If Carnaval in Ecuador is tame, I'm almost glad I wasn't in Rio!
Ambato was really fun. I was totally knackered, since I managed to grab only 2 hours sleep on Friday night before getting up at some stupid hour to get the bus in the morning. Despite advertising that every room had a private bathroom and TV, our hostel rooms were about as basic as they came. Marilyn, Aldis and I had to share a double bed, and the only bathroom on our floor was disgusting. Still, it did the job I guess.
On Saturday, the 8 of us (Brad, Guido and three newer girls came too) went for a typical 2-course Ecuadorean lunch for $2 each, and wandered round the town, gawping at the quantity of people in the little town. There was lots going on. Brad really wanted to go see a real bull-fight, so he, Guido and the other girls went along to that whilst squeamish Marilyn, Aldis and I opted out. Instead, for some odd reason, we were persuaded by some girl from the tourist information team to go and visit a bull "show" in a suburb of the town, so we hopped in a taxi (actually it was a lot more difficult than that, with so many people wanting taxis, but it just sounded good).
The place felt miles away from the bustling, modern, touristic centre of Ambato. It was more like a quaint rural village, with a really ramshackle bull ring! The specatator stands, if you can call them that, were being erected by the locals when we arrived, and the van carrying the bulls was just pulling up. The locals were so friendly, it was if they felt honoured to have us there. We were the only tourists around. I really wasn't very confident about the stability of these homemade stands, but we settled down to watch, made welcome by one of the local men who was very keen to explain everything that was happening. It actually wasn't too bad, they seemed to respect the animals and although they did taunt them with their wafting of the capes none of the bulls got hurt. Marilyn and Aldis were even persuaded to have a go in the ring with a female cow! I watched from the dubious security of the stands. Someone had to take the photos, right?!
That night we rejoined the others for dinner. The girls were still pretty shaken up after having to watch several bulls fight to the death. (We made the right choice.) We wandered the town for a while soaking up the atmosphere and getting lost in the crowds. Brad had some friends of his host family that he'd promised to meet up with, so the same group went to some club to meet them. Marilyn, Aldis and I opted to stay with the throngs of Ecuadoreans in the streets. There were hot air balloons (most of which got caught in streetlights and set themselves alight, falling back into the streets ablaze), lots of alcohol, exciting food and crazy crowds squirting lots of carioca. Think a mixture of silly string and hair mousse, and you've got it. After getting absolutely covered by the stuff, we decided it was time to get our own back, so we invested in a few cans. The war began. Such fun! Why don't we have Carnaval?
The next morning there was a procession in the streets, so we had to get up early AGAIN. It was really fun, with lots of interesting and colourful floats, and streams of dancing, singing and instrument-playing locals in colourful costumes. But it was sooo long. I would have fallen asleep had the floor not been so damn uncomfortable to sit on for 5 hours. The rest of the day was spent wandering around and eating lots of ice-cream and cakes, the only way I could discover of staying awake, since there are no coffee shops. Finally, I had to return to Quito in preparation for my tour.
The journey was long and uncomfortable. I managed to hop on a full bus just before it left, so I had to sit in the space reserved for the bus conductor, as did a mother and her 3 small children, who decided that I made a great pillow. But I was so tired that I missed my stop, ended up right in the south of Quito, and had to pay $13 for the taxi to my hotel. Oops. I have also discovered that, somewhere in the journey, I lost my camera. Sooooooo disappointed. I would say that I had it stolen, but I think the likelihood is that it fell out of my bag. Dammit, I was doing so well!
That night and the next morning I met my tour group. I was very excited at the prospect of meeting a bunch of sporty young things, (like me!?) particularly some fit sporty men. I was even a little concerned that they'd be annoying know-it-all pre-uni gappers. So I was disappointed that I was the youngest by a long way. Two of the men are at least 60 and retired! Oh well. In fairness, after getting to know them a bit, they're all good fun and really interesting. Some real characters, not least Neville, a US-hating, factiod-spouting, ponytail-sporting 65 (?) year old yank with the worst-attempted Spanish you've ever heard! Hope I'm not that bad!
Mountain biking first, eek!
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