We Are (at the centre of) the World

Well my 10-day whirlwind Ecuadorian adventure came to an end on Thursday as we crossed the border into Colombia. Myself and travel friends Joe, Tristan and Rob stayed in the Colombian border town of Ipiales as we were too late to get a nightbus to Cali, Colombia, where we reached the following day without incident.

But more on Ecuador. Last Saturday myself and Joe left Banos in the early morning to go on a tour of the sights between Banos and Quito, the capital, further north. It was just as well we were up and out by dawn, as what we later discovered was a volcano warning alarm was sounded all over town. We thought the Luftwaffe were about to arrive. Nobody in Banos seemed to bat an eyelid. A couple of people glanced upwards at the towering volcanoes to see if there were any Jurassic streams of molten lava hurtling down the mountainside to engulf the town. There wasn't. The alarm went on for a puzzling half an hour though nonetheless.

First stop on the tour (led by guides Javier and a rather surly driver whose name I forget) was a town called Zumbahua, which has a colourful saturday market. There were few gringoes around for a change, and the market sold the usual array of Andean bric-a-brac and dubious looking foodstuffs. Joe, who at six foot one towers above virtually all Ecuadorians, failed to find a jumper that fitted him, and left the market empty handed. The main focus of the day was Quilotoa, a tiny village on the edge of a vast volcanic crater that is filled with an emerald-green lake. We were staying at a house there with Javier's uncle Miguel and his family. Javier's own family lived down the hill from Miguel's, and Javier introduced us to his much younger siblings. Kids in Ecuador are so well behaved, friendly and inquisitive, and a refreshing tonic to their western equivalents. It is great not to have to be in Tesco's to witness a screaming devil spawn, raising hell because their mother won't buy them a bag of Haribo. But I do miss Haribo myself a bit. More on missing things later.

We hiked down to the bottom of the crater and hired a boat around the water, and then were taken back up to the top on horseback. After a poor night's sleep with about 18 still-insufficient blankets to protect against the intense cold - at one point I considered covering myself in deep heat and swallowing lighter fluid to combat it - we got up and visited Cotopaxi, a perfect, cone-shaped, snow-capped volcano further north. Unfortunately it was swathed in cloud, so we saw very little. We did walk up to the refugio at 5,800 metres, where for the first time in the Andes I experienced a bit of proper altitude sickness (sorroche to the locals), which consists of headaches and mild nausea, and being out of breath. We did reach some snow though. We then mountain biked down the lower slopes, and both me and Joe fell off at one point. I blame the dodgy, potholed Ecuadorian mountain roads, rather than the poor cycling.

The tour ended and we flagged down a bus on the Pan-American to whisk us off to Quito. Quito is a corridor of a city, hemmed in on either side by a narrow valley. We stayed in a nice hostel called El Centro del Mundo, where they gave us a free bucket (yes, bucket) of rum and coke every other night. Like Lima, there is little to do in Quito other than hit the many bars, clubs and restaurants in our area of El Mariscal, which is boutiquey, trendy and despite all this, quite dangerous. The only activity of note was to visit the equator, where there is a museum and a painted line.

I imagined it to be slightly tacky and touristy, but it was a big surprise. As well as the obligatory pictures on the line itself (where me and Joe shook hands with our Australian friends with us on the northern side, them on the south), there was some interesting experiments to do. We discovered it is indeed easier to balance an egg on a nail on the equator. I witnessed a our tiny Ecuadorian guide failing to prise Joe's clamped arms open away from the line, yet managing to do it with ease on the line itself. Very odd indeed. Apparently something to do with centrifugal forced being equal on the actual line. The guide also proved something that I had previously thought to be an urban myth - leaves in a basin full of draining water will spin anti-clockwise or clockwise depending on which hemisphere they are in, yet will sink straight and true on the line itself. As well as appealing to the geography geek in me, the museum also contained lots of interesting exhibits about Ecuadorian jungle tribes, and we all had a go at firing a dart through a blowpipe at an overhanging cactus leaf. I am happy to report that Rob and I succeeded, whereas Joe and Tristan failed. We also saw a 100-year-old shrunken head, and were also offered the chance to try on a hat made of cornflour, for reasons beyond me.

We also took part in a pub quiz in an Irish bar near our hostel, in which we came second. I am ashamed to admit, Warren, especially in writing, that it took me approximately six minutes to remember the name of the singer of Joy Division. I'm sorry, my mind froze and I panicked, imagining having to later confess to you that we lost the quiz because of this one question.

Tiring of Quito and its perils, we got on a bus to Colombia on Thursday. Currently in salsa-mad Cali, where I even attempted some salsa dancing. It looks pathetically easy to master the rudimentaries, but I think I am going to have to endure many more ignominies before getting the hang of it. I reckon I'll be here for months to come, certainly for Xmas and New Year, so there is certainly time. In my hostel, run by English guy Dave, there are Tetley teabags. Of all the things I have missed from home, this is it. Some English guy the other week asked a few of us what drink we would all have, specifically from the UK, if we could. While everyone else went for things like Magner's, Kronenbourg or Guiness, I sheepishly went for Tetley's tea. Builder´s tea. Proper tea. You can't get anything like this in South America. Dave looked a bit embarrassed at what a song and dance I made of finding proper tea. In fact, I am off to have another right now. It's going to be brilliant.

PS other things I am currently missing from home (people aside): Kelly and Nicola´s roast dinners, sitting in a pub on the Thames, Haribo sweets, my deafening stereo speakers, Vince Noir and Howard Moon, watching a certain couple of music videos with Raj, Liz and Ella, Test Match Special on the radio, and not even knowing what reggaeton is. Reggaeton is the vile hybrid of reggae, dancehall reggae and R&B that is inescapable in Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador and Colombia. I actually miss being ignorant of it, such is my dislike of it. Still, can't complain. Year off work and all that.

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