Ecuador

As I stepped off the plane in Lago Agrio, I was greeted by searing heat and the smell of burning rubber.

The town, known as Lago by locals, is a festering pit. Primarily an oil town, it is deep in the jungle and about 30km from the Columbian border. On most weekends, it plays host to bands of roving FARC guerillas, cocaine smugglers and prostitutes. It was to be my gateway to the Amazon.

A couple of days before, I had decided that a trip to Ecuador's slice of the rainforest, otherwise known as the Oriente, would be a good idea. Practically everyone I had spoken to had said that it had been one of the highlights of their trip. What's more, with what can only be described as a stunning lack of foresight, I assumed that the horror stories I'd heard about snakes, spiders and parasites weren't true.

Over the next few days, we were lucky enough to see an amazing amount of wildlife: anacondas, caimans, 8 different species of monkey, tree frogs, 2- and 3- toed sloths, macaws, toucans, river dolphins and lots more. There were also a couple of fun extras:

- Piranha fishing (they are cunning little bastards, but taste pretty good pan-fried)

- A visit to a native Siona shaman, who performed a 'purification' (a bizarre ritual involving lots of singing, several palm leaves and a cigarette) and told us about the history of the shamans. Apparently, in order to become a 'real' shaman, a man is made to drink a special hallucinogenic liquid: this drink then puts him into a coma, which many 'wannabes' never wake up from. If he does wake up, he will continue to drink a diluted version of the substance for the rest of his life, as it apparently reveals all sorts of amazing things, such as the location of fish, the medicinal qualities of plants and the future. I personally think that this would have been much more legit had the shaman not tried to sell us this stuff afterwards ('20 dolares! Magic! 20 dolares!').

The downside to all these shenanigans was that life in the jungle was like being a contestant on an extended episode of Fear Factor. A massive Wolf Spider came out of the drain while I was showering, there were bullet ants under my mattress and even cockroaches in my washbag. There was also a little (when I say little, I actually mean that it was bigger than my hand..) Goliath tarantula living under the dining table.

Thankfully, I managed to get out alive and am now whiling away the hours in Lima and waiting for Jess to arrive and the real fun to begin!

Pranav

Apparently (according to my Lonely Planet at least..), Ecuador's main claim to fame is the fact that it is located on the equator. In order to commemorate this momentous national achievement the Ecuadorians built a monument just outside Quito, which is now one of the key stops on the ´Gringo Trail'. With this in mind, Nicolas and I decided to make the trip (about 22km) out of Quito for the day. Somewhat naively, the pair of us assumed that it would be a short and stress-free trip..

To start with, it was all too easy. We simply jumped on a Metrobus and ended up at Cotocallao Bus Terminal, from where the shuttle buses go down to the monument. We boarded the correct bus pretty quickly and settled in for what we believed to be a 30 minute journey. As the bus struggled manfully to break the 20kph barrier, it became apparent that this would not be the case. Literally seconds after this realisation had dawned on me, a man hopped in, carrying about 5 live chickens. To my dismay, he decided that the best place to stow his cargo was directly under my seat. Then an urchin got on the bus and began to sing. Ah great I thought, a welcome distraction from the clucking. Error.

The boy proceeded to regale the bus with a series of appallingly tuneless ditties, most of which seemed to be about heartache (earache, more like). In response to this aural violation, the chap in front of me decided to start playing Cuban hip-hop on loudspeaker on his phone. This continued for some time.

Eventually, the monument hove into view and the conductor shouted 'Mitad del Mundo'. Excellent, I thought, the ordeal is over. I was sadly mistaken.

Inexplicably, Nicolas insisted that we stay on the bus, explaining that it would make a U-turn and drop us directly outside the entrance of the monument. Given that he had been to the monument before, I decided to defer to his better judgement. Error. The bus simply continued to motor along and the monument began to fade into the distance. About 15 minutes later, when we could no longer see the monument, it dawned on me that something might not be quite right. I raised my concern with Nicolas, who simply shrugged and continued to insist that it would eventually turn around. We began to argue. Mr Cuban hip-hop turned the volume up.

Picture the scene, if you will. Nicolas and I, bickering in Spanglish and German, 5 chickens squawking and flapping under the seat, Cuban hip-hop blaring out of a speakerphone and an urchin, wailing tunelessly. None of the Ecuadorians batted an eyelid.

After another half an hour or so, we reached the small town of Calacali and all the other passengers got off. Finally realising the error of his ways, Nicolas proposed that we cut our losses and get something to eat. I, starving, agreed. We found a restaurant and ordered two almuerzos, set lunches. Despite my doubts about the provenance of the chicken we were eating (the restaurant was situated right next to the town's ´Coliseo de Gallitos´- cock-fighting pit), the meal was excellent. After about 20 minutes, another bus turned up and we made our way back to the monument without further incident.

The monument itself is a 30m tall and incorporates a museum of ethnography. More interesting is the unofficial museum next door, which contains a number of quite interesting little exhibits, whose aim is to debunk the many myths about the mysterious power of the equator. These exhibits include a demonstration of how water drains in one direction in the northern hemisphere and in the opposite direction in the southern hemisphere and one showing how you weigh about 2% less when you stand directly on the equator. These phenomenon (and others) are all apparently caused by mysterious gravitational forces, but I couldn't understand all of what the guide was saying, so that's about all I can tell you.

Thankfully, the return journey passed without incident and we got home at about 6 (having left at 10). Good times.

Pranav

Religion in Ecuador is really quite something.

I got up this morning with the intention of going to the National Museum of Ecuador but by the time I made it there it had closed for the day. For want of anything better to do, I decided to follow a crowd of Quiteños who had gathered nearby.

After about 10 minutes, we reached the city´s historic centre, home to some of the country´s oldest and most famous churches. Shortly afterwards, we reached ´La Iglesia de San Francisco´(an incredibly ornate building reportedly gilded with 8 tonnes of Conquistador gold) and just in time for the beginning of Mass.

The next 20 minutes or so (I´m no saint, that was about as much as I could take..) rank among the most surreal in my life. The priests conducting the service switched, seemingly at random, between Spanish, Latin and a weird religious trip-hop (think Christian Rock, but with a phatter bassline, or perhaps Massive Attack but with more references to divine providence). After what seemed like an eternity, I got up and left.. with all the subtlety of a giraffe in dark glasses trying to sneak into a polar bears-only golf club (to quote Blackadder).

As I wandered around the winding streets of the Old Town afterwards, I began to realise why the Church had resorted to the gratuitous use of riddim(z). All around me were dancers, jugglers and other assorted street-performers, many of whom were drawing crowds at least as big as the congregation in the church I had just left. Clearly the Church had felt the need to up the ante in order to keep the faithful, well, faithful.

Good shout, I say. Let me know when they let Dizzee Rascal play Chelmsford Cathedral.

Pranav

I spent the whole of Friday attempting to learn Spanish.

Or rather, I should say, I spent the whole day bumbling my way through the present tense, days of the week, and, the coup de grace, the contents of my pencil case. All of this in a manner strangely reminiscent of lower school French (aside from the regrettable absence of Frau Di Francia). After the strain of these exertions, I decided to head out of Quito on Saturday, accompanied by Nicolas, a Swiss Colombian, and Mielte, a German (don´t ask..).

After a hair-raising bus journey, the highlights of which were the driver´s singular refusal to actually watch the road and a sequence of literally breath-taking overtaking maneouvers, we ended up in Otavalo, reputedly home to the biggest indigenous market in South America.

True to form, the market was indeed chuffing massive and choc-a-bloc with stallholders selling everything from livestock to alpaca woollens. As Nicolas and I were walking around with a 6ft plus gringo (bear in mind, the average height among the Quichua-speaking natives is about 5ft..), we were subjected to the full range of the vendors´banter. This stretched from the conventional ´Hola Amigo´, to the somewhat more forceful ´¿Eh tu hijo de puta, que tal?´ (which roughly translates as 'what's up you son of a bitch?') and was quite an experience!

Thankfully, the journey back was a little less perilous and our bus even had a DVD player in it (yet the 3 hour journey still cost less than $2.. suck on that National Express)!

I finally arrived in Ecuador after a long, but surprisingly stress-free journey, feeling a little light-headed (the city is located at an altitude of about 3000m) but otherwise no worse for wear.

To my surprise - and delight - there was a grizzled old Quiteño waiting in the arrivals area holding a placard with something vaguely similar to my name on it (at least I hope I was the intended target of a sign with ´Señor Parlav Soo´ written on it - if not, my sincerest apologies to you Mr. Soo for so shamelessly jacking your ride..). We hopped into a car and he took me to my Spanish School. From there, once I´d overcome a couple of small obstacles (namely my complete lack of español and the fact that I had no idea where I was), I stumbled into the home of the Perreira family, with whom the School´s Director had arranged for me to stay.

The Perreira family - consisting of Yada & Alfonso, Paul, 17, Carlos, 12, Dorian, 5, and Francesca, 1 - seem very friendly and I´m looking forward to staying with them over the next few weeks.

My only small complaint is about the weather here - in the mornings and early afternoons, it´s about 22 degrees and sunny, but then, with an inevitability that I´ve already grown weary of, the heavens open and it absolutely pisses it down. I took the liberty of mentioning this to my teacher, whose response was something along the lines of "You bloody Ingleses, always talking about the weather". I guess some things never change!

Pranav