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Main | Journal: Quito, EC | ||
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Quito, Ecuador (A Moment of Silence, Please...) Thursday, July 29 Although no one has passed away, a career worth remembering has. Now just a fellow traveler, Barry Sanders, a dazzling running back of the woeful Detroit Lions for the past decade has decided to go to Europe and leave the rest of us behind. At least I know now that my Sundays have become freed up for the fall. On unrelated note, my weeklong career as a bartender has also seemingly come to an end. Tying those napkins in a way that would make Eric Roth proud (we took a napkin folding class together on our senior cruise--he was much more capable than I), I managed to become a respectable server of beers and liquors. For my efforts, I received a total of $2 in tips for the week on top of $25 in salary. Unfortunately, health insurance--and more importantly, life insurance for dancing on the bar--was not part of the deal.Weary and weakened from a twelve-day bout with some stomach virus, I still managed to motivate myself to play tennis almost daily with the future hope of women's tennis in Ecuador. I hit around with the twelve-year-old champion of this country, while her Nick Bollitieri-impersonating coach looked on from the side. This guy has the same dark glasses, the same full warm-up suit, and the same belligerent demeanor of Andre Agassi's coach. Remember the name Gabriela about five years from now if you happen to be watching Wimbledon or the U.S. Open--she'll be accompanied by her coach that fits in with the rest. Although the cuisine of Quito had tempted me to no end, I was forced to settle for the same white rice and soup at the same table in the same Chinese restaurant for six consecutive nights. However, I am now happy to report that my stomach has improved, and that last night I ate the wonton soup and a greasy noodle dish. For the first week I spent in Quito, I really wondered if I was actually flown into another South American city or if I had wound up on the wrong flight. But after spending a weekend day in the Old Town of Quito, I realized that I was, in fact, in the right place. The more native-looking people (speaking Quechuan), the more natural-looking tourist sites (boatloads of churches and plazas), and the more worn-looking buildings (the centuries-old kind), were more of what I had expected in the first place, instead of the thousands of travel agencies, modern hostals, and American-style bars. Clearly, the New Town in which I live is appropriately named. A town just a hundred or so kilometers north of here, named Otavalo, is well-known for its Saturday markets full of vendors selling everything from some sort of disturbing animal head to anything you could imagine that could possibly be made from an alpaca, primarily its layer that had served it for warmth before the locals sentenced the poor animals to some chilly evenings in the mountains. Although the prices were already alarmingly low, I extracted more value by bargaining to the very last nickels and dimes in some cases. In other cases, I just didn't have the heart to try to knock off a few pennies from a price that already started below fifty cents. After spreading the wealth around and buying from just about every merchant"s table that I came across, I took off for the nearby town of Cotocachi, famous for its frighteningly cheap leather goods. When I arrived, I felt like I was back in Florence, although this time I was thoroughly committed to not purchasing another leather jacket even though it would have been half the price of the one I had bought two years earlier. After intense negotiations, I settled for a $60 suit bag that would have probably cost me $500 in New York and decided that I had spent enough money for the time being. Quite skeptical of the town simply for its name, I broke down and visited the town of Banos--translated as bathrooms in Spanish. A popular spot for tourists and Ecuadorians on vacation, the town certainly had quite a bit to keep the accidental tourist satisfied. However, having traveled for who knows how long anymore, I had these thoughts about the activities offered:
Mountain Biking - did it in ChileSuper Nintendo was the highlight of my brief stay in Banos and the toilets weren't even that spectacular. The monetary demoninations became an issue again when I had to pay for my Galapagos tour. Even finding a place that would give me money took nearly three hours and tested my patience beyond what I thought was possible. In the end, I found an ATM that would only belch 1 million sucres at a time, about $90. Waddling through the streets with four million sucres bulging from my pockets, I prayed that that would not be my first mugging in South America. Fortunately, I made to the travel agency without incident. But now that I"m laying out all this cash for the Galapagos, Goldstein will have to pick up the first round at Roosevelt"s when next we gather in Farmington Hills. And finally, thanks to all of you who responded to my plea for some inkling as to what you have been doing with yourselves lately. I apologize if my plea came across as harsh in any way, but six months is a long time and I truly have wondered about some of you...bear sightings are more common in the Continental U.S. nowadays. Also, my apologies go out to the Canadians on the list who I may have offended by trying to avoid kidnapping in the Columbian airport--it won't happen again. Stay tuned for my Galapagos report...the weirdos are waiting. Dan
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