DAY 4: I woke up an hour before class and was off to take a shower, when I ran into Anna, this girl from Nebraska that I met in the TV lounge the night before. "Wanna get some breakfast?" she asked. I saved the shower for later and went out with her.

We went wandering for a really cheap breakfast place. "Most of the places in the gringo district are pretty expensive," she said. "I've been going to places about four blocks away where it's a lot cheaper." We found a small sit down restaurant where a full breakfast -- including bread, eggs, coffee and juice -- was only a buck sixty. "It's funny when you think a whole two dollars is too much for a breakfast," she said.

Anna was blonde and really tall (perhaps 6' 2"?), which here in Ecuador screams "rob me." She had been extensively traveling Latin America for a while, but the one time she let her guard down on the Quito city trolley, her passport was stolen. For the past five days, she'd been trying to recover it, and for the most part it has been a nightmare. After el desayuno, she went off to get a new passport photo while I went to class.

I had a different tutor this time since the one from yesterday, Carmen, had to tend to a special Japanese student. No matter, I had Rosa, a Quito-native who actually thought the 70s-80s temperature was too cold for her. The two of us had our four-hour session in a bigger interrogation room that wasn't so claustrophobic. We worked on more verbs and continued to converse -- or at least tried to. One conversation involved her telling me how she had parasites in her digestive system. ¿Como se dice 'That's a little more information than I needed to know.'?

AFTER CLASS, I was feeling a little more confident about my Spanish, and so -- by popular blogfan demand -- I decided to call up Erika, the "hottie." I used the pay phone in the hostel and dialed the number she gave me.

"Hola. ¿Ésta Erika?"

That was about all the Spanish I had prepared.

The voice on the other line went off in Spanish like a rocket. Now what I learned from this is, if there's anything harder than trying to communicate in Spanish with people who assume you speak it in person, it's doing it on the phone. When it's just voices, there's no body language or frowns, or my stupid, confused looks for them to realize, "Hey, maybe this guy is deaf."

I managed to realized that I wasn't talking to Erika, or her husband, but her mother, which really spawned a tricky situation. I didn't know if I should have hung up the phone just then, but I tried to stick with it. With the help of the young, bilingual hostel guy Carlos, I managed to give Erika's mother the number of the hostel, and hoped for the best.

LARS THE GERMAN was in my room, just hanging out, looking quite bored. He did a lot of that; he had been living in the hostel room for eight weeks, waiting on a job offer as a German tour guide, and was pretty much over all the touristy things to do. He told me about the Old City, and so I decided to go there solo, to check out the vibe. For an adventure, I took the city trolley, the same one that Anna got pickpocketed on. I figured I could blend in better than any 6'2" blonde gringa. However, I looked like a total dumbass when I unknowingly inserted my 25 cents in a newspaper vending dispenser instead of the turnstile.

The trolley was pretty much as crowded as a NYC subway during rush hour. We were all packed in like sardines, and I could definitely see how easy it would be to get pickpocketed with all the pushing and shoving around. I felt a tug on my bag for a little bit, but realized it was just a little girl playing with the hanging straps.

THE OLD CITY (picture above) is the old colonial city of Quito, sandwiched in between two mountains, each with a grand religious artifact on top. I went to the top of one mountain, the Basilica, an enormous gothic structure towering high above the city. I bought an entry ticket and explored on my own.

I was all alone as I wandered the massive church. I explored the mezzanine level, and went out to a terrace and accidentally walked in on a couple making out. As I left to leave them alone, a clueless Japanese tourist walked in on them.

On the third floor, I noticed an open door and a sign and pathway that led you over the old church stone ceiling. The path was made of rickety wood, and the room was dark, and I felt like Indiana Jones at the third challenge in The Last Crusade. I took the Leap of Faith -- only this leap of faith had safety ropes.

On the other side of the Survivor challenge was a ladder that lead up to the roof, and on the roof, there were two more ladders that led up to the Bell Tower. It was windy, and the ladder was steep, but I climbed on up, as acrophobic as it was.

On my way back down and out the cathedral, I accidentally walked in on that couple making out again.

THE OLD CITY differs from the New City in that is architecture is more colonial Spanish. Narrow cobblestone streets created many hidden alleys, and I could see why everyone suggests not to be there at night. But, it was mid-afternoon, and I went walking around. I saw the Iglesia de Santa Barbara, the Grand Plaza, and the Plaza Santo Domingo. The Spaniards sure did have hard-ons for plazas.

I HAD TO GET A NOTEBOOK FOR CLASS and so I went looking for a place where I could just pick one up, on my way back to the hostel. I felt a little awkward about my Spanish, particularly in a neighborhood far away from the gringo one, so I was sort of nervous about asking for un cuaderno. Everytime I'd see a stationery store, I'd walk in, hoping the notebooks would just be in a pile where I could take one and go to the cashier without having to say anything, but all the stores I saw had all their notebooks behind the counter, or in a glass display case. I felt as awkward as a teenage boy on his first trip to buy condoms.

The day was ending, and a lot of stores were closing and I still had no notebook. I had no choice but to go to the next stationery store and get one, with awkward Spanish or not. Luckily, I found a store where the supplies where out in the open and so, I only had to say three magic words: Necessito un cuaderno. It was an easy transaction -- until the cashier needed a price check on a cheap pen I bought and I confused her all to hell with my Latino-looking gringo ways.

One day in the future, like the legend of El Mariachi in a Robert Rodriguez film, the people of Ecuador will speak of the mythical Latino Who Couldn't Speak A Word of Spanish.

THE REST OF THE NIGHT was pretty chilled out. I had dinner at my little local place that none of the gringos went to and had a HUGE two course meal for $2.50. I hung out back at the hostel with the"regulars," including Dave, this American guy who was in Quito for a while teaching English. We all sat around and made fun of that movie Vertical Limit which was on TV. I also got around to some homework with some help from Anna who, despite her 6'2" blonde gringa presence, was fluent in Spanish.

Erika the hottie never called.

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