Who called the cops?

It’s our last day in Ecuador, and as such, the last day of this vacation.  Cas and I just woke up from a nap- kind of a necessary thing, given the plans for the next several hours of our lives.  It’s creeping up on 6pm as I write, and at 8, we need our packed bags ready.  The tour company has arranged for an 8pm check out which is something I have never heard of before this trip.  Latest late checkout ever.  At 8:15, we meet the tour director in the lobby, and he takes us (along with the other four people flying into Houston) to the airport.  There, we check in, clear whatever hurdles we need to clear and hop on a flight at 12:40am to Houston.  There, we land at something like 6am, and there we stay until we hop back on a flight at 9:30, and we’re in our house before Sunday lunchtime.  Crazy, no?  It must be the best way to do it.  I have learned to not ask a lot of questions in Quito,  I just assume that everything is being done to keep us as safe as possible.  

Case in point: Our police escort was back in motorcycle-revving action today, escorting us around.  I’m sure they were there when we went to the Pichincha Volcano first thing this morning.  They were definitely standing around the local market we visited after that, and they rode alongside our walking group as we marched from a bus to an entry point for the botanical gardens.  The words don’t match the actions.  We’re reassured that we’re safe, then we have police ride along as we walk.  It’s hardly soothing.  

Regardless, we leave soon, and hopefully, return to the usual level of police presence in our daily lives.

The trip to the Pichincha Volcano was very cool, though.  We took a cable-driven gondola to the top of the thing, lifting us up to over 13,000 feet above sea level.  From there, we walked around- and up- to 13,140 feet.  There were a pair of playground- style swings way up there, and we gave it a little go.  Usually, Cas and I find playground swing sets and go a while before leaping off forward into a kid-style run.  This time, we decided not to run that kind of risk.  There was only so much space in front of the things before the descent would begin, whether you wanted to or not.  

Leaving there, we were pretty dirty.  Cas shot a little sunblock at the tops of our feet in our walking sandals, and I am pretty sure that sunscreen helped more dirt stick to our feet.  When we left there, I needed to clean my feet for sure.  We almost didn’t have time, but I ducked out really quickly to the hotel room and grabbed my travel pack of baby wipes while everyone refilled their water bottles.  I don’t think I could have continued the day the way I was.  

With newly clean (ish) feet, we went to a local market and saw how the folks on Quito bought vegatables and meats while hustling through a fast-paced food court.  It was weird- we were there around lunchtime, but we were advised not to eat anything for fear that some of the local food preparation may not agree with our stomachs.  You don’t really have to tell me that sort of thing twice, but it does seem cruel to take me past food vendors and folks selling fresh fruit when I can enjoy none of it.  We stood there, waiting to move to the next destination under the close watch of our personal police escorts, who, I assume, could eat whatever they wanted.

The botanical garden was nice, but we spent a pretty long time at the beginning of our visit talking about the temperate regions and political motivations for different environmental restrictions in Ecuador.  I would have loved to spend that 30 minutes looking at flowers, but different strokes for different folks, right?  Regardless, we did finally get moving and we saw some beautiful things.  

And that was all she wrote.  We got back to the hotel, waved at the cops and split from the group for a large, belated lunch.  Now, it’s packing time.  Oh, and it’s our anniversary.  We are not exactly proceeding with the usual level of anniversary romance.  We took a nap, grabbed a shower and are busy shoving dirty clothes into a pair of wheeled bags.  I feel like we should at least be doing that last bit by candle light.  Alas, no.  And tomorrow, when we’re home, I think all I will really want will be a cheeseburger, so maybe the big anniversary dinner can hold off until the next day.  

For now, though, we pack and prepare.  See you back in the US.  Of course, here, again is Our Photo Album.