That's a Wrap on the South American Leg

Galapagos Giant Tortoise

While sitting on a plane out of Quito, I considered writing about our time aboard a ship through the Galapagos Islands.

It was wondrous and jaw dropping. There were giant tortoises, magnificent birds and a few penguins.

I uttered, “Don’t step on that sea lion,” so many times that I lost count. And swimming with the playful critters continuously filled my mask with water because I simply could not help but laugh each time they buzzed by me.

The eight days left me nearly speechless, at least enough to admit that I simply cannot capture it in words. Instead I’ll sprinkle a few photos throughout this post.

Now we are heading back to Denver, and I’m thinking about a question that Fran asked me last night: What was your favorite part?

My favorite part of a month that started with a five-day trek to Machu Picchu, continued with a deliberately slow two-week trip from the southern tip of Ecuador through the delightful town of Baños, detoured to the bright blue and green Quilotoa Lake, stretched up to Quito, and finally ended in (with apologies to Mr. Disney) the most magical place on earth in the Galapagos?

If you’ve read my writing in the past, you probably have realized that I love the random quirky things in life.

Blue-footed boobies

I loved the fact that I woke up every morning to a glass of juice and almost never had a clue what type of fruit was in it. We drank everything from fresh pineapple to tree tomato to five or six fruits that I couldn’t pick out of a lineup and of which I still don’t know the English names, if there are any.

I loved the random stuff people were selling on the street. There was the ice cream that didn’t melt (it was made of egg whites, and I was smart enough to realize that trying it after it sat in the sun all afternoon was probably not a wise move). There was the wood board covered with remote controls that a woman was peddling while walking down a street in Cuenca. And there was the man standing in the middle of a town square offering his Burmese mountain dog to any tourist wishing to include said dog in his photos of the surrounding churches (for a fee, of course).

I loved that buses in Ecuador play terrible movies that almost certainly never saw the inside of an American theater before ending up on DVDs that are sold for a dollar throughout this South American country.

I loved that almost all hotels and hostels advertised free breakfast, followed by either HOT SHOWERS or FLUSH TOILET PAPER DOWN THE TOILET, almost inevitably in all caps and almost never offered together at the same hotel.

Magnificent Frigatebird

I sort of loved the fact that bed sheets in Ecuador are five feet long. Every night at bedtime felt like the old practical joke of short-sheeting someone’s bed. And it was always mine. Seriously, my feet and shoulders could not possibly be covered at the same time unless perhaps I slept diagonally or in a tightly-compacted fetal position.

I even loved that bathroom doors were usually about 5-foot-7. I nearly knocked myself unconscious during the Salkantay Trek, when I rushed into a bathroom and nearly split the top of the doorframe in two. Somehow I caught myself before falling to the floor (the thought of lying on that or most other bathroom floor kind of terrifies me) and continued in to take care of business. When I returned, the one girl who witnessed it looked me in the eyes, seemingly checking my pupils, and asked how I possibly survived that smack.

However, above all else, I loved the people we met along the way. There were just so many people who entertained us with their stories, amazed us with their generosity, and nearly always busted us into laughter.

I could not possibly describe everyone who made this leg of our journey so memorable, but here is a short list of a few of them (in chronological order).

-- Ruben: Our trek leader for the Salkantay Trail. A former accountant, Ruben quit his desk job and started leading tours to Machu Picchu. I think I can speak for our entire group (and likely every other group he has led) when I say that we are extremely grateful that he changed careers. He told our group of nine that we were a familia, and by the end of five days we were convinced of it. He kept us together on the trail with his, “Baby break, buddies?” And he kept us trucking along with, “OK, buddies, everybody good good?” I’ve had some outstanding group leaders in my life, but Ruben may have been the best. And I will forever recommend Wayki Trek to anyone who is even considering a hike to Machu Picchu. I cannot imagine any company could possibly do it better.

Land Iguana

-- Jerome and Stephanie: A couple who delayed their honeymoon until Jerome finished his master’s degree. Stephanie had a quick wit that consistently made me laugh, and the quiet Jerome was quickly nicknamed “The Puma,” because he silently and swiftly climbed up and down every hillside on the Salkantay (up to 15,000+ feet and down to just under 4,000 feet) without seeming to break a sweat. I’m pretty sure these two will return home and somehow take over Philadelphia. Just give them a little time.

-- Erin: The actress on our trek. It’s no wonder she chose her profession because she can easily entertain any room (or any trail). But the most refreshing part is that Erin refuses to take herself too seriously. When she first told us she was an actress, she quickly added that we might recognize her as a dead prostitute on one of those forensic detective shows. And she did the voiceover of animated body parts on a few commercials, a fact that will hopefully make the trivia section of her IMDB.com profile once she really hits the big time.

-- Tony:  A guy who, like us, left his job to travel. He thinks he will be on the road for about a year, most of which will be in South America. But he might hit Southeast Asia. He’s not sure. He went to Colombia and decided he loved it, so he stuck around for a few months. We met him in Baños, then strangely ran into him in the middle of the Galapagos Islands a few weeks later. In my opinion, he’s doing this right. He is letting the trip and his experiences dictate where he goes and how long he stays. I look forward to following the rest of his journey online.

Galapagos Penguins

-- Ruth and Will: Two people cycling from Rio to Buenos Aires to Los Angeles and over to New York. It’s a two-year ride. They are both former travel guide writers from the UK, a job that makes me infinitely envious. Their focus now is on their ride and enjoying the journey. You can follow along at http://www.contoursofacountry.com/.

-- Rene: The owner of MTS Adventures, a company that guides tours in Baños for rafting, canyoning and any number of extreme activities. Rene has long black hair that cascades from his helmet during canyoning trips, which he leads three times per day, seven days a week. He readily admits that he speaks Spanglish, although his English is remarkably good. Except when it came to the German girl whose English was in a British accent. Rene did not understand a word she said. Apparently, he only understands American. That’s probably due to his obvious love of American music, specifically Guns ‘n Roses. He’s got a Slash figurine above his desk, and he named his son Axl.

-- Robin: The woman from Virginia who was moving to Ecuador. Robin wanted to see the world, so she searched the internet for foreign places that were good for Americans. She settled on Ecuador, and we met her on her first trip to figure out where she wanted to move. It’s amazing to see someone make such a bold and life-changing decision, and it appears to be right for her.

-- Church Group from Germantown, Ohio: There were 15 passengers on our cruise in the Galapagos, and 11 of them were part of a church group from a small town in Ohio. They had finished a mission trip elsewhere in Ecuador and were finishing their trip with a few days at sea. Honestly, I was a little apprehensive at first. When you get a single group taking up the bulk of a tour like this one, the others can feel like outsiders and have little control over how things go. This group, though, welcomed us from the beginning. By the end of the first day, we were laughing over meals and sharing the wonders of the islands with each of them. They did not force their faith on us, but they welcomed our thoughts and opinions. We were on the boat for eight days, but the church group left after four. We were truly sorry to see them go.

Sea lions were literally all over the Galapagos

-- Simon: The safari guide from South Africa, who was one of the great people that replaced the church group for the second half of our cruise. One of the biggest joys of traveling is meeting people and talking to them about where they’ve been. It’s also one of the costly parts of traveling, because it often gives you more places to add to your list of future places to visit. Simon was a passenger in the Galapagos, just like us. But his stories about his regular job of leading safaris all over South Africa (and neighboring countries) had almost all of us ready to plan our flights to Johannesburg. It was easy to tell that Simon was a brilliant tour guide. And there was just something about the fact that he hadn’t worn shoes since a wedding at least a year ago. I look forward to Barefoot Simon taking us through Kruger National Park.

There were so many others, too. And all of them make me smile. I hope I showed enough gratitude for their kindness and their stories when I was with them all.

As we finish the South American leg of our odyssey, I’d like to thank all of those people we’ve met. And I can’t wait to meet many more in the U.S. and Europe.

Leg 2 starts later this week. 

Don't Tell Mom About Quito

There are certain blogs that won’t see the light of day until after we are free and clear. That’s mostly because I prefer when my mother doesn’t begin worrying unnecessarily. That’s the reason I’m setting this blog to publish tomorrow, when we’re in the air heading away from the Ecuadorian mainland.

We are on our fifth night in Quito, where we are staying in a B&B right in the middle of Plaza Foch, an overpriced and overly loud bar district that seems to be popular with 18-20 year olds. It’s fairly similar to Lodo in Denver, Westport in Kansas City or whatever the popular downtown district might be in your given city. I’ve yet to get the history of the name, but you can probably figure out how they use the name Foch as a not-too-creative play on words.

If someone can come up with rationale
about why you would name a restaurant
"G Spot," I would love to hear it.

It’s pretty clear that many of the bars want to sound American, and therefore they choose American-sounding names. Unfortunately, they don’t have anyone doing due diligence. That’s why one place is called Tijuana (I’m assuming that’s where you go if you’re looking to blackout and wake up minus a spleen), another called the G-Spot Bar & Grill (which would be a lot better if it was tricky to find), and the Dirty Sanchez (unless you’re my mother – or anyone’s mother for that matter – feel free to look that up on Urban Dictionary, if you want to make a scrunched up face and say, “Awwooo” or something along those lines).

The B&B is a pretty good deal. For both of us, we pay $38 per night and we’re within easy walking distance of hundreds of restaurants.

This place also gives us the freedom to make choices. For example, when showering, we can have either hot water or water pressure. It can be kind of a fun game in that “which form of torture would you choose if you had to” sort of way. When we booked, we thought each room had private baths, but we were mistaken. There are three bathrooms for the seven guest rooms, which has not been a huge issue. I heard that the upstairs shower has hot water, but it’s a tub and you have to have cold water splashing out of the spigot and onto your feet. Sounds fun, but I have yet to try it.

They keep the entire B&B remarkably clean, the rooms are large, and the owner is exceptionally friendly and helpful. He even acted as guide on a tour to a few towns north of Quito, an all-day excursion that was fun and included many places we never would have known about otherwise.

And, as I mentioned, it’s located right in the heart of the action.

If the mood strikes us, every other door leads to a karaoke bar, including one directly below our window, so we’ve got that going for us. You can’t help but hear them as you walk by, and I can tell you with complete sincerity that no one who is singing in those establishments will ever sing anywhere other than those establishments. If you’ve ever heard cats fighting, you’ve heard more tonality.

This guy was outside Red Hot Chili Peppers,
not the Dirty Sanchez. 

Yesterday afternoon, we tried to go to a bar that had the World Cup game between the Netherlands and Spain on their televisions. We got carded. We had been told by many people not to carry our passports and instead to take along a photocopy of it. We produced said photocopies, as well as our Colorado driver’s licenses. They turned us away. Considering everyone in the bar looked about 12 years old and drinking on bad fake IDs, I’m assuming we were too old to drink there. We wandered across the street to a dive bar. It was far better anyway.

Throughout Ecuador and Peru, I’ve noticed a lot of things that simply wouldn’t fly in the States. I’m not saying that the U.S. is right about everything, but I do appreciate that they don’t allow street crews to cut off pipes or rebar a few inches above the sidewalk, leaving them in perfect position to put an enormous hole in the bottom of your foot. You basically have to look down and carefully place each step, or the street might turn into a life-like cheese grater.

The B&B is also convenient to just about anything you need. There are two convenience stores within 50 feet, a couple pharmacies are around the corner, and there are 2-3 guys outside the door at all hours offering different items for sale.

Here’s how one such conversation went today.

Man with a beard and American accent: Hey, are you guys from Denver.

Me, a little surprised until I realized I was wearing a Denver Basketball shirt: Yes.

Man: Denver’s got some crack neighborhoods, doesn’t it?

Me, not sure whether he means “crack neighborhood” as in a hip way of saying “cool neighborhood” that I’d never before heard or “crack neighborhood” as in mucho drug dens (either way the answer would be the same in any city): Yes.

Man: You know this is a crack neighborhood, right?

Me (still thinking the answer is the same regardless of the definition of “crack neighborhood): Yes.

Man: Want any cocaine or marijuana?

Me: Nope. All set.

It was the fourth time we had received that question. Once was literally five seconds before he started talking to us. It happened twice more before we called it a night at 9:30 p.m.

Aside from getting to know the local dealers a little better than we would have preferred, nothing too bad has happened to us. For the most part, the worst we’ve dealt with has been pushy idiots on the sidewalk trying to convince us to go in just about every dance club. Since it’s usually been before 10 p.m., there has never been anyone in there – apparently they thought we were the answer to start getting the crowd in the door. Because nothing draws crowds like the 30-somethings wearing running jackets and sneakers.

Quito has a lot to offer. It’s got some amazing churches, including La Compania which has about as much gold as Fort Knox, and the restaurants have been far better than other places we’ve been in Ecuador (including Achiote, where we ate twice because it’s ridiculously tasty, close to where we’re staying and fairly inexpensive).

Quito also gave us our second viewing of a fistfight during this trip. The first was in Cuenca, when we were on a bus and saw two 20-something guys on the side of the street throwing haymakers at one another. The strange part was actually seeing 15 people around them, none of whom appeared to notice or pay any attention to them at all.

The one today was a little more interesting. We were drinking coffee in the oldest café in Quito, when we noticed a commotion outside. The police were talking to a group, much of which seemed completely confused.

That’s when two 70-something women started shoving each other and preparing to throw punches. A cop stepped in before it escalated, but it did provide us with something else we had never seen prior to that moment.

We leave for the airport and a flight to the Galapagos Islands at 6 a.m. I’m ready to leave Quito, but there are things that I’m sure I’ll miss. Plaza Foch just isn’t one of them.