In Quito and over it.

Ok, clearly not really OVER it; it's a gorgeous, cosmopolitan city. But it has definitely been a shock to the Colombia-adapted system. This. City. Is. Expensive. Did you know that Ecuador's national currency is the dollar? I found that out the night before I left Colombia. It was a surreal moment for me when, after crossing the Colombia-Ecuador border on foot with all of our belongings fastened to our backs like pack mules, we were accosted by cherubial Ecuadorian men with official ''money changer'' badges around their necks, fanning thick stacks of U.S. dollar bills. I hadn't seen George or Abraham in a while.

So yeah, this place is expensive. It's kind of funny--upon arrival in Colombia, Jenn and I spent the first week or so using mental math to calculate the pesos we were spending into dollars, to have an idea. Now that we're in Ecuador, we've been calculating our dollars into pesos because they seem more familiar. And clutching our chests everytime we arrive at the total, because every coffee, every little snack, every internet café, everything except breathing in the fresh mountain air, costs exhorbitantly more than it did in any of the cities in Colombia, Cartagena included.

It's also a strange feeling to be within the majority, at least phenotypically speaking. Tall white people run amock, they travel in packs, they fumble with their fanny packs. I have to remind myself, however, I'm much more of a Helga than a Julieta, at least on the outside.

Quito is beautiful, though--don't get me wrong. It's another one of those dreamy mountain cities that rests in a small valley surrounded by fog-covered rolling hills. Classic colonial architecture abound, and the Ecuadorian people are truly beautiful. I think I'm just feeling fatigued after yesterday's 15 hour bus ride. I'm sure if I had more time (and a little more money) I'd be singing Quito's praises.


You know you've been traveling in Latin America for a while when, after being served a coffee with two good quality napkins, you squeal in delight and say ''YES! Toilet paper!'' (and then you stuff it into your already existing plastic bag filled with a collection of similar napkins you've swiped from other restaurants). It should be noted that you are now familiar enough with napkin quality to make a discerning decision. Similarly, yet another indicator is the salvaging of plastic bags (''This would be a GREAT raincoat!'').

More busing tomorrow, hooray.