Uganda is a beautiful country. What will stay with me will mainly be the joy and laughter of the Ugandans. But my time out there was incredibly intense...

Upon arriving, we were escorted to the V.V.I.P. area of the airport (Very VIP!). We were introduced to our two bodyguards and then whisked to the hotel with full police escort: a bus of 20 interpreters with a motorcade of 2 police cars and 2 police motorbikes, barging all other traffic aside and even going the wrong way down a short bit of motorway in the face of oncoming traffic!! Some of the other interpreters are senior colleagues who have worked for all kinds of Presidents and Prime Ministers...but they said this was the first time they had seen so much police protection for interpreters!

We got to know our bodyguards and they told us they are 'body-cover security' for the President himself! Which means they accompany the President and are willing to take a bullet for him if necessary! They told us how the President sat down with them and said, "look, my interpreters are the most important people in this conference. If there is a problem with the interpreters, the whole event will be a huge embarassment because we have so many governments from Spanish and French speaking countries! You must do everything you can to protect them!

This meant that we were not allowed out to roam the city freely at any point! (But I had already been in Kampala and have a good friend there and so I managed to organise a little tour, during which we stopped off to eat as the locals do on the street. There were goats and chickens roaming around on the street when we arrived. When I got my plate of roast goat, I was told that there was now one less goat wandering around on the street outside!

President Museveni is one of the more jovial dictators in Africa. In the meetings, he was behaving like a caring grandpa who still has the mental wherewithal to pull out little jokes here and there. At one point, he announced that he was giving the floor to the President of Equatorial Guinea, the one and only Teodoro Obiang.  And it was my turn to interpret.

By this stage in the event, I had already interpreted a number of Presidents. So my acute nervous breakdown was not due to him being a Head of State. My internal turmoil was actually due to the fact that I knew this man and had had to deal with his government on a previous occasion.  And that episode was possibly the worst experience in my life.

I had travelled to Equatorial Guinea for work two years previously, only to be thrown out of the country after taking a selfie in front of the Presidential Palace. At the time, I thought I was just taking a photo of some nice African flowers - I had no idea that Obiang lived behind the massive wall. The commotion that followed meant that I was harassed on the street by seven heavily-armed soldiers, threatened with torture, instructed to apologise in person to the Head of the National Army and then put in lockdown in my hotel for over a week. If you want to know the kind of government I'm talking about, do an online search for "human rights abuses in Equatorial Guinea".

So, you can imagine that I was somewhat nervous when I realised that I would be the official voice of Africa's most notorious dictator, a man who has been in power for over 40 years, having murdered his own uncle in a horrifying manner to become President. (Look up his preferred murder method if you're not squeamish!)  And I am now a persona non grata for him. What would happen if I made a mistake interpreting his speech? What if Obiang were to complain about the interpretation? Would I be carted away for that round of torture that his soldiers had so eagerly promised me back in Malabo? Would my face appear in newspapers as 'that interpreter' who mysteriously disappeared after a slight mishap while working?

Luckily, despite my nerves and shakey voice, I managed to remember that little phrase that keeps me going as an interpreter, "all you need to do is to say what he's saying. Just do that and you'll be fine".

It was 8 days packed with meetings and we barely had any time for anything but work. But the hotel was amazing...possibly the best one I've ever stayed in, anywhere. It had a real African feel with symbolism and hints of different parts of Africa in all the decor, food and surroundings. All the staff seemed to parade that very African smile and joy 100% of the time!

The summit was the biggest international event held in Uganda since the Queen and Prince Charles visited for the Commonwealth Summit in 2007. Our event was considered much bigger than the Pope's visit, for example. So, the security was crazy.

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.

Life at 9,300 feet

Have you ever climbed to the highest point of the British isles? It's Ben Nevis at 4,400 feet. If you can imagine doubling that altitude you are still not at the height at which Ecuadorians carry out their day to day business in their capital city.

A newcomer to Quito notices the difference straight away, and some people can become very ill from the altitude. The moment I stepped off the plane the light, crisp air was very apparent and climbing a simple flight of stairs or walking at a brisk pace proved challenging. During my first week I had to remind myself not to laugh too hard and sometimes while sitting still reading I had to remind myself to take deeper breaths - otherwise I would suddenly need to gasp for air. On my second day I went against all advice and joined in a game of football, but after a minute or two of breathless dizziness accepted that even being goalkeeper could be challenging.

Quito is in fact in a valley, and the surrounding mountains and volcanoes rise a few thousand feet higher. The highest point in Ecuador soars to an astounding 20,600 feet and can be considered the highest point on planet Earth, since its position near the Equator means it is further away from the centre of the Earth than the peak of Mount Everest.

Living in a country of such natural extremes is breathtaking in more ways than one, and I haven't even gone near the Amazonian Rainforest or the world-famous Galapagos Islands yet. Nature is not the only source of surprises round here, however. Going about my daily life is proving very interesting...

Going by car to the school where I work everyday has turned out to be a rich source of intrigue. Road signs barely seem to exist in this country, and the same is true for road markings painted on the street. Drivers often have to rely on divine inspiration in order to find their way while at the same time making rough estimates as to which lane they are in and battling with the hooting and aggressive barging of other drivers. Many cars have no registration plate and Ecuadorians are puzzled as to why I find this strange. Exhaust fumes are black and much more copious than in Europe: I really don't know what they do to their engines to create such a polluting haze but I'm sure Greenpeace wouldn't be happy about it.

It is apparently normal to see adults and children clinging onto the back of vehicles hitching a ride or sitting on the back edge of a pick-up truck with barely anything to hold on to. I have even seen this at high speed on the highways and dread the day in which I witness a child lose their grip.

Poverty is very visible and at every set of traffic lights men, women and children take the opportunity to approach cars offering everything from newspapers to coconuts or a quick juggling show. The young children of these vendors are sometimes left to play on the ridge that separates six lanes of traffic inhaling black fumes day in, day out.

The streets are not safe and most shops and public buildings have an armed guard waiting for trouble. Most of the students in the residence I am living in have some story of when they were mugged or attacked. One of my fellow English teachers even told me about when he was kidnapped by the legendary FARC guerillas, who normally operate in Colombia but sometimes cross the border into Ecuador.

It is only my ninth day in Latin America. I have seen a lot but there is plenty more to see. This afternoon I am going to visit leprosy sufferers in a local hospital. Stay tuned.

Quito Bonito

My South American adventure seemed to have stopped before it had even started, "I'm sorry sir, you cannot board this plane. The Immigration Authorities in Ecuador will fine us heavily if we allow you to do so."



It was midnight and I had just arrived in Madrid. My journey from London to Quito involved what I thought would be a simple stopover in Spain. It looked like I wasn't getting any further than the departure lounge, however.

"So what am I supposed to do, sleep in the airport and beg until I get enough to afford the next flight to Quito? I'm supposed to be working out there, teaching kids...I'm going to lose the job if I don't get there in the next few days!"

"I'm sorry sir, please stand back, we must let the other passengers board the plane."

I tried to stay calm, telling myself that the whole affair would sort itself out. I pleaded with the Supervisor for another twenty minutes, but before I knew it I was the only soul left in the departure lounge, staring dumbfounded at the runway as my flight across the Atlantic took off before my very eyes.

I had a one-way plane ticket to Quito, and although a visa is not necessary to enter Ecuador, proof must be shown that you are going to leave the country after 90 days. The Supervisor told me that without a ticket out of Ecuador there was no way I could be allowed into the country. I tried to convince her that I would buy a plane ticket out of Ecuador over the phone before encountering the Immigration Authorities. In my despair and in true South American style I think I even hinted at a tidy bribe. The staff of LAN airways was pretty convinced that I would be sleeping in Madrid that night, however.

It was midnight, I was alone and thousands of miles away from my destination. I started considering my options:

a.) Collapse in despair and drown myself in my own tears on the nicely polished airport floor. Very tempting.
b.) Invent some kind of flying machine. Slightly more challenging.
c.) Forget about Ecuador. It's far away anyway. Spain is cool, I could just stay in Madrid for the foreseeable future...maybe join a circus?
d.) Something else.

The first three options each had their own appeal but I decided to go for the fourth. Barajas airport is pretty large and at that time of night pretty empty. I spent an hour or so wandering around the terminals talking to anyone who wanted to listen to my story and asking for help. One lady, a member of the airport staff, had an idea.

"So your first plane from London to Madrid came in late?"

"Yeah, only by a few minutes though."

"Well, you can say that because of the delay you missed the connecting flight to Ecuador. The airline then has to put you up in a hotel until the next flight. They'll give you food, free phone calls and you won't have to pay for the next flight to Quito."

"Genuis! Life saver! You legend!"

Convincing the airline to give me these luxuries proved a little more difficult, however. I spent the next eternity going from one office to another. Each time I was told, "Sorry we can't help you with that. My colleague might be able to help you out." I patiently explained my situation again and again and eventually, a couple of hours later, found myself munching away on a courtesy sandwich in a four-star hotel.

I spent the next day in the airport, once again going from one office to another sorting myself out. I managed to get myself booked in for the next flight to Quito that evening, and then set about booking a ticket out of Ecuador in order to comply with immigration rules. I didn't want to pay for a flight all the way back to London so I got myself a ticket to Colombia, Ecuador's neighbour, with the hope that I would be able to reimburse it upon arrival in Ecuador. The only remaining problem was now my luggage - nobody seemed to know if it was somewhere in Madrid airport or rather on the other side of the Atlantic.

That evening I checked into my flight and was told that I would be upgraded to Business Class for all the trouble caused. Even though it was kind of my fault for not having the right ticket in the first place.

Thirteen hours later, I set eyes on Quito for the first time. Quito airport is right in the city, so as you're landing you get a great view of the place and the mountains and volcanoes that surround the city. It really was breathtaking. I even found my luggage after landing. Things were looking up, the journey was over and the adventure about to begin...