Quito, or how to get high, and off to the islands, Friday 3 November

  

One of the two cathedrals we breezed through

This day's adventure is for my potting friends: Lodema, Mercy, Moira, et al. 

The Galapagos trip ended up being a saga rather than a post.  For links to the whole trip please go to the first Galapagos post.

Our Quito time was a brief but well fed. So many new foods

It was the day after Día de los Difuntos But since the government has decided to declare the holiday to be on Fridays, it was still going on. The best description I have found of this variation of this holiday is in a blog by Angie Drake including recipes. 

Colada Morada and Guauguas de Pan
Otherwise known as baby bread and that awesome purple drink

I got few photos, and most came out badly.  So the photos here are mostly things that I wanted to share with particular people.  And photos taken by other folk.

Arriving after midnight after 20 hours of travel, breakfast at 7, briefing starting at 8:30 we then had less than 15 minutes to go up, use the bathroom, put on proper shoes, clothes, hat etc. then get back down to the bus. Those of us that daned to be late (under 5 minutes) were severely scolded like little children. 

These bottles make music when you pour out the liquid

By bus we were taken to the central square of wonderful architecture, quick marched thru a wonderful museum. 

I will confess to being a museum geek.  But I could have spent days here. 

Notice the lump in the cheek.
Coca is chewed for altitude sickness.

      

 

Squirrels are everywhere

A pair of snakes

Then on to not one, but two Catholic churches where we got lectured on the history of the Catholic church in Ecuador. (Yeah I know their influence was pivotal, but I really did not need a 40 minute talk about the Jesuits.) I would have preferred a style of ‘We are going in this church, and we will meet right here in 20 minutes.”

As we passed the governor’s mansion or was it the president's office) we were shown the changing of the guard, but not allowed to slow down one little bit to watch. Then on to a wonderful lunch. with a surprising dessert. Served by someone dressed as a cucurucho, or penitent.  Look it up. It is really cool. 

   

Loaded onto a bus (the driver was amazing going thru the tiny streets with a huge bus) then up to an art museum that was closed for the day. Considering that it was a holiday it is possible that a phone call ahead might have been warranted. We were told to buy from the local artisans, but never allowed to stop to make purchases.

The lecture at 6, before dinner, was really interesting, even if I did have a problem with nodding off. (see previous note above about less than 3 hours sleep.) The poor presenter was a bit frazzled as she got caught in traffic, and got scolded rather firmly by Patricia. As an academic, her style was not especially thrilling, but she talked about the problems of poverty in the indigenous population. It was very interesting, if not to the taste of Patricia who did not approve of showing her guests the sadder side of Equator. I guess I am just Bolshie enough to actually care about the lives of the people in the places I travel.

On our return to Quito at the end of the trip scolded me for asking her to add me to the airport list when I did not hear my name listed. “I called your name.” Several other people came up to me later to say that indeed she had not called me. (More than one person had similar issues.) On our return to Quito, I was having more than my usual wobblie problems. P. kept trying to help me on and off the bus, even after being asked repeatedly not to. She would grab my arm making it more difficult for me, and I prefer the no touchy protocol for part of my Covid awareness. I should have whacked her with my walking stick.

OK enough with the whining.

At the airport in Quito, your bags are scanned and zip tied. Then you stand in a line to check into your flight. This flight has one stop then on to Balta. Oh yeah, on the way they open all of the overheads and spray something that is OK by the World Health Organization, but still a bit unnerving. Patricia was great at threading us thru the various needles in this haystack.

One flies into Balta. Once on the ground your bags, and travel documents are checked yet again.

From there you must get to either your ship or to Isla Santa Cruz. We were met by our amazing guide/host/sheep dog Lulu. And given a protocols talk, including how to hold onto the crew helping us on and off the pangas. (Side note here, if I ever again take a trip from Road Scholar it will be to be in a group led by the amazing Lulu.) Then onto a bus which drove us out to the boat. The landscape is reminiscent of some of the worst parts of Arizona. Dry, and the detritus of modern living is not coated with vegetation.

We go to the docks. While we gaped at our first boobies and iguanas, our luggage was loaded onto a Panga (aka Zodiac or dingy.) Then we were loaded in. This is not a graceful process the first few times. Or perhaps ever, but we got lots of practice.  And nobody got dropped in the process