Edwin took us around the old city on Saturday night, but the traffic was murder. Still, we got to see some of the famous collection of cathedrals and churches, the presidential palace, etc. One or more of the churches is completely covered with gold leaf in the interior. The presidential palace has a plaque on the wall to commemorate the day one of the presidents got hauled out and macheted to death; later Sharon's boyfriend Giuseppe told us it was an ancestor on his mother's side, and explained how and why it happened: the man was a womanizer who got caught by the husband. Ecuadorians don't brook with poor behaviour from their politicians; he explained that they will march in the streets and demonstrate to get the guy bounced out immediately if he doesn't do the job right. In one eight year stretch they'd had six presidents. However, the current guy, a graduate of Stanford U., cleverly plays different classes within the electorate to maintain power.
There are jugglers and tumblers at intersections who would entertain drivers while they waited at the lights, taking their lives in their hands in the traffic, and then accepting change from the drivers along with beggars in wheelchairs, vendors of fruit and other goods. Any mentioned that many of these guys would be Cuban. There are lots of Colombians here, too.
Any (Ana) drove us around town a bit on Sunday. Giuseppe had the top of his ear (the "pinna", Deb says) slit by a soccer cleat, so Any drove him and Sharon to emergency, then did a drive-by where we'll stay this coming Saturday. We got out for a walk for us and for Olivia the schnauzer at Itchimbia, a lovely glass pavilion used for festivals, art shows, pageants, etc.
From that vantage point I took photos of parts of the city including the hill called El Panecillo (a little bread, or a bun, which is the shape of the hill), which is topped by a statue of La Virgen de Quito, complete with eagle's wings like an angel.
In the evening we went out to "Crepes and Waffles" for supper, and I had a chicken curry "Panne Cook" - a bread bowl carved out like a Hallowe'en pumpkin to hold the curry inside. It was just like the "Bani-chow" we ate in Durban, which I've always referred to as "bunny-chow"...which I suppose would make the most sense if there was rabbit meat inside it.
On Monday we hung around the house trying to connect with the person we were supposed to stay with next, a person who works with disabled programs, directly for the vice-president, she says. Eventually she phoned to tell us that her circumstance had changed, that her son didn't want to go back to school in New Orleans and his room, which she was planning to put us up in, wasn't available. We sent an email to my back-up person, but haven't had a response, and there were no responses to our general and "last-minute" requests. I get the impression that in general, couchsurfing hosts here might not be as trusting or eager to host strangers in their homes as they are on other continents - maybe a result of the sense of personal insecurity in the society.
Fortunately Edwin and Any were quick to invite us to stay two extra nights, after which we've booked into the hostel a short walk down the street from Edwin and Any's, owned by his father, I believe. Any's sister will move into our room here tomorrow. The hostel is $30/night all in for a private double with ensuite bathroom, which is fairly standard; another down the street is $36 for the same kind of room but includes continental breakfast.
Last night we hit the supermarket and made up a large soup for the whole family, because Any said that she likes soup of the sort that Deb described making to stay warm in a Canadian winter. Ours wasn't a complete success - veggies we weren't quite used to, stewing beef a bit tough, some spices we might have added that would have helped the flavour - but it was pretty good, and happily devoured by all.
We went to the market with Giuseppe and Sharon. Giuseppe is training as a chef. He is full of information that he is eager to share, and he speaks English quite well. He's Italian on his father's side (he travels to the States frequently to visit him) and Ecuadorian on his mother's side. He is a marvellous ambassador for Quito, and very proud of his city and culture.
We studied fruits both familiar and less so; some we recognised from Africa or Asia and others completely unfamiliar to us, indigenous to this area. The slaughterhouse is attached to the market so everything is as fresh as can be, but also very clean. I didn't notice a single fly in the building. We ate a good plate called hornado, of roast pork and potatoes coloured and flavoured with achiote and cheese.
The diversity of fruits and vegetables is immense, and there are many different kinds of corn (mais) and potatoes (papas). The range of flowers is also very broad. I think most of our winter roses and other flowers come from this part of the world; but here you can buy 25 roses for $1. We brought home a favourite savoury snack of mais tostada - a special kind of corn roasted for four hours in a cauldron with onion, garlic and salt; and the same kind of corn but sugared instead, which is a snack called "caca de perro" (= puppy-poops!)
We chatted with Giuseppe and Sharon about personal security in Quito...in short, there isn't much. Colombians and a brutal fiscal collapse have brought muggings, contract killings and shake-downs by police to a whole new level. Sharon described three personal robberies, two of them by corrupt policemen, while Giuseppe, who travelled long distances by bus as a professional soccer player, has been a mugging victim sixteen times. Travelling alone on foot or public transit, especially at night, is just not recommended.
Reporting to the police generally doesn't help because the robber often has family connections within the police department; and even if not, it will take a long time and a lot of trouble to have your property returned. They have a policy here that if you're mugged for less than $500, or for property for which you have no receipt, or property purchased outside of Ecuador even if you do have a receipt, they won't even take a report; and the robber, if assaulted, has more rights than the victim and won't even be charged for being in possession of a firearm and using it in the execution of a crime.
Mind you, we feel somewhat insulated from danger ourselves: we dress modestly and don't make money and valuables apparent, we avoid travelling alone or in unsafe neighbourhoods, especially after dark. The existence of our foreign embassy gives us an extra layer of protection from corrupt officials that Ecuadorian citizens don't enjoy, as long as we don't panic if we experience an attempt at a shake-down. We carry very little cash and very little of value besides (sometimes) our camera and/or cell phone. If it ever happens, it`ll be unsettling, but a small loss, and muggings rarely include assault.
Edwin talked about the very difficult business environment which has developed with the loss of treaties to major trading nations, and the laws enacted to protect workers which they can freely twist to use against employers. He gave us a tour of his factory, which covers the ground floor of his house - he has had to contract his operation from the outside building he once worked out of, and reduce his employee complement, which is how the current president's course of legislation has backfired against those he intended to help, as a result of great loss of jobs. Another result of the loss of those treaties is that it will now cost him a small fortune each year to pay for Aaron's schooling in Canada. Their company, Atex, makes very fine clothing and computerized embroidery work - golf shirts and hats, blankets, vests, pants and jackets, crests - all sorts of things.
You can hardly find a friendlier, kinder, more affectionate, politely dressed, well-mannered and helpful populace anywhere else in the world than in Quito. I look at the bars on doors, broken glass on walls, electrified or barbed wire - every home a fortress - and the constant army of police and security guards at all levels, and find that I have to do some sort of mental juggling act to keep these contrasting realities in my head at the same time. Although the traffic is horrendous and the behaviour of drivers reminds me of Karachi, the architectural design of modern commercial buildings is remarkably bold and attractive.
Many northern retirees live in enclaves in Cuenca, a smaller city with similar climate. They live cheaply here over the winters compared to being at home, and I'm told they really love to be here. From Quito you can get to a warmer town (if you'd want to) in twenty minutes, be in the jungle rainforest in three hours, or at the beach in four hours, and the road surfaces have been improved in recent years, Giuseppe tells us.
This evening we'll go to Jeannie Friedmann's house to meet her and her housekeeper Maggie from Ghana. Edwin and Any will come and meet her too.
Here are some photos, including a few from the market.
Next Post: Gold museum, tram pickpockets
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