Friday, November 20, 1998

At 3:00am, I received a wake up call in my hotel in Santiago. This, despite the fact that my plane was not scheduled to depart until 6:45. Still, I showered, packed, and went downstairs to wait for the shuttle. I was thankful there was no traffic on the way -- god knows I wouldn't want to be late!

I slept most of the way through my flights, as you might expect. Santiago to Cusco, Cusco to Lima, Lima to Guanyquil, Quanyquil to Quito. Finally, nearly exhausted, I arrived at around 2:00. Within minutes, I was in a metered taxi and on my way to a reasonable hotel in Quito "Old Town", a colonial part with all the historical sites. The taxi driver, in moderately good English, had no problem pointing out the various sites along the 20 minute drive -- this while his meter was seemingly going completely out of control. I had been duped, I'm sure, by a tampered meter. A drive that is suppposed to cost around $10 ended up costing $18.

Now, $18 is not a big deal, but it seems like a hell of a lot of money when converted to Ecuadorian currency, the Sucre. There are about 6100 Sucres for $1. Therefore, I forked over 109,800 Sucres -- hell, just make it a clean 110,000 right? Incidently, ten years ago it was about 200 for a buck. Inflation. The exasperating thing about it all is that the highest denomination banknote available is 50,000 Sucres. That's about $8 sport fans, or 5 British pounds. Go get a hundred bucks from the ATM and you end up with about 12 notes. It's crazy.

Anyway, I digress. I checked into the hotel and immediately headed out to book a tour of the Galapagos Islands, the main purpose for my visit to Ecuador. After carefully consulting my map, I decided to figure out the local bus system. The best way to do this, I've found, is to just get on the first bus you see going in approximately the correct direction. Sit near the front so you can see passing street signs. Yell loudly for the driver to stop if he ever makes a turn you don't approve of. It may take some time to get to your destination, but you learn quickly. It took me three buses to get to the general area of town where most of the travel agencies reside. I got off the bus feeling good about my effort, though I was quite hoarse from all the yelling...

I had a few requirements in mind for the Galapagos tour. I wanted a long cruise, as much as two weeks. I prefered a sailboat. I wanted SCUBA facilities on board. I wanted a totally first class boat. I wanted good English speaking, biologically trained guides. I wanted good food.

I got to a recommended tour company, Safari Tours, and sat in the waiting area while two girls were finishing their transaction. As they finished and left, I found out that Requel, a gorgeous blonde Australian from Sydney, and Jane, a very tall and strikingly beautiful creature from London, were booked on Tropic Sun for an 8 day cruise with their two girlfriends.

I sat down at the operators desk and told her my requirements. "No boats like that," she said. The closest she could come was a 12 passenger sailboat going on a 9 day cruise. The boat was first class all the way. I loved the pictures she had. The money, a quite considerable $1500, didn't really matter. I asked her to call and get a description of the passengers. I've found this to be an immense help in obtaining a quality tour... The last thing you want is to get stuck on a boat for 9 days with a boat full of German or French geriatrics. A few minutes later, I had the manifest: one couple, USA, 55 years old... one couple, France, 50 years old... one couple, Canada, 60 years old... Clearly, this would not do. "Hey, what boat were those girls booked on?" I asked.

A few minutes later, I paid $700 for an 8 day tour on the Tropic Sun. No SCUBA. Second class boat. Motor driven, not a sailboat. 48 passengers. But, at least I was assured that there were two cute and interesting single girls on board. Life could be worse.

After that adventure, I took the bus back to the hotel and napped for a few hours. After a quick cold shower, I hopped back on the bus and headed to a bar recommended by a few locals I met. The "No Bar" is a trendy spot with an American style pool table, a nice dance floor, and cheap drinks. I settled in, had a beer or two, and met Mark, a British guy just arrived for a three week holiday. We played some billards and scoped out the place.

As I was walking to the bathroom (through the dance floor, of course) I was approached by a good looking Ecuadorian girl. "You want to buy my drink ticket?" she asked. The 15,000 Sucre cover charge at the door gets you in and gets you a 15,000 credit at the bar. She didn't drink. I bought it, of course. Turns out that Maria is a 29 year old lawyer, speaks very good English, and dances Salsa like a bandit. We got along well and ended up doing the salsa and chatting until the bar closed at 2:00. We made plans for Saturday night -- a date, so to speak.

Saturday, November 21, 1998

Happy Birthday, sis! It's my sister's birthday and I was a good brother and called her -- waking her up in the process.

Anyway, I got up at decided to change hotels. Maria warned me that the part of town I was staying in was quite dangerous. I didn't think so, but I didn't want to take any chances. Also, I was getting somewhat tired of the damned bus back and forth to the happening section of town... So, I took a taxi to Quito's "New Town" and picked a quite expensive hotel near the center of the action. The taxi driver, Vladimir, spoke excellent English (he lived in New York for three years working for a bagel retail outlet). I told him about my upcoming date, and to prove it I reached into my pocket to show him Maria's phone number. Ooops. No phone number. I told him I left it at the hotel and I really needed to go back. No problem, a 180 in the middle of the street, and we were screaming back to the hotel. The maids, in an uncharacteristicly efficient manner, had already cleaned my room! No phone number. In a panic, I found the maid closet and went through the trash can -- and there it was, my little yellow paper. Safe.

Vladimir drove me back to New Town again and I checked in. The view was amazing. After a quick call to Maria to confirm our date, I decided to go on a walking tour of the town. I walked nearly 5 hours and saw most of the interesting sites in Quito -- the cathedrals, the street markets, etc. I was quite impressed with the feel of the place. The city still has a colonial atmosphere to it -- in fact, most of the original buildings still exist. There was not much poverty visible. There were very few tourists around. I felt like the city had all of the charm and few of the negatives of Lima and La Paz.

Anyway, I returned to the hotel and took a quick nap. Maria picked me up at 7:00 and we drove in her car to a quaint Italian restaurant nearby. She startled me by greeting the waitress in perfect Italian -- she had lived in Rome for a year. It had been quite some time since I had been on a date, and I was a little uncomfortable. Still, Maria was beautiful, intelligent, and seemed to get a kick out of me. I quizzed her on Ecuador's politics, economy, legal system. I found out that she lives with her parents, had a nasty divorce a few years ago that has left her quite scarred, and has an 11 year old son. Surprisingly, I wasn't the least bit shocked by that revelation -- in Latin America, it was a near certainty that she had been married and had children.

After a very nice dinner, we headed out to meet a few of her friends at a "locals only" Salsa club. She gave me some salsa lessons, I gave her some "spinning" lessons, about the only move that I'm any good at. According to Maria, people who dance Salsa well only move their hips and very little else... "It's kind of like making love," she said with a quick wink of the eye and a not so bashful expression. I needed to sit down.

Her friends were nice enough but spoke little English. After a few hours at the club, she had to get going because her father was "waiting up" for her. Back at the hotel, I gave a brief thought to hitting another bar by myself, but decided to just watch ESPN or a movie instead.

Sunday, November 22, 1998

I awoke, ordered room service breakfast, and then headed out for a day in the park. There were several art stalls displaying the traditional forms as practiced by native Indians. There were children playing on amusement park style rides. There were live bands. There were volleyballs games being played for money. I desperately asked to get on team, but as soon as any of them saw my height I was disqualified from playing.

Indian Artisans and their crafts

Scenes from the park

I headed back to the hotel at around 4 and settled in to watch some NFL football. Hey, I realize that it's not a cultural thing to do when you're in a foreign country, but what the hell! I hadn't seen a game all season, it was kind of overcast out, no stores were open, and Denver (10-0) was playing Oakland (8-2). I even called one of my best friends, Dave "Dice Boy" Lambert and placed a bet on his answering machine -- he's my favorite gambling partner, and I'm sure that I'm his based on my abysmal record against him... True to form, even in South America, I lost my $50 on Oakland. And I'm absolutely positive there is a little yellow piece of paper on Dave's computer monitor that reads: "Phil -> Dave $50, Oakland vs. Denver". Yeah, well, let it be known to all the people reading this that I'm willing to go double or nothing for one little game of Rock-Paper-Scissors. I'm definitely going rock, Dice.

I fell asleep at around 10:00 cursing the damned ineffective Oakland offense, John Elway, and I dreamt of the beautiful Galapagos Islands that I would start visiting in the morning...