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/