Ecuador was under enormous pressure to be incredible, as it took us 3 days and a combination of what felt like endless and useless buses, dodgy hotel rooms and a lack of nutritional food – lunching on Oreos for three days straight is not fun. When we finally arrived at the border we were thrilled to cross into Ecuador. Just as fast we had been herded onto a bus headed for Quito, the first ones on we sat chilling feeling like expert backpackers, smug grins on our faces that finally we could relax and our destination felt nearby. Every bus you board in South America will have various food vendors trying to sell you their goods, which range from nuts, sweets, questionable sandwiches and Ice Cream-to name a few. Usually we politely decline, trying not to sound to enthusiastic with our “no Gracias”, not to offend South Americans, but often their choice of snack is just not in the slightest way appealing to a westernised palette. However, something came over us in our good moods, and we purchased from a local man. We had no idea what. We can only describe it as a fried banana, with a crisp shell (similar to batter you might find on a sausage in your local chippy), with cheese melted in the middle. Disgusted? I wouldn’t judge you if you were, but we have to admit it was delicious. Eventually we removed the cheese as it felt a bit out of place, but Ecuadorians drink hot chocolate with cheese inside it, so it didn’t sound strange to us initially! However the taste did start to feel strange, but after extracting said cheese we went on to demolish the rest of our labelled ‘deep fried banana’ with great satisfaction. The bus was now full, feeling like ‘ballers’ with our front row seats (extra leg room) and now full stomachs we were more than ready for the departure-which was naturally 15 minutes late. A couple were rushed on the bus with a baby, and it appeared we were in their seats. Confused as we had not even paid to ride the bus yet, we attempted to challenge them, but very clearly they had tickets with seat numbers. Furious we demanded to get off the moving bus, it had not yet left the car park. We strongly informed them we refused to stand or be apart from one another. ‘Luckily’ (the irony in that word is still infuriating) there were two seats on the back row, we unhappily accepted this offer mostly due to the pure laziness in arguing and the effort and energy it would take to swap buses. The journey continued to be somewhat of a circus act, this bus was surely run by clowns, as random people performed then asked for money. ‘Performed’ is kind, in reality this included an evidently tone deaf man singing out of tune, what can only be described as a nursery rhyme or hymn you might be forced to sing whilst crossed legged in assembly. The bus stopped over ten times, allowing random vendors on to sell all sorts of strange things, including pirate DVD’s. It was tedious to say the least, but thankfully Quito is just 5 hours away so we did not have to endure this madness for too long.

A taxi from the bus station to Plaza Foch, the main square located in the new town, will rob you of a staggering $10. Those reading this at home may mistake the latter sentence as sarcasm, whereas fellow backpackers will recognise this as an outrageous amount to pay. The heavens opened, Quito greeted us with a tropical storm as the sun was swallowed up by the mountains and replaced with a blanket of darkness. We didn’t have the energy to wander hostal to hostal comparing in these conditions, we just wanted a bed to sleep in, so settled on the first hotel we found. Quito’s new town area is surprisingly westernised and noisy. Layered with bars, blaring out music and all boasting a chalk board with drinks offers. Plaza Foch was lively, riddled with locals and backpackers relishing the alcoholic beverages on offer. We opted for a restaurant a few blocks down, quiet and quirky with colourful décor and a menu which made us drool like when a dog gets a first whiff of its dinner as you peel back the tin. The food did not disappoint although the bill did. Ecuador is significantly more expensive than Colombia and we were not prepared for it.

The following day we awoke feeling revitalised after an undisturbed sleep. We headed down to breakfast which upon check in we were informed was 7am-10am. It was 9.20am and a girl, who we had not met before, told us breakfast finished at 9am. Hayley was raised in a strong willed and opinionated household and can hold her own very well in any form of argument or disagreement. To summarise, after 15 minutes of shouting, google translating and Hayley even bringing the sign located at the front desk to the girl,furiously pointing and repeating the words “breakfast is served 7am-10am”, she won and breakfast was made for us. No apology from the extremely rude, obnoxious and idiotic girl, who disappeared off in a child like tantrum. After this incident we packed our bags and left in search of an alternative hostal. In contrast to our first experience of accommodation, “Blue House Hostal” is a high recommendation from us. Ideal location, extremely helpful staff and fair prices-plus breakfast is included.

We ventured towards the Old Town, via the local bus-top way to get around, costing just 25C pp and has its own lane to beat all the traffic. Quito’s old town is not as pretty as other colonial places we have visited on our trip, although it is a nice area to walk around, with many museums and historical buildings to endure.

The Basilica can be compared to a British Cathedral in both size and architectural structure. It is unlike other colonial cathedrals we have seen, the similarities to those in Britain is uncanny. A grey exterior, boasting a high ceiling and clock tower, long in the body with carefully carved décor. Inside we were greeted with more colour than you would ever see on the interior of a British Cathedral. Impressive stain glass windows and patterned ceilings accompanied by statues of Virgin Mary and other biblical figures. Candles flickered and the silence echoed throughout, overall there was a peaceful solidarity, despite the presence of multiple prayers.

We climbed up the tower to get a better view of the city and observe the church interior from above. Like most cities in South America, Quito is littered with rows of uneven houses and beyond them displays mountains and active volcanoes. A city surrounded by beautiful scenes of nature, it was in fact rather picturesque.

Climbing all those stairs we had worked up an appetite, and headed to Vista Hermano’s as suggested by lonely planet for it’s tasty food and rooftop balcony with a 360 panoramic view of Quito. Getting to the rooftop was an adventure alone, as we both experienced for the first time the use of an old fashioned lift. Controlled by the bellhop, who drew back the metal gate to reveal a red carpeted, gold buttoned lift complete with a lever. Hayley, a great lover of period dramas, relished this moment, feeling like she was part of ITV’s new Mr Selfridge series, which she is regrettably unable to watch in Ecuador.

We were seated by the waiter, distracted by the views but our attention was soon swayed with the presentation of the Menu. Everything was appealing but we were both drawn to the Lamb dish-if you do visit we would strongly advise you to chose alike. The portion was generous, plenty of meat and flavoursome. Grey clouds were appearing and we wanted to see a few more sights before it began to rain. Post lunch we headed to the Grand Plaza to observe more historical buildings and take some token photos, before swiftly moving to San Francisco Plaza. The grey clouds were caving in on us, suffocating the sun and abolishing the blue skies. It was obvious rain was nearby as we saw lightening dance in the distance, followed by a bellowing clash of thunder which echoed through the city, causing thousands of pigeons to flee the square simultaneously. Those who know Jonny will understand how traumatic this was-he is not a fan of birds. As we set off towards the bus stop the heavens opened and large drops of rain hammered down, stinging our legs and blurring our vision as we ran towards a shelter. The next hour involved running through the poorly drained streets with their ever rising floods as water pelted down onto us. We hopped from shelter to shelter, hoping to get just a fraction closer to the bus stop. It finally calmed to a Mancunian dribble, which we are both used to so took the opportunity to chase the bus.

Two drowned rats slightly resembling us arrived back in the new town. Our feet squelched in our trainers as we walked, now in search of a Barber’s for Jonny. Spanish hip hop blasted out of a hairdressers, and Jonny was summoned in by a Guy sporting a red afro mohican. Jonny explained as best as he could in his very limited Spanish, then left the fate of his hair in the razor of the Guy’s hand. Meanwhile Hayley was fascinated watching a woman give a black girl a weave. For a white girl with white hair and not much of it, this is like another dimension, a mysterious act of hairdressing which she never thought she would see, and was absolutely transfixed by it. It is probably a fair statement that considering the language barrier the Guy most likely thought he had done what Jonny requested. Although on the contrary he had removed much more of his hair than anticipated or desired. Hayley left the hairdressers thrilled that her caucasian self now understood and had witnessed how black girls get weaves. On the other hand, Jonny left disappointed and with a cold head.

We weren’t particularly hungry considering our large lunch, after wandering around aimlessly with nothing calling out to us, we headed to the supermarket for some sugary snacks and headed back to FaceTime some friends, before hitting the sack. It had been a long day and tomorrow we had a 6am alarm set for a day trip to Quilotoa.

Read our next post to hear about indigenous food markets, the disturbing scenes observed at the animal markets and how we lost our breath trekking…

Jonny & Hayley 🙂