Galapagos Arrival

Thank COPU (that's Central Operating Principle of the Universe, for those in the know) for the kindness of strangers. First, I got the same cab driver as on the way in--a nice fellow, and above all, a helluva driver who got me to the airport on time in spite of morning traffic and lumbering buses that had all the speed of brontosauri at an herbal lunch counter. Then the fun really began...
 

Baltra airport

Ecuador has an elaborate system for just about everything, including getting foreigners from Quito to Baltra in the Galapagos, coupled with a near-total lack of information in English and among the airport personnel. I wandered around and around the small national airport, asking this person and that, getting different answers--often because of the language barrier and my nearly absent espanol. I ended up in the quite long TAME airline queue. Fortunately, a young man came to the line at the same time, and he spoke excellent English, thanks to six months in Chicago (I think every American that travels beyond US borders has thought, "why does everyone else in the world speak at least two languages except us?"). He went up to the front of the line with my info sheet and got the lowdown. I was to go to an unmarked door inside the terminal nearby. They then directed me to go outside. I immediately went to the wrong door, and was directed to another outside door. Finally, that was the right one! After that, back to inside door number 1, paid my $10, and was sent back to the TAME airline line, where my gallant young friend had held a place for me. Then he was delayed at the gate for some reason, a cell phone to his ear and a worried look on his face. I hope it turned out all right for him.

A sign at the Baltra airport

In the terminal, the flight was late, and TAME personnel kept disappearing. I ended up talking to an Israeli doctor, a woman who was also traveling alone, and together we managed to figure out which gate the flight was leaving from. She came enroute from Spain, couldn't land in Quito because of the torrential rains last night (the weather in Quito can manifest all four seasons in a day). Her flight ended up going to Quayaquil on the coast, enduring a six-hour layover, then flying into Quito; here she was, wandering around the same waiting room as me. The joys of travel; it's a way to test yourself, that's for sure.

Interesting note about the money: Ecuador uses American dollars as their currency; for change, they give you Sacajawea dollars, which I haven't seen in the US in years. They're highly valued here. Fun fact: Ecuador is named for the equator, which evenly divides the country and the city of Quito. 

The intense blue tint is from the blue shades on the dock

Reps from the yate Fragata picked us up at the airport in Baltra--I thought Baltra was a town, but it's a military installation. All together, we are three young couples, three older couples, a young single girl, and yours truly--an international assortment, from Holland, Switzerland, Canada, French Canada, and America. A jolting bus ride from the military installation brought us to the boat. Before we boarded, we got a taste of what the Galapagos is famous for--a sleeping marine iguana kept guard outside the boat launch and a sassy sea lion posed magnificently for pictures on a bench.

When I say the descriptive "first class", what comes to mind? Chilled cocktails on the foredeck? An abundance of hot water any time the urge strikes to shower? This is not Fragata, a slightly careworn boat whose last refitting was a decade past. Not that the crew doesn't try--they definitely make up for the faded brightwork. Yacht life isn't quite what I expected--for one thing, the simple act of taking a pee is not at all simple. No paper can enter the sewage that is flushed into the open sea in the Galapagos--that means, wipe (or more realistically, dab) and dispose of the paper in a container next to the toilet. Poop? We won't even go there. I'm sure I wasn't the only person who did a little toilet diving the first day…

The boat took us to Sombrero Chino, a small island south of Is. Santiago, where we went for our first snorkel--the water sparkled with schools of silvery anchovies, and the reefs were populated with all manner of colorful fish: pastel pink and yellow parrotfish, yellow-tailed wrasses, a cobalt blue sea star and much more (the Galapagos video is ready! Check it out:  vimeo.com/joanneorionmiller). It was an excellent dive followed by a short walk among a few sea lions with adorable pups. The sun disappeared into a neon sunset. A few of us gathered on the Fragata's sun deck to watch the last of the golden light darken to shades of gray-blue.

 

Ecuadorian Cuisine …

The Plaza across from Palacio Arzobispal

The courtyard of Palacio Arzobispal

…is an oxymoron. No, that's not entirely fair. The pineapple is ambrosial (native to South America) and the assortment of exotic fruits and juices is divine. Restaurant diners, however, are subject to the Ecuadorian triumvirate: potatoes, corn and (fried) meat. I was in the mood for good old chicken soup, and I enjoyed a fine bowl at a little place called "Juan Fogonero" in the shopping center (really a building divided into shops, called Palacio Arzobizpal) on the corner of Avs. Chile and Venezuela in old town Quito. They take credit cards! Very pretty inside, with a genuinely helpful staff. 


I wandered about town for a while and rain suddenly started to fall in torrents. Along with the townspeople, I pressed myself up against a wall and hoped for the best--and it did get better, or at least wetter. I intended to try some place other than the Palacio Arzobispal for dinner, but it was close, covered, and dry. I went to another restaurant on the third floor, "Hasta la vuelta, Senor"--the paper placemat told a long and involved story (in Spanish) explaining the name, all of which was lost on me. Meanwhile, the rain thundered on the courtyard roof, and a small dove begged for crumbs a few feet away. The restaurant promised authentic Ecuadorian food, and once again, I ordered chicken soup--it couldn't have been more different from my first bowl. This soup also contained real chicken broth, but instead of small pieces of chicken and veges, there was one chicken leg and a potato cut into large pieces. It was topped with a dill-like herb I had seen people selling on the street; it was different, and also good. I ordered an appetizer that turned out to be a deep-fried dough ball stuffed with potatoes and cheese that required a hammer and chisel to open; not particularly tasty, but the small masa corn tamale (all corn, no filling) was delicious with the local beer.
On the way out, on Av. Venezuela, I stopped by an excellent little bakery and bought fresh baked goods--a sweet bread and what looked like a danish--for breakfast. The fruit, the beer, the baked goods--Quito has those down!

Old Town Quito

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.

I couldn't find the restaurant I was looking for on Av. Junin, but with the aid of an army officer (there are quite a few of them about, as well as policia--the entire area is highly militarized), I found the Inglesia de Compania, recommended to me by friends in Cuenca, a town two hours by plane to the south. The exterior is ornately carved volcanic stone, but it hardly prepares you for the inside. I've always associated the Catholic Jesuits with a certain level of modesty, a theory blown to hell by this structure built between 1605 and 1745. Let's start with the obvious--there are roughly 114 pounds (50-52  kilos) of gold leaf covering nearly every vertical surface, all carved into a mass of phantasmagorical fruits, flowers, figures and curvaceous columns. Unwilling to stop with the walls, the artists covered the football-sized curved ceiling with yet more carvings and gold. You get the feeling that if you sat long enough inside, you'd absorb some of that richness. The sides of the church are lined with ornate altars dedicated to various saints including the local gal, St. Mariana. Overhead, a series of small round dome windows let in light; above the nave, in front of the impressively carved altar, a single large dome painted with saints floating in a heavenly blue background lights the front section of the church. This church is both impressive and inspiring; St. Peter's has nothing on this as a paean to the dedicated strength of faith of the many hands that created this magnificent structure.
 
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.

I'm on my Way/Galapagos

 

This morning I fly from San Francisco to Houston, then Houston to Quito, Ecuador. My anxiety level was such last night that I woke up with a stomachache at 1:30AM, managed to doze until 2:30, then gave up and got up. The airporter didn't leave until 4:30AM, so I dealt with a cranky cat and assorted compulsive actions, like reboiling my eggs because I left them out (I ended up eating one and throwing the other away in the Houston airport. I just couldn't face another egg.). One real gift--and I recognized this with enormous gratitude as the universe watching out for me since I did ask for help--I remembered that the second half of my flight itinerary had a little "check in" button after it, and I had only checked into the first half, to Houston. I got up, turned on the computer (all the while accompanied by Ozzie's yowling over my strange behavior) and took another look. I got the confirm number and went to check it against the one I already had, only to discover that my passport was nowhere in my bag. I had laid it on top of the cabinet when I repacked, and I might have left it altogether. Disaster!

The first flight from SFO started out in the dark at 6:45 and I tried to sleep through the bad stomach with little luck. The gasses in the body expand with the canned air pressure in the cabin, and apparently I had plenty to expand; ginger ale helped. 






When I looked out the window, the dawn formed a thin red line on the horizon in front of us. The ground below was perfectly clear, a study in Chiarascuro; white snow and black trees, stitched together by a few thin roads. The wrinkled terrain looked like carelessly dropped velvet. 


That broadened into something extraordinary--a series of mountains and deep canyons, and a river so wide in places it was a tin foil-bright lake.
Considering we were 30,000 feet up, those were some mountains! It was exquisite in the sharp light of dawn. I took some shots out the plane window, though I doubt the pix will do justice. After a while, arrow-straight roads began to appear, so long and thin, you could have darned a giant's socks with them. Then further signs of human taming of the landscape...neat squares and circles connected by lines. I wonder what that wonder was:-)


***
During a very dull 4-hour layover in Houston, I met a friendly, studious-looking guy while waiting for the Quito flight. An Ecuadorian, a university teacher...he wanted to show me around, but he's working the only day I'll be in town. Hard to determine whether he was just friendly or hitting on me. Most likely the former. He wanted to give me his phone number--I had to let him know my phone doesn't work outside the US, much to my disgruntlement (It's one of the reasons I bought an iPhone, but only iPhone4 and above can take international SIM cards). We chatted about the recent election; he said most Ecuadorians like President Rafael Correa, but few know that he's shutting down a number of colleges in the country, and eliminating career tracks. I didn't know that education, even higher education, is free in Ecuador, at least for now. A recent article on RT asks, "Is Ecuador America's new enemy number one?"


***
We've begun our descent into Quito. It's a four-hour time difference (all together, counting the 2-hour difference in Houston). I've been in the air a total of 10 hours, plus a 4-hour layover. However, I made every flight. Another part of my adventure begins. I'm looking forward to seeing southern stars--another first.

Well, that's settled.

The Fragata, looking its best

I've found it pays to ask if there are deals. I found a very good price on a five-day/four-night trip aboard a first class yacht, the Fragata. The price came from a site called "Galapagos Last Minute". I ended up paying about $1600 for the cruise, including all meals and flights from Quito to Baltra and back ($250--muchas gracias, Rodrigo!). I considered a less expensive boat from the same company (tierraverde tours)--the Golondrina--but I read reviews and it appeared to be smaller and more rickety; I was concerned about seasickness and personal space, as I'll probably have to share a cabin. Fortunately, they offered me the deal, and I took it. As for a hotel, I found a place called Boutique Hotel Plaza Sucre in old town Quito for a very good price (half of the hotel's website price, so I paid $50/night instead of $100) on Booking.com. I have no idea what I'm getting into; everything looks good on the internet. I was so nervous about sending a bunch of money via wire to a company I didn't know that I paid with my credit card instead, which cost me an extra Ben Franklin--but I felt better about it in case I was being conned. It happens. I plan to be in Quito a day ahead of the boat trip, as I can't be sure I'll get my flights.

Prepping for the World: Vaccinations...

I'm not this hairy, honest

I got the shots today: all of them at once, except for typhoid, which is in pill form, and malaria, prevented by liberal use of DEET to ward off mosquitoes. I hate DEET as much as anyone, but weighing the options: permanent liver damage or two weeks of nasty chemicals--no contest. And blast, I forgot to get the yellow book--the record of my vaccinations. I should have some sort of souvenir other than two sore arms. Today, in one arm, I got measles/mumps/rubella and dyphtheria/pertussis/--and what's that other one when you step on a nail? I recall a family trip to the Sacramento river--there's a picture of my father taking a picture of us taking a picture of him with his old boxy camera. While I was climbing around the driftwood on the river's edge, I stepped on a spike. Went clean through my tennis shoe and into the center of my foot. That necessitated a trip to the doctor for one of those famous "T" shots. Oh yes, tetanus. Only good for ten years, unfortunately, and I'm well beyond that; I suspect I could still find a nail in a driftwood stack without too much trouble--I'm talented that way. In the other arm--the right one, I got polio (a booster) and hepatitis A & B, a nod to unsafe drinking water and companions everywhere. Am I being overly cautious? Possibly. The big thrill was I was able to talk the doctor's office into giving me the shots without a "nurse consult" by officiously informing them that all the shots were required by the State Department for my upcoming travels. It's the truth of course, at least according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention website, which is an excellent source of information on the travails and ailments of every country on the globe. Emailing the list of necessary shots to the office ahead of time was a very smart idea--I recommend it to everyone. So now my arms are festooned with band-aids, and I'm prepared for the wild. Germs and viruses, anyway. The rest will remain to be seen.

Prepping for the World: How it's Done

Now I'll try to get something going about my first trip: to the Galapagos Islands, 600 miles off the coast of Ecuador. Still researching the best cruises--damned pricey (it will be at least $2500), but this IS the opportunity of a lifetime, and now is no time to stint.  My friend Geri, a former flight attendant for a major airlines, retired and is able to gift a couple of "Golden Tickets" (passes to fly anywhere in the world on stand-by) every year. I'm the lucky recipient of one ticket for 2013. There are different classes of stand-by, and as a friend, I'm in the lowest category. But being able to fly around the world for free? Booyah!
Ecuador controls entry to the Galapagos pretty carefully (it's $100 just to set foot on one of the islands). Though it's possible to visit the islands in the archipelago on your own, a pre-booked boat trip saves a lot of haggling, especially if your Espanol is as lame as mine; the alternative is to fly from Quito (the mainland capital) to one of the two airports on the islands and take day cruises from one of the two main towns (Puerto Ayora is the most accessible). I want to go further out to the western islands, and that requires more time on the water.
I have to fly to Quito first, and Quito--a World Heritage Site--has a very bad reputation, at least according to the State Department. I picked up some pepper spray, though I don't know if I can get it through security.

It's Happening!

 I'm traveling around the world!...and I'm alternating between elation (this is so great! My bucket list, realized!) and terror (holy cow! Will I be safe? Which country requires a visa? Where will I stay?). Through the auspices of my good friend Geri, I'll have access to any and all standby flights on a major airline next year (meaning I may or may not get on the flight, in which case I will perfect the art of sleeping upright in a busy airport). I've already set up an itinerary that may kill me; I'm planning on traveling 10 days a month, with 20 days in between for appreciation, relaxation and planning for my next destination. On the calendar so far: Galapagos in January, Delhi and the Golden Triangle of India in February, and Stockholm and Jukkasjarvi Sweden in March (I'm Ukrainian, I can take cold weather). Only one visa is necessary--for India--the others only require a passport for a trip less than 90 days, plus some sort of proof that you don't intend to become a panhandler in Quito or Stockholm.

I discovered to my horror that my passport expired last month. The US Passport Office makes no promises about when your new passport will make it back to your house, so I paid the extra $100 (including rush postage to and from) to guarantee peace of mind. Money definitely talks: it was here in a little over two weeks. Next, I have to figure out how to get from Quito to the Galapagos Islands, what's the best tour boat to take, and by the way, where the heck am I going to stay?