First night in Quito

One memorable and frustrating experience did happen my first night in Quito. It was an experience that taught me (or reinforced earlier indications) that it's best to double check things in the State Department. I'm not sure if it's that people are so busy they forget to do things, or something else. Time will tell. Everything was fine in getting to Quito. The Consulate here in Guayaquil arranged a driver for me to the airport, the flight, and then I was picked up by a driver in Quito. The problem occurred when we arrived at the gated community where the TDY apartment is located. TDY stands for temporary duty, which was what I was doing in Quito-it usually applies to anything less than 6 months or so in the State Department. It includes interns, and lots of technical workers come on TDY assignments-instead of every post having certain specialists, which would be a waste, there’ll just be one in a region, and they have a base and then travel about. There’s enough of these people in Quito to warrant having an apartment just for them (cheaper than a hotel). 

As we approached the gate, the driver asked me where the house was. I, of course, had never been there, so was a bit worried. I had printed off a rough google map with directions. So we headed in that direction, but, the buildings weren’t all marked, so we weren’t 100% sure we had the right building. We went back to the guard station at the entrance, and they more or less sent us to where we had been. I, assumed, that since the Embassy didn’t arrange for one of its drivers to pick me up, that they would’ve at least made sure the driver knew where he was headed. That hadn’t happened. So, as I didn’t want to go dinging all the doorbells in a few different apartment buildings, I called the housing coordinator in Guayaquil. He said he’d try to find the information for the housing guy in Quito, and would get back to me. In the meantime I called the contact I had in Quito, the woman who’d be my supervisor for the next 5 weeks. She was quite upset, as she had recently had many problems with the housing unit, so she said she’d try and get the numbers for the two interns living there, as well as contact the housing guy. 

(the view outside the neighborhood gate, that’s Rucu Pichincha)

In the meantime I felt bad that the driver was just waiting there, so I went to the building that we thought was it, and rang the doorbell of the first apartment on the panel. I knew I was looking for Apt. 1, the bottom floor apartment, and hoped the panel (no labels) went in sequential order. There were two sets of metal grated doors. I could see through the lobby two young women come to the inside door. They looked out, saw me, and shut the door. Was it the wrong apartment? Or had the Consulate and Embassy not been able to complete the fairly basic task of telling the two interns they were receiving a new roommate that night? I guessed the latter, and rang the bell a few more times. 

They answered, and opened up the first gate. Now in the lobby, I asked “is this the embassy TDY apartment?” Once this was confirmed, I told them I’d be staying there. They were a bit taken aback, and asked if I had some sort of proof that I worked for the embassy. I showed them my diplomatic ID card, and that, with the addition that I CLEARLY was American, and had a bunch of knowledge of people working in the embassy, apparently was enough led them to let me in. 

I couldn’t put my bags right down in my room, because one of the intern’s mothers was visiting. As they had no idea I was coming, her mother had been staying in the empty room. So, they were very kind, and her mom moved all her stuff out and washed the sheets and made the bed for me. In the meantime, we all discussed our mutual disbelief that no one had notified them that there would be someone moving into the other room, and that no one had asked them if they’d be comfortable if it was a single male. (Apparently, as the housing coordinator told me the next day, because we didn’t share a bathroom it wasn’t against the State Department’s rules.) It took the housing department until Wednesday to get me keys for the apartment. So, it was good I had a cell phone to be able to call the interns and make sure I’d be able to get into the place. Needless to say, having to show ID to get into my apartment wasn’t the best welcome to Quito. 

Luckily, the people in the Consular section, especially the Ecuadorians, were super cool and friendly, and I had a blast during my time there. 

(sun setting over the hills in southwest Quito)