We had a lazy couple of days in Quito. Moved to another hostel, Casa Helbling – actually our second choice as the first ran out of space, but thank god for that, because it’s lovely and bright, albeit with a Germanic penchant for wood furniture.
Later that day we discovered (thanks to Rich putting on his posh voice and enquiring calmly about its opening hours), the top floor bar of the five-star Hotel Quito, which had comfortable sofas, amazing views over Quito, and great coffee (something of a trend here, I’m discovering).
A wonderful way to spend an afternoon, though sadly probably not in keeping with this whole backpacking idea. Have we already violated some backpacker code?
If so, I think we made up for it yesterday, when we braved Ecuadorian buses for the first time. Five of them, but by that point, who was counting?
All we did was try to get to the Mitad del Mundo, the equator, and surely such a gimmicky tourist trap that I’m amazed it proved so hard to get to. But thanks to a shocking amount of misinformation, it was a nightmarish morning.
Shrieking excitedly, we finally spotted the right bus more by chance than anything else. And then found ourselves hurtling down the side of a mountain, sitting on a bit of mattress right beside a driver who appeared to have chewed a few too many coca leaves.
After which the Mitad del Mundo was refreshingly predictable. Huge stone monument, long orange line, and a frightening number of people.
For trivia buffs, the equatorial line was first located there (and named; the resemblance between ‘Ecuador’ and ‘equator’ isn’t a coincidence, as I felt a bit stupid to discover) by Charles-Marie de la Condamine in 1736. So naturally we took the obligatory photos, and hopped between hemispheres a few times until it wore thin.
And then proceeded to learn that the equator was actually elsewhere: next door, to be precise, in an eccentric outdoor museum run by a seemingly rag-tag bunch of indigenous campaigners, who made sure we understood the true arrogance of the French and the far superior knowledge of the indigenous people who could have told us the location of the zero latitude line hundreds of years ago, if only anyone had thought to ask.
And there’s no arguing with it – we were shown the old water-down-a-drain-hole trick, and it’s true, it really does run straight down the hole when it’s directly over the equator.
Seriously, don’t miss the Intiñan Solar Museum, right next door to the big phallic monument and far more interesting.
Then in our continuing resolve to be more adventurous, we went on to a large green crater called Pululahua, which was picturesque, but to my chagrin located at the end of a long bus-free road.
Anyway, more obligatory tourist photos, lunch by the side of the road, and back to Quito. Followed by another hike to the hostel after being ditched in the middle of the city by another thoroughly unimpressive bus. Am sorely reminded how quickly I need to shape up if I intend to be taught the true meaning of a hike.
Thankfully Rich has been talked into taking it easy today and I’m looking forward to bookshops and cafés and the much more relaxing planning part of travelling… we’ll be moving on from Quito before the end of the week, probably seeking out a jungle retreat somewhere, then starting to look toward the Peruvian border.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. 🙂
