Action Jackson and Adventures of Ecuador

I picked Hostal Jhomana, Quito, as my base for my last week in South America, largely based on positive feedback on Hostelbooker.com and the fact it´s owned by a Swede - a pretty sure sign that the place will be decently insulated (Quito´s nights are freezing) and I´ll be able to conduct business in English if needed. Practicing Spanish is great, but some of the more complex stuff is just painfully beyond my linguistic ability.

Anyway, Jhomana turned out to be a great choice. Even though 23 dollars a night is a ripoff by Quito standards (rooms in the Mariscal are available for around 8 dollars if you´re really looking to pinch pennies), I got a warm, ensuite shower, a comfy double bed and most importantly, three warm blankets for those cold nights. The place is also well located in the Mariscal Sucre neighbourhood, next to all the services but on a quiet enough spot that I could get sleep when needed. And the owner, Patrick, turned out to be a great connection - in addition to running the hostel, he is on the board of Gulliver Adventure Travel, and was able to hook me up with a killer itinerary for my visit.

The first day I spent just getting to know Quito a bit; the Fiesta Quito was on this week, meaning there are "Chivas" (trucks full of musicians and cheering, dancing crowds, not unlike Finnish "Vanhojen Paiva") cruising the streets, bullfights every day, and huge parties every night. I went to see a bull fight, but after three toros met their demise, it started raining heavily, so I headed home. Also took a stroll around Quito´s old center, with some very nice colonial era churches. I grabbed dinner at a very nice restaurant called Boca del Lobo ("Wolf´s Mouth"), with cool, quirky decor and super friendly staff. My food was Ishipinga Salmon, with ishipinga being a spice that tastes like a mix of chilli and cinnamon - delicious. The nutella crepe with mint chocolate sauce dessert also deserves a mention. I skipped the partying afterwards, however, as the following morning´s wake up call was painfully at 5:45.

The morning wasn´t as painful as I had feared; I was still more or less on Buenos Aires time (3 hours ahead of Quito), and had gotten to bed early. I was picked up at a nearby hostel (decided to walk, although walking in the Mariscal after dark is not recommended - I assumed any would-be robbers had already gotten their pick of drunken tourists by 6am) to go rafting near the Amazonas forest, in Valle del Quijos. After a tasty eggs-and-juice breakfast, a thorough safety talk, and a joint effort to pump up the raft, we hit the Borja-Chaco-Bombón section of the Quijos river. Our guide explained that it had rained heavily the night before, and therefore the last canyon section was not safe to raft. Instead, we could do the first section twice. It would still be a class IV+ (on a scale that goes up to V), so we should expect a pretty rough ride. And indeed, we got what we bargained for. All six of us had to work hard to navigate the rapids, although luckily only one of the group (an older Ecuadorian guy, who was scouting out rafting sub-contractors for his travel agency) fell out of the raft. After a couple of hours of fun on the river, the guides prepared a delicious guacamole and beans tortilla lunch, with a plethora of fresh fruits for dessert, served out of the back of our mini-van. It started raining just as we started eating, so perfect timing for getting out of the river (not that the rain would have gotten us any wetter than we already were).

After getting back to Quito, showering and hanging my clothes to dry, I headed to an Ecuadorian restaurant called Mama Clorindas, also in the Mariscal barrio. I had been a little weary of "local specialties" after that guinea pig got me sick, but this place looked inpeccably hygienic, so I tried a combo of shrimp ceviche (very different to what we got in Peru, this was almost like a cold soup served with chips and popcorn), Seco de Chivo (goat meat stew, although the English menu mercifully translated it as lamb), and Morocho juice (sweet, thick liquid made of corn - supposedly it can be fermented to create a kind of moonshine). All were delicious, and the goat was actually very tender. On the way back, I came across a massive parade of costumed figures, cheerleaders, marching bands, Miss Quito candidates, uniformed soldiers, and large statues of politicians, indigenous warriors, townspeople, zombies, you name it... The progression blocked my path home across Avenida Rio Amazonas, so I had no choice but to stay and watch. The stream of people in the parade seemed endless, and there were also four rows of spectators on either side of the road. Every once in a while someone would shout "Viva Quito", and everyone in the audience would respond with a loud "Viva!". I gathered that the parade consisted of different schools and organizations, each with their own sign or banner, displaying different styles of music and dance. Lots of fun, and despite Mariscal´s rowdy reputation, I once again got out without getting robbed. Back at the hostel, I watched the night conclude in a display of fireworks that I had a perfect view of from my window. Very appropriate for Finland´s independence day, although I suspect the date may also have some special meaning in Ecuador, especially since one of Mariscal´s largest streets is also named "Av. 6 de Diciembre". Interestingly enough, they also have an "Av. 9 de Outubre" to commemorate my birthday, right next to my hostel. How nice of them.

Skipped the partying again, to get some sleep before the next day´s trip to Quilotoa, a volcano at 4,100 meters, whose crater is now occupied by a lake. The drive was something like 4 hours, and on the way we stopped by an indigenous market. It was fun to see the people in traditional dress, selling fresh fruits of hundreds of variations, flour from exotic cereals, cooked meats, live chickens, dead chickens, pirated DVDs, salsa CDs, and "genuine" 10 dollar Dolce & Gabbana belts. We also had to make several ad hoc stops along the way to let flocks of sheep, cows, and the occasional llama cross the road; at one point we even came across a ditch where the construction workers told us we´d have to wait until after their lunch break so they could place a temporary bridge for us to cross. A bribe of 3 dollars speeded up the process considerably and saved us the wait.

After getting our own lunch (delicious hot soup and lamb with rice), we saw the beautiful crater lake and made our way down to the water. I rented a kayak (for the grand price of 2 dollars) together with Yulia, a Ukrainian woman in our group travelling with her American firefighter husband, Jason. We paddled over to a section of the otherwise cool water that seemed to be bubbling, and amazingly enough, the bubbles felt warm to the touch. The volcano is still active, and the bubbles originate from a crack at the bottom of the lake, with hot magma underneath. According to our guide, Marcelo, the last time the volcano erupted (some 300 years ago), the eruption was equivalent in force to about 10 Hiroshima a-bombs, so we were lucky today wasn´t the day of the next eruption.

The way up was also interesting: we were each given a mule to ride. The journey back was relatively long, and I soon started feeling sorry for my sweating, hard-breathing mule. Every time it tried taking a break, the rider behind me would whack it on the rump. I felt even sorrier for the maybe 7-year old indigenous girl who was supposed to guide my mule. She was barely keeping up with the animal on foot, and was constantly coughing - I felt like letting her ride the mule and walking up myself, but in the end all I could do was give her a dollar in tip (which she seemed very happy about) once we got to the top. Hard work wasn´t the mules´only problem. Mine seemed to have some suicidal tendencies, as given any opportunity, it would try to head down from the steep cliff. Now, I can understand life as a pack mule can be tough, but I would appreciate it if it didn´t end it while I´m riding... Valentin, a Swiss guy in our group, had a mule with a different problem: severe flatulence. The sound of the animal´s farting provided plenty of entertainment throughout the trip, although I´m not sure if the rider immediately behind appreciated the aroma.

After our eventful ascent, we took a breather with some cold cervezas, then drove back down. Everyone except the driver (hopefully) took the chance to catch some sleep. I was dropped off at PapaGayo, a farm/hostel an hour´s drive outside Quito, while the rest of the group continued to the capital. The reason for my staying at PapaGayo was my attempt the following day of summiting Cotopaxi, the world´s highest active volcano (5,800 meters). PapaGayo turned out to be great - they have a hot jacuzzi, which I took full advantage of, and an on-site chef preparing some great foods. I am the only guest for tonight, so have a 4-bed dorm all to myself (8 dollars per night). Funnily enough, the guy working the hostel´s reception turned out to be Finnish; Joonas just finished high school and is in Ecuador learning Spanish in his gap year before college. It was fun being able to speak Finnish after a while, and of course we were both pretty amazed at the coincidence, with my being the only guest. Small world.

Tomorrow I´ll meet my private guide for Cotopaxi, we´ll go over some techniques and check the equipment and get to the base camp at 4,800 meters. The actual climb will start at midnight, hopefully getting me to the summit just in time for sunrise the following day. This should be a worthy finale for my trip in South America (although I´m a little worried about the adequacy of my acclimatization - but hey, at least I will have tried).