Fourth installment of the “things that happen to you while” series.

Your gf tells you to chug water like nobody’s business the day before you get to Quito and on the flight as well, because if you don’t, you’ll get altitude sickness. You do as she says and end up having to climb over the person in the aisle seat about three hundred and eighty two times to go to the bathroom. Your gf also tell you to get some altitude sickness pills and start taking them the day before you get to Quito, because if you don’t, you’ll get altitude sickness. You get to Quito, and within 12 hours, your body goes into shock after realizing, lo and behold, there is absolutely no oxygen in the air.

When you land in Quito and walk into the arrivals hall, you spot your gf, who you haven’t seen in a month, and make a bee-line for her completely oblivious to anything or anyone else in the room and wrap your arms around her and squeeze her and breathe in her shampoo.

The taxi ride to the apartment is a whirlwind. You gaze at your gf. You stare at the surroundings. You gaze at your gf. You notice a Ford Explorer and ask, “What the hell, it’s bad enough we make these things for ourselves, we have to export them too?”

You wake up Saturday morning unable to do much because there is no air at 3000 meters. You have to spend the day in bed. Which, after a long week at school, turns out to be a good thing.

That evening, you and the gf head to a café recommended by her flatmates. It is known only by the name “Café Guapulo.” Gf doesn’t know where it is, but the cabbie thinks he does, so he radios his buddies and figures out where to go. The café is cute and quaint and is perched on a hillside overlooking a church and much of the city. It is relatively empty and you sit and talk with sassy music in the background. You talk and share “Crepes de Pollo” which turns out to be chicken baked with dough in a tiny pan. After spending a month talking on the phone and the computer, talking in person is a whole lot better.

You have more energy Sunday morning and you head off to the equator. As every other site on the equator is much less accessible because it’s either on a mountain, in the jungle, or in the water, this part of the equator is considered the middle of the world; hence the name “Mitad Del Mundo.”

After spending a good two hours wandering the city for the right bus to take – aka taking the scenic route – you find the right bus and come to a strange realization: you are a giant in this land. At 6’2”, you’re almost twice as tall as many of the locals. You feel like a walking circus.

You get to the Mitad Del Mundo and notice there are two equators. After lengthy analysis conducted in your head and out of the earshot of your gf, you decide two equators are not possible. One must be a fraud. Which one it is remains to be determined. You eagerly anticipate the collection of evidence to disprove the validity of one of the equators.

The sign for the outdoor equator museum, Inti-Nan (path of the sun), says “LAT. 00? 00’ 00” CALCULATED WITH G.P.S.” and you are satisfied that that must be the real equator. And lo, the tour guide demonstrates that this is indeed the true middle. She fills a bucket of water on the equator and drains it. The water drains straight down. She moves the bucket three feet to the north and the water drains counter-clockwise. She moves the bucket three feet into the southern hemisphere and it drains clockwise. You stand flabbergasted.

Afterwards, you decide to head to Plaza Grande in Old Town. On the way, however, you take the sage advice of a semi-local that turns out to be not sage at all. While Old Town lies towards the center of the city in the valley, the bus you’re urged to take sends you into the hills, where the streets are eerily deserted. Thankfully, you get on a bus that takes you back down into the city center and get to the Plaza Grande.

Plaza Grande turns out to be a little on the bland side. It’s basically a big statue in the middle of a plaza. What is interesting, however, is a police car parked on the edge of the plaza. Policemen are inside the car. Instead of watching out for shady characters waiting to take advantage of unsuspecting tourists (hi), they’re texting each other and playing games on their cell phones. Ecuadorian tax dollars hard at work.

For dinner, you had to the Mariscal district, also known as Gringolandia (Land Of White People). It’s a little on the touristy side. You eat dinner at a tapas restaurant and drink sangria. Whatwith the higher altitude, one glass gives you a nice buzz. Your suspicious that you are a cheap date are confirmed.

The next day, gf wants to go climb a mountain. You say, “cool,” especially since there’s a cable car that takes you up there. The mountain overlooks Quito in the valley lying below. You’re at an altitude of about 4000 meters, so it’s much colder there. The clouds appear to be within arm’s reach. Off in the distance is Cotopaxi, the volcano overlooking Quito. Gf was there just the week before.

After you return to the city, you and the GF run some errands around town. After stopping in nearly every toy and knickknack shop in the city looking for dice, you finally find some in a mall. She plans to use them to play English games with her students. You wonder what kind of shady operation the school is running, anyway. Since you’re in South America, you figure you ought to score yourself a nice Panama hat. You buy a cool one from a street vendor for $8, which seems reasonable considering some stores sell them for $30 (up to $300).

Then, you and the gf attack the grocery store. You pick up food to make for dinner and have a great time in the kitchen as the other flatmates cook too. One of the flatmates is making an alfredo sauce and notices it’s taking longer than normal to cook. Upon closer inspection, gf notices her mushrooms and onions aren’t sautéing very quickly either. Upon yet closer inspection, we all notice the gas burners are off, resulting in the lack of heating being applied to the pans. Turns out the gas canister hidden in the cupboard next to the stove ran out of gas. The flatmate cooking the alfredo sauce proceeds to grab a spare canister of gas and hooks it up to the stove. Viola, instant gas stove.

One of the flatmates’ friends, an Ecuadorian, is leaving the country, so they invite him and some other people over for dinner. Not only do they cook for everyone, but they also write him a rap song. And then perform it. It’s possibly the most entertaining musical and theatrical performance you’ve ever seen. Three Canadian girls rapping with their pants and hats on backwards is a sight to be seen.

The next morning, you’re on a plane back to real life, where books and alarm clocks and construction on Highway 59 await. The next time you’ll see your gf is on December 20th. Until then, you patiently wait for her, and think of the good times you’ve shared.