An Irishman's Diary

I arrived in Quito of a Sunday. It was closed. It was also September, and just 14 degrees Celsius. "A wonderful spring-like climate," said my pocket guide. There I was, 22 kilometres from the Equator and freezing, with nowhere to go. And it is usually like that until Wednesday, a barman explained to me sometime after Wednesday.

On the whole I'd have preferred Philadelphia, as W.C. Fields said of his loathed (by him) hometown. He was quoting the planned inscription for his own headstone.

From such a start, the only way was up. Even in a city which, at 9,000 feet-plus, is the second highest capital in the world (La Paz, in neighbouring Colombia, is 11,000 feet). Even if I could only walk yards before feeling I'd aged decades, and hadn't the energy to drag my legs after me. I'd been warned about the effects of the lack of oxygen at that altitude, but no one told me it was going to be quite like that for those first days.

Between volcanoes

Quito, capital of Ecuador, is a long, narrow modern city, estimated to cover an area of 50 kilometres by six wide, with a population of 1.2 million. It has one of the most attractive locations in the world, sited in valleys between a series of volcanoes, some still active. This can make for exciting atmosphere, even on a Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday.

The most recently active volcano was Pichincha, after which the province in which Quito is based is named. Tall, majestic, and threatening, it growls above the city like a spoilt teenager.

Marco knows Pichincha well. Thirty-something, he lives under the volcano with his wife, his 12-year-old daughter, and six-year-old son. He prefers Pichincha to his mother-in-law. It grumbles less. So much so that in 1994, when Italian scientists thought the volcano was about to erupt, and asked that the suburbs where Marco and his family lived be cleared, Marco refused to go.

Just weeks beforehand, the same scientists had issued a similar warning. That time, Marco and his family moved in with his mother-in-law in a safer part of the city. It was enough. Second time around, he thought molten lava preferable to living with that woman again. So he sent his wife and children to her home and stayed put himself. Pichincha took pity, and went silent.

Doesn't like priests

Marco grumbles a lot, too. He resents the fact that the average income in his country is 125 dollars a month, even if the standard of living in Quito is good. He doesn't like tourists from the US, because they are arrogant and look down on South Americans.

He doesn't like Germans because they are so serious and quiet, even though they are the main source of tourist revenue in Quito. He finds the way the English say "betta" for better, and "wata" for water, strange, so he doesn't like them either. But he really cannot stand Jews or priests. He seriously doesn't like priests.

His country is 95 per cent Catholic, and he says that if you are in the military or the Church in Ecuador you will never go hungry. His father was in the military - well, the navy - and Marco traces his dislike of priests to a clash he precipitated between the military, well the navy, and the Church.

He was 12 and going out with a girl. A priest at his school heard about this and physically beat the living daylights out of Marco because of it. Marco told his father, who in turn beat the living daylights out of the priest. In which instance, it would appear that action and reaction had an equal and apposite effect, as that was the end of the matter.

Marco doesn't much like politicians either. Ecuador's President, Abdala Bucaram, had left the country for Panama a few months beforehand, trailing clouds of corruption allegations. They say in Quito that even Bucaram's 19-year-old son was in on the game. They believe he made a million dollars in bribes in just one year.

They also say Ecuador is controlled by six families, who do what they like. So, too, do their friends and relatives. They have special passes which are shown to police if there's ever a spot of bother, and Bob's you're uncle. Or Bill or George. Anything but sue, that's what the police do in such situations.

But Marco loves football, deeply truly. Along with his son, his country, Quito, and Our Lady. Indeed, as we toured the city together, it became clear he loves all ladies. In a sense, all these loves can be traced to football. He used to play professionally, but then was involved in a horrific crash.

A bus with 25 people on board was travelling along a mountain precipice - common in Ecuador - when it plunged over the side. All but eight on board were killed as it tumbled and tumbled.

Devotion to Virgin

One of the survivors was Marco. He was in a coma for a month and remembers an angel saying to him that his time had not come yet, and he woke up.

Since then he has been devoted to the Mother of God. It is sincere devotion too, as became clear when we went to see the enormous statue of the Virgin of Quito, which towers over the old part of the city. It was built in 1956 as thanksgiving for protecting Quito from the volcanoes, and is over 120 feet high.

"She is more important to us than Christ," he said, before bending to repair a faulty connection in his car while I climbed high inside the statue to see the city below and the beautiful Catopaxis volcano nearby. Catopaxis is snow-capped and on the Equator. It is said to be the highest mountain in the world, if measured from the earth's core rather than sea level.

The crash put an end to Marco's footballing career, but not to his passion for the game. He runs a business in Quito, and when we met he was playing football between counters with his son. He plays with friends every Saturday, but his wife doesn't like that as they go for a few beers afterwards. Things can happen then if there are girls around, it seems.

Yet it is as we walk through the old town part of Quito that his pride in his city becomes most clear. We made our way, through the crowded markets where Panamanian and Colombian traders were selling everything from underwear to fruit, to the PLaza de la Independencia with its magnificent presidential palace, cathedral, and archbishop's palace. The cathedral is closed following an earthquake in 1987.

But what moves Marco most is what he translates as "the route of the seven crosses", along which are seven churches dating from the 16th and 17th century, and outside each of which is a large stone cross. Inside, the churches are marvellous examples of that over-the-top Baroque style so favoured by their Spanish originators. All gloom and gold, with over-dressed statues of the Virgin everywhere, matched by as many bloodied Christs in various and detailed stages of bloody torture.

Marco explains that seven tons of gold leaf were used in decorating the La Compania cathedral. The Jesuits began building it in 1601. The people of Quito are proudest of this church, with its extraordinarily ornate style and sumptuous interior. It too was damaged in the 1987 earthquake, and by fire within the past year.

Buying good luck

As he whispers in the darkness, Marco cannot help boasting that, despite the woefully high rate of armed robbery in the city - every bank and business building seems to have its very own armed security guards - the gold in La Campania has never been touched.

And then we go to see the oldest church in Quito, the splendid San Francisco, said to be the oldest church in the Latin America. Its construction began on December 6th, 1534, weeks after Quito itself was founded. Along the pavement outside. an old woman is selling souvenirs and good-luck charms. Marco bargains with her, on my behalf, for a small statue of Geco Cardino, a Colombian mythical figure who guarantees good luck. Marco believes everyone should have one. And as we returned trough the market, he bought marbles for his son.