It rained hard overnight, and threatened rain today, so we took the trole down to the Banco Central Museo. It's not huge, but quite a good museum, and we enjoyed the afternoon there. Deb particularly enjoyed the pottery (our photos here), some of it exceptional artisanship from an era we tend to think of as not that sophisticated. She marvelled at its creativity and inventiveness, and that it was all kiln-fired pottery, even some rather enormous pieces.
We went through a chamber of golden objects. The Incas were skilled metallurgists in copper, silver and gold; they could blend copper and gold through a process of hammering and welding, and they were the first to alloy platinum with gold.
We had agreed that we would take a taxi to the museum today. It really is cheap - $1.50 ($2 with tip) compared with 50 cents for the two of us on the bus. However, today we ended up choosing the trole again. On the way down, we were packed in like sardines, as previously. Deb said yesterday she'd leave her purse at home, but she took it anyway. A fellow held a book above her purse with one hand, and slipped his other hand into her purse. Fortunately all he came up with was a slip of paper, and she saw that. She didn't have any money in her purse.
At the same time, another fellow about my size was pushing hard against me in the crush near the back door, and I suddenly realized that he was still pushing against me even though a space had opened up behind him. I wondered what was wrong with him, then realized his hand was in my pocket. He'd felt my little pocket dictionary and thought it was a wallet. He might have felt my camera too, but that was hanging inside my trousers on its wrist-strap.
I squeezed his fingers very hard while keeping his hand trapped inside my pocket, suggesting I might break them, and spoke angrily to him in English, which probably also confused him and put him on the defensive; we pulled up to the stop and the back doors opened, and I "encouraged" him to leave through them - with a push - and let his fingers go, filling the space so that he had no chance to squeeze back in.
No-one around me seemed to find this incident unusual, and no-one so much as smiled that the pick-pocket had been foiled. No-one would meet my eyes. It's an Alice-in-Wonderland world here. In Africa when you call out a petty thief, bystanders will usually beat him up or at least help him on his way with kicks and slaps, and congratulate the would-be victim.
The taxi home was a much smarter choice, and well worth including in our daily budget, for peace of mind. Bottom line, probably, is that public transit in Quito is not for foreign visitors, and not a way to try to meet and experience the local populace. Edwin has never let his kids take the public bus in Quito. They're cheap, at a quarter a ride, but incredibly packed at any hour of the day - perhaps because they don't charge enough to buy more buses! It's a catch-22, though; minimum wage here is about $250/month, which only works out to less than $2/hour, and these workers have to get back and forth to work. And they carry many who are unemployed, I'm guessing.
Speaking of Edwin, he and Any generously came through with a further offer to let us stay here until we move to Jeannie's apartment on Saturday. Sadly, the reason they were able to was because Any's brother-in-law lost the salesman job he'd held with Ford Motors for the past two years, and her sister was unable to come to visit her at this time. Any and Edwin are incredibly busy in their Atex Bordado factory these days, working twelve hours a day trying to get through a rush of orders for the Christmas season. They lost their chauffeur/delivery driver recently, which makes their work load even heavier, although I understand that Edwin's brother is helping out with that.
I can't help feeling that it was a lucky accident that our travel agent booked our flights a week before we were actually supposed to show up at Jeannie's; Any and Edwin picked up on our general request while other direct requests were ignored by supposed CouchSurfing hosts, and we have made a friendship with a family of four that I believe will last for years, especially now that we will be able to serve as a lifeline to their son Aaron in his first year away from home, at the Scarborough campus of the University of Toronto.
Next post: New digs, new dog
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