We arrived Quito at 3:15pm January 21st but maybe you don’t know what that means. First we had to listen to irascible complaints from Thelma and Louis because they had been tossed into the baggage hold of the plane and then hundreds of fat relatives were stacked on top. They had not been seen the inside an airplane since the 26th of November but after this trip they looked really bad. Second, we had to take Taxi number two on the same day. Trauma in the Wallet! News Flash, Trauma in the Wallet! We didn’t know whether to shoot the wallet like a horse with a broken leg, or just give it a transfusion of cash positive ‘C+’. Third, the taxi driver was stressed and unhappy about driving us into old town where traffic is thick as thieves and the roads are thoroughly anorexic - but he reluctantly agreed and transported us for $8 when everyone else wanted $12. And then of course there was Donna, whining and nit-picking about breaking the No Taxi Rule two times in the same day and ‘how can we ever live that down and still consider ourselves frugal travellers?’
We had pre-booked a gorgeous but inexpensive boutique hotel for three nights on Expedia thinking that after Quito we would head north to Otovallo or south to Banos. The Hotel Plaza Sucre was absolutely beautiful, a converted hacienda with a large central lobby open to the second floor, a wide and inviting interior veranda with beautiful detailed railings, classy furniture, colourful walls and amazing artwork. (The best art we have seen in Ecuador to date.) Our room was well equipped with safe, satellite television, comfy bed, window that opened to the front street, hot shower and even included breakfast – a gorgeous little posada perfectly situated in the heart of old town, within easy walking distance of everywhere. In fact Donna states emphatically that the Boutique Hotel Plaza Sucre is one of the top hotel bargains of their entire travel career. But little did we know when we checked in that we would not be leaving after three nights, we would be hanging around for almost a week. We both suffered serious bouts of food poisoning after dinner in La Rhonda the first evening and we were down and out. Incapacitated. One day we bounced back a little and started stuffing Quito’s sights into the gaping hole in our travel addiction. Here’s what we saw - Hectic with a capital H! Think of thousands of people running into a hockey game all at once to get the best seats. Think of narrow, crowded sidewalks, incredible architecture, lush and busy open plazas, little tiny short indigenous people scurrying everywhere, towering church steeples, taxis beeping and blasting continuously, bus after bus swishing so close to the sidewalk and your body that you think your nose, or your arm, or your purse is gonna be ripped off, up hills, down hills and off in the distance more hills tightly stacked from top to bottom with houses and cars and people. Whew! A lot of Hectic. Quito was declared a UNESCO "World Heritage Site" in 1978, thanks to its historic center, which is the largest and best preserved in Latin America. A treasure trove of baroque art and architecture, including buildings, churches, monasteries and narrow streets that reflect Ecuador's unique blend of indigenous and Spanish cultures. The city’s central square in old town lies at 2,800 meters (9,200 feet) so Quito is the second highest capital city in the world, beat out by La Paz, Bolivia. But it is the largest highest capital city in the world closest to the equator because the city limits have spread to about one kilometre from zero latitude. Sights of old town rammed our headaches (caused by the high altitude) and blasted our tunnel vision with perpendicular perspectives, beautifully painted buildings, dark skinned indigenous people in colourful clothing, businessmen, poor people, well dressed young people, school kids in uniforms, nuns, tourists – they were all there. Every one of them would have loved to climb inside our camera, but did we let them? We did not. Photos were the last thing we cared about until we got better. Next day Richard was back in bed again with more problems.
One day we climbed out of bed and took a day trip to la Mitad del Mundo. We rode two very crowded local busses (total return cost for two 80 cents) and spent time examining the monument and the park dedicated to the Equator and the centre of the world. In fact, Ecuador means Equator in Spanish. We have a photo of Richard standing with one foot in the northern hemisphere and one foot in the south. If he’d had one more foot it might have been in the seat of my pants because I dragged him to so many places when he wasn’t feeling well but fortunately for my butt, both his sandals were grounded. After visiting both hemispheres at the same time Richard was completely worn out and went back to bed again. It took another two days, even with me feeding him yogurt and bananas, vitamin pills and Gatorade for the electrolytes, to be well enough to venture forth. He hung on to being sick as long as possible but on day five he was finally tired of the bed. We visited the handicraft market in the Mariscal Sucre district. We took the bus there and walked back. It was at the market that we spotted the little boy mentioned in the last blog. We found lots of things to buy at the market, fabulous deals on woven scarves and tablecloths and shawls, also tee shirts and creative silver jewellery, but alas Thelma was already packed tight with worn out clothes and Louis felt the same. So even though our hotel was nice, the next day Richard wanted out of Quito, not because it was a bad place but because it made him sick. So we took a taxi to the bus station, about 10 miles from old town and caught the first bus available for Guayaquil. We had spent so much time in Quito that it was too late to head north and too rushed for Banos. Guayaquil it would be.
The bus trip took about eight hours and was really quite uneventful except for going deaf. That’s right; all Ecuador busses are equipped with impressive speaker systems installed by hearing aid manufacturers. The speakers continually explode music and Spanish sound tracks into your head in machine gun fashion and there is only one way to turn them off or down - suicide. We are talking noise louder than anything you have ever heard before. When you need an ear drum transplant you know something was too loud. Once you’ve gone deaf after riding the bus for only eight hours, why would you worry about an upset stomach? Of course, Richard wasn’t sick any longer, he was deaf. We snacked on goodies we brought with us but we should also mention now that the very bus company with the loudest music in the world was also generous with lunch – a bag of chips about the size of a package of geranium seeds, and a bottle of pop about three inches high. Whew! We were so full but unfortunately in our eardrums, not our tummies. Many long distance busses in Ecuador have a conductor who takes the tickets and unlocks the washroom when you need it. Yes, the room is locked at all times in case you go in there and try to hide from the music. So you tap on the front window and indicate you need to use the facilities and the conductor will go back and unlock the bathroom door. But he waits outside because if you take too long he knows you are trying to install ear plugs and they are illegal on the bus. He then takes remedial action. Also, like in Mexico, the driver and conductor are separated from the passengers by a sound-proof wall with a locked door and in their compartment the sound is turned off. But the ride was good and at least we didn’t lose our eyesight….
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