I threw on a light jacket, rang for security to open the tall metal gate, and started walking into the darkness. The La Mariscal neighborhood is sketchy. A subsection of New Town – full of clubs, bars, restaurants, internet cafes, and backpacker hostels. Also, where you will find drug dealers, prostitutes, homeless people, and a young gringa wearing a Michael Kors-looking jacket and TOMS shoes. Adrenaline rushing through my veins, and my head on a swivel, I had my eyes glued to my back. I quickly walked across the street to avoid confrontation with sketchy-looking bystanders and a homeless man carrying a large black garbage bag big enough to stuff me inside. As I crossed the street, the man started to j-walk towards me. Game face on. He asked me for money – no tengo dinero, I replied. He tried to stab me with something in his hand. Being taller than him, I charged at him. He mumbled something in Spanish and stumbled away. Ania – 1, Homeless Man – 0. I made it down the street to Plaza Foch (ground zero for the La Mariscal district) and had a delicious seafood dinner.

Rewind two days. Colombia left quite an impression – the culture, the food, the colorful architecture, the beauty – the weekend was truly wonderful. I already knew that this next long weekend would be hard to top. I found a cheap flight to Quito prior to leaving for Colombia. This would be my shortest international trip yet: two full days and back home the morning of the third. Fortunately, I was working across the street from Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. As usual, my flight was delayed. Luckily, I made my connection in Miami and arrived at Mariscal Sucre International Airport at around 3:30 in the morning on May 9, 2015. I quickly walked through customs and immigration and found a seat next to a power outlet. I could not justify making lodging arrangements just to sleep somewhere for a few hours. I inflated my travel pillow and set an alarm.

I hailed a taxi from the airport to the Q Restaurant, Plaza Foch where I was being picked up for Cotopaxi National Park. The drive from the airport to the restaurant is about an hour. Tired faces sipping coffee. Complete silence. Couples, solo travelers, friends, and just me. I made my rounds and the conversations started. Off to a good start, my social skills sure are improving.

I was not made for high altitude. Before we arrived at breakfast, I already talked myself into feeling unwell. The expired altitude pills I found at home were not working. I needed coca leaves, and I needed them immediately. I was hoping Ecuador was much like Peru in terms of coca leaves – readily available in the villages on the way to Machu Picchu. I was quickly disappointed to learn otherwise. The closest thing I had to coca leaves was coca candy. I could not have unwrapped the candy any faster. Two motion pills and a bag full of coca candy later, I could not feel my face, but at least I felt better. By better, I mean, I was able to open my eyes.

Along the way, we stopped for breakfast at Hosteria PapaGayo. Since I was coming straight from the airport, I left my backpack at the restaurant. I really do not remember eating breakfast or getting to the national park. The altitude really messed with my head. I remember opening the door of the bus upon arrival and being pushed back inside by the ridiculously strong wind.

I definitely did not pack for the occasion. Maybe I should have done more research, or, at the very least, maybe I should have finally bought those hiking boots I have been trying on the past few weeks. No, here I was in my new REI Sahara pants, pink gym shoes, and a bright blue North Face windbreaker (not even the fleece kind). I did not think to pack base layers or even a sweater. Luckily, I was open-minded enough to pack the gloves that were recommended on the tour operator’s website. I was practically shaking before stepping off the bus. The wind was indescribable. I thought I was going to fall over. Being my size, that is hard to imagine.

The hike to the top was brutal. With each step, my feet sunk between the rocks into the volcanic ash. I kept telling myself to keep going. I kept telling the people around me to keep going. They pushed me, I pushed them, and somehow we all made it to the top.

The hike down was much easier. But, at this point my head felt like it was going to explode.

Once we reached the parking lot, the tour operator provided us with mountain bikes. I made it halfway down before I thought I was going to faint. The bus had to drive me down the rest of the way.

Within minutes, I passed out cold and woke up in Quito.

The following day, I had arranged an early pick up for a tour of Quito. The tour began with a panoramic view of the city from the TeleferiQo – a gondola lift running from the edge of the city center up to Pichincha Volcano. The views from the top are breathtaking.

Once I got a good look of Quito from above, my guide drove me around the city, both old and new.

The highlight of the day was visiting the equator. Long story short, the equator was incorrectly marked in Quito. Ciudad Mitad del Mundo houses the Monument to the Equator. This location was thought to be the real equator until some years ago when the military with GPS discovered that it was not.

But, just moments away is the Intinan Solar Museum, which marks the “real” equator. This private attraction is actually a lot more interesting than Ciudad Mitad del Mundo. Here, the guides demonstrate the power of the equator by allowing you to test your balance and strength, and observe the Coriolis Effect. Fascinating.

We made plenty of stops throughout the day, until we arrived in the heart of historic Quito.

Here at the Plaza de la Independencia (also known as Plaza Grande), I parted ways with my guide to have lunch and later made my way back to the Discovery Quito Hostel. What a day.

What a trip in general. Knowing how much I could do in two days motivated me to leave the country more often on weekends.