When you first start travelling, you're filled with excitement and a pinch of trepidation. You plan, book, and buy all the necessary flights, accommodation, rail passes and whatever else, because you want to be prepared. Funnily enough, in the stages of preparing and visualising how amazing your trip will be, there's one thing most of us don't consider: the locals and other travellers you meet along the way.
Rarely do travel books and blogs expound this wonderful aspect of travel, for indeed, which books or blogs could? The people you meet, and the experiences with these people are personal to you and your travels. For whatever reason, you and that person were in the same space at the same point in time. On the surface they may look like just another traveller, just another cab driver, just another shopkeeper; but I've come to love learning about these individuals I meet. They each have a story, different to the next, and give me an insight into the land and culture like nothing else could. For this reason, I would like to share the stories of those I've met along my way, in hope that you also get to know those you meet along your way.
When Dan (my husband) and I travel, we like to travel both on and off the beaten path. In Quito, that meant we would need to hire a taxi to take us from Quito to Otavalo (where huge markets are held) and back, with detours along the way. Mario was our driver for the day, and like any other taxi ride, we started off as driver and customer. Mario said little, focused on his driving with a frown, and we sat in the back, wondering whether he was in a bad mood. I nudged Dan because he speaks passable Spanish, and I wanted to know whether something was wrong; after all, we would be spending a whole day with him. Soon enough, a conversation was going; (Mario wasn't frowning, he was squinting because of the harsh sun) and as we shared stories of our life in Sydney, Australia, Mario told us stories of his family and the country he called home.
By the time we reached Otavalo, Mario decided he would 'guard' us rather than sitting in a cafe. He haggled with the locals, guided us away from the fake artisan shops, and we all sat on the sidewalk eating fried empanadas. On the way back to Quito, he took us to a 'real' dessert shop (Fabrica Bizcoche San Pedro) that was frequented by locals. We sat eating bizcoche with goats cheese and a hot chocolate (seriously amazing combination), and I asked Mario for a few photos to which he smilingly obliged.
Having been a carpenter for most of his working life, Mario had become a taxi driver only one year prior, at the age of 53. An avid watcher of films, Mario's smile was brightest when he talked about his 8 month old grandson. We had such a good time I forgot to take photos of the goats cheese and hot chocolate, but here's a few frames of Mario and the crunchy yet soft bizcoche we couldn't keep our hands off (we reordered three times).
It was a bittersweet moment when Mario dropped us off for the night. We stood around the taxi, having become friends in the space of 12 hours. Leaning on the bonnet, we chatted some more, put a bag of bizcoche in his hand to take home to his family who we felt we now knew, and finally said our byes, to which Mario quietly replied, "Adios, mi amigo". That bit of Spanish, even I understood.
