Night Time Surprises, Daytime Adventures

It was the middle of the night and I was fast asleep. I was suddenly awoken by a firm knocking on my bedroom window. I looked over and saw a hand holding a torch and an unidentifiable face peering into the room.

I had already heard plenty about the high levels of crime in Quito and had noticed how almost all houses have high walls topped with barbed wire or ferocious jagged glass to prevent burglaries.

I leapt out of my bed, my heart racing, shouting at the top of my voice to discourage my intruder. I didn't want to get close to the window through fear of being attacked, so I stood back in the darkness throwing anything and everything at the window in my blind panic. The infiltrator seemed to have got the message and moved away from the window. I took a second to get my breath back and turned on the light. I stood still feeling vulnerable, afraid and disorientated. I was bewildered as to what to do next.

Suddenly I heard noises in the bathroom next door. Maybe the intruder had chosen a different entrance? Maybe there were several of them, entering the building through various different access routes. As the bathroom door opened towards me, I stood my ground waiting to fight or flee.

"Joe, ¿qué pasa? ¿Qué haces tan asustado en calzoncillos?"

It was Fede, a fellow resident. I tried to get my breath back to explain what I had just seen,

"Someone's trying to break in! Probably armed! Burglary! What should we do?!"

As I fretted away, looking around for a weapon, a solution, or at least some clothes to put on, I failed to notice the smile on Fede's face. The smile soon turned to laughter - the gringo had fallen for it. My beloved fellow residents had played their first practical joke on me. Well done lads, hilarious.

Upon getting up the next day I confronted my next practical joke. This one however, takes place on a daily basis as a normal part of life in Quito - it's called catching the bus.

The system is in fact quite democratic - because of the lack of bus stops in the city, budding passengers gather along the roadside and hail down the bus in the middle of thick traffic. If the bus driver doesn't like the spot you've chosen, or if there aren't enough poeple to make it worth it, he will probably drive by glaring at you as if to say, "what are you doing, that's not a bus stop!". Near my residence, it seems that tradition has defined that the 'bus stop' is the outer lane of the busy three-lane roundabout. Very practical.

As the bus approaches, you have to get ready to run a little, because the driver probably doesn't feel like bringing the bus to a complete halt. The conductor leans out the front door spurring the athletes on, "come on, jump up, quickly, grab on here, you can do it". If you have any objects in your hands, are not good at running or not skilled at judging jumping distances you can probably forget about even making it onto the bus. As a sporty young male I find this ordeal challenging enough - so much for wheelchair users and the elderly.

The conductors are all young, fit men as well and seem to have a profound practical knowledge of the physical laws that control our universe. They are experts in judging velocity, momentum and gravity, and sometimes need to jump off the bus while it is travelling at high speed in order to give passengers the chance to jump off a few seconds later. The technique is very impressive - they leap off the vehicle leaning at an angle of almost 45º in order to counteract the speed of the bus. These young acrobats also possess the mental agility and manual dexterity necessary to charge every passenger the correct bus fare while each one scrambles through the crowds to jump off.

I am slowly getting used to the feeling of taking my life in my hands every time I want to cross the road, but the daily perils of bus catching will take a bit more getting used to.

Life is risky here in more ways than one, but the thrills and spills that accompany the hazards provide plenty of memorable exploits.