As we all know, there are good hotels and there are bad hotels. The ship was like a wonderful moving hotel. My first hotel in Quito was a lovely hotel. Nestled in the historic center, it was close to Plaza Mayor (and therefore everything). It seemed relatively non-descript from the outside, but in reality, was a charming 300-year old building, both elegant and gracious. And the staff was wonderful.
Hotel Relicario del Carmen. Moderately expensive for Quito, but worth it. Sadly, I forgot to take photos of the room. It included a spectacular breakfast in the morning, which I only got to have once, since my (non-)flight left too early the second morning. The front desk folks were glad to speak to me in Spanish once they realized I could, and the Quechua couple who kept the place running were so lovely.
Down the street from the hotel, you could see the Panecillo.
Down the street the other way, you could see the Basilica.
There was lots to do in the city center, and I didn't know the area well, which is why I'd opted to stay here this time. I had offers to stay with friends, and while that was lovely, I hate imposing on people, and I also know how important it is to my family both to be able to reach me if they need to (and there was a family issue this time which might have necessitated that) and to know that I'm someplace "official" where I (and by default, they) have resources. So while staying with friends would have been more fun, staying in hotels was more dutiful and practical.
However, when the trip to Peru was cancelled, that nearly changed. The airport was fine -- despite the fact that they pulled people out of our line and then left the rest of us standing there for two hours with no information -- it wasn't really stressful. I met some lovely Australians and watched the American woman get really upset and nasty. I finally got the LAN lady to come talk with me, and the gist was that the plane wasn't cancelled as we'd heard but was only delayed. However, it was delayed enough that my connection was in serious jeopardy, as were the Australians' connections -- and they were beginning their around-the-world journey back home. So I spent some time on the phone with my colleague in Peru whom I was headed to meet.
Long story short, no one could get me to my final destination of Cuzco on any airline that day, and the first flight the next morning wasn't in time to meet my group, which was departing for Machu Picchu at 6am. As a result, my Peru trip was cancelled on the Peru side and I was advised to stay in Quito. I could still have gone, and just missed Machu Picchu -- there is certainly plenty to do in and around Cuzco -- but then I'd have to go back anyway to do Machu Picchu. Disappointing, to be sure. However, since I was already on vacation, since I had plenty still to do in Quito and lots of friends there, it was not devastating.
So after breakfast with one Australian who was headed to Cuzco to hike the Inka Trail (and he had just finished an EarthWatch program in Ecuador which sounded fabulous, so I have to look them up), I went back in to see what could be done. Here's where I met the other Aussies, trying to get home after some work in indigenous communities in Ecuador for a book that will be out in May. They work for a huge non-profit, World Vision, and I have to look them up too. They were slowly making progress on ensuring their multiple connections. I learned however, that while the airline office at the airport agreed with me and thought I should have a refund, they couldn't do anything about it at the airport, and that I would have to go to the LAN offices in town. I didn't have to go that minute, but I did have to go in the next couple of days. I thought my tickets were cancelled, and so I started to work on where to stay.
For whatever reason, I could not get the pay phones to work, so out again with the cell. (That's not going to be a pretty bill, I'm sure. Somehow, in the mix, I also managed to dial my best girl friend in Virginia, which initiated a frantic texting session on if I was OK.) While I loved the hotel I had just left, I thought I'd try the one I was going to come back to; not only was it cheaper, but I also wouldn't have to move again. I was in luck; they could take me. So off I went.
I won't say much about the hotel, aside from it being a miserable experience. It had been recommended by a friend, and the pictures I'd seen online looked really nice. In fact, I thought it reminded me of the hotel in which I'd stayed in Cuenca, four years earlier. While the front desk folks were nice, it all ended there. The rooms were nothing like that other hotel and the cleanliness left much to be desired. I have stayed in worse, to be sure, but I wasn't pleased. But what pushed me over the edge were the other guests.
I needed some sleep before heading out, and it proved to be the most horrible afternoon and evening. The hotel was set up around courtyards. Screaming. Hysterical crying. Insane phone conversations. And smoking that invaded my room and made me physically ill. I wanted to get out; I felt that I couldn't move. I hoped to hear from one of my friends. I waited. I finally couldn't take any more, and tried to go to LAN. The cab driver I got thought he was my father, and decided to take me to the other LAN office, which was closed, and then there wasn't sufficient time to make the main office. He counseled patience, that tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be. But upon return to the hotel, I decided that I could make it better. Yes, I could have stayed. Yes, I could have "toughed it out." Odds were, those folks wouldn't be there as long as I would. But I decided that this was my vacation. I didn't have to be stressed out. I didn't have to "settle" for so-so conditions. I had the power to make a change. So I searched for another hotel. I told the front desk that my plans were changing and I'd be leaving in the morning; they said no problem. I managed to sleep a bit.
In the morning, the hotel manager wasn't thrilled (here, they had a reservation for almost a week, it went up to almost two weeks, then fell to one night), but didn't give me any trouble. I took my things and found a cab to the Mariscal area, the tourist area, where my new hotel was located. I wasn't thrilled about Mariscal, but oh well.
What a difference! Spacious, attractive, light, and CLEAN!!! Storage room, a safe, a door that I felt really did lock, etc. They were ready for me even though I was an early check-in, they were insanely nice and helpful, and it just felt so much better. And while more expensive than where I'd left, it was almost exactly the same as the lovely historic place I'd first stayed.
Yup, stone in the bathroom. I love stone.
The view from my window. Mariscal is tourists. And clubs, which means it's night-club loud. I stick out plenty, but I really didn't want to be with tourists. On the plus side, no one needed to call me a taxi if I wanted to go out after dark, and the police are EVERYWHERE. Not to say there aren't problems, or that there aren't lots of police in the historic center, but I stuck out less here.
The view from my bathroom window. Yes, I also love tile.
So while I felt hugely better, and I knew that this hotel was not only a better fit but easier (not just the taxi thing, it was also much closer to the school, the organization, and all my friends, so I'd have to rely a lot less on taxis), why did I feel so badly about it? I'd lived near here the last time, so I knew the neighborhood. It was definitely more international, probably safer, as I mentioned. It's more modern, but what did that have to do with anything? It just left me with a bit of a sour taste, that I wasn't liking what it said about me switching to where I didn't want to be and yet being more comfortable there. I try to be really adaptable, especially when I travel, but I was forced to confront some issues of preference and comfort that left me displeased.
However, the change had put me in a more positive move and it was a lovely day out, so I thought I'd capitalize on the good feeling and try to tackle LAN. I found the offices and took my number. And three hours later, I left, not with a resolution, yet feeling a sense of accomplishment. The adventure started with the pronouncement that I had lost everything and that it was all my fault. It took a while, and lots of explaining on my part (using words that Eduardo kindly pointed out in my retelling to him during our first class last weekend, were not the best selection, but they nevertheless got my meaning across), and many phone calls on her part. Q: Why didn't I just change my ticket in advance. A: Why? I fully intended to take the trip. I didn't cancel it; it was cancelled for me when LAN couldn't get me there. Q: Why didn't I take the flight they'd rescheduled for me? A: My group had left. There was no way to join my group or change the dates, they tried. Why go if I had no trip? Besides, the airport office told me I'd be reimbursed because of the problem. Q: Why don't I go to the airport and exchange my tickets? A: Why? I have no trip to take now. My trip was cancelled as it was made impossible for me when the flight didn't go. I was not traveling to Peru now at all.
Finally the answer was to follow their instructions and email customer service and they would file things on their end, requesting a reimbursement. In theory, I now have a check on the way; until it arrives and I see what it's actually for, we'll hold judgment. However, considering where we started, and that I did this on my own and all in Spanish, I consider it a success. I know friends would have gone with me, but I hate having to have them bail me out (like my FedEx box two years ago) and for me, this really was a test. I may not have succeeded completely, but I feel like I passed.
By the time I got out of there, there wasn't time to go to Mindalae as I'd planned. But I did have time to have my complimentary cocktail, wander for a while, and settle in. Then we had a fabulous Cuban dinner and coffee at Cats. Overall, a day that wiped away the angst and hell of the previous 24 hours. The cabbie was right, after all.
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