2 August
Two hours to Atlanta, then four and a half to Quito, both legs on Delta, with frequent flier miles. Should have been a snap, right? Well, flying into Atlanta on a summer afternoon can be risky because of the almost-quotidian storms that mess air traffic before dinner this time of year. And it happened this day, diverting my flight to Augusta, Georgia, for half-an-hour. But even if my subsequent, South American connection hadn't been delayed by an hour, I'd still have made it easily because of the almost-three-hour layover built into the schedule. As it was, I got to Quito about forty-five minutes later than I had expected, almost midnight. No issue at all getting a safe taxi into the city and to my hotel, a J.W. Marriott, for the reasonable price of $35.
3 August
Not enough sleep this past night, so, being tired, I took it slow today, walking maybe a two-kilometer radius around the hotel, in a neighborhood called Mariscal Sucre. Traffic was surprisingly light. I stopped in the first and second of five bookstores this week looking for contemporary Ecuadorian fiction translated into English but had no luck finding any, as I wouldn't the rest of the trip. I had read two twentieth-century local novels preparing for this trip back home, but those are the only ones that I think exist in English. Oh well.
The city was Latin, for sure, reminding me of parts of Mexico and Guatemala. One thing that did distract from what otherwise might be local charm was the relentless graffiti covering parts of almost every vertical surface.
A few fast facts about the country and the city:
Two hours to Atlanta, then four and a half to Quito, both legs on Delta, with frequent flier miles. Should have been a snap, right? Well, flying into Atlanta on a summer afternoon can be risky because of the almost-quotidian storms that mess air traffic before dinner this time of year. And it happened this day, diverting my flight to Augusta, Georgia, for half-an-hour. But even if my subsequent, South American connection hadn't been delayed by an hour, I'd still have made it easily because of the almost-three-hour layover built into the schedule. As it was, I got to Quito about forty-five minutes later than I had expected, almost midnight. No issue at all getting a safe taxi into the city and to my hotel, a J.W. Marriott, for the reasonable price of $35.
3 August
Not enough sleep this past night, so, being tired, I took it slow today, walking maybe a two-kilometer radius around the hotel, in a neighborhood called Mariscal Sucre. Traffic was surprisingly light. I stopped in the first and second of five bookstores this week looking for contemporary Ecuadorian fiction translated into English but had no luck finding any, as I wouldn't the rest of the trip. I had read two twentieth-century local novels preparing for this trip back home, but those are the only ones that I think exist in English. Oh well.
The city was Latin, for sure, reminding me of parts of Mexico and Guatemala. One thing that did distract from what otherwise might be local charm was the relentless graffiti covering parts of almost every vertical surface.
A few fast facts about the country and the city:
- The country is "divided" into four regions: the coastal area, which is where the devastating earthquake struck this past spring; the highlands, which is where Quito is located; the Amazon; and the Galapagos...more about this last one in a minute
- The population of Ecuador is about sixteen million, making it half the size of next door neighbor Peru. Ninety-five percent of the population is Catholic, whether practicing or not.
- Quito is in the Pichincha province, one of twenty-four provinces in the country.
- Provinces are divided into cantons, which, in turn, are subdivided into parishes.
- The main industries of the country are oil, bananas, cocoa, tourism, and roses.
- The population of Quito, the capital city, depending on which source you believe, is about 1.6 million.
- Quito is the second highest capital city in the world, with La Paz, Bolivia, being on top.
- Though several cities lie on the equator, none is higher than Quito.
- A team of local, Spanish, and French scientists gave birth in Ecuador to the metric system.
J.W. Marriott
4 August, morning
This morning I rode the Telefériqo cable car up to an area call Cruz Loma, 4050 meters above sea level, and enjoyed a stunning panoramic view of the city and surroundings. The 2.2-kilometer ascent took about fifteen minutes. Though I could tell I was at an elevation atypical for me I did not suffer from altitude sickness. The seven photographs below are from the summit.
This morning I rode the Telefériqo cable car up to an area call Cruz Loma, 4050 meters above sea level, and enjoyed a stunning panoramic view of the city and surroundings. The 2.2-kilometer ascent took about fifteen minutes. Though I could tell I was at an elevation atypical for me I did not suffer from altitude sickness. The seven photographs below are from the summit.
4 August, afternoon
In the afternoon I had a private tour of Old Town, crowded even though it was Thursday, starting at Independence Square. The soft-spoken guide was knowledgeable about Quiteño, Ecuadorian, and South American history, and I tried to absorb as much of it as I could during the two and a half hours we spent together. The highlight of the afternoon and the second highlight of the trip was spending time inside La Compañia Church, where I couldn't take pictures, so you'll have to believe me when I say that after St. Peter's in Rome it's the most beautiful anything I've seen created by humans.
In the afternoon I had a private tour of Old Town, crowded even though it was Thursday, starting at Independence Square. The soft-spoken guide was knowledgeable about Quiteño, Ecuadorian, and South American history, and I tried to absorb as much of it as I could during the two and a half hours we spent together. The highlight of the afternoon and the second highlight of the trip was spending time inside La Compañia Church, where I couldn't take pictures, so you'll have to believe me when I say that after St. Peter's in Rome it's the most beautiful anything I've seen created by humans.
5 August, morning to early afternoon
I started tracking Quito's weather in June, a little worried because during an El Niño year it rains here more than usual. Weather.com was my main site but I checked others, also, and they were all making the same short- and long-term forecasts: cool and wet. Even until the day before I left the predictions were discouraging. So I brought two sweatshirts, a sweater, a raincoat, and overshoes, in addition to dry weather clothes. Well, happily, the prognosticators were wrong: I enjoyed glorious weather every day of the trip, as you can see from the previous and following photos.
On this Friday an attractive young guide named Annalia drove me ninety minutes to Cotopaxi, one of the natural wonders near Quito and part of the Avenue of Volcanoes. In one of the indigenous languages Cotopaxi means neck of the moon. At 5897 meters it is the second highest summit in Ecuador and one of the world's highest volcanoes. It also has one of the few equatorial glaciers anywhere on Earth. And it's active, most recently in January 2016. When it spews, it blows steam, ash, and mud, but that's not to say it one day won't erupt with lava. Geologists caution that 300,000 people in the highlands are at risk if Cotopaxi erupts violently.
Visitors to Cotopaxi are more often than not disappointed with the sojourn because clouds surrounding and covering the volcano make seeing it clearly impossible. According to Annalia we had a rare day, one that happens fewer than a dozen times a year. The following pictures show Cotopaxi in a way that makes postcards and guidebooks jealous. No Photoshop here, Reader, this is what it looked like today.
I started tracking Quito's weather in June, a little worried because during an El Niño year it rains here more than usual. Weather.com was my main site but I checked others, also, and they were all making the same short- and long-term forecasts: cool and wet. Even until the day before I left the predictions were discouraging. So I brought two sweatshirts, a sweater, a raincoat, and overshoes, in addition to dry weather clothes. Well, happily, the prognosticators were wrong: I enjoyed glorious weather every day of the trip, as you can see from the previous and following photos.
On this Friday an attractive young guide named Annalia drove me ninety minutes to Cotopaxi, one of the natural wonders near Quito and part of the Avenue of Volcanoes. In one of the indigenous languages Cotopaxi means neck of the moon. At 5897 meters it is the second highest summit in Ecuador and one of the world's highest volcanoes. It also has one of the few equatorial glaciers anywhere on Earth. And it's active, most recently in January 2016. When it spews, it blows steam, ash, and mud, but that's not to say it one day won't erupt with lava. Geologists caution that 300,000 people in the highlands are at risk if Cotopaxi erupts violently.
Visitors to Cotopaxi are more often than not disappointed with the sojourn because clouds surrounding and covering the volcano make seeing it clearly impossible. According to Annalia we had a rare day, one that happens fewer than a dozen times a year. The following pictures show Cotopaxi in a way that makes postcards and guidebooks jealous. No Photoshop here, Reader, this is what it looked like today.
5 August, mid- to late afternoon
This afternoon I joined a multi-person tour to the shamelessly touristic but entertaining Middle of the World, about forty-five minutes from the Marriott, located at 0 degrees latitude, allowing the young-at-heart to stand in the Northern and Southern Hemispheres at the same time. Within the "compound," where I took most of the following pictures, is the Museo Solar Into Ñan, which had "scientific" demonstrations particularly suited for this location. Some were cheesy, some not-quite-cheesy. One creepy ethnographic display included a real shrunken head, 150 years old. It's not easy to separate fact from fiction on this topic, but our guide said that individuals were not killed for the express purpose of shrinking their heads and that it was done to friends as well as to enemies.
A couple of tidbits from the Middle:
This afternoon I joined a multi-person tour to the shamelessly touristic but entertaining Middle of the World, about forty-five minutes from the Marriott, located at 0 degrees latitude, allowing the young-at-heart to stand in the Northern and Southern Hemispheres at the same time. Within the "compound," where I took most of the following pictures, is the Museo Solar Into Ñan, which had "scientific" demonstrations particularly suited for this location. Some were cheesy, some not-quite-cheesy. One creepy ethnographic display included a real shrunken head, 150 years old. It's not easy to separate fact from fiction on this topic, but our guide said that individuals were not killed for the express purpose of shrinking their heads and that it was done to friends as well as to enemies.
A couple of tidbits from the Middle:
- Standing on the equator, you are rotating with the earth at 1667 km/h, faster than anywhere else on the planet
- Because the earth isn't a sphere but is flattened at the poles and bulging slightly in the middle, you weigh 1 kg less on the equator
- During the spring and autumn equinoxes, the sun is directly overhead of the equator and no objects cast a shadow
- In 1740 the French Geodesic Mission calculated 0 degrees latitude without the help of Google or GPS and were off by a mere 240 meters.
Me in the Northern and Southern Hemispheres
6 August
On the weekends in nearby Ejido Park local painters display and try to sell their work. I walked to there this morning to see what they had to offer. Although all the artists had at least a hundred times more talent than I do, most of the paintings weren't that appealing, even though the price was more than right on all of them. A couple of them gave me pause and I considered seriously making a purchase but then changed my mind—a good decision, I think.
In the evening I went back to Old Town to see the area after dark. I'm happy I re-visited but not really being that kind of night person after two hours I'd had enough. But I did enjoy seeing El Panecillo Hill, three thousand meters above sea level, with its thirty-meter high "Virgin of Quito," the largest aluminum statue in the world. It's relatively young, being inaugurated in March 1975.
On the weekends in nearby Ejido Park local painters display and try to sell their work. I walked to there this morning to see what they had to offer. Although all the artists had at least a hundred times more talent than I do, most of the paintings weren't that appealing, even though the price was more than right on all of them. A couple of them gave me pause and I considered seriously making a purchase but then changed my mind—a good decision, I think.
In the evening I went back to Old Town to see the area after dark. I'm happy I re-visited but not really being that kind of night person after two hours I'd had enough. But I did enjoy seeing El Panecillo Hill, three thousand meters above sea level, with its thirty-meter high "Virgin of Quito," the largest aluminum statue in the world. It's relatively young, being inaugurated in March 1975.
Iglesia de Santa Teresita (and check out that blue sky)
Iglesia de Santa Teresita
The Virgin of Quito
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The Virgin of Quito
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7 August
Oswaldo Guayasamin was born poor in 1919, in Quito, to an indigenous father and a mestiza (mixed blood) mother who ultimately produced ten children. He studied painting, sculpture, and architecture in the city. He developed into what those in-the-know have said is the greatest Latin American artist of the twentieth-century. I suspect had I known about Guayasamin when I was younger I might have dismissed him and his work because politically and socially its roots are buried in the far Left. But having just heard of him when I started preparing for this trip earlier this summer, realizing how the world has changed in the past few decades, seeing how he lived in later life (in a gorgeous mansion), and being overwhelmed by the aching beauty of most of his paintings, I have to say I'm now a substantial admirer of Mr. Guayasamin's artistry, and that this day, when I visited his last work, Chapel of Man, which he did not finish before dying in 1999, was not only the highlight of the trip but almost certainly will be the highlight of my 2016. (The Chapel of Man is now, for all practical purposes, a museum.)
Guayasamin's murals are, without exaggeration, all over the world, though their being his work is largely unknown, I suspect, except by true art aficionados. And reprints and lithographs of his paintings are all over Quito. Rightfully so, as far as I'm concerned. I'm not going to string a bunch of meaningless, cliched adjectives together now to describe his paintings. Please search online to get some feel for what they are, or, best yet, make the trip to the Bellavista neighborhood in Quito, and, overlooking the city, spend a couple of hours at both the Capilla del Hombre and at his mansion, bracing yourself—physically, emotionally, and intellectually—for what is, in my opinion, one of the best-kept secrets on earth.
Oswaldo Guayasamin was born poor in 1919, in Quito, to an indigenous father and a mestiza (mixed blood) mother who ultimately produced ten children. He studied painting, sculpture, and architecture in the city. He developed into what those in-the-know have said is the greatest Latin American artist of the twentieth-century. I suspect had I known about Guayasamin when I was younger I might have dismissed him and his work because politically and socially its roots are buried in the far Left. But having just heard of him when I started preparing for this trip earlier this summer, realizing how the world has changed in the past few decades, seeing how he lived in later life (in a gorgeous mansion), and being overwhelmed by the aching beauty of most of his paintings, I have to say I'm now a substantial admirer of Mr. Guayasamin's artistry, and that this day, when I visited his last work, Chapel of Man, which he did not finish before dying in 1999, was not only the highlight of the trip but almost certainly will be the highlight of my 2016. (The Chapel of Man is now, for all practical purposes, a museum.)
Guayasamin's murals are, without exaggeration, all over the world, though their being his work is largely unknown, I suspect, except by true art aficionados. And reprints and lithographs of his paintings are all over Quito. Rightfully so, as far as I'm concerned. I'm not going to string a bunch of meaningless, cliched adjectives together now to describe his paintings. Please search online to get some feel for what they are, or, best yet, make the trip to the Bellavista neighborhood in Quito, and, overlooking the city, spend a couple of hours at both the Capilla del Hombre and at his mansion, bracing yourself—physically, emotionally, and intellectually—for what is, in my opinion, one of the best-kept secrets on earth.
Me in Guayasamin's studio, in front of a painting of the late, great flamenco and jazz guitarist Paco de Lucia, which Guayasamin painted in twenty-five minutes.
8 August
Even more walking today. I hiked to the parent store of MarsuArte, which has a small gallery at the Marriott, to see the rest of their collection of paintings and lithographs. The shop was on Avenida 6 de Diciembre, named for the date in 1534 when settlers relocated Quito to it current site and "refounded" it. The lengthy stroll showed me an especially nice part of the city. At the gallery I did, indeed, buy a painting, one that's almost funny, a photograph of which is at the bottom of this page.
Speaking of exercise, I got a lot of it this trip, probably more than I otherwise would have at home. In addition to power-walking the metro area I took advantage of the evening classes offered in the hotel's fitness center. All told, I participated in two spin classes and two Pilates classes, both rigorous and taught by fit Ecuadorian women, Mayda and Mirabella. Aye carumba...hard to focus.
Anyway I have to relate to you what happened in the first spin class because it was so funny, almost surreal. I was the only student in the class, and about halfway through the one-hour session Mayda got off her stationary bike and started talking to me as I pedaled according to her last instruction. She didn't speak English but I know enough Spanish to have understood about a third of the words she spoke, from which I was able to follow all she was saying. First Mayda told me about her recent hiking experiences and then about the races she's run in. (I'm still pedaling with a lot of resistance on that front wheel.) She then starts telling me about her dog and a book a friend of hers had written about her dog. Now I do love canines and Mayda was easy on the eyes so I listened with great care to her story as I kept pedaling, while she seemed to forget that I was doing so. She excused herself for a moment and came back with her mobile phone--pedal, pedal, pedal--and showed me picture after picture of her dog, oblivious to the sweat pouring off me as I panted to keep my breath. Then she backtracked and showed me picture after picture of her hiking and running--pedal, pedal, pedal. I speak not in hyperbole when I say this continued for twenty-five minutes, until just before class ended, when she finally stopped, had me stop pedaling and get off the bike. We concluded with cool-down stretches, an embrace, and an innocent (darn!) kiss on the cheek. I suppose I could have stopped pedaling earlier, but that would have broken the continuity of the unusually delightful experience and would have decreased the calories I burned.
I love Ecuador.
Tired and sore, I went to bed at about nine o'clock, something not feeling quite right inside me. We'll see how the night goes. A little before midnight, about 11:30, my bed started shaking, then bouncing, almost like in The Exorcist. A couple of items fell off the vanity in the bathroom. Then the fire alarm sounded. Earthquake. Knowing not to use the elevator, I walked down ten flights of stairs and joined the other guests outside in front of the Marriott, waiting for instructions. The night manager gave everyone updates, which were sparse because at the time nobody had much information. Finally he said the "tremblor" was centered about seven kilometers from hotel and measured 4.6 on the Richter scale. Shortly after that, with no other tectonic activity and with the hotel secured, the guests—surprisingly few—went back to their rooms. But now I could tell my GI tract was having some rumblings of its own.
Even more walking today. I hiked to the parent store of MarsuArte, which has a small gallery at the Marriott, to see the rest of their collection of paintings and lithographs. The shop was on Avenida 6 de Diciembre, named for the date in 1534 when settlers relocated Quito to it current site and "refounded" it. The lengthy stroll showed me an especially nice part of the city. At the gallery I did, indeed, buy a painting, one that's almost funny, a photograph of which is at the bottom of this page.
Speaking of exercise, I got a lot of it this trip, probably more than I otherwise would have at home. In addition to power-walking the metro area I took advantage of the evening classes offered in the hotel's fitness center. All told, I participated in two spin classes and two Pilates classes, both rigorous and taught by fit Ecuadorian women, Mayda and Mirabella. Aye carumba...hard to focus.
Anyway I have to relate to you what happened in the first spin class because it was so funny, almost surreal. I was the only student in the class, and about halfway through the one-hour session Mayda got off her stationary bike and started talking to me as I pedaled according to her last instruction. She didn't speak English but I know enough Spanish to have understood about a third of the words she spoke, from which I was able to follow all she was saying. First Mayda told me about her recent hiking experiences and then about the races she's run in. (I'm still pedaling with a lot of resistance on that front wheel.) She then starts telling me about her dog and a book a friend of hers had written about her dog. Now I do love canines and Mayda was easy on the eyes so I listened with great care to her story as I kept pedaling, while she seemed to forget that I was doing so. She excused herself for a moment and came back with her mobile phone--pedal, pedal, pedal--and showed me picture after picture of her dog, oblivious to the sweat pouring off me as I panted to keep my breath. Then she backtracked and showed me picture after picture of her hiking and running--pedal, pedal, pedal. I speak not in hyperbole when I say this continued for twenty-five minutes, until just before class ended, when she finally stopped, had me stop pedaling and get off the bike. We concluded with cool-down stretches, an embrace, and an innocent (darn!) kiss on the cheek. I suppose I could have stopped pedaling earlier, but that would have broken the continuity of the unusually delightful experience and would have decreased the calories I burned.
I love Ecuador.
Tired and sore, I went to bed at about nine o'clock, something not feeling quite right inside me. We'll see how the night goes. A little before midnight, about 11:30, my bed started shaking, then bouncing, almost like in The Exorcist. A couple of items fell off the vanity in the bathroom. Then the fire alarm sounded. Earthquake. Knowing not to use the elevator, I walked down ten flights of stairs and joined the other guests outside in front of the Marriott, waiting for instructions. The night manager gave everyone updates, which were sparse because at the time nobody had much information. Finally he said the "tremblor" was centered about seven kilometers from hotel and measured 4.6 on the Richter scale. Shortly after that, with no other tectonic activity and with the hotel secured, the guests—surprisingly few—went back to their rooms. But now I could tell my GI tract was having some rumblings of its own.
Sights while strolling along Avenida 6 de Diciembre
Sights while strolling along Avenida 6 de Diciembre
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Sights while strolling along Avenida 6 de Diecimbre
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9 August
Last day of another great vacation with nothing really planned except maybe going back to the Gogh Galleria and trying to talk the stubborn proprietor down from her solid $4000 asking-price for a painting I loved by a Chilean artist. So I guess if I had to have one of the two symptoms of a stomach bug or food poisoning, then this was the best day. Because of my stomach, nothing, then, happened this Tuesday except laying around my room reading, sleeping, and going to the bathroom. I took Pepto-Bismol as directed on the box so I'd be able to leave for the airport at 18:00 for my flight home tonight—and that did work. The lingering after-effects of the Delta's computer glitch over the weekend caused my flight to be delayed an hour and forty-five minutes, but, having been upgraded to first-class, as I was on the flight here, I was able to wait in the executive lounge. That helped with some of the discomfort. Again, a generous connecting time in Atlanta meant I would not miss the Minneapolis leg of the return trip.
This was, indeed, a wonderful holiday, enough to inspire me to return to Latin America next year, probably to Nicaragua. The one activity I didn't get to, although I thought about it several times, was seeing a movie, as I try to visit a cinema at least once on a vacation in a country new to me. But the roster of films playing in Quito, and, frankly, in most cities in the world, was dull. To wit,
Acarciando a mi Niño (Spanish) Julietta (Spanish)
Entre Sombras (Spanish) Legend of Tarzan
Fathers and Daughters Now You See Me 2
Finding Dory The Purge: Election Year
Ghostbusters The Secret Life of Pets
Ice Age: Collision Course Suicide Squad
Jason Bourne
If my Spanish were better, then I'd happily have gone to see one of the films from Spain, but that's the way that goes, no movie—hardly the end of the world.
Below are pictures of the mementos I bought around town. They're unique, I think, and will bring back wonderful memories of these eight days I spent straddling the equator.
Last day of another great vacation with nothing really planned except maybe going back to the Gogh Galleria and trying to talk the stubborn proprietor down from her solid $4000 asking-price for a painting I loved by a Chilean artist. So I guess if I had to have one of the two symptoms of a stomach bug or food poisoning, then this was the best day. Because of my stomach, nothing, then, happened this Tuesday except laying around my room reading, sleeping, and going to the bathroom. I took Pepto-Bismol as directed on the box so I'd be able to leave for the airport at 18:00 for my flight home tonight—and that did work. The lingering after-effects of the Delta's computer glitch over the weekend caused my flight to be delayed an hour and forty-five minutes, but, having been upgraded to first-class, as I was on the flight here, I was able to wait in the executive lounge. That helped with some of the discomfort. Again, a generous connecting time in Atlanta meant I would not miss the Minneapolis leg of the return trip.
This was, indeed, a wonderful holiday, enough to inspire me to return to Latin America next year, probably to Nicaragua. The one activity I didn't get to, although I thought about it several times, was seeing a movie, as I try to visit a cinema at least once on a vacation in a country new to me. But the roster of films playing in Quito, and, frankly, in most cities in the world, was dull. To wit,
Acarciando a mi Niño (Spanish) Julietta (Spanish)
Entre Sombras (Spanish) Legend of Tarzan
Fathers and Daughters Now You See Me 2
Finding Dory The Purge: Election Year
Ghostbusters The Secret Life of Pets
Ice Age: Collision Course Suicide Squad
Jason Bourne
If my Spanish were better, then I'd happily have gone to see one of the films from Spain, but that's the way that goes, no movie—hardly the end of the world.
Below are pictures of the mementos I bought around town. They're unique, I think, and will bring back wonderful memories of these eight days I spent straddling the equator.
Quito keepsake
Quito keepsake
Quito keepsake
Quito keepsake