Yesterday in Quito, I continued to be sick. Diarrhea cha cha cha. I had to wipe my ass so much that my asshole resembled Iraq. It was a burning mess. Donald Rumsfeld flew over me though, and assured everyone that it wasn't like all of me was on fire. Here's my list of Ralph Branca-like excuses for why I got sick. I didn't sleep Tuesday night or on Wednesday. There was a loud band playing outside of my terribly constructed hostel. That's what happens when your room is insulated by straw for 2 nights. Even the 2nd and 3rd pigs knew better. The altitude impacted me a bit at the start and the milkshake and chicken wings I downed on Thursday night didn't help. Then on Friday, David was back out there to pitch to Bobby Thompson on 1 day rest.
Today my friend Kristen and I took a bus up to Otavalo, a city known for its markets. There are many indigenous people here who I think are called Otavaños. Is that right, guy next to me? They have some of the most adorable old men and old women here. The men wear cowboyish type hats, sport a pony tail, and sometimes a poncho while the women wear eloborate jewelry on their necks, ears, and wrists, complimented by beautiful and colorful dresses. That, and sweatshirts from the Gap and I Love NY t-shirts. There are markets in the middle of the street that goes on for blocks and there are Sony stores, supermarkets (not quite the quality of Giant, more like a Safeway), and of course, internet shops that are ¨trendy.¨
I bought something from an old woman in the market which goes against my policy of not buying from old women in markets because I'm a sucker for an old woman in a market and I pay more than I should. I walked by a couple of dogs who decided that my presence was the perfect time to get it on with one another. It was awkward.