wait, I can`t see anything. Shit, just dropped my shirt in the puddle below. Jeans folded over my wet shoulder. Backpack is going to have to get wet. Screw it, everything is going to have to get wet. I`ll dry off in the sun. Back out in the open, I found my travel buddy and we exited into a light drizzle.
Back at the hostal a short time later we decided to chill for a bit in the lounge (we were checked out and had no room at this point) an let the rain pass. I grabbed a bear and we listened to a short recant of the previous night`s b-day outing. The newly-turned 19 year old Norwegian was looking rough. She said she was feeling worse than she looked. She later made her way to a hammock where she was still stretched out when we departed 2.5 hours later.
In the course of the conversation I mentioned I wanted to try guinea pig. The Canadian knew exactly where to go. And so, stomach feeling strong, off we went to find "Cuy". We found it. And it looked scary. We took the obligatory pics of the little guys being roasted on a grill and then strolled into the restaurant and confidently ordered a small portion. With more beer to wash it down just in case. A few minutes later out came our plate with the back end of a small rodent. We stared at it. Is that a claw? Oh good, here comes the beer.
It was oily. The skin was crispy. There wasn`t much meat. But it wasn`t bad. Mind you, it wasn`t good. But it wasn`t bad. And the eating the back end of the rodent was much easier than if I had gotten the front end like the guy at the next table holding the little guy buy his ears. Mission accomplished, we walked to the food market and ordered a real lunch. The best soup I have ever downed (complete with a large chunk of chicken - bones and all), rice, meat, salad, and mango juice for two: $3.
It was now 3:45 and time to grab our stuff and look for a bus. Walking into the bus lot, we were immediately accosted by someone asking where we were going. Quito. Here, get on this bus, now, it is leaving. Sweet. No wait. And we get the entire back row. Oops, forgot about picking people up along the way. So we shared the back row. Better than standing. Sweets were exchanged with the little boy beside us. The movie playing was End of the Spear. No one seemed interested in seeing white men killed by natives (thankfully). The bus ride wasn`t nearly as full going back as coming down. And we were even entertained by a little girl who ran up and down the aisle and pounced on my lap repeatedly. We asked her how old she was, she told us to wait a minute. She ran back to the front of the bus, asked her mom, then came back and reported she was 4 years old. We asked her name. It was a long one. We asked if she wanted to know our name. She said she knew our names. Really? You are la gringa and you are el gringo. Well, yes, I guess you`re right.
Photos of the trip can still be found here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603116749838/
The next step was to find the public pools. But since we had to check out at noon, first we needed to pack up. Back to the hostel we went, to collect bathing suits (or gym shorts and a sports bra for those of us that didn`t have a suit), and put our packs in storage. Storage was a small utility closet with an open door. I decided to take my small backpack with me and just leave my boots.
We walked to the park and asked around about the bus to the pools. Then we waited. And waited. There was plently of good people watching. And the covers of bootleg CDs being sold next to us provided plenty of entertainment. And just as we decided to take a cab, the bus rolled up. The decor was awesome. I love South America. I think the way it works in the smaller cities is there are no public buses, just people who own buses, make up a route, and pick people up. It`s really quite effecient. And the ride was only twenty cents. It was also really short. I asked the wife(?) of the driver to let us know when we arrived at the pools, and when she did, we got off. There was no site of a pool but there were several vendors selling bathing suits. So we walked on down the road assuming we were in the right place.
The public pool was everything a public pool should be: loud, dirty, and full of kids. And we were the only gringos there. Actually, there was another couple, but they left within five minutes of us arriving because it wasn`t what they expected. Where`s the sense of adventure? Studying the populace, we discovered there was a place to check our things. So that`s where we went. Ah, but first we need a large blue basket to put our things in. So back to the changing rooms where we found these baskets stacked in a corner. The changing rooms were just individual stalls with very little light and no doubt teaming with an obscene amount of bacteria. Cleaning them consisted of an attendant tossing a bucket of water inside each time some one stepped out.
We checked our things and made our way to one of the less crowded pools, but were stopped short by another attendant who said we needed to shower off first. Okay. This was an experience. I think this might be a bathing ritual for the locals. There were bars of soap, shampoo, people tugging at bathing suits - exposing more than needed be seen. And the scrubbing was intense. Whole families scrubbed each other down. I did a thorough rinse, taking much less time than everyone else, and headed back out to the pools. The pools were brown. They were luke warm. They seemed like petri dishes housing little Pink Eye microbes, and who knows what else. But in we went. We watched as one kid blew his nose directly into the pool. Since we could see nothing more than an inch or two below the surface, there was no telling what else he was putting in the water.
45 minutes of this was enough. Now I knew why there was such serious scrubbing in the showers. I was right there with them.
The changing stall was an experience as well. The attendant called me over to a stall that had just opened up. As I walked towards him, he doused the room with a bucket of water. Everything was soaked. Where do I put my dry stuff? Door closes, wait, I can`t see anything. Shit, just dropped my shirt in the puddle below. Jeans folded over my wet shoulder. Backpack is going to have to get wet. Screw it, everything is going to have to get wet. I`ll dry off in the sun. Back out in the open, I found my travel buddy and we exited into a light drizzle.
Back at the hostal a short time later we decided to chill for a bit in the lounge (we were checked out and had no room at this point) an let the rain pass. I grabbed a bear and we listened to a short recant of the previous night`s b-day outing. The newly-turned 19 year old Norwegian was looking rough. She said she was feeling worse than she looked. She later made her way to a hammock where she was still stretched out when we departed 2.5 hours later.
In the course of the conversation I mentioned I wanted to try guinea pig. The Canadian knew exactly where to go. And so, stomach feeling strong, off we went to find "Cuy". We found it. And it looked scary. We took the obligatory pics of the little guys being roasted on a grill and then strolled into the restaurant and confidently ordered a small portion. With more beer to wash it down just in case. A few minutes later out came our plate with the back end of a small rodent. We stared at it. Is that a claw? Oh good, here comes the beer.
It was oily. The skin was crispy. There wasn`t much meat. But it wasn`t bad. Mind you, it wasn`t good. But it wasn`t bad. And the eating the back end of the rodent was much easier than if I had gotten the front end like the guy at the next table holding the little guy buy his ears. Mission accomplished, we walked to the food market and ordered a real lunch. The best soup I have ever downed (complete with a large chunk of chicken - bones and all), rice, meat, salad, and mango juice for two: $3.
It was now 3:45 and time to grab our stuff and look for a bus. Walking into the bus lot, we were immediately accosted by someone asking where we were going. Quito. Here, get on this bus, now, it is leaving. Sweet. No wait. And we get the entire back row. Oops, forgot about picking people up along the way. So we shared the back row. Better than standing. Sweets were exchanged with the little boy beside us. The movie playing was End of the Spear. No one seemed interested in seeing white men killed by natives (thankfully). The bus ride wasn`t nearly as full going back as coming down. And we were even entertained by a little girl who ran up and down the aisle and pounced on my lap repeatedly. We asked her how old she was, she told us to wait a minute. She ran back to the front of the bus, asked her mom, then came back and reported she was 4 years old. We asked her name. It was a long one. We asked if she wanted to know our name. She said she knew our names. Really? You are la gringa and you are el gringo. Well, yes, I guess you`re right.
Photos of the trip can still be found here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603116749838/
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Help Readers!
Bright and early Friday morning I am leaving Quito to fly to the Galapagos Islands. I won´t be coming back to Quito; just flying to Guayaquil and eventually moving on to Peru. Today is my last Spanish class. I purposefully left one free day to do whatever I want before departing Quito.
Here is where you, the reader, come in. I need you opinion. Those of you who have made comments in the past, thanks and please comment again here. Those of you that are enjoying, or killing part of your work day, reading this blog but haven´t had anything to say yet in the comments section, now´s your chance.
There are three options for tomorrow.
A) I can explore Quito and see everything I have missed, including:
The teleferiQo, a sky tran that takes riders 2.5kms up Pichincha Volcano where I can then do a three hour hike to the summit at (4700m). Supposed to be a brilliant view of the city.
The Monastery of Santa Catalina, a convent for nuns, full of paintings depicting virgins and saints watching over the fires of purgatory with sinners stretched on spiked wheels and sheep drinking from a river of blood flowing from the wounds of Jesus.
A Salsa class. It has been mentioned before that I can not dance. I will have the instructor take pics.
Parque la Carolina, which houses an orchid greenhouse, botanical garden, and reptile museum.
And if time allowes, a hike to the top of the towers of the gothic church.
OR
B) I can go mountain biking down Cotopaxi Volcano (check earlier blogs/pics). This is an all-day deal.
OR
C) Go two hours north to Termas de Papallacta, ecuador´s most luxurious and scenic thermal baths. This is an all-day deal too.
So please vote with your comments. A day exploring Quito, a bike down a volcano, or a day at the thermal baths. And vote early. I have to book the bike ride before the end of the day. I will check responses around 4pm.
Thanks!
And, and part 2 of the Baños weekend is still coming.
Here is where you, the reader, come in. I need you opinion. Those of you who have made comments in the past, thanks and please comment again here. Those of you that are enjoying, or killing part of your work day, reading this blog but haven´t had anything to say yet in the comments section, now´s your chance.
There are three options for tomorrow.
A) I can explore Quito and see everything I have missed, including:
The teleferiQo, a sky tran that takes riders 2.5kms up Pichincha Volcano where I can then do a three hour hike to the summit at (4700m). Supposed to be a brilliant view of the city.
The Monastery of Santa Catalina, a convent for nuns, full of paintings depicting virgins and saints watching over the fires of purgatory with sinners stretched on spiked wheels and sheep drinking from a river of blood flowing from the wounds of Jesus.
A Salsa class. It has been mentioned before that I can not dance. I will have the instructor take pics.
Parque la Carolina, which houses an orchid greenhouse, botanical garden, and reptile museum.
And if time allowes, a hike to the top of the towers of the gothic church.
OR
B) I can go mountain biking down Cotopaxi Volcano (check earlier blogs/pics). This is an all-day deal.
OR
C) Go two hours north to Termas de Papallacta, ecuador´s most luxurious and scenic thermal baths. This is an all-day deal too.
So please vote with your comments. A day exploring Quito, a bike down a volcano, or a day at the thermal baths. And vote early. I have to book the bike ride before the end of the day. I will check responses around 4pm.
Thanks!
And, and part 2 of the Baños weekend is still coming.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
I Ate Guinea Pig! (and other things done in Baños).
The plan for this past weekend was to bus down to Baños with my coworker and his girlfriend. The plan changed.
Baños, a town about four hours south of Quito, is famous for its public (and apparently nicer private) baths heated by the local Volcano, and its proximity to the jungle. It is a tourist hotspot attracting both Ecuadorians and foreigners alike. I was looking forward to another weekend outside of the city.
I was informed on Thursday there was a good chance my coworker and his girlfriend would not be going down to Baños for the weekend. By Friday this was fact. I was determined to go regardless. And so, in the course of speaking to another backpacker at my hostel over breakfast, I discovered she too wanted to go to Baños for the weekend. And suddenly I had a travel buddy.
After my tour of Calle de Ronda, I trotted back to the hostel to pack up my things, put the large pack in storage, and find the other backpacker. Once all three were accomplished, we got a bit to eat and grabbed a taxi for the bus station. The large bus station in sketchville. It actually wasn`t too bad. But it was big, and we wandered cluelessly around trying to find a bus to Baños. With two tickets at $7 in hand, we walked through the security gate which cost us 25 cents each (like a 9-11 security fee at a U.S. airport, but not hidden) and out into the rain to wait. Here we met four American college girls who were studying at the local college. One was a student at Duke and was slighted for the rest of the time I chatted with them.
The bus ride began without much excitement. We were seated up front and the bus was relatively full. As the bus slowly made its way out of the station, we continued to gather more passengers. A man was stationed at the door, hanging out, calling out our destination and recruiting people who jogged towards the bus from every angle. This was routine for each small town we passed through. As we entered a town, the same guy would lean out the door or hop off and run along side the bus calling out our destination to prospective riders. Inbetween towns we passed lots of farm land. And with farm land comes lots of animals. Actually, without farm land comes lots of animals, as it wasn`t uncommon to see cows or chickens in the city. These cows and chickens greatly excited my travel buddy. Each time we passed a few, her nose would be pressed firmly to the window.
The excitement of farm animals eventually wore off leaving only truly remarkable sights to entice us to point. This included a cow wrapped in plastic (to keep him dry?) and a man seemingly spying on the road from behind a mound close by. Upon further inspection it was concluded he was not crouched there to spy, but rather to um....shed some weight. He was not the only one we saw doing this as we headed south.
We continued to gather riders in each new town and eventually the bus was packed. People filled the aisle and pretty much any free space on the bus. For some time there was a woman hovering so close to me, it looked as though she was breast-feeding me. This was preferable to the point, some time later, when I had a man`s crotch was thrust into my face during a sudden brake. We thankfully arrived 20 minutes later in Baños and I bound from the bus to stretch and breathe fresh air.
We gathered ourselves together and decided the first thing to do was to find a restaurant that was recommended to my new travel partner. There we made a call to a hostel looking for and finding a free room. There we also chowed down on the best meal I had had to date: marinated trout with rice, steamed carrots, and beans. And a large beer. I needed one after that bus ride. Bellies full, we made our way to our new home for the next two nights. Our room had two sets of bunk beds and one extra twin in the center. And it was all ours. With the middle bed used to empty our packs, we clamied our seperate bunks and went off in search of the so-called bar district. The bar district provided three bars to choose from. Since one of them had karaoke, the choices were really only two. We chose the one with the better music and ordered two gin & tonics. Suddenly remembering the ice in our drinks was probably from the tap, we forced down our drinks warm and sans ice. The second floor had a large open window stretching the length of the bar and there we perched while commenting on the activity outside. Aside from two girls posing for a camera and a creepy guy watching them, there was little to keep us entertained, and after a couple of hours we made our way back to the hostal. I passed out immediately.
Saturday morning I woke again and again to the sounds of a rooster. When I walked out to see what Baños looked like in the day light, I found we were surrounded by lush mountains. The public pools would have to wait, I wanted to go hiking. Actually, hiking would have to wait too, I was starving. In looking for our hostal, we found another one which advertised a roof top restaurant and a great breakfast. Lonely Planet concured that the breakfast was good, and thus to the roof we marched. The view was great. The food was better. We both ordered the Double Pancakes with fruit and sugar cane syrup. Best breakfast to date (a trend was being set) and impossible to finish. But not from lack of trying.
Bellies full yet again, we went back to the hostal to gather shoes suitable for hiking and found our room`s occupancy had increased by two. Two German gals, volunteering with kids in Ecuador, were now sharing our room. We said hellos and quickly went off start our hike.
The path led straight up the mountain. And I got winded fast. When I caught sight of two much older, British women making their way up the path ahead of us, I sucked it up and moved forward. The altitude was hard on the lungs, but probably good practice for the upcoming hike to Manchu Picchu. At least that was the encouragement I heard from my travel buddy a few steps behind, but cleary in better shape. As we ascended the mountain there were several places to stop and look back down on the city. I utilized these stops to the fullest extent I could to catch my breath. Manchu Picchu is going to kick my arse.
A quaint hotel/spa with beautiful pools looking over beautiful views seemed to be the destination of our chosen path. But in speaking with a laborer, we learned another trail continued on to a peak from which to view the volcano. And on we went. Along the way we passed several indigenous farms until the path crossed right through one. This is where we found an Austrian couple chilling at a crude table, eating jam and bread, surrounded my chickens and a few dogs. We stopped to chat and were told they were on their way down from the peak when the woman (who was attending a child behind them) there offered them some food and a chance to rest. So we rested too. I chatted up the Austrian dude, while the woman pointed out various flowers to my travel buddy. Her kids played with what at first appeared to be a dead kitten. Thankfully, it sprang to action. That would have been really sad.
We heard the volcano rumble again and excused ourselves to continue our hike. A short while later we were at a peak where a cow tender was just hanging out. He pointed to a group of clouds and said this was the volcano we were looking for. We nodded and went about looking the other way at the other views from the peak. Then another rumble. We looked back to see a large plume of smoke rising from above the clouds. Oh, so that is the volcano. Old man, you are now our friend. This happens regularly I hope? Yes, it blows large plumes of smoke every day. Sounds safe enough. We plopped down and watched the spectacle for the next 45 minutes, hoping the clouds would disappear. They didn`t. But plumes of smoke continued to raise above the clouds. Good enough. He told us the clouds would blow away by 3, 4, 5 o`clock. We didn`t want to wait. It was 1:20. He suggested a trail down the other side of the mountain where we could see the volcano from the base. We thanked him and went looking for it. He left with the two Austrians, who had come back to the peak, large machete in hand. We never saw them again.
The path was narrow and looked like it had not been used in years. It also went almost straight down the mountain. At several points we ran down to keep from sliding, crashing into various small trees to stop us. Where the hell were we going? Was this a trail to a bunch of angry, machete-wielding cow herders waiting to rob us? We kept moving, despite the new found pain in our knees and ankles, and ignoring the thoughts of large spiders and snakes hidden near our feet. 20 minutes later we could see the town again. We looked back up. Had we really come that far down in 20 minutes? Ouch, my toes. A few minutes later we saw the large seated Virgin statue that watched over the city, just ahead. On we marched. And slid.
The Virgin statue started a long concrete stairway leading down to the town. Steps were a taken with more confidence and a short time later we were back in town. And extremely hungry. I smelled like most of the people leaning over me on the bus down, but decided a shower could wait. It was time for lunch. So at 3:30pm we found a restaurant and order a large meal. The best lunch I have had to date (the trend continues). A smoothie washed down my mango chicken, rice, veggies, and garlic bread (mmmm...garlic bread) and then a cookie followed that. And then a nap followed the cookie. I love hammocks.
I think there were plans to go out that night. And plans looked like they might move that way when I met the large group of volunteers from different countries in the lounge, all planning to go out for a 19th birthday. But my butt never left the plastic chair in the lounge area except to get a grande beer from the fridge. We chatted up a new arrival from Britain traveling through S Amercia for 3 months before starting a new job in Canada. And at 11pm, I happily went to my bed, turned on my iPod, and fell asleep before first song ended.
Tomorrow: Our last day in Baños. And the eating of the guinea pig.
For pictures of the weekend, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603116749838/
Baños, a town about four hours south of Quito, is famous for its public (and apparently nicer private) baths heated by the local Volcano, and its proximity to the jungle. It is a tourist hotspot attracting both Ecuadorians and foreigners alike. I was looking forward to another weekend outside of the city.
I was informed on Thursday there was a good chance my coworker and his girlfriend would not be going down to Baños for the weekend. By Friday this was fact. I was determined to go regardless. And so, in the course of speaking to another backpacker at my hostel over breakfast, I discovered she too wanted to go to Baños for the weekend. And suddenly I had a travel buddy.
After my tour of Calle de Ronda, I trotted back to the hostel to pack up my things, put the large pack in storage, and find the other backpacker. Once all three were accomplished, we got a bit to eat and grabbed a taxi for the bus station. The large bus station in sketchville. It actually wasn`t too bad. But it was big, and we wandered cluelessly around trying to find a bus to Baños. With two tickets at $7 in hand, we walked through the security gate which cost us 25 cents each (like a 9-11 security fee at a U.S. airport, but not hidden) and out into the rain to wait. Here we met four American college girls who were studying at the local college. One was a student at Duke and was slighted for the rest of the time I chatted with them.
The bus ride began without much excitement. We were seated up front and the bus was relatively full. As the bus slowly made its way out of the station, we continued to gather more passengers. A man was stationed at the door, hanging out, calling out our destination and recruiting people who jogged towards the bus from every angle. This was routine for each small town we passed through. As we entered a town, the same guy would lean out the door or hop off and run along side the bus calling out our destination to prospective riders. Inbetween towns we passed lots of farm land. And with farm land comes lots of animals. Actually, without farm land comes lots of animals, as it wasn`t uncommon to see cows or chickens in the city. These cows and chickens greatly excited my travel buddy. Each time we passed a few, her nose would be pressed firmly to the window.
The excitement of farm animals eventually wore off leaving only truly remarkable sights to entice us to point. This included a cow wrapped in plastic (to keep him dry?) and a man seemingly spying on the road from behind a mound close by. Upon further inspection it was concluded he was not crouched there to spy, but rather to um....shed some weight. He was not the only one we saw doing this as we headed south.
We continued to gather riders in each new town and eventually the bus was packed. People filled the aisle and pretty much any free space on the bus. For some time there was a woman hovering so close to me, it looked as though she was breast-feeding me. This was preferable to the point, some time later, when I had a man`s crotch was thrust into my face during a sudden brake. We thankfully arrived 20 minutes later in Baños and I bound from the bus to stretch and breathe fresh air.
We gathered ourselves together and decided the first thing to do was to find a restaurant that was recommended to my new travel partner. There we made a call to a hostel looking for and finding a free room. There we also chowed down on the best meal I had had to date: marinated trout with rice, steamed carrots, and beans. And a large beer. I needed one after that bus ride. Bellies full, we made our way to our new home for the next two nights. Our room had two sets of bunk beds and one extra twin in the center. And it was all ours. With the middle bed used to empty our packs, we clamied our seperate bunks and went off in search of the so-called bar district. The bar district provided three bars to choose from. Since one of them had karaoke, the choices were really only two. We chose the one with the better music and ordered two gin & tonics. Suddenly remembering the ice in our drinks was probably from the tap, we forced down our drinks warm and sans ice. The second floor had a large open window stretching the length of the bar and there we perched while commenting on the activity outside. Aside from two girls posing for a camera and a creepy guy watching them, there was little to keep us entertained, and after a couple of hours we made our way back to the hostal. I passed out immediately.
Saturday morning I woke again and again to the sounds of a rooster. When I walked out to see what Baños looked like in the day light, I found we were surrounded by lush mountains. The public pools would have to wait, I wanted to go hiking. Actually, hiking would have to wait too, I was starving. In looking for our hostal, we found another one which advertised a roof top restaurant and a great breakfast. Lonely Planet concured that the breakfast was good, and thus to the roof we marched. The view was great. The food was better. We both ordered the Double Pancakes with fruit and sugar cane syrup. Best breakfast to date (a trend was being set) and impossible to finish. But not from lack of trying.
Bellies full yet again, we went back to the hostal to gather shoes suitable for hiking and found our room`s occupancy had increased by two. Two German gals, volunteering with kids in Ecuador, were now sharing our room. We said hellos and quickly went off start our hike.
The path led straight up the mountain. And I got winded fast. When I caught sight of two much older, British women making their way up the path ahead of us, I sucked it up and moved forward. The altitude was hard on the lungs, but probably good practice for the upcoming hike to Manchu Picchu. At least that was the encouragement I heard from my travel buddy a few steps behind, but cleary in better shape. As we ascended the mountain there were several places to stop and look back down on the city. I utilized these stops to the fullest extent I could to catch my breath. Manchu Picchu is going to kick my arse.
A quaint hotel/spa with beautiful pools looking over beautiful views seemed to be the destination of our chosen path. But in speaking with a laborer, we learned another trail continued on to a peak from which to view the volcano. And on we went. Along the way we passed several indigenous farms until the path crossed right through one. This is where we found an Austrian couple chilling at a crude table, eating jam and bread, surrounded my chickens and a few dogs. We stopped to chat and were told they were on their way down from the peak when the woman (who was attending a child behind them) there offered them some food and a chance to rest. So we rested too. I chatted up the Austrian dude, while the woman pointed out various flowers to my travel buddy. Her kids played with what at first appeared to be a dead kitten. Thankfully, it sprang to action. That would have been really sad.
We heard the volcano rumble again and excused ourselves to continue our hike. A short while later we were at a peak where a cow tender was just hanging out. He pointed to a group of clouds and said this was the volcano we were looking for. We nodded and went about looking the other way at the other views from the peak. Then another rumble. We looked back to see a large plume of smoke rising from above the clouds. Oh, so that is the volcano. Old man, you are now our friend. This happens regularly I hope? Yes, it blows large plumes of smoke every day. Sounds safe enough. We plopped down and watched the spectacle for the next 45 minutes, hoping the clouds would disappear. They didn`t. But plumes of smoke continued to raise above the clouds. Good enough. He told us the clouds would blow away by 3, 4, 5 o`clock. We didn`t want to wait. It was 1:20. He suggested a trail down the other side of the mountain where we could see the volcano from the base. We thanked him and went looking for it. He left with the two Austrians, who had come back to the peak, large machete in hand. We never saw them again.
The path was narrow and looked like it had not been used in years. It also went almost straight down the mountain. At several points we ran down to keep from sliding, crashing into various small trees to stop us. Where the hell were we going? Was this a trail to a bunch of angry, machete-wielding cow herders waiting to rob us? We kept moving, despite the new found pain in our knees and ankles, and ignoring the thoughts of large spiders and snakes hidden near our feet. 20 minutes later we could see the town again. We looked back up. Had we really come that far down in 20 minutes? Ouch, my toes. A few minutes later we saw the large seated Virgin statue that watched over the city, just ahead. On we marched. And slid.
The Virgin statue started a long concrete stairway leading down to the town. Steps were a taken with more confidence and a short time later we were back in town. And extremely hungry. I smelled like most of the people leaning over me on the bus down, but decided a shower could wait. It was time for lunch. So at 3:30pm we found a restaurant and order a large meal. The best lunch I have had to date (the trend continues). A smoothie washed down my mango chicken, rice, veggies, and garlic bread (mmmm...garlic bread) and then a cookie followed that. And then a nap followed the cookie. I love hammocks.
I think there were plans to go out that night. And plans looked like they might move that way when I met the large group of volunteers from different countries in the lounge, all planning to go out for a 19th birthday. But my butt never left the plastic chair in the lounge area except to get a grande beer from the fridge. We chatted up a new arrival from Britain traveling through S Amercia for 3 months before starting a new job in Canada. And at 11pm, I happily went to my bed, turned on my iPod, and fell asleep before first song ended.
Tomorrow: Our last day in Baños. And the eating of the guinea pig.
For pictures of the weekend, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603116749838/
Monday, November 12, 2007
Distractions
My Spanish class is every week day from 9am until 1pm. That is a long time to sit still and learn conjugations. And afterwards I am usually doing home work for another 1-2 hours. The school takes pity on its students every Friday and offers field trips around the city. During these field trips we are expected to speak in only Spanish, and everything is explained in Spanish. It would be helpful to have a translator too. But practicing the language is more important than learning about Ecuador`s history and culture. Or so it seems.
This past friday there were two options for field trips: The Panacia (the hill with the large Virgin statue on top) which I had already seen, or a walk through Calle de Ronda. The Calle de Ronda (Ronda Street) is located in the old town, but I missed it while I was there earlier in the week. So that was my choice.
We sat down for two hours of class before the field trip. As my professor started to go over the previous day´s homework, I heard loud music pumping from what sounded like a telephone speaker. But from outside. I went to the balcony to investigate and found a parade. A large parade. Full of kids dressed up in various costumes. Some dressed in indigenous costume, some dressed as figure skaters (without the skates), others dressed in random costumes like princesses or spideman. The parade was in honor of some group that helped the community, but I got no further info on what exactly they were all about. So, along with a crowd of about four other students and a teacher, I stood on the balcony and watched the procession. It lasted a good 20 minutes and was really entertaining. Especially watching the "figure skaters" dance down the street in their purple tights. An adult followed them and poured water from a bottle on their little heads as they shook and twisted. Wasn´t a girl among them. Poor guys.
After that fun distraction, I went back to conjugating for the next hour and half. At 11am it was time for our tour. "Our" meaning a French girl and myself. Everyone else was opting for the Panecia. The two of us followed our respective teachers to the bus stop for our ride to the Old Town. The bus ride is either to keep the field trip on the cheap or to broaden our cultural experience. I told myself it was the later since we had to pay our own bus fare.
The bus ride gave me the opportunity to practice my Spanish with another professor, whether I wanted to or not. But it was helpful. I sat with the French gal´s professor and he immediately started telling stories about being underestimated when his "gang" gets into street fights. Uh.... Turns out he was/is a boxer (didn´t quite get the right tense of verb he used), and although he is short - maybe 5´3" - he is a "grande" fighter and is able to take down guys twice his size. I kept a watchful eye on him for the rest of the tour to make sure he didn´t go looking for a fight, expecting me to back him up.
The tour down Calle de Ronda was interesting. Probably would have been more so had I understood more than half of what I was told about the history of the street. This is what I managed to gather: It´s old. It´s touristy. Cars are not allowed to drive on it. It is very Spanish-esque. No one lives on the street, only businesses and organizations. You can buy several combinations of fruit and/or veggie juices. Souvineers too. It is a patriotic street. Quito has its own flag which hangs proudly next to Ecuador´s above almost every door.
We also made our way into a gallery that housed lots of children´s work. At least it all looked like children´s work. I am certain three of the rooms contained art work by children because ages were listed by each piece. Ages weren´t listed by the work in the other two rooms, but I am assuming theses pieces were done by kids. The gallery contained original colonial floors (these rooms were very cold) and there was a public restroom area which years ago served as some sort of community cooking area. This is where the translation got way lost. The story included info about how the people were able to feed ever-growing groups of people. But I didn´t get why they were feeding others or why they stopped. Maybe if I took another week of class. The French student was getting all of this and asking lots of questions. My teacher seemed mildly disappointed in me.
Regardless, the street was serious eye candy and a nice distraction from actual class studies. I took a ridiculous amount of pictures. During the ride back, I felt nostalgic for my daily commute on DC´s metro. We were riding in the middle of the lunch break and I was shuffled back and forth at each stop. The ride was interrupted half way by the piercing screams of a child as the doors closed on him at one stop. Unlike DC´s metro, the doors don´t automatically open again. And the entire back half of the bus started yelling at the bus driver. The doors eventually opened but the crying didn´t stop. 10 minutes later I was squeezed off the bus at our stop. I bid farewell to my teacher and headed to my hostel to pack for a weekend in Baños. Story and pics to come.
For pics of this story, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603097020286/
This past friday there were two options for field trips: The Panacia (the hill with the large Virgin statue on top) which I had already seen, or a walk through Calle de Ronda. The Calle de Ronda (Ronda Street) is located in the old town, but I missed it while I was there earlier in the week. So that was my choice.
We sat down for two hours of class before the field trip. As my professor started to go over the previous day´s homework, I heard loud music pumping from what sounded like a telephone speaker. But from outside. I went to the balcony to investigate and found a parade. A large parade. Full of kids dressed up in various costumes. Some dressed in indigenous costume, some dressed as figure skaters (without the skates), others dressed in random costumes like princesses or spideman. The parade was in honor of some group that helped the community, but I got no further info on what exactly they were all about. So, along with a crowd of about four other students and a teacher, I stood on the balcony and watched the procession. It lasted a good 20 minutes and was really entertaining. Especially watching the "figure skaters" dance down the street in their purple tights. An adult followed them and poured water from a bottle on their little heads as they shook and twisted. Wasn´t a girl among them. Poor guys.
After that fun distraction, I went back to conjugating for the next hour and half. At 11am it was time for our tour. "Our" meaning a French girl and myself. Everyone else was opting for the Panecia. The two of us followed our respective teachers to the bus stop for our ride to the Old Town. The bus ride is either to keep the field trip on the cheap or to broaden our cultural experience. I told myself it was the later since we had to pay our own bus fare.
The bus ride gave me the opportunity to practice my Spanish with another professor, whether I wanted to or not. But it was helpful. I sat with the French gal´s professor and he immediately started telling stories about being underestimated when his "gang" gets into street fights. Uh.... Turns out he was/is a boxer (didn´t quite get the right tense of verb he used), and although he is short - maybe 5´3" - he is a "grande" fighter and is able to take down guys twice his size. I kept a watchful eye on him for the rest of the tour to make sure he didn´t go looking for a fight, expecting me to back him up.
The tour down Calle de Ronda was interesting. Probably would have been more so had I understood more than half of what I was told about the history of the street. This is what I managed to gather: It´s old. It´s touristy. Cars are not allowed to drive on it. It is very Spanish-esque. No one lives on the street, only businesses and organizations. You can buy several combinations of fruit and/or veggie juices. Souvineers too. It is a patriotic street. Quito has its own flag which hangs proudly next to Ecuador´s above almost every door.
We also made our way into a gallery that housed lots of children´s work. At least it all looked like children´s work. I am certain three of the rooms contained art work by children because ages were listed by each piece. Ages weren´t listed by the work in the other two rooms, but I am assuming theses pieces were done by kids. The gallery contained original colonial floors (these rooms were very cold) and there was a public restroom area which years ago served as some sort of community cooking area. This is where the translation got way lost. The story included info about how the people were able to feed ever-growing groups of people. But I didn´t get why they were feeding others or why they stopped. Maybe if I took another week of class. The French student was getting all of this and asking lots of questions. My teacher seemed mildly disappointed in me.
Regardless, the street was serious eye candy and a nice distraction from actual class studies. I took a ridiculous amount of pictures. During the ride back, I felt nostalgic for my daily commute on DC´s metro. We were riding in the middle of the lunch break and I was shuffled back and forth at each stop. The ride was interrupted half way by the piercing screams of a child as the doors closed on him at one stop. Unlike DC´s metro, the doors don´t automatically open again. And the entire back half of the bus started yelling at the bus driver. The doors eventually opened but the crying didn´t stop. 10 minutes later I was squeezed off the bus at our stop. I bid farewell to my teacher and headed to my hostel to pack for a weekend in Baños. Story and pics to come.
For pics of this story, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603097020286/
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Too Many Mojitos
My day after spanish class on Wednesday
1-2:30pm: Cyber Cafe writing Blog enteries, 2 grande cervezas, e-mailing friends.
1:55-2:00pm: Wait in bathroom for a stall to open in order to relieve myself of grande beer. Never opens. Return to email.
2:30pm: Return to bathroom where stalls are still locked. Wait for 8 minutes while doing a little restraint dance. Look under stalls, no shoes. Ask employee outside what's up. Bathroom is out of order. A notice of some kind might be in order.
2:45: Meet coworker at hostel. He presents me with a box of five Cubans. Finally, a decent cigar.
2:55: Walk to Coffee Tree, a popular outdoor coffee bar/restaurant/bar in the plaza by my hostel. Sit by heat lamp, order coffee and big sandwich. Light up a Cuban.
3:40: Starts to rain. Decide to stick around and order a mojito.
4:20: Still raining. Order another mojito. Still enjoying cigar.
5:30: Call from coworker's girlfriend. She is coming to meet us before her class. Order another mojito.
6:25: Coworker's girlfriend arrives. Wish her a happy post-birthday.
6:40: Order another round of mojitos.
7:30: Coworker and girlfriend leave me solo as they ride in taxi to her school. Order another mojito. Scan the crowd. Crowd seems funny. Should I light up another Cuban? Maybe not, throat is sore.
7:50: Text coworker asking where he is.
7:59: Receive text saying he is almost here: order more mojitos.
8:01: Flag down server. Order another round of mojitos.
8:05: Coworker returns. Conversation is noticibly dumbed down. Patrons are mocked in private. At least we think we are whispring. Time for another Cuban. Need to go to the bathroom. Tables seem much harder to navigate. I should skip class tomorrow and go bungee jumping. Do they do that in Quito? Coworker is coolest guy ever. The thought is reciprocated. Ecuador is awesome. We should open a design business here. We could be thousandaires.
9:15: Coworker's girlfriend calls. Class is over. Coworker gets a cab to go meet her. Stumble back to hostel. What's on in the lounge? Large group of British kids are watching Borat. Funny movie. Americans are so silly. Wait, British people are silly too. Oh, you agree? OK, we are friends.
10pm: Movie ends. I will upload latest pics. Hold on, room is spinning. Focus. Get to cybercafe. Can't hook up camera. Maybe a different computer? Bump some one on way to other computer. Think he is drunk too. Camera works now. Did I take these photos? Room is really spinning.
10:40: Turn off camera. Pay bill. Oops, only have 50 cents. Wait, ATM is outside. Return with lots of money. Tab is 50 cents. Oh, did not need ATM. OK, think I need to go to bed.
10:55: Passed out.
1-2:30pm: Cyber Cafe writing Blog enteries, 2 grande cervezas, e-mailing friends.
1:55-2:00pm: Wait in bathroom for a stall to open in order to relieve myself of grande beer. Never opens. Return to email.
2:30pm: Return to bathroom where stalls are still locked. Wait for 8 minutes while doing a little restraint dance. Look under stalls, no shoes. Ask employee outside what's up. Bathroom is out of order. A notice of some kind might be in order.
2:45: Meet coworker at hostel. He presents me with a box of five Cubans. Finally, a decent cigar.
2:55: Walk to Coffee Tree, a popular outdoor coffee bar/restaurant/bar in the plaza by my hostel. Sit by heat lamp, order coffee and big sandwich. Light up a Cuban.
3:40: Starts to rain. Decide to stick around and order a mojito.
4:20: Still raining. Order another mojito. Still enjoying cigar.
5:30: Call from coworker's girlfriend. She is coming to meet us before her class. Order another mojito.
6:25: Coworker's girlfriend arrives. Wish her a happy post-birthday.
6:40: Order another round of mojitos.
7:30: Coworker and girlfriend leave me solo as they ride in taxi to her school. Order another mojito. Scan the crowd. Crowd seems funny. Should I light up another Cuban? Maybe not, throat is sore.
7:50: Text coworker asking where he is.
7:59: Receive text saying he is almost here: order more mojitos.
8:01: Flag down server. Order another round of mojitos.
8:05: Coworker returns. Conversation is noticibly dumbed down. Patrons are mocked in private. At least we think we are whispring. Time for another Cuban. Need to go to the bathroom. Tables seem much harder to navigate. I should skip class tomorrow and go bungee jumping. Do they do that in Quito? Coworker is coolest guy ever. The thought is reciprocated. Ecuador is awesome. We should open a design business here. We could be thousandaires.
9:15: Coworker's girlfriend calls. Class is over. Coworker gets a cab to go meet her. Stumble back to hostel. What's on in the lounge? Large group of British kids are watching Borat. Funny movie. Americans are so silly. Wait, British people are silly too. Oh, you agree? OK, we are friends.
10pm: Movie ends. I will upload latest pics. Hold on, room is spinning. Focus. Get to cybercafe. Can't hook up camera. Maybe a different computer? Bump some one on way to other computer. Think he is drunk too. Camera works now. Did I take these photos? Room is really spinning.
10:40: Turn off camera. Pay bill. Oops, only have 50 cents. Wait, ATM is outside. Return with lots of money. Tab is 50 cents. Oh, did not need ATM. OK, think I need to go to bed.
10:55: Passed out.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Four Cabs, Four Churches, and Jackie Brown
I managed to see much more of Quito than I expected to on Tuesday. After class I was to meet one of the hosts for lunch in what is called Quicentro. I thought it would be cool to see a differnt part of the city, where ever it was, and so I hopped in a cab and told the cabbie to take me to Quicentro. I had no idea where Quicentro was, so as he drove me in the opposite direction from my destination, I just sat back and enjoyed the view. After much back and forth about where exactly he was to drop me off, I ended up in front of a pharmacy on the other side of town from where I wanted to go. I still didn´t know I was in the wrong section of town and so I texted my lunch buddy the crossroads where I was standing so she could find me.
30 seconds later I got a call. Where those two streets meet is in El Centro. Not in Quicentro. Oh. Where is Quicentro? Other side of town. So I hailed a taxi and asked to go to Quicentro. This time I emphasized the QUI in Quicentro. Along the way my cab driver peppered me with questions in Spanish. When it was made clear I was a tourist who had no idea where he was going, I remembered to look for his meter. He never turned it on. Or he turned it off along the way. So instead of a $3 ride, it was $5. This is a big difference here. But he got me to where I needed to be and I gladly paid him the $5.
Where he dropped me off was a mall. Lunch was in the food court. And apparently at mall food courts, the prices are similar to U.S. mall food courts. So a bland sandwich, a coke, and two cab rides later I was down $15. And my host only had an hour lunch break, which was now down to 15 minutes. So we chatted as best we could for 15 minutes before heading back out front so I could find another cab.
I had planned to see Quito´s large cultural museum near El Centro, which, I was just informed, was back where I was taken the first time. I told the cabbie to take me to el Banco Museo. The confused look on his face should have been a warning. I ignored it thinking every cabbie would know the main museum. Bad idea. 20 minutes later we stopped in front of a banco museo; one that had a collection of coins. Wrong museum. I realzied this as he pulled off. But I was now square in the middle of the city´s Old Town, another area I had wanted to see this week. And so I went exploring.
Right next door to the museum o´coins was La Compañia de Jesus, Ecuador´s most ornate church. There was a $2 entrance fee, and in discovering this, the people collecting money discovered I needed an English speaking guide. Since I was the only one there, I had a personal tour. Construction on the church began in 1605 and ended 163 years later. It´s that ornate. Over 7 tons of gold were used to cover the interior (it is remarkable shiny). And there was a fire 11 years ago that did quite a bit of damage to one corner of the church. This area has been repaired but it looks about 250 years shinier. Unfortunately for those of you looking at my photos, no photography was allowed in any of the churches. My guide asked where I had been and offered suggestions on where to go next. I asked for sites that didn´t require a taxi.
And so after my tour I walked one block up to the San Fransico Monastary & Plaza, The city´s largest colonial structure and oldest church (building started in 1524). It was impressive. When I heard the thunder clap and the rain started falling, I decided to buy a ticket to check out the religious relics inside. It was creepy. If you did not know, Jesus died for your sins. And according to these Spanish artists, he died an extremely painful death. He was also very pale. I am darker skinned than these depictions. The museum was full of crusifixes and bloodied saviors. And with only half the lights on and and the thunderstorm outside, I wanted to get it over with quickly. So, after 20 minutes I called it quits and decided to wait out the rain on the terrace out front with a great view of the city.
When the rain didn´t let up, I decided to grab un umbrella from one of the vendors on the street who were selling them for $1 (it broke 2 hours later), and off I went walking around the colonial neighborhood. I took a quick peak inside another church one block over, then a stroll past the Presidential Plaza and the Plaza de la Independencia (the city´s central plaza). I discovered that if one needs an amatuer guide in this city, just whip out your camera. They will find you. After shielding off three of these "guides" by telling them I was a student with no money, I went walking towards the the large gothic church that towered above the compact rows of buildings in the Old Town. As old as the Basilica del Voto National looked, it was actually built in 1923. And it was closed to tours for the day. But I did manage to find an open door on the side to slip in and take a peak. The ceiling leaked during the rain, there was a large puddle by the pews. And it was very dark. So after a few minutes, I was back on the streets.
I walked aimlessly through the colonial streets, trying to take in the area that makes Quito unique. Aside from the rain, it really was nice. Lots of shops and churches and restaurants, but in old, beautiful buildings. Much better than my neighborhood. I walked for about an hour before my jeans were soaked up to my shins. Eventually I noticed I was out of the colonial area and into a business district. In fact, I could now see the museum I had wanted to tour. Having no real clue as to where I was or if I was walking towards home, I thought it best to find a cab. I found several of them in the distance, but each time I got to the area where I saw them, they had all disappeared. This stalking continued for another 20 minutes as I made my way further and further into an area of Quito I didn´t know. Finally a cabbie took pity on me (it was pretty obvious I was not in my element) and pulled up to see if I needed a ride. This was the cheapest cab I had all day. $1.42 all the way back to my hostel. I so got ripped off earlier. Or I just managed to walk that far.
Back at the hostel I got a call from my coworker. He needed to kill some time while his girlfriend was in class. And so we walked in the rain to an outdoor (but covered!) coffee/bar/restaurant around the corner. There we sipped tea, ate finger foods and felt very effeminate. When his girlfriend called a short time later we jumped up and quickly looked for a taxi to go pick her up. We ended the night at the artsy bar the gals took me to the week before. My coworker was impressed. I was just happy to be out of the rain and sitting by a fire place.
We all hopped in cab a bit later and they dropped me at my hostel. I was in no mood to do my homework nor call it a night just yet, so I popped into the lounge to see what was on the tele. A backpacker from Cali was hanging out playing with the hostel dog. She pointed to the notebook with the movie listings when I asked what was on for the night. Out of a couple hundred titles, Jackie Brown was the winner. And so, for the next three hours I lounged on the couch and I enjoyed the movie soundtrack (the actual movie is pretty bad). A pretty chill ending to a busy day.
For pics of the day, follow this link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157602997913034/
30 seconds later I got a call. Where those two streets meet is in El Centro. Not in Quicentro. Oh. Where is Quicentro? Other side of town. So I hailed a taxi and asked to go to Quicentro. This time I emphasized the QUI in Quicentro. Along the way my cab driver peppered me with questions in Spanish. When it was made clear I was a tourist who had no idea where he was going, I remembered to look for his meter. He never turned it on. Or he turned it off along the way. So instead of a $3 ride, it was $5. This is a big difference here. But he got me to where I needed to be and I gladly paid him the $5.
Where he dropped me off was a mall. Lunch was in the food court. And apparently at mall food courts, the prices are similar to U.S. mall food courts. So a bland sandwich, a coke, and two cab rides later I was down $15. And my host only had an hour lunch break, which was now down to 15 minutes. So we chatted as best we could for 15 minutes before heading back out front so I could find another cab.
I had planned to see Quito´s large cultural museum near El Centro, which, I was just informed, was back where I was taken the first time. I told the cabbie to take me to el Banco Museo. The confused look on his face should have been a warning. I ignored it thinking every cabbie would know the main museum. Bad idea. 20 minutes later we stopped in front of a banco museo; one that had a collection of coins. Wrong museum. I realzied this as he pulled off. But I was now square in the middle of the city´s Old Town, another area I had wanted to see this week. And so I went exploring.
Right next door to the museum o´coins was La Compañia de Jesus, Ecuador´s most ornate church. There was a $2 entrance fee, and in discovering this, the people collecting money discovered I needed an English speaking guide. Since I was the only one there, I had a personal tour. Construction on the church began in 1605 and ended 163 years later. It´s that ornate. Over 7 tons of gold were used to cover the interior (it is remarkable shiny). And there was a fire 11 years ago that did quite a bit of damage to one corner of the church. This area has been repaired but it looks about 250 years shinier. Unfortunately for those of you looking at my photos, no photography was allowed in any of the churches. My guide asked where I had been and offered suggestions on where to go next. I asked for sites that didn´t require a taxi.
And so after my tour I walked one block up to the San Fransico Monastary & Plaza, The city´s largest colonial structure and oldest church (building started in 1524). It was impressive. When I heard the thunder clap and the rain started falling, I decided to buy a ticket to check out the religious relics inside. It was creepy. If you did not know, Jesus died for your sins. And according to these Spanish artists, he died an extremely painful death. He was also very pale. I am darker skinned than these depictions. The museum was full of crusifixes and bloodied saviors. And with only half the lights on and and the thunderstorm outside, I wanted to get it over with quickly. So, after 20 minutes I called it quits and decided to wait out the rain on the terrace out front with a great view of the city.
When the rain didn´t let up, I decided to grab un umbrella from one of the vendors on the street who were selling them for $1 (it broke 2 hours later), and off I went walking around the colonial neighborhood. I took a quick peak inside another church one block over, then a stroll past the Presidential Plaza and the Plaza de la Independencia (the city´s central plaza). I discovered that if one needs an amatuer guide in this city, just whip out your camera. They will find you. After shielding off three of these "guides" by telling them I was a student with no money, I went walking towards the the large gothic church that towered above the compact rows of buildings in the Old Town. As old as the Basilica del Voto National looked, it was actually built in 1923. And it was closed to tours for the day. But I did manage to find an open door on the side to slip in and take a peak. The ceiling leaked during the rain, there was a large puddle by the pews. And it was very dark. So after a few minutes, I was back on the streets.
I walked aimlessly through the colonial streets, trying to take in the area that makes Quito unique. Aside from the rain, it really was nice. Lots of shops and churches and restaurants, but in old, beautiful buildings. Much better than my neighborhood. I walked for about an hour before my jeans were soaked up to my shins. Eventually I noticed I was out of the colonial area and into a business district. In fact, I could now see the museum I had wanted to tour. Having no real clue as to where I was or if I was walking towards home, I thought it best to find a cab. I found several of them in the distance, but each time I got to the area where I saw them, they had all disappeared. This stalking continued for another 20 minutes as I made my way further and further into an area of Quito I didn´t know. Finally a cabbie took pity on me (it was pretty obvious I was not in my element) and pulled up to see if I needed a ride. This was the cheapest cab I had all day. $1.42 all the way back to my hostel. I so got ripped off earlier. Or I just managed to walk that far.
Back at the hostel I got a call from my coworker. He needed to kill some time while his girlfriend was in class. And so we walked in the rain to an outdoor (but covered!) coffee/bar/restaurant around the corner. There we sipped tea, ate finger foods and felt very effeminate. When his girlfriend called a short time later we jumped up and quickly looked for a taxi to go pick her up. We ended the night at the artsy bar the gals took me to the week before. My coworker was impressed. I was just happy to be out of the rain and sitting by a fire place.
We all hopped in cab a bit later and they dropped me at my hostel. I was in no mood to do my homework nor call it a night just yet, so I popped into the lounge to see what was on the tele. A backpacker from Cali was hanging out playing with the hostel dog. She pointed to the notebook with the movie listings when I asked what was on for the night. Out of a couple hundred titles, Jackie Brown was the winner. And so, for the next three hours I lounged on the couch and I enjoyed the movie soundtrack (the actual movie is pretty bad). A pretty chill ending to a busy day.
For pics of the day, follow this link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157602997913034/
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Mitad Del Mundo
On Monday I met my coworker in the middle of the afternoon to take a cab out to Mitad Del Mundo - or Middle of the Earth - the area where the equator passes through Ecuador (and where Ecuador gets his name, just in case you missed that). We asked our driver to take us the 22kms out of Quito to the "theme park" set up around this line and then wait for us to scout it out. It really is a theme park, complete with over-priced vendors and awful murals.
But it turns out there are two Mitad Del Mundos. The original was so designated by French explores using nothing more than maps and the stars for their conclusion. According to the location of the second Mitad Del Mundo, they were only off by about 200 meters. That´s pretty damn impressive. The second is so designated by GPS coordinates. Cheaters.
The orginal one is awful. A gargantuan monument sits on the line first designated as the equator. There is a long walk way leading to this monument with several statues of French and Latin explores, artists, etc, all frowning or grimacing. Around the monument are various buildings including a planetarium, small hokey museums, and vendors selling all kinds of souvineers. We chose to go to this monument second. And by the time we reached it, it was covered by fog. But that improved the place.
First we went to the GPS-correct park. This was actually fun. We got a small tour with a Spanish speaking guide. Don´t fret; my coworker played translator. I needed it. By the half-way point the guide would wait a minute or two for him to translate what she had just said. I just smiled. Occasionally I would surprise her by motioning her to continue without him translating. This was rare though. There were all sorts of little activities to prove this was, in fact, the actual location of the equator. There was the draining water test: A basin was emptied on the line and the water went straight down. To the right it flowed one direction, and to the left, the other direction. Then there was the stand an egg on a nail test. The guide could do it, we couldn´t. Still not convinced by that one. But my hands are shaky. There was also a test to see if could walk the line with our eyes closed. We couldn´t. The pull from both sides was strong enough to make us stumble. Seriously. After a few pics of the line and the sign stating this was 0" 0", I declared myself a believer.
We went to the original site next. As mentioned before, it was over-done. And covered in fog at this point. We snapped a few pics and left. For this privilage we paid $3 each. Boo. But whichever one is the right one, I have proof I was standing on each.
Pics of the trip:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603002030111/
But it turns out there are two Mitad Del Mundos. The original was so designated by French explores using nothing more than maps and the stars for their conclusion. According to the location of the second Mitad Del Mundo, they were only off by about 200 meters. That´s pretty damn impressive. The second is so designated by GPS coordinates. Cheaters.
The orginal one is awful. A gargantuan monument sits on the line first designated as the equator. There is a long walk way leading to this monument with several statues of French and Latin explores, artists, etc, all frowning or grimacing. Around the monument are various buildings including a planetarium, small hokey museums, and vendors selling all kinds of souvineers. We chose to go to this monument second. And by the time we reached it, it was covered by fog. But that improved the place.
First we went to the GPS-correct park. This was actually fun. We got a small tour with a Spanish speaking guide. Don´t fret; my coworker played translator. I needed it. By the half-way point the guide would wait a minute or two for him to translate what she had just said. I just smiled. Occasionally I would surprise her by motioning her to continue without him translating. This was rare though. There were all sorts of little activities to prove this was, in fact, the actual location of the equator. There was the draining water test: A basin was emptied on the line and the water went straight down. To the right it flowed one direction, and to the left, the other direction. Then there was the stand an egg on a nail test. The guide could do it, we couldn´t. Still not convinced by that one. But my hands are shaky. There was also a test to see if could walk the line with our eyes closed. We couldn´t. The pull from both sides was strong enough to make us stumble. Seriously. After a few pics of the line and the sign stating this was 0" 0", I declared myself a believer.
We went to the original site next. As mentioned before, it was over-done. And covered in fog at this point. We snapped a few pics and left. For this privilage we paid $3 each. Boo. But whichever one is the right one, I have proof I was standing on each.
Pics of the trip:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603002030111/
A Few More Random Thoughts
The U.S. embassy in Ecuador is next door to a McDonalds. I thought my cab driver was kidding when he pointed in that direction and said there is the U.S. embassy. Seems appropriate some how.
I make no new friends when I offer up a $20 bill to pay for a $2.45 meal. Most times some one has to go for change.
At a bakery in Otovalo we bought 35 large bread loaves for $2. My coworker and I joked that we could just buy the store and run it as our business. We decided I would sell crackers and he would sell brownies. This had us cracking up all afternoon.
Cab drivers here drive like 8-year-olds ski in the States. No fear what-so-ever.
I seem to be getting better and better at speaking Spanish in my class and worse and worse on the streets. How does that happen?
Every American I have met this far is traveling for 2-5 weeks. I always take pleasure in saying I am traveling for four months. Then today I met a girl from Cali who said she was traveling for 8 months. I´m not so smug any more.
I took four cabs today. It should have only been two. Either my spanish needs to improve or my knowledge of the city.
I heard an episode of Scrubs playing in the lounge at the hostal today. I immediately jumped in to watch. A group of Brits was watching and knew everyone´s name on the show. Who knew the show was so big outside of the U.S.?
I make no new friends when I offer up a $20 bill to pay for a $2.45 meal. Most times some one has to go for change.
At a bakery in Otovalo we bought 35 large bread loaves for $2. My coworker and I joked that we could just buy the store and run it as our business. We decided I would sell crackers and he would sell brownies. This had us cracking up all afternoon.
Cab drivers here drive like 8-year-olds ski in the States. No fear what-so-ever.
I seem to be getting better and better at speaking Spanish in my class and worse and worse on the streets. How does that happen?
Every American I have met this far is traveling for 2-5 weeks. I always take pleasure in saying I am traveling for four months. Then today I met a girl from Cali who said she was traveling for 8 months. I´m not so smug any more.
I took four cabs today. It should have only been two. Either my spanish needs to improve or my knowledge of the city.
I heard an episode of Scrubs playing in the lounge at the hostal today. I immediately jumped in to watch. A group of Brits was watching and knew everyone´s name on the show. Who knew the show was so big outside of the U.S.?
Sunday, November 4, 2007
This Little DCtonian Went to Market
Friday my coworker arrived in Quito to see his girlfriend (my host for the past week) and celebrate her birthday. I was really looking forward to seeing a familiar face after a week on my own (sort of). And so when I got the call that he had arrived and he and the girlfriend were on their way into the city to pick me up, I packed up for a weekend away and grabbed a cab to the university.
We were spending the weekend in Otovalo, a small city just north of Quito. The town is well known for its large public markets on Saturdays. One of the markets, earlier in the morning includes large animals and this is the one I really wanted to see. I´ve been living in the city for too long.
Our cabbie to Otovalo had driven down from the city, which was two hours away, to pick us up. For $40 he drove the three of us up and even stopped along the way for my camera-happy requests. The drive, at least before it got dark, provided excellent views of the canyons and mountains we speeded through. He also entertained my coworkers requests to speak to me in spanish so I could practice. Poor guy. I think the coworker did this just to keep me from interrupting his time with his girlfriend. And so I stared straight ahead and butchered questions in spanish about the landscape and our destination.
Our hostal for the weekend was about 4kms outside of town, straight up a mountain. It was so chosen, a) because the area was beautiful, and b) because my coworker knew the owners and had stayed there once before. We arrived at La Luna at 7pm (just late enough to miss the views) and made our way to the lounge for food. The evening was chill, with me eventually sitting in front of the TV watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas before heading to bed early. Each of our rooms had fire places, which greatly excited me. We immediately went looking for wood and kindling and got to work starting fires. Or trying to start fires. 30 mins later we agreed the wood was too damp and I went to bed cold.
The animal market I mentioned earlier was to begin at 5am and go until about 9am. The option of taking a cab down the mountain to the market was offered, but I decided I needed the exercise and opt´d to walk. And so I set my alarm for 6:30 in order to get down there in time to see the action. My coworker and his girlfriend politely, and seemingly clairvoyantly, declined my invitation to come with at that hour.
At 6:30am my alarm went off. I jumped out of bed, anxious to see the animal trading just down the road, and started to get dressed only to stop short when I realized that was rain I was hearing outside my dark window. So I reset my alarm for half an hour later and went back to sleep. Half an hour later, it was still raining. I repeated this once more, and at 7:30 all systems were go. I grabbed both cameras and my rain coat just in case, and hit the road. For the next 45 minutes I passed numerous groups of indeginous people walking the same road, each stopping to stare at me quizically, and then giving a nervous smile and the same reply when I offered a "buenos dias". Eventually these same people would come sailing past me in the backs of pick-up trucks offering sympathetic smiles. The walk was much longer that I expected, something my coworker and his girlfriend no doubt were very much well aware of.
After an hour of walking and three inquiries to groups of indegionous people, I found the animal market - in all its glory. Or as much glory comes with seeing dozens of cows, goats, and pigs leashed and relieving themselves where ever they stood. I´m not sure what exactly I expected, but the hike was worth it when I saw a large pig flipped, held down by four people, and its tooth ripped out in the span of 30 seconds. What this accomplished, I haven´t the foggiest. But it was really cool to watch.
For the next 40 minutes or so I wandered around pretending to not take pictures of everyone and their cow as I snapped picture after picture. There were a few other, older gringos there taking pictures. But the locals took little notice of us. They went about bartering, selling, and buying farm animals. It was an experience. One, I was told, I could see any day of the week once I hit Bolivia. But for now I was in Ecuador, and I was happy to be walking amongst these stinky bovine.
Once that grew old, I went walking towards the city plaza where the main tourist draw was the be held: a market of crafts mainly for tourists. I am as much a tourist as the next guy and was just as keen as seeing what treasures were to be found. Turns out there were quite a few. Treasures might be too strong a word, but there were some nifty things; my favorite being the chess set with one set of pieces modeled after conquistadores and the other after Incas. The knights were horses and llamas respectively. So clever.
While I waited for the other two to make their way down from the hostel, I decided to check out the food market. A weaker man might have withdrawn upon seeing the sheep heads, cow eyes, and even the actual skinning of a pig. But I am a man looking for adventure. And besides, I had lost my appetite back at the animal market. So down the corridors I went, checking out the pig feet, large stacks of chicken feet, what looked like soul food, and menu items I couldn´t begin to identify. When I got to the veggies area I suddenly developed an appetite and left the food market in order to keep it. Just outside I found Super Pollo. Seemed as good a place as any to have lunch. I ordered a half chicken with rice and soup and a coke. As I slurped away at my soup an indeginous couple walked up to my table, indicated in sign language that the restaurant was full, and by patting the chair, asked if they could sit at my table. I said sure and suddenly I had company watching me eat. A bit awkward. I nodded with a quick smile after every few bites, hoping their food would arrive very soon. When it eventually did, I tried to break the silence by asking what the sauce was they were putting on the fries. Mayonnaise. Right, of course. The man, rightly thinking me ignorant, proceeded to give me the name of everything on the table, including the salt, pepper, ketchup, and finally, picking up my bottle, coke. I nodded in agreement, ate my last bit of rice and bounced.
My coworker and his girlfriend finally made their way to the craft market and I met them there to walk around looking for things for the folks back home. Now I am not a big fan of shopping in my own country. I am even less a fan of shopping in another country. I would much prefer to walk around and look. But I had promised to send back gifts and thus had to think of what people might like. To me, a decorative gourd would not be an item I would particularly want to show off in my house. Would my friends and family want one? Who knows? And thus I ended the shopping trip almost empty handed. I won´t say what I did buy for fear of ruining the surprise for those of you that did get something. But I will apologize in advance for these gifts.
Face and neck bright red, and having been on my feet since 7:30, I was ready to call it a day. Our group had now increased to six and these new additions were hungry. They found a restaurant, and I found a place to prop my elbows and thus my head. An hour later we were in a car (thankfully) and on our way back to the hostal. I went straight for the showers - having noticablly skipped one that morning.
The evening was chill again. We had a light dinner, my coworker and I learned a new card game (he was much better at it that me - probably because the rules were explained in spanish), and with little enthusiasm headed back to the cabin for some drinking games. Before the games started however, one of the staff from the hostal came to our cabin and started fires in each fire place in less than a minute. My coworker and I agreed the wood must now be dry. At the end of the night, I retreated to my new room - without a fire place, and tried to sleep despite the sounds of flying beetles buzzing past my ear every 30 mins or so. No matter how often I woke up to inspect the room, shoe in hand, nor how many I killed, thirty minutes later I would wake again to the sound of a beetle buzzing my head.
Sunday was unofficially declared a lazy day. I was up at what I thought was 9:45. It was actually 8:45 - my coworker brought down my watch but didn´t reset it. This confused everyone down at the main building when the time was asked and I said a time much later than expected. I enjoyed breakfast and the view and chatted with a couple from Wisconsin. With no sign of life from the others in my cabin, I accepted the offer to go for a short hike up the side of the mountain behind the hostal. I was rewarded with the most amzing view I have ever seen. I could see as far as Colombia. Or at least I was told that was Colombia. Who was I too argue? It was one of the best experiences I have had so far on this trip. Movement was detected around 1pm down below, and so I made my way down to see what was up. Very little. Lunch was served and hammocks were filled. The only action to take place that day was a quick walk around a lake several hundred meters up. The walk was nice, if not short. But it was just enough to knock out the coworker and his girlfriend for the ride back to Quito. A restfull weekend will do that to you.
For pics of the weekend, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157602917957296/
We were spending the weekend in Otovalo, a small city just north of Quito. The town is well known for its large public markets on Saturdays. One of the markets, earlier in the morning includes large animals and this is the one I really wanted to see. I´ve been living in the city for too long.
Our cabbie to Otovalo had driven down from the city, which was two hours away, to pick us up. For $40 he drove the three of us up and even stopped along the way for my camera-happy requests. The drive, at least before it got dark, provided excellent views of the canyons and mountains we speeded through. He also entertained my coworkers requests to speak to me in spanish so I could practice. Poor guy. I think the coworker did this just to keep me from interrupting his time with his girlfriend. And so I stared straight ahead and butchered questions in spanish about the landscape and our destination.
Our hostal for the weekend was about 4kms outside of town, straight up a mountain. It was so chosen, a) because the area was beautiful, and b) because my coworker knew the owners and had stayed there once before. We arrived at La Luna at 7pm (just late enough to miss the views) and made our way to the lounge for food. The evening was chill, with me eventually sitting in front of the TV watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas before heading to bed early. Each of our rooms had fire places, which greatly excited me. We immediately went looking for wood and kindling and got to work starting fires. Or trying to start fires. 30 mins later we agreed the wood was too damp and I went to bed cold.
The animal market I mentioned earlier was to begin at 5am and go until about 9am. The option of taking a cab down the mountain to the market was offered, but I decided I needed the exercise and opt´d to walk. And so I set my alarm for 6:30 in order to get down there in time to see the action. My coworker and his girlfriend politely, and seemingly clairvoyantly, declined my invitation to come with at that hour.
At 6:30am my alarm went off. I jumped out of bed, anxious to see the animal trading just down the road, and started to get dressed only to stop short when I realized that was rain I was hearing outside my dark window. So I reset my alarm for half an hour later and went back to sleep. Half an hour later, it was still raining. I repeated this once more, and at 7:30 all systems were go. I grabbed both cameras and my rain coat just in case, and hit the road. For the next 45 minutes I passed numerous groups of indeginous people walking the same road, each stopping to stare at me quizically, and then giving a nervous smile and the same reply when I offered a "buenos dias". Eventually these same people would come sailing past me in the backs of pick-up trucks offering sympathetic smiles. The walk was much longer that I expected, something my coworker and his girlfriend no doubt were very much well aware of.
After an hour of walking and three inquiries to groups of indegionous people, I found the animal market - in all its glory. Or as much glory comes with seeing dozens of cows, goats, and pigs leashed and relieving themselves where ever they stood. I´m not sure what exactly I expected, but the hike was worth it when I saw a large pig flipped, held down by four people, and its tooth ripped out in the span of 30 seconds. What this accomplished, I haven´t the foggiest. But it was really cool to watch.
For the next 40 minutes or so I wandered around pretending to not take pictures of everyone and their cow as I snapped picture after picture. There were a few other, older gringos there taking pictures. But the locals took little notice of us. They went about bartering, selling, and buying farm animals. It was an experience. One, I was told, I could see any day of the week once I hit Bolivia. But for now I was in Ecuador, and I was happy to be walking amongst these stinky bovine.
Once that grew old, I went walking towards the city plaza where the main tourist draw was the be held: a market of crafts mainly for tourists. I am as much a tourist as the next guy and was just as keen as seeing what treasures were to be found. Turns out there were quite a few. Treasures might be too strong a word, but there were some nifty things; my favorite being the chess set with one set of pieces modeled after conquistadores and the other after Incas. The knights were horses and llamas respectively. So clever.
While I waited for the other two to make their way down from the hostel, I decided to check out the food market. A weaker man might have withdrawn upon seeing the sheep heads, cow eyes, and even the actual skinning of a pig. But I am a man looking for adventure. And besides, I had lost my appetite back at the animal market. So down the corridors I went, checking out the pig feet, large stacks of chicken feet, what looked like soul food, and menu items I couldn´t begin to identify. When I got to the veggies area I suddenly developed an appetite and left the food market in order to keep it. Just outside I found Super Pollo. Seemed as good a place as any to have lunch. I ordered a half chicken with rice and soup and a coke. As I slurped away at my soup an indeginous couple walked up to my table, indicated in sign language that the restaurant was full, and by patting the chair, asked if they could sit at my table. I said sure and suddenly I had company watching me eat. A bit awkward. I nodded with a quick smile after every few bites, hoping their food would arrive very soon. When it eventually did, I tried to break the silence by asking what the sauce was they were putting on the fries. Mayonnaise. Right, of course. The man, rightly thinking me ignorant, proceeded to give me the name of everything on the table, including the salt, pepper, ketchup, and finally, picking up my bottle, coke. I nodded in agreement, ate my last bit of rice and bounced.
My coworker and his girlfriend finally made their way to the craft market and I met them there to walk around looking for things for the folks back home. Now I am not a big fan of shopping in my own country. I am even less a fan of shopping in another country. I would much prefer to walk around and look. But I had promised to send back gifts and thus had to think of what people might like. To me, a decorative gourd would not be an item I would particularly want to show off in my house. Would my friends and family want one? Who knows? And thus I ended the shopping trip almost empty handed. I won´t say what I did buy for fear of ruining the surprise for those of you that did get something. But I will apologize in advance for these gifts.
Face and neck bright red, and having been on my feet since 7:30, I was ready to call it a day. Our group had now increased to six and these new additions were hungry. They found a restaurant, and I found a place to prop my elbows and thus my head. An hour later we were in a car (thankfully) and on our way back to the hostal. I went straight for the showers - having noticablly skipped one that morning.
The evening was chill again. We had a light dinner, my coworker and I learned a new card game (he was much better at it that me - probably because the rules were explained in spanish), and with little enthusiasm headed back to the cabin for some drinking games. Before the games started however, one of the staff from the hostal came to our cabin and started fires in each fire place in less than a minute. My coworker and I agreed the wood must now be dry. At the end of the night, I retreated to my new room - without a fire place, and tried to sleep despite the sounds of flying beetles buzzing past my ear every 30 mins or so. No matter how often I woke up to inspect the room, shoe in hand, nor how many I killed, thirty minutes later I would wake again to the sound of a beetle buzzing my head.
Sunday was unofficially declared a lazy day. I was up at what I thought was 9:45. It was actually 8:45 - my coworker brought down my watch but didn´t reset it. This confused everyone down at the main building when the time was asked and I said a time much later than expected. I enjoyed breakfast and the view and chatted with a couple from Wisconsin. With no sign of life from the others in my cabin, I accepted the offer to go for a short hike up the side of the mountain behind the hostal. I was rewarded with the most amzing view I have ever seen. I could see as far as Colombia. Or at least I was told that was Colombia. Who was I too argue? It was one of the best experiences I have had so far on this trip. Movement was detected around 1pm down below, and so I made my way down to see what was up. Very little. Lunch was served and hammocks were filled. The only action to take place that day was a quick walk around a lake several hundred meters up. The walk was nice, if not short. But it was just enough to knock out the coworker and his girlfriend for the ride back to Quito. A restfull weekend will do that to you.
For pics of the weekend, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157602917957296/
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Dia del Muerte
Friday was Dia del Muerte in Ecuador, a holiday to celebrate the deceased. It´s a national holiday and most people have the day off of work, as do kids from school. It seems like a very private holiday; the only indication I saw that it was a national holiday was that many stores were closed and the streets were a little quieter.
My spanish class was still on, however. But instead of going over grammar in the class room, the school was going on a fied trip. In Calderon, a suburb of Quito, the indigenuos people spend the day at the cemetary having lunch with, singing to, chatting with, and otherwise reflecting on their deceased loved ones. I am quite sure this event is not meant for tourists to crash, but fortunately we weren´t the only ones walking between (some times on top of) graves snapping photos.
At 10am the professors lead their children(kids had the day off from school after all) and their students down the street to a bus stop. Along the way I finally met some of the other students. There was a young couple from Indiana taking a 6 week vacation in Ecuador before looking for work as teachers. I also met a girl from California who just quit her job to travel arond Ecuador for four weeks before looking for another job in forensics (like CSI, she told me). There was a girl from France who, although only on her second day of Spanish class, seemed fuent in the language. And there were two others, one from Japan and one from Germany, I think. We all were seperated on the bus and again once we arrived, so there was very little time to chat.
We arrived in Calderon around 11:15 and walked towards the cemetary. There were vendors all the way down the walkway towards the cemetary´s entrance selling real flowers, celephane flowers, dolls, food, ornaments, all sorts of things to decorate the graves of the deceased. There were also carnival rides, which seemed a little out of place considering the theme of the holiday. We made our way through the cemetary gate and found hundreds of people stepping over, on, and around short grave plots. Some plots were clearly for the more well off while others were a simple mound of dirt with a cross or marker. Walking along the outer perimiter we all went nuts with our cameras. I held back at first thinking it really inappropriate. Then I noticed the Ecuadorians with video cameras and large digital cameras, and decided it was time to go gung ho.
My teacher explained what was going on in Spanish (this was still considered class) and had me stop at various points to watch the older women eat lunch on the graves of family members. She explained each item on the menu and what certain ornaments meant. The whole experience was all very interesting to see. As we started towards the gate to exit, my teacher had me stop to listen to a man who was explaining the significance of the holiday to attentive students. I made out about 30% of what he said (but told my teacher I understood much of it just to hear her say "eso!"). After an hour of intrusion, we made our exit and walked back to the main street for the bus.
On the way back, I met two more people on the bus. A kid from Wyoming, just out of high school who decided to volunteer teaching English for four months instead of going straight to college. And a gal from Scotland who was traveling for 7 months through S. America after graduating with a major in Gaelic. She seemed a bit put-off when I asked what one does with a degree in Gaelic, but then couldn´t really anser me. Best of luck to her.
Once back in the city, I killed time reading and checking email after checking out of my hostel, until my coworker arrived in Quito. He is visiting his girlfriend, my host, for her birthday for the week. Shortly after he arrived, I met the two of them at her university where we met a cabbie for the 1.5 hour drive to Otovalo. More on that trip in the next post. Be ready for pics from a large animal market!
For pics from my trip to the cemetary for Dia del Muerte, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157602850393518/
My spanish class was still on, however. But instead of going over grammar in the class room, the school was going on a fied trip. In Calderon, a suburb of Quito, the indigenuos people spend the day at the cemetary having lunch with, singing to, chatting with, and otherwise reflecting on their deceased loved ones. I am quite sure this event is not meant for tourists to crash, but fortunately we weren´t the only ones walking between (some times on top of) graves snapping photos.
At 10am the professors lead their children(kids had the day off from school after all) and their students down the street to a bus stop. Along the way I finally met some of the other students. There was a young couple from Indiana taking a 6 week vacation in Ecuador before looking for work as teachers. I also met a girl from California who just quit her job to travel arond Ecuador for four weeks before looking for another job in forensics (like CSI, she told me). There was a girl from France who, although only on her second day of Spanish class, seemed fuent in the language. And there were two others, one from Japan and one from Germany, I think. We all were seperated on the bus and again once we arrived, so there was very little time to chat.
We arrived in Calderon around 11:15 and walked towards the cemetary. There were vendors all the way down the walkway towards the cemetary´s entrance selling real flowers, celephane flowers, dolls, food, ornaments, all sorts of things to decorate the graves of the deceased. There were also carnival rides, which seemed a little out of place considering the theme of the holiday. We made our way through the cemetary gate and found hundreds of people stepping over, on, and around short grave plots. Some plots were clearly for the more well off while others were a simple mound of dirt with a cross or marker. Walking along the outer perimiter we all went nuts with our cameras. I held back at first thinking it really inappropriate. Then I noticed the Ecuadorians with video cameras and large digital cameras, and decided it was time to go gung ho.
My teacher explained what was going on in Spanish (this was still considered class) and had me stop at various points to watch the older women eat lunch on the graves of family members. She explained each item on the menu and what certain ornaments meant. The whole experience was all very interesting to see. As we started towards the gate to exit, my teacher had me stop to listen to a man who was explaining the significance of the holiday to attentive students. I made out about 30% of what he said (but told my teacher I understood much of it just to hear her say "eso!"). After an hour of intrusion, we made our exit and walked back to the main street for the bus.
On the way back, I met two more people on the bus. A kid from Wyoming, just out of high school who decided to volunteer teaching English for four months instead of going straight to college. And a gal from Scotland who was traveling for 7 months through S. America after graduating with a major in Gaelic. She seemed a bit put-off when I asked what one does with a degree in Gaelic, but then couldn´t really anser me. Best of luck to her.
Once back in the city, I killed time reading and checking email after checking out of my hostel, until my coworker arrived in Quito. He is visiting his girlfriend, my host, for her birthday for the week. Shortly after he arrived, I met the two of them at her university where we met a cabbie for the 1.5 hour drive to Otovalo. More on that trip in the next post. Be ready for pics from a large animal market!
For pics from my trip to the cemetary for Dia del Muerte, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157602850393518/
Friday, November 2, 2007
More Random Thoughts
It is so odd to see people light-up a cigarette inside. Inside a bar, restaurant, cybercafe, whatever. Those of you in DC know what I am talking about.
People over the age of, say 40, that stay in hostels creep me out. There are three or four couples around 50 years old staying at my hostel and they are all very arrogant. I mean arguing over a $6 tab for breakfast for two? Seriously?
Those older couples always seem to be from England, Spain, or Germany.
I can not seem to find a decent cigar shop any where near where I am staying. I ended up buying one of those cigars with a mouth piece and had to put it out after a few puffs. I was so embarrassed.
South American indeginous women are very proud. Or they just really do not care.
Spanish would be so much easier to understand if every one spoke as slowly as people in the southern U.S.
I learned the word for butter yesterday and was so excited to finally ask for it in Spanish at breakfast. Then this morning I asked for a suitcase.
Beer always tastes better in a cold mug. No matter the country.
Not every local in the Gringo district of Quito speaks Spanish. I found this out the hard way at the laundry.
If a car is beeping at you as you are crossing the street in Quito, it is not simultaneously slowing down.
I still can"t figure out how to make an apostrophe on these damn keyboards.
People over the age of, say 40, that stay in hostels creep me out. There are three or four couples around 50 years old staying at my hostel and they are all very arrogant. I mean arguing over a $6 tab for breakfast for two? Seriously?
Those older couples always seem to be from England, Spain, or Germany.
I can not seem to find a decent cigar shop any where near where I am staying. I ended up buying one of those cigars with a mouth piece and had to put it out after a few puffs. I was so embarrassed.
South American indeginous women are very proud. Or they just really do not care.
Spanish would be so much easier to understand if every one spoke as slowly as people in the southern U.S.
I learned the word for butter yesterday and was so excited to finally ask for it in Spanish at breakfast. Then this morning I asked for a suitcase.
Beer always tastes better in a cold mug. No matter the country.
Not every local in the Gringo district of Quito speaks Spanish. I found this out the hard way at the laundry.
If a car is beeping at you as you are crossing the street in Quito, it is not simultaneously slowing down.
I still can"t figure out how to make an apostrophe on these damn keyboards.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Halloween in Quito
Halloween does exhist in Quito. Though not for the kids. There are no kids trick-or-treating. Just lots of 20-somethings running around the streets in Gringoland dressed up in costume and partying in the rain. This morning I talked to one of the Brits in my hostel who was actually arrested during all the action. At 9am, in the dining room, he was wearing no shirt and was still covered in face and body paint. The others in the group didn't look much better. Nor did I, I suppose.
Other than a few fake spider webs at various restaurants and bars around the area, there was no real indication that it was Halloween. I went to class as usual and had a better go at this time around. The four hours flew by. Afterwards I took a stroll around the area to see what was going on. Very little. I eventually went back to the hostel to work on my home work. A little after 5 I got the news that the hosts would be going to a club later that evening, and no, I didn't have to dress up. I was actually wanting to go looking for a grass skirt or something, but oh well.
I killed time studying and hanging in the lounge. Finally around 8:30, I checked in to see what the plan was. My ride would arrive in about an hour or so. So I got dressed and decided to go see what was going on outside. A lot. The streets were packed. Big trucks full of people in the back and hanging from the sides, were rolling down the streets honking their horns. Costumes were every where. The restaurants and bars were packed. And it was raining at that. I grabbed a bite to eat and headed back to the hostel just in time for the call that my ride was here. But my street was blocked off so I had to go looking for them. Ah, the car full of people. That's my ride.
I squeezed in and off we went to the club. There was a line, there was a door man, there was a dress code. I made it past all three. Probably because I was with four beautiful women and guy who looked like a DJ. It was a little dead at first and no one was dancing. The guys had to pay $10 each, but then could drink all the rum or vodka drinks they wanted. And we did. I think I hit the bar at least 10 times. Did I get drunk? Surprisingly, no. Because once people started hitting the bars in droves, the dancing began. What does that have to do with me not getting drunk? Well, I sweated out almost every drop of alcohol on the dance floor. Those of you that know me, know I cannot dance. That didn"t stop me. Fortunately it was so crowded no one noticed. Or maybe they expected as much from a gringo. Regardless, it was a lot of fun. There was a ridiculous amount of drinking, not just by me, but by everyone in the club. My dancing was so bad that at one point one of the girls said she was going to teach me to dance. I didn"t get any better. But it was still fun.
Apparenly my spanish accent leaves a lot to be desired too. At one point when I was ordering a round at the bar (in spanish), the girl sitting at the bar next to me asked if I was from the U.S. Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Thanks for asking. My host followed me up to the bar half way through the night to make sure I was able to make my way through the crowd and order. I asked her if tipping was necessary. "You can but not much". So I tipped the bartender $5. From that point on, I got noticed every time I went to the bar. Probably not a good thing.
At the end of the night, there was a costume judging in from of the crowd. The constestants were paraded out in front of us and we were to cheer for the costume we liked most. I"m still not sure why, but I was all for the guy dressed as a clown to win. I shouted at the top of my lungs and urged everyone else to cheer for him. This got the attention of three guys next to me in the crowd, who just happened to be friends-relatives of the clown. Suddenly I was a part of their group. For cheering on their amigo, who won second place and $100, I was going to drink free for the rest of the night. Well, I kinda was already, but the thought was appreciated. Having three guys slapping me on the back and continuing a conversation with me as I faced the urinal a few minutes later was not so much appreciated. I had to ask them to give me a minute before they, well, gave me a minute to finish. A few minutes later it was time to go. I made it home by 2:30(ish). That left me about 5 hours to sleep. Probably much more than the gals that took me out who had to work the next day.
Pics of the night: http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157602853613996/
Other than a few fake spider webs at various restaurants and bars around the area, there was no real indication that it was Halloween. I went to class as usual and had a better go at this time around. The four hours flew by. Afterwards I took a stroll around the area to see what was going on. Very little. I eventually went back to the hostel to work on my home work. A little after 5 I got the news that the hosts would be going to a club later that evening, and no, I didn't have to dress up. I was actually wanting to go looking for a grass skirt or something, but oh well.
I killed time studying and hanging in the lounge. Finally around 8:30, I checked in to see what the plan was. My ride would arrive in about an hour or so. So I got dressed and decided to go see what was going on outside. A lot. The streets were packed. Big trucks full of people in the back and hanging from the sides, were rolling down the streets honking their horns. Costumes were every where. The restaurants and bars were packed. And it was raining at that. I grabbed a bite to eat and headed back to the hostel just in time for the call that my ride was here. But my street was blocked off so I had to go looking for them. Ah, the car full of people. That's my ride.
I squeezed in and off we went to the club. There was a line, there was a door man, there was a dress code. I made it past all three. Probably because I was with four beautiful women and guy who looked like a DJ. It was a little dead at first and no one was dancing. The guys had to pay $10 each, but then could drink all the rum or vodka drinks they wanted. And we did. I think I hit the bar at least 10 times. Did I get drunk? Surprisingly, no. Because once people started hitting the bars in droves, the dancing began. What does that have to do with me not getting drunk? Well, I sweated out almost every drop of alcohol on the dance floor. Those of you that know me, know I cannot dance. That didn"t stop me. Fortunately it was so crowded no one noticed. Or maybe they expected as much from a gringo. Regardless, it was a lot of fun. There was a ridiculous amount of drinking, not just by me, but by everyone in the club. My dancing was so bad that at one point one of the girls said she was going to teach me to dance. I didn"t get any better. But it was still fun.
Apparenly my spanish accent leaves a lot to be desired too. At one point when I was ordering a round at the bar (in spanish), the girl sitting at the bar next to me asked if I was from the U.S. Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Thanks for asking. My host followed me up to the bar half way through the night to make sure I was able to make my way through the crowd and order. I asked her if tipping was necessary. "You can but not much". So I tipped the bartender $5. From that point on, I got noticed every time I went to the bar. Probably not a good thing.
At the end of the night, there was a costume judging in from of the crowd. The constestants were paraded out in front of us and we were to cheer for the costume we liked most. I"m still not sure why, but I was all for the guy dressed as a clown to win. I shouted at the top of my lungs and urged everyone else to cheer for him. This got the attention of three guys next to me in the crowd, who just happened to be friends-relatives of the clown. Suddenly I was a part of their group. For cheering on their amigo, who won second place and $100, I was going to drink free for the rest of the night. Well, I kinda was already, but the thought was appreciated. Having three guys slapping me on the back and continuing a conversation with me as I faced the urinal a few minutes later was not so much appreciated. I had to ask them to give me a minute before they, well, gave me a minute to finish. A few minutes later it was time to go. I made it home by 2:30(ish). That left me about 5 hours to sleep. Probably much more than the gals that took me out who had to work the next day.
Pics of the night: http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157602853613996/
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