Warming up to Quito

There is a particular dawn chorus in the San Juan district of Quito. Long before the alarm goes off, we are serenaded by dogs howling and barking (I am sure because they are cooped up in their homes and gardens rather than free to roam the streets), people yelling, and vehicles driving back and forth, tooting their horns repetitively and incessantly (presumably alerting us to the wares they have for sale). This had us restless and awake from 5am.

Today the earlier awakening worked in our favour, so that we had plenty of time to eat, dress, and get ourselves down to the Community Hostel, which runs a daily walking tour of el centro histórico.

Walking to the historic centre

Looking over the city

Our guide, Ovi, sporting dreads that earn him the nickname "Bob Marley" on the streets of Quito, took us first to the nearby Mercado Central.

No worries

We had visited this the previous day on our self-guided tour, and found a much different experience to the markets of Bolivia. Inside a two-storey building, well-maintained market stalls sell flowers - a bunch of five roses will set you back only one dollar - neat piles of fruit and vegetables, and, by far the majority, cooked food, such as caldo de pata, made with cow's hooves.

Hooves for sale

Since little is vegetarian-friendly in the market - including the famous "Don Jimmy" deep-fried corvina (sea bass) - we tried freshly blended juices of guanábana and blackberry (mora) with coconut milk.

Juice lady

From the market, we processed through the plazas of the old town learning of its history. Plaza de la Independencía (also Plaza Grande) celebrates the struggle of the country that was the leading light in the fight for independence from Spain - hence Quito's nickname, Luz de América. The people called for independence as early as 1809, finally achieving it in May of 1822.

Liberty statue on Plaza Grande

Quito was also the centre of the 'discovery' of the Amazon river, as the Spanish expedition left from here in 1541 to discover cinnamon and gold - in search of the fabled city 'El Dorado' - but found only the largest Río Amazonas. The group reached the river after 12 months' gruesome travel involving suffering, starvation, and attack from the increasingly belligerent natives, whose villages were sacked and burned by the travelling conquistadors.

Government Palace

These tales and more were recounted under much more favourable conditions than we had arrived to. The temperature felt less chilly as the grey cloud dissipated, allowing the colour of the city's buildings to enliven the streets.

Colourful Quito

The streets are full of small artisanal shops and, on one particular road, the vendors specialise in the thing that unites the South American palate: sugar. The confectioners here sell sweets made from sesame seeds, peanuts, and coconut, all bound together with panela (unrefined sugar), as well as chewy membrilla (quince jelly), crumbly dulce de leche fudge, as well as the disconcertingly green and tooth-achingly sweet higo confitado (balls of candied fig pieces).

Dulces

We bought some of the sugary snacks, paying with US dollars which is the first time since Cambodia that we have used the familiar-yet-foreign currency. However, whereas in Cambodia the dollar shared place with the other 'official currency', the riel, Ecuador jettisoned its own lucre - named after the liberatador Mariscal Sucre - in 2000, in favour of the greenback. This followed a period of hyperinflation that saw the exchange rate rocket from 15 sucres to the dollar in 1950 up to 25,000 sucres before it was withdrawn from circulation.

Plaza San Francisco

Inside the cathedral

Our guide ended by inviting us to lunch at a typical almuerzo place that he frequents, but we declined knowing that there would be little in the way of vegetarian catering. Instead, we took lunch in a place equally popular with the local crowd, Ari 'comida sana'. The 'healthy food' (for $2.50) turned out to be a menu of lentil and yuca soup, followed by tallerin - long pasta, contrast fideo (short pasta) - with vegetables and fake meat. A small banana fritter at the side had the taste and appearance of dessert that had inadvertently crept onto the plate, but the true dessert was a chocolate drink and a slice of spiced apple.

Comida sana

The winged Virgin of Quito tops El Panecillo - a round hill that resembles a small bread bun after which it takes its name - and can be seen from much of the city, especially along the avenue Venezuela, which runs from its base, through the historic centre, to the Basilica del Voto Nacional.

View to the south - El Panecillo

View to the north - La Basilica

We climbed the steps of the basilica's towers, the last few metres of which require climbing near-vertical metal rungs, for a spectacular view of Quito and of the Panecillo through its towers.

View from the top of the basilica

Unusually, the decoration of the church exterior eschews the typical gargoyles in favour of aardvarks, monkeys, crocodiles, and pumas.

Well, why not?

At home, I got to grips with the limited kitchen facilities to turn out a small dinner of tofu and vegetables on rice. I shared commiserations with the other guest who turned up while I was cooking to prepare his own meal - predictably pasta and tomato sauce - as I had monopolised both pans. He passed favourable comments on our food, but had a long wait for his own, as the rice (brown ) takes an age to cook at this altitude.

Long-awaited sustenance

Good Beer, Bad Coffee

Moving is a traumatic time. This might sound melodramatic - indeed, it is, as the trauma is very mild - but having settled for so long in one location, our roots tend to have spread and, like a plant being repotted into unfamiliar soil, it takes some time for us to harmonise with our new environment.

Unlike our tranquil and isolated cottage on a hill in Cusco, our new home is more of a basic hostel, with several other guests and the attendant noise of both them and the city. However, the temperatures at night do not fall as low as Peru, possibly owing to the lower altitude.

For breakfast this morning we tried the eponymous pastries from local pastelería, Quesadillas de San Juan. Unlike the Mexican foodstuff of the same name, quesadillas in Ecuador are a sweet flat sponge cake partly wrapped in a pentagonal thin pastry crust. With the delicacy, we had our first coffee in the country, which was overly milky.

Quesadillas Ecuador style

Lunch at Hare Krishna restaurant and cultural centre, Govinda, in the historic centre proved to be a cheap and nutritious almuerzo of the kind we have become used to in South America. Potato soup, followed by a simple but tasty lentil stew with brown rice and vegetables, was accompanied by naranjilla juice - a kind of fruit that resembles a small persimmon but has a much tarter taste - and a portion of dense vegan chocolate cake.

Govinda lunch

We wandered the streets of the old town, arranged, as usual for Spanish settlements, on a grid, draped over the natural undulations of the Pichincha region's landscape. Much more than anywhere we have so far visited, we found ourselves rounding a corner and facing a near-vertical pavement.

Taking a break, we ventured another attempt at coffee - being fans of the Ecuadorian beans we can buy at home - but found a travesty against the name. While being far from a coffee snob, I do refuse to drink the instant variety, so it was with no small amount of dismay that I was presented with "café con leche" comprising a mug of warm milk and a glass jar, more used to containing vinegar or oil, full of coffee essence. The dark liquid had the effect of gravy browning, changing the colour of the milk, but not the taste.

Coffee badness

Fortunately, the stop in the afternoon, at Bandido Brewing, met with greater success. Over a basket of plain popcorn, which seems to be served as a matter of course on most tables, we supped some excellent ale produced in house.

Bandido brewpub

La Gua.P.A., flavoured with the local guasuya tea leaf, was an excellently hopped pale, which actually outshone the 'double' version of their Hop Rey IPA. However, the star was undoubtedly a guest blackberry porter (7.7%) that was rich and full-bodied with brambly flavour, although I failed to find out its origin.

Beer and popcorn

First impressions of Quito are that, like many capital cities, it is a little grey and grimy around the edges. This impression isn't helped by the clouds, which seem to persistently hand around the tops of the surrounding hills and descend into the vale of the city.

We returned to our poorly appointed shared kitchen, and were glad to have eaten a large meal in the middle of the day. Having left behind a well-equipped kitchen that was shamefully neglected owing to the magnificent cuisine available elsewhere in Cusco, it is ironic that we shall probably find ourselves cooking for ourselves more here.

I made an excursion to the well-stocked supermarket, Supermaxi, to acquire some Ecuadorian craft beers, which proved to be a fairly humdrum selection from the likes of Camino del Sol, Páramo, Sabai, and Ballesta. Sadly, they were not a patch on the output from Bandido.

Quito Time!

Regretfully, it was time to move on from Cusco today. We woke before 5am and were met by Maestro Florencio, who helped us with our bags to the taxi. The sky was already lightening as we made our way the short distance to the city's airport, where it seemed that every other passenger was a British teenager, whose mouths loud as their trousers.

We quietly ate some pastries we had picked up and pretended not to be British, until it was time board the LAN flight to Lima. On the aircraft, we were treated to some chirpy 'elevator-style' bossa nova, until we took off and got an eyeful of the wrinkly ground surrounding Cusco, small white lines zig-zagging over its surface denoting paths to remote hilltop locations.

Lima, where military parades for the fiestas patrias were taking place, was covered in a grey pall of cloud. The view in, unlike the splendid aerial vista of Cusco, showed little to recommend the city. We spent what little time we had between flights relaxing in the airport's Sumaq lounge, where we enjoyed a pisco sour from the bar - it was 10:30am but the last opportunity for a genuine Peruvian cocktail - an orange juicing machine, and a coffee maker that played a blast of music every time it dispensed a cup and serenaded me with a snippet of Mas Que Nada while it vended a cappuccino. With such a wealth of drinks from which to choose, I happily bypassed the Inca Kola, which I had tried preciously, and which is apparently flavoured with lemongrass, but instead looks and tastes like diabetic's urine.

Inca Kola

To complement the liquid servings, a selection of salad ingredients was laid out, with no appearance from the classic 'salad trinity', lettuce, tomato, and cucumber - why do we in Britain think these are required features of a salad? - and a healthy(!) selection of cakes, which more than made up for the desultory sandwich offered onboard the onward Quito-bound flight with LAN, which of course turned out to contain chicken.

After the two hops, we arrived in Quito airport. Not quite so conveniently situated - the old airport within the city is now a park - we organised to be met by our young host, Alejandro, to take us to our accommodation, the Blue Door. Once again, we found ourselves on top of a hill, this time in Quito's San Juan district. Although only 2,900m elevation - contrast Cusco's 3,400m - we still had a good view over the town in a pleasant neighbourhood near a stunning basilica. The house itself is a collection of rooms facing onto an open courtyard, much as a Moroccan-style riad.

Blue Door

Having arrived close to evening, we settled only briefly before exiting and navigating our way to La Mariscal area of town, which is replete with restaurants but also tourists. Hoping for a tofu and SE Asian fix, we went straight to Uncle Ho's, whose walls are plastered with pictures of the venerated Vietnamese leader. The menu presented an unprepossessing mix of Ecuadorian, Thai, and Vietnamese cuisine, but an initial cà phê sữa đá (iced coffee) was surprisingly authentic, albeit less strong than we had tasted on the other side of the planet. Summer rolls were familiar, even if the peanut sauce lacked any kind if spice. In fact, the quintessential Thai spice and Vietnamese flavour was largely absent from the tofu green curry (which came with some incongruous Mediterranean vegetables) and a weird tofu and mushroom skewer braised in a soy-based sauce, which were both relatively bland. I suppose it is unfair to expect authentic cuisine outside of the country of origin, and Uncle Ho's presented a frankly unexciting fusion of Asian and Latin American flavours.

Vietnamese food, Ecuador style

Despite being a capital city, Quito feels relatively safe, so we decided to make the return journey on foot. This would have been fine, apart from an unnecessary detour onto Av. 6 Deciembre*, which precipitated a close encounter with a large man kicking off in a local café and turning over the counter in spectacular, if fearsome, style. This was an inauspicious introduction to Quito and we quickened our pace home after that with mixed emotions about leaving the safe haven of Cusco for the (apparently) mean streets of Quito.

* The street names of Quito are, like many places in South America, a mixture of place names (Venezuela, Uruguay, Mexico, Canada), historical dates (9th October, 10th August, 6th December, 12th October) and important figures (José Mejía, José Olmeda, José Sucre, Juan Montúfar, Juan Larrea**).

** It's odd just how many people are called either Juan or José - one chap (fittingly the first president of Ecuador) even managed a double whammy with Juan José Flores.

Independence Day Peru

Today is the official day of independence during this period of Peru's fiestas patrias. Independence from the Spanish was won by Argentine José de San Martín and declared on this day in 1821. Throughout the month of July, the towns and cities of Peru are festooned with the red-and-white bicolour. However, much of today's celebrations are focused on the capital, Lima, with the continuing tradition of the presidential address.

As this was our last day in Cusco before leaving Peru, we spent the morning packing up the items that we have managed to spread all over the bungalow we have been renting and which, miraculously, seem to fit back into our bags. Having cleaned and tidied away much of the evidence of our month-long stay, we walked into town for the last time to see what independence day in Cusco would look like.

Viewed from above on the downhill path, the city seemed eerily quiet. Normally there is some noise, whether it be cheers from the crowds at the football stadium, or a parade in the main square, but I imagine today arriving into empty streets with shuttered shops. Indeed, many of the small tiendas in upper San Blas were closed up for the feriado, but as we approached the centre of town, we were greeted by the same scene of tourists clammering for a photo in front of the infamous "twelve-angle stone" or with a cute lamb carried by a lady in traditional dress, or being propositioned by the army of ladies offering "masajes".

The 12-angle stone: who can fathom its power?

Despite the central shops, bars, and restaurants doing the same amount of trade as any other day, the Plaza de Armas remained resolutely free of dancing, parades, or music. As with many 'national days' in countries we have visited, celebrations tend to precede the official date, while the holiday itself is time to recover or, in the most extreme case of Bali's Nyepi, a day of absolute, enforced silence following the preceding day's Ogo Ogo festivities. This should come as little surprise, as New Year in many countries is celebrated fervently on its eve, while a day of rest follows.

Just in case celebrations spontaneously kicked off in the square - as is their wont - we took up position at Papacho's overlooking the potential proceedings. While the darkened, neon-lit burger joint served up temping platters of fried and grilled dishes, their tempting aromas wafting in our direction, we were saving ourselves for a final crack at Green Point's menu. We settled, instead, on a frothing glass of Cusqueña (or two) out of a kind of vicarious patriotism. In actual fact, the wheat (trigo) and dark (negra) versions of the local beer are both inoffensively quaffable.

With no apparent show forthcoming on the square, we repaired happily to our second home in Cusco, Green Point. After yesterday's vain hunt for the elusive Peruvian delicacy, causa - a layered potato, avocado, and chicken dush - in vegetarian form, we stumbled upon it hidden in plain sight, albeit under the name "papas enrolladas", on Green Point's menu. The presentation was slightly different, with the yellow, lime and ají amarillo-seasoned potato rolled around the filling and wrapped in thinly sliced cucumber, but its was unmistakably the same dish.

Causita

Sadly, after the build-up, the causita bites were overshadowed by the other appetiser, both in presentation and taste, of vegan temaki sushi cones. Presented in a wooden stand, which could well have been plucked from a chemistry lab, the nori rolls reminded us just how much we like and miss Asian cuisine.

Temaki

How to follow these starters? With another modern classic, lomo saltado, which fuses the Andean penchant for rice, potatoes and meat (in this case strips of seitan), with the Chinese stir-fry style of cooking and soy sauce seasoning. The saltado (meaning sautéed) was served in the pan, with the 'meat', onions and peppers soaking in the soy broth, while the fried potatoes were layered on top. With a Green Point 'house' salad on the side, featuring avocado and smoked aubergine (berenjena ahumada) 'bruschetta', conspired to defeat us, but meant that we had plenty to box up and take away for supper.

Green Point house salad

As the sun set we walked home, watching marching bands distribute themselves among the local churches. It seems that festivities are not centralised on these days; rather, each community finds its own way to celebrate.

He marched them up to the top of the hill...

The sun sets on independence day

San Cristóbal

We treated ourselves this morning to breakfast out at Café Punchay. This was more an excuse to use the WiFi and sit in the peaceful courtyard for the morning, but the desayuno set was a simple combination of scrambled eggs (I snigger immaturely whenever saying huevos revueltos, imagining ordering revolting eggs) and some of the best ciabatta bread I have tasted, with coffee and banana-mango juice.

The eggs are revolting

Having whiled away a few hours there, we segued directly to lunch at Café Morena. While by no means expensive, this restaurant is by far the most expensive place we have eaten in during our stay in Cusco. However, we came to try the causa (or causita) - a classic Peruvian cold dish of layers of yellow potato flavoured with lime and yellow pepper, filled with avocado and (in some cases) tuna or chicken mayonnaise. Morena's menu promised a vegetarian version, but today there was none. Disappointed, I settled on a portobello mushroom 'sandwich', which was good but nothing terribly special.

Fancy serving comes to Peru

K opted for quinoa chaufa - a fusion of Asian flavours with the quintessential Andean grain. A couple of pisco sours - one flavoured with chicha morada, the other with passion fruit - were colourful, flavoursome, and wonderfully presented.

Chicha morada pisco sour

As yesterday was the festival of Santa Ana, so today was a similar celebration of the patron saint of travellers, Saint Christopher (San Cristóbal). Climbing yet another of Cusco's near-vertical streets, we arrive at the church of the same name. Offering a superb view over the city centre, the square in front of the church was home to a collection of cusqueños in an already advanced state of revelry. There was, as yesterday, plenty of drinking (Cusqueña: "La cerveza de los Puruanos"), eating of roast guinea pig and other fatty foods, and dancing.

View over Plaza de Armas

Festivities at San Cristóbal

Unlike yesterday's festivities, there were no dancing troupes - although plenty of locals were dancing and waving handkerchiefs in the air, while several bands and sound systems competed with one another from all corners of the plaza. Today is the start of several days of celebrations that will culminate on 4th August with a procession. However, for now the icon remained resolutely within the confines of the church. The image of Saint Christopher is awesome icon, his face wracked with anguish, a palm tree in one hand, baby Jesus on the other shoulder, flanked by small Andean figures with full-face balaclava and long-nosed mask we saw yesterday. In another image on the church, a small aeroplane accompanies the saint, underlining his important role in keeping people safe during travel, which also includes drivers and might explain the attitude to road safety in South America. As we were about to leave, another band appeared out of nowhere - sheet music attached to the shoulders of the player in front - marched directly into the, until then, contemplative silence of the church's nave and burst into a rendition of 'Happy Birthday'. Well, I suppose this is a fitting tribute for the saint's anniversary, if a little incongruous with the surroundings. Peruvian festivities are certainly a lot more festive than at home.

Banging the drum for the Saint's birthday

Dancing at San Cristóbal

As the festivities got rowdier and we were entreated to join the drinking, dancing, or both, we made a move home. We searched vainly for somewhere to sell us vegetarian causa, but discovered that Peru is as in love with chicken as everywhere else we have been in South America. Pollo features as an undisclosed ingredient in just about every dish. As a close second, we bought papa rellena - a fried potato encasing a filling normally comprising beef - from a hole-in-the-wall vegetarian shop on Plaza San Francisco.

Papa rellena

As a distinct bonus, we passed a small picarones shop (Picarones Ruínas) that we had assumed would be closed - its unmarked door remaining resolutely closed all day with no posted opening hours - only to find it open for business.

Picarones

A pan of hot oil in the doorway was being tended by a young girl who slid circles of pumpkin dough into it to create the delectably crunchy picarones 'doughnuts' that are served with a sweet syrup. With very sticky fingers, we returned home.

Santa Ana

Not a few hundred yards from where we are staying in Tambillo is the Inca Templo de la Luna (Temple of the Moon). Some adventurous tourists make the pilgrimage up the steep Inca path from town that leads to these ruins, which we pass every day in the opposite direction. As with many things on one's doorstep, we have neglected the temple, carved directly into a mound of rock protruding from the hillside. Today, we ventured inside, investigating the natural fissures that were refined by the Inca stonemasons for who-knows-what purpose.

Temple of the Moon and Ausangate

At midday, we had an appointment at the bootmaker for a pair of boots to K's design. The bootmaker had turned them out astonishingly quickly, although they were supposed to be ready yesterday evening. However, when we dropped by to pick them up last night, we found the usually empty little shop full of people, each perched on a stool and holding a bottle of Cusqueña. The owner apologised for the delay.

Having picked up the boots, we didn't even attempt to buck our established convention and segued immediately to Green Point for lunch. I had the set menu, which came with chicharron de champiñones (battered mushrooms to you and me), while K ordered á la carte and received an enormous and delicious-looking ensalada grillada that stretched the definition of the word 'salad'.

"Salad"

Today was apparently the Festividad de Santa Ana. It is notoriously hard to get reliable information on local festivals, especially religious festivities, many of which are literally moveable feasts or last for multiple days. When questioned, the people at the tourist information office seemed unaware of the calendar of events they advertised and were not especially forthcoming with details of the schedule. However, we decided to see what might happen at such an event. We wavered a little when we realised that the small Templo de Santa Ana is at the top of Cuesta de Santa Ana - one of the many steep roads leading out of Cusco's town centre that have helpful steps up each side owing to the sheer angle.

Cuesta Santa Ana

It was fortunate that we took a chance as, on surmounting the hill, we were greeted by a jubilant atmosphere and crowds of cusqueños tucking into plates of roast cuy, chicharron of pork, and other fried foodstuffs outside the church. They were also consuming a large amount of beer. The sacred nature of the festival, which focuses on a parade of an image of Santa Ana, said to be Mary's mother, carrying the baby Jesus, is apparently no impediment to the participants' inebriation. In fact, it seems traditional.

Dancing and masks at Santa Ana

Among the throng of onlookers were many people in costume and several bands, each processing into the tiny square in front of the church. Some wore full-face balaclavas and square lampshade-style hats and proceeded to whip each other in a display that was largely comic but nevertheless had the crowd gasping in vicarious pain.

The whipping dance

Having announced the arrival of yet more costumed and masked celebrators, the band peeled off to seek shade and a few beers. However, they could not rest long before the main event - the processing of the icons. An enormous effigy of Santa Ana carrying a child emerged from the church doors atop a solid wooden frame, which was hoisted by at least two dozen men down the steps and onto the street. This was shortly followed by a the beatific figure of Jesus Christ (as a man), and the two images were followed down the street by dancing troupes and marching bands.

Religious icons and, err... men dressed as gorillas

On arriving back in the main square, yet more dancing was taking place. This time, children and young adults were entertaining the crowds with street dance, presumably as part of the lead up to Peruvian independence day.