Ecuador

‘Paradise’  is perhaps the most over used word in South America. The word seems to be optimistically slapped on all manner of things and places by over enthusiastic tourist agencies. As previously documented our first encounter with the word was at Tayrona in Colombia, though in that case paradise was somewhat tainted by the myriad variety of insects trying to feast on our flesh. The second incongruous encounter occurred in the small village of Papallacta, our next stop from Quito, and a sign welcoming us to its thermal baths which we had been informed were the best in Ecuador.

I’ve been lucky enough to visit some pretty awesome ‘bath-type’ places where the moniker paradise could arguably be applied, most spectacularly in Pamukkale, Turkey. With such visions in mind my expectations for Papallacta were, consequently, set unreasonably high and initially I found the bath complex somewhat underwhelming with its cracking concrete pathways and general dilapidation reminiscent more of a soviet training camp than a land of milk and honey. The waters themselves were, however, pretty pleasant and we spent a relaxing couple of hours splashing about getting wrinkly amongst the multitudes of visiting Ecuadoria, most of whom were wearing what can only be politely described as ‘unflattering’ swim ware.

From Pappalacta we continued South to the town of Tena, a place with little to recommend it apart from the fact it offers some of the best white water rafting opportunities in South America. Arriving fairly late on in the evening we planned on staying only for one night but unfortunately found that rafting trips were unavailable for thw foloowing day and we were instead forced to organise a trip for the day after. Annoyingly this left us with an empty day in a town with seemingly nothing in it, thankfully our English rafting organiser was sensitive to our plight and gave us a few tips so we could fill the empty hours. The first recommended place was sold to us as a monkey sanctuary, a prospect which did not exactly fill Paul with expectant joy seeing he hates monkeys following the theft of his camera by one in the jungle.  Despite his protestations my will prevailed and off we traipsed. In actuality the sanctuary was nothing of the sort, with the place consisting of a deserted hotel with 4 vicious monkeys prowling around, all of whom seemed intent on jumping and biting us. Perhaps this place was once a peaceful haven of monkeys but if it was these 4 vicious bastards had almost certainly driven them any nice ones off.

Trying to avoid rabies/rage virus was not much fun so we quickly ran off deeper into the jungle surrounding the hotel. After a bit of aimless wondering we chanced upon a couple of crumbling bridges with children spear fishing underneath, a rather more tranquil scene hat banished the images of monkey evildoers from our mind.

Jungle bridge complete with children

Monkeys drawing blood

Our second tip was for a cave a couple of miles up the road, the entrance to which came replete with another sign stating ´welcome to paradise.´ My conception of a cave is just a big hole you go in for a few minutes to check out a few ‘mites and ‘tites in before leaving. Thus the revelation that we would need a guide to examine a th site came as somewhat of a surprise. This surprise was ratcheted up a couple more notches when the first thing our new guide told us to do was take off our clothes and hand over all the contents of our pockets. Thankfully this was not, as we feared, a pervert mugging but instead was due to the fact he expected us to descend into the darkness in just swimming shorts and shoes. Not being prepared for this we had to explain we only had shorts on, which he met with a shrug of his shoulders and the passing over to us of us headlamps.

Descending into darkness for the next hour or so we clamoured around underground with our headlights providing just about enough light so we didn’t crack our heads and die. The reason we had to get mostly naked was also made clear when it turned out that the walls were made out of brown substance which quickly made my white shorts look like I´d shat all over thme. This and the fact we had to actively swim across a pool to get out made us look like total states when we emerged blinking into the light again. Compounding things we also had a pretty embarrassing bus ride back to Tena, in our wet and dirty states the driver didn’t allow to sit down and so we spent the 40 minute ride being stared upon by dozens of quizzical looking Ecuadorians. Arriving back in Tena we found a televised volleyball game in mid flow on the main square and sat down to watch for a couple of hours, tired but pretty happy with the days events.

Ecuadorian underground scene

The following day we woke up bright and early for white water rafting to be told by our guide that 5 people out of our group of 8 had to pull out due to contracting food poisoning. Despite this, our rafting group of Paul, me and a tiny swiss girl went ahead and we had a lot of fun going down class IV rapids. Our joker guides were also pretty cool, repeatedly pushing us into the water and trying to topple our raft. Although rafting itself was a good adrenaline rush the periods of quiet where we floated along silently observing jungle sights was in many ways just as enjoyable. Birds, butterflies, monkeys and, most unnervingly, giant spiders were all out abundance, flitting around attractively amongst beautiful waterfalls and dramatic cliff faces.

Face melting solos

Returning from rafting exhausted we immediately jumped on a bus bound for Banos, a place described in Paul´s Lonely Planet as ´perhaps the most perfect destination in Ecuador.´ Once again the reality did not quite living up to the billing with Banos being a pleasant town unapologetically geared towards the tourist crowd, with tour operators vying with each other for our dollar dollar dollar. Unfortunately for them we had no money to spend, with our plan to do bridge jumping sadly curtailed when we discovered that it cost the frankly extortionate sum of $25. Instead of leaping off things we made a wise decision in taking a trek around the surrounding hills before deciding to blow our daily budgets on some extremely tasty foods, Banos´s tourists having ensured that it is one of the few places in Ecuador where food transcends the merely bland.

Equestrian masters in Banos

Leaving Banos we continued South to Riobamba with hopes of catching a train (actually a bus retrofitted to fit rails) which descends the mountain el Nariz del Diablo (Devil´s Nose). This journey is famous in Ecuador as it involves a zigzagging descent to the bottom of the mountain via multiple track changes. Adding to this thrill we were also hoping to ride on the top of the carriage, so providing us both with spectacular views and a sketchy travel experience.

Arriving at Riobamba we were annoyed to find that the train no longer went from the city and we were instead informed we’d have to travel 2 hours further South to the town of Alausi to buy tickets. We were also told that rides on top of the train had been cancelled, probably related to the fact that two Japanese tourists had tragically died whilst riding the train in 2007. Grumbling away we travelled to Alausi anyway, arriving early evening and encountering a strange place, with the town dominated by mist and a huge statue of St Peter, strategically placed to look on the town as sternly as possible. Wondering up to Pete we were somewhat disconcerted to find huge numbers of gigantic moths and beatles skittering around the area, seemingly lured inexorably towards the giant halogen lights that gave him the P-dogg his religious glow. After I ran away from a giant moth (seriously, it was more like a vampire bat) we decided to eat some chinese food, I say Chinese food, what I actually mean is brown slop on top of overcooked noodles. This was Paul’s third experience of Chinese food in South America and this 9/11 of a meal was apparently par for the course. Moral: never eat Chinese food in South America.

The next morning we rose at ridiculous a clock in order to get a ticket for the day’s journey. Arising so early hour turned out to be a somewhat needless move, as the queues we were told to expect resolutely failed to manifest themselves. Easily procuring a ticket we chugged off at 10 o’clock and quickly found ourselves immersed in the spectacular mountain scenery which Ecuador seems excel at. Despite being attractive the journey was not quite as dangerous as we’d sort of hoped, with our retrofitted bus feeling disappointingly secure, despite all the tourists being asked a couple of times to get off in case it derailed. In partial recompense to this lack of excitement the historical narrative of the Ecuadorian railroads was pretty interesting, with us learning that the ‘devil`s nose’  being so titled due to the fact that hundreds of slaves and workers died in the railroad’s construction.

Chillin on the train track

Leaving Alausi we headed for our final destination in Ecuador, Cuenca. Once again our guidebook waxed lyrical about this city but thankfully this time the city deserved such plaudits in being an extremely agreeable and attractive colonial city, blessed with great restaurants, hostels and nightlife. It was also blessed with plenty of water balloon wielding mischief makers who prowled the balconies and streets due to the fact that carnival was in town. Carnival seemingly being an excuse for people to get other people as wet or dirty as possible and have the odd parade. Though the festivities are mainly reserved for the youth anyone can, and does, get involved, with us memorably encountering a spritely 70 odd year old man chasing after kids spraying their faces with foam (in a non paedophilic manner).

Cuenca Cathedral

Later on in the nighttime we also bumped into a couple of Americans who we’d met on the previous days train journey who were getting into the spirit by throwing water balloons indiscriminately at as many passing locals as possible. We hung around with these guys for the night getting into one hairy situation when one of them threw a water balloon into a fast moving car leading the driver to get out and berate us, eventually getting so worked up he tried to phone the police. Fleeing quickly from the scene we proceeded to get extremely drunk, waking up late on Sunday 14th, also known as Valentines day. Valentines day 2010 consisted of feeling hung over and discovering multicoloured foam stains akin to a leprechau’s jizz on all our clothing from the club we’d ended up at the night before. In the evening Paul became all wierdly chivalrous, buying me a Rose and a balloon bearing the message ‘Te Amo.’ He then forced me to take these items out for dinner with us in the evening, which I did (totally under duress) and we found ourselves eating the pre set Valentines menu in a rather nice restaurant. It wasn’t gay or anything.

After our Valentines escapades we left Cuenca the following morning bound for the Peruvian border and what was to be a pretty rubbish experience involving two knob heads which I’ll relate in a few days when I can be arsed. Bye for now.

Chau Colombia

The end of the last post saw us just having arrived in Medellin following a terrible coach ride in arctic temperatures and Paul being bedridden after catching some sort of horrible bug, probably from him eating  some unknown stick based meat in Cartegena. Unfortunately for Paul this wasn’t a 24 hour jobby and instead he spent virtually all of the duration of our stay in Medellin curled up in a foetal position in our dorm. This was a big shame as our hostal was really plush and Medellin a pretty cool city. Luckily for me I didn’t have to explore the city alone as a german medical student called Viola, who we met during the lost city trek, joined us and showed me around, Viola having visited Medellin before. Medellin itself is a rather curious beast with the centre featuring some fairly sketchy architecture and a lot of rotund sculptures courtesy of the Colombian artist Botero.

Medellin, famously, used to be the murder capital of the world whilst Escobar was still kicking around and although far safer today the city still has a dangerous edge. A fellow traveller told us that whilst we were touring the city’s art gallery there was a murder occured on an adjoining street, a rather unnerving reminder of Colombia’s troubled past. Despite hearing some horror stories for us Colombia generally felt safe, with the huge numbers of police and army everywhere ensuring that the ministry of tourism’s catchphrase of  ‘the only risk is wanting to stay’ can be read as being just about justified.

Representing with art.

On the third day of Medellin Paul felt a little better and was able to have a look round the city and somwhat bizarrely try on a wedding dress located in a dressing up room inside the city museum. I would like to say he looked beautiful but Paul is so hairy a little bit of sick almost escaped my mouth. The horrible visage didn’t stop plenty of Colombians cracking up and taking photos though, probably in order to scare thier kids or something by proving monsters are real.

Swings overlooking Salento

Leaving Medellin we travelled to the tiny town of Salento in the heart Colombia’s coffee growing region. The town is basically geared towards the weekend when Colombians travel to the town for a big market. Arriving on a Thursday as we did, however, the place was completely deserted apart from a number of feral dogs with massive teats who kept following us around. Despite offering Paul the princely sum of $10 he refused to suckle on the aforementioned teats, much to our disappointment. Whilst in Salento we toured a coffee farm which was surprisingly interesting, the farm not just growing coffee but a variety of fruits which made it seem like a veritable garden of eden. Whilst there we talked to a Dutch couple who showed us a picture of them meeting Gabriel Garcia Marquez in a bar in Cartegena. This was extremely annoying for us as it turned out that the bar was right next to our hostal and they were there when we were there. There goes probably my only chance to meet a nobel prize winner. (Incidentally I was also reading his book ‘Of love and other demons’ which was totally ace)

Ridin´the back of a Jeep in the freezing morning air.

Leaving coffee paradise we returned to the town and to a rather strange evenings entertainment as we played a traditional game which basically involved us throwing metal discs at gunpowder with the intention of making loud explostions happen. Good fun was had by all.

Leaving Salento having picked up another german, a nice guy called Tjark, we left for Cali, Colombia’s third largest city. The city is basically known for two main things, salsa and huge breasts, with Cali being known as the plastic surgery capital of the country. Going out on a Saturday night Viola became obsessed by pointing out all the pnematic breasts on show, which was entertaining but somewhat unnerving. Whilst in Cali we also visited the city’s well maintained zoo, with it scoring big entertainment points due to the fact that the baboons were having some pretty sordid monkey sex.

Tjark throwing metal for bangs.

From Cali we travelled to the small but perfectly formed city of Popayan where we rented bikes and discovered just how unfit we were. After 30km of mainly downhill biking which nevertheless left us depressingly exhausted we rewarded ourselves with an alleged local speciality; hot chocolate with chunks of melted cheese inside. Surprisingly it was sort of edible though it left me feeling dirty inside once the final molten piece of cheese slipped down my gullet. On the subject of food Colombian, and South American food so far, has been pretty mundane, with it mainly consisting of rice, chicken, beans and grizzly soups. Seriously, the cooking is about as heavy and creative as James Cordon. This is not a good thing. Thankfully we’ve discovered the secret to eating well in South America: not eating any South American food. Recently we’ve eaten pretty well, indulging in some fairly good Italian/Vietnemese/Mexican food.

Lumps of salty cheese in hot chocolate.

Just before leaving Popayan we tried to visit a mexican restaurant around the corner from our excellent hostal. Unfortunately this restaurant had stopped serving but happily for us a Colombian family sensed our plight, taking pity on us by whisking us half way across town to another mexican restaurant which was incredibly good, providing us with one of our best meals for the pitiful sum of $3.

Saying goodbye to Viola and Tjark, who were travelling back north, we continued southwards towards the Colombian/Ecuadorian border, spending a night in the nondescript town of Pasto. Travelling to the border the next day Paul had a little bit of a problem with his entrance visa, this problem thankfully ‘disappeared’ with the application of a $20 bribe and one smiling Ecuadorian official. From the border we bussed to a town called Otavalo which is famous across South America for its Saturday market, with it being the largest on the continent. Unfortunately for us we arrived on a Thursday and so this market was present in a largely scaled back form. Paul did, however, purchase some luminous orange trousers which when worn in conjunction with his numerous bracelets make him look borderline hippy. This is worrying for me as I dislike hippies but I can’t abandon Paul as I am still reliant on his Spanish. If he grows dreads it may, however, be too much for me and I’ll be forced to abandon him to his economically parasitical existence.

King of the hill in the Zona Cafaterra

Sketchy death bridge

From Otavalo we returned to Quito, a seemingly simple trip made into total faff by the presence of a 15,000 strong band of conference attendees stealing virtually all the beds in the city. After an hour or so of fruitless traipsing around we finally got lucky, finding a hotel in the old town which we dropped our bags in before immediately leaving to get as drunk as possible with Paul`s Ecuadorian buddies.  So, 5 weeks into our trip and we’re back where we started doing the same thing again. Pro travel.