The middle of the world

    Today Paulo, a driver who occasionally does deliveries for Any, took us both to Mitad del Mundo and back for $30. Even when we paid for parking and our own entry fees and museum entrance, it was half the $45 each that a local travel agency quoted us. It was a fun little trip, and we took photos, of course. 

    My daily routine is becoming clear: portfolio time every morning just like at home (except on weekends, of course), then one tourist attraction per day, then home to edit photos and write a blog, and finally a Spanish study portion of the day. And there's a collection of dvd's to watch here at Jeannie Friedman's when I get tired of reading and learning new words.

    At Mitad del Mundo we stood with one leg on either side of the equator as it was known by early twentieth century scientific measurement. Modern gps measurement puts the equator about 240 metres to the north. Paulo dropped us at a funny tourist trap called the Intiñan Solar Museum, which purports to be on the correct gps-defined equator, but when I saw the place and considered the "45 minute tour" we'd be subjected to, I opted out. You can read about that aberration in the Wikipedia article as well.

    The mountain peak that is closest to the sun is in Ecuador. Mind you, it isn't a taller climb than Everest; it's just that the earth bulges outward at the equator because of centrifugal force. Rather like my middle, I suppose, except that in my case the force is more gravitational.

    We rode on a "Touristic Train" for an overview of the site, then went inside the monument for a view from above. You go up in an elevator, but you must come down by the stairs, and at each level there is a new ethnographic exhibit featuring the different cultural and linguistic groups in Ecuador - quite a nice little museum, and I kept expecting it to end but there was always one more floor, each as interesting as the last. 

    There is an artisan's village with great traditional weaving and other crafts, and some nice looking charangos made from real armadillo shell, well made, but they looked more decorative than functional - the strings seemed too similar in diametre, like black fishing line, and I couldn't figure out how it should be tuned in order to hear the sound. You can see llamingos there (an Ecuadorian member of the llama family), have "cuy" (guinea pig) cooked on a spit, or sit in a 2,000 seat amphitheater and watch a bullfight.

    On the way there and back, there are fruit sellers in abundance, trucks and stalls by the dozens, and you can buy it all through your car window, including gorgeous bouquets of flowers and snacks of all description. We brought home a new fruit, some sort of green pod that comes from the coast, but I've forgotten the name. We got four for a buck. You eat the pulp that surrounds the seeds, and it is like sweet cotton at first, then the fibrous texture disappears as you continue to chew. Deb's not a fan, but it's okay. Not as tasty as the bag of mandarins for a buck that we also picked up (but I paid too hastily before inspecting them, darn it!), or the grenadillas, which are Deb's new favourite fruit. 

    Driving in Quito: if you can come through this traffic unscathed, you can drive anywhere. It is fluid, and you have to watch constantly for lane changers, and be ready to change lanes instantly yourself as vehicles simply stop in front of you for whatever reason they please. There are advantages; gas is $1.46/gallon, and it is open season on pedestrians - cars have the total right of way, even over zebra crosswalks at intersections. To cross a road on foot, you have to watch for an opening, and dash. 

    In downtown Quito, buses and emergency vehicles have their own two lanes in the middle of the road, with the outer lanes left for cars. That solves a few problems that we have with traffic in Toronto. A major road will usually have two or three lanes in either direction, with a thin boulevard down the middle for public vehicles; on Sundays they choose a double set of major roads and shut down one set of lanes on each, so that they become one-way streets, and cyclists - whole families out together for a Sunday ride - get to use the freed lanes in perfect safety. This weekly event is called "Ciclopaseo".

    A funny observation about making assumptions - at the mall, all the women coming out of the supermarket had their shopping carts pushed to the elevator and then to their cars by the male baggers. "Could they be so lazy?", I thought, "Or is this how they imagine women of status should be served?" After my experiences on the "trole", it suddenly clicked: female shoppers have to be accompanied to their cars by male employees in order to foil petty thieves.

Here are today's photos.

Next post: Closer to Heaven