1 September 2007
DRIVING THE SIERRA Part 2
Saquisili to Sangolqui near Quito
The nightstop was another tranquillo triumph. It wasn’t until 06.45, that we had any noise at all – and in
We started our market visit at 08.30, and it really wasn’t difficult to find the squares on which the stallholders had settled themselves. During the course of the following 4 hours, we didn’t quite get to everything – the big animal market was quite a way away – but we saw enough to have a very good morning.
The nearest market to our nightstop was the first we visited: the clothing market… not that thrilling except for the colourful wool stalls. What we were to find as the morning progressed was that the idea promulgated by my library informant yesterday – that there were specialised markets – was only very loosely true: there were clothes being sold in other places… and fresh food seemed to be all over the place, as were meals.
The second market was the biggest of the fresh and cooked food locations, and the fresh food was very good. And we weren’t just looking: we needed to stock up. After picking up a few bits, we hit the area where the producers, rather than the greengrocers, were operating. At one stall, we bought two big and gorgeously fresh lettuces (elsewhere, they were selling Icebergs that were impossibly old), two leeks, a small broccoli head and a turnip, all for $1! (The lady wanted to give us change!). This market then concluded with huge blocks of brown sugar (some in a sort of raffia wrapping: MM said it reminded her of the 2ndWW when this was sold in
We went back to the vans for tea and to unload our purchases, and then set out again. Market 3 had yet more fresh fruit and veg but these were complemented by a street of bread vendors at the top of which was a bible-basher on the back of a lorry and beyond him, a small corner where people were selling what looked suspiciously like grass.
Market 4 was a short walk away, along a road where people were selling anything and everything from the pavements or from vans. The market itself had a strong line in live poultry but pigs could also be bought, onions (like giant salad onions or thin leeks: very popular here), and yet more grass.
Finally, market 5. The top end of this was the next best thing to a tourist market, though there were precious few tourists around. Lots of floor coverings, wall hangings, paintings on leather and pressed corn leaves, baskets, decorated gourds… We went a little mad and bought a floor covering for Jenni’s flat and several of the outrageously colourful woven shoulder bags.
Market 5 continued with a line of (male) sewing machinists, yet more fresh and cooked food, baskets, and then a further street of anything and everything.
We were tired by this point and returned to the vans, though I did a small detour to find the knife sharpener to do our kitchen knives, only to find him gone. A pity, that.
Lunch, after which we left to move further north having decided that we could easily make the very famous and touristy Saturday market at Otavalo (north of
It was only 15 minutes or so before we made the PanAmericana north of Latacunga. We were on it for the next 2 hours of more, broken by a >half-hour tea break. The road’s a busy one and on one long stretch, involves a lengthy and demanding hill. The hill has the best stretch of 4-lane road: the rest of the PanAm is rather messy, and includes a lot of simple 2-lane stuff.
At the start, we had a half-reasonable view of Volcan Cotopaxi to our right and very close, but after 5 minutes of so, cloud enveloped the whole of the snowy summit. Then beyond the long hill, there were three volcanoes to the right – two Ilinizas (South and North) and El Corazon – none fully visible, but as we swung round Quito to the east, we got terrifically clear views of the snowy and massive Cayambe (5,790m asl) in the far distance.
The eastern ‘by-pass’ road is really just an alternative run northwards, passing through or by a number of fair-sized dormitory towns for
The other problem we have is where to stop. On the road is not an option, and this is a well built-up area. However, although I say it myself, we are now pretty deft at finding somewhere. After 20 minutes or so on the ‘by-pass’, we can see a pleasant estate to our right, and then come to a roundabout that allows us to turn and access it. In fact, we don’t. It’s a gated community, but next to its entrance, there’s a public parking area. It’s actually close to the ‘by-pass’, but sufficiently far away to be acceptable as a nightstop. So with almost no effort, we have a place to stay.
The girls’ teatime starts now, and I go for a walk in search of milk. I find it, and an internet shop to which I return and send off this journal as well as addressing my correspondence. It’s interesting as it includes the info we need from Ana for the March sailing from
When I get back to the van, Margaret’s almost finished making a really tasty meal of Saquisili take-away pork and yummy mash accompanied by broccoli and peas, and followed by some very good strawberries and cream. A definite hit!
Friday 2 March
Sangolqui near Quito to Otavalo
A very odd day, in which we literally moved from Summer to Winter as we drove, and in which we avoided disaster by minutes and by sheer luck.
We set out at 08.30. The drive was largely uninteresting – through the Home Counties of Ecuador, the eastern environs of
So we stopped for a break reasonably early, on a large Texaco fuel station, and then dragged it out with a confab on plans for Manta (the ro-ro, and the complementary flight to Costa Rica) before starting out again down a short hill. At the bottom were two sleeping policemen and as we bumped our way slowly over the second, MM came on the CB: “Stop! Stop! There’s something wrong with your gas tank!!”.
There was indeed. The tank’s cover was tilted down at the front at an alarming angle, and this mirrored the angle of the tank itself. The back of the tank was held by its metal strap, but the one at the front had severed. The result was that the tank can only have been minutes away from sliding forward off the rear strap. Since it is full of liquefied petroleum gas and the main stopcock was not turned off, it is easy to imagine the conflagration that might have occurred. The first result of this episode is that we have reviewed our policy of driving with the gas ‘on’!
Stopped – and with the tank now turned off - we were in no danger, but we could not move to get help. So we took local advice and I joined MM to go back to the Texaco station where we were advised there would be help. We were diverted from this quest as we turned round as there appeared to be no fewer than three mechanical workshops within 50m of us in the non-Texaco direction. But they all turned out to be false leads, and we were soon motoring up the hill.
Opposite the Texaco was the dusty taller of The Man You Need. He was working on a school bus and there were several onlookers. Within a couple of minutes, two of the latter took me downhill in their pick-up to our van, and less than 10 minutes later, the tank’s dangling front section was strung up to the roof rack and I was driving back up to our man at 4kph (= 2.4 mph) with Margaret walking alongside to give a full progress report on any aberrant behaviour on the part of the tank.
But it was well secured, and even survived the serious bump on to the workshop’s compacted dust ‘forecourt’.
Work began immediately and was completed within an hour plus. The old strap was shortened, re-drilled and re-used, but most importantly, a major piece of welding went on above the tank. It appeared that two large bits of the chassis needed to be re-connected, and their disconnection had probably played a big part in the creation of the problem. At $10, the work seemed the bargain of the century, so in untypically generous fashion, I doubled it. Even then, it was ludicrously cheap.
At 12.30, we were done and retired to the fuel station to join MM and her van and to have a first-rate bacon, egg and tomato lunch. A further 90 minutes later, we set out again, very slowly in the initial stages!
It was nearly 15.00 when we reached the Equator and passed, with little difficulty, from Summer into Winter. It’s almost 300 years since French scientists, interested in the shape of our globe, came Equator-hunting to what was then the Real Audiencia of 
LINEA EQUINOCCIAL EQUATOR) to a modest tower.
We take photos and boast that we have now driven across both Tropics and the Equator (and in our case, across the
We arrive in Otavalo at about 16.30. It gives an immediate impression of being a cheery and vital small town. The streets are the usual regular grid with most designated UNA VIA. Margaret unerringly navigates us into the centre and right past the travel agency that is our first target. It is there we will book our air tickets to
They’re a nice bunch at Yuratours, but the reservations take an age (c80 minutes) to complete. However, we do also get useful info about the market (the main reason for being here), a laundry, a key cutter, a good restaurant, banks etc etc. But as it is 18.00 now, we make our next call at a parquedero we’ve spotted on the same, major drag as the agency. It’s a clean and tidy, large area that can accommodate us for $3 per van per night + $0.75 per hour during the day. We go for it, and within 15 minutes are installed.
We’ve already clocked the laundry and will do that tomorrow. After putting our glad rags on, we set out to the key cutter (no luck), the bank (ok), and the restaurant, El Otavalito, which delivers a fine meal for $10 per head all in. The highspot: two excellent pork chops per person in a lovely sauce. Most interesting culinary detail: as in some other restaurants, our veg is cold and appears to have been preserved in a very subtle pickling liquid. The red cabbage, broccoli and cauli are terrifically tasty and ‘cooked’ but crispy.
That was my birthday dinner, and a cracker it was too.
We’re back at the vans soon after 20.00, but ready for a cuppa and a rest, and the earliest bed we can manage.
Saturday 3 March
Otavalo
This was a really pleasant day, with none of the unwanted drama of yesterday.
The morning was pretty well full-on market visiting. By the end of it, Margaret was ready for a major sit-down, and her fatigue rolled over into the afternoon. After starting out at 09.00, we delivered the laundry to a shut shop (you have to bang on the door very insistently to achieve this) before splitting up. MM and Margaret were not interested in the animal market, so I went on my merry way - less than a km out of town but nonetheless over the PanAmericana, to a field - whilst they did the non-animal stuff in the town centre.
The animal market deserves only a cursory mention as it had none of the pzazz I remember from my first visit here in 1995 when I think cuy were in evidence as were poultry, and the market was just a block or two down from the major fabrics etc square. Today, it was pigs and cattle: pretty poor stuff.
The rest of the market deserves much more of a description. It is terrific and FAR more impressive that I expected. It is vast, varied, and, contrary to expectation, remains a real, local market despite its firm standing as a must-see for tourists. and thus the resultant skewing of products, pitch, and price.
The heart of the market is the Plaza de los Ponchos, a large square dominated by fabrics in one shape or form.
However, even it is remarkably varied. For example, the top side is dedicated to non-fabric items such as jewellery, musical instruments etc, and just in from the edge at the lower end is a line of local women selling their home-grown produce. One might have imagined that the latter would have been banned by local bigwigs swayed by the lure of the tourist dollar.
In addition, the Plaza de los Ponchos is only a fraction of the whole. The market occupies innumerable streets radiating off the Plaza. These again contain an amazing range of products – eg jade carvings, headwear, embroidery (so much like Hungarian work that you might think you were there), belts, and feather goods (like headdresses).
Prices are not stupid either. Margaret’s first purchase was a chess set in a box, all beautifully decorated. The price was $9.50. I bought a pair of shoes (nothing special) for $18.
On my way back from the animal market, I also discovered that the southernmost extension of the street stalls is entirely devoted to fresh fruit and veg, and they cluster around the covered market which includes meat. This entire section is almost tourist-free – though one has to say that the overall number of tourists today was exceptionally small. They were substantially outnumbered (50 or 100-1?) by locals.
And that’s good, because the locals are good to look at. The Otvaleños (or rather the Otvaleñas) have a distinctive dress and it is widely adopted and very attractive.
They are also renowned for their entrepreneurial abilities, and this woman can be seen counting the dollars after a successful transaction at the animal market.
At 11.45, in the Ponchos, I met up with MM and Margaret who were as blown away as me with the experience. As they know a thing or two about crafts and fabrics, their judgement on the quality of the goods was interesting: top stuff they reckoned.
We found our way just off the square to a café we’d spotted yesterday, and ate a very good lunch which included carrot soup, a veggie burger and fruit (!), a colossal pot of tea, and delicious glass of blackberry juice. From thence, we extended our shopping expedition to a supermarket and bakery for a very modest list of essentials, and to a camera shop where both MM and I bought new Canon cameras… less modest.
To the van next, collecting the laundry on the way, and for the next hour or two after the necessary decanting of washing and purchases, we enjoyed an hour or two of relaxation.
No peace for the wicked however. An internet session called which, for Margaret and me, focussed on our bank accounts (no apparent problems as a result of the loss, 3 weeks ago, of cards) and today’s English football.
Soon after 17.00, I set about cooking a stew in the van whilst Margaret went prone. Beef, sausage, onion, leek, carrot, turnip, broad beans, potato, chilli, ginger, herbs… 2 hours later it was ready and we retired to MM’s van to eat it. It turned out a great success: a really tasty mix of flavours with a spicy edge. There was enough for 5-6: we ate the lot. MM’s excellent choice of wine from her cellar (!) was a Chilean El Aromo Cab Sauv from the Maule, and she also provided a delicious greengage crumble. A feast fit for kings, and for British pensioners intent on world travel.
Sunday 4 March
Otavalo to Guayllabamba
A late start (09.10) as we slept in after the heavy day of walking yesterday and then readied the vans for today’s action. Our parquedero is much better appointed than most campsites (cf Cabanas Yanuncay, Humberto’s place). It is very, very tidy and flat, has lovely clean toilets, a water tap and two external 110 volt sockets. The lads will wash your van too. We didn’t have the vans done, but for 2 nights and a whole day’s parking bang slap in the city centre, we paid $15 each.
Our route took us out of town to the north, and before we left the urban area, we took a left to start a loop via Selva Alegre to Lago Cotacachi and then back to Otavalo.. The road was beautifully made, for the first 5 or so kms. It then started to deteriorate, and at >20kms out, the on-off tarmac finally turned ‘off’. The unmetalled road – and the unmetalled sections of the road – were awful, pockmarked so badly that bumping and swaying was the norm. We are not ones to give up easily, but at 11.30, we made a difficult 3-point turn to abandon ship. We had not even done half of the circuit, and we had wasted a morning.
We took lunch back near Otavalo, and started out southwards just before 14.00. Our objective now was the Tolas de Cochasqui archaeological site some kms west of the city of
Don’t press me too much about the Tolas de Cochasqui. We were tagged on to a tour in Spanish by a guide who had no English and no interest in making any concessions to those with no Spanish. In addition, there was neither guide book nor any helpful signs. However, the Cochasqui culture operated here from c950AD to 1550AD. The >60ha site is characterised firstly by a terrific location overlooking the massive valley that today houses the PanAmericana and was probably a major trade route 1,000 years ago with views (when the weather allows) towards several of the many volcanoes to the east and south.
Secondly, it houses 15 big to enormous mounds, simple flat-topped pyramids most of which have long, thin triangular ramps, and there are a number of other circular mounds dotted around. At least some of the pyramids were built rather than piled up: we were shown the excavated stepped exterior of one of them, and it comprises quarried blocks of stone.
So far as we could determine, knowledge of the purpose(s) of these constructions is sadly lacking, though the usual suspects were wheeled out – some of them seem to reflect star constellations; there may have been celebrations of the exquinoxes/solstices, and related to that, actions to ensure rain/good harvests… One excavated platform on top of a smaller pyramid looked like a beaten earth floor in which were many holes and several short and narrow channels which could have been graves for very thin people (but weren’t).
Tolas de Cochasqui is the best (the only!) pre-Hispanic indigenous site we have seen in
It was well after 17.00 when we left the site, taking a different, more southerly cobbled route to drop off the hill. We accessed the PanAmericana next to a toll booth then wound our way through a rather tortuous gorge. No chance of a nightstop here.
When we reached the point where our spur of the PanAm met the other (they form an ellipse), we opted not to head for
And so it proved. At 18.00 and a bit, we passed the plaza on the left (too busy) and then turned left up the next road to find a right turn that was flat, very quiet, and (later) well lit. Just the job. 10 minutes later, we walked back to the plaza. In one corner, chickens were being loaded on to a charcoal spit and we went in to order a whole chicken plus chips plus salad for the three of us.
30 minutes later, we had partaken of an excellent meal and were taking home enough cooked meat for three for the following day. At $6.70, that was bargain food as well as being muy rico.
In our van, postre was furnished by MM (fresh pineapple) and tea by the Brooks, and we enjoyed Episode 63 of the Barkers’ South American journal which has also become our staple fare in recent weeks.
Various jobs, and a visit from the policia which led to us turning round for a quick escape should problems occur, and then to bed.
Monday 5 March
Guayllabamba to Quito
I’m not sure how long it took us to get to the Autec garage in northern
The Autec garage seems to have dispensed with its Merc logos in favour of Iveco, Freightliner and even Land-Rover, but it’s still easy to find on the major northerly road into town. We were quickly assessed, but work started much less speedily. Our objectives included getting new batteries and repairing the air conditioning (MM) and new tyres, further repairs to the gas tank housing, and resolving two battery problems (us).
By the end of the day, some things were resolved. MM had 5 new batteries (!) at a cost of around $900 (!!), and our expert assistants could not find any of our tyres in
More on the tank. Yesterday, I noticed that the tank was far from stable despite its repair. I went underneath the van and discovered the cause. The weld (that had been done by our man after the initial problem) had failed. My inspection showed me for the first time the nature of the installation. The straps around the tank connect on to a sort of overhead cradle which in turn is bolted to the vehicle chassis. It was the cradle that had cracked, and it had cracked again. I said nothing to Margaret as I knew she would be overly worried, but did point out the problem to the Autec boys. In consequence, they took off the tank and the cradle and sent the lot off for welding and a third strap.
By evening, it was back but not installed, so our gas supply comes from the tank which is temporarily mounted on a vast tyre below the vehicle.
The staff at this garage are a delight, and nobody more so than Leonardo, our chauffeur to several battery shops. What an interesting guy! This mere mechanic is learning Russian, has visited Europe, is married to a gynaecologist, can sustain an intelligent conversation on the origins of Marxism in Hegel’s philosophy, loves operetta, and is excited by the coming appearance in
Dinner was chicken stir-fry and strawberries, neither sensational but both good, which we ate parked outside the very large workshop and protected by 2 young, gun-toting night security guards and a ferocious-sounding dog.
“Don’t leave the vans: the dog will be wandering around soon”, we’re advised. We won’t, of course.
Tuesday 6 March
Quito
It’s my best sister’s birthday, and there’s no chance of me getting a call through[1]. For a second day, we’re at the Autec garage, and for a second night too. We don’t move off the site today and stupid though it may seem as we aren’t doing any of the repairs, we’re very busy and by the early afternoon, we’re really tired.
How can this be? Well, there’s the constant nagging: “What’s happened to my batteries?... When are you coming to look at the charger I want you to install?”. They’re good folk here, but they aren’t fast and they need prompting. Our engine batteries were taken out at 16.00 or so yesterday, but they weren’t re-installed until 23 hours later, yet they only needed testing and a repair to a terminal.
The nagging is easily matched in time taken by the directing. The morning work on the re-installation of the tank demanded constant supervision, and the mechanics wanted that as this was totally new to them: they barely understand any of the issues or the way the tank and its accessories fit together.
Then there’s the fact that this nagging, supervising, and indeed all exchanges, have to be in Spanish. This is remarkably demanding.
Plus almost everything that is done by a mechanic involves me doing something else. Today’s electrical work meant I needed to climb on the roof to cover the solar panels, and later, to get out a number of cables to connect to the workshop’s electricity. And later still, to pack them up again.
So what did we get done? The gas tank is back on and in better shape than before it fell off – but the additional strap we wanted has not been installed. The engine battery terminal, melted by the
We made very good progress with two new jobs we commissioned when we were obliged to spend the day here to get MM’s air conditioning done (which it was). The jobs were the installation of a mains battery charger and a mains-to-24v transformer for the fridge. This took almost all day and the auto-electrician did some good work – but like all the other jobs, it was not quite completed. We wanted to test the installation on mains, preferably 110v, the North American standard, but this proved impossible largely because the workshop’s electrical supply was so poor. We were unable to get power with an earth!
By 17.30, we were finished (sort of) and very tired. But the fact that we were filthy doing such mucky jobs (and not having had a shower since…) meant that we raised our game to re-join the ranks of The Great Washed.
By dint of some good teamwork, we were out of the shower and had eaten chicken (in a yoghurt sauce with cumin and paprika no less) by 20.00.
Happy birthday Pauline, and sorry I didn’t make it to that phone!
Wednesday 7 March
Quito
We only have MM’s security bar to do plus a blow-out of our dusty air filters plus two van washes… and we have to pay our bills. But it takes all day!
We start with having the vans well washed at 08.30 onwards, then get the garage foreman to clean the filters. Soon after, it becomes clear that MM’s security bar is a complete cock-up, perhaps 150mm longer than required - and as the day progresses, this cock-up gets worse. Instead of measuring the required length, one of the garage staff sort of guesses what it should be and it is remade 10-20mm too short! It’s difficult to understand how such simple jobs can be turned into crises.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to get our bill without success, and I also want to find out where the mechanica is that re-did our tank housing so that we can go and get the ‘missing’ strap (or better still, two).
As it happened, the mechanica’s rep is on site, and after establishing that his workshop will be a pig to find, we follow him back there. It’s about 10.30 at this point, and the work at this big metal-bashing workshop starts immediately. However, it too almost becomes a crisis before my original idea – to have two simple straps that circle the tank and the cradle above, with the two ends joined to each other and the cradle – is accepted and implemented. By 13.00, we are the delighted owners of a tank that will never fall off again. Watch this space.
Not a bargain though at $50… or maybe it is a bargain because during the course of the work, I thumb a lift with our engineer and his brother and whilst the former is getting some metal cut for us, the bro takes me to a large ironmongers for the chains that we’ve been wanting in order to secure our roof boxes whilst on the ro-ro. Such a chauffeur service is invaluable, especially in a big city. How else to find such stuff?
13.00, the work is done, and it’s time to shop for a few fresh essentials and then eat. Next door to the workshop on this crummy back street is a pretty downmarket but clean fish restaurant which comes recommended. And my goodness it’s good! Margaret has beautifully presented, tasty and and plump prawns in garlic sauce and I have the parga (a lovely, whole, crisply-fried white fish) which comes with superb seafood rice, a refreshing onion and tomato salad, and chips. $10 all in.
Soon after 14.00, we’re back at Autec. MM’s security bar is in crisis, and the foreman gets down to sorting it which he does by mid-afternoon. At which point, he is able to focus on the bills. This too is a jolly old mess. MM’s battery work is on my bill, and mine on hers! Some items seem overcharged whilst others have been totally forgotten. Yesterday’s work (c6 man hours) on our charger+transformer installation is represented by a single entry for the creation of a small cage for the charger!!
It takes more than an hour to sort the final bills out and we kill some of the time watching the Autec telly - Arsenal vs PSV live in the Champions’ League on. The assembled small throng are wildly pro-PSV as the Ecuadorian Mendes plays for them. Arsenal are dominant but can’t score and are knocked out. I also use the waiting time to discover there’s a cabinas telefonicas close by, and I manage to call birthday-girl-yesterday Pauline who has a guest for dinner, our daughter Jenni. Two for the price of one: very good.
The final bills are agreed, but there’s more fun and games when we come to pay. Our Visa card isn’t accepted, but we pay the $175 bill in cash and sort the card problem out by phone later. Visa had stopped the card because it was being used abroad: we had not informed them of our peregrinations.
By now it’s late afternoon, but we’ve already determined what we will do for the next two nights and for tomorrow. Autec are happy for us to park here whilst we visit the historic centre of
A snack for tea, some planning for our visit tomorrow, some video for Margaret and scribbling for me, and then bed.
But not before our guards have requested that I take a photo of them and their hound.
Thursday 8 March
Quito
We set out for the old city by taxi soon after 09.00. It’s a 30 minute drive through heavy traffic, but in general the traffic is moving.
We spend the day in a very small area just to the south of the old city’s nominal centre, the Plaza Grande or Plaza de la Independencia. We start off at the house of Marshal Sucre, now a museum. Why? Because we like old houses (this is c 200 years old), and
The best thing about the museum is the house which is gorgeous with a classic courtyard arrangement and some lovely rooms. The second best thing is that they do have several authentic pieces of
Next, to the stunning Jesuit church (Iglesia de la Compania de Jesus) just round the corner. I use the word ‘stunning’ advisedly. We have now visited a very large number of the fabulous churches of Catholic Spain in its colonial territories, and this is up there with the best. 7 tons of gold make this the most lustrous church interior we have seen, and the detail is breathtaking. Wherever you look, walls, alcoves, ceilings… everything is decorated. Simply astonishing. But I can’t share the wonder with you, dear diary, as one can’t take – or buy - photos.
A very short walk down from the Compania is the aforementioned plaza. This houses a somewhat boring but very old cathedral, a lovely archbishop’s palace, and the attractive and exceptionally long presidential palace. The square itself is well planted and set out with a monument to the (again, very early) liberators of 1809. They failed in their quest, but earned martyrdom and the devotion of their compatriots through all the later generations.
Today, the square is very lively. Outside
‘Is the President of the Republic at home?’ I ask one young woman. It’s not clear if he is, but she hopes to see him nonetheless. And then, miraculously, he appears! I am gobsmacked!!
This is the youthful (aged 45) and handsome, new and radical president of
He then disappears and re-appears on the lower balcony, this time with the press, some aides and many soldiers and plain clothes guards, and launches into a fine speech. It’s unscripted, well delivered, and very well received. Margaret and I can understand a remarkably large part of it. He starts with a joke about his poor Quichua (the principal indigenous language), notes the huge economic importance of women (he is an economist), indicates his strong support for women’s issues including the struggle against domestic violence (he dismisses Latin machismo as an unacceptable excuse for bashing the wife), and ends with ‘Hasta la victoria siempre!’, a phrase associated with Che Guevara.
I’m totally bowled over by the experience of seeing this guy.
We walk back from the square to another square,
After 14.00, we go a-wandering again to find La Ronda, a street which allegedly includes some of the best colonial houses hereabouts. It is the only disappointment of the day. The street has been extensively restored and cleansed. It’s populated by security guards to offset its unwelcome reputation as the pickpocket centre of
Some of our party are now flagging, so we taxi back to the centre of our operations for today in order to find and visit the Museo Casa Maria Augusta Urrutia. The late, eponymous owner and patroness of the house was a lively and very rich woman who died in 1987. She made her mark through her good works which continue today through a foundation she created with the Jesuits in 1939. The house is massive and includes a remarkable number of things from around the world (including an English bath) that only the richest could have afforded. But alongside this, the house incorporated a school which was one part of the good works of a good woman.
A brief shop at a local panaderia and a supermarket, and then we climb into a taxi for the 30 minute return trip to the vans. To avoid the rush hour traffic, the route largely follows the Occidentale, a sort of
The Autec garage regained, we do a few small jobs and then relax before a mini-tea and yet more relaxing. One of our night guards appears in civvies with his wife and baby. ‘Have I printed the photo?’ and I’m pleased to tell him that we did manage to stitch this task in to a busy day. I hand over the slightly crumpled pair of pictures.
[1] There was actually: we were only 5 minutes walk from the phones, but I’d assumed that we were in the middle of nowhere.
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