Baños Means Bath not Toilet

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.