Quito Bonito

Arriving in Quito yesterday I noticed two things right away. The cold downpour and the altitude induced headache. I made my way to a hostel, checked in and hunkered down. Too cold and wet to explore, and not knowing what to do with myself I spent the evening bundled in my jacket watching movies and feeling a feeling I had not felt for quite some time, loneliness.

Around 10:30 last night the hostel, which had only one other occupant when I arrived, began filling up with people and I quickly realized why I haven't stayed in a dorm room for more than two years now, the noise. I put my headphones on and tried semi-successfully to sleep, though I awoke frequently, the headache still there.

This morning didn't start out all that great either, I ordered breakfast from a cafe only to be served instant coffee and stale toast. UGH....

Then things turned around. Really turned around. Turns out Quito is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen, ok, it might not be the city on the island (a little code there), but it is damn beautiful, and the vistas are incredible. I wandered aimlessly, had a couple of short Spanish conversations with friendly passer-byers. Walking around aimlessly, wheezing slightly with every hill I climbed and every flight of stairs I mounted I felt truly relaxed for the first time since I landed.

Then it happened. Making my way back to my hostel after lunch I was walking along still enjoying every sight and sound when I felt something cold and sticky hit my hat and run down my back. I reached up to my neck and wiped some of the slime away. Green paint. Green fucking paint. Someone from a rooftop above had just poured green paint on me.

There were a few people standing around looking at me, and looking at the roof, and then looking back at me. First it came out in English "WHAT THE FUCK!!!" I screamed, quickly realizing that I needed to switch my rage to Spanish I rolled out the following, some of which I am not even sure translates to Spanish but I was to pissed off to care, and felt like I needed to get my point across. "Hijo de puta, vayase pa' la mierda. Voy a joder tu madre pinche guebon." I screamed while the crowd of slightly shocked locals looked on.

I turned and began walking away when one of the guys from the crowd came up to me with a handful of tissues and began trying to help me wipe the paint of my neck, back, camera, and backpack. After a few minutes I gave up, thanked him for his help, and began booking it back to my hostel. After a shower and a change of clothes I calmed down and let it go. I still love this city!