Day 3

It was a horrible day with some frightening and frustrating moments. It started well enough – we woke up to a sunny morning, had a great breakfast (the hotel really has a great buffet  breakfast) and then decided to take a taxi to to centro historico and spend most of the day there. We wanted the taxi to drop us off at Plaza Grande, the main square flanked by the Presidential Palace and the Cathedral, but the streets were closed a couple of blocks before it because it was Palm Sunday and there were crowds and processions. When we got to Plaza Grande , we were in awe – it was gorgeous. It was also very full of people. Most of them had “palm”, which were green branches or bunches of flowers in small wicker “vases”. We were approached by a woman with a vest labeled “policia turistica” who warned us about pickpockets and gave us a city map. We visited the cathedral, which is covered with gold inside and very impressive. Then we walked the street of 7 crosses, which was also full of people carrying “palms”. Then we decided to visit the most famous tourist street, a very narrow La Ronda. It is described as the most beautiful street of the old town, but to us it was really disappointing and not any more beautiful than any other street. From there we walked up to Plaza Santo Domino with a big, white Santo Domingo Church. We decided to sit on a bench and consult our map for a few minutes and that’s where the horrible events unfolded. A man sitting on the bench next to Al, all of a sudden pointed to my back and said (in Spanish) that I have something on my sweather, something that looked like poop. He offered to lead us to a bathroom inside the convent so I could clean it up. We followed him to the bathroom. I took off my sweater and was cleaning it in the sink. Al was cleaning a little stain on my T-shirt. I put my backpack under the sink while we were doing it. When I looked up from the sink, my backpack was gone! And so was the “helpful” guy. We fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book. The people from the convent called the police, but all they could do was take us to their station and write a report. I was really upset initially because I was hoping they could trace my phone, but they said they could only trace phones with Ecuadorian sim cards. My backpack contained my iphone, my camera, a small wallet with maybe $25 in $1 and $5 bills, a rain jacket and an umbrella, and a couple of other things of absolutely no value to anyone but me. Luckily I left my passport, credit cards and most of the money in hotel safe. The biggest lesson learnt out of this was that both Al and I need to have each other’s phone in a group so we can track them. He couldn’t track mine because he wasn’t authorized. Apple was no help even when I wanted to lock my stolen phone. Luckily, T-Mobile, my phone provider, locked my phone and made it unusable. They said that the thieves will never be able to use it; all they can do is sell it for parts.

After getting back to the hotel in style in a police car, having a drink and taking care of the phone business, we started looking at the bright side: my camera was old and I was thinking of getting a new one – now I will, I will have to buy a backpack at the market in Otavalo because I have nothing to carry stuff in; once we get back I’ll also get a brand new phone. The things that I can’t replace and I very much regret losing are  -- my favorite scarf that I bought in Phnom Penh in 2010 and took with me EVERYWHERE; a small cosmetic bag made or deer skin that I got from my friend Kazuo before he died and pictures on my phone and camera. There will be no pictures from the old town today….

After a drink and an unwind we went out to dinner. We were met with the first downpour of our visit.  The pizza restaurant up the street was great. It was a family restaurant all there including the cutest puppy named Pinky.