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.
We wake up at 3 to be at the Quito airport at 3:30 for a 6:30 flight. For check-in we are directed into the second of three lines, but to our annoyance, an agent ushers lines 1 and 3 ahead of us. I am doing my best not to be irritated, because I know we have a full day of flying and airports ahead of us, with many irritations to come.
To leave the country we have to stand in another line, where our passports are checked again. This takes about 25 minutes, and on to security which only takes about 5 minutes, and then we board the 2-hour flight to Panama City.
At our gate in Panama City, they ask everyone to get in line for a pre-boarding check. Everyone is confused, and asking everyone else what the line is for. No one really knows, including the agents I ask at the service desk. There's only one agent at the gate desk, and by the time they add two, the orderly line splits into a mob. We get to the front of the line after 40 minutes, and the agent looks at our passports and boarding passes, then lets us go. Now that we're good, we figure it won't be long till we board - but as they start calling groups to board, we aren't really sure where the line is. With 50 people still waiting to get their passports checked, there's one mob outside the boarding gate and one mob in the passport-checking line.
Out of 7 boarding groups, we are group 6. They call group 1. No one moves. They call group 2; one man goes through. Joe and I are just saying how smart it is to wait to call the next group till the prior group goes through, when they call groups 3 and 4, and then group 5! Before the line has even moved two inches, they call group 6. And then they tell group 6 people to leave the line...everyone is so confused. Also, this line is far back from the gate, so people aren't even sure what they are standing in line for. Ahead, I see peoples' suitcases being rifled through, and one man being patted down. Didn't we already go through security?!
By the time we get to the front of the line, a woman is checking boarding passes and "Pasaporte, por favor." So why did they make us wait in line for 40 minutes to check our passports, only to wait in line for another 30 minutes to check our passports again? And by the way, they already checked them 1. when we picked up our boarding passes, 2. before entering immigration, 3. At immigration. I am so annoyed that I rant to the woman even though I know she doesn't understand me. "Well, sorry we don't have our passports out. I just figured since you've already checked them five hundred times, we'd be good by now." I feel a little better.
Now our bags are rifled through; we're not sure what for, but we assume liquids since our next stop is in the US (in the South American airports, they don't care if we take liquids on the plane, but they confiscate any nail clippers in carry on baggage). I hold up two mini chocolate milk cartons and ask if we can take them, or if they're not allowed. The man seems bewildered. He calls over a woman who asks me something in a language that seems neither English nor Spanish. They both just stare at me. We just throw them away because we have no idea what they want us to do.
Then the inspector finds an empty disposable water bottle and he confiscates it. "It's empty," I say. He nods and throws it away. "There's no water in it," I say. He smiles and says "Thank you." Well, you're welcome to my used water bottle, sir. At least he lets me keep my nice pink Costco one.
After our experiences this morning, we are exhausted when we go through customs in Houston. First the customs interview, then to baggage claim. Luckily we don't have to get our bags inspected again, but we do go through security, and the line is the longest line I've seen at any airport so far. It takes about 45 minutes to go through security. I'm dying of thirst because we had our liquids confiscated in Panama City, and of course we can't take liquids through Houston security, and there's no way I can leave the packed maze of a line to go find a drinking fountain.
This time I get through security scot-free while Joe gets the scanning treatment. Finally, finally we can rest at the food court. I feel better once I get some pizza and Jamba Juice in me.
Ah, it's finally the last leg of our journey back to Seattle. I'm grateful we did customs in Houston because we had a 3-hour layover there, and it would have sucked to go through all that in Seattle. As it is, we land in Seattle and grab our bags and meet Joe's parents and stop and Wendy's (we ravenously consume our Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers because the flight only served meals that you had to pay an arm and a leg for) and go home, exhausted.
The house is SO CLEAN and I am overwhelmed again by Angela's kindness. Our cats are happy to see us, and we're happy to just be in a quiet, familiar place. We go straight to bed.
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.
We wake up at 3 to be at the Quito airport at 3:30 for a 6:30 flight. For check-in we are directed into the second of three lines, but to our annoyance, an agent ushers lines 1 and 3 ahead of us. I am doing my best not to be irritated, because I know we have a full day of flying and airports ahead of us, with many irritations to come.
To leave the country we have to stand in another line, where our passports are checked again. This takes about 25 minutes, and on to security which only takes about 5 minutes, and then we board the 2-hour flight to Panama City.
At our gate in Panama City, they ask everyone to get in line for a pre-boarding check. Everyone is confused, and asking everyone else what the line is for. No one really knows, including the agents I ask at the service desk. There's only one agent at the gate desk, and by the time they add two, the orderly line splits into a mob. We get to the front of the line after 40 minutes, and the agent looks at our passports and boarding passes, then lets us go. Now that we're good, we figure it won't be long till we board - but as they start calling groups to board, we aren't really sure where the line is. With 50 people still waiting to get their passports checked, there's one mob outside the boarding gate and one mob in the passport-checking line.
Out of 7 boarding groups, we are group 6. They call group 1. No one moves. They call group 2; one man goes through. Joe and I are just saying how smart it is to wait to call the next group till the prior group goes through, when they call groups 3 and 4, and then group 5! Before the line has even moved two inches, they call group 6. And then they tell group 6 people to leave the line...everyone is so confused. Also, this line is far back from the gate, so people aren't even sure what they are standing in line for. Ahead, I see peoples' suitcases being rifled through, and one man being patted down. Didn't we already go through security?!
By the time we get to the front of the line, a woman is checking boarding passes and "Pasaporte, por favor." So why did they make us wait in line for 40 minutes to check our passports, only to wait in line for another 30 minutes to check our passports again? And by the way, they already checked them 1. when we picked up our boarding passes, 2. before entering immigration, 3. At immigration. I am so annoyed that I rant to the woman even though I know she doesn't understand me. "Well, sorry we don't have our passports out. I just figured since you've already checked them five hundred times, we'd be good by now." I feel a little better.
Now our bags are rifled through; we're not sure what for, but we assume liquids since our next stop is in the US (in the South American airports, they don't care if we take liquids on the plane, but they confiscate any nail clippers in carry on baggage). I hold up two mini chocolate milk cartons and ask if we can take them, or if they're not allowed. The man seems bewildered. He calls over a woman who asks me something in a language that seems neither English nor Spanish. They both just stare at me. We just throw them away because we have no idea what they want us to do.
Then the inspector finds an empty disposable water bottle and he confiscates it. "It's empty," I say. He nods and throws it away. "There's no water in it," I say. He smiles and says "Thank you." Well, you're welcome to my used water bottle, sir. At least he lets me keep my nice pink Costco one.
After our experiences this morning, we are exhausted when we go through customs in Houston. First the customs interview, then to baggage claim. Luckily we don't have to get our bags inspected again, but we do go through security, and the line is the longest line I've seen at any airport so far. It takes about 45 minutes to go through security. I'm dying of thirst because we had our liquids confiscated in Panama City, and of course we can't take liquids through Houston security, and there's no way I can leave the packed maze of a line to go find a drinking fountain.
This time I get through security scot-free while Joe gets the scanning treatment. Finally, finally we can rest at the food court. I feel better once I get some pizza and Jamba Juice in me.
Ah, it's finally the last leg of our journey back to Seattle. I'm grateful we did customs in Houston because we had a 3-hour layover there, and it would have sucked to go through all that in Seattle. As it is, we land in Seattle and grab our bags and meet Joe's parents and stop and Wendy's (we ravenously consume our Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers because the flight only served meals that you had to pay an arm and a leg for) and go home, exhausted.
The house is SO CLEAN and I am overwhelmed again by Angela's kindness. Our cats are happy to see us, and we're happy to just be in a quiet, familiar place. We go straight to bed.
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