Quito, and Mitad Del Mundo

Returning to Quito would not be the highlight of my trip, nor would it be the ideal way to spend my final two days in the continent but tragically pre-booked flights home from this city would dictate my fate.

For some reason Quito was the only city in South America in which I had trouble finding a hostel, so I ended up staying in the slightly shabby but central, Mitad del Mundo Hostel. My first night I met a strange ex model from Chile, who was starting a new job in a department store the next day. He'd quit his modeling career as the drug taking life style no longer appealed to him...

I've never seen anyone so anxious about a new job, and later that night he asked me to accompany him in a taxi to his friends apartment to return a key, because he was nervous of the danger on the streets.

I also met the mysterious Joannes, a dutch musician, who, in three days, I did not see without his guitar. They were an equally odd pair, and set the tone for the hostel and my remaining time in South America.

Having already visited Quito, and not being too crazy of its dangerous busy streets, I opted for day trips out for my time there. The first of which I spent in Orvato, a small town an hour and a half away from Quito, where, according to the trusty book, the best market in South America was to be found. I'd have to

disagree with that statement, but nevertheless it did provide adequate Christmas shopping opportunities. Although not very exciting, I enjoyed my time there, the small town was a 'real' South American town, with traditional women trying to get you to buy various Alpaca goods.

The following day I visited the equator, or to be more precise, the town where its located, Mitad Del Mundo. The funny thing about this tourist attraction is that, its actually entirely fake. There is a massive park dedicated to the equator, with a large globe monument, a red line going the length of this park with a stadium for dancers, and of course plenty of restaurants and overly priced tourist shops. The site was actually created when French scientists in 1700's discovered the equator. Although very close, the real equator is 240 meters north, this discovery was made 12 years ago with the introduction of GPS.

This was lucky for a small museum which was already located exactly on the equator. The Museum had originally been set up because of the archaeological remains and this spot, unsurprisingly, in seemed the Inka's knew all about the equator before us, having worshipped the sun from this point. Now the museum also has a red line, and tour guides tell you about the equator as well as the remains, although, the preciseness of their scientific information is questionable, as are the 'experiments' you do on the sight. Thanks to my brother, I now now that the Coriolus effect cannot be demonstrated in a sink, although I still don't know how she faked it. I must admit, I was suspicious when we began to replicate 'light-as-a-feather-stiff-as-a-board' to demonstrate weightloss on the equator line...

My last night in South America was to be filled with tragedy as this was when I realised I had lost my beloved memory stick, holding ALL of my photos of South America. This by far was my greatest loss on the trip, topping a camera lens in Argentina. I became famed in the continent for losing things with almost every move, it had become expected and I'd learned not to buy anything I actually cared about (bye baby alpaca blue hat in Bolivia). This loss really broke my heart however, and I searched every inch of my hostel room, including a very smell boys bed. It was not there. After much self torture, I concluded that it had either been left in the computer two days ago, or, I'd accidently left it in my bag and it had fallen out somewhere, probably in Ortavo. It was a sad day, and my self-loathing and frustration outweighed any emotions I'd previously had about going home the next day.

Naturally, despite better judgement, I wanted to drown my sorrows. I ran into Joannes playing his guitar outside the hostel with some homeless people and we went for a drink. He too was leaving the next day, and was drowning that sorrow. We foolishly stayed up until 5am drinking, which made for a very hungover Jessica the next day.

I'd been told from home all about the snow that awaited me, which seemed lovely, until I realised that this could cause trouble to my flights. I was flying first to Amsterdam, and most of the flights the day before had been cancelled because they were snowed under. I turned up to the airport hoping the best however, to be greeted with an hour and a half delay. Not caring too much I fell asleep at my terminal until we could board.

For the record, I want to say KLM are my new favourite airline. There seemed to be a never ending supply of food and drink (although I couldn't stomach the free alcohol they were so desperate to give me), and we each had our own tv with movies, tv programmes, games, music, etc. It certainly helps when your flying for 13 and a half hours.

We flew forward in time, which meant I slept little and arrived at 6am in the Netherlands. We'd had to circle for a bit because the runway was too icy to land on (I'm happily not a bad flier). I was certain my flight home would be delayed, and waited for its status to change in the sceduled 3 hour stopover. By some Christmas miracle however it wasn't, despite the inches of snow, and we boarded shoddy Aer Lingus, and I wondered when they began competing with Ryanair in levels of cheapness and nastiness.

Finally I arrived home, a whole day later, wondering why it was soo dark all of the time, and trying desperately not to catch a cold. Despite the mandatory initial shocks, I was glad to be home, and to see my friends, family, and enjoyed Irish accents for the first time.

Next??

Hmm, getting money, learning to drive, and finding a job in a moany recession ridden country, and hopefully, returning to Dublin asap. Still, I love it, and after Bolivia, everything looks nicer, I'm even grateful for being able to get the dole!