I’m woken by the feeling of physical contact to my leg. Extremely confused and groggy, I instinctively resist whilst I try to understand what on earth is going on. I appear to be sat on a step on a well lit street corner. All I can hear is the muffled sound of nightclub music coming from nearby clubs. I’m struggling to acknowledge how I got here. You know that feeling when you wake up in a new environment and it takes a few seconds for it to register that you stayed at a friend’s house? Only this time it’s much less clear where I am and how I ended up here. As I slowly acknowledge what is happening in front of me, fear starts to overwhelm me.
I vaguely see groups of people hanging outside bars but nobody is remotely close to where I’m sat; apart from one person. A guy who I now understand is trying desperately to get into my pocket. I slowly come to the realisation he’s trying to steal my phone. The brand new Samsung Galaxy S7 my brother brought with him just a few days ago when I met him in Quito airport. This would be a disaster. I had paid a small fortune for this phone as it’s the one thing I can always rely on to get me around and ensure I can take capture photographic memories of my journey; and, my old phone was almost dead. With the state I’m in, should I lose my phone, I may not be able to find my brother, any of my friends, and would struggle to find my hostel. Not to mention the £400 I’d spent on it just a week before. How far was this guy willing to go to steal a phone which, for all he knows, could be worth anything from £10 to £1,000?
How not to cross a border
Entering Ecuador was interesting. I arrive at the border after following instructions from a blog explaining how to cross it from Colombia. When I arrive, I grab a coffee in a tiny run-down cafe to consult the blog again. This will be the first time I ever cross a border without arriving via plane. When I think I have it nailed, I ask for the bill. $1 por favor, the lady says. Confused, I ask her to repeat. Confirmation that shes asking for American dollars. Only now do I realise that the van dropped me off at the Ecuadorian side of the border – I’m no longer in Colombia and I don’t have the currency to pay the bill. I’m forced to use a dodgy looking guy in the street selling currency, luckily the cash was legit, contrary to other stories I’ve heard. It’s crazy how easily you can cross the border here. I can literally walk across the bridge between Colombia and Ecuador without any prompt. Do I really need to queue for four hours or so? I play it safe and decide I should be a “legitimate” tourist.
Still not really knowing what I need to do. I find a cute girl in the lengthy South-American dominated queue, who looks like she may speak some English. I ask her what the crack is. She explains that I need to first get an “exit” stamp from Colombia before crossing the border and getting my visa for Ecuador. I recognise this girl from the bus station a few days ago when I was moving southwards through Colombia in a city called Pasto.
I queue for my exit stamps for about an hour or two and chat to some fellow backpackers in the queue. Upon joining the end of the line to enter Ecuador, I have number 382 written on my wrist to ensure I don’t queue jump. Three hours later I have my stamp. I learn that the vast majority of the people trying to get a visa are from Venezuela, fleeing their country because of the chaos. Understandable, but I’m a little confused as to why immigration doesn’t appear to have reacted to the increase in demand. The blog post I read from just a few years ago stated the queue time was around 20 minutes.
A sign of things to come?
I spend the night in an Ecuadorian city far north called Ibarra. After the pretty bad start to life in Ecuador, I hope for better things. Instead, things continue to go southwards. As I’m grabbing a shower I smell burning. Looking up at the electrical shower contraption, I see smoke rising from some wires which appear to have been taped (bodged) together. Slightly annoyed by this, on checkout I try to explain (using my still-pretty-bad-Spanish) that the shower has a problem and is pretty unsafe. To my amazement, the guy responds by telling me he’s aware of the problem. This annoys me. The hostel know the shower has a huge risk of giving it’s customers a few volts??? I’m denied a refund on the room and naturally, a few days later, submit my first negative reviews to Google, Trip Advisor and Hostelworld. Good start.
Somewhere along the bus journey to Ecuador’s capital city, Quito, I realise that this country has truly stunning landscapes. Almost everywhere you look there are mountains in the horizons – incredible.
When I hit the transport terminal in Quito, I realise that, after around four months, I’m now at the second biggest city on my travels so far. Somehow bus transport is 50% of the cost compared to Colombia. For just 25 cent you can travel anywhere in the city. I later realise that everything else though is a little more expensive. It doesn’t help that they use the US Dollar here. Upon checking into my hostel, I head straight out and to my delight, find a craft beer bar – here I finally finish my blog on “settling in Medellin part 1“.
When the world keeps throwing people together
The next day, just before checking out of my hostel, I realise I recognise the girl who is sleeping in the bunk below me in our four bed dormitory; but I can’t work out where I know her from. She asks me how I got on at immigration, then I realise who it is. Her name is Cecille. For the third time in a few days we coincidentally meet. According to Booking.com, there are 685 “properties” in Quito. Not only did we check into the same one, but we were put in the same dormitory and even bunk bed – weird? For this reason only (jokes, she was cute) I get her number.
A familiar face
Later that day I arrive at Quito airport to meet Alex. I had been really looking forward to this for a while now. It would be the first time in four months that I would see a familiar face, let alone close family. I had so much to tell him that I had to write a list.
I had some ideas for how we would spend the first few days of our two weeks together, but equally I wanted him to experience the “take it as it comes” approach that I had willingly adapted to.
I couldn’t resist taking a video of Alex’s arrival:
We head to the new hostel I’d picked out, drop off his stuff and go straight for beers to catch up.
How to travel my way…
A lot of people I meet out here have a very well thought out and structured approach to their travels. They book flights, buses, tours, hostels etc. in advance so they know where they will be and when. Of course every person has their own way and there is no “right” way. My way, though, is a little more laid back. I book nothing in advance. I like to have total flexibility so I can extend or shorten my trips where ever I am, and so far it had worked well. I just have a list of places I would like to see or places that fellow travellers had recommended.
So, the next morning we head for coffee to discuss some ideas for the day. We come up with, well, not very much. Heading back to the hostel to freshen up, we bump into someone, Ceci. Now this was getting strange. She’s heading to La Mitad Del Mundo (the middle of the world). Ecuador is the Spanish word for “equator”. This was on my provisional list so we ask to join her. Alex gets burnt to a crisp, we have some pics on the border and, within 24 hours of him being here, Alex attracts female attention, four females to be exact. They want a picture with him but his lack of Spanish means I have to translate…
Alex burns his legs pretty badly, which ruins our plans to walk to the old town for more drink. Instead we hit the square again for beer.
Alex is so burnt that it gets peoples attention. The next morning as we’re sat in a cafe some Chilean women get chatting to him and practically laugh in his face. Good start to the trip. We do all exchange numbers though. We head to the market and Alex buys some Jamaican looking lounge pants. He then gets offered to buy weed by every man and his dog.
We head for Quito old town as we hear there’s some cool stuff to see, something called El Panecillo. At the top of the Virgin Mary statue (we went for the views, not the statue…) are plenty of street food huts. I tell Alex that I see one of the women who works in a store look him up and down (kind of true); and try to convince him to talk to her, purely for my own entertainment. Somehow despite his lack of Spanish he comes away with her number.
Ensue chaos
I’d been looking forward to Saturday evening for a while. Quito has a weekly bar crawl which starts at one end of the city and finishes close to where we’re staying. Perfect opportunity to drink a lot and perhaps make some friends. Astonishingly, Alex gets friendly with an Ecuadorian girl at the very first bar. Her name is Lilly and luckily, she speaks better English than him. Here’s a video of us travelling to the next bar:
For some reason I still cannot understand, the organisers thought it would be great to include a karaoke bar on the pub crawl. Naturally I sing some Oasis with Jus, another guy who joined us on the crawl from our hostel. At this point I’ve lost Alex to Lilly but can see he’s drinking everything in sight. This could get messy.
A few hours later, we end up in some night club and I’m feeling a little tipsy but still in control, gone are the days where I enjoy getting so drunk that I can’t control my own feet.
What happens next is something that, as I sit writing this two months later, I still haven’t worked out the facts to fully understand. Within what appeared to be a very small amount of time, I go from feeling a little tipsy to almost instantly being unable to walk properly, feeling dizzy, and extremely tired, all at the same time. I get water from the bar, no help. I realise that I can no longer keep upright and feel the need to sleep, ASAP. As I’m walking back to find Alex and the others, I’m grabbed by a bouncer and escorted outside due to my inability to walk in anything remotely close to a straight line. We were warned about pick-pockets and told to keep our hands over our drinks in case they were spiked. Had someone really targeted me? Why?
I’m now outside the club and feeling increasingly exhausted. In the past, when I’ve drunk so much that I’m struggling to be in control of my feet, I’ve always found a toilet to sleep in for a few hours. I don’t have this option now, so I head for a nearby step and settle down. I vaguely remember how this all happened in great detail. But the next thing I remember is being woken by a guy who appears to be trying extremely hard to pull on my pocket.
Extremely dazed, I push the guy away in a very gentle manner, clear evidence that I had no idea what was happening. After a while he scatters away. I don’t remember how he looked, only that he was middle age, wearing pretty worn clothing and messy facial hair.
When I come around, I realise I still have my possessions and my health. Just minutes later, I’m feeling almost sober, as if the adrenaline had overcome the drink or whatever was in my system had worn off. I feel overwhelmingly grateful that I’m not harmed and still have my stuff. It was a strange feeling, as though I was happy I had just been through the experience and came out okay. It made me realise how lucky I was to be alive and well. The famous phrase should be reworded to “you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s almost gone”.
Then I realised. I hadn’t got all of my possessions at all. In fact, one of my most treasured possessions was nowhere to be seen. I checked the basics once the guy had fled, phone in one pocket, wallet in the other – I’m all good, I thought. What I hadn’t thought to check was my arm. The watch I had bought on a cruise ship to Alaska (tax free!), was missing. It only cost £70 or so a few years earlier, but it had sentimental value, and besides, I just really liked it. I felt the worn brown leather strap and small dark watch-face suited my backpacker dress style. The guy must have taken it whilst I was sleeping, before trying to take my phone and, luckily for me, waking me up. I’d struck lucky for wearing jeans tonight, as the other trousers I wear have loose pockets. Things could have turned out rather differently.
On reflection, I can think of three plausible explanations of how I got into this messy situation.
1. I drank myself into a mess, which got me kicked out of the club and resulted in me taking a power nap to recover a little. An opportunistic pick-pocket took his chance.
2. Someone saw my shiny new smart phone whilst in the club and spiked my drink, hoping I would fall asleep in the club. Again an opportunistic pick-pocket saw his chance once I was sleeping outside.
3. The person who spiked my drink was the same person who followed me outside and tried to take my phone. Pretty well organised so perhaps unlikely, but certainly possible.
I assume Alex and co are still in the club and feel the need to check he’s safe. The bouncer either didn’t recognise me, or realised I was now practically sober and let me in. When I find Alex, he’s sleeping in this exact position:
I don’t tell him what’s just happened. But suggest we leave and grab some food. He’s actually pretty drunk by now. See for yourself.
We head back to the hostel after finding perhaps one of the best fast-food inventions ever. Imagine this – hot pizza filling, inside what appears to be an ice-cream cone. Wow this stuff is good. After destroying the first ones, we order more.
The next day is my birthday-eve. A slightly different night is about to happen. But first, I head to Quito’s huge mall to get myself an early birthday present – a new watch. Well, actually I didn’t find one within my specific budget or picky requirements. Never mind. Meanwhile, Alex goes on a date with Lilly.
We all reconvene later for my birthday-eve drinks. Including guys from the hostel, Ceci, and one of the Chilean girls from the morning before, Andrea. Well, I say we reconvene. Alex attends for all of 10 minutes until Lilly shows up and they go out to dinner. I fear I’ve lost him already.
Once the place closes and most people leave, Josh, Jus and I look for more places to drink. We’re invited over to a table by a bunch of Ecuadorians. They give us some of their wine and soon we’re all kicked out at closing time. They tell us they know of a place to get more booze. Another hole in the wall, yep. They discover it’s my birthday at midnight and they are genuinely excited by the news. When the clock strikes, I get a personal birthday song and special candle to blow out from the group – how sweet!
We spend the next few hours drinking and chatting in the street, a real test of my Spanish but such a different way to spend a night. I couldn’t help but capture their positive spirits on video, they loved to dance:
Monday 29th January – my birthday!
On the morning of my birthday, I wake to some unexpected presents. My family had taken the opportunity of Alex’s visit and given him a ton of birthday cards! I wasn’t expecting the others, though. Ceci had sneakily bought me some of my favourite chocolate coated nuts and somehow found a little bow and some paper to wrap them in – how sweet!
I receive a text from Sofia, she tells me to check my backpack and get out my underwear. I probably shared too many intimate details when I told her I don’t wear underwear anymore. The message read: “Don’t worry, you don’t have to wear them – but they might hold something special for you today.” Inside are two well wrapped packages. At some point during our travels together she had sneakily planted these. Very impressive from a preparation point of view, I barely remember to greet people with happy birthday on the day itself.
One of the packages is a head-lamp. Probably the one thing I didn’t have but would have found extremely useful on many occasions to date. As I sit writing this months later, I can think of a few occasions where its become extremely useful since, power cuts being one of the biggest – they happen a lot out here!
The other package is a pull-string bag full of small stones, each with one word written on its side. A puzzle! I pop it in my bag and save it for a rainy day. The irony is, Sofia once told me how she didn’t believe in gifting things as presents, she preferred to give people a memory or experience. I think there was a small hint of humour here, knowing I would carry them around for the duration of my trip.
Today Ceci, Alex and I would visit some nearby thermal baths which are supposedly surrounded by beautiful mountain scenery. After some confusing bus changes and a little hitchhiking, we arrive at the baths. Naturally, lots of sexy and outright odd photo posing happens. What is it about being half naked in a pool which arouses the need in people to take thousands of unusual pictures?
After lots of sun and developing extremely wrinkly skin, we take a break and grab some alcohol to help dehydrate us further.
Winning at life
Suddenly an influx of young Ecuadorians hit the baths. When they see us gringos they surround us for interrogation. Naturally, Alex attracts a crowd largely dominated by women. Interestingly, the rest of the women surround Ceci, leaving me with the guys – is it something I’m wearing?
They all turn out to be college students on a day trip, ranging from 18-25. They are also learning English so we mostly overcome the gaps in our lack of Spanish by speaking Spanglish.
This is where I have my first ‘you don’t think I understand what you’re saying’ moment’. When we hit another of the pools some time later, a bunch of the students are saying something along the lines of how they find our English accents sexy. One of the girls looks over at me and says to her friend, it’s okay he doesn’t understand Spanish, instinctively I catch them off guard and respond “Si, entiendo”, (yes, I understand) a roar of laughter happens and for a short second, I feel as though I’ve just won at life.
They take our numbers so we can all meet for drinks in Quito that evening. On the return journey to Quito, Ceci and me chat whilst sneakily drinking a small bottle of rum; Alex sleeps the whole way back.
More drama?
We hit the hostel and try and gather troops for the evening. A group of around eight of us start the night playing pool at an Irish bar. Once lots of drink has happened and the bar closes, we hit a nightclub and actually get a great picture together.
Once that closes, the remaining four of us decide to look for more places to drink and almost give in when were invited into a car which is apparently trying to recruit guests for a nearby club. Out of other options and looking for a thrill, we jump in the car. I start to feel a little unsure of the situation when, after 20 mins in the car, we’re heading further and further out of Quito with no nightclub in sight. The rest of the guys: Alex, Jus and Josh tell me to chill, so I do.
When we finally arrive ten minutes later, I’ve rediscovered my uncertainty. The streets are extremely quiet and run down. We head down a typical dark alley and at the other side is a security guard who appears to be guarding an old, disused building. As we enter, I’m feeling more and more uncertain. This was a strange situation, one of those where you should probably follow your gut instincts and get the hell out, but you are indirectly influenced by the calmness of the others in the group. Perhaps I’m still a little shook up by the events of a few nights back, resulting in a slightly more cautious and pessimistic approach to life.
This would be the first time I’ve ever entered a club, only for them to turn on the lights and music just for us. Yep, we were the main event. We sit at a table and the bar is opened for us. We buy a few beers and begin to settle into the unusual situation. At this point, I’m trying to convince the group we should get out of here. Yes, we’re four strapping young lads but, should ten bigger and possibly armed guys enter the club demanding our possessions or anal virginity, were pretty screwed. Yet again I’m outvoted, and I wasn’t willing to leave Alex behind. He did say he would leave with me should I be extremely worried, but somehow I wasn’t at that point.
Two older women join our table and begin talking to us; it’s obvious they have been called here. I’m not in a mood to concentrate enough on trying to talk Spanish so I continue chatting to the guys.
Despite my concerns, I was wrong. Nobody was out to get us here. We spend a few hours chatting and drinking until around 5am. Alex and I ask for a taxi but the others want to stay.
As were leaving, though, things kick off. One of the women stands and is shouting as if she’s lost something. Confused, we stick around long enough to make sure nothing happens to Jus and Josh, and take our taxi. They get back to the hostel at around 7am unharmed and say they innocently had a good time.
I wanted to show Alex a balanced view of the backpacker lifestyle. There’s a lot more to this than partying. Partying actually makes up only a small proportion, but of course that is subjective. The next day Ceci, Alex and I head to a place called Latacunga to embark on a multi-day hike called the Quilotoa loop. The idea being you start at a small village and each day, walk through the countryside to the next, sleeping at different hostels each night. At the end of the trek is a beautiful lagoon.
The route we chose was: Latacunga > Isinlivi > Chugchilán > Quilotoa > Latacunga.
Ceci, Alex and I had become pretty close the more time we spent together. We are all rather similar in that we are chilled out, spontaneous and adventurous. We all found each other’s company very entertaining so we decided to continue doing things as a three.
Our group was about to get a little larger. As we’re planning to leave the hostel for our hike, another guest, Steve, self-confirms he will tag along, without asking if we are looking for another traveller. Between the three of us, we’re torn between just going with it, or telling him we would prefer to go alone. We decide it would be too hurtful to tell him he can’t come with us, as we would all feel a little hurt if we were in his shoes. The four of us head to Latacunga and book a hostel. Ceci and I decide to play a joke on Alex. Alex was least bought into the idea of us inviting Steve along. So, we decide to book them both in a private room just for giggles. This ends up with Ceci and I in stitches on the floor once Alex finds out and throws a mini tantrum.
That evening, Steve goes for a walk around Latacunga to check out the churches. Ceci, Alex and I buy some street food and wine, and sit in the plaza chatting for hours on end.
When Steve checks into the room and realises he’s sleeping with Alex, he makes a legendary comment “Alex, I’m confused, I thought I would be staying with Ceci in a private room, not with you”.
How to accidentally lose a backpacker
The following morning, we get up early in order to catch our bus to the start of the trek. In a genuine miscommunication, Steve had got up early to explore the town a little more and thought we were meeting back at the hostel at 10, when in fact the bus was leaving at 10. None of us had his mobile number or an internet connection to contact him through Facebook. In a rush, we check out and leave for the bus, feeling totally guilty.
We bump into Manne and Lisa on the bus and trek with them on the way to Chugchilan. Other than being charged at by a cow, it was a great trek.
That evening we arrive at a luxurious hostel with a spa and enjoy a three course meal with the other guests. The hostel was much nicer than any other I stayed in for a long time – a nice treat.
The next day we decide to wake a little later than the rest of the group and trek just the three of us. We have the best time. Taking it easy, taking silly pictures, being a little mischievous. The following tell a much better story than I can put into words.
On the last stretch, a few kilometres of road, its clouding over and starting to rain. I try to hitch-hike but every car just drives on, I ask Ceci to try – jackpot. We jump on the back of the truck and video the experience:
After a long day of hiking and fun, we’re not in the mood for socialising. We raid the hot chocolate machine and mix in some rum; sitting in a chill out lounge just chatting whilst everyone else is in the restaurant for dinner. Alex tries chatting up a German girl but she just can’t understand his strong Sheffield accent and she asks me to translate, hilarious.
Due to time restraints, the next morning we decide to get a bus to the Quilotoa lagoon itself. We arrive at the lagoon when it opens at 7am. Freezing cold, but truly stunning. But first, Alex decides to buy an “alpaca” fleece.
How to lose your brother in the middle of nowhere
The bus back to Latacunga is at 10am, where we left Steve and most of our baggage. It’s a long walk down to the lagoon and a longer walk back. I walk back up to the town a little faster than Ceci and Alex to ensure the bus doesn’t leave without us. Somehow, during this time, I manage to lose them completely. At the top I buy ice creams for us all which takes longer than it should. I start walking toward the bus stop when a taxi driver stops by and offers to take me. Assuming Alex and Ceci will be there already, I jump in.
I realise there has been a miscommunication, the driver was taking me to a nearby town with a small bus station. I see at this point that I won’t be catching the same bus from the lagoon itself. There is no reception out here so I jump on the next bus to Latacunga and hope that Ceci and Alex didn’t wait for me. I’m thankful that Ceci is with us for the hike, as I’m not sure what Alex would have done on his own.
Hours later, we meet in Latacunga to pick up our stuff. Steve, the sweetheart, has left a note at reception along with some bits we left in the room. What a guy.
We say our goodbyes as Ceci is heading to Cotopaxi mountain and Alex and I are going toward the adventure town of Banos. More chaos awaits.
AshWoodhall.blog 