Bed And Breakfast Tumbaco Quito

... how mangos cost 8 dollars in England. This probably isnt even true. But the sentence just rolls off the tongue now. And it always goes down well. There are three other incidences that we think are worth mentioning. Taxi 1: in our first few days in Quito when we could barely comprehend any Spanish (apart from Que Chevre Obvs), we were picked up by a mystical character who spooked us with stories of train crashes in lakes. At least this may have been what he was ...

... collection of artifacts from the various civilisations throughout Ecuadorean history. It was incredible to see the impressive collection of well-preserved artifacts from various ancient and pre-Inca cultures - mainly pottery and jewellery - and some explanation as to how different cultures used to live. We spent a good while in the museum and it actually worked out perfectly as it was closed the following day so all worked out not heading out to the Equator ...

... I might be reduced to instantly killing it, running, or screaming like a woman. Many of you might have seen this. So I can understand personal phobias over certain creatures of this earth. Caroline just doesnīt like mice, or rats. Being a biologist, thatīs kinda hard. But itīs there, and when she opened the door, a dead mouse was on itīs back on our floor looking like it had breathed in just a little too much poison for its ...

... back at the apartment by 3pm. After unloading our bags, and removing some rather smelly substances we had left in the fridge 16 days ago, we walked upto the Secret garden hostel. At the hostel we found that the lessons we had hoped to have this week in Quito were unlikely to materialize. The classes were full and there were not two teachers available. This gave rise to another ...

... recent graves, but the people there seemed to welcome it. Julieann in particular found the whole experience a bit creepy, but sheīs a bit of a wimp. One room dedicated to children (much smaller tombs/graves/whatever) was particularly sad.
After leaving the catacombs, we wound our way around the clock towers to finally find the entrance to our ascent. The first couple dozen meters were just flights of stairs. Our breath was thankfully ...

... a man (3 in fact) sweeping and washing down the front steps. Had I written this a week ago it would have been a purely female domain, I'm glad it isn't that way any more. I'm sure that's how it used to be in Britain years ago, everyone looked after their little bit of terra firma and with a bit of luck all the little bits joined up so that the whole street, or the whole block of flats, were clean and tidy. I think it's a very worthwhile way of starting any ...

... will be much improved! 4 hours of spanish is a little intense but it is fun and will be well worth it. They offer a lot of activities as well through out the week such as salsa lessons (getting Zac to one is going to be like pulling teeth but he promised!), cooking lessons, weekend getaways, and this Thursday me and Zac are going on a night tour of the old part of Quito. It is supposed to be beautiful at night. They are hiring a bus ...

... most responsive to change." I am just now beginning to grasp what ole Chuck was talking about.

Something else I learned while backpacking is that we live in an enormous, diverse world and I now realize that I would like to see as much of it as possible before checking out. I can not think of anything I would rather be doing than traveling or planning my next adventure. Of course, making an occupation out of it is every globe-trotters dream.

Another thing ...

... have come to see us die. i look down, look at the rope (rope...like the one you buy at the hardware store), look at my harness, and think....what the f$%& am i doing!?! i just kept on repeating...no, no, no. he tells me not to look down and to look straight ahead...seriously? what am i, five? i am looking at marianna and i could almost see my fear reflected in her face. the guy starts counting...one...two...three and a small nudge ...

... my daypack, which I took with me everywhere, was a different matter. In it were my computer for writing this journal, my camera with it's expensive new zoom lens that I'd just bought in San Francisco, a dozen packets of photos from Guatemala which Michelle had reckoned were the best pictures she'd ever taken, guidebooks, novels and numerous assorted knick knacks that we had picked up along the way and which had some personal value. I was utterly devastated. I ran up to the owner and told her ...