Eccentric encounters

César doesn't say much when he's up on the mountain — he's too busy stopping you from falling off the edge — but when he's back in civilisation, he's a real friendly guy. Like all climbing guides, he's incredibly fit, and ready for pretty much any emergency: as guides go, he's up there in the elite. César took Tony and myself up Cotopaxi this week, and we all agree that weather permitting, he would have gotten us to the top as well.

I met Tony here at the Secret Garden, on my first night in Quito, and I've been bumping into him now and then over the past few days. I ended up convincing him to come and climb Cotopaxi with me: which was just as well, because otherwise, I might not have been able to climb it at all. Tony's an Englishman, who gave up his boring day-job about 7 years ago, to become a permanent traveller, and a virtually full-time scuba-diving instructor. Quiet chap, but he's up for any adventure that comes his way.

I first met Oly almost three months ago, when Chris and I bumped into him, along with his girlfriend Stef, and their crazy friend Sophs, on Lake Titicaca. Well, what do you know: I've bumped into him again, here at the Secret Garden in Quito. Oly's a web designer from England, a guy who likes a beer or two, and (at the moment) a travelling junkie.

Marcelo is the friendly owner of Jack Rock Café, one of the great places to enjoy the nightlife in "bar street" of Baños. Considering that his bar is home to pumping music and wild dancing, he's a very quiet and dignified man. He also loves chess: Patrick gave him a few games last night; and tonight, I decided to challenge the old fella as well. With a few hints from Patrick (who's better than me), I managed to score a victory. If you're up for a game yourself, just head into the bar mid-week, and ask for Marcelo.

Terry's a retired, somewhat chubby, somewhat balding old chap from Florida, who's been down here in Baños for over three weeks. He's a real character: he's teaching English to a (very good-looking) young lady who runs a tour agency in town, and you can see him hanging round her office any time during the day; while you're also guaranteed to see him sitting at the bar, chatting to some random stranger over a large Pilsener beer, if you wander past the Mocambo Bar (the one with the best music in town), any time during the evening. Always ready to strike up a conversation, and apparently here indefinitely.

Another solo traveller, like myself, who's off to see the world for 12 months. Patrick's a master's graduate of Economics and Politics, he's a Belgian, he's an ace soccer player, and he's quite the ladies' man. First met him in Máncora last week, and I'm planning to spend the rest of the week here in Baños with him, going on recreational adventures by day, and on bar-bound adventures by night.

I met Einat yesterday morning, when I first arrived at Sol y Mar, here in Máncora. She's a very unique Israeli, in some ways: she lived in Argentina for three years, during high school (with her family), so she speaks fluent Spanish, and she sounds like an Argentinean; she also travels alone. In other ways, she's not so unique: ultra-tight with money, and happy to travel really raw, to save a few shekalim. She's nice, but her complete and utter indecisiveness, coupled with her stinginess, made it hard to put up with her for more than a day or two.

I've met a lot of interesting people on my trip, but Kate would have to be the most unique soul I've come across so far. She's been in South America for over a year — she lived in Cusco for 6 months, and she's just broken up with a local Ecuadorian boyfriend that she had for a long time — and she plans to go back to Cusco, and to live there indefinitely. She's a "healer" — you know, into traditional rituals, herbal medicine, shamanism, and all that tree-huggin' hippie stuff — and she wants to pursue healing as a full-time career move. Met her randomly in Chiclayo today, and had a great time hanging out with her and going sight-seeing with her.

I love croissants. I really do. I believe that they're god's gift to the world of pastry — via the French. And they're not so easy to find, either, down here in Peru. That's why when I saw a pasteleria here in Huaraz a few days ago, that was selling croissants, I eagerly bought some. And they were delicious. Yesterday, I returned to this treasure-trove supplier of wheat-filled goodness, only to discover that they were out of croissants. But I must be more memorable than I realise (what with my hairy beard and all, these days): because all that I did was walk past the croissant shop this evening, and the girls working inside called out: "¡Amigo — hoy dia, tenemos croissantes!" (lit: "Hey mate — today we have croissants!").

Christian is a Belgian guy, and part of the (largely) French group that I bumped into yesterday afternoon. As I was hiking with this group all of this morning, and as Christian was the only one in the group to speak decent English, I ended up talking to him a fair bit. Really nice guy, just down here for a few weeks, for his summer vacation. Yay: more Belgians!