Adventure #3

The Truth. So much less exhilarating than the fantasies I was fabricating in my mind for the five hours it took before we, thankfully, safely arrived en mi casa. 

As soon as we came up to the sea of pilgrims, we halted to a stop. We proceeded to creep forward at a snail's pace of about three kilometers per hour. After about 90 minutes, Linds and I concluded that since we couldn't beat this, we'd make like pilgrims ourselves. In addition to being able to stretch our legs as we walked alongside Grim the Reaper, as Linds called the darkly dressed dude, this would also prove to be wise, I believe, as la virgen del Quinche keeps souls safe from serious accidents. She's a popular woman amongst taxi and truck drivers. We'd soon be needing her protection.

After walking for some time, it seemed the pilgrims were stopping to gather in a pueblecito para festejar. Hopping back into the car, we grew hopeful, but the police truck that pulled in front of us and parked sideways to block traffic from proceeding dashed those hopes in a jiffy. By this point there is a cacophony of horns honking. Behind us something is about to go down, it seems, as several police officers rush to a group of angry men who have gotten out of their vehicles. Suddenly Ana is speaking to Fanny frantically. ¡Vaya! ¡Vaya! ¡Con confianza, Fanny, con confianza! Ana bellows as she directs Fanny to go around the parked police truck and make a break for it. Without hesitation, Fanny whips around the truck and we're yipping for joy, cheering her on. Hearts a-racing, we glance backwards to see if we're being followed, but all of the officers are busy trying to calm the angry mob from rioting.

So here we are having something of a celebratory dance party in the car for the next 30 kilometers. Around 6 pm, actually 6:03 to be exact, we are nearing the city limits, and we can nearly see the lights of the city beckoning us home. But what do we happen upon? Police officers shutting down the main autopista into Quito...because the pilgrims will eventually be making their way down that road. The road shut down at 6 pm sharp and wouldn't you know that this is the one thing that runs on time here. The police officer points us in the opposite direction and explains we will have to enter the city through Mitad del Mundo. Unbeknownst to us at this time, this will cost us another hour and a half. A collective groan is once again expelled from the car as we turn around, the city lights now turning into merely a mirage.

Fanny chooses this time to begin training for some big Nascar races. Actually, Cass aptly articulates that it's like we've been unwillingly transported into a game of Mario Kart.

Maybe this is fun if you're in your basement with one hand in a bowl of popcorn,
but it's really not that cool to be in Mario's kart. 

By this time it is dark, we're on the most winding roads I have experienced in Ecuador, and there aren't any roadside lights. Cass, sitting shotgun, is repeatedly uttering, "I just want to live...I just want to live." The three of us in back grip hands.

Yes, la virgen de Quinche is surely with us because we do arrive in one piece, at 8 pm, to my door. We've missed our original reservation, but I've got another nice Ecuadorian restaurant in mind and at 9 pm we are, joined by Michelle and short one Ana, walking down a street in La Mariscal towards Achiote. I reach to open the door, but it is locked. The lights are on in the restaurant, and many people are dining, but after speaking to a woman on the intercom, it is closed to any additional diners.

In a fit of exasperation, I whip around and see Cats, a restaurant I've never eaten at, but it's going to do at this time or else my nickname Jaws is gonna get real. Sipping our beverages, we decide that the only way to further cleanse ourselves of the built-up tension is to shake our booties at Bungalow.

Yep, dancing always does it. We returned to my apartment several hours later much saner sisters.

The rest of the trip was much less eventful and there were no complaints about that. Linds and Cass came with me to school on Monday; objections the students did not utter as they welcomed mis hermanas guapas into the classroom with flowers and big grins.

The sisters returned to the States this morning, in time to celebrate Thanksgiving back home. I'm off to Mindo to celebrate with my fellow extranjeros this weekend.

I turn to the words of Thoreau here:
“I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual. It is surprising how contented one can be with nothing definite - only a sense of existence. Well, anything for variety. I am ready to try this for the next ten thousand years, and exhaust it. How sweet to think of! my extremities well charred, and my intellectual part too, so that there is no danger of worm or rot for a long while. My breath is sweet to me. O how I laugh when I think of my vague indefinite riches. No run on my bank can drain it, for my wealth is not possession but enjoyment.” 

Mi amor a ti.

Jame