Fleeing from Quito, or "¡Eso no sabía!"

I am way behind in posting, I realize. It's been a hectic couple of weeks, though, with trying to get settled and everything else.

Anyhow, hellooo from Ecuador! Finally!

The best part of the flight down was the fact that I had _3 seats_ all to myself! Hopefully this is a harbinger of good things to come.

Quito was everything it usually is: crowded, expensive, and semi-frustrating, but with great food* and amazing views. Normally, I would hightail it outta there directly from the airport, but I had (what was ostensibly) important business to attend to. Namely, I had to register my fancy new visa the next morning. *All* I had to do was take my paperwork and passport into the offices of foreign relations. No problem, right? Well, not exactly.

First off, Quito is enormous, and I’m fairly unfamiliar with it. Also, not being a planned city, let’s say it’s “unintuitive” in that it’s built spreading upwards from the valley (the bottom of which is at an elevation of about 10,500 ft.), with the houses spreading all the way up to elevations that you’d never expect people to live at. Many of the neighborhoods, especially those on the outskirts, are comprised of cobbled together houses with tin roofs. Also also, when one comes from sea-level to 11,000 or so feet, one feels ready to pass out, even from just walking a few blocks at a granny’s pace. This can be especially intense when “one” has not yet managed to quit smoking.

Isn't it beautiful, though?

Anyhow, after some blundering around the city on the bus line (which is fabulous, and costs about $.25), and with the some local help, I did find the office of foreign relations, and was immediately accosted by a gaggle of lawyers in front of the iron gates that surround the edifice, all of whom were offering their help navigating the process. But I already did my “process” back in California, over the course of several weeks and one very very long day at the Consulate. Or so I thought. After running the lawyer gamut, I got to meet Mr. Machinegun guy, and tell him my business before being allowed in the gate. Seeing that: a) I have a funny accent, and b) I couldn’t really breathe after walking up the hill to get to the office, it was probably fairly obvious to him from the outset why I was there, even before I pulled out all of my stamped photos and documents to show him, “No, really, I’m not from here! See?”.

The waiting room of this office was pretty standard looking. There was, of course, a television mounted to the wall, as is the case in most public places in Ecuador. But the truly unbelievable aspect of this waiting room involved the huge bank of about 70 chairs, each row having about 10 (connected) chairs. Once I get into the room, I have to again go through my “why I’m here” shpiel to Mr. Machinegun guy #2, and he instructs me to sit in the very last empty seat in this bank of chairs. He is very specific about this. As I’m sitting there wondering how they’ll know whom to call next, a person in the very first chair in the room gets called for her turn. And, here is where it gets fun: what ensues is a 60-odd-person, musical-chairs-like shift. Everybody gets up, and advances one seat towards the front of the line. When the line is really moving, you’re getting up like 3 or 4 times a minute, in consort with 60 other people. Everyone is laughing and plopping themselves into their new position in the line, each time moving their coats, bags and folders with them. It is great fun, and actually, the 2-hour wait passes by in a flash. Even though I’m the only ferner in the room (which seems weird, considering the office I’m in), and even though I’m sure everybody but me has done this before, it adds a certain joviality to an otherwise un-fun situation. It’s little things like this that make me love this place.

So, when I get into the back office to present my documents to the appropriate person, she tells me, “Great! You have almost everything you need!”. What could possibly be missing? Well, aside from the $10 payment to the government that has to be deposited directly into the Banco Internacional, via their checking account (which they give you the actual account number for!), and notorized, I was also missing the special file folder, with special clamps for my special documents. This is apparently a nation-wide protocol. Duh. Ok, then! ¡Eso no sabía!

So, I’m off to find the bank, which the government official assures me is “Just right across the street”, which in Quito, translates to “Somewhere in the vicinity, on any number of the 6 intersecting avenues in that part of town, maybe up a huge frigging hill, maybe not”. So, I figure this is going to take some searching, and buy a bottle of water on the way and ask for directions from the tiny (tiny, as in half my height) indigenous grandma working in the kiosk. She literally walks me almost all the way to the bank, which it turns out, is not terribly far. Not that I would’ve ever found it otherwise, though. At the bank, I wait in another line, make my payment, get my official receipt, and head out to find one of these special folders with a special clamp for my special documents. You can’t just go to a Walgreens here, either. You have to go to a special paper store. I figure that the chances of finding one of these quickly are low, and so I buy another bottle of water. At this point, I’m getting light-headed, and my legs are feeling wobbly. Loving the altitude. Just loving it. Much to my surprise (again!), there is a paper store as soon as I turn the corner. Hey! So, I fumble through some idiotically long-winded explanation of what it is that I specifically need, and the employee patiently listens to me, and says, “Oh, a document folder, then!” Right. So, $.32 later, I am on my way, really this time, to register my fancy new visa.

Except, when I get back (up the hill, again, I might add) to the government offices, Mr. Machine gun guy (#1) won’t let me back in the building. “We don’t work after noon”, he tells me. It would have been nice to know this before hand, but fine. ¡Otra chucha cosa que no sabía! I decide to get the hell out of Quito, as soon as is humanly possible, and to register my visa at a later date, when my head and chest don’t feel like they are about to implode.

So, thus began the odyssey towards Baños, where I planned to do some altitude acclimatization, and some hot springs-oriented activities.

More soon!

¡Un fuerte abrazo!


*Who knew that there was a huge Eastern Indian population there? Not me!