I am writing this in a jet lagged state in our hostel room in Quito. Sarah is asleep and my body is crying out to do the same.
An early start from Gatwick on Thursday saw us arrive into Houston (or as it is more grandly known, 'George Bush Intercontinental') at around 2pm. After a two hour turnaround we ere onboard our second Continental flight, this time to Quito. Or so we thought. On approaching Quito, it was becoming increasingly bumpy and the pilot decided to take the prudent option of diverting to Guayaquil 30 minutes flight south of Quito. Unfortunately this meant arriving at 10pm and not being able to source hotel accommodation. As such, Sarah and I proceeded to spend the next 12 hours perched precariously on the banks of customer seating in the terminal, listening to Ecuadorian Cover Versions of famous Christmas Carols. Just as I was about to start digesting my own internal organs, we were told that the flight would leave at 9am and that we could pick up a free sandwich for our troubles.
After a fitful night grabbing 10 minutes chunks of sleep between Bing Crosby and he Jackson 5 Sarah and I are now firmly ensconsed in the Magic Bean in Quito and chasing some sleep before heading out to see the Otavalo market tomorrow. Hopefully this will produce a panoply of photographic opportunities as the indigenous locals ply their various wares. I'll post as soon as I have something else to report. Now....sleep...
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