A lesson in when not to cheer..........Sitting in the main plaza of Gringolandia in Quito seemed a fine idea to watch the Ireland Ecuador game. I was sat next to Vinny from real Glasnevin and as happens when two Irish guys meet the beer was flowing. The plaza thronged with locals, free from work due to a long weekend. El Presidente himself lurched around, enveloped by at least 100 security personnel. The game flew by. Ecuador scored first and the locals clapped politely, almost as if they expected it. I did not mind, too used to a bad Irish team. Suddenly, Doyler headed in a beauty. Infused with alcohol and aided by a vocal Vinny we jumped and celebrated the goal. The square turned deathly silent. Something fell at my feet, something hit my shoulder, a wetness seeped ontp my skin. We were being hammered by chips and other unwanted foodstuff. It didn´t matter, we couldn't stop. But did when a half pound of meat was thrown in our direction........
.........Baños or toilet in Spanish (it also means bath) is trapped in a small valley somewhere in Ecuador. (This is no tourist site). Huge mountains lurch around this quaint little town in a sinister fashion. Waterfalls cascade down cliffs into a river, skirting the town. But something dark lies in the hills,(2600 metres ain´t no hill). This is an account of a hike in the hills......
The footpath climbs steeply from the edge of town. It 's not long until I´m panting like a dog in heat. I struggle (I can´t emphasise this enough) to the first look out. Baños looks small. Three German hikers laugh at me and skip off. A local man jogs past me with the agility of a mountain goat. I continue. The path steepens. A cheerful girl bounces down, smiles and speaks sweetly in Spanish. I can´t hear her. My ears are full of sweat and they need to be popped. I reach a second lookout. More Germans. These are different. Angrier. They puff and wander off. Baños looks tiny. I crawl up the trail which has now become a natural ladder. A young boy carrying bricks passes me and smiles.(I want to rip his face off) Again I stop. I can see the cross which is my destination. It seems close. It is not. More Germans. They speak amongst themselves and leave me. I push on. I can smell food being cooked and music playing. I think I´m delirious. I reach the top. Baños is tinier. There is a hostel and cafe on top. I swear as I see people being dropped off by taxi. I swear again. The original Germans offer me water and pity. I refuse, they leave. I leave. Not down but up, because I am stupid. I cry up a thin trail. A river runs through it. It cools me down. I sit in it. A German passes me. I struggle up to the top. The volcano I want to see has cloud cover. I turn and see Baños is a speck. I swear and cry a little. It´s all downhill from here. I meet more Germans on the way down. I think I can beat them. Irish men are good at going down. A cow gets in my way, I push it towards a cliff, an old Indian man strolls past me going up, I am sweating more than him and he carries a huge bag. _I move on. Alright horse, he ignores me. I slip, slide and roll to the bottom. I look around no Germans. I jump and cheer, and schoolkids throw food at me....
...the people you meet while travelling #68
Carlos, a yoga instructor from Florida. His hair is long tied in a pony tail. His clothes fit loosely so as not to impede his spirit. He performs yoga, which he insists is an excellent hangover cure. He has a calm voice which he uses to talk(chat-up) young female travellers. He is 50 and travelling with his son. Think Tim Robbins character in High Fidelity.
Thats it I´m done.
Monday 28 May 2007
Wednesday 23 May 2007
Dodgy clubs and the Ecuadorian SSIA
9 am SATURDAY........rose in a cold sweat. The match was about to start and I had to meet up with a group of people to watch it. Dragging my body, which has become a cheap place for fleas to eat out of bed I wobbled out of the basement I´m staying in. In the hallway of the hostel a number of red eyed zombies waited for me. We wobbled out the door in search of a bar to watch a match. It was going to be difficult. It became obvious that this town sleeps in on Saturdays and only an internet cafe was open. So after a light jog through empty streets searching for a big screen we resolved the internet cafe was best. So did every other football supporter. The waiter did not. He was alone and wore a stunned expression as more and more crammed into his little cafe. He sweated profusely and resorted to ignoring peoples requests for beer and more beer. He was as indifferent as the game itself..........
9pm Saturday.........After the fleas had finished their 3 course meal on my belly I gathered up a group of people to go out with. An eclectic bunch, we wandered to the nearest bar for some beer. It`s name, Strawberry Fields and it`s decor was one of romantic Liverpool. All the cocktails were Beatles songs. But not one song was theirs. I sucked on an Eleanor Rigby and listened to the Doors again and again, joining the locals in a sparkling rendition of Light My Fire. After downing a Yellow Submarine we fled to a club which reminded me of a school disco. Young bodies lay be-straggled across tables and a heavy scent of vomit pressed out from the toilets. The place had an air of decadence. Random greasy haired lads were dragged from the dance-floor by irate barmen and thrown(literally) onto the street. Salsa mixed with raggaton raped my ears. When the beer ran out it was time to leave, to search, to find.
And we did. A club with no name, just a symbol. A club formerly known as.... It was airy, had no prostrate teenagers and no lingering sick smell. It played reggae and we wobbled and wooed to the music. Only going home when a bouncer produced his gun and told us to leave.........
........A short lesson in Ecuadorian Finance. An accountant by the name of Jose Cabrera came up with an in-genius savings scheme. The jist of which was invest a sum of money and earn 10% interest a month on your investment. Thats a month people. So the locals not being ones to miss out invested in vast sums and where happy to see their high interests returned. So much so they re-invested. These people included the army, the police, the government and the general people. The only problem was he was running a money laundering scam for a drug lord. The problem was, he died. When a 71-year-old man has a heart attack after allegedly smoking cocaine-laced cigarettes, drinking whisky and popping Viagra in the company of his 18-year-old girlfriend, it's pretty suspect. Jessica Valles, Cabrera's girlfriend of two years, which made her 16 when their relationship started, told police he collapsed in their luxury hotel room after ingesting cocaine, whisky and Viagra. Angry investors dug up his body after hearing of the Pyramid schemes collapse and made sure he was dead, then tore it apart. Check out this link for the full crazy article. http://www.theage.com.au/news/world/a-scandalous-death-rattles-ecuador/2005/12/30/1135732703361.html
.......beating Americans is fun, beating cocky Yanks is even better, which made me winning a pub quiz with a small team over a bunch of loud arrogant yanks beautiful.
Pat Rafter
Unlucky the Pool
9pm Saturday.........After the fleas had finished their 3 course meal on my belly I gathered up a group of people to go out with. An eclectic bunch, we wandered to the nearest bar for some beer. It`s name, Strawberry Fields and it`s decor was one of romantic Liverpool. All the cocktails were Beatles songs. But not one song was theirs. I sucked on an Eleanor Rigby and listened to the Doors again and again, joining the locals in a sparkling rendition of Light My Fire. After downing a Yellow Submarine we fled to a club which reminded me of a school disco. Young bodies lay be-straggled across tables and a heavy scent of vomit pressed out from the toilets. The place had an air of decadence. Random greasy haired lads were dragged from the dance-floor by irate barmen and thrown(literally) onto the street. Salsa mixed with raggaton raped my ears. When the beer ran out it was time to leave, to search, to find.
And we did. A club with no name, just a symbol. A club formerly known as.... It was airy, had no prostrate teenagers and no lingering sick smell. It played reggae and we wobbled and wooed to the music. Only going home when a bouncer produced his gun and told us to leave.........
........A short lesson in Ecuadorian Finance. An accountant by the name of Jose Cabrera came up with an in-genius savings scheme. The jist of which was invest a sum of money and earn 10% interest a month on your investment. Thats a month people. So the locals not being ones to miss out invested in vast sums and where happy to see their high interests returned. So much so they re-invested. These people included the army, the police, the government and the general people. The only problem was he was running a money laundering scam for a drug lord. The problem was, he died. When a 71-year-old man has a heart attack after allegedly smoking cocaine-laced cigarettes, drinking whisky and popping Viagra in the company of his 18-year-old girlfriend, it's pretty suspect. Jessica Valles, Cabrera's girlfriend of two years, which made her 16 when their relationship started, told police he collapsed in their luxury hotel room after ingesting cocaine, whisky and Viagra. Angry investors dug up his body after hearing of the Pyramid schemes collapse and made sure he was dead, then tore it apart. Check out this link for the full crazy article. http://www.theage.com.au/news/world/a-scandalous-death-rattles-ecuador/2005/12/30/1135732703361.html
.......beating Americans is fun, beating cocky Yanks is even better, which made me winning a pub quiz with a small team over a bunch of loud arrogant yanks beautiful.
Pat Rafter
Unlucky the Pool
Thursday 17 May 2007
I'm no Gringo
..........The use of the word gringo here is derogatory. It is an insult which I have become accustumed to and enjoy. Although there is a problem. The origin of the word gringo is quite simple. It stems from when the power hungry States invaded Mexico for not oil but water. The colour of their uniforms were green and Mexicans coined the phrase Green Go which developed into Gringo. Which unfortunately means I have to correct anyone who calls me a Gringo. Who says this blog is´nt educational?......
.........Police populate every corner of this city, especially around the two main tourist districts, Old Town and Mariscal. Clad in knee high Nazi boots and various coloured uniforms they seek out and punish offenders on the spot. And it is implemented instantly. A young kid was pinned against the wall of a KFC. Four police officers in SWAT gear took great joy in ramming his head intermittenly against the wall. They did not question him and grew irritable at any noise he made. I don't know what he did but there was a small stall holder pointing his finger accusingly at him. The punishment handed out by them certainly seemed harsh if, as I suspect he only nicked a packet of smokes. And as I sit here I am watching a stocky police man in black clothes randomly kick a homeless man with 4 army officers looking on vacantly. Latin American justice......
....The church of San Francisco in Quito has a dark secret. The divil himself helped build the thing. A local man, whose name I can´t remember, but will call him Juan needed help completing the church for a big festival. Work was going slowly until the divil showed up and offered to have it completed by the appropriate day. Juan accepted and the church was completed but slowly his soul seeped away until he assumed a crazed look about the eyes. Even today people don´t frequent the church because of the curse of Juan. .......
Thats it kids, more in a few days, when I will still be here because of another Spanish course.
Adios
.........Police populate every corner of this city, especially around the two main tourist districts, Old Town and Mariscal. Clad in knee high Nazi boots and various coloured uniforms they seek out and punish offenders on the spot. And it is implemented instantly. A young kid was pinned against the wall of a KFC. Four police officers in SWAT gear took great joy in ramming his head intermittenly against the wall. They did not question him and grew irritable at any noise he made. I don't know what he did but there was a small stall holder pointing his finger accusingly at him. The punishment handed out by them certainly seemed harsh if, as I suspect he only nicked a packet of smokes. And as I sit here I am watching a stocky police man in black clothes randomly kick a homeless man with 4 army officers looking on vacantly. Latin American justice......
....The church of San Francisco in Quito has a dark secret. The divil himself helped build the thing. A local man, whose name I can´t remember, but will call him Juan needed help completing the church for a big festival. Work was going slowly until the divil showed up and offered to have it completed by the appropriate day. Juan accepted and the church was completed but slowly his soul seeped away until he assumed a crazed look about the eyes. Even today people don´t frequent the church because of the curse of Juan. .......
Thats it kids, more in a few days, when I will still be here because of another Spanish course.
Adios
Thursday 10 May 2007
Quito in Keitho
......I stared at my boarding pass. It read Elite Access. Some crappy name the airline has come up with for coach. But no, I boarded and I was seated in first class next to a couple of Asian business men. I tell you rich folk know how to travel in comfort. I was only on the plane for 90 minutes and got a meal and a fancy beer. Pure luxury.........
........leaving Panama, or US foetus Panama was easy. It´s modern and American. Flying to Quito filled me with a new sense of adventure. Going into the unknown once again, having to meet new people and all that nonsense. This city is immense. It spreads out into green valleys surrounding the old and new town. Huge peaks rise all around it with eyecatching landmarks everywhere. Some of which are eyesores. The city is guarded by a statue of Mary which towers above the old town. This part is colonial and colourful. The new town is akin to Temple Bar and Soho. Built for tourists. Thankfully it has cool bars with good music. No more raggaton........
........La Mitad Del Mundo, the middle of the earth, not to be mistaken with Middle Earth is a delightful tourist trap. After an inexpensive trip on surprisingly clean plastic buses we arrived 1 km past our intended target. The Equator. A sweating beast of a driver grunted in the direction we should go. Accompanied by Julian in tattered shorts I made my way back, coming across the real equator, as located by GPS. Which is 240metres away from the monument. A guide brought us around an interesting exhibit. I saw water go straight down a swally hole, I shot poison darts, I was tempted to eat the Equadorian delicacy of Guinea pig. It was entertaining. But I still had a mission to go into the fake Equator site as dictated by a Frenchman. (Incidently from his calculations the metric system came into being.) Along a dusty building site (th entire town is one big dusty site with breeze blocks guiding the way) we came across a science museum. The friendly scientist gave us a talk and informed us the native Mayans had exactly marked the point of the Equator 1000years previously. They built a fort on top of a mountain to prove it. Yet this is not the discovery that is celebrated. They had built their monument and they needed the revenue so a tacky museum accompanies you as you descend stairs and come out dodging cameras as people get photos taken with legs in both hemispheres. It was tacky, but it needed to be done.
Not really entertaining I know, but it´s info none the less, fecking ingrates.
Check out Fr Trendy.
What do you think of the delicious pun in the title?
........leaving Panama, or US foetus Panama was easy. It´s modern and American. Flying to Quito filled me with a new sense of adventure. Going into the unknown once again, having to meet new people and all that nonsense. This city is immense. It spreads out into green valleys surrounding the old and new town. Huge peaks rise all around it with eyecatching landmarks everywhere. Some of which are eyesores. The city is guarded by a statue of Mary which towers above the old town. This part is colonial and colourful. The new town is akin to Temple Bar and Soho. Built for tourists. Thankfully it has cool bars with good music. No more raggaton........
........La Mitad Del Mundo, the middle of the earth, not to be mistaken with Middle Earth is a delightful tourist trap. After an inexpensive trip on surprisingly clean plastic buses we arrived 1 km past our intended target. The Equator. A sweating beast of a driver grunted in the direction we should go. Accompanied by Julian in tattered shorts I made my way back, coming across the real equator, as located by GPS. Which is 240metres away from the monument. A guide brought us around an interesting exhibit. I saw water go straight down a swally hole, I shot poison darts, I was tempted to eat the Equadorian delicacy of Guinea pig. It was entertaining. But I still had a mission to go into the fake Equator site as dictated by a Frenchman. (Incidently from his calculations the metric system came into being.) Along a dusty building site (th entire town is one big dusty site with breeze blocks guiding the way) we came across a science museum. The friendly scientist gave us a talk and informed us the native Mayans had exactly marked the point of the Equator 1000years previously. They built a fort on top of a mountain to prove it. Yet this is not the discovery that is celebrated. They had built their monument and they needed the revenue so a tacky museum accompanies you as you descend stairs and come out dodging cameras as people get photos taken with legs in both hemispheres. It was tacky, but it needed to be done.
Not really entertaining I know, but it´s info none the less, fecking ingrates.
Check out Fr Trendy.
What do you think of the delicious pun in the title?
Sunday 6 May 2007
PANAMA´s locked
.....Bocas del Toro´s fire station rang to the sound of one banana, two banana three banana, 4 as locals sucked on beers at a Blue Moon party. Men wobbled up to the keyboard king swaying into stumbles, arms held aloft gently, wobbling on one leg before turning thumbs up towards their friends. I had arrived at the beginning of low season and the locals were getting absolutely destroyed. Further down the street a big truck played RAGGATON (jasper and ciaran, if you two guys know this music and like it, do not inflict it on anyone else, it´s pure evil) where the children of pissed men were not so innocently rampantly attacking anyone of the opposite sex. I wandered around through the carnage with Trevor and eyed the crowd with amusement and nerves. This was my introduction to Panama, which after 5 other countries looks the same as the rest has the most American influence. Pure sh..........
........Panama City is in stark contrast to the rest of the country. Its skyline stretches upwards in a most American way. It is the most modern of all the cities I´ve been to on this trip. Banks infest the city and the expat community gives it a cosmopolitan feel. It is in short a place awash with money, new buildings are growing at an incredible rate and local yacht clubs are full to the brim of rich folk. Only twenty minutes from here there is poverty but this bubble concels it...
.......the canal, a feat of human engineering is pretty much just a big canal. Its function is simple but it is hardly a tourist attraction unless you are an engineer. I am not. I appreciate its functionality but thats about it. Even so I went along to see this modern wonder and was immensely underwhelmed. There is a small visitors centre with the history of the canal. It was interesting but dull. Other people thought not and took photos of the explanations beneath pictures (now why the f...). But there is one thing about it thats cool. Its got some great locks, not unlike myself.........
LOST IN TRANSLATION
Juan : You know the camp guy at reception.
ME : I don´t think I´´ve met him.
Girl : Well, gay men have more female hormones than male so they could be considered women.
ME : Emmm, no I have not MET him.
Champions Man Utd, granted but what a lesson Milan gave them.
Adios.
........Panama City is in stark contrast to the rest of the country. Its skyline stretches upwards in a most American way. It is the most modern of all the cities I´ve been to on this trip. Banks infest the city and the expat community gives it a cosmopolitan feel. It is in short a place awash with money, new buildings are growing at an incredible rate and local yacht clubs are full to the brim of rich folk. Only twenty minutes from here there is poverty but this bubble concels it...
.......the canal, a feat of human engineering is pretty much just a big canal. Its function is simple but it is hardly a tourist attraction unless you are an engineer. I am not. I appreciate its functionality but thats about it. Even so I went along to see this modern wonder and was immensely underwhelmed. There is a small visitors centre with the history of the canal. It was interesting but dull. Other people thought not and took photos of the explanations beneath pictures (now why the f...). But there is one thing about it thats cool. Its got some great locks, not unlike myself.........
LOST IN TRANSLATION
Juan : You know the camp guy at reception.
ME : I don´t think I´´ve met him.
Girl : Well, gay men have more female hormones than male so they could be considered women.
ME : Emmm, no I have not MET him.
Champions Man Utd, granted but what a lesson Milan gave them.
Adios.
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