The Dark Night

The group who arrived from Utah ended up being so much fun to work and party with, that I myself and my co-worker Lauren decided to travel with 8 of them to Quito at the end of their clinical week. They wanted to experience some of the fun of Ecuador in the few days before they went back to the States. Our hostel was in an area of Quito called the Mariscol. It is the most happening district in Quito specifically for gringos, so much so that it has been nicknamed “Gringolandia.” Dozens of bars, nightclubs, and restaurants are within just a few blocks which makes it ideal for going out without having to pay for cabs or worry about getting lost (or at least that’s the idea).

That first night we ended up partying pretty hard and dancing the night away at a nearby disco. On the walk back, we ended up getting lost anyways but that may have been because of the beers and the shots of tequila, rum, and whiskey…who knows. Regardless we made it home safely around 2 in the morning. The next morning was a little rough to say the least but we managed to drag ourselves out of bed to make it to the Brazil-Ecuador World Cup Qualifying soccer match (although this is part of another upcoming blog). That night, most of the group hit the sack pretty early although four of us decided to grab some coffee and desserts around 9ish.

At about 10, we started the 8 minute walk back to the hostel. We were about one block away from our hostel and still close enough to bars and restaurants to hear talking and laughing when a guy approached unexpectedly from my right. He put his arm on my shoulder, and I assumed it was some drunken gringo asking for directions. That was until he pointed a knife at my neck and said in broken English, “Just money. Give us money and there be no trouble.” Meanwhile his companion had wrapped around from the left leaving us no option of running, not that we would have ran anyway under the circumstances. I gave him the $20 I had in my pocket but that wasn’t enough to satisfy them. The second guy commenced frisking me while the other guy stood sturdily with his knife still pointed somewhere between my chest and neck. They grabbed my new camera and my work cell phone and then proceeded towards my back pockets containing my Spanish dictionary and verb book. They weren’t too pleased with those and threw them to the ground, asking each “Isn’t there anymore cash?” in Spanish. They seemingly decided that the camera, phone and bit of cash were enough and ran off in the other direction. Ironically, their machismo lost them a fair amount of loot. If they had searched the three girls or threatened them instead of assuming that only the one guy could have anything of value, they would have made off with hundreds more. Luckily (for many reasons, the least of which being money or valuables), the two Afro-Ecuadorians let the girls be.

The next hour and rest of the night for that matter was sort of a blur. The expected adrenalin rush you read about didn’t kick in until about 10 minutes after the fact. I felt so angry and violated and stupid and frustrated and bitter and weak and guilty and vengeful and naïve all at the same time. Every day tends to get a little better but I still mistrust everyone on the street and often carry a knife now. The dreams/nightmares are repetitive and disturbing. Some would argue that it was good for me to get a dose of reality, but I would tend to disagree. I don’t think I did anything risky or irresponsible. In retrospect, nothing I could have done besides possibly carrying a gun could have prevented what happened. And more than anything else, I hate what the occurrence has done to undermine my trust in people.

A week afterwards, I was in Quito to meet my parents who were coming to visit. On the way to the hotel around lunchtime, I decided to revisit the site where it happened. It helped a bit with closure but also brought a resurgence of bad emotions.

At the end of the day, there is good that comes out of every situation in life. In this case, it has made me appreciate quiet safe towns like Otavalo a lot more. And most obviously, I am incredibly thankful that we only lost some objects, money, and some trust but kept our lives, limbs, and health.

Love

Kent