The perils of buses
Trip Start
Oct 01, 2007
1
5
19
Trip End
Oct 23, 2007
Tambillo,
Ecuador
Saturday, October 6, 2007
We'd done the usual greetings of where are you from, and narrowed down my usual response of "a tiny village between Oxford and London" to "near High Wycombe" and then found out she worked with someone I went to school with.
We hopped on a bus headed for the bus station, but I mistakenly thought (I'm sure someone told me) that all the buses terminated at the bus station. It occurred to us both that it seemed to be taking an awfully long time and that we were quite possibly lost so we got off at the next stop. Or rather Louise did. As I scrambled past the hoards of schoolkids, the bus doors slammed shut in my face and despite the shouts of other passengers for the driver to open the door again, he didnīt. Nice. So as the bus pulled away all I could do was helplessly wave to Louise as we climbed up the hill into some dodgy outskirts of Quito. Other passengers said stuff to be which I didnīt understand until a policeman who spoke marginally more English than the rest (i.e. two words) advised me to get off at the next stop and walk back. I thanked him, even though this had been my plan all along, I was hardly going to stay on the bus with some vague hope it would do a u-turn and take me back where I wanted to go.
As soon as we reached the next stop I dived off before the bus could keep me hostage again and walked very quickly back in what I hoped was the right direction.
Thankfully it was, and Louise was still where I left her, looking slightly worried. We hailed a cab and arrived at the bus station only to be informed that we werenīt able to catch a bus to Tambillo from here. Precisely why, I couldnīt quite understand and I wasnīt sure whether the woman was deliberately being unhelpful or whether she didnīt understand me, but I certainly didnīt understand her. We were a bit defeated by this point so we gave up and went for coffee instead and try again the next day.
Julian, one of the guys who worked at the hostel had arranged to meet some of us the following morning to go to the Basillica church which has amazing views over the old town of Quito. But, after his tracksuit themed night out he was nowhere to be seen the next morning. Jess, Angela, Justin and I went along anyway, and after srtuggling up the ridiculously steep hill and cursing the altitude for making me feel even unfitter than I am (I still partially blame my cold) we stupidly opted for the stairs rather than the lift. Although I did find it a bit strange that the church even possessed a lift...as well as a restaurant, gift shop and toilets inside.
I only made it about three auraters of the way up, not cos Iīm lazy but after the spiral staircase my legs were like jelly and there was no way I was going to make it up a vertical ladder to the belfry. Well, if I did, I sure wouldnīt make it back down. Even the schoolkids looked a little terrified, which made me feel better as kids are rarely scared of anything, apart from one girl who sat in the corner looking incredibly bored by the whole situation. Obviously not a church fan.
Louise and I made a second and successful attempt to go to the rescue centre since Iīd been told by another girl at the hostel who had been that we were at the correct bus station and the woman had obviously been talking crap. However, we now had to try and negotiate where to disembark. Stringing together a few words from my Spanish phrasebook I attempted to ask the driver if he could please tell us when we arrived in Tambillo. He gave me a blank look, muttered something incomprehendible to me and then chuckled. I smiled vaeguly and thanked him - wondering whether the laughter meant a) he wondered why we were going to Tambillo, b) we were on the wrong bus, or c) he was amused by my accent/choice of words (by the way this is a European Spanish phrasebook and phrases can have different meanings in Latin American Spanish - i.e. the European phrase for "I want to catch the bus" actually means "I want to bonk the bus" in Latin America).
A little while later he sniggered again and waved us over to get off the bus. Unsure whether or not we were being dumped in the middle of nowhere I hastily looked for a sign and there was one. He was obviously just laughing at me then.
Iīd been practising a little phrase I had written down to try to explain to the taxi driver that we wanted to go to Santa Martha Rescue Centre but it was all in vain as he just took one look at us and guessed where we were going. At least it was more successful than the bus. And no one laughed at me.
Unfortunately the manager of the rescue centre wasnīt overjoyed to see and said they normally turn people away if they turn up unannounced (we tried to phone several times but they never answered). Mr Grumpy dragged out one of the volunteers to show us around, who was thankfully a lot more cheery. There were a fair few lions which was a bit bizarre since theyīre meant to be in Africa, but a lot of the animals had been rescued from circuses. I did get to see a very cute coati, although she wasnīt able to see me, due to the fact her previous owner used her eyes as an ashtray and she was now blind.
There was also a jaguar, puma and ocelot, as well as several Galapagos tortoises, a few monkeys and many macaws and other birds. And 2 animals which I think are called tayras and are like a cross between a tasmanian devil and a weasel. Apparently theyīll rip your hand off given half a chance. Cute.
Friday night signalled a great all you can eat and drink BBQ on the terrace followed by a journey to find the Irish pub in town (thereīs always one). Our cabbie had never heard of it though so we got dropped off somewhere nearby and then trapsed around asking various people where it was but no one knew and we were about to give up when we realised we were standing about 10 metres from it.
