Ecuador and its choruses.

I had forgotten what noisy city Quito is. I knew there would be endless traffic, of course: buses belching diesel fumes, taxis, trucks, cars - all nose-to-tail and inching a path through the narrow streets of the old city. And, as Quito is built on a mountainside some of these streets are seriously steep, so there is the obligatory roar as buses and trucks change gear. 

Then there is music, just too loud to be considered ‘background’ - every cafe, restaurant and shop plays music. And if there should be a corner where this music cannot reach there are buskers. There might have been respite in corner cafe in the Plaza de San Sebastián, if it weren’t for the renovations of the building on the corner: machines roar long into the night. Maybe the Plaza Major should be quieter - but even there the chatter is punctuated by whistles from the security guard each time a child begins to climb on the central statue. 

And somehow the street traders make themselves heard: women on street corners selling fruit, or edging through crowds with trays of cigarettes. A man presses me to buy bright shoe-laces. There are hats, necklaces, lottery tickets, knickers, smokey plantain, ice cream, popcorn, cake, pashminas ... each trader’s cry is shriller than the next.

It’s wonderful, but it is noisy. It was time to head for the rainforest. I might find silence there?

Howler monkeys howl when they are upset. They are frequently upset.

Toucans toot. Hoatzin squabble. Parrots squawk (has anyone measured the decibels of a flock of squawking parrots?). Kiskadee chirrup and once started don’t know how to stop. Screech owls - you can guess.

Just as the light is fading and you think the birds might sleep, the cricket and cicadas join in - they’ve been mumbling all day but scream at sunset.

They have stiff competition from this little chap (not a great photo, but hard to photograph in forest light):

This is a small, sleeping tree frog. As the sun sets his one thought is to attract a lady frog. Apparently endless barking - a bark that echoes through the trees and bounces off the water - is attractive to lady frogs. It is a deafening cacophony of frogs. Most have sorted themselves out by about ten; the deed is done and they can enjoy the secondary pleasure of eating bugs. But sometimes one lonely frog is left barking his heart out until sunrise. You’d have thought he’d have got the message by then and gone home to put his feet up with Netflix and a beer ...

I’m back in Quito. I love the rainforest, and I love its orchestras. But on Monday I’m off to the coast. Maybe the shushing of waves will lull me to sleep there.

When the earth moves

Where do I start? Last time I blogged I'd just crept out of the jungle. I've done so much since then that feels a long time ago!

I spent a couple of days in Quito, and then went to Cotopaxi - a volcano which erupted last year, so no one can climb it at the moment. But I plodded up its neighbour, as high as 4000m (it's a bit thin on oxygen up there, I don't think I could have gone any higher), and spent the night in an ancient hacienda that so was full of extraordinary, ancient stuff the I felt like a bit of an artefact myself after a couple of hours.

From there to Banos, which is in the valley at the foot of a live volcano. This volcano:

I'm afraid that's the best I can do as far as pictures go. I had to trudge up a road a long way to find a vantage point, and and was very lucky the summit wasn't covered in cloud. You thought that was cloud on the top? No, that's steam ... and my resort was on a ridge, about 100 metres below this.

Who, in their right minds, builds a resort on the side of a volcano? Or a whole town at the foot of it? But in the past, when this volcano erupted, ash and lava flowed down the other side. There are established trees here, buildings decades old. There are emergency routes everywhere, 'just in case', but sometimes you just have to chance it - because all this volcanic activity means there are wonderful thermal spas to flop about in (and bridges to bungee jump off, for the truly intrepid).

If you wanted to stay out of reach of any seismic activity in Ecuador's mountains, you'd never build anywhere. If it's not volcanoes, it's tremors. The road from Banos to Cuenca (where I am now) could be one of the great road trips of the world - seven hours through the Andes and some of the most stunning scenery I've ever seen. And it's a good road, most of the way, except where tremors have caused cracks and potholes. It's hard to keep the show on the road when the earth keeps moving.

So there you have it, from jungle to volcanos to thermal spas and earthquakes. And it's wonderful!

And so to Ecuador.

Why Ecuador?

Why not?

When I was in Cuba I met a family from Germany; their eldest son was working in Ecuador and they described a fascinating country. Had I been there? they asked. No ... and, the more they talked, the more a visit seemed like a very good idea.

Yet, even now, I have no idea what to expect.

So here is the little that I do know:

I have no idea how stable their politics are, though I do know there should be no elections while I'm there. Like most countries, there can be occasional demonstrations - I'm used to staying well away from those.

I know there are some wonderful markets - so hopefully I find some treasures for daughters and grandchildren, and for the friends who look after my house while I'm away.

I know there are some wonderful mountains - Quito (the capital) is located at about 9000 feet. Cotopaxi, one of the main volcanoes, has been hissing a bit in recent months, but has had no serious eruptions for decades. I know how to run away from molten lava. (I shall also be visiting the hot springs, which will be fun. I'll let you know if they smell as bad as Rotorua!)

I know that there are a number of national parks, aimed at protecting the rainforest and associated wildlife in the upper reaches of the Amazon. There are anacondas, and boas, and no doubt a scorpion or two. But the lodge where I'm staying is remote and beautiful, and have guides who know how to keep us all safe. (Those who have read about my last trip to Nepal will know that one close encounter with a crocodile is enough to last a lifetime!)

I have done my best to learn Spanish, so I shouldn't get into the sort of tangles that made Cuba such a challenge. I believe I can get myself understood now. But I've no idea if I can understand replies.

I can't find out how much the climate is affected by the current El Niño. But there have, in the past, been floods in Puerto Lopez (where I hope to have a few days by the sea). I've no idea if there have been storms in the Galapagos - nor the impact they may have on the wildlife there. Nor if storms might mean that I spend my Galapagos week sheltering in a harbour somewhere.

I will have wifi some of the time - but it may be slow. So blogging, tweeting, facebooking will all be a bit hit and miss. Just assume I'm fine - and wait for tales of my adventures till I get home. (I honestly don't know if I'll write a book about this trip - it depends how I get on.)

Maybe I need to do more googling, find out a bit more, considering I'm leaving in a couple of days.