July 6, 2012: The Day Before
July 7, 2012: Traveling
July 8, 2012: First Day
July 9, 2012: Teleferico, Iglesia de La Compañia de Jesus
July 10, 2012: The Basilica and the Stolen Backpack
July 11, 2012: Last Day in Quito
July 12, 2012: Travel to Loja
July 13, 2012: Catamayo
July 14, 2012: Loja and Alfredo
July 15, 2012: Church at Semilla de Mostaza
July 16, 2012: Back to Quito
July 17, 2012: Traveling
Note: Many of the pictures in this blog series are taken from the internet, because we had our camera stolen halfway through the trip.
Walked to the mall for a Cinnabon breakfast. Just as doughy in the middle as in the States. I took the cinnamon rolls to a table while Joe ordered coffee at an espresso stand. He ordered a cappuccino that was actually very well-made. Cappuccinos are easy to mess up because they have a lot of foam, and the foam has to be smooth and velvety, not bubbly like soap.
Back to the hotel, check out, and taxi to the guest house. Unpacked, then found a taxi to take us to the Catholic church, the Basilica. Gorgeous stone building outside, with three tall towers to climb and look at the city.
To get up the first tower, we took an elevator up four floors, then took several flights of stairs. Then we took a narrow winding one-person staircase up several more flights, and then we climbed three ladders to get up to the top level. To get to the second tower, we had to cross a wooden bridge, go up a ladder, and go up two flights of extremely narrow ladder-stairs (are they still called stairs if they are less than 3 inches wide?) Sadly, the entire building was littered with graffiti and trash and damage. It’s beautiful from the outside, and fun to climb inside, but it’s not well-maintained at all.
We walk around outside the Basilica, starving for lunch. Suddenly, I hear Joe say, “Oh, crap,” and I turn around and he has bird poop all over his shirt and leg and the backpack. A man nearby looks on sympathetically, then points up. I’m looking for the bird, but can’t see anything. He offers Joe some Kleenex, then offers to take us to a nearby restroom.
We follow him and he kindly pays the 50 cent fee for the restroom while Joe cleans off. I stand outside with the backpack. Our new friend calls someone on his cell phone, then talks to a few people in the area. Then he comes up right next to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and points to the women’s bathroom, and asks if I want to use the bathroom. I tell him, no thank you, I don’t need it. He walks briskly away, crossing the street, and I turn around and our backpack is gone. I yell for Joe, who comes out shirtless and race down the sidewalk to the stares of people, but I have no idea where the thief took my backpack while our “friend” was distracting me.
We find a cop on a bike and explain what happened. He talks to some people outside the restrooms, one of whom is a kid who saw the whole thing, including the blue car the thief escaped into. The cops take off, but of course they don’t find the thieves.
We are so stunned and disappointed. Later we realize that the whole thing was a set-up, from the moment the “bird poop” hit Joe. The man “helps” tourists to a bathroom to clean off the mess he threw on them, and then he distracts them while his partner grabs their stuff and takes off in a car. I feel guilty for not being aware of the backpack for the five seconds it took them to steal it, but we later realize they would have taken it one way or another, after such an elaborate set-up.
The cops flag down a taxi for us, and they sternly tell the driver exactly how much he is allowed to charge us. I’m grateful they don’t want us to be taken advantage of.
We go to the guest house, exhausted. We’ve lost our $150 camera and all the pictures we’ve taken, Joe’s smartphone, the Spanish books we bought yesterday, my notebook where I’d been documenting the trip, some snacks, and a little bit of money. We keep saying “At least it wasn’t our passports, at least we weren’t hurt,” but we still feel very bitter.
Today is the day we meet up with our missionaries, Leonardo and Lourdes (Lulu) Calva, who happened to be in Quito today, and who will travel with us to Loja day after tomorrow. Here's a picture, with Loja in the background.
I am so overjoyed to see them around 5. Familiar faces! English speakers! And people who have spent enough time in the U.S. to know from our perspective how horrible it feels to have a bag stolen. I cry; they console me. We go out for Pizza Hut because Lulu has been craving it. It’s a fun evening with a lot of healing laughter.
July 7, 2012: Traveling
July 8, 2012: First Day
July 9, 2012: Teleferico, Iglesia de La Compañia de Jesus
July 10, 2012: The Basilica and the Stolen Backpack
July 11, 2012: Last Day in Quito
July 12, 2012: Travel to Loja
July 13, 2012: Catamayo
July 14, 2012: Loja and Alfredo
July 15, 2012: Church at Semilla de Mostaza
July 16, 2012: Back to Quito
July 17, 2012: Traveling
Note: Many of the pictures in this blog series are taken from the internet, because we had our camera stolen halfway through the trip.
Walked to the mall for a Cinnabon breakfast. Just as doughy in the middle as in the States. I took the cinnamon rolls to a table while Joe ordered coffee at an espresso stand. He ordered a cappuccino that was actually very well-made. Cappuccinos are easy to mess up because they have a lot of foam, and the foam has to be smooth and velvety, not bubbly like soap.
Back to the hotel, check out, and taxi to the guest house. Unpacked, then found a taxi to take us to the Catholic church, the Basilica. Gorgeous stone building outside, with three tall towers to climb and look at the city.
To get up the first tower, we took an elevator up four floors, then took several flights of stairs. Then we took a narrow winding one-person staircase up several more flights, and then we climbed three ladders to get up to the top level. To get to the second tower, we had to cross a wooden bridge, go up a ladder, and go up two flights of extremely narrow ladder-stairs (are they still called stairs if they are less than 3 inches wide?) Sadly, the entire building was littered with graffiti and trash and damage. It’s beautiful from the outside, and fun to climb inside, but it’s not well-maintained at all.
We walk around outside the Basilica, starving for lunch. Suddenly, I hear Joe say, “Oh, crap,” and I turn around and he has bird poop all over his shirt and leg and the backpack. A man nearby looks on sympathetically, then points up. I’m looking for the bird, but can’t see anything. He offers Joe some Kleenex, then offers to take us to a nearby restroom.
We follow him and he kindly pays the 50 cent fee for the restroom while Joe cleans off. I stand outside with the backpack. Our new friend calls someone on his cell phone, then talks to a few people in the area. Then he comes up right next to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and points to the women’s bathroom, and asks if I want to use the bathroom. I tell him, no thank you, I don’t need it. He walks briskly away, crossing the street, and I turn around and our backpack is gone. I yell for Joe, who comes out shirtless and race down the sidewalk to the stares of people, but I have no idea where the thief took my backpack while our “friend” was distracting me.
We find a cop on a bike and explain what happened. He talks to some people outside the restrooms, one of whom is a kid who saw the whole thing, including the blue car the thief escaped into. The cops take off, but of course they don’t find the thieves.
We are so stunned and disappointed. Later we realize that the whole thing was a set-up, from the moment the “bird poop” hit Joe. The man “helps” tourists to a bathroom to clean off the mess he threw on them, and then he distracts them while his partner grabs their stuff and takes off in a car. I feel guilty for not being aware of the backpack for the five seconds it took them to steal it, but we later realize they would have taken it one way or another, after such an elaborate set-up.
The cops flag down a taxi for us, and they sternly tell the driver exactly how much he is allowed to charge us. I’m grateful they don’t want us to be taken advantage of.
We go to the guest house, exhausted. We’ve lost our $150 camera and all the pictures we’ve taken, Joe’s smartphone, the Spanish books we bought yesterday, my notebook where I’d been documenting the trip, some snacks, and a little bit of money. We keep saying “At least it wasn’t our passports, at least we weren’t hurt,” but we still feel very bitter.
Today is the day we meet up with our missionaries, Leonardo and Lourdes (Lulu) Calva, who happened to be in Quito today, and who will travel with us to Loja day after tomorrow. Here's a picture, with Loja in the background.
I am so overjoyed to see them around 5. Familiar faces! English speakers! And people who have spent enough time in the U.S. to know from our perspective how horrible it feels to have a bag stolen. I cry; they console me. We go out for Pizza Hut because Lulu has been craving it. It’s a fun evening with a lot of healing laughter.
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