Ecuador Part 4: Cuenca and Quito

We left Tumbes and crossed the border into Ecuador. A woman was having an argument with the border police. He had her card. She snatched it off him, abused him and pushed him. He was astonished and began insisting that he is a policeman and you just can't do that. I don't think she really cared too much to be honest what he thought. We had yet another long bus journey ahead of us to Cuenca after being dropped in the middle of nowhere in Machala. Hmm thats where I am heading when I finish up here in Quito. Keep postponing my leaving day a day at a time. Will go get some lunch after this entry. It seems like the Cameroon are 2-0 up and heading for the World Cup. Looks like Africa will be sending all of its traditional power house this time if Egypt can roll over Algeria. We arrived in Cuenca and checked into the hostel. I had been chatting with Peter (German guy from Mexico) for the last few days and we were finally going to catch up 8 months after we had last seen each other. I checked into the room and Peter greeted me and asked if I recognised the other woman in the room. Fuck me. It was Jasmine, the Aussie from Mexico City. It had been 10 months since I saw her. What a coincidence. How dod you end up in the same hostel room as two other people you spent time with in Mexico City 10 months before by accident. Very strange. Coincidences, eh. We went out for an Indian with a Dutch girl and a Yankee. We caught up on each others trips and went to a place with music and chatted all night long.

We got up and went to the modern art gallery, the cathedral and a craft museum. The gallery was not bad, the cathedral is moderately impressive and the craft museum is shit. It was only fun, because I got to chat up one of the assistants there and find out what bars were good to go to that night. Cuenca is superior to the rest of Ecuador. Its like the antithesis to the rest of the country. The people are nice, friendly, intelligent and good looking. They also treat you like people and not like cash machines. A breath of fresh air. Perhaps Cuenca could be spared Ecuador's destruction along with the Galapagos Islands. I wrote its almost not Ecuador. We lost out on the flat so I had to start searching for a new one for my time in Bogota. I popped out to a Lavamatico to wash all of my clothes, while Helen did some further site seeing. We went out for Mexican food in the evening and ended up missing the free classical concert. Then we went drinking in a bar. Bear in mind I was still on antibiotics. This was a stupid decision. A very stupid decision. We started on beer and then went to the club next to the hostel that had kept everyone awake the night before. Then I went on to drinking some hot rum with a random Jamaican dude and an Ecuadorean salsa teacher who I met in the club. Got chatting with some more locals and this looked like a gringo hunters bar. The girls were being hassled a lot when they danced and I ended up taking on the Yank in a drinking competition on this weird hot rum. By this point I was getting a little fucked up. So we headed for another club. The girls were very attractive from what little I remember, but it was here I turned on the charm. I ended up chatting with some local at the girl's toilets and was then upstairs with Helen and Peter. I have pieced this night together from other's accounts. Apparently I said I wanted to get a local girl, but then said 'Damn it I'm drunk, I'll just take the easy option. Where's the Yank.' Classy. I followed this up when I found her by saying 'Your good looking...enough.' Not my finest hour. We danced all of us a bit hammered and then headed back to the hostel wheer I was yelling down the streets that I had never slept with a blonde girl. I then followed Helen and the Yank into their bathroom where they were cleaning their teeth before being ordered back to my room. It was very much Francois style and probably my least charming moment since the time I stripped naked in my street at home and told all my neighbours to suck my cock, while I was covered in blood from smashing my face into the floor. I think I was going to pay for this night in more ways than one the next day.

I wrote 'we missed the bus because I was completely buggered'. Thats pretty succinct and accurate. Apparently Helen tried to wake me up twice but I don't even remember and I told her to go away. The Yank eventually woke me up and said I was a bit of a creeper the night before. That was an understatement. I would actually feel physically sick for two days after this incident, underlining the stupidity of it. I wrote 'so rough' and the next entry 'still rough'. Eventually I said goodbye to everyone, somehow was not sick and limped to the bus for a 12 hour journey. Was meant to meet Liz, who I had met on the streets of Quito in May but was not going to get there in time. I finally met her and her sister yesterday and am supposed to be going out with them tonight. A twelve hour bus journey. Just what you want when you are almost dead. Then the tyre blew up and the bus broke down. Fucking typical. We got loaded onto another bus that we had to pay for and we got to stand and watch 'Ironman', though we were sitting for 'District 13' and a dodgy Argentina comedy. Not a bad trio for an Ecuadorean bus though. We arrived in the new terminal. I was unaware they had built a new one, but it was probably a good idea to avoid the run the risk style crack run from the station to anywhere you wanted to go. The new terminal was in the middle of fucking nowhere though. As is the northern one, but at least the southern one is a real terminal. We ended up taking an expensive taxi to an expensive hotel, but Helen paid for the majority of it as I was out of dollars. I found out that the flat was back on in Bogota, but that I had to make it by monday. It was now sunday morning. The race was on.

In the morning I said goodbye to Helen. She would have further misfortune on the route back. She joked with the Iberia desk that they should not lose her bag this time, but they did just that leaving it in Madrid. I know you should never trust any company that is associated with British Airways, but to lose two bags on one trip is spectacularly incompetent even by their standards. They did post it to her house from Madrid though. I took a bus from the northern outpost to the border. Requested 90 days at the border as I knew I would need around 92 in order to complete my course. In hindsight it was stupid for me to corss the border when I did. I should have waited. I was running a serious risk of shooting myself in the foot over the entrance to a course for $2,000 solely to wrap up a flat and because I missed Colombia so much. I may have to be an illegal immigrant unless I can get 33 more days. Got some good food in Ipiales and then set off on the mammoth bus ride to Bogota (22 hours, though my crazy driver made it in around 18). I ended up watching '21'. Good music. The book is a little ripped apparently. No idea what book I was talking about. Maybe this one, but Dom reckons it makes them look like real travel journals. We got breakfast after crawling through the hills into Ibague. Hmm we passed the wreckage of another Fronteras bus. I think it was the one before mine that I had luckily missed, even though at the time I was cursing it. My luck seems to be keeping up for now. Cool old man. Not sure who. There seem to be a million signs for this town of Giloyan. Maybe I need to visit it. Even when you pass it, there are signs saying it is behind you, turn around, like they are incredulous that you could possibly have passed by the town. Interesting. A long bus ride makes these pointless things suddenly seem profound. Ah Bogota at last and that's where I spent my last 3 months. Class. My second home and the first place I have lived outside of the M25.