After a family breakfast, I set out for the Mitad del Mundo, but then realized that I had enough time to make it to the 11:30 Lutheran church service in the middle of Quito (not quite on the way, but hey, who said adventures were convenient?). In fact, I was early and as I was walking up the big hill to the church, I heard worship coming from what is the Iglesia Cristiana Centro de Adoración. I was only about 15 minutes late, so I slipped in and joined in! Things were all going well, including the whole song they sing for visitors welcoming them to the church and inviting them to return! The sermon was fine, though the pastor had a pretty think Portuguese accent so my comprehension wasn’t quite 100%…and then the alter call came. Now, I’d normally be okay with that, but in this one nearly every single person went to the front where the pastor laid his hands on them, prayed, and then flung them backward onto the ground! I was a bit freaked out by this and decided to sneak out, conspicuously or not! At this point, I was only about 20 minutes late to the Lutheran service, and after all, I’m on Latin American time. Unfortunately my attempts at sneaking in the back were thwarted by a congregation size of about 20! And this pastor had a thick German accent, which is kinda funny, by the way! And it made more sense after I learned that they have an English service at 9 a.m., a German one at 10:15 and then the Spanish one at 11:30. And apparently the same pastor for all of them! Well, not anymore. You see, he’s been here 2 years but now has to go to Argentina or someplace. And lucky for me, this Sunday was his last day and they had a little farewell gathering for him…that included cake! I felt kinda weird staying, but this nice guy Mario explained to me all the places I must go in Ecuador and we enjoyed our cake and coffee! He then walked me to the bus stop ( a good 30 minutes away!) because it was all downhill (seriously, he said he wouldn’t have had it been uphill!).
From there I headed north out of Quito, switched buses, and 45 minutes later arrived at the equator, la Mitad del Mundo. They have a nice little touristy city there where you can buy all sorts of souvenirs, sweaters, and hammocks, but more importantly you can take a picture at the monument they’ve constructed. You can also pay to go up into it where they also have a great museum of every 
single province/tribal group explained. From there I walked/bused to the nearby crater Pululahua (and it took me about 50 tries to say it right!). It’s famous for it’s steeeeeeeep sides and incredibly fertile bottom. Apparently also well-known is that one must arrive before noon to see anything…at it was about 5 p.m. at this point. 
So I bought two post cards of what it looks like on a clear day and began the walk back. As I was about 200 meters from the nearest bus stop, two nice policemen stopped and told me I should not be walking alone. So they convinced me to let them drive me all the way back to the Mitad del Mundo, even thought it’s the same bus that passes where I was! Ah well, now they can feel like they did their job well and helped out a helpless foreigner.
I assumed my adventures were over, but the bus ride home proved to be quite exciting! First, the lady who collects the money (and yes, it is rare to be a woman and not a man) got into a fight with a woman who had gotten on to sell sugar cane. There was yelling, hair-pulling, and name-calling until the vendedora got off the bus! Then, the kid behind me threw up in his lap for no apparent reason—he didn’t look pale or sickly to me and the driver wasn’t driving that erratically. Ah well, we were close to the terminal…when a loud, boisterous group of drunk people got on and made lots and lots of bulla until they all decided to get off a few stops later, or, rather dangerously, before the stop had arrived! Wow. The walk to the next bus terminal was eerily void of people, due to the flight to the beaches of nearly every resident of the country’s capital, and because it was so empty (and getting dark), it was the only time I’ve felt at all endangered in Quito thus far. But I arrived safely and after the long rides home, the only newsworthy event was that the shoestore Monica and Jairo have has finally received those infamous crocs. And yes, Monica was already wearing her pair! So I smiled and told my little story of dear Barb Berkseth, who knows comfort when she finds it!
From there I headed north out of Quito, switched buses, and 45 minutes later arrived at the equator, la Mitad del Mundo. They have a nice little touristy city there where you can buy all sorts of souvenirs, sweaters, and hammocks, but more importantly you can take a picture at the monument they’ve constructed. You can also pay to go up into it where they also have a great museum of every 
single province/tribal group explained. From there I walked/bused to the nearby crater Pululahua (and it took me about 50 tries to say it right!). It’s famous for it’s steeeeeeeep sides and incredibly fertile bottom. Apparently also well-known is that one must arrive before noon to see anything…at it was about 5 p.m. at this point. 
So I bought two post cards of what it looks like on a clear day and began the walk back. As I was about 200 meters from the nearest bus stop, two nice policemen stopped and told me I should not be walking alone. So they convinced me to let them drive me all the way back to the Mitad del Mundo, even thought it’s the same bus that passes where I was! Ah well, now they can feel like they did their job well and helped out a helpless foreigner.I assumed my adventures were over, but the bus ride home proved to be quite exciting! First, the lady who collects the money (and yes, it is rare to be a woman and not a man) got into a fight with a woman who had gotten on to sell sugar cane. There was yelling, hair-pulling, and name-calling until the vendedora got off the bus! Then, the kid behind me threw up in his lap for no apparent reason—he didn’t look pale or sickly to me and the driver wasn’t driving that erratically. Ah well, we were close to the terminal…when a loud, boisterous group of drunk people got on and made lots and lots of bulla until they all decided to get off a few stops later, or, rather dangerously, before the stop had arrived! Wow. The walk to the next bus terminal was eerily void of people, due to the flight to the beaches of nearly every resident of the country’s capital, and because it was so empty (and getting dark), it was the only time I’ve felt at all endangered in Quito thus far. But I arrived safely and after the long rides home, the only newsworthy event was that the shoestore Monica and Jairo have has finally received those infamous crocs. And yes, Monica was already wearing her pair! So I smiled and told my little story of dear Barb Berkseth, who knows comfort when she finds it!
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