Day 37: Quito

I think I may regret not spending more time in Ecuador. But I am sure that I will regret not spending enough time in Colombia. So my plans changed somewhat, my desire to visit that beautiful nation of cocaine and chicharron coupled with a cheaper connection to Costa Rica -- through Cartagena, on the Carribean coast, as opposed to Cali, just a few hours from the Ecuadoreanish border. I have just purchased such a flight from Cartagena to Panama City, departing at 6:15am on July the 8th. Which gives me a spot over two weeks to travel Colombia.

But that is the future, and this is no future blog. I split from Ambato after a day after making these plan-changes and took the quick bus trip to Quito, El Capital. Had a fun politics conversation with a young lady on the bus, which gave a nice little insight into Ecuadorishean politics. I was, however, often distracted by the beautiful -- albeit cloud-covered -- scenery and by my conversation partner's moustache. Either way, it was an easy bus ride. I made sure to actually watch the guy put my backpack on the bus this time.

I must say that part of these plan-changes are an unveiled attempt to jump-start my happiness and push aside my boredom. The Guayaquil-Ambato period will definitely go down as a low point on my travels, and also the period when I started having trouble sleeping. Going to sleep is easy, but I am waking up often during the night and unable to make this time up through naps. At first I thought this was due to the humid nights of Guayaquil, but the problem has continued through Ambato and Quito. I am unsure what caused this lack of zzz's. However despite the mildly sleepness nights, Quito has been a fun couple of days, just what, as it is said, "the doctor ordered."

To be honest, my first day was not quite so fun. I arrived and decided to take a nice walk down to "Old Town", also known as the Historical Area. Saw the huge Gothic Basilica, had a nice lunch at a restaurant run by an older couple (more on both of these locations later), after which it started to rain. I had seen so many cloudy days without rain that I forgot the causal relationship between the two, and my T-shirt did little to keep me dry. I started to walk back to the hostel, and got completely, utterly, not to mention totally lost. I literally went in a big circle, ending up back within sight of the Basilica and finding my way after a good hour and a half of confusion and wetness. However, continuing on my streak of never getting sick, I did not get sick. I am just as impressed as you are, Oh Compassionate Reader, and perhaps more grateful.

Day Two began as Museum Day, which in turn began with a trip to the small but interesting Caamaño Museum in Old Town. A history of Quito, illustrated by paintings and photos from different periods and some creepy life-size historical figures in reconstructions of their natural habitats. There was a lot of hustle and bustle on the streets, with many religious processions, which in Ecuador and Peru seem to be a lot less solemn than those I have seen in the US and far more carnivalish. Made-up word? You be the judge.

Seeing literal storm clouds on the horizon, I high-tailed it back to the hostel, grabbing a little pork and fried banana lunch on the way. I joined a card game some of my fellow travelers were playing, a game called Durok of apparent Russian origin. I won't waste space trying to describe it in detail, but basically it's a combination of poker, speed, hearts, and vodka. It was an interesting group of people I took up with, mostly French folks, with an odd Belgian and German mixed in. I did enjoy the tri-language communication, and I was pleased to discover my French abilities are much better than I thought. Mais oui!

The card players and I, plus some others, decided to pitch in on a big cheese fondue dinner. I went with three others to a nearby supermarché to get supplies -- a French couple a few years older than me and a Belgian girl, about the same age, who was expecting her boyfriend to arrive the next day. More interchanging of languages, and I did feel a bit superior, being the most fluent in two out of the three languages. Shocked we were to discover the Ecuadoraner supply of fondue cheese is greatly lacking! We did some slow thinking and decided to make potatoes with cheese and bacon toppings instead. If that sounds very American, you can thank yours truly. We lugged the food items back to the hostel, myself in command of a 7 kilo watermelon. At this point I must add that the hostel is two long blocks up a very steep hill. Not to mention Quito is already around 3000 meters above sea level. At this point I must apologize to my American readers for my use of the metric system. Just make up the conversions -- that's the real American way.

Dinner was delicious and very filling, boxed wine and all. I collapsed in my bed, had another night of restlessness, and woke up to my last full day in Quito (and Ecuador). One of my three room-mates is another American who suggested I take a tour of the Basilica, mentioning that you are allowed to climb high up into the bell towers. I swung up to the Itchimbia lookout a few blocks above the hostel for some pictures and then strolled over to the Basilica, only to find it did not open for another twenty minutes. Therefore, I went to have breakfast at the old couple restaurant: scrambled eggs, biscuit, fake coffee, and some sort of shake-beverage -- the best I can guess is apple juice mixed with egg whites. Not bad, if you can believe it. What's that? You can't? Well, I drank that tall glass of yellowish foamy crud in two gulps. And it almost didn't stay down, but you will have to read further to find out why.

The Basilica "tour" was actually just an entrance fee. There was nobody else there, not on any of the levels -- except for a lady cleaning the bathrooms on the third floor who later became my inspiration. There are three towers on the Basilica, one at the far end and two parallel towers on the side closer to the entrance. I walked up three floors of regular stairs. Please note that I used the phrase "regular stairs". There was a small unattended gift shop and bathrooms, and a gate that stood between me and a wooden pathway over concrete ceiling of the church. I came back for this part, because first I wanted to climb the bell tower. Two more flights of regular stairs brought me outside at the base of the actual belfry tower. I then went inside and climbed a tiny spiral staircase in the corner, which brought me to the huge clock room. At this point I started to feel a little dizzy and nauseous. Kept going up the spiral staircase up to a wooden construction platform near the top of the clock room, and then more spiral stairs above the clock room -- here there were no more windows, and the wind was very strong. I knew that I had some fear of heights, but it had never affected me so much. I took my time on this level, and was able to make it up the first rebar ladder to the next level (there are three rebar ladders to get to the very top). At that point I realized I could not go any further. My head was swimming, my stomach was churning, and I couldn't keep my mind off all the terrible possibilities. The Caamaño museum on the previous day had taught me all about the great earthquakes and volcanic eruptions in Quito's history. My legs and arms were shaking so much I was afraid to climb the next ladder. So I went back down, and back on the third floor I saw the bathroom cleaning lady, and I told her how scary it was up there. Keep in mind, there was nobody else in the whole tower structure. Not a soul.

I walked across the church ceiling walkway and up onto the base of the far tower. There was ladder up along one of the flying buttresses, but I imagine only insane or drunk people would go up. I went back -- but my inability to get to the top of the belfry tower bothered me, itched at me, challenged me. I saw the bathroom cleaning lady again, and told her I was going to try again, and she laughed. This time I had a plan to conquer my fear: no thinking. And it worked! I made it up the spiral staircases, and all three rebar ladders. The top floor, if you can call it that, was just a bunch of metal bracings with chicken wire tied down. I stepped up onto a metal bracing, looked out at the ant-people, and started back down. I had yet to put two feet down on the ladder when the HOLY SHIT BELL started to ring RIGHT ABOVE MY HEAD. Everything shook, not least of all me. I climbed down as fast as I could, back to solid ground. On the way down the regular stairs I saw some English-speaking tourists on their way up, and I laughed inside.

After conquering my fear and almost peeing myself because of a big bell, I went to find a particular bus, which I took to the end of the line, and then another bus, also to the end of the line, where I found a huge stone obelisk with a big metal globe at the top (and a $2 entrance fee). What was this place, Oh Inquisitive Reader? Why, it was the Equator! The Middle of the World! I took some cool pictures, wandered from hemisphere to hemisphere, and got great amusement fomr watching tourists take various pictures at the site. In addition: I took a crap on the Equator. My quest complete, I wandered via bus back to the hostel, and then on some newer quests: buying plane tickets, checking international bus service to Colombia, and buying a English book.

Take a look at the pictures I posted, two sets to catch me up. Tomorrow will find me in Colombia, and today finds me much more energized. I imagine, and hope, that these last two weeks of solo travel will continue to engage and entertain me, fill me with delicious food, and keep my mind occupied. The lesson for today, between the fear of heights at the Basilica and the silliness at the Equator, is that most of what you perceive as your environment is actually in your head, a creation of our expectations, our fears, our desires, and so on.

And so on!