Alan in Ecuador

The Valley of Longevity

The village of Vilcabamba in southern Ecuador is internationally known as the “Valley of Longevity”. Many residents state their age as being upwards of 100, yet go about their work and play with youthful enthusiasm. The town is set amidst lush green hills and home to an array of butterflies, birds, wild orchids and fruit trees. While some attribute the long lives of the residents to mineral-rich water, healthy food, and a warm climate, I think it’s something much simpler. Who wouldn’t want to live for long as possible if they lived in a place as beautiful as this?

(My photos of Vilcabamba are lost, so you´ll  have to use your imagination here - imagine you’ve just finished a hike of several hours to the top of the highest hill in the valley. You’re admiring Vilcabamba from the perspective of the condors that circle in the sky. Green hills roll out endlessly around you and fresh air fills your lungs.)

The Grander Canyon…

The Colca Canyon in southern Peru is more than two times as deep as the Grand Canyon and just short of being the deepest canyon in the world. I did a three day trek into and out of the Colca - an experience which can only be described as breathtaking.

Photo of Rio Colca taken by Hanna, from Germany, who was a great travel partner throughout Colca and Peru in general

The Shining Path

Though I had heard of the bloody era of the “Shining Path” in Peru, it wasn’t until i saw a powerful exhibition of photographs  dedicated to remembrance of this period, that the scope of this tragic time came into focus for me. The lives of many innocent people were lost, and, as is often the case, it was the poor and the indigenous who were commonly caught in the cross fire. The Shining Path, like many revolutionary groups, said that they wanted to change what they saw as a corrupt political system and usher in a new era of equality and justice. Unfortunately, using violent tactics, the Shining Path ended up failing in their efforts and left thousands upon thousands dead in the process. It wasn’t until the year 2000 that this brutal period of Peruvian history came to an end and there is still talk of Shining Path activity in remote regions. 

A New Path Forward

On a more hopeful note, many peaceful revolutionary movements for change are currently succeeding in South America. The majority of current South American presidents have put forth progressive agendas, which are helping to decrease the cavernous gap between rich and poor in the region, restore rights to Indigenous people, and create greater solidarity and sustainability across the continent. It is a sad fact that foreign interventionism in South American affairs often helped to sow the seeds of the debt, poverty, and dictatorship that plagued the continent in recent times. Yet, there is an inspiring new spirit of independence in South America - fueled by a desire to both heal from the pain of the past and to build a more equitable and sustainable present.

Young Revolutionaries in Arrequipa offering ´´Free Hugs´´.

´´Cheers´´

I had the opportunity to stay with a wonderful family in Cusco, Peru, for almost a week. Before we drank a toast we always poured the first sip out for Pacha Mama (Mother Earth to the Indigenous peoples of the Cusco area). Whenever we needed to bake anything we brought it to the huge community wood fired ovens that feed a good portion of Cusco. Our Dad thought that the English word “cheers” was hilarious and took the opportunity to say it whenever anything resembling a drink was in his hand. Staying with this wonderful family reminded me that I always want to be in the presence of people who laugh from deep down in their bellies.

(My photos of Mom and Dad in Cusco are lost - though I think a friend may have copies. Picture Mom sitting in a chair with a blanket draped over her, laughing a huge laugh. Picture Dad posing for a photo during a hike in the sacred valley, kicking up his heels and grinning).

Machu Picchu

It is difficult to put the experience of visiting Machu Picchu into words. There is a palpable energy that permeates the stones of this ancient Incan city. It is clear that the site was chosen with great intention and that each stone was laid with reverence. The result was, and remains, absolutely stunning.

(Here you can enter ´´Machu Picchu images´´ into your web browser and picture me standing in front of the ruins in full afternoon sun)

The Floating Islands

The indigenous tribes who live on the floating islands of Lake Titicaca came to the area after fleeing the encroaching Inca empire. With no place left to live freely on the mainland they constructed “islands” out of the reeds that thrive in the lake. They built houses and boats out of the same reeds and floated away to freedom. Hundreds of years later, the people of the floating islands continue to live in much the same way, simply adding new reeds to the islands to keep them afloat. Though tourism has altered the lives of the islanders in the recent past, the encroachment of these new foreign “invaders” has once again fueled the ingenuity of the inhabitants. Discarded plastic pop bottles are used to add extra buoyancy to boats and solar panels now generate efficient energy for the islands. It is inspiring to see examples of people, who, in the face of potentially destructive forces, have succeeded in creating an alternative future for themselves.
 

    

Island Baby 

The Sound of Music

My first day in Colombia, music is everywhere. Walking through the streets of Cartagena, on the Carribean sea, a group of older men is playing cumbia songs in a courtyard, while a group of high-school aged youth are breakdancing in the plaza. Across the street from the breakdancers, in the Cathedral, an elegantly dressed woman is singing Ave Maria before a large crowd. A couple blocks away, in an old-school salsa bar, a group of mostly older men are enjoying classic songs and using the bar counter to play their own invisible drum/piano accompaniment.

Gringos

As snooty as I can be about wanting to spend most of my time with local folks rather than other travelers, the truth is that I’ve met some wonderful fellow foreigners along the road. Almost every day brings a new cast of characters into the life of a backpacker and I wish I could introduce you to all of them. Suffice it to say, I appreciate the opportunity to connect with and share the road with other travelers and wish to publicly acknowledge the many small kindnesses and acts of camaraderie shown to me by innumerable international adventurers along the way.

Cesar w/ butterfly in Cali, Colombia 

(He’s not technically a gringo as he didn´t move to New York from Lima until he was 15. We traveled through a large part of Colombia together.)

“Pope to the Frenchwoman”

 You may be asking, “what could the phrase, ‘pope to the Frenchwoman’ mean?” Perhaps it’s a vague reference to the life of Joan of Arc? Or the surrealistic punch line to a bad joke? After encountering these mysterious words on a restaurant menu, I am happy to report that “pope to the Frenchwoman” is actually what I ate with my dinner one night in Santa Marta, Colombia . Referred to as “papa a la francesa” in the Spanish portion of the menu, this delicacy was translated quite beautifully (and not entirely incorrectly) into English as “pope to the Frenchwoman”. If translated in a more accurate (and boring) manner, the menu item may have read “potatoes in the french style” or, for those from the United States, “french fries”. I am sad to report that in other places on the menu, the translation of this dish was “corrected” to read “POTATOES to the Frenchwoman”.

Two Sides to Every Story

While the city of Medellin is famous to many as the former home of the ruthless Colombian drug cartel, my experience of the city has been quite different - in a word, the city strikes me as surprisingly… wholesome. My first day wandering about the city, this is what I witnessed: a huge crowd of people, both young and old, men and women, doing aerobics at 8:00 in the morning - right in the middle of the main bus terminal / a youth arts celebration, with middle and high school aged youth playing cumbia music, dancing, and walking on stilts in rainbow-colored costumes / a group of kids from a Colombian Boy and Girl Scout-type organization strolling through the botanical garden and drawing pictures of exotic plants / a girl of about six-years-old sitting next to a lily-pad filled pond and playing ‘ode to joy’ on a recorder / a group of adults and youth gathered in a circle, laughing, and taking part in some sort of workshop. Throw in a lot of public art and sculpture, a great rapid transit system, a thriving night life and a warm climate and Medellin adds up to one of my favorite cities in Latin America.

La Zona Cafetera

Here’s the view of the sunset from my hostel in Salento, which is in the coffee growing region of Colombia. I also got to visit an organic coffee plantation nearby. This is an incredible part of the world…

Bogota

This is another one of my favorite cities - arts, culture, and LIFE are everywhere. The picture below is of the extraordinarily over-the-top Andres Carne de Res restaurant in northern Bogota.

(Photo taken by Jorge, whom I met in the hostal in Bogota.)

I’ll see YOU soon! Looking forward to it…!

Caiman Eyes and Fireflies

I’m in a canoe, headed out on a 5-day tour of the Cuyabeno flooded forest in the Amazon jungle, home to 50% of Ecuador’s mammals, and 5% of the earth’s plant species. Our Quiteñan (from Quito) guide, Paula, stops the canoe at a village to pick up our guide from the Quichua tribe. ´´There are no guides´´, a Quichua woman says. ´´All the men have gone to clear the trails with the Cofan men - they’ll be back in a few days.´´ ´´But´´, she says, ´´I might be able to guide you if you come back tomorrow…´´

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I have to admit, at first I had reservations about joining a tour group. This was for many reasons, not the least of which was that in traveling with fellow gringos I would lose the Spanish immersion I maintained in Quito. However, it is practically impossible to see this remote a part of the Amazon without being part of a group - and the best you can do is choose one that seems environmentally and socially ethical. As the tour progresses I quickly discover that I can speak in Spanish with our guide and serve as something of a second interpreter when needed. As untested as my Spanish skills are, I’m the only tour participant who speaks the language, and am beginning to find that I know more than I had thought. I also find that the 8 other tourists (2 Canadians, 5 Dutch, and 1 ´´fellow American´´) are great people, and we quickly click as a group.

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About halfway through a walk in the jungle with Paula our first night, she tells us to turn off our flashlights and become quiet. Thinking this is just a suggestion to help us enjoy the jungle environment, some of us comply and some of us do not. Later, we find out that a poisonous Bush Master snake had been heard and that the noise and light were attracting it. We quickly learn the importance of following instructions in the Amazon…

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At night in the rainforest, life and death dance in humid air. The red eyes of caiman gleam in murky water, and orange fireflies dart between shadowed leaves…

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Our first full morning in the Amazon, the woman who met us in the Quichua village has joined us as our second guide. Her name is Rita, and she tells me in Spanish (the language she knows besides Quichua) that there are just 3 female guides in her village.´´But´´ Rita tells me, breaking into a smile ´´I am definitely the best guide… because I am the funniest!´´ This statement will prove to be gloriously true.

Rita Disguised as a Toucan 

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I feel lucky to be able to speak directly with Rita in Spanish - I ask her if she’ll tell me Quichua stories, and she tells me about ´´how the boa became the boa´´. I ask her why she thinks it’s raining so much in the dry season, and she tells me that the weather seems to be turning upside down these last few years. At night, Rita says she doesn’t know how to play cards, but ends up being the most enthusiastic player in a raucous game of ´´Spoons´´.

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I have told many of you this already, but there really is such a thing as a Pink River Dolphin! We saw lots of them during our trip (and no, we did not ingest any hallucinogens - these creatures are strange but true!)

Alan in the Amazon

Farewell to Quito

I am back from the Amazon, but preparing to leave again, as Quito has already kept me for longer than the 1 month I’d intended to learn Spanish and acculturate here. I’m excited for the coming months of traveling and volunteering, but it is hard to say goodbye to the wonderful family and friends I have gained in Quito…

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As I’m reading at home, Claudia, my 19-year old host sister (who is married, but overwhelmingly young at heart) asks me a question I haven’t heard in about two decades. ´´You want to play Legos?!´´, she says. What can I do but say, ´´yes!´´ I dismantle a spaceship and build a space-age tower….

Claudia and Andreas (her husband) playing Jenga

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I am at a soccer game with my host-brother, Santi, his friends, and Melanie (a college student from Pennsylvania who is now also living with the family in Quito). This match is between the champion team from Ecuador and the champion team from Columbia - it is a big deal. Before the game, fireworks fill the stands with smoke and Ecuadorian pop-idols perform at mid-field. We are sitting right on the border of the Ecuadorian and Columbian cheering sections. After half-time a major brawl breaks out between the opposing fans and both fists and bottles fly around us. The guards eventually settle things down, and once attention finally returns to the field, Columbia beats Ecuador, 1-0.

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I admire Don Pepito, my host grandfather, not just because he’s still got a full head of hair at the age of 95, or because he loves to dance, even when it’s hard to walk. I admire Don Pepito because he is a man of few words and many smiles. Because he loves life the way a 5-year-old loves ice cream. Because some times Don Pepito and I look each other in the eyes and start laughing for no other reason besides that it feels good. I admire Don Pepito because, when the two of us are sitting on the living room couches together, and I start to strum the guitar, he always smiles and taps his fingers to the music. Because a couple of days ago when I was sitting there playing guitar, Don Pepito suddenly got out of his chair (which is not always easy for him to do). Because, when Claudia asked, ´´What do you want Pa Pepito?´´, he pointed at me and said in his quiet voice ´´un abrazo´´ (a hug). Because, after that, Don Pepito shuffled slowly over to me and gave me un abrazo…

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After eating so much of Anita’s amazing Ecuadorian food, I was happy to cook one of my specialties for the family - soy sauce chicken. From the clean plates and happy faces, I think it was a success….

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Tonight, the whole family is gathered at the house for a cena (dinner) before I leave. Anita has prepared one of her specialties, fritada, and the table is laden with tantalizing dishes and drinks. The food is wonderful and, as usual, followed by salsa dancing and singing (both in Spanish and English). It is hard to leave such a wonderful home, but I promise the family to be back and spend quality time with them before I return to the States.

Carnaval on the Coast

I was scheduled to lead a teacher training in Baños this Friday and Saturday, but soon find out that this weekend is Carnaval (which is not the best time to get people to focus on work)… We decide to postpone the training, and I choose to spend Carnaval on the Ecuadorian coast.

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I’m sitting in a hammock in the seaside village of Puerto Lopez. All the power in the town has gone out, and above me, stars and leaves are intertwined. Beside me, a fire of sweet-scented Palo Santo wood is burning. All is well…

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I’ve come on a guided hike around Isla de la Plata, which is referred to as the ´´Poor Man’s Galapagos´´ (though, ironically, in Spanish, Isla de la Plata means Silver Island). This is the next best (and infinitely less expensive) place to see frigate birds, red and blue footed boobies, and other biologically unique creatures. We end the trip by snorkeling in the warm Pacific waters, surrounded by corral, angel fish, and calm, blue waves . I can hardly believe that this is the same ocean we’ve got up there near Seattle….

Boobie Babies

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I’m on a fishing boat with Gallo (who is the manager of the ´´Villa Columbia´´ hostal I’m staying at, and a new friend), as well as a high-spirited group of British travelers also from Villa Columbia. Gallo has arranged with a fisherman friend to take us out for the day. We pass red-brown cliffs surrounded by clear blue water, while coastal birds and yellow butterflies weave above the waves. During the course of the day I manage to catch 3 fish - none of them are pretty to look at, but when I cook two of them for dinner with Gallo’s mother, I find that they have a delicate and delicious flavor…

Waaponi

I have returned to the area of Baños to prepare for the teacher training that was postponed by Carnaval. 2 days before the training is to begin, Vulcan Tungarahua erupts and all roads into town are blocked off. Because of the severity of the situation, I must leave the area, and the training is postponed indefinitely. I promise to return to help out and lead the training when conditions allow. Luckily, no one has been harmed yet by the eruptions, but I continue to keep the townspeople who live beside Mama Tungurahua in my thoughts. Hopefully they will remain safe and things will return to normal for them soon.

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I’m in the elegant town of Cuenca - an Unesco world-heritage site, with red-tiled roofs and an artistic edge. The next several days I am sharing ideas and leading trainings for ´´Waaponi´´, which is a Cuenca-based non-profit youth program with goals strikingly similar to Power of Hope’s. It feels good to be of greater service in Ecuador and reminds me of how much I enjoy connecting with and facilitating groups. I am happy to find kindred spirits in far corners of the world and am humbled by the hospitality and kindness of my hosts. I feel hopeful for humankind - which is always a good feeling to have.

Waaponi!
(the word means, ´´may joy go with you´´ and is used by the Huaorani people when saying goodbye.)

Mama Tungurahua

I´m in the town of Baños for the weekend, home of the intensely active Volcán Tungurahua. As I ride on horseback through the hills with my young guide, Brian, ´´Mama Tungurahua´´ rumbles and spits ash into the blue-grey sky above. Occasionally, Brian signals for us to slow our horses and listen to Tungurahua speak. She has a low, stony, voice - like an aged grandmother talking in her sleep.

Eventually Brian and I come to a river carved into Tungurahua’s side by a lava flow just seven years ago. Three men are stooped over the stream, shaking plastic bowls back and forth - panning for gold. Brian draws a crude map in the dirt directing the men towards a different river, where he says they´ll have more luck. I don´t know if this is true, or if Brian just wants these men to leave Mama Tungurahua alone…

So filled with longing -

The grey horse tied to the post

Next to the river

In the Hills Above Baños

La Compañía de Jesús

They say seven tons of gold were used to gild the walls, ceilings, and altars of this 400-year-old Jesuit church in the heart of Quito’s old town.  Inside, all is symmetry - the naked eye can not distinguish between the two spiral staircases that wind up the back right and back left walls. Only when you walk closer will you discover that one staircase is real, and the other has been painted on the opposite wall to match it…

A huge and outdated painting of judgment day hangs on the southern wall of the church - white-skinned people ascend happily towards Heaven, while brown-skinned people march in the opposite direction.  I´m here with Anita, her father, and a tour guide, who quips, ´´I guess all four of us are going to Hell…´´ Afterwards, our guide points out the three carved indigenous faces hidden amidst the grandeur and gold leaf of the church…

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Outside the church gates, an old indigenous woman is selling charms for change - lines carved into her face like the wooden saints who weep within…

A peacock feather

Tucked neatly into the brim

Of her green felt hat.

Darwin Fish

Ecuador is at once 95% Catholic and the home of the Galapagos Islands… However, Jesus definitely beats out Darwin when it comes to number of bumper stickers in Quito…

What is there to do

At the top of the tree trunk

But to climb back down?

Happy Birthday to Who?

The whole family is at the house of Julio´s mother, Dalinda - a spry and elegant 80-year-old with a sparkle in her eye. The table is laden with cakes, cookies, tea, and, fruit, all spread out lovingly by Dalinda for her son. We are waiting to surprise Julio, the birthday boy, when he walks in. After waiting an hour - and then another hour - and then 30 minutes more - we decide that Julio isn´t going to show up. Not wanting the party to go to waste, we sing happy birthday to Julio and eat the cake without him…

A surprise birthday -

No one ever expected

That he wouldn’t come!

Merry Christmas

It is Christmas day and I am at a hostel in the hills with my host family. There are gifts, good food, and good will - like other Christmases. However, unlike other Christmases,  today I’m picking tropical fruit and flowers and hiking to a waterfall. I definitely miss being with my family, but this is not a bad change of pace…

Fellow Traveler

Four-hundred years before me

Laughing in the rain.    (FOR BASHO)

Natalie on Navidad (My Host Cousin)

And a Happy New Year

While the way Ecuadorians celebrate Christmas is generally similar to celebrations in the States, New Year’s Eve is something else altogether.  This New Year’s in Quito, I am riding in the back of a pick-up truck with my host brother, Santiago, 9-year-old host cousin, Pablo, and fellow Seattleite, Andrew. Every block or two there are human barricades erected, and to pass, you must give handfuls of change to young children and ´´Viudas´´. ´´Viuda´´ is the Spanish word for widow, but on New Year´s Eve in Ecuador, it refers to the large number of young men who dress up like women and try to kiss other men… definitely an interesting spin on Machismo…

At midnight, the streets are filled with fire and smoke,  as each family burns their ´´Año Viejo´´ or ´´old year´´ - a life sized effigy representing the past year. Fireworks and dancing in the street follows…

Junto al fuego

Miro solo ceniza

Del Año Viejo

Translation:

Next to the Fire

I see only the ash

Of the Old Year

Alan on New Year’s Eve, Quito

 In the Kitchen With Anita

Today I am making humitas with Anita and the family for a fiesta. Here is my recipe for these savory corn dumplings (mentioned earlier in Part 1):

Gather the whole family around the kitchen table… Take 36 ears of plump yellow corn and pick the kernels off one by one… Pour the kernels into a metal grinder and crank the handle for an hour or so (take turns doing this, so no one’s hand falls off…) 

Once the corn has been ground into a smooth paste, heap it into a bowl along with the corn milk (that was collected in a bowl beneath the grinder), sauteed leeks, fresh cheese, salt, sugar, eggs, and melted butter. Stir the mixture well, then spoon it into the corn husks that you saved when you shucked the corn. Dab a bit off relleno, made with cheese, onions, and achote on to each humita before you wrap it lovingly in a corn husk coat. Steam the humitas for an hour and a half and then eat them hot, with a cup of black coffee and generous spoonfuls of ají (home-made salsa). Muy Rico! (West Coast Translation: Hella Good!)

Anita Carving the Turkey, New Year´s Eve

Poets are those people

Whose skin is so thin

That each experience

Enters the blood stream upon contact

And pumps directly

To the heart.

  ACCENT MARKS

(Another actual conversation with an acquaintance, translated into English for your reading pleasure…)

¨Where are you from?´´

´´I’m from the US.´´

´´The US - that’s great!´´

´´Yes - I’m from the US, but my potato is from China.´´

´´Your potato…?´´

´´Yes - My potato is Chinese…´´

It now becomes apparent that I have said something amusing, so we look at each other, share a smile and stand on the precipice of laughter…

¨… Oh, you mean your FATHER is Chinese! (laughter breaks out from the belly)´´

´´Oh…Yes…. My FATHER… (more laughter and red cheeks)´´

I have now come to realize that the accent marks over certain letters in Spanish are not just there for style… ´´papa´´ and ´´Papá´´ mean two quite different things…

LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP

My host father Julio is a mountaineer - the walls of our house in Quito are coated with photos of this slight, but sturdy 58-year-old waving from various mountain peaks. When I come downstairs in the morning, it is not unusual for Julio to beckon me over to the computer, shouting excitedly, ´´Mas Cascadas! Mas Cascadas!´´ (More Waterfalls! More Waterfalls!) This means he wants me to look at more photos of the waterfalls that glide down the mountains of his homeland. There are even pictures of Julio holding Claudia and Santiago, when they are just babies, on the top of snow covered peaks. Julio is a Montanista (a mountain man) - this is why I had no inkling of danger when he told me, ´´Today we will climb Rucu Pichincha!´´

Pichincha is the volcano which, in 1999, erupted into an 18-km high mushroom cloud and blanketed Quito in ash. Of the volcano´s two summits, Rucu Pichincha (4,680m) is the dormant peak, which is considered completely safe to climb. Luckily for us, volcanic eruptions would be of no concern today…

To get to Rucu Pichincha, Julio and I take a bus to the outskirts of the city and then ride the famous ¨Telefériqo´´. The Telefériqo is a sky tram (think ski lift) that carries us 2.5 km through the air. On the trip, the clouds float below us, the trees are distant dreams, and Quito shrinks to about the size of a postcard. We share the ride with Nicole, a 20-year-old journalism student at DePaul University in Chicago, and Andrew, a 24-year-old from the outskirts of London, who is traveling through Latin America during his ´´Gap Year´´ between university and work. They are both wonderful people, and when we finish our Telefériqo trip it is decided that all four of us will make the six hour round-trip hike to the summit together, with Julio acting as guide.

Though the sky is misty, the trail is beautiful - winding us through golden mountain grasses and rust-colored rocks. Every so often we see the trickle of a ´´cascada´´, which signals us to look down towards brilliant green moss growing on the boulders below. Cheerful conversation is alternated with appreciative moments of silence and the chirp of unseen birds. As we pass the various wildflowers which dot the hill sides, Julio teaches us their indigenous names and quizzes us on them periodically throughout the journey.

After a couple of hours, the clouds thicken, and the trail becomes nearly completely vertical. We are all getting a bit tired, and Nicole is especially, as she has only had a couple of days in Quito to adjust to the altitude. This is the first, of what will be many times, when Julio will reassure us, ´´We are very close. It is not much further… Very close…´´

We, admittedly, got off to a late start in the morning, and as we continue upward, the trickle of people we see returning from the peak has slowed to almost no one. Nicole´s breathing has gotten heavy and all of our footsteps feel like they weigh a ton. Multiple times, Andrew, Nicole and I wonder if we should turn back, but the promise of the mountain peak is too strong. Julio reassures us, saying, ´´We are very close… only 30 minutes more… maybe less….´´ I have complete faith in Julio, as my host father and an experienced mountain guide. There is no hint of concern in his voice.

After another hour, the peak of Rucu Pichincha is at last visible, but Nicole can not physically go on further - the altitude is overwhelming. She genuinely wants us to reach the peak, and now that we can actually see it, we figure it will be safe for Nicole to wait below, as we scramble up the last few craggy rocks. When one combines thin air and the promise of a mountain peak it seems that reason is too easily suspended…

Out of breath, but elated, Andrew, Julio and I at last reach the summit. We take photos with the Ecuadorian flag and then Andrew and Julio smoke celebratory cigarettes (which is pretty much the last thing I would want to do on the top of a mountain - but to each their own…) We are worn out, but there is light in the sky and the rest of the hike will be down hill. We are still in good spirits when we return to Nicole, and as we begin our descent, we even take time to drink some of the coffee Julio brought and take delicious bites of chocolate bread. We are the last people on the mountain top, but we figure we have enough time to make it back to the Telefériqo before dark, and certainly before the last trip down the mountain at 8:00….

Climbing down from the peak proves to be strenuous work - there are definitely moments when it feels like we are rock-climbing, without any of the appropriate gear. We decide to take what we think will be the quicker, main path back to the Telefériqo, rather than the back road Julio brought us up on. Though there is still light in the sky, the tone of the hike has shifted to a more intense focus, each of us conscious of the coming night. Julio alone seems to be fully confident of our safety. ´´It is not much further… We are fine… Just a little way longer…´´

Moving as quickly as we can, no time or energy is wasted on talking. The sky is definitely beginning to darken and after a couple of hours, the possibility of missing the final Telefériqo trip down the mountain becomes more and more real. In the mean time, Nicole has become increasingly exhausted, and is beginning to have difficulty walking on her own.

At last we reach a sign of ´´civilization´´ - a barbed wire fence with trash littered around it. We think we can hear the sound of cars in the distance. There is only about an hour left until the last Telefériqo trip, and even less daylight. We all know that if we miss the last Telefériqo trip it will be almost impossible to get back down the mountain. This is the only moment I see a bit of hesitation on Julio´s face, but he quickly orients himself and points us toward the appropriate path - ´´yes, yes - this is it - just 30 minutes or so more - very close…´´

Darkness has arrived, and, in addition, the clouds have thickened completely. We have flashlights to illuminate the path, but can´t see anything that´s more than a few feet around us. Definite worry has set in, and Nicole is now incapable of walking without support. The path we are taking is leading us uphill, which seems counterintuitive. Julio re-assures us that we are heading in the right direction. ´´We are almost there… there is still time´´ Nicole, Andrew and I are far less confident, but have no better sense of what direction we should be heading in.

8:00 has arrived and we have no idea where we are. Julio is up ahead, but almost out of eye sight. For the first time, what feels like desperation begins to set in. With the last Telefériqo ride out of reach, Nicole, Andrew and I decide to sit for just a moment and make a plan. One very real option is that we will have to spend the night on the mountain - but we are up high, it is cold, and we are completely unprepared to do so. The other possibility is to keep going and pray that we come close enough to ´´civilization´´ to find help. Neither option seems entirely physically possible at this point. Nicole is becoming short of breath.

Julio comes back to tell us that he is going further up the hill to try to find cell phone reception. We don´t know if we can continue much longer uphill, and so Andrew, Nicole, and I wait behind, only shuffling forward now and then to keep ourselves warm. The possibility of making it off the mountain now seems fairly impossible, so we begin to pool what knowledge we have of creating emergency shelters.

I took outdoor survival classes in high school, but the wilderness around Seattle is blessed with sticks, ferns, and decomposing leaves galore. Building shelters there was easy - here on Rucu Pichincha we are surrounded by nothing but rocks and wispy grasses. Andrew mentions that he saw on the movie, ´´The Day After Tomorrow´´ that if you rip the pages out of a book and crumple them up you can put them in your jacket for insulation. This seems as good an idea as any, so Andrew commences to rip out the pages of his ´´Lonely Planet, Ecuador´´ guide and crumple them into balls to put into our coats.

We are huddled together for warmth now, shrouded by nothing but our clothing, the clouds, and the Lonely Planet. Time has become difficult to gauge, but Julio has probably been gone for an hour or so. None of us know how much further the temperature is going to drop during the night, but the possibility of it becoming dangerously cold seems very real. Our breath seems to freeze in the air.

Finally, we hear a voice calling from uphill. It is Julio. He tells us he was able to find cell phone reception and that walking back down the path will lead us in the right direction. The prospect of walking further seems daunting, but the idea of shivering our way through a night on the mountain motivates us to move forward.

After walking a good ways back down the hill, we are still as lost as ever. Eventually, Julio, instructs us to huddle amongst a patch of reeds, and we assume that he, too, has come to the conclusion that we must spend the night on Rucu Pichincha. As we sit within the grass, Julio walks further down the path and I pull out a bottle of Gatorade for us to hydrate with. Suddenly we hear a very distant shout - a voice that isn´t Julio´s…  and then we hear Julio reply… a moment passes, and then the first voice shouts again! Smiles break over our faces, and the Gatorade in my hand feels more like a bottle of Champagne… We have been found! As if on cue, the clouds that have covered the sky all day begin to dissipate and the stars and city lights of Quito are revealed before us. Laughter breaks out as we toast to the beginning of a happy ending….

We are brought back down the mountain by the Telefériqo guards who found us and then driven back to Quito by Julio´s brother. What should have been a straightforward 6-hour hike turned into an unexpected 12-hour adventure on Rucu Pichincha. As it turns out, when we were at the crossroads with the barbed wire fence and trash, we were not far from the Telefériqo - we simply took the wrong turn. Nicole calls the aunt who she´s staying with in Quito and discovers that her parents in the states have already filed a missing persons report for her at the US Embassy. Though we all know we should have been better prepared for the trip, there is no sense of blame, just joy at our being back home. We all sleep well that night, and in a couple of days are well enough to celebrate our survival with a night of salsa dancing…

Viva Quito!

This week is the celebration of the ¨Foundation of Quito¨, marked by non-stop parades, dancing in the streets, and general merriment. The streets are jammed with ¨chivas¨ - open-air double-decker buses which feature a live brass band on top and all-you-can-drink canelazos below. Singing, laughter and chants of ¨Viva Quito¨ fill the air….

Military Backer?

It is morning and I am walking through the Mariscal Sucre, the neighborhood where my Spanish classes take place (and which is affectionately referred to as ¨Gringo-landia¨ by the locals.) I hear a brass band starting up a block or so away and walk towards the music.  Before I can find the source of the sounds, I am stopped by a colorful stream of Quiteñas parading through the streets: Ecuadorian beauty queens toss roses into the crowd and clowns pull on 5-year olds´ears to make candy magically appear. The streets are filled with robots, pirates, birds and other folks in colorful costume. 

When the parade has at last streamed past, I find the source of the music on the other side of the street. A huge brass band dressed in crisp, white military uniforms is playing Ecuadorian favorites, as a mixed crowd of young and old takes to dancing in the street. I discover that this is La Banda Blanca, the national army band of Ecuador. 

Smiling and clapping my hands like the other audience members, I want to buy one of the CDs that officers are selling in the crowd. But in a way, doing so would make me a military backer, wouldn´t it…? Those who know me know that those are two words one would not often assiociate with Alan Wong. Yet the songs are so catchy and the singers so charismatic I can not help but buy the album, despite my reservations… Perhaps I am not immune to the fervor of nationalism….

 Written after seeing a separate, military parade:

Military Men 

Marching Through the Quito Streets 

 War is Never Far…        

Kissing Mangoes

It is Sunday morning and Anita, Julio, Jose, Santiago and I walk over to Susannah´s house for a big breakfast, featuring none other than Tree Tomato juice… The whole family is here - Max, Natalie, Claudia, Andreas, Marvin, and Andrew. (I have included a name key at the bottom of this entry so you have some idea of who all of these people are).

After breakfast, we pile into cars to drive to what I gather is a family home in the mountains. I am sitting on a couch in the back of a pick-up truck with Andrew, Santi, Claudi, Andreas, and Marvin. I laugh at the jokes that I´m able to understand, as well as the jokes that I can´t really follow. The sun casts Quito in a bronzey light as we wind our way through the outlying hills and villages.

When we arrive at the mountain home (which is painted a buttery yellow) we immediatley eat fresh mangoes. The mangoes are so juicy you can suck the fruit out through a small hole in the peel and  Marvin tells me this is how Ecuadorians learn to kiss when they´re just kids…. A great feast is prepared (as this is Marivn´s last day here before he returns to New Jersey). While we wait for the food to cook, the whole family takes part in a tournament of ¨Cuarenta¨, the national card game of Ecuador.

After dinner, music starts up in the kitchen and Anita and Susannah try to teach Andrew and I how to dance salsa. Jose (my 95-year old host grandpa) is smiling and clapping to the music. Upon seeing Andrew and my failure to dance salsa, Jose is helped out of his chair by Anita and proceeds to dance, gingerly, but gracefully, with Susannah… It is humbling and wonderful to find myself continually outdone by 95-year olds, as well as 5-year olds in Ecuador….

Burned by the sun

In the back of a Pick-Up

Quito is shrinking…

The ´80s are coming! The ´80s are coming!

Something I love about Quito: here the ´80s are not retro…. the ´80s have just arrived! When was the last time you heard someone say, ¨I think Brooke Shields is very beautiful…?¨It happens in Quito. How about the last time you walked into an impeccably hip bar and heard ¨Ooh, Heaven is a Place on Earth¨ by Belinda Carlisle come blaring over the sound system…? Been a while? Well, this sort of thing is an everyday occurence in Ecuador. I am in love with the utterly un-ironic affection many people here have for the song, ¨Total Eclipse of the Heart¨….

Not having traveled internationally for so long, I assumed the internet would have obliterated the kind of cultural time warp I experienced while traveling in China in the ´90s . During that trip,  songs and groups who were famous in the States before I was born  - the Carpenters, Carly Simon, and, mysteriously enough, Auld Lang Syne - were big hits… Luckily for me, time travel is still possible, and the plasticity of time, space, and culture is more than just a heady concept….

¨Turn Around Bright Eyes..

Every Now and Then I Fall Apart…

Turn Around Bright Eyes¨    

- Bonnie Tyler, Total Eclipse of the Heart

The Poetry is in the Streets

This morning I am eating breakfast at a  sidewalk cafe not far from my Spanish school. Like most restaurants I eat at in Quito, I have chosen this one because it is constantly filled with locals eating Ecuadorian specialties. I am surrounded by sharply dressed, elderly Quiteñan men  wearing suits and berets - matching handkerchiefs tucked primly in their pockets. These men look like they have been sitting here chatting and drinking coffee for the last 45 years or so… In Ecuador, lingering adoringly over a meal is expected and encouraged.

As I eat my breakfast, I am reading a book of haiku and travel writings by the Japanese poet, Basho. Looking up from my reading momentarily, my eye is drawn to graffiti  spray-painted  in crooked, red letters on a building across the street. The graffiti says, ¨La Poesia esta en Las Calles¨ I have learned enough Spanish to know that this says, ¨The Poetry is in the Streets¨. I take this as a cue to pull my nose out of my book and return to my surroundings - a choice Basho himself would have approved of, I´m sure…

¨Go to the Pine if you want to learn about the Pine,

Or to the Bamboo if you want to learn about the Bamboo¨

-Basho

Who´s Who (Name Key)

Anita= My host mother

Julio= My host father

Claudia= My host sister

Santiago= My host brother

Jose = Anita´s Father

Susannah=Anita´s Sister

Max= Susannah´s Husband

Natalie= Susannah and Max´s daughter

Andreas = Claudia´s Husband

Marvin = Anita´s nephew a couple times removed (visiting from New Jersey)

Andrew = Fellow Seattlite, who lives on and off with Anita

                                                                                

Out of Range

Just boarded the plane to Quito - I am sitting behind an Ecuadorian nun in full habit and surrounded on all other sides by middle-aged Japanese women wearing pins that say ¨Crystal Heart¨. I feel my cell phone buzzing and pat my pocket to make it stop. When nothing happens I remember that I don´t have a cell phone anymore…

Famous

Upon arriving in Quito I realize that I have no idea what my host mother, Anita, looks like. She could be any of the countless, expectant faces I see as I cross the Customs finish line. I am relieved when I see a kindly looking Ecuadorian woman holding a sign that says ¨ALAN WONG¨. It´s exciting to see my name etched in cardboard in a foreign airport….

La Familia

It´s my first day in Ecuador and Anita has informed me that tonight we are going to ´´El Centro´´, the famously beautiful and well-preserved historical district in Quito. After two hours of driving, three car switches, and multiple stops, our party has grown from two to twelve and I am quickly getting to know Anita´s entire extended family. My mouth is almost worn out from saying ¨Mucho Gusto´´ so many times, but I mean what I say - I am very glad to meet this warm and welcoming ´´familia´´.

At last we arrive at ¨el cafeto´´, a bright and elegant cafe located in El Centro. We smile, sip ´´canelazos´´ (hot cider, with cinnamon, fruit juice, and an un-named liquor), and dine on ´´humitas´´, a kind of softer, Ecuadorian version of tamales. I speak what fragments of Spanish I can with Claudia (Anita´s daughter) and Andreas, who are young and happy newlyweds, Marvin, their cousin, who lives in New Jersey now, and Natalie, Anita´s niece. Natalie also speaks English that she learned in South Carolina (without a trace of a ¨Southern¨ accent) and pines after American corn cakes. After a while I have to admit to Natalie that Seattle is not such a hot spot for corn cakes…

Silent Salud

I am sitting in the kitchen with Jose, Anita´s 95 year old father. All Jose is able to say these days is an occasional ´´si´´ or ´´no´´ - so our spoken vocabularies are pretty much on par. But Jose speaks with his eyes. When I say ¨buenas tardes´´ his lips crease into a smile and his black eyes shine brighter. When I say ¨que tal´´ (how are you doing?) his eyes say ´´I´m fine, and you?´´When I say the fresh pineapple juice we are drinking is ¨muy rico¨ (really great) his eyes flash knowingly and he begins to laugh. After a while, we both return to silence, raise our juice glasses and drink an unspoken ´´salud´´ (cheers).

Tree Tomatoes

Just finished a breakfast featuring my favorite new juice of all time, ´´jugo de tomate de arbol´´ (tree tomato juice). Until yesterday, I had no idea what a tree tomato was, and I still am not entirely sure, but it´s juice tastes like the best strawberry smoothie you´ve ever had….

The Middle of the World

This morning, Anita is ushering me into a car with Diana, one of her friends. ¨Today we are going to the Middle of the Wold´´, Diana tells me. La Mitad del Mundo (the Middle of the World) is the equatorial line, featuring a monument, museum, and various handicraft vendors. From what I´ve gathered, being taken there is akin to going to the Space Needle in Seattle - the requisite tourist destination (that few locals ever visit themselves).

We had fun at La Mitad del Mundo and here is where I should include a photograph of myself smiling goofily as a I stand with my legs on either side of the equatorial line…. however, for some reason my digital camera has not been working since I got here. I will leave a couple of blank spaces here for you to visualize the picture…

Hambre Hombre

Though I do not begin my formal Spanish classes until Monday, I have been learning much just by being here and getting to know Anita´s family. I am humbled and grateful for the good humor and patience of all of the people I have met on this journey so far. Here is an English translation of some of the conversations I´ve been having to this point….

¨Hello, how are you doing?´´
´´Good, how are you? My name´s Alan. It´s great to meet you!´´
´´Yes, it´s great to meet you - do you like bulls…?´´*
´´Yes´´… (I hesitate a moment), ´´but I don´t like…´´ (now I make the motion of a toreador stabbing a bull)… ´´it´s sad…´´
´´Yes, I don´t like it either…´´

*During the celebration of the ¨Foundation of Quito¨, which is the first week of December, bull fights are a main attraction.

OR…

¨The food in Ecuador is really great, don´t you think¨
Me: ´´Yes, the food in Ecuador is great. I really like Tree Tomato juice!´´
´´Yes, Tree Tomato juice is great!´´
´´I am a man!´´
¨What?´´
´´I am a man!´´
Laughter… ´´Oh, you are HUNGRY..´´

With red cheeks, I have now discovered that though ¨hombre´´ and ´´hambre´´ sound similar, they have very different meanings….. Still, it makes me wonder if ¨Hungry Man´´ brand TV dinners here are called ´´hambre hombre´´… ?