I got up early, used the Internet, and had breakfast. Then I took a taxi from Villa Nancy to a stop on the busy Avenida Occidental where I could catch a bus for 2 to the town of Otavalo, which lies about 30 miles north of Quito ATCF. Though intrigued by my Footprint South American Handbook 2008's description of the town as being "...set in beautiful countryside, with mountains, lakes and small villages nearby," I was going to Otavalo to see its market.
Vendors boarded the bus, rode it a ways, and sold their wares which included such snacks as sealed, push-up, flavored icy treats (10 cents) and papitas (homemade and home-packaged potato chips that were terrific--30 cents). The bus was comfortable, an American movie dubbed in Spanish played on the screen up front, and I kept watch outside as we followed the winding Highway 35 through rugged terrain, gaining and losing elevation on the way to Otavalo.
Day 11 of my trip was a Sunday; the big market days in Otavalo are Saturdays. Nevertheless, the market is active every day, and a visitor on any day can get a sense of why it's considered one of the best (if not the best) markets in all of South America and why it's included in the arbitrarily chosen selections listed in "1,000 Places to See Before You Die."
It was cloudy and cool when I arrived in Otavalo. A light rain was falling. I took a taxi from the bus terminal to the Plaza de Ponchos and soon found myself seeking a snack and shelter in the Shanandoa Pie Shop (right on the plaza at Salinas y Jaramillo). One look at the lemon meringue, apple, strawberry, blueberry, and chocolate pies and I was hooked. (Alas, though the menu included mora pie, that variety--made from the delectable, blackberry-like fruit grown in the region--was not available.) I chose the lemon meringue and sat down, the only customer in the shop.
It wasn't long before some other people came in, including Mike and Bonnie ________. They were gringos of approximately my own age (62). I asked, and when they told me they lived in Ecuador and were just visiting Otavalo today, I assumed that they were American ex-pats who were getting a little more out of their retirement dollars by living in Latin America. I was wrong.
Mike and Bonnie were missionaries who had lived in Ecuador for 30 years. They were both from small towns in the panhandle of Texas who had known each other from their school days. Their children, who loved Ecuador and would have preferred to have been there, were more-or-less on parentally-enforced sabbatical back in the United States. Mike was still working, likely with the great assistance of his wife. I sensed that they would have to make major decisions about their own future relatively soon, such as when and where to retire.
Another gringo in the pie shop heard our English conversation and asked if she could join us. Her name was Shelly and she was from New Zealand. She was around 40 years-old, was traveling alone, and would meet an acquaintance later today in Otavalo. For now, though, she and I and the missionary couple had a pleasant half-hour conversation before going our separate ways.
As I mentioned, Saturday is the day to experience the grand spectacle of Otavalo, a day that features separate livestock, small animal, and produce markets in addition to the everyday artesanias market. Even today, though, the artesanias market filled Plaza de Ponchos and the streets which bound it on four sides. The scene resembled an almost unbroken sea of bright blue plastic tarps, underneath which a vast selection of handmade crafts were displayed.
Artesanias market, Plaza de Ponchos
The indigenous Otavalenos are a handsome people renowned for their textiles and crafts, especially those made from wool. My favorite items were the choles, colorful and silky-smooth wool items that may have been designed as clothing accessories (shawls), but could just as easily be utilized to accent one's household decor. There were wonderful items featuring embroidery on natural linen, from tea towels to tablecloths; my desire to purchase these items vied with my need to conserve space in my already overstuffed luggage.
The Otavalenos were impeccably and beautifullydressed in colorful native dress. Many of the women wore gold necklaces, the stacked strands sometimes reaching three inches in width. Often there was a quiet baby on their back, bundled tightly and securely and almost invisible. The men, rarely much more than five feet in height, typically wore their long, jet-black hair in a single long braid.
Otavaleno women, Plaza de Ponchos
I spent several hours in the market, appraising items offered by first one vendor, then another. I looked at knit woolen hats (bought some), hand-crafted dolls (sure! I have a granddaughter, don't I?), alpaca scarves (nope), and jewelry (hardly takes any room, right?). Local jewelry craftsmen (and -women) work in silver and seem to favor the regional minerals lapis, turquesa, and jaspe rojo in their settings. Bargaining, even protracted bargaining, is expected before settling on a price acceptable to both parties.
(Left) Wooden masks; (right) silver jewelry
I remained on the plaza until early evening. Vendors began to store their wares and prepare to close for the day. Night comes early near the Equator, and I still had to retrace the 1-1/2-hour bus ride back to Quito and the Terminal Terreste. I thought about the warnings I had received regarding the dangers of the streets of Quito in general and the bus terminal in particular.
I decided that I would prolong my visit anyway, maybe find someplace to eat. I ended up at a very nice place called S.I.S.A (don't ask) located at Calderon 409 y Sucre. The restaurant was large, open, nicely decorated, and virtually empty at the early dinner hour of 5 p.m. I ordered a filet mignon for $5.50 that included papas fritas (French fries), arroz (rice), verdudas (vegetables), pan (bread) and was served, as is served with virtually every meal in every restaurant in this part of the world, a bowl of aji, a chile-based sauce that is distinctively different each place you try it. Ruth's Chris needn't fret about losing market share to S.I.S.A.'s filet, but it made for a good meal. And I'll be darned if my waiter didn't present me with a braided gift (regalo) with "S.I.S.A" hand-stitched in it as a memento of my visit to the restaurant.
The buses back to Quito, while frequent, seemed to depart not so much on a schedule, but when they were filled to their capacity. A leather-lunged barker stood outside the bus, loudly repeating "Quito, Quito, Quito" over and over again, never stopping until we pulled out of Otavalo.
Still wary because of the numerous warnings I'd received about the dangers of being out in the city, I got in a taxi as soon as the bus stopped at Quito's Terminal Terrestre. Although it should not have taken more than 20 minutes, it took an hour for the driver to find my lodging, frustrating both of us greatly. Part of the problem was trying to read miniscule maps in the inadequate lighting of the taxi, and part was because my Footprint South American Handbook 2008 guidebook still listed an old address for Villa Nancy. I finally arrived at the hostal at 10 o'clock and wasted little time in getting to bed after a long day exploring a little corner of Ecuador.
The weather looked promising when I got up this morning. I enjoyed Villa Nancy's fine breakfast, gathered those things I thought I would need for a day spent out-and-about, got instructions for taking public transportation to a site called Mitad del Mundo, and headed out onto the streets of Quito.
I was no longer overly concerned about my personal safety and was not reluctant to explore the city on my own. Prudence dictated that one be aware of their environment and that one's things--daypack and camera--not be too available for anyone who might want to relieve you of them. But such precautions would be judicious anywhere.
I walked north on Av. 6 de Diciembre, then west on Av. Colon through a thriving commercial district alive with traffic and pedestrians. It was probably 1-1/2 miles to a stop on the Metrobus line where I would board my first bus.
I mentioned in yesterday's account that there are three main mass-transit routes in Quito, each running north-south and roughly parallel to each other, and each operating at fairly rapid speed in dedicated lanes on major thoroughfares. I passed an Ecovia stop right outside Villa Nancy, then a stop on the Trole line as I walked along Av. Colon, before reaching the Seminario Mayor stop on the Metrobus line. The cost of riding on any of the three lines is 25 cents. There is a fleet of blue buses called Tipos that must number in the many hundreds that can transport passengers virtually anywhere in Quito, operating frequently on routes that supplement the three express lines. The only trick is reading the signs posted in the bus windows and figuring out which of the many to board (there could be four or more at any one corner at any one time, each going the same direction).
Scenes from Quito mass transit: (above, left and right) Tipo bus and Trole station; (below, left and right) Metrobus station and transfer station
I saw many American restaurants doing business in Quito and throughout South America, some of them expected (McDonald's, KFC, Pizza Hut), others not (Dunkin Donuts, Baskin-Robbins, Papa Johns, Tony Roma's). I can report that the most numerous of the franchises, without doubt, was KFC which easily had twice as many locations as Mickey D's, and likely more than that. As I passed a large KFC on Av. Colon I noticed that their playroom for kids was called 'Chicky Party.'
Large KFC on Av. Colon, Quito, Ecuador
The Metrobus that I boarded took me perhaps 5-to-7 miles beyond the Seminario stop, to a transfer station at its north terminus. I boarded another bus at the transfer station that would deliver me to the entrance of Mitad del Mundo, perhaps another 8-to-10 winding miles away, for 35 cents.
Mitad del Mundo (Spanish for 'middle of the world') is an imposing monument built to commemorate an 18th century French expedition that determined the location of the equator. Why the expedition chose this spot in what is now the country of Ecuador rather than, say, somewhere else in South America--or in Africa or southeast Asia for that matter--I cannot say, but their work has stood the test of time: recent GPS measurements are only about 150 meters different than those made by sextant and chronometer. (GPS: 00 00.000S / 78 27.335W)
A long landscaped walkway leads from the entrance to the monument itself. A four-sided stone tower well over 100 feet in height supports a giant globe. An elevator took me up to a platform just below the globe for nice views in every direction of the compass. My descent by stairway took me through exhibits depicting many of the numerous cultures that comprise the nation of Ecuador.
The monument and views from on top, Mitad del Mundo
The weather was perfect for visiting the site but, being a weekday, there were few people at Mitad del Mundo. I visited a few shops and sat on the patio of a restaurant to write a bit and to enjoy a milkshake-like drink called a bebida made from my new favorite fruit, the mora. Interestingly, one of the shops that also serves as a post office would stamp your passport to validate your visit to the equator; I had never had my passport stamped by any agency other than customs upon entry or exit into/from a sovereign nation.
I left without making more than a casual effort to find the Museo Inti-Nan which is located outside, but nearby, Mitad del Mundo. Other gringos told me that it was very interesting and well worth visiting, but time was my enemy if I was to see anything else of Quito on this day. And so I retraced my steps back into the city, this time riding the Metrobus almost to its southern terminus in Quito's colonial Old City.
Many of the buildings in the Old City date from the 1500's. Its cultural significance is recognized by its designation as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I wanted to get familiar with some of its landmarks so that a visit planned for tomorrow morning could be made without wasting time simply getting oriented. If you are i simplen an open area and can see in all directions, or if you can spot landmarks looking up or down one of the streets, orientation is fairly: the Old City is bounded by prominences at each end--to the north is the large gothic La Basilica; to the south is Cerro Panecillo, a sizeable hill topped by the statue Virgen de Quito.
Views from the Old City: (Left) Cerro Panecillo, and (right) La Basilica
Most of the streets in the Old City are cobblestone, and so are many of the sidewalks. Picturesque stone walls, up to 30 feet in height, are found here and there, some built to accommodate plants growing from them. There may be a dozen churches (iglesias) in the Old City, perhaps half of them being architecturally or culturally significant. Plazas dot the area providing wonderful landscaped oases for rest and refreshment with the added bonus of providing great people-watching opportunities.
I made my way upwards from the Metrobus stop to La Basilica. This church is not colonial in age (it was begun in the early 20th century) or architecture (it is gothic in style). It was interesting, though. I just had time for a quick tour before it closed for the day. Its flying buttresses, immense nave, and stained-glass windows were notable. And how about those gargoyles? Rather than demons or other fantastic figures, this church was decorated with birds and other animals of land and sea that represented Ecuador and the Galapagos Islands.
Some views of the Gothic La Basilica
I topped off my visit to La Basilica, literally, with a drink in the church's Cafeteria Torre Vlass high above the streets. The cafe had an array of windows that provided views of the Old City and of Quito itself in one direction. A thunderstorm could be seen approaching from the south. I saw no reason to do anything other than relax and enjoy something called Capuchino vlass, a hot drink made with amaretto.
I left La Basilica at its 5 o'clock closing hour, taking time outside to photograph some of its unique exterior. I walked to a nearby stop of the Trole line, pushed myself into the packed car, and rode it north to Av. Colon. I found an Internet business where I could catch up on some email and journal entries.
It was dark when I decided to undertake an interesting task before eating dinner. Tom Grimwood, a friend from Kansas as well as my Spanish instructor, had asked me to deliver a note to an acquaintance of his who lives in Quito. Just one problem: Tom didn't have either a telephone number to contact the man, nor even an address, when I left on my trip.
I was not able to find the name in a telephone book but, after I had arrived in Quito, I got an email from Tom: he had been able to find an address but he didn't know in which part of Quito it was located. I got the idea that maybe I could Google the address and come up with something. Sure enough, it worked! Google recognized the address and provided a map showing its location which was not all that far from where I was staying.
And so I hired a taxi, showed the driver the address, determined the cost of the fare ($2), and off we went. We drove directly to the intersection of two streets where the address should have been. Neither the driver nor I could see any house number that seemed even close to the one I had been provided. We drove slowly in one direction, turned around, then crawled past the intersection going in the other direction, always looking for the address.
The driver rolled down his window to ask first one person, then another, if they knew how to find the address. I had him stop to ask employees of several businesses--a pharmacy, a restaurant, a corner market--who I thought would surely know someone who had lived nearby for many years. No one knew the name or the address. My driver did not give up easily. Again we rolled up and down the street, looking.
At last I told him that we should give up the search, that he should take me back to a restaurant close to Av. Colon near where he had picked me up almost an hour ago. As we approached the restaurant, I reached for money to pay my driver. The fare, I knew, was $2 for each direction, but the driver had easily spent an additional 30-to-40 minutes simply helping me to find an address. When he realized that I intended to include a tip (propina) in addition to the $4 total fare, he refused to even consider taking it. I don't know why he would not accept it; perhaps because he knew that I was simply trying to do a favor for a friend?
Why couldn't we find the address? My first guess was that the house-numbering system had been changed by the city sometime in the past (that much is certain); since no one around the intersection knew the man, I also think that he may have moved to another location in Quito some time ago.
I got out at a restaurant called Turtle's Head (La Nina 626 y J.L. Mera) that sounded good in my guidebook. Oh, yeah, it was. Turtle's Head is an English pub kind of place, adorned with flags of the United Kingdom, classic rock playing in the background. Inside there were only gringos, travelers and/or ex-pats living in Quito. The old adage, 'Work is the Curse of the Drinking Class,' adorned one wall. A woodburning fireplace was being tended.
I took a seat at a large table with benches on either side and candles flickering in its center. Several microbrews were available, including: Llama Negra ('as dark as your conscience') and Tortuga Pale Ale ('not that slow!'). A plasma TV was playing a baseball game between the Red Sox and Tigers, what better to go with an ice-cold draft beer? The three innings of the game represented the only television I would watch during the whole trip.
Fish-and-chips seemed like a natural choice in an English pub. My order was preceded by the best bread I had on the whole trip. Then I was brought a plate with three large battered fish fillets, a generous order of very good chips (French fries), and a portion of hideous vegetables that spent too much of their lives inside a tin can. Overall, though, I'd go back in a minute.
It was getting late by the time I left Turtle's Head, perhaps 10 o'clock. When I was let out of the guarded street entrance, I asked directions back to Av. Colon. I was disoriented, walking somewhat aimlessly which is the worst way to walk if personal security is an issue. I pulled out my GPS, clicked on 'Villa Nancy,' and was soon on my way directly back to my lodging and my bed.
Subscribe to this Site
Comments for "SOUTH AMERICA 2008--Days 11 ...
October, 2007