Traveling to Ecuador: the people, the rituals and el pollo

Having lived in Manhattan for a number of years, I feel I am at least aware of Spanish culture. So, while this trip to Ecuador is both my first to the country and to South America, I am not without some devices. However, I have to admit that even the flight over held some interesting excitement.

Scene:older woman next to me is speaking in soft, but more desperate tones to the women around her. To her left by the window is a pregnant woman who keeps looking at the back of the plane. To my left over the aisle is a woman furiously trying to get every steward and passenger around her to pay attention to her request. Her teenage son is sitting some rows back and she is actively trying to get people to move their seats. Next to her is the husband of the woman next to me.

In the tangle of rather simple Spanish (i.e. if I can understand the goings on, it cannot be complicated), I realize the best action I can take is to stay put and let the drama unfold around me - or risk loosing my aisle seat in the front of the plane - a Chinese fire drill, if you will. And just as the plane is ready to pull away from the gate, there are rousing calls of "gracias" and some movement resulting in the teenager seating one row ahead of his mother - the happiest guy on the plane.

We land in Costa Rica for an hour layover with no more than a few hours sleep - 6:20 AM flight out of JFK. (If these are your travel plans, the only question you need ask is should I sleep a few hours or not? Response: sleep, even if a few hours. You will need it to make it through the layover, customs line, drive to hotel and some sort of food before crashing.)

Our landing in Costa Rica seemed like any other. But, then I started hearing noises. It was clapping that seemed to get more emphatic the more we slowed down. At first I thought nothing of it. Strange, but nothing to worry about.

My body was in that ¨I definitely could sleep more but I´m excited about the trip¨ and my brain was in that blissful slow motion mode where you realize everyone around you is speaking in another language and that means you must be on another trip - yeah!

As we board the next flight to our final Quito destination, again the same exact players, in the same roles seem to play out the same scene (with different extras as the flight crew) - same discussions, same frustrations about who will move and almost the same outcome, except this time, the pregnant lady does not find the intended seat in the back.

Ritual:
As everyone settles into their seats (including the teenager still a blissful full row away from his protective mother), the two women next to me - one a mother and one about to be a mother, cross themselves as we take off. Two thoughts: this is either now the safest plane ever or they are the only ones making this heap of metal safe.

This flight was much shorter (no doubt the crossing helped with that too - I only wish they could have done something about the customs line on arrival) - but as with all flights outside the US we still had a light snack and full beverage service and I was once again reminded why I love to travel internationally. Surprisingly, it resulted in an even more energetic round of applause on impact (perhaps also more warranted due to the altitude, landing in a city and the particularly short runways...) Truly, the ritualistic nature of Catholicism showed itself even before our arrival and after hearing the true details of a landing in Quito - I am converted!

Downtown Quito is a large, spralling city. And Colonial Quito is a cobbled maze of one way streets with houses and businesses built right to the road - the wrought iron, second and third floor balconies above providing the welcoming space that the doorways do not. As we snaked our way from the airport up and down roads that would have definitely challenged my newly reacquired stickshift driving capabilities, our crew had two thoughts - how close is the hotel and how close is the food so I can eat something (again) and go to sleep?

Turns out the answer to the second question came just at the corner up from our hotel - and just in time for a pouring rainstorm. It was Hornia where you could order a full, half, quarter (the Colonial), or junior size El Pollo with all sorts of sides for $3 USD and what you got was a small feast, even at the quarter size. We were told as we scarfed it ALL down that Ecuador does chicken much larger than ours very well. And though we were exhausted and rained out for the day, we realized we are now in heaven.