Huanchaco, Peru

Mosquito nets, blazing sunshine, suffocating humidity, no hot water and no need for it…I wanted to get away from the dark British winter nights, and by heck my wish has been granted in spades.

So then, one country down, several still to go. Ecuador is beautiful, but one aspect in which it really falls down is the quality of its taxi drivers, who are collectively about as much use as a bag of pork scratchings in a Jewish health farm. None of them know where anything is. Even when you give them a full address, in writing, they just stare at it and scratch their heads. I suppose I can’t grumble given how cheap they are – in Loja any taxi, from anywhere to anywhere else, is $1. (So I could have had a free ride if I’d found that dollar in Loja instead of in Cuenca (see last time)).

From Loja I got a long, slow and spectacularly scenic bus ride to Piura in Peru. The first half of the journey was a dizzying series of swoops up and down misty mountain passes; the second half was a slow trundle across endless flat straight roads, through semi-desert scrublands. It all gets a bit post-apocalyptic in the Peruvian countryside. The main national pastime appears to be fly-tipping, and there is political graffiti everywhere, exhorting people to vote, as long as they vote for the incumbent of course.

Piura seemed like a bit of a shit-hole, and it also served as my introduction to the terrifyingly chaotic maelstrom of savagery, brutality and hatred that is a Peruvian traffic jam. I’ve never seen anything like it. It makes Bangkok look like Henley Regatta. No wonder all the taxi drivers have religious icons and pictures plastered all over the insides of their cabs: they need all the help they can get.

One particular taxi driver in Piura made a concerted effort to short-change me by 10 soles (about £2.50), but he stood no chance. He clearly wasn’t expecting to be tangling with someone like me. My chief weapon is excellent maths skills. Excellent maths skills, and extreme tight-fistedness. Two chief weapons. Maths skills, tight-fistedness, and an inherent distrust of foreigners. OK that’s three chief weapons. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! Sadly my Spanish is still quite poor so I couldn’t verbally abuse that driver the way I wanted to. I just sat there in the back seat and glared at him, refusing to move until he handed over the rest of the dosh.

I stayed only one night in Piura. (It may be a shit-hole, but it redeemed itself at lunchtime yesterday with a steak straight from God’s very own celestial grill). I then headed out on another scenic bus ride to Trujillo, founded in 1534 and named after Metallica’s current bass player. From Trujillo I took a taxi to Huanchaco, where I am right now. See photo. Lovely place. Sun, sea and sand. Just like Sunderland, in a way…




Huanchaco

 

Loja, Ecuador

Sunburn can be especially unkind to pale-skinned white guys with shaved heads. A bit of peeling, a couple of scabs, and all of a sudden I look like a cross between Mikhail Gorbachev and the Singing Detective. The hat is staying on for a while.

When I got into the back seat of the taxi to take me to Cuenca bus station on Thursday morning, I found a dollar coin lying at my feet. As I’m an honest guy, I picked it up and reached forward and placed it on the front passenger seat. The driver immediately erupted into a rapid stream of Spanish, and I didn’t catch a word of it but the meaning was plain: “I’m not taking you all the way to the bus station for one measly dollar, you stinking tight-fisted gringo mound of decomposing llama poop.” Houston, we have a misunderstanding. I tried to explain that it was just a dollar I’d found, but unfortunately at that precise moment I couldn’t for the life of me remember the verb for ‘find’ (encontrar). Fortunately he spoke a little bit of English, so between us we cleared it up and parted friends. Phew.

Another misunderstanding occurred the second time I went into that Zoe restaurant I mentioned previously. I was coming back from the gents to my table, which was near the main door; and the waiter was nowhere to be seen; and I was dressed reasonably smartly. The result, somewhat inevitably, was that an American couple walked in and asked me if they could have a table for two. (I wish I’d had the presence of mind to say – sure, the special offer tonight is all you can eat for $20 each, cash up front, thanks, sit anywhere you like, I’m off, bye).

Anyway I’m currently spending my second night in Loja, which is not quite as nice as Cuenca but worth visiting nonetheless. I’m staying at the Grand Hotel, which, as that particular name always seems to hint, is distinctly past its best. They have their own printed towels, but I don’t think they ever made it past the first edition.

Incidentally, my mobile doesn’t seem to work at all over here, so if anybody has tried texting me then apologies.

I took no nonsense from the bitch on reception

I've checked and it's definitely Hotel Prado.
I wonder if the signwriters actually got paid?
At least the emblem is spelt correctly!

Iglesia Santo Dominga, Loja

Iglesia Matriz, Loja

that church again...and a statue...

church.................statue..............zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A simple spelling mistake? Or something more sinister?

It looks like another church, but I suspect it's actually where the local drug lord lives

Cuenca, Ecuador

Quito is a spectacular place, full of natural and cultural wonders, but like all capital cities it’s also polluted, overcrowded and frankly a bit rough at times. After the bars close there is a tangible change in the atmosphere on the streets. I like to think I’ve got a pretty good sixth sense for avoiding trouble, and it was signalling to me loudly in Quito. Besides which, I’ve got a continent to cross. So I headed out to Cuenca.

Cuenca is one of the prettiest towns you're ever likely to see, as the photos below will hopefully demonstrate. I took a long bus ride here from Quito on Sunday - the flight is only $100 or so, but only the local airlines run it. I only fly with airlines that come from countries I trust, and as a general rule the test I apply is whether or not I’d be reasonably happy about getting arrested there. (Admittedly this rule is being waived in a few weeks, for Emirates, but at least I know that one won’t get hijacked.)

Next to me on the bus was a slim woman, travelling alone, who read at intervals from what looked like a small pamphlet of religious devotions, and continually whispered them softly to herself. No doubt she was imploring her Saviour to defend her from the fierce temptations of the flesh awakened in her by sitting next to the handsome gringo. That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

Anyway, we finally arrived in Cuenca at 1.45am, much to the obvious displeasure of my hostel’s elderly female proprietor (let’s call her Noras Battios). I guess she had been fast asleep. She’s been OK with me since though.

The eating and drinking here is marvellous if you know where to go. There are hundreds of dodgy-looking and suspiciously empty fast-food joints, but I found an excellent restaurant called Zoe where I had lomo de cerdo con mote pillo (pork loin with egg corn) last night, the best cut of pork I've ever tasted, and chicken cordon bleu tonight.

Yesterday lunchtime, in a different restaurant, I ordered a bottle of Corona and I was somewhat surprised to see him ring it through the till at $5 – that seemed a bit steep for this part of the world – but when it arrived, it was 710ml, ie nearly a pint and a half. Marvellous.

I’m slightly sunburnt and my feet are aching a bit from some very long walks, but otherwise I’m doing fine and I hope everyone back home is good too. Heading out on the bus again tomorrow.

la casa

Cuenca

the Rio Tomebamba

Iglesia Todos Santos in the distance

Their graffiti is way better than ours



the famous Statue Del Tony Pulis



Iglesia San Sebastian

Iglesia San Sebastian



Cuenca at night



Quito, Ecuador (continued)

The posh hotel suite has been left behind, and now I'm in a hostel, fraternising with Americans, Germans, Danes, Irish, Australians, Austrians, Irish and an Israeli, among others. I'm even on friendly terms with a Frenchman, which is easier said than done. I served my home country proud with some strong performances on the pool table, but our national standing then took a bad dent at 3am on Friday morning, when three annoying posh male English gap-year trustafarians came in pissed and decided to have as loud a conversation as they could, in the dorm right next to mine.

'Raa raa raa raa raa,' said one of them.
'Raa raa raa...' his friend agreed.
'Raa raa raa raa, raa raa raa,' piped up the third, not wanting to be left out.

The discussion continued in this manner for about an hour and a half. Fortunately they left the next day, lamented by nobody.

Anyway, see below for my photographic and indeed cinematographic efforts to date. All photos in this blog are 1000x750 size, reduced from 4000x3000 on the camera for faster downloading. At some point I'll get round to putting the hi-res images up somewhere separately for closer inspection.

Quito is a nice place, as long as one is careful, but I never really imagined it as one of the highlights of my trip and I'm expecting to be out of here tomorrow. Today has been especially pleasant for me, as I watched SAFC 2 Swansea 0 on my netbook and saw N*wc*stle get spanked 5-2 off Fulham live on ESPN at the same time. All before lunch. Life is beautiful.

Punk's Not Dead! (university campus grounds)

El Panecillo, a hill overlooking the Old City, topped by a statue of the Virgin
(said by the locals to be the only one in town)



24 de Mayo
(many streets in Quito and elsewhere in Latin America
are named after significant dates in their battles for independence)



24 de Mayo again

South Quito, from the top of El Panecillo

'Love, respect and faithfulness will always be with us.'
I presume Jonathan and Gaby are English. I hope I never meet them.



A miracle! God shone a rainbow on a church! (nearly)



the Virgin atop El Panecillo

Downtown Quito, from the top of the cable car






The last church on the road to the volcano



Quito, Ecuador

I've often been told that it's the journey, not the destination, that really counts. Bollocks. Today my journey was 14 hours in economy class: my destination, where I am now, is a plush hotel suite (yes, suite) with an ice cold Corona in my hand. The journey definitely came a poor second.

Had to be up at 4am this morning to catch my 5.55am flight. This gave me the opportunity to set a personal best and indeed possibly a new world record by having my first beer of the day at 4.38am. Beat that if you can. A short wait at Schipol, during which I topped myself up with a Heineken (beers in two countries before 9am! Another record?), and then off across the Atlantic.

It was daylight all the way to Quito so I didn't bother trying to sleep. I watched 'The Usual Suspects' and 'Dr Strangelove' and did lots of Sudokus (the airport pints and the in-flight beers didn't really help there, I must admit). I also read a couple of books on my spanking new Kindle, which I can heartily recommend to all of you. Apart from those who've already got one, as there isn't really much point in having two.

I got out of the airport just as the sun was setting and caught brief glimpses of some really remarkable scenery, to which I'll hopefully be able to do photographic justice in due course. I didn't have time for photos today, because it was misty and raining and getting dark quickly, and the taxi ride took a while due to rush-hour traffic. Also, more pressingly, my pre-flight Immodium had worn off completely and the ensuing struggle was frankly a photo finish, but I'm pleased to report that I prevailed in the end.

Perhaps I didn't really need to share that last bit.

Anyway, moving swiftly on, I got settled in my hotel and then went out for a wander to stretch my legs. On the way home I bought an authentic locally-sourced indigenous Andean BBQ bacon and cheese burger for my tea.

I think I'm feeling the altitude sickness ever so slightly (Quito is 9,000 feet - nearly two miles - above sea level), but it's nothing major, I just need to walk a bit slower. The fact that I've now been awake for nearly 24 hours is probably a factor too.

A quick word for those of you who read my previous travel blog in 2008. (An even quicker word first for those who haven't read it: scroll all the way down and have a look!). This one is going to have less words and more pictures. Last time was all about me being a wide-eyed travel novice Idiot Abroad type, but now of course I'm a grizzled, hardened veteran of...er...last time and this time. The main thing is that I'll do my best to keep it readable, concise and interesting. Thanks for reading and I hope you're all doing well back in Blighty and elsewhere!