Ecuador Part 1 of 1: Sibling Adventures

Well, shit. The whole trying to post once a week thing really went downhill there. But I’m going to take a tip from my students and give a slew of excuses on why I haven’t been doing my homework. The first one is that work decided to get real busy, but for a good reason, one that will be explained more fully in the next post (at this rate, look for it in March). The second is that I just recently got over some wicked form of traveller’s sickness where you could only find me curled up, shivering in my bed for a few days with a monster headache and debilitating fever. Getting sick stems from my third excuse: that my sister, Molly, decided to come on down for a visit as part of her Central and South American tour of visiting friends and family before her new job started out in Colorado.

I got about as many excuses as Genie has wish conditions.

This is a map.

Is that her hand or was someone on that beach towel before her?

Our first couple days were spent here in Colombia, showing Molly the sites, sounds, but mostly smells of Bogota. We made it to the classics of any South American city. You know, a church or three here, a plaza or four there. A highlight for me was going to the Botero museum, dedicated to the work of a Colombian painter who’s obsessed with comically large human beings. While we were roaming the halls in honor of our big-boned brethren, I noticed a younger man taking his time to take a picture of almost every painting. I therefore felt less weird about snapping shots of these voluptuous subjects to share with you all.

I finally let this goon sleep on my bed
our last night in Cuenca.

After two short days of monks and teachers finding out how much better my sister’s Spanish is than my own, we hopped on a series of flights to get to Cuenca Ecuador, where we stayed with a Lutheran missionary couple whom Molly had met years ago when she worked in Ecuador. Legend has it that when my sister was first flying to Ecuador in 2008 to do conservation work, she met Lynn, a Lutheran pastor who ran a seminary with her husband and who invited Molly to stay at their place instead of a sketchy hostel. We stayed in the guesthouse of their newly renovated property in Cuenca, their hospitality buoyed by their son’s dog, Sasha, who they take care of most of the time.

We spent most of our days with Molly’s fellow Yale Forestry graduate, Katherine, who she worked with in 2008 and is now the executive director of the Conservation work done in Sangay National Park. So our first full day was spent trudging through remote Andean farmlands. Part of what Katherine does is work with local farmers to define grazing land near or within the park and how to utilize it in a way that doesn’t place too much stress on the environment. 

Let the water go, cows. Let it go.

This day, we discussed different ways to manage erosion of stream banks on one particular farmers land. To put it simply, stream bank erosion is a problem as it washes sediments downstream and creates mini canyons, which becomes a hazard on grazing land because cows need the water and either can’t get it at, or fall when the soil gives way under the weight of their beefy butts trying to reach for it. Picture Indiana Jones reaching for the Holy Grail that’s just out of his reach. It’s basically the same, but cows don’t have Sean Connery telling them to let it go. 

Conservation work can tend to get glorified a bit these days, since what essentially commenced was hours of discussion with the landowner about what plants to plant where that would take root and help prevent erosion while also presenting a boon for his animals instead of endangering them. It might not sound fun, but how often do you get to walk along mountain streams talking conservation with local farmers in the Ecuadorian Andes while dodging runaway pigs and dogs? Also, the farmer gave us shots of his own blackberry moonshine, which, besides being half sugar, wasn’t too bad.

 

Doing science, sort of.

Obstructing the view from Diana and Mauricio's Quito pad.

We then made our way to the hilly city of Quito. We stayed with Diana, the sister of one of Molly’s best friends in high school (Emily), and her husband, Mauricio. Originally from Cuenca, Mauricio made the journey to the states when he was nineteen, the only valuables he took being the baggies of cash to bribe police and immigration officers at various checkpoints along the way. He had some wicked stories ranging from seeing friends arrested to getting unexpected help from complete strangers, and I’m sure there were some stories we were not privy to. He found his way to Minnesota, where he worked in kitchens until meeting and marrying Diana. I’m not clear on all the details, but shortly after, it was discovered that his documents weren’t in order, and the two were forced to move back to Quito while his papers get reprocessed. In the meantime, they both teach English at different schools in Quito and live in a very nice apartment with a beautiful view of the entrance to Quito, volcanoes in the background.

Mauricio's cheesin' makes up for
my sad attempt at a smile. Also, fanny pack. 

Since we were in Quito for less than 48 hours, we just wanted to see the... well, the must-sees. That meant a few more squares and a few more churches. But most of all, I enjoyed chatting with Diana and Mauricio. Since the four of us know Spanish and English (yours truly clearly on the lower end of that totem pole) our conversations flowed between the two languages, depending on the native language of who was getting the most riled up talking about religion, politics, race, immigration, all the things you’re supposedly not supposed to talk about over dinner. But through those discussions, as well as those with Katherine and her friends in Cuenca, I probably learned more about Ecuador than I know about Colombia.

Oddly enough, included in the highlights of Quito was a particular cab ride we took. Molly and I had just visited an art museum of Oswaldo Guayasamin, an Ecuadorian who painted huge paintings about human suffering, slavery, race and religion. We hailed a cab a few blocks down the road and were unsettled by a few things. First, the dude didn’t turn on his taximetro, the counter that keeps track of the cost of the ride. If drivers don’t have it, that’s a good sign that it’s not a real cab and they’re likely to charge you exorbitantly since you don’t know better. Also, when Molly finally convinced him to turn it on, it was green instead of the regulated red lights, further unnerving the gringos aboard. When we finally got out, it was about a dollar. But the dude hit a button on it and it jumped to $1.45, after I had already started to hand him a dollar. If you know my sister at all, you know she didn’t take kindly to the driver insisting that the minimum for a cab ride was $1.45. And if you know me at all, you know I just shrugged at the driver as if to say, dude, this is a battle you won’t win. Now, I know what you’re thinking. And yes, we argued over forty-five cents. Later, when he was cooking some extravagant dinner for us, we asked Mauricio if there was indeed a minimum cab charge, to which he responded, oh yes, it’s $1.65. When he turned back to the stove, I looked at Molly and we exchanged another sheepish shrug. Woops.

Spanish word of the Day: Going with a tricky verb here. Conocer has quite a few meanings, but we'll stick to the most common. Firstly, it means to know, but with regard to people or places. Yo conozco JJ would be "I know JJ" and nosotros conocemos Quito would be "we know Quito" but in the sense that we've been there, not just that we know of its existence. This last one I didn't figure out for a while, and I always thought it was strange that people were asking me if I know of places in Europe, Asia, or the states. Now people probably think I've travelled everywhere.  

Song in my head lately: I don't listen to a lot of Bronze Radio Return, but when I do, it's usually Shake, Shake, Shake. It's a pretty short song, so I try to pay for a longer one at the Middy. But if this song doesn't at least get your head bobbin', you don't like music.

J.

We also hiked Cajas National Park, Ecuadorian Middle Earth just outside of Cuenca.