The Hotel
Plaza Sucre manifests that entirely overused descriptive: charming. It's
bright, quiet, clean, and filled with boldly colored paintings and sculpture.
The best rooms are probably 201, 303--pretty much any room that looks over the
interior library area--mainly because latecomers (there are plenty of those due
to the late flights into town) have to ring the loud buzzer to get in. Walls
are a bit thin, but these are really quibbles in an overall pleasant stay. The
location in old town is right in the middle of everything.
The top-floor restaurant where breakfast is served looks out over the rooftops toward the winged Madonna that guards the city. The Madonna, which is visible from most parts of Quito was commissioned in 1976 by a religious order; Spanish artist Agustín de la Herrán Matorras built a 150-foot-tall (45 metres) monument made of seven thousand pieces of aluminum. The Madonna may be the only one in the world with wings: it was inspired by the famous "Virgen de Quito" (Quito's Madonna) also known as "the dancer" sculpted in 1734, which now decorates the main altar at the nearby Church of St. Francis.
Ceiling detail from Inglesia de San Francisco, another of Quito's many churches |
As
deserted as the streets were at 11:30PM last night, today they are teeming with
people, mostly locals. I stand out like a salt shaker in the middle of a plate
filled with ground chili pepper--I'm that much taller. Also, next time I'll
bring a skirt that covers my knees--I keep getting the "puta look"
from women, the somewhat sour face that's the visual equivalent of "American
tart". Here in old town, each building's street floor holds a dozen tiny
businesses, selling everything from fruit to toys, pinatas to clothing.
There are many hawkers wandering the streets--I take these to be country people from their style of dress and method of carrying goods, sometimes wrapped in shawls, or in buckets or plastic bags.
Finding
one's way around requires an infallible sense of direction and sturdy shoes--I
only have one of those two requirements, and spent considerable time walking in
circles.
Later this evening, I went out for a walk to parts I hadn't been to, and my unerring travelwriter instincts led me to what could only be described as a favela--a real shantytown with dirt streets. It didn't look like a good place for little old sweet me (read "target") to hang around, and I didn't think I needed any cd's or computer equipment--which the street businesses were selling at greatly reduced prices--so I turned around and walked back on the "street of schmatas", shops filled with ornate formal wear and other items of South American fashion.
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