Naivety vs. disingenuousness on the streets of Quito

The weirdest story happened to me this week. I was on my way to work, just a block from my office, when a man on the street asked me to help him find a road. It turned out to be the very road we were on, but I wasn't able to locate the pharmacy he was looking for. He identified himself as coming from the province of Azuay, illiterate and a first-timer in the city of Quito (henceforth he shall be called province-guy). When I told him there was another pharmacy three blocks up the road, another man walked by, whom province-guy asked the same question. That man was on his way to run some errands for work, wore a tie and a leather jacket (henceforth he shall be called tie-guy), and told him the same thing as I had.

Then the story began: province-guy had to ask Dr. Luis from the pharmacy for help with a task his boss had given him, he explained. To which tie-guy asks if he has some address, which could help us locate Dr. Luis. Province-guy gives a small piece of paper, addressed to Dr. Luis, with the request to help province-guy to cash the cheque he has, but only to give him a third part of it, and split the rest between the two of them. That was weird, to say the least, so tie-guy asks province-guy to show what the cheque is all about. He pulls out of his jacket a lottery-ticket, triggering the reaction from tie-guy that we should check the results of the ticket in a shop nearby. Province-guy asks us for help in this endeavour, as he cannot read. He also tells us that when he got the ticket last week, his boss had tried to buy off his ticket for 10,000 USD, but that he had refused, to which his boss had cornered him and started to hit him with his leather belt. Now he was in Quito, on his own, without any acquaintances or any knowledge of the city.

I accept to accompany them to verify the lottery ticket, thinking province-guy doesn't fully trust tie-guy and wants a third party to witness. Tie-guy leaves us a moment alone to fetch a copy of the lottery-results of July 31st in the shop around the corner, while I stay with province-guy waiting in the street. Province-guy marvels at my ability to read and talks in the meantime about how his grandmother kept on insisting he'd be careful in Quito, because the city is full of malicious people, and that he was grateful to us for helping him. Tie-guy returns with a copy of the results, and my-oh-my, it turns out to be the winning lottery ticket, for the grand total of 200,000 USD! This made province-guy feel somewhat uneasy, what to do now, so he offered each of us 3,000 USD to accompany him and cash the prize money. Before accepting our help, however, he needed to know if we were able to provide for our daily meal, because his grandmother had told him only to trust people who can provide for their own daily meal. To which tie-guy says that he owns a shop nearby, in which he has 1,500 USD, and that he has some 5,000 USD on his bank account. I said that it was no-one's business how much money I had, to which province-guy replies that this is they way people in the province know how to truly trust someone. In fact, before coming to Quito, his grandmother had shown him how to do it, while pulling up her mattress and reveiling all her savings. Tie-guy backs up the story, urging me to understand that this is how people from the province reason, and that he'd go fetch his bank-records to proove his solvency. That was enough of fun and frolics to me, so at that point I wished them the best of luck and bode them farewell.

Now you see it, now you don't! Probably the second oldest profession in town... (source)

The two men really pulled of a great piece of very convincing theater, I must admit. There were always new elements added to the story that appealed to my goodwill and sense of empathy, such as the illiteracy of the province-guy lost in the big city, his boss hitting him with a belt, fear of being scammed by Dr. Luis, the hard-working shop-owner who offers to help province-guy. It took me a while to digest the whole story, but looking at it with hindsight, there were so many inconsistencies in the story, which I didn't take properly into account at the moment itself due to a feeling of compassion and the urge to counter the general tendency to consider any person asking you for something on the street as having bad intentions. But of course: why would the family of province-guy send him on his own, they sure must have some relative who can read and who could help him? Why would province-guy trust his boss and his pharmacist friend, after what his boss had done to him? Why telling he got the ticket last week, when the 31st of July was two weeks ago? Why insisting on me accompanying them, while it is obvious I don't know anything in relation to the matter presented? And for sure, the lottery results turned out to be a fake, a quick search on the official lottery website revealed.

I felt pretty stupid afterwards - after all, I had sensed from early on something wasn't right; I should have just walked away from the start. I was very lucky, indeed, that nothing bad had happened to me, because at some point in this story they would have pulled out scopolamine or some other rape drug, in order to rob me or inflict whatever other calamity on me. But I just couldn't help fighting the common-place scaremongering not to trust anybody on the street asking you for something. I guess this is one of the toughest parts of living here in Quito, the fact that your first reaction with inter-personal contact should be that of distrust instead of trust, also in circumstances that should generate trust. Even a secure, licensed taxi ride can turn into a secuestro exprés, taking you on a millionaire tour to get as much money as possible out of ATMs with your bank cards (true story!). I refuse to become paranoic, distrusting every single person on the street, because that would make life unliveable to me. I just hope there's a guardian angel out there inspiring me in time to run when I have to...

The sum of steps is more than a summit reached

It was a chilly and clouded morning, that Sunday the 5th of July. We had been climbing for almost 7 hours in the darkness of a windy Ecuadorian summer night, our steps lit by ice-topped headlights and our hearts pumping to fight the lack of oxygen. I had fallen several times into glacier cracks en route. Climbing out of them demanded an extra toll on my already low energy levels; staring into them and seeing nothing but a black void made me appreciate even more the special training we had received in glacier-climbing. It was 7am on the dots: we had made it to the top of the southern slope of the Cotopaxi, Ecuador's second highest and still active volcano. 5860 meters above sea level, and all I could do was drop dead, exhausted by this supra-humane nocturnal effort.

Camera freeze at 5860m - summit reached!

I had always enjoyed hiking in the mountains. At high-school, two teachers used to organise ten-day sports-and-hiking camps in the Austrian Alps, which I joined several times. I hadn't been much in the mountains since, but it only felt natural for me to join a group of friends who wanted to climb the Cotopaxi three weeks into my fresh arrival in Ecuador. I thoroughly enjoyed that experience - although unsuccessful due to rather harsh weather conditions - but I also quickly realised that climbing at 5000 meters above sea level is a different cup of tea from hiking at 2000 meters.

Inspired by the ever-present mountains and volcanoes that I can see from my office on a clear day, and the unique páramo-ecosystem typical of the Andes in this part of the continent, I decided to continue the hiking and step it up to the next level. So I joined the Rocks meet ice climbing programme of Ruta Cero, a local agency that organises these kind of adventure trips. The goal was clear: get yourself prepared, both physically and technically, to reach the highest, snow-capped tops of Ecuador's awe-inspiring volcanoes. The remaining third part required to reach this objective - mental perseverance - was something you had to come up with yourself.

Although we started off with a huge group, only 18 of us made it to the first big challenge, the Cayambe volcano (5790m). There we got our final lesson of the programme, taught to us by Mother Nature herself: when the volcano doesn't let you to reach her summit, there's nothing you can do about it. Relentless stormy winds of up to 120km/h, gently carressing our faces with icy hail, and temperatures of 15 to 20 degrees below freezing devoured our energy levels in a whimp. At 300m below the summit, mildly hallucinating from exhaustion and the lack of oxygen, our team decided it was safer to head back to the refuge instead of continuing to fight a battle we could only loose. The Cayambe had thinned our ranks to a core group of 7 die-hards - three of whom women! - who would attempt to reach Cotopaxi's southern crown...

After a three-hour hike from the refuge, we set up our tents at base-camp, at 4700m. Fortunately it hadn't started snowing yet, so it was fairly easy to do so. Meanwhile, our guides started preparing dinner in the kitchen-tent. As we joined them to warm up with a cup of tea, the atmosphere couldn't have been better. We had known each other now for quite a few trips. These kind of extreme experiences - and, honesty abides, Halli Galli - had made us bond pretty well, so we had plenty of stories and banter to share. 

Base camp 

The crew in the kitchen-tent

Being at 4700m is no excuse not to keep up with your dental hygiene!

At 6pm it was time to hit the tents and try to get some rest, for we had to rise and shine at 11pm. The biggest challenge was to get dressed in that tiny tent - think of heavy skiing shoes with laces, three layers of clothing, a climbing harness and gaiters. After a quick breakfeast - let's be honest, your stomach doesn't hold much at that time of the night - and filling up our thermoses with hot water, we were set to go at 12:15am. It wasn't until the glacier began that we put on our crampons and formed teams of three (two lunatics and a guide), tied to each other with a rope. We generally took a rest every hour and a half or so, unless something unexpected happens, such as falling into glacier cracks - a trick I turned out be quite good at.

Time to get the crampons on

The toughest part was no doubt keeping up my energy levels - and along with them, morale. Some five hours into our ascent, I didn't have much energy left. I had been eating energy bars and sucking panela for some energy boosts, but after a while exhaustion becomes so omnipresent that whatever rest I got, I literally wanted to fall down and do nothing but rest. The thin air was not only affecting my ability to breathe normally, it also got me a headache (or was it from the exhaustion?) that pushed my morale down. At that point, it was just a matter of climbing step by step, relatively straight forward when on ice, but less so on snow, where every step you make turns into half a step you slide down.

Reaching the summit was just a momentary experience. It was clouded and everybody was pretty freezing, making it a matter of resting a bit, grabbing that camera to make a few shots (they came with a natural frost effect) and climbing down to a more sheltered part of the slope, so we could get a decent rest before rushing down (it took us just 2 hours and half to reach base camp). As the sky started opening up a bit, we got a sight on the vast plains surrounding the Cotopaxi and we could catch a glimpse of Ecuador's highest dome, the Chimborazo. Despite the majestic sights, all I could think of was my bed and how much I wanted to rid myself from that terrible headache. (Note to self: next time just ask your companions if they have a pill for that with them.)

Reaching the summit, on two or four feet (courtesy of Diego Villacres)

Back down at the lowest part of the glacier (courtesy of Diego Villacres)

The true, lasting experience from these adventures, however, has no doubt been the companionship of the whole group. I did not just reach the summit on my own, we had all made it together. At every moment there has been someone to lift up spirits, to share your agony or to grab your thermos out of your frosted backpack. The ultimate goal is not to reach the summit, for it doesn't tell much about how you got there. No, the true challenge is to make sure that your team stays safe while crossing mental and physical boundaries you had never imagined you would cross. The reward the mountain spirits offer you is the unique experience of sharing these life-altering moments with like-minded people. They make you forget all the hardship and suffering you experienced, making you long instead for the next summit to be shared.

(I know, I shamelessly breached my five-at-a-time rule. The experience largely exceeded my self-imposed space, and this way you got a better impression of it, I hope...)