If You Were Walking Beside Me

If you were walking beside me in Quito, I’ll tell you what you would see. No, more than see. Experience.

            First of all, we’d be sweating. I promise. I have never seen the likes of these hills (and I thought Athens was bad! I see people biking, and I mentally salute them). Even to leave my urbanización, we’d be almost sliding downhill. The sidewalk would be smooth if we were lucky. I’ve tripped (and caught myself) a couple times, mostly when these pavers jut out at angles, ready to catch unaware feet. So hopefully you wouldn’t trip, or if you did, I’d catch you.

            Sometimes the sidewalk might be full of people or flowers, so we’d have to take our lives in hand a little and venture into the edge of the street. That would be nothing compared to CROSSING the street, though. We’ll get there. A florería would probably most likely be in our way. We’d dart around the buckets of flowers and kindly shopkeepers (25 rosas por un dolár!) and hustle back onto the sidewalk. We’d pass all types of people, just like in the US. Businesspeople, students, families with toddlers….We’d also see indigenous abuelitas in their colorful shawls, seated on street corners, hands outstretched, their faces creased with wrinkles. I would ask you what you thought about it, if we should give her money, talk to her, try to figure out her story…or just keep walking as I do when I don’t have you next to me. We’d see other women in traditional garb selling strawberries, blackberries, and other fresh fruit. I wouldn’t let you buy any because, as foreigners, our stomachs aren’t accustomed to the bacteria. I’ve been told diarrhea is inevitable, but let’s evade it a little longer. There are other people with small carts selling food—tamales, kebobs. We’d pass small cafés and restaurants, where an expensive meal costs more than 3 dollars.

            Eventually, we’d have to cross the street. We may have to go out of our way—crosswalks aren’t the most common. We’ll see other people just run across where they please, but I hold you back. Better safe than sorry. We walk until a bus stop affords us a nice wide crosswalk. There, a small green man says it’s ok to walk, and the signal chirps at us. But if I take you to the park or cross a street without a bus stop, or anywhere there’s a turning option….There, we’ll have to be wary. Up until 2 years ago, drivers had the right of way in Quito. They still think they do. Even if the little green man is stomping away and we begin to cross, anyone wanting to turn will accelerate through our crosswalk. It’s best just to keep moving at a steady pace (and watch out). If we take too long, we’ll hear honks.

            Actually, get used to hearing honks anyway. It’s a pretty common occurrence on the streets of Quito. See, everyone wants to get where they’re going, and they’ll do what it takes to get there. They’ll use their blinkers…and then move on over. Lanes are more suggestions than anything else, especially around curves. So are stop signs. I think a rolling stop is legal—at least, my host mother has no qualms in rolling right by a police officer every morning.

            There won’t be too much trash to step around. There may be a couple street dogs, poor things. We’ll hope they don’t get run over and remain wary of them. No good getting a series of rabies shots in a foreign country! You’ll like the graffiti that’s all over. Well, you’ll like the more artistic stuff, colorful murals that cover walls. Or maybe you’ll like the political, the satirical, the philosophical. I’ll translate for you :) Or I don’t know, you might like the graffiti of penises that seems a worldwide phenomenon. No need to translate that!

            We may get a little lightheaded from the pollution. It’s not really visible in the air, but you can smell it coming from all the traffic. Mixed with the high elevation (over 9000 feet!) and the hills we’ve been hiking, we may stop for a breather. Then, the wind will blow, and you’ll turn around. There, the clouds will be breaking over our local mountain, Pichincha. The whole sprawling city of Quito will carpet the valley and try to nestle up into the mountain. The buildings’ colors will please you—beyond white, there are all shades of coral. Maybe we stay at our vantage point until the sun sets and the clouds sink over the mountain, obscuring its top in fog. The lights of Quito will begin to wink at us warmly. And I’ll take you home because it will be getting cold.