Why mistaking a written number one (1) for a British pound sign in a country in which the pound is not legal tender is a silly thing to do.
I think that answers itself. I´ll get back to it in a bit.

First things first, e went to the local museum today, exciting, huh? Actually it was rather interesting, charting the formation of Equador from the begining of time (few exhibits for this part, sadly) until the arrival of the Spanish. There was more to see, apparently stretching to the present day, but the upstairs was closed for refurbishing so we missed out on that. They did only charge us half price admission though, which was nice. Anyway, lots of fun bits and pieces (note: "bits and pieces" is not in anyway an archaeological term), statues, sculptures, masks, jewlery and a model of a village, which seemed quite pleasant until you realised that in the centre of it was some poor bloke being pinned to the ground for some sort of ceremony.

Having spoken to a few of the other Brits in the hostel (shocking really how these ghetos of European travellers seem to form) one of whom turned up last night and just so happens to come from Oxford. Chris, as he is called, is here to learn Spanish and started off by picking up a kids book in the language. Nice idea, thought Gary and I, so today dropped into a local bookshop where Gary picked up a book of fables (in rhyme, which could be interesting next time he goes into a shop and starts talking in rhyming couplets) while I picked up a copy of "Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal" which I thought I was probably familiar with enough to get something out of - even if the new vocabuarly might be a little odd, I´m not sure if there will be any need to discuss things like trolls, levitation and alchemy in the coming months, but you never know. Anyway, it seemed like a great idea, and it looked incredibly cheap (only two pounds and fifty five pence!) so I took it to the counter and realised that it was actually twelve dolars and fify five cents. That´s about nine bloody quid for a children´s paperback.

Now, the decent thing to do, would be to mumble an apology and put it back on the shelf. Of course, me being the bloke who smuggled a half-eaten burito out of a resturant in a jersey (which still smells sort of spicy), I naturally rooted arond in my wallet for the full amount. Fool.

Still, I´m determined to read the lot. Maybe pick up the others as I go along. And if nothing else, I now know the Spanish for Quidditch, so there.

It´s Quidditch. Obviously.
- posted by Vince @ 1:25 PM