Ceviche Ecuatoriano

We visited Quito in instalments; three days, than one, than two more. It was a place for 'highs'; first and foremost meant as altitude, as the city lies at 2800 m. For me it was also the first Andean town (without considering Salta or the Argentinean villages). I was looking forward to immersing myself in the culture of the western side of South America, which we were going to travel down to Santiago over the next two months. The city's layout was spectacular; in a narrow valley surrounded by mountains, with a colonial district on the south end and a 'new town' on the northern end. Dizzy from altitude sickness, on our first day we visited plazas and churches, ate local ice-cream and climbed the Panecillo hill which allows magnificent views of the old town. I really wanted to try ceviche, a Peruvian specialty made with raw fish marinated in citrus juice, which was also offered in Ecuador. I asked around, and locals pointed me to Cevicheria Ruminhaui.

Having ceviche for dinner was out of the question; given the fact that seafood is raw, only the catch of the day is used, and respectable cevicherias close after lunch. So we kept the option for lunch on the following day. I was really excited by this, and on the following day we set off for Ruminhaui on a high. We were less than a block away when Nick was tapped on the shoulder by two middle-aged men. 'Palomita, palomita' they said, meaning we were covered in pigeon poo. The 'poo' suspiciously looked like mayonnaise to me, and I had heard enough about this scam to realize that the men were trying to part us with our belongings, including the D200 which was stupidly dangling on my neck. So we kept walking, soon we were in front of the cevicheria we were bound to, and we entered looking for safety. We made for the toilet, where a concerned-looking man was pointing us to. Once we entered we had two people all over us, and the D200 disappeared.

I felt like I swallowed a black hole. That camera was our wedding present, the reason Nick decided to get into photography. He was absolutely furious at me for letting it out of my sight. Luckily, we realised quickly and went on the chase. To this day, I do not know how we managed to keep up and find the men running with our camera. I ran with my heart pounding, in the state of shock that follows a crime, part of myself still coming to terms with what happened. Things happened so quickly I was struggling to keep up; I wanted to scream to stop the time. Whilst running, we were pointed to the right direction by some locals and found ourselves chasing the man closely down a courtyard. He saw we would have caught him, and dropped the camera. At the same time, the police appeared and arrested the man and his accomplice. Holding tightly my camera I followed the policemen to a shop where they sat the culprits down and gave them a good talking to. In the meanwhile they asked me to tell what happened. I was still so scared and relieved at the same time that I couldn't speak. The thieves kept saying it wasn't their fault, it was a misunderstanding. One of them was still clutching the packet of sauce he squirted on us. I shouted him he was a liar, I felt like punching him, and punching myself for allowing this to happen.

Then, the police station. It was a dark shop-front with stairs leading onto a basement. By then the adrenaline in me was running out; I felt broken, I just wanted to go back to our hotel and spend the rest of the day in bed. The policemen said that if we wanted to press charges, we had to leave the camera in custody for 24 hours as evidence. The day after we were meant to leave for the Galapagos, so we refused. As I said that, I saw a whip being led down to the basement, and I heard thumps and screams. The thieves were being tortured. I felt a rush of guilt overtaking me, and I started to sob. I just wanted to get there as quickly as possible. The police insisted I pressed charges, I kept refusing. They said I was free to go. As soon as we got out of the police station I felt immensely relieved, and remember we were going to have ceviche for lunch.

We went back to Ruminhaui, where I ordered a ceviche mixto. Having never had ceviche before, I didn't know what to expect. What I got was a cold fish soup, with nuggets of the ubiquitous white fish called corvina, prawns and concha negra (black mussels). Floating in the soup, which tasted like watery, tangy tomato, were picled onions and tomato pieces. All was accompanied with popcorn, fried corn and fried plantain. It was delicious and filling. Surely it tasted even better because the D200 was safe in my bag...