Adventures of the Cuy

The Drywall on my Ceiling

2008-09-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

So, now that we are back in the States, all the interesting things that happened to us in Ecuador are still happening to us. Except now they are happening in English so I understand them a little bit better. If you have some time, and think that a discussion about the drywall on the kitchen ceiling could be interesting, check out this link.

The Return of the Cuy

2008-09-04T17:12:00.001-07:00

We arrived back in Alexandria last Saturday night. Opa and PoPo were there to meet us and our 12 pieces of luggage at National Airport and cook us a welcome home stuffed shell dinner (one of Maya and Jonah's favorites).

Now, we've been home almost a week. Sad to say how easily one becomes accustomed to the old routines again. It's like someone hit the pause button on Alexandria and only released it when we got back.

Our last day and a half in Quito was spent running around doing last minute things so we didn't have a chance to linger over the things that we liked about the city. There was no last visit to Parque Metropolitano to admire the views, no final leisurely stroll through the narrow streets and pretty squares in the old town. Maya and Jonah didn't get to terrorize the pigeons in the plaza fronting the Iglesia de San Francisco again.

Instead, we spent the hours doing what any self-respecting American would do - shopping.

It wasn't until we were flying over the city that had been our home for the better part of three months that it really hit me that this was it - we were leaving Quito and I might never return there. Truly, it is a sad thought.

I spent some time during the last few weeks of our adventure trying to figure an answer to the question I knew we are bound to hear again and again - how was it?

"Good!" just doesn't seem to cut it.

Not even an enthusiastic "Neat-o!" really delivers the message.

As I tried to explain in an earlier post, our plan this summer was to find out if we could live overseas generally, and specifically, if we could do so with children. We haven't really learned the answers to those questions. But I think we've gotten a little closer.

First of all, we learned that we can live overseas. And we still want to, but not right now. What we learned was that we really like the life that we have right now in Alexandria. We have a great house (with a beautiful new front door that I had completely forgotten about) in a great neighborhood. Rebecca really likes her work and we are close to our families, who love and support us. The people and families who live on our block and in our general area really create the sense of community that we thought we were lacking. We knew we liked these things, but it took being away from them and from our home to realize that right now, it will be hard to find something as good as what we already have.

Second, we learned that we can live overseas with kids - but not the two monsters that we have right now. Maya is five and Jonah is three. We figure that in five to seven years, they will both be much better behaved and more inclined to want to do things other than be carried. Probably this is a pipe dream, but, if I can steal a line from Ernest Hemingway, isn't it pretty to think so?

Finally, I personally learned a lot - both about stuff and about myself.

The old adage that you can't teach an old dog new tricks turns out to be false. The greatest apprehension I had when Rebecca and I decided in the Fall of 2007 that we would spend the summer of 2008 in Ecuador was that I didn't know a lick of Spanish. Frankly, I had pretty much given up any hope that I would ever learn another language well enough to communicate with someone without having to draw pictures in the dirt. But, look at me now. Although I had to ask a lot of people to repeat themselves, I managed to 1) not get us lost; 2) not eat anything really gross; and 3) not get punched in the face.

And the realization that my old, tired brain can handle another language well enough made me realize that it isn't really that tired. I had just put it in a jar on the top shelf. This trip has inspired me empty out the jar, stick the brain back in my head and learn a few more things.

At some point early in our trip, I decided that I wanted to become an EMT. After Rebecca told me what an EMT actually has to do, I decided that a first aid class might satisfy me. But we'll see.

I read (figuratively) about the first thirty pages of the epic that is South American history. I want to learn more. We thought that the U.S. Cavalry sucked in how they treated Native Americans, but they have nothing on the Conquistadors (read about Pedro de Alvarado sometime. Hell, read about Francisco Pizarro - the conqueror of the Incas. He was a mean bastard too).

But probably the biggest thing that I learned is that even when you are thirty-eight and married with children, life does not have to be predictable. We met so many people who are chasing their dreams or acting on impulses that I couldn't help but realize the possibilities that are open to me. I feel very fortunate to have options and to have done something that made me realize that the dreams I had ten years ago are still attainable.

Oh. The other thing that I learned is that no matter where in the world you are listening, The Kinks rock.

Picturebook

2008-08-31T12:22:00.000-07:00

We are back in Alexandria. I am working on a sum it all up post, so stay tuned. In the meantime, hope you enjoy these pictures.

The Beach - Canoa
Running around in circles on the beach in Canoa:
Banana break:
Maya, invoking the spirit of the sea from the bow of a local fishing boat:and then plunging to her death (figuratively, of course):
Jonah does everything his sister does (but not as well):Seaside dinning (thanks for the picture Maya!):
Making friends with local kids at the beach:
and at a swimming hole outside of Canoa:

Picking out dinner, delivered by the fisherman - straight from the sea to our bellies. Lobsters on the left. Giant crabs front and center:
Feeling good in the courtyard at Olmito's, the hotel where we stayed in Canoa:

On our balcony at Olmito's:
Maya's knight without shining armor:

Rio Muchacho Finca Organica, north of Canoa.

Ecuador has the highest rate of deforestation in the world. The area where the Rio Muchacho Organic Farm is located has the highest rate of deforestation in Ecuador. The finca has been operating for about ten years and the co-founders (Dario and Nicola) try to engage the locals (who all farm) in more efficient and self-sustaining farming methods. Rio Muchacho has adopted the perma-culture method of farming. Perma-culture means that each aspect of the farm complements the other. For example, the cows and pig poop is composted. The compost is picked clean of bugs by the chickens. The cleaned compost is then given over to the worms. Once the worms have worked through it and pooped it out, the worm poop dirt (which is apparently the best fertilizer you can have) is used to grow the crops. The crops go to feed the people who live and work at the farm and also to feed the cows and pigs. And the cycle continues. There's more to it than that, but that is the twenty-five second summary.

Maya adored feeding scrap food to the pigs, who truly do live up to their name:
Jonah loved picking bananas and feeding the peels to this donkey (who was named "Donkey"):

Maya and Crystal visit the cuyes (guinea pigs), by climbing inside their hutch and terrorizing these animals, who clearly aren't used to being picked up and cuddled. At the finca, rather than cute pets or tasty dinners, the cuyes are only used for their poop, which falls from their hutch into the worm beds below, mixed with cow poop and pig poop, and left for the worms to eat.

Milking the cow (I actually knew the grip to use):
Love to the fishies in the river:
Jonah's birthday cake: lemon cake made with local lemons, frosted with chocolate grown at the farm, decorated with edible hibiscus flowers picked outside the kitchen. You can see that he's a bit overwhelmed by the whole affair:
We took a horse-ride
to a waterfall

where Maya had a great time:
and Jonah fell asleep on the smooth ride home:

The local harvest and harvesters:
Farmer Jonah:

and Maya with her harvest:Roasting cocoa beans:
grinding them

and eating the chocolate syrup
which made Maya's second front tooth fall out:
Making cheese, a wet piece of curdled milk that couldn't win honorable mention at a cheese show even if it was the only entry (no offense meant to any Ecuadorians who actually like this stuff).

The giant Matapalo tree
Climbing the giant Matalpo tree
In the courtyard of the communal dining area
Rubber boots are a vital component of farm attire. I never went anywhere without them:

There were animals on the farm in addition to the domesticated ones. This tree frog was on our bathroom door one night. Do you know the difference between a frog and a toad? I do:
And this reptile was trying to cross the road on our way out of the farm. A real-live boa constrictor.
Dario Proano, one of the farm's co-founders and a devout vegetarian, pushed the boa in a new direction (i.e., out of the road), so it could live to kill and eat another animal.After the farm we went back to Canoa. But we were out of cash so we had to go to Bahia, a one-hour bus and panga journey, where the closest ATM machine was located.

This is Jonah with Miguel, a 100 year-old Galapagos turtle who lives at an Eco-school in Bahia. Notice the trash strewn about the courtyard:

A few days later walking on the beach in Canoa, we came upon a sea turtle that had washed up after being struck on the head. It had a cracked skull. Some locals conjectured that it was caused either by a propeller from one of the local fishing boats, an angry fisherman and an oar, or even by a shark bite. We tried to push it back into the surf so it could swim away, but all it wanted to do was die on the beach. It could barely move and kept trying to get itself out of the water. Sad, but it was neat to see the turtle close up (and touch it). We didn't have our camera, so no picture.

After the farm, Jonah's new love: carrots!

Canoa to Puerto Viejo to Manta to Quito, with a couple of crybabies

2008-08-28T17:40:00.000-07:00

The last seventy-two hours have seen us travel lots of kilometers by truck, panga, taxi, bus and airplane to four different cities and three different hotels. As you would expect, it has been pretty miserable - primarily because of the kids. They whine and cry starting from the minute that they wake up and lasting every second that they don't get exactly what they want.

That's not entirely true, but Rebecca wanted me to stop painting such a rosy picture of life with the kids on the road. Truthfully, I'm looking forward to getting home just so I can send them to Opa and PoPo's house for the weekend. We all need a break from each other. I really pity those parents that have to spend all day every day with their kids because they don't have parents or family nearby to ship the kids too a time or two a week.

While Maya and Jonah have been pretty good a lot of the time, they also make things so much more difficult a lot of the time. And while the ice cream bribe is still a 100% success in getting them to do what you want, I've been trying to employ it a lot less (it doesn't do mornings).

Below is a photo from our hotel room in Canoa. We really loved the place that we stayed - Posada Olmito. We really loved Canoa. Rebecca and I have recently seriously considered coming back in a few months to look into buying some property. We are certain it is a good investment, but didn't have the idea early enough to make it happen this time around. Plus, we had the kids with us.

One of the things we liked was that the guy in the below photo (wearing the number 11 shirt) delivered fresh bread to us every morning. He rides around town starting at about six-thirty a.m., honking his horn to let you know he's coming. Because town is pretty small, you can hear him coming for awhile. If we could actually sleep past six-thirty, it might be annoying. But, Maya and Jonah rarely make it that late. So, we'd always be awake. Rebecca and Maya would stand on the balcony of our room (or hang out the window), flag him down and make the exchange. He'd toss up bread and we'd toss down seventy or eighty cents - depending on how many loaves. Then we'd have fresh bread and jam. It was something to look forward to at that ungodly hour, at least.

Here's a couple of other photos of Canoa. In order, they are 1) the courtyard of our hotel from our balcony - looking towards the ocean; 2) Maya's photo of Jonah looking out our window and munching his morning bread; 3) a view of the beach and ocean from the entrance to our hotel.

Anyway, we spent our last night in Canoa (Tuesday night) much like we spent the previous four nights - partying. Rebecca discovered this Ecuadorian knock-off of Kahlua and we imbibed an entire bottle while watching the sun set over the Pacific with our friend Brian.

We spent a lot of good times with Brian and images of him will definitely be scattered through whatever brain cells we have left that have bits and pieces about Canoa. Here he is in digital.

After breakfast at our favorite restaurant in town - the Coco Loco (Maya and Jonah liked it because there were these two puppies there that they could play with)

we took a final walk around Canoa on Wednesday morning (accompanied by lots of whining from Maya and Jonah and yours truly (I was "tired")).
Then we hitched a ride out of Canoa on the back of a large rack truck that had four or five propane tanks in the back resting on a bed of wood chips. Nothing like traveling for free and in style.

By the way, say goodbye to that hat of Rebecca's. She left it on the bus a few hours after I snapped this photo.

Once we got to Bahia, we planned to take a $30 taxi ride for two hours fto Manta, but the other hitcher in the truck talked us into a more economical solution - a bus ride. It would have been great, however, the bus didn't go directly from Bahia to Manta - we had to first travel two hours to a dump of a city called Porto Viejo. To get to Manta we had to take a taxi an additional half hour and ten bucks. Add the ten to the $8 for the bus ride and we didn't end up saving that much. And the $12 we did save we promptly blew on an $85 hotel room.

The one perk to the hotel in Manta was that it had a pool. On Thursday morning (today, as it were) when Jonah and I went for a swim, there was some weird thing going on with this beautiful, well-endowed women and two men and a camera. The weirdness involved her laying around the pool area in a very small bikini top (do they make a thong for tits? If so, this was it) and a butt thong and the men video-taping her. When Jonah and I weren't swimming, we were comfortable in the shade eating sunflower seeds. We spent all morning at the pool.

Combine this free show with the free wireless internet that made Rebecca so excited, and there was a little something for everyone.

After a quick lunch, (where Rebecca also brought a panama hat from a vendor that came into the restaurant)

we made it to the airport in time for our flight to Quito. For the next two nights we are at a pretty cool place called "Posada del Maple". I'm sitting in the hotel common area taking advantage of their free wireless while Rebecca is probably sleeping upstairs.

Earlier she was talking to another family that is staying here that is two months into their year long travel through South America with their five year old and and two year old. They are convinced that they have the worst behaved kids in Ecuador.

Cuba Libres in Canoa, Again

2008-08-24T10:58:00.000-07:00

We returned to Canoa yesterday (Saturday) after our much anticipated week on the Rio Muchacho Organic Farm.

The farm visit lived up to expectations. Maya and Jonah enjoyed feeding the pigs (pigs really do eat anything), milking the cow, riding the horses, gathering eggs (well, gathering the one egg that a hen left in the saw dust box by the toilet every morning) and being allowed to go to bed without a shower every night. They also enjoyed crying a fair amount and being carried everywhere they went.

On Friday, Jonah turned three and the ladies who cook at the farm prepared a great lemon cake with chocolate icing. It was decorated with these big fancy red flowers (that you could eat!) and Jonah was pretty much speechless. Though he did manage to blow out the one candle stuck in the cake pretty easily.

So, now we find ourselves back in Canoa after spending a week here before going to the farm, trying to figure out what to do for the last few days of vacation before we return to Quito on Thursday and to Virginia on Saturday.

Canoa, as a beach desitination, did not look promising when we set out to get here from Manta a few weeks ago. The taxi ride from Manta to Bahia was alternatively through banana/rice farms and mountainous desert several miles inland from the coast. The mostly paved, heavily potholed road was littered with piles of trash on either side and passed through hot, dusty villages where the people seem to make trade in loitering and selling coconuts to each other. Each time we managed to successfully pass a slow-moving truck or bus without being crushed by oncoming slow moving trucks or buses, our taxi driver would give me a thumbs-up. We liked him. We got his number so he can drive us back to Manta from where ever we are on Thursday for our flight to Quito.

As we approached Bahia, advertised as an eco-city and stopping point for many a rich, yankee yacht-owner, the piles of trash got higher, but the road did widen to two lanes. We took a panga across the bay to San Vicente (a panga is a wider, smellier version of a canoe. Until the bridge that is under construction is completed, panga is the only way across. I don´t know why it took until 2008 to begin building a bridge. I guess the car ferry was working so well, they figured, what the heck to we need a bridge for) and then hopped a taxi for the final 15 or so miles to Canoa.

Finally, as we approached Canoa along a mostly smooth road that paralleled the beach, things came into a better view. Here and there some nice looking habitaciones dotted the landscape, and the beach was a wide, undeveloped, masterpiece of sand and waves.

When we turned off the main road, we crossed three unpaved roads and dead-ended in the beach, and our hotel - Posada Olmito (I´d link the hotel website, but Rebecca said it sucks.)

I met an American shortly before we left Quito who had spent some time in Canoa a year ago. He described where the town ended (at the Coco-Loco hotel/restaurant) and was sure that it would be developed quite a bit to the South from there already. Turns out that the town has developed by about two more blocks - including the Posada Olmito. In a town that runs four or five blocks north to south, two blocks is quite a bit.

But still, the development is light years behind the over-development common to East Coast beach towns. Canoa is basically a main street that fronts the beach. It´s lined with ¨hotels¨, restaurants, shops, and bars. Only as you move further south do the places start to get taller than two stories. Most of the places have names like The Bamboo, The Surf Shak, Casa del Mar, Playa Bar, etc. etc. During the week the main occupants in town are gringo-surfer types. During weekends town fills up with Ecuatoriano´s down from Quito, mostly, for the weekend.

The beach is about a football fields length from road to ocean. It´s clean and safe and swimmable at low or high tide. In the morning, the fisherman come in with their haul of lobsters, crabs, and various fish (including baby hammerhead sharks!). We brought five lobsters (about 4 to 6 inches in length each) and two enormous crabs that we are having the lady who does it all at the hotel cook up for us tonight. She cooked us some lobsters when we were here a few weeks ago and it turned out pretty awesome - thus, the repeat performance.

Posada Olmito is owned by a Dutch guy that has been in South America for decades. The hotel is simply designed - eight or ten rooms on two stories around a central, sand courtyard. There are privtae or shared baths and showers. We got a private bath, but I end up taking all my showers in the public ones to keep sand out of our room, which turns out to be impossible anyway. I´ve never seen Rebecca with a broom in her hand so often.

Anyway, the hotel is a very friendly place - we basically treat it like home. We leave the kids playing there when they don´t want to cross the street to come to the beach with us. I walk behind the front desk to get whatever I want - which is mostly beer from the refrigerator. thw owner writes down our tab and then tears it up when we´re done for the night. It´s that kind of place.

Canoa is that kind of place. It´s the kind of place that when I was younger, I might wake up hung over five out of seven mornings a week. As it is, we´ve settled into a pretty easy routine of waking up, buying some hot bread from the guy that rides his bicycle around town tooting his horn to let us know he has fresh bread. We can lean out the window to our room and he´ll toss it up for us. Then we head to the beach until the breakfast places open up. After breakfast, we head back to the beach until noon-ish. Then we eat lunch. When the sun is out it can get pretty hot, so after lunch we tend to hide in the shade for a few hours until it´s time to go back to the beach to make a bonfire and have rum and cokes before dinner. Yesterday we shared our bottle with a few Ecuatorian women that happened by. It turned out to be great fun - though at two p.m. my head is still a bit sore.

Jonah has been totally into fires lately. He´ll carry a stick that he finds on the ground around for hours until we build a fire so he can throw it in.

Because the beach is beautiful, safe, and further development is coming, we have considered the place as an investment opportunity. Some local was dangling a beach-front, two-cabana property a few kilometers north of here in front of us for $40,000. It´s fun to think about, but we probably won´t do anything.

We did met a few americans here that we have also been sharing bottles and stories with. One guy, David, is mostly retired and owns property (he built a house here in Canoa on one lot and grows trees on his other lot, a few kilometers up into the hills), the other guy, Brian, is a pilot and has been here about two years. Since we got back here, we haven´t seen David and Brian is in Quito - maybe on his way to Greece if things worked out for him.

Anyway, because I am at an internet cafe, I can´t post pictures and I can´t write more about our impressions of this part of Ecuador or more detailed accounts/stories of the last few weeks. I will say that one night in Canoa I distinctly remember (but only because I wrote it down) Chris (one of Brian´s friends from the States who was visiting) saying, ¨I wouldn´t mind seeing if that guy has anything else besides corn.¨ The possibilities of what happened before and what could happen after someone forms a sentence like that are endless.

So to conclude, we are safe, mostly-happy, and outwardly healthy. The next few days may have us going to Puerto Lopez to get on a whale watching tour, paddling a canoe up the Rio Chone to the Isla Corazon to look at some mating frigate birds, driving up the coast to Jama to look at the property that is for sale, or just hanging out drinking cuba libres on the beach. We haven´t really made a decision yet.

Finally Shorts!

2008-08-15T11:54:00.000-07:00

From Guest Blogger, Rebecca:

We arrived in Canoa on Tuesday, after a blissfully hassle-free trip from Quito. Rather than opt for the 12-hour overnight bus ride to paradise, we hopped on a 30-minute flight from Quito to the coast. All flights should be so short. It´s not that this country is so big, but that the roads are generally pretty poor and there are mountains bisecting it, making road travel unbelievably time consuming. With 2 kids, our days of roughing it on day-long buses is sort of out of the picture.

The weather here is perfect and I am thrilled to put on shorts for the first time this whole summer! We´re staying at a really cool beach-side hotel. The common areas are sand and the kids love playing there. It´s a new and small place, so very homey. There´s no restaurant, but this morning the manager of the place bought $8 worth of lobsters (about 8 of them!) and will cook them up for us for dinner!

Though it´s summer high season in Ecuador right now, Canoa is relatively quiet. The waves are supposedly good for surfing, so there are quite a few surfers around and a handful of travelers, but nothing like what a US beach looks like on any summer weekend. It´s nice and tranquilo.

I´m trying to post some pictures, but this connection is pretty poor and it´s not cooperating. I´ll try again later and leave the longer descriptions to Paul. I think he plans to visit the internet cafe one of these evenings when I´m getting the kids to sleep.

A Dinner Party and a Birthday Party

2008-08-11T18:02:00.000-07:00

Before I get to a brief (I promise!) description of Maya and Jonah's last day at school, I have a follow-up observation to raise regarding our jungle trip. Mosquitoes did not seem to be a problem to us when we were there. Oh sure, we saw some, especially on the jungle walk. But they were not the pesky varmints I am familiar with from Virginia. In fact, we thought we'd come through the jungle mostly unscathed.

But whoa-nellly. Apparently, bites from a jungle mosquito, due to some freak Darwinian evolutionary twist, only become itchy and obnoxious days after the fact. We (Rebecca and I) are now discovering bites where we didn't believe we had any. And even in places where we were mostly covered by clothes. My ass looks like a dozen mosquitoes ran a track meet on it.

See, the city mosquito can afford to have its bite itch immediately because as soon as you shoe it away, some other sucker comes along to take your place. With the abundance of ample flesh, the city mosquito has become lazy. It's forgotten where it came from.

But since jungle mosquitoes don't see a lot of people, they have to be alert and stealthy enough to chew on the few that they do see as much as possible without being discovered and squashed. So, they have developed a magic bite that doesn't appear or itch until a day or two after they've hosted a dinner party on your back.

And man, when they itch, they itch. But, the amazing thing, the thing that makes me feel one with nature, is recognizing the symbiotic relationship between the mosquito and the piranha. I couldn't jump in the Cuyabeno River now. With all my bleeding mosquito bites, the piranhas would rip me to shreds.

So, the Monday before we left for the jungle (that's a week ago today) Maya and Jonah hosted a party for their last day of school. Since Jonah knows that his birthday is coming up (August 22), he somehow got it into his head that the "going away" party at the school was his birthday party. Since it was so cute to see him excited about it, we played along.

On the Saturday before the party, he and I went to pick out a pinata. He's been really into playing with toy cars lately, and I thought he might pick out a car. But he stayed true to his first love - he picked a ball.

Then, we got some gumballs, candy bars, and individual serving size bags of peanuts to put inside the thing. We had a fun time stuffing it when we got home.

And of course, the kids had a fun time when it was busted open and the candy spilled out.

We also ate some ice cream sandwiches. Jonah didn't seem to care that we didn't sing happy birthday and that he didn't get any presents.

August 10 and Everything After

2008-08-10T11:38:00.000-07:00

Today is Sunday, August 10. We spent most of the morning packing to leave for the beach and home. We plan to spend the afternoon out of the apartment so Maya and Jonah don’t kill each other. In fact, it's 3 p.m. now and we are out of the house.

When we got back from the jungle on Friday night, we found that our internet was not working. I’m posting this and the following posts about our jungle experience from an internet café.

Rebecca called the internet company for service, but the earliest someone will come is on Tuesday. That does us no good because Tuesday at noon we fly to Manta, which is on the coast, to begin the “beach” part of our vacation. We are not staying in Manta. As soon as we arrive we will take a taxi, then a ferry, then a bus and hopefully arrive in Canoa with all our parts intact.

We plan to stay in Canoa until Sunday, August 17. On Monday, August 18, we head to the Rio Muchacho Farm for a week. Maya is especially looking forward to seeing some farm animals.

The early part of the following week, August 25-27, we will try to hook up with Paul and Sylvia and their children somewhere along the coast. Those plans are still in development.

We return to Quito on Thursday, August 28. We will stay in a hotel that Kumi (our cook) recommended for two days. Here's a picture of Kumi and Maya in our kitchen.

We fly home on Saturday, August 30.

Because I am not sure how reliable internet service is where we are going, and because I am not certain how often I will want to spend time away from the beach to sit in an internet café, this may well be the last post from Ecuador. If that turns out to be true, thanks for coming along on this great adventure with us.

I will eventually post about the experiences we had in Canoa, at the farm, etc. And hopefully, I’ll have some wisdom to impart about our overall experience and what we learned (I mean what we learned collectively, not all the dirty Spanish words that I learned).

The Jungle Book - Day 1 - The Cuyabeno River Lodge

2008-08-10T11:22:00.001-07:00

Morning – Getting There

We got to the airport in plenty of time for our 9 a.m. flight to Lago Agrio. The Liga soccer team that recently won the South American Cup Championship was also waiting to board a flight to the Oriente (to a city called Coca) for a match that afternoon. Not being familiar with TV, we didn’t recognize any of the players. Nevertheless, Rebecca was easily able to pick out which ones she wanted to play ball with.

The flight to Lago Agrio was perfect. It took thirty minutes and the morning was so clear that we were able to spot three snow-capped volcanoes from the plane – Cotopaxi, Chimborazo, and an unidentified third. The descent into Lago Agrio, which is just 250 kilometers from Quito, was over landscape that had changed to flat and green. Lago Agrio is about 300 meters above sea level, whereas Quito is about 2800 meters above sea level. Of course, everyone remembers from high school that a meter is equal to approximately one yard and a kilometer is equal to approximately 6/10 of a mile.

As we disembarked onto the airstrip, surrounded by tropical foliage and armed Ecuadorian soldiers (LA is only about 20 kilometers from the Columbian border), I was instantly reminded of what we are missing this summer in Northern Virginia, heat and humidity. I did not feel nostalgic for home. I just felt hot.

Our private transport to the entrance of the Cuyabeno Reserve was waiting. Thankfully, we were whisked through Lago Agrio, which, as you can see, isn’t much of a town unless you are an oil roughneck or are into dust, exhaust fumes and confusion.

But little did we know that the roughly three hour journey to the park entrance would be the most dangerous part of our trip.

The jalopy we piled into had more creaks and squeaks than an orgy of octogenarians on a rusty bed. The driver consistently screeched around turns and accelerated unreasonably on straights. We ran right into a dog and killed it. That didn’t stop us though. It barely even slowed us, even though the dog owner and family were right by the side of the road when we thumped it.

About the only good thing that happened on the ride to the park entrance was that it started raining. The driver had to turn the windshield wipers on. But all they did was smear the windshield so I couldn’t see the road anymore. What a relief.

After we left the city of Lago Agrio, the landscape was that familiar tropical vista that we have seen in other developing countries. Wood plank walled shacks with rusting corrugated tin roofs, in a landscape of softly rolling alternating green/bare hills, palm trees and tropical plants, with the usual mix of garbage, mud, and liberated dogs, roosters, hens, pigs, and cows. About the only difference between this landscape and say, Puerto Rico, was that oil money had caused the road to be paved for half the distance to the park.

When we finally did reach the park entrance, a dozen or so other gringos were standing around waiting for their canoe. We paid the park entrance fee and passed the time waiting for our canoe by watching Jonah throw stones into the river.

Finally it arrived and we were off.

Afternoon – The Cuyabeno River

The canoe ride up the Cuyabeno River to the lodge was advertised as taking a half-hour. It took ten minutes. This turned out to be not so cool as I could hear the low rumble of trucks and buses as I lay in bed at night. I was hoping we would be located more remotely so we would have a better chance of seeing wildlife.

Upon arriving at the lodge, and ascending the dozen or so steps from the river to the main staging area,

we were greeted by the lodge’s mascot – a baby woolly monkey named Melissa. The woolly monkey is an endangered species and the lodge obtained Melissa from the ministry of environment office. She was quite fun to watch and play with during our stay.

Her she gets acquainted with Maya and Jonah.

The main lodge where we ate our meals and mingled with the other guests was flanked on either side by four or five “cabins”. I use the term loosely because I believe that cabins actually have four complete walls, and these structures did not. This design allowed easy access to our room for Melissa. But we learned quickly to hide our small items so they wouldn’t end up in the river.

Despite missing parts of two walls, the accommodation was fine. Rebecca and I decided that this was the most rustic accommodation we’ve had since staying a week in a tree house in Palolem, India a decade ago. It’s good to sleep under a mosquito net every once in a while.

The cabins were connected to the main lodge by raised boardwalk. In the wet season, December to March, the river rises to a level that covers the ground under the lodge and cabins and even up into the jungle behind the lodge.

It didn’t take long to figure out why this lodge was cheaper than so many others. The dessert to our lunch was canned fruit cocktail. We got a couple of other canned goods during mealtime – but overall – who cares?

After lunch, we took a canoe ride up the river to see what we would see. This turned out to be not much. We saw a bunch of birds, including the red kingfisher, a medium sized bird with a bright red breast and a long beak, and that was pretty cool. But the coolest part of the ride was just seeing the lushness of the jungle, how plant grows upon plant grows upon tree, the hanging vines and trees growing up out of the river and understanding that you are in this climate that exists in so few places in the world.

The most exciting part of the ride was that two of these spiny caterpillars that you do not want to touch, fell into our canoe. Maya was not very pleased to see them. We eventually got them back onto land.

About a hundred meters from the lodge on the return trip, we were told we could jump out of the canoe and ride the current the rest of the way. After inquiring about the chance that a piranha would rip us to shreds, a few of us dove in.

Basically, piranhas only go into attack mode if they smell blood. So, if you have no open cuts or sores, you are probably safe. Rebecca stayed in the canoe so she could take pictures. Maya and Jonah stayed in the canoe too, but they had a nice swim in the river from the lodge steps after we docked.

The Jungle Book - Day 2 - Rebecca Takes it on the Chin

2008-08-10T11:03:00.001-07:00

Morning – The Jungle Walk

The morning activity for Day Two was a walk through two of the four different types of rainforest topography – lowland and highland. We would visit the other two topographies – swamp and lagoon – on Day Three.

Rebecca and I suspected that the hiking parts of the trip would not be greeted with exuberance by Maya and Jonah, but we expected them to last more than the fifteen minutes that it took for us to stomp through the lowland mud.

I was prepared to turn back with them, but Rebecca graciously offered to take them back to the lodge and let me continue on. I accepted the challenge.

At 21 years old, our guide Romulo, is in his fourth year of guiding tours. He is native to the area and had a new Che Guevara shirt for each day we were at the lodge. He has a saying that roughly translates to “the jungle is for those who love it, not for everyone”. He clearly loves it.

On our walk, Romulo identified different trees, leaves, nuts, plants and vines and described how the native tribes use the wood for spears or arrowheads, the leaves for paper, the nuts for buttons and jewelry, and the plants and vines to weave baskets and jewelry or to use as cables and ropes. He spotted and identified different frogs, spiders and mushrooms and showed how the poisons from each could be used on arrowheads for hunting or drawn by insects for hunting or for protection (and, in some cases, prepared and eaten by humans to no ill effect). I ate these mushrooms after Romulo burned the poison hairs off.

Romulo also pointed out at least a half-dozen different types of ant nests, including leaf-cutter ants, hunting ants, army ants, and the evil-looking conga ant. You can kind of make it out in this picture. It's the red thing.

The conga ant is about a half inch long and has mandibles that, Romulo said, can sink deep into your skin and bite you five times before you know what the hell happened. He said that the bite of twenty ants could kill you. The thing was nasty-looking, so even I refrained from volunteering to be bit.

Romulo also identified a type of tree to which lemon ants are partial. Lemon ants get their name from their lemony taste. Romulo cut some twigs in which the ants build their nests (and kill the tree in the process) so we could all have a taste. Lemony!

I took a twig back to the lodge so Rebecca could have a taste, but Maya enjoyed them too.

Here is a bunch of other funky stuff we saw. A big fat toad that Romulo just pulled from under a bush as we walked along.

A bug Romulo had never seen before. He let me name it. I called it the volcano bug.

This nest. But I can't remember if it was an ant's nest, a termite nest, or a wasp nest. One of the nests that Romulo showed us is used as a skin protectant. You take bits of the nest, mix with water to make a paste, and smear it on yourself. Let's pretend this is the nest. It could be. They all looked pretty much the same - large and brown.

And this funky tree with the red roots.

The two disappointments of the walk were that Rebecca wasn’t there, and that we didn’t see any wildlife.

Both of these were remedied at lunch. Just as I sat down next to my lovely wife to dine on something from a can, Romulo spotted two yellow-handed titi monkeys snacking on some fruits in the nearby trees (don’t laugh at the name. Titis does not mean the same thing in Spanish as it does in English. There is a different Spanish word for “titties” that is not nearly as much fun to say).

Afternoon – Fishing for Piranha

After an afternoon siesta, which Jonah and I spent swimming in the river from the steps of the lodge and Rebecca and Maya spent prone on the bed, we piled into the canoe to head upstream for some piranha fishing.

Piranha fishing is done with wooden sticks, fishing line, a hook and chunks of raw, red meat. After you bait your hook and drop it into the river, you dip the tip of your fishing stick into the water and splash it around to imitate the sound of a struggling fish. The noise attracts the piranha close enough to smell the raw meat, and then it attacks. As soon as you feel a tug on the line, you jerk your fishing stick violently upwards to hook the fish.

In our case, however, the violent upwards yank on the stick by the surprised fisherman results in the hook flying out of the water, devoid of meat, and into the air above the boat. If one is lucky, the hook and line tangles in the overhead branches. If one is unlucky, the hook lodges in someone’s arm. If one is really unlucky, the arm belongs to the same someone.

Jonah was really looking forward to going fishing. And it was really cute to see him standing in the boat making a racket with his fishing stick. But alas, he’s not much for feeling tugs or for pulling the stick out of the water fast enough when he felt a tug. So he didn’t catch any fish.

Initially, Maya was timid about being in the boat after the caterpillar of pain dropped in on us the day before. But, when she saw how much fun it was to splash the fishing stick around in the water, she got excited to try. She proved expert at making a racket, but not so expert at hooking the fish.

A few people in our group of ten did catch fish, but none were big enough to keep. The following day, on our trip to the Grand Lagoon, Romulo hooked several big red piranhas and yellow piranhas (he threw the red ones back because he said they are not good to eat). He put a stick in the mouth of this yellow piranha and the piranha bit the thing right in half with one chomp.

We took the fish back to the lodge and the cook broiled them and served them for dinner. They were very tasty – not fishy-tasting at all.

Rebecca asked for the teeth for Maya and Jonah to bring to show-and-tell and so we could make them into a Christmas tree ornament – but we ended up forgetting them at the lodge.

The Jungle Book - Day 3 - River Journey

2008-08-10T10:49:00.001-07:00

Morning – The Perfect Storm

Right after breakfast we set out in the canoe for the three-hour journey down the Cuyabeno River to the Grand Lagoon. Along the way we would go fishing and see what wildlife we could see.

Both ventures proved very successful. Romulo caught a few big piranha for us to bring back to the lodge and eat, and we ended up seeing just about every animal we could have hoped to see – except the jaguar shark.

About an hour into the ride, we saw a colony of about two hundred squirrel monkeys in the trees along the river – jumping and eating and climbing. Later, on the ride back to the lodge, we saw a pair of big, hairy Parahuaco Negro monkeys. They were sitting high up in a tree and I don’t even know how Romulo spotted them. We sat and watched them for awhile and then they just jumped out of sight. Like, okay, I got to go. See you later. I wonder what they had to do?

Shortly after watching the squirrel monkeys, and right as Romulo mentioned that this is the part of the river where we might see river dolphins, two river dolphins began splashing around in the river.

We saw tons of birds, including a toucan and something called a stinky turkey. Apparently a stinky turkey gets its name from the smell it makes when it is cooked. That’s one way to protect yourself, I guess. Not sure how they taste.

Seeing a wild toucan was similar to when Rebecca and I saw parrots flying all over the Taj Mahal grounds in Agra, India a decade ago. We’ve all seen these birds before, but essentially, we’ve seen them behind bars. To see it flying around in the tree tops and then out of sight is a bit surreal.

We also saw a wild pigeon. It looked very similar to its city cousin. But not as fat.

The river changed as we got to nearer the Grand Lagoon. It flowed up over the banks and into the jungle so you couldn’t tell where the jungle began and the river ended. A few times, the driver aimed the canoe through these narrow channels between the trees and plants and we found ourselves, essentially, in the jungle instead of on the river.

As we finally came out into the Grand Lagoon, we headed to a camp the lodge has set up for overnight visits. We only docked to eat lunch, pee, and stretch out a bit (by this time it was nearly 2 p.m. and we’d left the lodge around 9.30 a.m.).

Just as we pulled into the camp, it began to rain. We could hear the rain coming over the palms and other trees and had just enough time to hustle under the covered area before the rain hit. Poor Maya had fallen asleep in the canoe and the rain in her face woke her. But that was okay, it was lunch time.

An hour later, as we piled back into the canoe to explore the lagoon, it stopped raining and the afternoon sun came out.

Afternoon – The Grand Lagoon

The Grand Lagoon is a deep lagoon connected to the Cuyabeno River. The Cuyabeno River eventually runs into the Napo River further east in Ecuador, which runs into the Amazon River in Brazil.

Because of the elevation and vegetation surrounding the Lagoon, the water is black. So when I opened my eyes underwater later when we were swimming, I saw nothing except a white haze above the surface. It was kind of spooky to look around and see nothing but dark.

In the middle of the lagoon, we all went swimming from the canoe, even Maya and Jonah.

Earlier, we had gone hunting for Caiman (which are small alligators) by splashing chicken parts here and there along the edges of the water. Before we jumped in we asked Romulo if Caiman came to the deep water and he said they did. We jumped in anyway, and even though the water was great and we all had fun, there was an undercurrent of nerves. I need both my legs.

While we were splashing about, Rebecca pointed out that all the things you are taught to do to scare fish away (splash) attract predators (piranha, caiman) in the jungle. It’s hard to swim quietly when Maya and Jonah are hanging on your neck trying to drown you.

Eventually we got back in the canoe and went to search out more caiman. We didn’t see any. That night some of the others in the group went out and did see some. Romulo picked it up, showed them how to hold it so it couldn’t nibble fingers, and they all got to take pictures holding a caiman. Rebecca and I and the kids were sleeping while all this was going on. Too bad.

The ride back to the lodge from the lagoon was in a perfect late afternoon sun. The way the light was cast on the trees and river was really idyllic. It made you feel like you were someplace special doing something that you would remember.

The Jungle Book - Day 4 - Back to Quito

2008-08-10T10:37:00.000-07:00

Morning – A Second Jungle Walk

After breakfast, Jonah and I hit the river for a swim and Maya and Rebecca slipped into their boots for a walk in the jungle.

They saw some cool stuff. One of the things they did was leave the piranha jaws to be cleaned by ants.

They also learned about a walking palm tree. The tree sets roots down a meter closer to the river each year, drawing itself closer and closer. Eventually, it falls right into the river. Nobody said it was smart. This one still had a long way to go.

Here we are right before we board the canoe to leave. That's Maya giving Melissa a hug goodbye.

Afternoon – A New Driver

Rebecca had requested a different driver than the one who brought us to the lodge. Having survived the first trip, we didn’t want to push our luck.

The driver we got was good enough not to hit any animals. Along the way, we picked up six more adults and some kids who hopped right into the bed of the pick-up and shouted when they needed to get out. I felt kind of elitist to be the one sitting inside the truck when women and children sat in the bed, but at least it didn’t rain on them.

We got to the airport with nothing of consequence happening. Maya and Jonah at the airport waiting for our plane to arrive. When it landed, it turned around and headed back to Quito (with us in it). Lago Agrio does not have a very busy airport.

One annoying thing that happened on the drive was that the driver’s daughter, who was sitting in the passenger seat, kept throwing all their garbage (a liter coke bottle, a few plastic bags) out the window of the truck while all our garbage went into my pocket. Rebecca asked her why she did it, but she didn’t answer. We don’t think she heard the question. You would think these people would have a little more respect for their own home.

Knock, Knock, Knocking on Danger's Door

2008-08-03T08:01:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was a little boy I've pictured the jungle as this haunted, steamy place filled with cannibals, quick-sand, large snakes and covered pits with spikes in them. I think this picture was drawn while reading "Jonah Hex #16". In that issue Jonah is hired to travel to the Amazon Jungle to make an amazing rescue, and he encounters cannibals, quick-sand, large snakes and covered pits with spikes in them.

This week, we get to find out if the comic book was true to the reality. Both Rebecca's mom and my mom have each asked about the danger inherent in our travel plans. Of course, we tell them, the jungle is as safe as any other place that is home to enormous snakes, jungle cats, alligators, and man-eating fish.

But seriously, in case anyone else cares, we will be in very little danger. Our jungle tour is very tourist-class. On Tuesday morning we depart Quito for the Oriente (that means East in Spanish. East is where the jungle is). But alas, there are no machetes nor trailblazing involved. For obvious reasons (Maya and Jonah) we are not opting for the 9-hour adventure bus ride to the park entrance.

Instead we're flying to Lago Agrio, an apparently rough and unpretty oil town, where at the airport we have to put on these stickers
so the local criminals can easily identify us. Then we get into a private car for a 3-hour ride to the entrance of the Cuyabeno Wildlife Reserve. From there, we journey by canoe to our lodge, the Cuyabeno River Lodge:

The lodge is advertised as an eco-lodge. This means there's no electricity, hot water, or internet access. And they compost our poop. But, other important parts of civilization have come to this part of the world - they have beer.

We are staying only 4 days at the lodge, so hopefully we'll avoid any malaria and yellow fever carrying mosquitoes. Just in case though, we intend to protect ourselves from virulent mosquitoes by covering ourselves in the carcinogen marketed as Deet.

From what we've read, there are lots of animals living in the jungle. But, we have also read that the animals are more afraid of us than we are of them. And with the racket Maya and Jonah make simply brushing their teeth, we won't be sneaking up on anything. So, we are hoping that we get to see a lot of wildlife, but aren't holding our breath. Should we run into any flesh-eating animals, I'm the fastest runner in the family, so I'm comfortable with my chances for survival. I'll miss Rebecca and the kids, but such is life.

One of the daily options for tour activities is swimming in the Cuyabeno River, where piranhas and caiman (small alligators) live. In this instance, all the noise that the kids make when they go anywhere will hopefully scare all danger away. And anyway, we've been told that real-life piranhas aren't the ravenous, frenzied school of flesh-eating fish that we all think they are. But it would be pretty cool if they were and we got to see one of the other guests get devoured. Keep your fingers crossed for us!

We return to Quito and this apartment on Friday evening. As long as all my limbs are still attached to my body (well, as long as I still have my arms) I'll post a full report.

Happy and High on the Altitude

2008-08-02T19:24:00.001-07:00

Tonight, we went to a party thrown by Rebecca's office. Americans! Conversation in English! Kumi catered and cooked up a ridiculous feast.

Friday (yesterday) was Rebecca's last day at work! On Tuesday, we leave for our vacation. First stop - the Amazon Jungle.

Maya lost her third baby tooth finally. Her top two teeth have been loose since before we arrived in May. In the past week, it's gotten looser and we kept thinking it was on the verge of falling out. On Thursday morning, Maya even let Rebecca tie some dental floss to it to try to yank it out. The floss came undone; the tooth stayed put. Today, the gums finally released the captive, to much joy all around. We learned that the tooth fairy character in Ecuador is a mouse named Sanchez.

On top of all that good news, I just found out one that Jim, of my best friends from high school, is moving back to the east coast after almost two decades on the left coast.

I'm happy and high on the altitude. I think I'll go dance to some Black Sabbath.

Here are some pictures for you to enjoy.

The Battle of the Beards

2008-07-31T09:22:00.001-07:00

I have not shaved my beard since we arrived in May. When I went to England for a semester while in college, I didn’t shave during the entire four month trip. When I arrived back home, I was able to walk right up to my mom before she recognized me. I doubt that will happen now - my bald head gives me away.

Because my Spanish class was canceled today, the house is clean and I have nothing else to do before I go to pick up my children, I am soliciting opinions on which is the better beard. Scroll down to the bottom of the page to vote.

Here’s a picture of me then (bottom photo) and two minutes ago (top photo) after about the same amount of time of unclipped growth. Notice the cool glasses in the then picture.

The Origin of the Ritual

2008-07-31T07:27:00.000-07:00

There has been an ongoing battle in the DC area, including in Prince William County, Virginia, over laws targeting immigrants by attempting to curb their access to public services and increasing immigration enforcement by local police. You can read the latest chapter here.

Northern Virginia and the DC area in general has a large Latino population. There is an immigrant custom, which I thought was unique to the area, where skilled (or are they unskilled?) laborers congregate each workday at a public place, for example, in a 7-11 parking lot, so that contractors who need day labor can drive by and find the help they need.

In an effort to systemize this process in a more orderly and lawful way (i.e., help people find work, learn English and become part of the community. And, of course, let's not forget the more important issue of making sure the appropriate employment and income taxes get paid) and in response to local businesses complaints about the unsupervised gatherings (littering, unsightliness of large Latino crowds outside a particular business) many counties in the DC area have opened employment centers that offer a range of services to prospective day laborers.

For various reasons that I won't get into, many of these employment centers have been protested by right-wing conservative pigs. In jurisdictions where the local government has no spine or vision, the result has been the immigration policy reflected by PWC.

We have followed this battle closely for two reasons. First, because all issues immigrant are near and dear to Rebecca's heart. Second, because one of her main rivals in high school is currently a big-whig on the PWC Board of County Supervisors and is always getting his picture in the paper over his inane quotes.

Each day on the way to school, Maya, Jonah and I pass the same phenomenon. Dozens of men standing around on the street corners, ostensibly for work.

Each man displays, according to his trade, either a paintbrush and roller, dry-wall trowel, or plumbing apparatus.

Here is a man and his plumbing apparatus.

And a closeup of some more apparatus.

Today, for the first time, we saw some of these men get picked up for work. It was exhilarating. As we approached in our taxi, a truck pulled up and a dozen of the guys went running to it as if they were going to receive a free watermelon. Maya and Jonah each had their nose pressed to the taxi window to watch the show.

The truck drove away with four or five guys. It was heartening to see that this corner ritual is not just an excuse for the guys to get out of the house early in the morning to play cards and drink rum with their friends. They actually want to work.

There was visible dejection in the postures of those who did not get selected. Heads hung, no bounce to their step, paintbrushes slung just a little bit lower on their belts. I felt badly for them.

But, it is interesting to see that the method to find employment in Virginia, which I thought was required by circumstance (no papers + minimal English = day laborer work), has its beginnings here in Quito (and, I have to believe, in the other urban areas in Central and South America). It's a learned behavior that is imported to the States. It's interesting, but what would be more interesting is if someone would get it into their head to import chochos con tostados.

There's Always a Bright Side

2008-07-30T12:41:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we got out our plaid shorts, pulled our socks to our knees, slung the 35 mm Nikon camera around our necks and played tourist.

On Saturday we took the bus to the zoo. The zoo is located about 32 kilometers from Quito, in a village called Guayllabamba. Guayllabamba is set in a beautiful, green valley with some amazing looking flowering trees that we didn't take any pictures of. But here's a picture of Maya with the valley behind her.

The zoo is set in the hills overlooking the valley and is dedicated to fauna native to the Americas, and primarily, South America. So we got to see monkeys, condors, enormous wild pigs, some kind of jungle cat, the only type of bear native to South America, and a bunch of enormous turtles that are only found in two places in the world - the Galapagos Islands and the zoo in Guayllabamba.

The turtles were pretty cool because they were actually awake and moving around. I think it was the first time I've ever seen a turtle this big get off its duff and walk around for the crowd.

There was also a petting/feeding zoo that the kids liked. For a dime, you could buy a cup of carrots and feed the llamas, cows, goats, sheep, rabbits, or cuy. Or, as Maya chose to do, you could eat the carrots yourself.
Rebecca said the cow reminded her of an ex-boyfriend, but she wouldn't tell me what it was about the cow that reminded her.

Instead of taking the bus home from the zoo, we were lucky to be able to hitch a ride with a couple on their way back to Quito. The woman is American, and is teaching English in some jungle city in Columbia. She and Rebecca had a good conversation about the FARC while Jonah ate crackers and made crumbs all over the back seat of the guy's truck. The woman actually said she felt safer in her city in Columbia than she did in Quito. Rebecca gets the feeling from her work as well that foreigners (i.e., Americans) are relatively safe in Columbia - and that the violence is directed only towards the locals.

One of the fellas that I know from work is currently traveling in Columbia. You can check out his blog here.

As we hit the outskirts of Quito on the ride home from the zoo, I noticed a snow peaked mountain to the southeast. It was Vulcan Chimborazo. Even though there are several snow caps that we are supposed to be able to see from the city, this was the first time that we'd actually seen one, so we were very excited. It was like a postcard - this bright blue sky with a snow-cap stuck in the middle of it. We thought we might be able to see it from the roof of our apartment buidling, but our apartment sits on lower ground than the road we were traveling so we could not. Too bad.

Chimborazo is an inactive volcano thought to have last exploded about 10,000 years ago. We literally drove right past it when we drove to Cuenca with Paul, but it was so cloudy that day we couldn't even make out a shadow. At 6310 meters (about 21,000 feet) Chimborazo is the highest peak in Ecuador and was once thought to be the highest peak in the world. It still enjoys the distinction of being the furthest point from the center of the earth, and the closest to the sun, due to the bulge around the equator.

We couldn't get a picture of it because we were moving, and buildings and what not kept getting in the way, but here's a photo we got from a book. It's either Chimborazo or Cotopaxi. I'm not sure.

On Sunday we took the bus to the Mitad del Mundo - which translates to the middle of the world. In case you can't figure it out, the Mitad del Mundo complex straddles the equator, which, if you remember from geography class, separates the northern hemisphere from the southern hemisphere. And of course, just to tie up all the loose ends - Ecuador gets its name from "equator".

(Column Intermission I - When Ecuador declared independence from Gran Colombia (consisting of roughly the combined territories of Panama, Venezuela, Columbia, and Ecuador) in 1829, it considered three names for itself - Quito, Atahualpa (who was the Incan ruler who invited Pizarro and his men to Cajamarca, where Pizarro promptly murdered him), and Ecuador. I'd say the best name won.)

At the Mitad del Mundo, we couldn't resist the standard goofy tourist trick - Look, I'm in the northern hemisphere. Now I'm in the southern hemisphere. Now half of me is in the north and half of me is in the south. It was fun. Here, the girls are in the Northern Hemisphere and the boys are in the Southern Hemisphere.

On this particular Sunday, there was a lot going on at the middle of the world. There was some dancing,
some guys dressed up in costumes
and some ice cream eating.

At one point, a shaman came around asking for a volunteer. Rebecca, who is, of course, always up for something cultural, jumped right up. But, I think she's going to regret it this time.

On the bright side, we didn't have to buy her a seat on the bus ride home. We just hung her from the rear view mirror.

Life is a Shit Sandwich

2008-07-29T16:44:00.000-07:00

That’s a direct quote from a judge I worked for when I was fresh out of law school. He had issues. Lately, though I've thought about it because I have issues. I feel like a bit of an ass regarding my blog posts recently.

Adventures of the Cuy was recently featured on a blog that my cousin, Jen, writes about her life in New York with a 40-year old husband. Jen wrote some really nice things about Rebecca and the work that she is doing, and even had a compliment for me. She said I’m pretty funny (she meant as in witty, not looking).

But I haven’t been in a funny mood lately. As reflected, I think, in my recent posts about homesickness, street kids, the prices of things, and this one.

So, on the one hand, I feel like I am letting down any of Jen’s readers who actually decided to check out my posts, not to mention what I am doing to Jen’s reputation. They come to me looking for humor and all they get is reality. And everyone knows that’s not funny.

And, on the other hand, I feel like I am doing damage with these sentimental and feeling posts to the macho image that I believe (probably foolishly) I project. But seriously, I’m bald, have skinny legs, and cried at the end of “Brokeback Mountain”. So how macho can I really think that I am?

Early in our stay here in Quito, during our first hitchhiking adventure, Maya, Jonah and I caught a ride from an American who had been here for a year with her family. She mentioned that her sons, I think they were around 7 and 9, were just starting to enjoy the experience. She related their enjoyment directly to the fact that they had only recently made good friends.

I’ve been thinking about that idea lately, primarily because I have no friends here. Certainly, my Spanish has improved a lot – I can order food and beer and get us around the city fairly easily. But, that gets old pretty quickly when you are trying to make a friend. My other problem is that although I can get my point across (I’m pretty sure), I have a hard time understanding when people talk back to me in sentences. It really limits relationship building when you can’t understand what people are saying to you.

So, in the earlier post about homesickness, I said that I was the only person in the family that wasn’t homesick. That wasn’t truthful, I now realize. I think that I am some degree of homesick. Not homesick for the lifestyle or comforts, but for the people that I can’t be with.

I want to drink a beer with my friend in his backyard. I want to play a game of backgammon with my friend that lives across the street. I want to bullshit with my neighbor in the park while he walks his dogs. I want to hug my mom again.

I wrote a poem about my condition.

Stranger

There are a million people in this city. But I can’t talk to any of them.
My best friend is the garbage man.
But all I dare say to him is hello and how are you doing.
I want to tell him how I imagine the tired, dusty women
hawking their candy and cigarrettes look at me like a modern day Jesus
and the New Man that El Che died for spends his afternoon in the park watching a volleyball game.
I want to tell him how the boot blacks have more polish on their faces than they do on their own shoes and the children juggle hope in the street.
I want to tell him how the dogs scavenge at night with their tails tucked between their legs and when the clouds part, I can hear centuries in the sunshine.
But I don’t tell him any of these things. I’m afraid that I won’t understand his reply.

So there it is. Another, unfunny, melancholic blog post from Comedy Central. But, truly, I don’t really think that life is a shit sandwich. I just used the quote to get your attention. Life is more like a salami and cheese sandwich with lettuce and spicy mustard. And that’s good.

The Year was 2008 . . .

2008-07-26T18:09:00.000-07:00

Ever see those lists that tell you what the price was for an item in a particular year? Like, in 1970, a gallon of milk cost this much and this much would get you a loaf of bread?

An ex-pat told me that you could live very comfortably in Ecuador on about $30,ooo a year. Of course, he told me, it's costing him about $60,000 a year to live - but chalk that up to his house being over the top, the full-time hired help that he employs, and the fact that he smokes. At a pack a day, two bucks a pack, that can add up.

As for the $30,000 figure he threw out there, I'll let you be the judge.

A liter of milk in a bag costs sixty-two cents. If you want your milk in a carton, it will cost you about thirty cents more.

A loaf of bread will run you about $1.20. A gallon of regular gas costs $1.48 and a few hectares of rainforest. Super costs $2.19 a gallon and the same few hectares of rainforest.

You can buy a fixed lunch at a restaurant - which means you get a bowl of soup, a piece of chicken, some rice, salad, desert and a fruit juice - for anywhere from $1.25 to $3.00. A whole rotisserie chicken costs anywhere from $5.99 to $7.50. We hired a cook and she charges us $10 a day to cook us dinner, not including the cost of the food.

A six-pack of the national beer - Pilsener - costs $2.90. Lately though, I've taken to buying my beer in a 22-ounce bottle at the local convenience store. Depending on who is at the counter, I'll pay between seventy to ninety cents for a bottle. I've started buying the larger bottles because they are returnable. The 12-ouncers get thrown in the dump, or the street. Recycling is a foreign concept here.

Moving on with the essentials, an ice cream cone - 2 scoops - is fifty cents. A grilled banana is twenty-five cents. A bunch of bananas is about fifty cents. Ecuador is the number one exporter of bananas in the world by a long shot. I think you can buy a whole banana tree for around a buck.

Fruit, generally, is cheap. A bag of strawberries - about 30 - is a buck. Six apples for a buck. Five pears for a buck. A papaya for a buck. You can get a dozen eggs for a buck too.

I got my hair cut for a buck. Apparently, this is based on how many hairs need to be cut. Maya's haircut cost $1.50 and Rebecca paid $4. PoPo had her hair dyed for $17. But don't tell her that I told you.

A bottle of water is a quarter. A five-gallon jug of water is $2.50. We boil water from the tap at who knows what cost. Someone told Rebecca that it's not the water that has the bacteria, but the pipes that the water runs through. So, if we could dunk our heads right in the reservoir, we'd have no intestinal worries.

The propane tank of gas that we use to fire our stove to boil our water costs $2.50. The same tank also heats our water for showers and laundry. We've gone through about five tanks since May 15.

Internet costs $50 a month, we think. This is the price our landlord quoted us, but we haven't seen a bill yet. Electricity cost us about $20 a month. The phone was somewhere around $20 a month also. Haven't seen a bill for water.

We pay around $600 a month for a furnished apartment, but we have seen similar furnished apartments for less. I understand you can buy a pretty nice house for around $150,000. Security is extra.

A bus ride is twenty-five cents, and most cab rides are a buck. Renting a car is about $1,000 a month. We rented a car from our landlord for $30 a day - a bargain since that works out to $900 a month. Because Maya and Jonah ate crackers in the back seat, we had to pay to have the car cleaned - which ran $12 for a full detail.

Twenty-five roses costs a buck. Flowers are the second highest export product of Ecuador (behind bananas). In fact, I've heard that because flowers are so cheap, it is an insult to bring them to someone as a gift. That didn't stop me from buying Rebecca two dozen roses for our 8th wedding anniversary on July 2. She already knows I'm cheap so what did I have to lose?

Fish, especially sea bass and trout, which for some reason are in abundance here in the Andes, can be had on the cheap. Shrimp farms line the coast of Ecuador. So, ceviche is generally less than five bucks. I've seen it for less than $2, but intestinal worries have scared me off.

You can get a dish of something called chochos and tostados for seventy-five cents. Chochos are similar to a lima bean (except they are white) and tostados are roasted kernels of corn. They'll also throw in some onions and tomatoes. This dish is missing the tomatoes because Maya ate them all.

You can also get a bag of something called mote with a word that I forget for eighty cents. The bag has three small potatoes, a big pile of boiled kernels of corn, and a few pieces of pork. Yes, it is as fantastic as it sounds. Every night there's a woman who wheels her mote cart to the front of the convenience store where I buy my beer. I love her.

So, I think that about covers the cost of essentials.

As far as recreation goes, a zipline through the tree canopy costs $15. But that price is negotiable. You can rent a four-wheeler or dune buggy for $10 an hour. And you can drive on the street with it.

You can buy bootlegged DVDs for a buck. A movie in the theater is four bucks. I already mentioned in the essentials section that beer is cheap. Wine is cheap too. A bottle of a Chilean red is less than five bucks. We purchased a bottle of $3 rum that tasted every penny of its worth. I put it in the freezer for a few weeks and then it was alright as long as I had plenty of Coca-Cola in the glass. There are more expensive options for liquor.

We had a suitcase repaired for $4. The cost to repair a bedroom door after you've kicked it in to free your child is $61. That was kind of nice. I'm sure that in the states, the contractor would not even have considered repairing the door.

Which reminds me, the other day Maya, Jonah and I spent about an hour watching a man repair the bricks in a parking lot. We watched him smooth sand into the work area, fit each brick into place, hammer each brick down with a mallet, and make sure it was all level by placing a 2x4 over the top.

I've seen guys here smooth concrete with a 2x4 as well. It's funny, because they don't build here using wood. All the structures are concrete. Many of Rebecca's clients at home are construction workers, and she has mentioned that they all mention how amazed they are at the flimsiness of U.S. construction. But, even in a country that builds with concrete, the 2x4 has a place. Whoever invented the 2x4 must be rich.

Work Ethic

2008-07-25T17:51:00.000-07:00

Occasionally, after Rebecca goes to put Maya and Jonah down for the night, I'll go to the convenience store near our apartment, buy a beer, and sit at the sidewalk table to people watch. The first time I did this, a boy, probably about ten, hit me up for some change.

He had the dirty look of a street kid. I asked him if he was hungry and he said yeah. I gave him some money and he went into the bakery next door and brought some bread. Now, every time I go out, before I even get to the store the kid is there asking me for change. It's like he has gringo-radar.

That first time, after I got settled at the table, I could see the kid juggling four or five balls in the street at the traffic light. From the vantage point I have from the table, I can just about see the top of his head and the balls making their arc in the air.

I don't usually pay much attention to him after I give him change. There are more interesting things going on. But tonight, I decided to change my vantage point and I got a better look at the kid at work.

Tonight, I could see that the kid doesn't only hit me up for change. He asks just about everyone that passes the corner. This didn't really make me feel any better.

I could also see that he isn't alone. There are two other kids there with him. Another boy and a girl. Both younger (at least smaller). They take turns juggling balls when the light changes red.

I'd bet the girl is Maya's age. She was out there juggling two balls, slowly, up and down, once in a while under her leg. She didn't drop any while I watched. The other boy is better, faster, but the older boy is the best. He has a bunch of balls in the air at different speeds and is juggling them under his legs and behind his back. More practice, I guess.

The kids aren't there during the day. I guess they must be at their other jobs. During the day that corner is the domain of the newspaper saleswoman and the old indigenous woman that sells mandarins or lemons, or whatever fruit she has that particular day.

Begging for Money

2008-07-23T19:13:00.000-07:00

From uninvited Guest Blogger, Rebecca:

On my bus ride to work in the mornings, someone begging for money usually makes an appearance. It's interesting though how different it is here, as compared to the US. First, the beggar gets on and recites a story of how he (or she) is blind - or otherwise desperate - and without any means of earning money except to sell these delicious caramels for 25 cents. I don't think selling small trinkets of stuff is really common practice on the DC Metro, but I'm not a regular commuter, so I couldn't say for sure. Secondly, I'm always surprised at how many people pull out their change purses and either buy the candy, or just gives some money to the person outright. Ecuador's a poor country already, but it seems that the people are relatively generous - at least the people on the buses that I ride. (Likewise, I'm often offered a seat when one becomes available, or even sometimes someone stands up and gives me his seat. The same happens regularly when I get on the bus with the kids. It doesn't seem to work as magically with Paul, even when he's holding a sleeping Jonah. I guess there's something to be said for machismo.)

Anyway, consider this post to be me getting on the bus with a bag of caramels and giving you my spiel:

As you probably know, we're here in Ecuador because I'm volunteering (as in getting no money whatsoever) for Asylum Access, a very young non-profit organization that provides free legal assistance to refugees in Ecuador. By advising refugees of their rights and representing them through their refugee status determination hearings, Asylum Access is helping refugees get legal protection so they can assert their human rights. It's a pretty original idea, and one that no other US organization is doing: providing rights-based aid to get people legal refugee status so that they can get out of limbo and begin to rebuild their lives.

I am constantly amazed at the stories I hear from the people who walk through our doors. They tell of scenarios that we Americans only see in the movies, literally. For example I'm currently working with a 23 year old car mechanic from Colombia who set up shop in January. One day in May, four FARC guerrillas came into his shop, dropped off their car and told him to fix it, "or else." Unfortunately for him, he is a diesel engine mechanic and the SUV they brought in was a gas engine. Apparently there's a big difference, at least for him. He spent 2 days working on the car and it ran okay when the armed guerrillas came to pick it up. Unfortunately, he didn't do it right, because shortly after that, the car broke down on the side of the road, smoke spewing from under the hood. The guerrillas stopped a passerby and sent a message to my client: "We're coming for you." When he got the message, he and his assistant took off immediately, abandoning their shop, and a week later were seeking refugee status in Ecuador.

Another client I'm working with is a 30-year old mother of two young children. (I'm most affected by the clients with little kids. I always imagine myself in their place, fleeing with Maya and Jonah in the dead of night, with no snacks or toys.) She was lucky enough to find a job in Medellin, Colombia, where unemployment is pretty high. She sold shoes and earned a decent living. Unfortunately her boss was involved with the paramilitaries, sold stolen cars, and probably was a big time drug dealer, based on the enormous amounts of cash he kept hidden in his mom's house. Her aunt worked as a cook in the boss' mom's house and unwisely started stealing some of the cash. Three weeks ago, the aunt decided to take advantage of the boss being out of town, enlisted my client's husband, and planned a larger theft. They were caught in the act by the boss' sister. The next day, the aunt's body turned up decapitated and otherwise mutilated, with obvious signs of torture. She hasn't heard from the husband since then. That night, she fled Medellin, with her 7- and 2-year old children. She arrived at the Colombia-Ecuador border, alone, afraid, and penniless at 10pm. Maya and Jonah would have been absolutely melting down. I can't even imagine. She crossed into Ecuador, arrived in Quito, and tried calling her family to tell them she was okay. She hasn't been able to get in touch with any of her three sisters or her mother in the 2 1/2 weeks that she's been here. The boss knew where they lived and she now fears that they're dead.

The mechanic's case was initially denied and we're helping him prepare an appeal.

The woman has her interview tomorrow morning to determine whether she is in fact a refugee and whether she will get to stay in Ecuador legally. We think it's a pretty strong case, so we're cautiously hopeful. If her application is approved, this woman will be allowed to start a new life in Ecuador and enroll her children in school. (Unfortunately she's Colombian and black, so she faces enormous discrimination in Ecuador, even if she is legal, but that's a subject for another post.) If her husband is still alive, he'll be able to live here too.

I’m asking you to consider supporting this cause. Our resources are scarce. Of the 9 people on our staff at the moment, only one person, the Program Director, gets any salary at all. All the rest of us are volunteers, committing a minimum of three months to being here and working with desperate people. It's a pretty low-budget operation. Our annual budget for 2007-2008 is only $200,000, so even a small contribution goes a very long way.

Having been relatively successful since its inception less than a year ago, Asylum Access is trying to expand to keep up with demand. Colombians constitute the largest refugee population in the world, and Ecuador is where most of them flee to. Our name is becoming known among the refugee community and more and more people are coming to us for assistance. The clients whose cases we have worked on are getting approved. At the same time, we are working on public policy initiatives to help more than just our clients. The legal standard here is shockingly low and we are working to make the refugee status determination process more professional and up to international standards.

Refugees in the “global south” are generally off the radar for most large funding organizations, and being a young organization, it is difficult for us to run expensive fund-raising campaigns. This is why all of us who work in Asylum Access are turning to those people who we know would take their time to learn about our work and needs (or at least to those people who have enough time on their hands to read this blog.)

I tease Paul about writing long rambling posts, so I will end mine here. If you would like to support the work of Asylum Access, even a small donation will have a great impact. (We are looking to hire a legal director at the bargain salary of $300 a month!) You can donate online here or at http://www.asylumaccess.org/donate.html and you can specify that you want your contribution to go to the Ecuador project. You can also send a check to Asylum Access, PO Box 14205, San Francisco, CA 94114.

Thanks for reading (and donating).

A Trip Back in Time to When MTV Showed Videos

2008-07-23T15:09:00.001-07:00

Wednesday was about as hot as it has been at any time since we have been here. Even though I say it was hot, it wasn't hot enough for me to break a sweat. Of course, the most physically exerting thing that I do on any given day is carry Jonah around.

Anyway, in the morning, after Jonah and I dropped Maya at school (where she was making empanadas!) we headed to Gringo-land (aka Mariscal) to inquire about a trip to a jungle lodge. I haven't written much about our August plans - but in a nutshell, Rebecca's last day at work is Friday, August 1. The following week we are planning to spend in the jungle. The week after that, we are planning to spend at the beach. The week after that, we are planning to spend at an organic farm close to the beach. The few days after that will be spent at the beach and returning to Quito for our August 30th flight.

(Column Intermission I - I don't know what has gotten into Maya, but she is currently cleaning the floors in our apartment with a wet rag. Rebecca would never do this. Evidence that Maya is my own flesh and blood. Of course, she's doing it with the rag we use to clean the counters and table, but I don't want to rain on her parade. Go Maya!)

The jungle lodge inquiry with Dracaena Lodge went well (meaning, Jonah hardly interrupted the adult conversation). But because the journey to the lodge involves a three hour canoe ride, I think we will end up going to the Cuyabeno River Lodge, which is only a 30 minute canoe ride.

After we visited the jungle lodge office, I planned to make our way to Rebecca's office to fill her in on what I learned and maybe convince her to come out with Jonah and me for a juice. But, we ran into a couple detours that kept Jonah entertained for the rest of the morning. Breaking dirt bombs on a rock and watching a front-loader pick up stones and empty them into a dump truck.

He and I did stop for a juice before we got Maya, but there was no time to include Mommy.

After we got Maya, we headed out to Parque Alameda to kill the rest of the afternoon. It is getting harder and harder for me to find things to do with them every day. They hate getting in the Ecovia because it is always jam packed with Ecuatorianos. Frankly, I'm not that fond of it either because I have to end up carrying Jonah for the entire ride. And I hate spending the money on a taxi when I could spend a quarter and have the Ecovia take us there. Ah, the price of frugality!

Usually people on the Ecovia will vacate a seat when they see me carrying the boy, but that just means that Maya and Jonah get to fight over who has more room on the seat. This usually ends with me holding Jonah, and Maya sitting in the seat. Lately, they just can't get along over anything. They almost kill each other over who gets to push the buttons in the damn elevator every morning. I think they are ready for a break from each other.

Anyway, Parque Alameda had this bunch of guys dressed like American Indians, playing flutes and other wind instruments and singing and dancing. It was hard to figure out what the heck was going on, but it kept the kids entertained for about an hour. Maya said she liked the dancing the best.

When we got home, there was this nice sushi dinner waiting for us from Kumi.

It was good, but was missing the wasabi. Sushi just isn't the same if you can't use it as a vehicle for a few ounces of wasabi.

Today (Thursday) both kids went to school and I had a Spanish lesson where I learned the conditional tense. What the hell is that, right? I don't know. I'm learning more about Spanish grammar than I know about English grammar. I also told Eduardo (my teacher) that I felt like my vocabulary was lacking and he challenged me to learn ten new words a day. So this afternoon, while the kids played on the playground at the nearby strip mall, I learned a bunch of words about cars. Things like wheel, dashboard, front seat, back seat, etc. I have this picture book dictionary and I kept imagining that the other folks on the playground thought I was studying to be a mechanic.

The playground at the strip mall is a plastic contraption that we are familiar with from home, set in the parking lot of the mall. It's not as bad as it sounds. There is one of those green turf mats under the playground equipment and there are guards that patrol the lot (it's a pretty small lot) and janitors that go around and clean it. With the palm trees right there it feels like a vacation spot.

Plus, the parking lot has a soundtrack blaring out from speakers hidden among the ferns and palms. The soundtrack, as far as I can tell, consists only of Alanis Morissette's album "Jagged Little Pill". I haven't heard the song "Ironic" this many times since when it was on MTV's heavy rotation in 1995.

The playground is a relatively new addition - it wasn't there a month ago. The strip mall is just down the block from us and is where the grocery store we go to is located. The mall also houses a KFC.

KFC is one of only three U.S. chains I have seen here. Dominoes Pizza and Payless Shoes being the others. Dolce Gabbini (spelling?) is also around, but I'm not sure that is a U.S. company.

Maya and Jonah are big fans of KFC. Not the chicken (though, they pester me for it continually, and I have to admit, it does look good) but the playgrounds that are inside each KFC.

Picture the McDonald's playground and I guess you can picture the KFC playground. We go there pretty frequently. It's close (we don't have to get in a bus or taxi) and they like it. Jonah will have his head on my shoulder as I carry him home from school, almost asleep, and we'll walk past the KFC and he'll pick his head up and say, I'm not tired anymore. I want to go to KFC.

We have also made trips to other parts of the city specifically to check out their KFC playgrounds. I don't know what I would do without them.

Anyway, I've forgotten what the point of this blog was (I started it yesterday) so I'll wrap it up like this - go to YouTube and type in Michael Jackson Thriller. Check out the casadofantasma edit. Maya says she likes the dancing part the best.

What Didn't Work

2008-07-21T15:20:00.000-07:00

Because I've had it up to my chin with Rebecca, and especially Maya and Jonah, lately, I decided a trip to Papallacta would be the best way to be done with them. Then I could make off with what remains of our meager savings and disappear north into Mexico.

Disguising the trip as a "family vacation" I made sure that we got to the bus station on Sunday morning for the couple hour ride to Papallacta. I purchased the first row of seats in the bus with the fair expectation that we would be crushed to death by oncoming traffic when our driver tried to pass another bus on a curve, on a very steep uphill, going about one mile per hour. But this didn't work. The ribbon of pavement (and sometimes dirt) that traversed this portion of the paramo didn't have anything coming in the other direction except the wind.

Instead, we got to enjoy two hours of blood and guts as "Heroes Shed No Tears", one of the early movies that earned John Woo the right to dazzle American audiences with such classics as "Face/Off" and "Mission Impossible 2", aired at full volume. Five plus years of sheltering Maya from the senseless sex and violence of the American media blown up with one bamboo structure teeming with "bad guys" in Vietnam.

When we finally arrived in Papallacta, a one-dirt-road town, 400 meters above and to the east of Quito, famous for its reservoirs (it supplies the drinking water to Quito) and thermal baths, we drove right through it without stopping. That surprised me, but I worked it to my advantage. I had the bus drop us off east of "town", hoping that something dastardly would happen as we hiked the kilometer or so back up the mountain. It didn't work.

Instead, we got bounced around in the back of this pickup truck/taxi, (but nobody got bounced out) on the way to our hotel.

No problem. I made sure the hotel we stayed at, "Pampas de Papallacta", came equipped with three thermal pools. All along, my fall-back plan had been to turn the three into living prunes. Then, I could sell their clothes for a few pennies and vanish into the jungle.

However, four straight hours of soaking in the pools was still a few hours too few. And, to make matters worse, everyone had fun!

I still had a few tricks up my sleeve. But my plan to starve them by feeding them only crackers and chicken soup didn't work either.

I made a quick call to "Stealth Is Us" to provide some cover while I slipped away into the mist. And this fog provided some real nice cover - for the mountain a hundred yards from the hotel. I understand a bull was able to dash its way to freedom.

After the fog didn't work, I placed my hope in fire. I had made sure to reserve a room with a fireplace. However, before striking the fateful match, I decided that since I would be sleeping in the same room, and there were a group of young locals partying in the room next door until the wee hours, burning the place down would take too many innocent lives. So, instead, we cozied up under the covers with a nice, warm fire smoldering nearby. It was kind of nice, actually.

But not nice enough to change my mind. This morning, after a few more hours in the pools resulted in prune-like tendencies, but no actual-fruit results, we managed to hitch a ride back to Quito with a tour of high-school age Londoners. In my chat with their chaperon, I learned that it was a class of biology students. After picking his puny little brain, I learned that they had practiced some pretty interesting experiments while among the ants and other creepy bugs that call the jungle their home. Some experiments that, with just the right twist, are guaranteed to bring results.

For our planned "family vacation" to the jungle in August, I'm going to be packing a little something extra to make sure a few certain somebodies have the sweetest of sweet dreams. A little sugar in your bed anyone?

Picture Book

2008-07-19T17:38:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures from the last few days. Rebecca played hooky on Thursday and we went to the old town to feed and terrorize the pigeons. They like to hang out in the plaza fronting Iglesia de San Francisco - shown here. The church is something like 500 years old. It really shows its age when you are inside. But it's kind of cool - walking on the bare wooden planks really makes you feel like you are being cultural.

Maya has taken to not liking crusts on her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She eats one every day, so the crusts accumulate pretty quickly. Every two weeks or so, we come to this plaza and feed them to the pigeons.

Here are Maya and Jonah plotting their next move.

And executing it.
The Ecuadorian soccer team has recently won some tournament. It seems everyone owns the shirt. Maya, Jonah and I wanted to be part of the "in crowd" too. Rebecca did not. She said she is going to make us wear these shirts on the plane ride home so she can keep track of us in the airport.

We also visited the Camilo Egas Museum. Camilo Egas is an early twentieth century Ecuadorian painter, famous mostly for his paintings of the indigenous women doing what they do - ceremonial dancing while naked. It was pretty good.

Rebecca and I tried to go this museum by ourselves one afternoon, but it was closed in preparation for an event that night. So, we were happy to make it on Thursday. Afterwards, we got to sit in the courtyard of the museum and make our own art.

Non-sequitor, but here's Jonah looking at some chicks for sale in one of the shops in the old town.
Today (Saturday) Rebecca had to work a half-day so she could take the day off on Monday, when we will be in Pappallacta. So, Maya, Jonah and I lit out for Parque Carolina. We were happy to stumble onto this fair . . .
. . . with everyone's favorite fair activities - bouncing on a rusty-spring trampoline.

There was also a platform about ten feet above a stretched out parachute. You can make out the parachute suspended above the ground in the background of the above picture. The objective was to jump into the parachute from the platform. Maya did it five times (it was a dime each jump). Jonah climbed onto the platform but ultimately would not jump. I only took a video and it won't upload.

The other fun thing was this fleet of Peg Perego battery operated cars. Both Maya and Jonah loved them. It cost a buck for them to take two laps around the sidewalks. The first time they went, Jonah was in this dune buggy type thing that was balls-out fast. I had to run to keep up with him to make sure he didn't steer into anybody. So I had no time for pictures. Maya was on a super-slow three-wheeler - so I had no concerns about her.

The second time they went I switched their vehicles. Maya lapped Jonah twice. And Jonah handled his hog like a veteran. I started to take a video of them but the camera memory card was full.

On the way home, we stopped to watch the Pinguino Ice Cream guys who ride around the park on bicycles with coolers welded to the front of them, play some volleyball. You can make out the front of one of the bicycles with white cooler to the right of the picture. We were rooting for them to win.

Anyway, we are leaving tomorrow (Sunday) for an overnight in Pappallacta. In the meantime, here's a picture of my smart, beautiful, and very sexy wife, Rebecca, hanging out with Jonah in the Plaza de Santo Domingo.

Home is Where the Slurpee Is

2008-07-18T13:03:00.001-07:00

The other day Maya, Jonah and I were looking at pictures on the computer. We saw some pictures, and then some videos, of the kids playing in the basement of our town home in Alexandria. While we were watching, Jonah said that he missed being home. He'll often say that he wants to go home now. And he calls hotel rooms "our new home".

Later that day or another day, Maya said that she missed being home too. She said there weren't enough toys here. I think she also means that there aren't enough kids here that are her own age (and that speak English). She has mentioned a few times about how excited she is to be going back to school and her friends when we return.

Even Rebecca is feeling homesick. She misses our house and her friends.

I'm the only one in no great rush to get home. Not surprising, because I have the most to lose. Essentially, my freedom. We get home on Saturday, August 30 and I go back to work on Tuesday. Say hello to culture shock.

Here, I wake up, eat, get the kids off to school, take a Spanish lesson or check out a museum, walk around town or go to the park by myself. Then, I go get the kids, eat some lunch, check out a museum, walk around town or go to the park with the kids. Then I come home, kiss my wife and eat some delicious meal that Kumi, our cook, has dished up. I'll let you wonder about the details of my nights.

On weekends, if we aren't going to some resort town where I can lay around in the thermal baths, then we're going to some resort town where I can zip over the tree canopy. Or we're hanging around Quito with no chores to run or responsibilities to worry about besides making sure the kids have food, water and shelter.

To be honest, I usually fail to provide shelter because I always forget to bring the umbrella. There is still something foreign to me about an hour that starts out with a bright-blue, clear sky and ends in downpour. But, I'm batting a thousand on the food and water front.

I never could understand those folks who said that they wouldn't know what to do with themselves in retirement. I was born to be retired.

Rebecca spent a good chunk of her adolescence living overseas (the part where most of our generation sat around watching "The Brady Bunch" on TV every afternoon). And she has always maintained that she wants Maya and Jonah to have the benefit of that experience as well. So, part of the reason that we decided to spend this summer away from the heat and humidity of Washington was as a sort of test run (with us as the guinea pigs) for life overseas.

But, what we have realized is that we actually like our life in Alexandria more than we thought we did. The house, the neighbors, the community, the fact that we can get a Slurpee whenever we want too - it would be a lot to give up.

One of Rebecca's best friends from college moved to London in the last six months with her husband and two young daughters. She recently blogged about the frustration of going to the grocery store and not having the choices that she is used to having in the States (I think the store was out of baking powder). Would that ever happen at Safeway? I think not.

(Column Intermission I - Jonah just walked by and said "Ewww. I think we definitely need to wash my feet today." Why? "Because they smell yucky!")

In Rebecca's friend's blog, which you can view here, Vanessa discusses how much she tends to take for granted in the US. It's true for many of us, I think. Certainly for this family. In considering life overseas, we definitely adopted the "grass is always greener" concept.

And, as much as I rue the fact that we have to go back to the life we came from, I know I will have a greater appreciation of that life. Not reveling in the U.S. necessarily (I'll still laugh at the fool that decides he needs to drive a Hummer around the streets of Alexandria), but reveling in the relationships that I have there and the habits that I have managed to get into in my 38 years that I can indulge.

I suppose that after more time here I'd develop more substantial relationships than saying hi and how ya doin' to the guy that empties the trash bins around the complex. But, to some extent, the cost would be giving up what my family has established in the U.S.

Even that isn't necessarily true. I probably talk to my mom more now in a week than I did when I was in Alexandria. And I know my sister Christine is definitely more up to date on our daily life here than she is on our daily life in Alexandria, because she reads the inanities I post on the blog daily. And I still know exactly how many home runs Alex Rodriquez has, thanks to MLB.com. So, there is no disconnect from a communication perspective.

But there are good things waiting for us at home that we don't have here. And maybe it is just a matter of time before we develop those same good things here and forget about those good things we left behind. But, I think we aren't ready for it.

Anyway, we'll have to contemplate it this Sunday and Monday while we soak in the thermal baths at Papallacta.

A Religious Experience on My Day Off

2008-07-16T20:12:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday mornings both Maya and Jonah are in school and I get to do whatever I want for a few hours. Yesterday, I went to the Museo Fundacion Guayasamin. Oswaldo Guayasamin is Ecuador's most famous contemporary artist. His paintings actually reminded me of the work that Ralph Steadman did for Hunter S. Thompson's writings - specifically, "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas". This painting by Guayasamin is called "The General's Smile". I would be enormously surprised if Ralph Steadman never saw anything by Oswaldo Guayasamin.

Many of Guayasamin's paintings are faces. To me, there seemed to be a recurring female countenance in his work. I wondered if it were his wife, lover or daughter. However, when I asked, the curator said there was no such resemblance to the female faces in his work. In fact, she got up and put her hand over one side of the painting then the other to demonstrate that there were two women. It is quite possible she gave further explanation and I missed it (such explanation being in Spanish and all). But draw your own conclusions on whether similarities in the faces in these paintings, from different periods in Guayasamin's life, exist.

Guayasamin also collected Pre-Columbian and Columbian artifacts excavated from around Ecuador. When he died, he donated them to the people of Ecuador. Apparently, literally. Many of the items are sitting there waiting for a five-year old or an almost three-year old to knock them over. Fortunately, Maya and Jonah will never visit this museum at that age. Among the standard bowls, vases, urns and masks were these things.

Can you tell what they are? They were very smooth (well used, or just well crafted?) and behind glass (secured with a cock ring). However, as I mentioned, many of the items displayed were there for the taking, if one was so inclined. I am not now so inclined. Apparently, in my younger days, which I don't remember, I was so inclined. A friend of mine has a picture of a much younger me sitting in a centuries old chair in some museum in England. I cringe now to think what I would have done if it had broken. Run!

The other thing that Guayasamin collected was Pre-Republic religious art. I've mentioned before that the Spanish used religion and religious art as a means to subvert and convert the conquered. Guayasamin's collection displays many anonymous works of art by Quiteno and Cuencano natives from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The natives, particularly the Quiteno natives, had a unique style of art (lots of gold overleaf on the paintings and lots of blood on the sculptures) and this was the first time I got to see it.

There must have been two hundred sculptures of Jesus on the cross. Some as tall as I am. And many showing Jesus' back cut to the bone by whipping. Even in sculpture, it was horrible to see. The funny thing is, as the curator gave me a general overview of the works before I walked through, she said, notice the calm expression on Jesus' face. This is in contrast to the European works they were copied from. I didn't notice that he had a calm expression. I noticed that his back was ripped to shreds.

Jesus' back really made me consider, for the first time, the reality of the gauntlet Jesus had to run (or walk, as it were). Regardless of whether you are Jew, Christian or Agnostic, one cannot deny the cruelty that was perpetrated. For some strange reason, it made me want to see that Mel Gibson movie "The Passion of the Christ". That movie has been described to me by an Army Ranger as "Brutal". Seeing that is the nearest I think I can get to seeing Jesus' ordeal as it truly was.

Anyway, after that happy experience, I came home, made egg salad sandwiches for Maya and Jonah, and went to pick them up at school. He died for our sins, right? Then we went to the playground, met some guy who feeds pigeons in his store (and does not eat them afterwards), and I got a haircut.

Later, I wrote this poem.

What Should I Believe?

I am a left-handed cigarette smoker.
I believe this is because it is more comfortable, but when I realized this,
I was holding a drink in my right hand.
I also went to the Museo Fundacion Guayasamin, where there are
hundreds of sculptures of Jesus on the cross.
In most of the sculptures, his head hangs to the right.
But in some, his head hangs to the left.

The Price of Juice

2008-07-14T16:55:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow, Tuesday, July 15, marks the two month anniversary of our arrival in Quito. Today, in honor of the milestone, I had my first "I'm sick of it all" day.

I started out with flying colors, ordering Rebecca to wash her breakfast dishes before she left for work. It's drives me crazy that after I clean the table, wash the breakfast plates, put things away, etc., she puts her one bowl and spoon in the sink and walks away. Today, I let her have it.

The walk to school should only take about ten minutes, but with Maya and Jonah, it takes about twenty. And the last quarter of it is straight uphill. Often, we will take a taxi, and Maya wanted to today, but I wanted to save the goddamn dollar that it costs us, so we walked. Of course, Jonah refuses to walk the entire way so I had to carry him up the hill. I never enjoy it, but today I started berating Rebecca and myself (out loud) for thinking it was a good idea to not bring a stroller. I don't think there is a street that we've been on in Quito that I haven't carried Jonah down like he was some kind of royalty. When Jonah heard me muttering stuff about no stroller, etc, etc, he said, "I can walk now". Poor two-year old kid. I told him I wasn't mad at him, that it wasn't his fault, and that I would carry him. I deserved it.

After we dropped Maya off (Jonah goes to school on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday), Jonah and I went to Parque Carolina with his soccer ball. That was fun. Before we went back to pick Maya up, we stopped for a juice.

The menu said "Jugo - .40", but when I went to pay for two juices - it was $1.60. I told the woman that the menu says juice is 40 cents. That's with a meal, she said. I said, the menu doesn't say juice is forty cents only if you get it with a meal. It says juice is forty cents. Juice is 80 cents, the woman said. Whatever. I paid her. But it really pissed me off. As we walked away, I thought of all the great arguments I could make about why I was only paying her 80 cents, but I restrained myself from going back.

Of course, I only had $22 in my wallet at the time, and most of it was printed as a $20 bill. So, after paying $1.60 for juice, I didn't have enough in small bills and change to get into a taxi back to the school like I planned. You can't get in a taxi with a $20 bill for a $1 ride. There is no possible way the taxi driver will have change.

So, we had to get in the bus, which meant I had to carry Jonah to the bus stop and then carry him up the damn hill to the school again. And, we had no change for a taxi or the bus after we got Maya, so we had to walk home. Well, Maya and I walked. Jonah got carried. All because some woman thought it would be cute to double charge me for juice.

This happens all the time - the gringo tax. Usually it doesn't bother me that much to pay a few cents more. The other day, our taxi driver stopped for gas while he was supposed to be taking us home. I watched the meter tick up fifteen cents while he pumped. When we got to the apartment, he charged me the meter rate. I told him I was discounting it by the fifteen cents and he was fine with it. He drove away. If, he hadn't, I would have paid the meter, made a comment that it was a dirty trick, and forgotten about it. It was only fifteen cents. But today the price of juice festered in me.

As we walked home from the school and while we ate lunch, I started thinking of all the things that piss me off about this place. Like, you have to plan your day around breaking a $20 bill. There's only two places that I am sure will have change for that big a bill - the fruteria, the bank. Even the Ecovia, the city's biggest bus line, is hit or miss when you give them a twenty.

One time at the grocery store, I had to wait for three other customers to check out before the store could give me the correct change for my $20. And this was first thing in the morning when you think the register would be flush with change. At the time, it was no big deal to me. I have nothing to do all day. What's the rush. Part of the reason we are here is to escape the American philosophy that every thing needs to be done in a hurry. Today, having to wait for change would have pissed me off, I'm sure.

The fact that cars do not give pedestrians the right of way. Usually, no big deal. Keeps me on my toes. Today, this pissed me off. When I am by myself, I am much more aggressive in taking the right of way. Of course, with Maya and Jonah, I wait for a break in traffic (or, we cross at the signal). But, there are no extended breaks in traffic. So, invariably, we'll be halfway across the street and some fucker will be flying down the road at us. We've taken to saying "Run for your life" whenever this happens as we run across the street. The kids get a real kick out of it. And it really makes them move.

After lunch, Maya Jonah and I spent three bucks at the fruteria to make change for my $20, so we could take a $1 taxi ride to Parque Carolina. I wasn't going to take the bus because I was done carrying Jonah for the day.

And the park cooled me off. We went there to fly a kite. Maya was so excited. She kept running with the kite even when she didn't need too. When she ran, she kept getting the string tangled in the exercise equipment near us. She did finally get the hang of how to handle the kite and was pretty expert at it. She's amazing.

Jonah was happy to roll around in the grass and play with the loose screws on the exercise equipment until it was his turn to hold the kite. Then he would crash the thing into the ground.

They were both so damn excited and cute over the whole thing. It was a lot of fun.

On the taxi ride home from the park, Jonah remarked that when he grows up, he wants to be a taxi driver. I asked him why. His reply was, Because I want to move the stick back and forth (he was referring to the stick shift standard to the taxi industry here. Damn. I will be so proud of him if he follows through on that dream.

Welcome to Quito, Again

2008-07-13T15:08:00.000-07:00

This was the first weekend we were going to spend in Quito in nearly a month. Not such a big deal for me, Maya and Jonah, because we get around and see things during the week. But Rebecca is at work all day and sees only the neighborhood where she works. So, we were all excited to show her some of the cool things that we have found in the city.

For example, a few weeks ago Maya Jonah and I went to the Basilica Del Voto Nacional. You can read about it here. One of the views we had from the balcony we reached was of this park in the hills in the southwest side of the city. The park looked neat and we thought it would be fun to go there.

On Friday after school, we finally made it. The park was actually kind of dirty with trash and a drunk passed out in the grass. But because it is perched in the hills, it had awesome views of the city, which you can't really tell from this picture. But trust me, it did.

And by now, we are used to the trash. Funny how we barely even notice that anymore. Maya used to comment about it, but no more. I guess she's now conditioned. She is still always on the alert for dog poop though.

So, the Basilica is in the background of this picture. The Basilica looked a lot closer to the park when we were in the park than the park did to the Basilica when we were in the Basilica. Like people always look taller on TV. Or is it shorter. I forget.

The drunk was perfectly placed right at the top of a hill and Maya, Jonah and I joked about rolling him down it. But even though that would have been a lot of fun, we ended up just playing around in the park and eating chicken empanadas that someone came around selling.

There were a lot of local kids at the park and they were really interested in Maya and Jonah. As is their usual custom, Maya and Jonah pretty much ignored the kids. I think it is more of a language thing than a shy thing. Finally though, because of this enormous concrete slide and a merry go round thing, all the kids ended up playing together and having loads of fun.

Maya and Jonah didn't even want to leave when I told them that we had to get home to let Mommy in the apartment because she doesn't have a key. Kumi, our cook, has our spare keys.

As we left, I gave the local kids some candy that I had in my backpack. I later realized that I'm that guy your mother warned you about - the stranger offering candy. These kids took it with no questions asked. I guess Ecuadorian mothers don't give that advice.

So anyway, taking Rebecca to the Basilica or to this playground (which is actually part of a park called Parque Julio Montovelle) would have been new and exciting things to do with her. But somehow, on both Saturday and Sunday, we managed to end up exactly where she has already been.

Well, that's not exactly true. All week the kids were blabbering on about Volcano Park and the roller coaster and how they both went on it and how it was their first roller coaster ride and blah blah blah so on Saturday morning we went there. But going to an amusement park isn't exactly cultural. About the only thing unique about Volcano Park as an amusement park is that you can go there and still have money in your pocket when you leave.

This is the third time I've been there and the fourth visit for the kids (they went once with Opa and PoPo). And despite all those visits, we still haven't spent as much there as we would to get the family into a Six Flags in the U.S.

This visit (our first as MVPs - which means we've spent enough money in the place to get discounted games and rides) we did the usual round of rides and played some games. I managed to win one of those water squirt gun races (I beat Jonah and some other guy) and got a prize to give to my boy. The prize is a bear head on a stick - if you are confused, picture those pencils that they probably still make where you rub the pencil back and forth between your hands and the fuzzy hair guy at the eraser end gets all crazy-haired. I was pretty psyched to get it.

Being in that place, with all the manly games like knock down the cans with a baseball and bang the sledgehammer on the block and make the ball ring the bell, really made me want to play those games and win some prizes for the kids. It took me back to my Jersey shore boardwalk days at Asbury Park, Point Pleasant and Seaside Heights. The only thing missing was the spin the wheel games. But, now I really want to take Maya and Jonah to the boardwalk. Anyone up for renting a shore house next summer?

So, after Volcano Park we went to get lunch at a place that Rebecca goes for lunch during the week. Then we walked to Parque Elijido, which is the park we went to the first weekend we were here. You can read a little bit and see pictures of that visit here. But again, nothing new for Rebecca to see there. But we had a good time.

Maya finally mastered the rungs that you hang from and go hand over hand to get to the other side. I don't know what those things are called. Monkey bars? She did it by hanging underneath and by climbing across on the top.

I've mentioned before that the Ecuadorian playground is a lot more exciting than those plastic contraptions that inhabit our playgrounds back home. Nothing like the risk of blood and broken bones to challenge a kid. Maya is going to ace any playground she runs into back in Alexandria.

Today we went to Parque Metropolitano because there was some artsy kind of thing going on. Rebecca has been in Parque M too. We went to Parque M the first day we were here. To steal a line from Yogi Berra, it's like deja vu all over again.

The reason we went there today, and didn't do something new and exciting, was because this past week, when Maya, Jonah and I went to Parque M, we saw these two mimes practicing their routine. After they were done not talking, they told us that there was going to be some artsy thing in the parque on Sunday at which they were going to perform.

Even though we woke up at about 7 this morning, and the show started at noon, we managed to miss the beginning of the show. But, we caught most of it (and anyway, we'd seen it before without the costumes) and it was good. The kids wouldn't approach the mimes to have a picture taken. Maybe it is a shy thing. But when Maya and Jonah put on a show for Rebecca and me before bed tonight, Maya was doing some of the moves that these guys used today. They also played guitar, danced and did head and shoulder, knees and toes.

Back to the day. Afterwards the mime show, we had a picnic and stayed in the park all day. We played soccer, played on the various playgrounds, rode scooters, and watched Maya try to kill herself on the zip line. The zip line at Parque M is similar to the one at Pachamama, but much more dangerous. There are rocks underneath the line and the structure holding the thing up is creaky and split in places. Maya had about five dozen rides on the thing and was basically riding the thing upside down towards the end. She's definitely into thrills.

Jonah rode the zip line a few times but was content to just throw himself around on the grass most of the day. All of his pants are getting holes in the knees because he is on the ground about eighty percent of the time.

Rebecca and I are planning to leave Maya and Jonah's clothes here when we go home because Maya's are all filthy (yes, we wash them, but she currently has only three pants and four or five shirts in her rotation, so the dirt accumulates faster than we can wash it out. They are permanently stained). And most of Jonah's pants are now floods because he has grown, and they are full of holes.

Parque M is nothing like it is during the week, when we have the place all to ourselves. It was jam packed. Couldn't even park our car if we had one. But, one of the drags about going to Parque M is also one of its attributes. The park is high up in the hills on the northeast side of the city. Very remote. Getting there is no problem because you just hop in a taxi in town and ride up there. But getting out of there is a pain. There are no taxis to be had there and during the week, very few people. When we were there last, I asked a woman with a kid to give us a lift down the enormous hill you have to climb to get to the park so we could catch a taxi on the main road, but she refused me. She told me she was uncomfortable with the idea of giving a man a ride. It was annoying because it meant that I had to carry Jonah about halfway down the mountain before we were able to hitch a ride, but I understand her hesitation.

To get out of the park today, we had to start walking but were able to hitch a ride at just about the same place we did last time. It's probably not a good idea for me to get my kids into the habit of standing on the side of the road with their thumbs out, but at least I don't hide in the grass and jump out when someone stops. I'm right there with them. That should at least filter out some of the weirdos that would otherwise offer a ride.

Musical Beds, to the Tune of Wah, Wah, Wah

2008-07-11T17:07:00.000-07:00

The great plan that Rebecca and I had for when we came to Ecuador was to have the kids sleep in their own rooms, in their own beds. For Maya, we figured it was past time. She's five years old and has been sleeping in our bed, or next to it, her whole life. And, to get her to go to sleep, Rebecca has to lay down with her.

For about the last month or so that we were in Alexandria, we managed to move Maya to her own room to start, so long as Rebecca stayed in the room with her until she fell asleep. When she woke up, as she invariably does, she would come into our bed for the rest of the night.

Regarding Jonah, since we already repeated the same mistakes we made with Maya regarding putting him to bed, we don't want it to go on as long as it has with Maya. So, we figured, now, in Ecuador, was a good time to get him used to sleeping in his own room. We even went so far as to convert our third upstairs room in Alexandria from an office to his room in the frantic week before we left so that when we get back, the transition to his own room and bed will be seamless.

Well, things haven't worked out as we had hoped. The first few nights we were here, Rebecca would lay down with Maya in the twin bed in "her room" and fall asleep. I would lay down with Jonah in the twin bed in "his room" and fall asleep. If Rebecca or I ended up waking up at a reasonable hour during the night, we would get into the double bed in "our room" until one of the kids woke up crying. In that case, the parent responsible for the crying child would go and attend to the kid - which meant getting into bed with him or her and spending the rest of the night there.

So, morning wake-ups would have Maya in her bed, Rebecca in the big bed, and me and Jonah in his bed. Or, Maya and Rebecca in her bed, Jonah in his bed, and me in the big bed. Or sometimes, if Jonah wet his bed, as he was doing the first week or so we were here, Maya and Rebecca in her bed and Jonah and I in the big bed.

When Maya wakes up at night, she always wants Mommy. However, when Jonah wakes up, sometimes I'm just not good enough and he wants Mommy. So, on some nights, Maya would wake up and Rebecca would go in there. And then Jonah would wake up and want Mommy and she'd have to go in there. If Maya was still awake when this happened, or if Jonah's crying woke her up, then Maya, Jonah and Rebecca would end up in the big bed, and I would end up in a twin.

When Opa and PoPo were here, they would occasionally take sleeping duties so Rebecca and I could actually spend a full night under the same sheets. Other times, though, we would start as usual, with Rebecca and Maya in one twin, me and Jonah in the other, and Opa and PoPo in the double. The problem with that arrangement was that sometimes Jonah would want Opa in the wee hours. This meant either I got into the double bed with PoPo, or Jonah woke the whole house up.

(Column Intermission I - When Jonah was an infant to about 18 months, we called him Rooster because he would wake the entire house up so goddamn early with his crying. I'm talking 4 a.m. in the morning and inconsolable, no matter what time he went to bed. The only way to quiet him was to go downstairs and make him a fried egg. Which is fine if it is 7 a.m., or even 6 a.m.. But at 4 a.m. in the morning, the last thing you want to be doing is making a fried egg to start your day.)

So, the trick then became to find appropriate sleeping arrangements before everyone went to bed so that, in the event that Jonah woke up in the wee hours and cried loudly for Opa, PoPo and I didn't end up in the double bed together.

Now that Opa and PoPo have gone, things have gotten even more silly. Now, Rebecca puts Maya and Jonah to sleep in the big bed. After things get quiet, I go and wake her up and we go to sleep together in the twin in "Jonah's room". This is how they have us trained. Here is Maya and Jonah sleeping in the big bed last night.

After either Maya or Jonah wakes up crying for Mommy, she vanishes into the dark and I'm left on my own. Thinking about it now, it's actually not that bad an arrangement. Though, I am concerned how things will work out when we get back to Alexandria. Maya sleeps on a loft and I'm afraid its not strong enough to hold me. And I doubt that I will even fit in the IKEA special that we brought for Jonah.

Another Blue Heart on the Road to Cuenca

2008-07-10T16:51:00.000-07:00

Here's a poem that I wrote.

Another Blue Heart on the Road to Cuenca

We saw a dead man laying on his back on the road to Cuenca.
A crowd of people gathered to see the motorcycle and
the two rivers of blood that ran from under his head to the earth at the edge of the pavement.
A man knelt next to the body.
He placed one hand on the chest, and the other over his own face.

Further along on the road to Cuenca
We stopped at what must pass for a strip mall in this part of the world;
A row of dusty, concrete buildings selling fruit, candy, drinks and soup.
A dog looked down at us from the roof of one store;
A priest looking down from his temple.

When we passed a blue heart painted in the road,
We learned that it marked the sight of a road fatality.
A reminder that the road to Cuenca is not paved with gold.
Then we passed another blue heart and another, and then two together.
After we counted ten, we tried to stop noticing them.

A Dedicted Follower of Fashion

2008-07-09T17:20:00.000-07:00

For perhaps the first time in my life, I'm going to spend a few moments thinking and talking about fashion. I feel it is finally necessary because every day now, I am awed by the apparent lack of self-consciousness of Ecuadorian women.

It's like this, if you are an Ecuadorian woman, it does not matter if you weigh two-hundred pounds or seventy pounds, you must wear skin-tight pants. It doesn't matter if said pants are jeans, sweats, dress pants, or slacks, if you don't have llama toes showing, your pants are not tight enough. It doesn't matter if you are seventeen or eighty, if you are thin or have a belly that would put John Goodman to shame, skin tight is right. It's like every woman is trying to generate as little wind resistance as possible.

Of course, there are the few exceptions to this rule who wear, what looks to me, like a comfortable fitting pair of pants. And, there are a few women who don't have their tits hanging out of their shirts. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big tit fan, but even I get a little embarrassed when Grandma is buying her groceries in a skin tight, sky-blue sweat suit with the jacket zipped down to her navel. Guess, she thinks that since the modeling dummies don't even wear shirts, she was being modest.

Occasionally in the States some woman is not embarrassed to dress in a way that she thinks is sexy but others think is not. But it occurs with alarming frequency here.

The other peculiarity I have noticed is that it is fairly routine for someone wearing a heavy sweater, boots, and gloves, to be standing next to someone wearing a T-shirt and jeans. The weather during the day varies that dramatically. I wore my new favorite hat all through Cuenca even though the days were sunny and warm. When the sun does go behind a cloud (which happens pretty regularly) it gets cold in a hurry.

As far as mens fashion goes, nothing really strikes me as that different from the States. Dress clothes for the working guys and casual to grungy for the non-working folks. There is a proliferance of death metal T-shirts being worn by the young crowd. And, the instantly recognizable marijuana leaf as a decoration on clothing, be it shirts, hats, or necklaces, is common. PoPo brought a tagua nut necklace the other day. She didn't know the picture on it was of a marijuana leaf until she got home and Opa told her.

Finally, since many people are poor, many people wear clothes that they get second-hand. On the Ecovia the other day, Rebecca saw an old indigenous women, like this one

wearing a hat that said "Bad-Ass".

What Poppy Did

2008-07-08T09:17:00.000-07:00

This weekend Rebecca and I went to Cuenca, the third largest city in Ecuador. Cuenca was founded in 1500 something by the Spaniards on the ruins of the great Incan city, Tomebamba.

We left Quito with Paul Harris (our would-be-Tumbaco neighbor) for the seven-hour drive to Cuenca at 6 a.m. on Friday morning. Sylvia and the kids are in Cuenca for the month of July and Paul was joining them for a long weekend. We were parents coming from polar opposites - Paul had been without his kids for a week, and was desperately missing them, and Rebecca and I couldn't wait to get away from ours for as long as possible. Rebecca and my situation was made even more desparate by the fact that Opa and PoPo would be leaving the day after our return from Cuenca (Monday), so we had major plans to, figuratively, blow the doors off this weekend.

The ride to Cuenca actually took about 12 hours. Partly because we stopped in Salcedo, Quisapincha, Alausi, and Riobamba, and partly because the road to Cuenca is, essentially, a dirt and rock road through the mountains. At one point we had to stop while a bulldozer cleared a landslide out of the way.

Salcedo was our first stop - for breakfast. And, since all the stores in Salcedo sell only the exact same homemade ice cream popsicles (and most of the stores were closed at the early hour that we arrived) - it was easy to decide on a store, but hard to decide on a flavor. We finally decided on blackberry (for me) and coconut creme (for Rebecca).

The next stop was Quisipincha - a leather-making town. We stopped because Rebecca wanted to look for a belt. Instead, she bought a leather jacket and two purses. I wasn't looking for anything but ended up with a leather jacket and my new favorite hat. One hour and one hundred and sixty dollars later, (and sans belt) we set out on the road to Cuenca again.

Here's a picture of me wearing my favorite hat in Cuenca.

But before we got to Cuenca, we had to eat. So, in a town called Alausi, we ate these fish and all that rice, for lunch.
And in Riobamba, we stopped at the oldest Spanish-built church in Ecuador (August 15, 1534), where we learned that the Spaniards introduced neon and tacky to the natives.
By the time we finally got to Cuenca, we were ready to settle for any old place to lay our heads. But instead, Sylvia called her brother-in-law and he hooked us up with a room in his hotel. Here's two pictures of our room (yes, two pictures because one wouldn't be enough, and yes, we had two beds). I won't go into details of how we spent our night. It's enough to say that the maid had a busy morning.
We stayed at a hotel in Indonesia once that was pretty fancy, but this one outclassed it by the two additional frilly-sheets it had hanging from the ceiling.

The rest of the weekend we spent like any normal couple that had a break from its two children would do. We serenaded each other,

drank cocktails,

walked around town,

with new friends (Paul and Sylvia)

and newer friends (Mr. Smiles)

And ate cuy. That's right, we ate cuy. After hearing of our cuy debacle in Banos, Paul and Sylvia took us to their favorite cuy restaurant in Cuenca for a bite of the tasty rat (did I mention that they are from Cuenca? And that they have a favorite cuy restaurant?). Rebecca could barely stomach a nibble (she claims it is a mental block) but I chowed down on the little critter. And I have to say, it was pretty darn tasty. The skin was crispier than a freshly opened bag of Doritos and the meat was quite tender.

This morning as Rebecca told Maya about our weekend in Cuenca, she said, "Guess what Poppy did?" Like somehow, having cuy for lunch on a Sunday is not the most ordinary thing in the world.

The World as Seen from a Taxi

2008-07-03T17:45:00.000-07:00

Here is a poem that I wrote.

The Diary of Mister Clean and Mother Earth

Sunday, June 15, 2008.
Today, Mister Clean and Mother Earth rode
through Quito on a motorcycle.
Mister Clean swerved to avoid a mush of
vegetable skins, dirty diapers, and other indiscernible daily detritus
that had spilled out of a bag and into the street.
With practiced ease, Mother Earth nursed the infant she held between them from her
brown, swollen breast.

We don't do a lot of driving here, but we walk around a lot. And we get in a fair number of taxis and buses. One of the neat things we've noticed is the variety of performers at many of the traffic lights. The performances range from the standard juggling act to the guy dressed in a silver space suit with a painted silver helmet, goggles and shoes who moves like a robot. One day we saw a guy juggling flaming sticks. The other night on the taxi ride home from the bus station, we saw a guy take a swig of diesel fuel (I know it was diesel because I asked him) hold a lighter arms length from his mouth and spit the fuel into the flame.

The fire-breathing guy earned 50 cents from me. The other performers that I have paid have gotten a dime or a quarter - whatever I have. Today, as Maya, Jonah and I walked around the old town, we stopped to listen to two blind guys playing music. One played an accordion and the other a guitar. I don't know what they were playing, some polka, but it sounded pretty good. I had Maya and Jonah each put a nickel in the cup. It sounds cheap, but 12 dimes and you can buy lunch.

I think these street performers actually make out pretty well. Let's say they stand at a traffic light for two hours a day, and that the light turns red every two minutes. If even just one person gives them a dime each time the light turns red, they've made six bucks. You can buy an entire roasted chicken here for six bucks. So, okay, maybe they are living in a box somewhere, but the weather doesn't get too cold and they are not going to starve. They could do a lot worse.

The other interesting thing that is going on at a red light is that folks walk between the cars selling any number of things. Lemons, limes, tangerines, bananas, phone cards, gum and candy, cigarettes, newspapers, magazines, lotto cards, sunglasses, DVDs, cell phone cases, incense, ice cream, and I'm sure I haven't seen it all. You can do almost all your shopping during the four or five minutes that you are stopped at a red light each day. Who needs drive-thru?

Ocassionally, I will see someone begging at a red light. The other day I say a guy with no arms and no legs being pushed in a wheelchair between the cars. He was a young guy too. Made me wonder if he was a victim of the FARC. Rebecca has a flyer that the FARC distributes that has severed limbs on display in it as a warning. I think it is a recruitment flyer.

Often when I am on the Ecovia, a blind person will get on, ramble on for a minute or two about some shit, and then walk the length of the bus taking handouts. Sometimes the blind person will be selling something small like bubble gum or lollipops. Many, many people give change in this situation - whether the person is selling something or not.

One cab driver I talked with told me that the Ecuadorian government does not do welfare. So, if you are jobless or unemployable, you are on your own. Maybe this is why the people have such great compassion for the blind that come onto the Ecovia and the occasional indigenous woman one will see begging in the streets. (Not related, except tangentially, this cabdriver also told me that there is no compulsory education requirement. Kids do not have to go school.)

This same cab driver also told me that the unemployment rate is high. This actually surprises me because I do not see a lot of idle folks during the day. When Rebecca and I were in India a decade ago, there were always lots of men standing around doing nothing. The poverty in India was much more in your face than it is here. Here, as far as I can tell, most folks seem to be working during the day. Sure, some are riding a bicycle around the park selling ice cream and I'm not sure how much that could possibly pay, but at least it's a job.

The cab driver also told me that if he worked six days a week, ten to twelve hour days, he could make $1,000 a month. We've become friendly with a ex-pat named Keith who moved here five years ago. Keith says that you can live here very comfortably on $4,000 a month. Keith estimates that between $30,000 to $40,000 grand a year will do you well here. The biggest expense, he says, is educating your kids (he has two). The cost of a good private school will run you around $4,000 a year, per child.

We met Keith and his wife Layla like this. A few weeks ago, Maya and Jonah were invited to Keith's younger daughter, Mei's birthday party. Mei turned six. We got invited to the party because Rebecca works with Ibeth, Mei's aunt. When Maya, Jonah and I got to the party we found out that Ibeth comes from a very wealthy family. The house she lives in is three connected town houses. Keith, his wife and daughters live in one. Ibeth and her parents live in another, and Ibeth's brother, sister-in-law and two daughters live in the third. There is also an indoor/outdoor heated pool. While everyone was outside doing party related things, I snuck around the place taking pictures to show Rebecca (it was a daytime party. Rebecca had to work.) I can't post them right now because Rebecca has our pictures at her office. But I will. The place was over the top.

Mei and her sister Kayla were really extraordinary in being kind and friendly to Maya and Jonah at the birthday party. And they all got along really well. The kids visited again yesterday and I think will probably get together again before Mei and Kayla go on a month-long summer vacation to Asia later in July. That would be totally cool with me because I'd get to sit around this beautiful house and yard, watching the DVD of the Eagles reunion/money-grab tour and watching Keith smoke cigarettes, while my kids leave me alone and run around and have a great time. And, I might even get to go in the pool.

Another Walk on the Wild Side

2008-07-01T08:36:00.000-07:00

On Sunday night, I lost my watch. I remember looking at it in the taxi on the way home from the bus station. It must have fallen off shortly thereafter. I'll never forget the last thing it ever said to me - 6:29 p.m..

I very rarely wear a watch, but this watch had some sentimental value to me because I wore it all through India a decade ago. I had been meaning to replace the band on the watch because it was tearing and I guess it finally tore through. So, not only was I a bit bummed out for sentimental reasons, but also because I lost it so lamely. I would have handled it better if a piranha tore it off my wrist with a bit of flesh while I was pulling Rebecca, Maya, and Jonah out of the jaws of an alligator with the other arm and paddling our canoe away from cannibals with my legs.

A few weeks ago I lost my cell phone in a taxi. I had just used it to call Rebecca and must have put it on the seat when I was done instead of in my pocket. The cell phone actually belonged to Carmen, our landlady. So, even though in the few weeks I had it, I hadn't quite figured out how to use it correctly and would now prefer that we not have a cell phone, it is necessary that we buy a new one.

Yesterday, in an effort to replace both these items, I went shopping while the kids were in school.

Our book describes the location of a black market where you can replace lost or stolen electronic items. In bygone days, I would have instinctively known where to find this market, and may even have been part of the fabric that held it together. But a wife, kids, mortgage and baldness paint only part of the picture of why today, I have no clue. Fortunately, I can still read a map, so I was able to locate the intersection of streets that the book describes.

The market is in the old town area, and is housed in a square, very nondescript, concrete building. I have not felt personally threatened at all since we arrived (possibly because I am usually asleep by 8 p.m.) but I do definitely notice that there is a sketchier element to some of the folks walking around the old town. So, it was appropriate and not surprising that this market is located there.

I noticed three mid-twenties guys standing at the entrance of the market as I entered. They definitely gave me a once-over. But I was wearing a pretty fancy Timberland button-down shirt, so they might have been noticing that.

As it turns out, entering the market was the most exciting thing about it. I didn't see any stolen items there, unless someone had the pants stolen off of them. It was more like a flea market, with vendors on each floor selling pants, shirts, shoes, toys, music and dvds, and more of the same. I found one stall selling watches. There was one watch that I liked and the price was right, but since it was the only watch I had seen that morning, I wanted to look around some more.

I went back out into the street and walked around a few corners. It's an odd thing, but the stores on any particular street all seem to sell the same thing. For example, one street might have stores selling only wedding dresses while the next has stores selling only pinatas. You can't find a store selling a pinata on the dress street. I wonder if this is a holdover from Colonial times. It's kind of quaint actually. Of course, the capitalist would move a drug store over a few blocks onto the souvenir shop street. Who wouldn't want a couple of aspirin with their sheepskin drum?

Of course, there is a street of stores that sell nothing but junk. Some of these stores had watches on display that looked like they might have been stolen, but none to my taste. I ended up walking into a Casio distribution center of some sort. Even though there were watches on display, none of the customers in the shop seemed to be shopping for a single watch for personal use. They were all poring over bags of watch bands, clasps, watch faces, etc. I think they brought these things for resale in the streets.

It's not unusual to see someone in the street here selling a random thing like a watchband. In fact, every time we walk through the old town I see this guy loaded down with shoelaces. He sells them. Next time I see him, I'll take a picture of him. It's kind of goofy to see a guy selling shoe laces in the steet, but actually, my boots need new laces.

A woman selling shoe laces in Old Town.

So, anyway, even though, no one was buying a watch for their wrist, when it came time for me to be serviced, no one was surprised when I asked to see a couple of the watches. I ended up buying a watch for $17 . In addition to time-telling, the watch also displays the date. That seemed to be a worthwhile feature to me. And since I was hoping to pay less than $20 for a stolen watch, I was happy to pay less than that for a new one.

By this time, my new watch told me that it was after 11 a.m., so I stopped for a juice. I hadn't seen any phones in my travels and I had to get the kids around 12.30. I decided to walk around the block another time to see if I missed the phones, and then head back down to the Ecovia.

As I walked, I saw a sign that seemed like it said phones. It didn't, but when I asked the people in the store if they knew where I could get a phone, they gave me what seemed to be a sly look, got out their own phone, and called someone. Now, I figured, I was onto something.

In a few minutes, a twenty-something with pierced facial parts and tattoos came in with a backpack. We chatted a few minutes about the type of phone I wanted, and he then motioned me to follow him. As we walked through the streets, I explained how I lost my phone, how Rebecca lost hers (pickpocketed on the Ecovia), and about her purse slashing. He kept giving me knowing looks and words of caution. I felt like we were into something clandestine.

After a few minutes walk, we turn a corner and go into a Porta store. Porta is the name of one of the cellular companies here. The guy worked there! It wasn't a clandestine meeting at all. He started showing me the different phones and different options on each like I was interested in buying a new phone. After a few minutes of feigning interest, I asked for some prices and confirmed that each phone was way more than I wanted to spend. I finally begged off with the fail-proof excuse that I'm just a guy and I need my wife to make a big purchase decision like this for me. That got me out of there.

As I headed back down to the Ecovia, feeling a little defeated, I noticed a shop with junk tumbling out of the store front. I decided to give it one last go. As I approached I noticed a lean, muscled guy with droopy red eyes sitting out front. I gave him a "Buenos dias" as I went into the store and he followed me in. I knew immediately that I had found the right place.

We chatted about general things as I looked at three or four scuffed, clearly used and most likely stolen phones. I could feel all my senses tingling. Life being breathed back into me. Instinctively, I had found a black market for phones. I didn't need any book to direct me. I still had it inside me. I almost wanted to go out and steal a phone so I could come back and sell it to this guy.

After a few minutes of looking at my options, I told the guy that I would come back the next day. I didn't tell him this, but I needed to talk things over with Rebecca to see what phone I should buy.

A Quick Dip into Baños

2008-06-30T07:48:00.000-07:00

This past weekend a few folks from Rebecca's office planned a trip to Baños, a resort town South of Quito. Since Rebecca was going, and Baños is supposed to be real nice, our whole crew tagged along. But, since the working folks weren't leaving until around 3 p.m. on Friday afternoon, and the bus ride is anywhere from three to five hours, we (me, Maya, Jonah, Opa and PoPo) decided to get started little bit earlier.

Getting on the bus to Baños could be an entire blog entry in itself. But I'll try to limit myself to only six paragraphs.

We (me, Maya, Jonah, Opa and PoPo) left the apartment around 11 a.m. on Friday to walk to the bus to take us to the Trole which would take us to the Cumanda bus station, where we were going to get on the bus to Baños. Because the map that I have doesn't list any Trole stops after Cumanda, I assumed it was the last stop. I was wrong. Cumanda is just a regular stop. You have to get out of the Trole, walk across the street, down a flight of stairs, and then into the bus station.

After we missed our stop, we got into a taxi that circled the bus station like a bomber zeroing in on its target. This was necessary, I was told. After racking up a two dollar fare, we finally got dropped off inside the bus station - which cost us another 50 cents so the taxi driver could pay the toll to get out of the station.

Every bus leaving for anywhere from Quito leaves from the Cumanda bus station. There are people, buses, dirt and garbage, and convenience stands everywhere, and everyone seems to be shouting out some city or another.

Trying to find a bus to Baños, took some time. But, finally, I got us three tickets (the kids ride free, which, I found out, means they don't get a seat. They have to ride on a lap) and we were told the bus would be leaving from behind door number three at 12.50 p.m. Why we had to enter through door 3 is a mystery, because all the doors lead to the same single platform where all the buses that are going anywhere are staging their departure.

Typically, the destination of the bus is indicated by fancy letters written on the front window of the bus. Easy enough. But the tickets that I purchased were for a particular company, and as our departure time approached, that bus was nowhere in sight. After talking to a few people, we decided that we could get on any bus going to Baños. So that's what we did. It turned out we picked a good bus because we got to Baños in about three hours (it took Rebecca nearly five) and we got to watch a movie (Cast Away. The only word I could understand was "Wilson" - the name of the volleyball.)

One cool thing about the bus rides in Ecuador is that vendors will come on the bus, or outside the bus windows as you sit in traffic, and hawk their wares. As we slowly inched our way out of Cumanda (along with a zillion other buses, must be only one exit) we had vendors come into the bus selling water, soda, ice cream, empanadas, bananas, piratedDVDs, phone cards, and jewelry. This happens along the way as well. As the bus slows down (rarely actually stopping) in a particular town to left off passengers in exchange for others, vendors will hop on the bus and ride it to the edge of town, or maybe even the next town if their sales are going well (i.e., the ice cream man). I suppose they hop on a bus going the opposite direction to get back to where they started. Here are some pictures of us enjoying our ice cream on the bus ride back to Quito on Sunday afternoon.

Anyway, we finally arrived in Baños around 4.30 p.m. on Friday afternoon. Fortunately, Baños is a pretty small town, so we were able to find our hotel easily. It was a pretty cool hotel, complete with Jamaican colors on the playground, tremendous leaves to hide under in case you forgot your umbrella, and this dog that both Maya and Jonah loved.

After getting our rooms and leaving our luggage, we set out to explore (and get some eats). Despite its size, however, the town was jumping. Really, there is a lot more to do here than we could accomplish in a day and a half.

Maya and Jonah hopped right into the nearest dune buggy and were all set for a ride. But, even Ecuador has some rules that can't be bargained away. Maya and Jonah had to step aside so people who are more crazy at the wheel, Mommy and Opa, could drive.

Looming over Baños is the active volcano Tungurahua. Unfortunately, a low and constant cloud cover (we confirmed with the hotel staff, it was not smoke from the volcano) hung over the town all weekend so we didn't get a good look at the volcano. But, we did enjoy the one benefit of living in constant fear of being vaporized in a sudden blast of molten lava - the thermal bath waters. The heated pool that you can see behind PoPo has a rival - a freezing pool that is cooled by the waterfall you see in the picture.

Not pictured - Jonah and Maya taking great pleasure in pushing Opa and Poppy into the freezing pool before we could enjoy the warmer waters.

Here is the pair of happy, relaxed Mommies before Rebecca realized her hair always looks this goofy.

Next to the thermal baths, was a small restaurant-type place selling the Ecuadorian specialty - llapingachos. Llapingachos are potato-pancake like things that are fried with cheese. Don't let my grimace fool you, they are quite tasty. Even Jonah liked them. There are also some fried bananas in the foreground of the second picture, and meats of unidentified origin stewing in the pot.

And, in Baños, we had the opportunity to justify the whole reason we came to Ecuador, to eat the cuy. These fellas hadn't yet met the grill.

And, you have to admit, they don't look all that appetizing even after they've been grilled (something about the head and teeth, we agreed). Sorry for the orientation of the picture, I can't get it to upload correctly. But, this is the closest shot we have of these sorry looking grilled things, so I wanted to post it. You'll have to turn your head sideways to see it with the correct orientation.

Despite this blog being named after the cuy and our quest to eat them, when given the chance, we all chickened out. Maybe we will chow down on these things if we can find a place that doesn't display them before putting them on your plate. Until that time, we settle for the tried and true, churrascoes, grilled trout and sea bass, and mexican burritos.

A not-so-happy party of cooked and uncooked cuy.

One thing we did all like was the sugar cane juice. It gets squeezed out of the cane stalks you see in the one picture by running it through a cane stalk squeezing contraption. Trying to upload a video of the process but having problems. Anyway, you can buy the juice at every stand in town for 40 cents a glass. You can also buy pieces of sugar cane to chew, guava paste, taffy and blackberry jam at every stand. I can't quite figure out how anyone makes a living selling the same exact thing - but I guess my standards of living and expectations for a livelihood are different. All the wares are good, but as a buyer, it's a bit hard to make a choice where to buy. We tried to spread the wealth by buying juice from one vendor, cane chews from another, jam from a third, etc. etc.

Notice the indigenous woman with the plastic bag wrapped around her hat.

Jonah, giving a cane chew the business.

Similarity of items is common among the crafts vendors as well. They all have the same style pants, bags, shirts, ceramics, carved wood things, jewelry, etc. etc. I guess the one thing that separates the vendors is how much they quote you when you ask how much for an item and how low they are willing to go in the haggling over price.

Regardless of the similarity, there were some cool things to buy. We spent forty bucks at one store buying pants, shirts, and this cute sweater and hip-hop hat for Maya.

Maya and Jonah also got the woven bracelets that the backpacking crowd will wear until they fall to pieces. Maya and Jonah took theirs off before we got back to the hotel.

Besides the threat of sudden extinction, the other thing Baños is known for is this taffy. All the vendors sell it. I'm not sure if this guy washed his hands before handling this batch, but the way he pulls it, bangs it off the wall, wraps it around the hook, bangs it off the wall, and does it all over again, I'm not sure that it matters.

Different flavors of whatever gives the taffy its chew are added to give different tastes and colors. Mandarin was our favorite. We hope that those of you on our gift list enjoy it as much as we did. And by the time you get it, you'll know if we got sick from eating it.

This Dog, That Dog

2008-06-27T06:25:00.000-07:00

We are traveling by bus today to Banos. We will return on Sunday night. Banos is a small resort town a few hours south of Quito that is famous for it's thermal baths which are heated by Vulcan Tungurahua.

You may remember hearing a few months ago (maybe April?) about a volcano that erupted in Ecuador? It was Tungurahua. Apparently, this volcano has been on yellow alert since 1999. Yellow alert is the equivalent of a pretty good risk that there will be an eruption. We've checked with our hotel and they have a pretty solid evacuation plan in place in case there is a lava flow. So, we feel safe.

Actually, it won't be the first time Rebecca and I have slept at the foot of an active volcano. When we visited Costa Rica in 2002 (a few months before Maya was born) we stayed at a hotel at the foot of Vulcan Arenal - one of the most active volcanoes in Central America. At night we sat on our porch and watched burning rocks and debris tumble out of the cone and down the sides of the mountain.

That hotel also had heated pools and water slides. The water slides were made out of concrete, so they were a bit rough on your backside and shoulders. But the water was warm!

Anyway, if you are wondering why there are no new posts this weekend, you now know the reason why.

In the meantime, here is a poem that I wrote, inspired by our recent trip to Mindo:

This Dog, That Dog

This dog said to that dog, I’ll take that little girl’s boot.
I’ll bury it in the yard right there. It’s what I’m gonna do.

That dog said to this dog, Do what you got to do.
But you’re a dog my friend and Man will kick you for his shoe.

This dog said to that dog, I got a flipty-flop.
I got it by the hot tub there. I just can’t seem to stop.

That dog said to this dog, Dog, you got to get a grip.
All it takes is one good kick and Man will break your hip.

This dog said to that dog, I got a lace-up type.
She left it by the doorstep when she came back from her hike.

That dog said to this dog, Well, that is a real nice shoe.
Mind if I just nuzzle in and get myself a chew?

That dog went to this dog and they chewed that shoe to pieces.
They left some lace, some rubber soul and a bit of lining fleeces.

Then this dog went around the grounds and that dog went there too.
They called some friends from here and there and forgot about the shoes.

And this dog trapped a nocturnal being underneath a car.
And that dog nosed a garbage can and sniffed around the bar.

And this dog called to that dog just to see what he was doing.
And that dog answered this dog back and talked about some new fun.

And because, of course, dogs sleep all day, and do not talk in whispers
All night long the hotel guests heard bark-bark, ruff-ruff, bark.

Adventure Girl

2008-06-26T11:08:00.000-07:00

Here are some more pictures from our weekend in Mindo.

Rebecca on the first of 10 ziplines.

Paul on the last of 10 ziplines.

Maya and Rebecca getting ready for their joint ride. Notice that they´re wearing helmets, to protect their head should the line snap and they plummet the 300 plus feet to the bottom of the rainforest floor.

Here´s the video of Rebecca and Maya on the return from their zipline ride. They don´t call this a cloud forest for nothing. You couldn´t see them through the clouds until they were right there.

A post zipline juice at the local juice bar. We loved the swings and the yummy tropical juices. The best was Maya´s pineapple milkshake.

Here´s the ¨cable car¨ that we took across the jungle valley to the waterfalls.
You can´t really see the depth of the plunge down because it´s all green, but it was pretty far down.

Maya in Flight and on Foot

2008-06-23T18:16:00.000-07:00

We spent a long weekend (Saturday to Monday) in Mindo, a small village about 1 and 1/2 hours drive from Quito. Mindo's climate is in a transitional area between high-altitude temperature zones and lower-altitude, humid, sub-tropical forests, so we had to pack both long sleeve and short sleeve shirts. Also, because Mindo borders these two climates, many species can thrive there, so it has hundreds of bird and butterfly species and over four thousand varieties of orchid in the area. There are also hammocks. Here is Jonah putting Mommy down for her afternoon nap.

If you are super into birdwatching, you can rent guides for $100 a day and go out into the forests and see hundreds of different types of bird species. We aren't that into birdwatching. Our idea of birdwatching was to look into the nearby trees as we sat in the hot tub. Just doing that we saw some very brightly-colored and oddly-beaked birds. I suppose a guide could have told us the names, but I would have just forgotten them anyway.

We were really excited to stay at the hotel that we did, El Carmelo de Mindo. We wanted to be in the forest (since we live in the city) and the hotel delivered on that count. It was set a few kilometers out of town, had hiking trails on the grounds, beautiful flowers, birds and butterflies, and you could hear the nearby river as you lay in bed. We wanted something fun for the kids to do there. It delivered by having three different pool areas (and a pool table). And the pools were not boring old rectangles. These were Caribbean-quality resort-type pools. And no, Opa is not sucking in his gut to puff up his chest.

And, to top it all off, you could rent a tree house as your room. When Rebecca and I went to India in the late 20th century, we stayed in a tree house at the beach in Goa, so I was thinking we'd relive that time (without the morning, noon, and night sex).

But alas, although we had planned to stay in a tree house (this one even had a satellite TV dish), we ended up staying in an alpine-style cabin. The tree houses didn't have much living space (big enough for a bed and table and toilet and sink) and anyone who has invited us to stay at their house knows that the suitcase we have vomits clothes all over the room as soon as we arrive. Plus, getting into and out of the tree houses several times a day wouldn't have been practical with Maya and Jonah. It sucks to be a grown-up and think about these things, but at this point in my role as parent, I am resigned to it. Oh well. We had a fun time in the cabin. Here is a photo of Maya and Jonah on the balcony.

And here is a photo of Opa giving Maya her first lesson in breaking and entering.

The town of Mindo itself turned out to have that third world look that makes you feel like you are living on the edge - even when you just put on clean underwear that morning. Because we were trying to save space on our camera's memory card, Rebecca deleted the photo I took of town. But despite it's muddy street and packs of wild dogs and chickens, it has an incredible amount of things going on. There are dozens of hotels and restaurants in the two or three block area that makes up the town center, as well as dozens of tour operators promoting various activities to keep you entertained.

The few restaurants we ate at were good. Though, I have to say, the place we ate lunch on Saturday, called El Chef, turned out to be the best. I was happy to discover a new meal that I can eat for the rest of the summer and can recommend highly - churrasco. Churrasco is thinly sliced beefsteak accompanied by two fried eggs, rice, fried plaintains or french fries, and vegetables or a salad. El Chef sells it for $3.80. Another place we lunched sold it for $4.75. The eggs were perfect and it came with patacones (which are thick-sliced, fried banana chips) but the steak was tough, rendering the meal disappointing.

We were joking that in a small place like Mindo, there are probably only a few good cooks, and probably only one is outstanding. So if you own a restaurant, the competition to hire the outstanding local chef is probably intense. If you miss out on hiring him or her, you may as well open a place that offers bird-watching or adventure tours. We guessed that the best cook in town worked at El Chef (and got the place named after him or herself).

As for activities other than eating, in addition to the birdwatching, butterfly-ing, and orchid-ing, you can go horseback riding, tubing on the river, four-wheeling, take a cable car to a waterfall hike, or go on a canopy tour on zip lines.

Zip lines are cables strung from tree to tree over a canyon, gorge or other valley-like place. You get yourself all geared up in a harness, lock yourself onto the cable in a few different places, and zip over this vast drop to the opposite platform, which could be 300 or 400 meters away. Then, hike up or down to the next launch point and do it all over.

Here is Rebecca on her way out of the first launch station.

Rebecca and I had never done zip lines before (Opa had done it as a day trip on one of the hundred cruises he has been on) and the first launch, as you sit suspended in the air hundreds of feet above the tree line, was pretty intense. After I got over the adrenaline rush of the first few launches, and could focus on the views, it was pretty outstanding. Rebecca needed an additional rush, so did something called the butterfly. The butterfly is when you hang upside down from the cable and flap your arms and legs like they were butterfly wings. Our camera battery was dead, so we didn't get a picture of Rebecca doing this enormously funny-looking stunt. But we did get a picture of a me and Opa looking serious and of a woman we were with doing the butterfly stunt.

Maya was pretty upset when we got geared up and readied to do our first launch. Her eyes were tearing and she was being very brave not to cry. I guess she thought we were going to plummet to our deaths (the thought actually crossed my mind as well). But, by the time we got back, Maya said she wanted to try it! It may have helped that a whole family of kids around her age were just getting set to take off.

Since it was getting late, Rebecca and Maya only did a launch out and back. Rebecca said Maya was smiling the whole time. And when she came back, you couldn't help but notice that she was glowing. We were really proud of her. And, she surprised us even more by saying that the two zips wasn't enough, she wanted to do all ten! So we went back on Monday so she and Rebecca could get the full monty. When we asked Jonah if he wanted to go, he said "No. Maybe when I'm five or six."

Because our camera was kaput for the weekend, Opa and PoPo took all the pictures. Since we've returned, we keep forgetting to ask them to bring their whatchamacallit so we can download the pictures they took of Maya in space to our computer. Also, they have all the photos of the following adventure on their camera as well. So, I'll post extra pictures to this entry in a day or two. Incidentally, I posted some pics to the "Religion, Brought to you by the City of Quito" entry tonight. So you may want to check them out.

Maya also wanted to do this thing called The Tarabita. The Tarabita is a cable car ride across a river valley, and then a variety of hikes to seven different waterfalls. The cable car turned out to be more scary to me than the zip lines. Picture the carriage-type thing from those old school swing sets that you and I grew up with hurtling three hundred feet in the air across a river valley, and propelled by a car engine. Then picture a guy that looks like Chong from Cheech and Chong at the controls. Then imagine your fear.

But, we made it across the valley and did the shortest hike (about 20 minutes) to a waterfall called El Narambillo. It was a small waterfall, but Opa and I had fun swimming in our underwear in the pool at its base. Maya, Jonah and Rebecca actually had their swim suits with them (well, Jonah had his birthday suit) but couldn't take the cold water so just stood around looking wistful. And, the most impressive thing was that both Maya and Jonah walked about ninety-eight percent of the hike (and it was fairly steep on the way back). The hike must have really worn Jonah out because he fell asleep on the car ride home at about 5 p.m. and slept through the night.

Religion, Brought to you by the City of Quito

2008-06-20T07:42:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like a Spanish-conquered country to prompt an observant, thoughtful little girl to pose the questions that have puzzled intellects and caused countless wars and acts of violence through the centuries.

Earlier this week, Maya, Jonah and I were in Parque Alameda, which borders the old and new towns. There is a low promontory in the park that provides a nice view on the surrounding area (and a not-so-nice view of the surrounding rooftops). Here is a view of the park from the promontory.

And a few shots of Maya, Jonah, Opa and I having a pedal boat ride around the park.

From the promontory you can see a gi-normous church to the near southwest that sits roughly on the border of the old and new towns. Maya, of course, saw the church and asked what it was. We had some binoculars with us and could see people standing on the towers of the church. That looked cool, so we decided to go there.

It turns out the Basilica del Voto Nacional is the tallest church in Ecuador (115 meters to the top of the tallest tower - 115 meters is about 120 yards). The church was built around the turn of the 20th century and is in the typical neo-gothic style - flying buttresses, spires, arches, and statutes of saints and gargoyles. Inside it's cavernous and dark, with only candlelight and the natural light from the stained glass windows shedding any light on the situation. The windows have scenes from Jesus' life and Maya and I talked about that. It was cute that as soon as we entered, the kids started talking in whispers without any prompting from me. The size and solemnity of the place just evoked that reaction. Here is a photo of it from Parque Alameda.

To get into the towers you take an elevator to the attic of the church and then have to climb a few ladders that are about as perpendicular to the ground as you can get without tipping backwards. So, the kids chickened out. I was glad they did. I realized as we approached the first ladder that 1) this was no place for kids, especially a two-and-a-half year old, 2) the thought of them climbing the ladder was too much for me to take, so the reality would have been out of the question, and 3) I'm a little bit afraid of heights. Not curl up in a ball and die afraid, but definitely timid around ledges and drops. And I don't want the kids anywhere near ledges and drops.

We did manage to climb up into the clock towers on a long winding spiral staircase. Maya managed it by herself and I carried Jonah. I could see the staircase going up and up from where I decided was as high as we were going and finally disappearing through the ceiling into this glowing white light. Even if someone told me heaven was into the light, I would have decided we'd had enough. My heart and nerves couldn't take anymore climbing. I kept imagining Maya missing a step and plunging through the very narrow opening that there was no way she could have actually fit through. But even realizing that, I was still nervous. When we got back down to solid ground, Maya told me that she had wanted to go higher.

(Column Intermission I - The clocks in the clock towers of the Basilica actually were working and kept the correct time. We spent a few minutes of our lives there just watching the gears working and the minute hand moving. I have noticed that other clock towers in Quito, be it on churches, banks, other random steeples or wherever, all work and keep the correct time. Fairly impressive for a city that has bigger problems to worry about than making sure its public clocks keep the correct time.)

As it turns out the white light is not heaven. The spiral staircase just goes to the very top of the spiral tower that we first noticed from the park.

There were some balconies at the ceiling level where the elevator stops that we got some nice views from. I didn't have the camera with me that day, so no pictures. One of the things we could clearly see from one of the balconies is the statue of the Virgin de Quito on El Panecillo.

Here is the Virgin in all her glory.

El Panecillo is a hill on the south end of the old town. The Virgin de Quito is a thirty meter high statute of the winged virgin of Quito standing on an orb with a serpent curled around her feet and chained to her arm. Yesterday (Thursday) we took a taxi to the summit of Panecillo with Opa and PoPo, and then Maya, Jonah and I climbed the few flights of stairs to the platform at the base of the statute. That was fun for them - not so much for me as the platform is surrounded by this rusting, broken iron fence that has gaps large enough for an enterprising young one to squeeze him or herself through and plunge to his or her death.

The statute isn't really the attraction of El Panecillo, though. Though, Maya did want to ask a few questions about who the statute was (I told her it was Jesus' mother) and why it was there (a present to God).

The views of the city from the top of the hill and the platform are spectacular. Old town in the foreground is all low, fairly symmetrical white buildings, with a church spire poking up here and there. Then, not too far to the North where the new town begins, the low buildings give way to high rises of all shapes and sizes. It's pretty striking. I took pictures, but I am sure that they won't convey the emotions one feels when viewing the real thing. But, at least you can see where the old town and new town meet.

So, anyway, with the Basilica and the Virgin, Maya is getting a view of the willingness of a government to splurge on religious excesses and idols. And hopefully, she is getting non-biased answers to her questions that related to religion. I think her next religious experience will be art. There are some interesting sounding museums in Quito that house paintings from an era called the Quito School of Art.

Basically, after the Spaniards conquered the Incas, they used Catholicism to colonize the natives. To do this, they wanted to saturate the country with religious architecture and works of art. As part of the process, they made the natives start painting pictures of religious objects. Eventually, the Quitano natives developed their own style which involved lots of gold overlays and other decorative coloring - the Quito School of Art.

I'm not really into art (though, I do appreciate Jack Black movies) but these paintings sound interesting enough to at least get a look at some of them. And, I'm curious to see what Maya's reaction to it will be.

I already know what Jonah's reaction will be, "Poppy, I have to go poo-poo."

Nothing to Say, As Usual

2008-06-18T20:00:00.001-07:00

I have nothing to say, as usual. But this time, I won't bore you by saying it in fifty or sixty lines of type. I was going through some pictures and decided to do a pictorial post. Hope you enjoy the pictures.

On an unrelated note, scroll to the bottom of the page to vote in our poll.

The pictures:
Here is a shot of Maya and Jonah at a post in the ground representing the equator. There is apparently another, more touristy, middle of the world that we are supposed to visit for the real Equator experience. This was just a quick pit stop on the way back from Otavalo.

Mommy and Jonah checking out the goldfish at one of the ponds on the Pachamama grounds.

Jonah on the ropes.

A hike through a Eucalyptus tree forest. You could really smell the eucalyptus.

A happy couple we saw in the park.

Roadside fruit stand - selling nothing but chilly-moyas (sp?). There was a whole street of these stands. We stopped because we thought they were avocados. A chilly-moya has the consistency of a pear, but this bunch that we brought was much sweeter than a pear. Others we have tasted have no taste. Guess they weren't ripe. The flesh of the fruit surrounds big black pits. Must have about twenty or thirty pits in it. But they are big and easy to spit out for us veterans of the by-gone days of watermelon seeds.

Rebecca and I out with two of her colleagues.

Maya on the zip line at Pachamama.

And for the grand finale, some photos of my beautiful daughter.

Existentialism for Pre-Schoolers

2008-06-17T19:29:00.000-07:00

If you read this blog regularly, you know that we have had some unfortunate experiences in the last few days (and I'm not even talking about both Rebecca and me losing our cell phones on consecutive days). While Jonah has continued walking around oblivious to just about everything around him that isn't candy or ice cream, Maya has cornered Rebecca with some serious existential questions.

A few weeks ago, when Maya and I were in the Museo de Banco Central, we looked at an Incan burial chamber. We got to talking about sacrifice, life after death, and God and I tried to explain it all by comparing God to Santa Claus. Well, I've invited everyone's favorite guest blogger, Rebecca Eichler, back tonight to illustrate that kids have long memories.

I'm not sure which is harder, dealing with the consequences of having your wallet stolen and the emotions of losing a loved one, or trying to answer a 5 year-old's questions about those things.

On Sunday, as we all stood a bit baffled by my slashed purse, Maya kept asking me why someone would do such a thing.

"Because there are bad people," I said.
"Why are people bad?" she asked.
"Well, sometimes people are just bad and do bad things, and sometimes people have to do things that are bad for others because they have to, like if they're poor," I tried to answer.
"Why are they poor?" she asked. Wow. They're poor because they don't work hard enough. Because they're born into poverty in a country that doesn't have many opportunities based on the color of your skin. Because hundreds of years ago their people were exploited for their gold. Because today their people are exploited for their bananas and oil. Because the world is an unfair place. Trying to explain the inequities in the world wasn't what I was up for at the moment, so I mumbled something about how fortunate we were to come from Virginia where everyone is quite rich compared to many people in Ecuador and the people and the government have lots of money to do lots of things.

This obviously didn't satisfy Maya because 20 minutes later she asked, "Why did someone steal your wallet?"

Later in the evening, when we received the news of my grandmother's death, I had the added challenge of trying to explain death to a 5 year-old. "Why did SciPoPo die?"

Fortunately I was at Maya's school the day the class rabbit died and got to hear her wise teacher, Mrs. Bradley, explain death to pre-schoolers, so I was somewhat prepared to answer. I told Maya that SciPoPo was very old and had done all the things that she was supposed to do in life and that it was her time to die. This was about as much as I could remember from Mrs. Bradley's discussion with the kids, so I threw in some stuff about all the great things that SciPoPo had done. I told Maya that she had had six children and we were alive because SciPoPo had PoPo and PoPo had me and I had her. That seemed to satisfy her somewhat, until about 10 minutes later when she asked, "Why did SciPoPo die?" (Lest you get the impression that Maya is dense, I think it's normal that 5 year-olds ask the same question over and over again, especially for abstract concepts. She did the same thing when the rabbit died and the school chicken was eaten by a fox. Mrs. Bradley could explain why this is, I'm sure.)

Something I had told Maya during the evening must have stuck in her mind because when I was putting her to bed, after again asking "Why did SciPoPo die?" she asked me, "Mommy, how did the first person get born?" Now that I was not in the least prepared to answer. I told her that we don't really know because nobody is alive now who was around then, but that some people believe we came from animals and some people believe that God made the first man from mud ("Yuck!") and then made a woman from him. I told her that there are lots of other things that other people believe but that I didn't know all the stories and that we'd look it up in the library when we went back to Virginia. She seemed somewhat satisfied by this, but then said - genius that she is:
"How did the first animal get born?" It was getting late and my brain wasn't working so well so I said that when the earth started there were some bugs that turned into animals that became people. I was thinking about the cartoon movie at the Museum of Natural History in DC where the bugs that live in the water make the move onto dry land. Thinking about it now, I realize they were some sort of fish, not bugs.
"But how did the bugs get there?" Oh my god! Go to sleep! was what I wanted to say, but instead I told her that different people believe different things, but that I believed that maybe there was some magic from something, maybe God, that put the bugs there.
"But how did the earth get made?" Again, I said something about how some people believe it was God and other people believe there was a big explosion that made the earth and the moon and the sun. I told her that these were three really good questions and that people spend their whole lives trying to figure them out. It made me wish that we were religious because I'd have an easier time answering these Big Questions.
She didn't quite seem satisfied by my feeble attempts to explain the World and Everything In It and then said she had a fourth question: "Is God like Santa Claus?"

Sangolqui was Bust

2008-06-15T18:42:00.000-07:00

Sangolqui is a market town located about 15 kilometers from Quito. We went there today (Sunday) with the hope of satiating the shopping bug that has taken hold of Rebecca since her mother arrived in town. But, the market was a general produce market (which I would have known if I could only remember what I read). So, all we were able to buy was some strawberries (for a buck), four papayas (also a buck), fifteen tangerines (a buck), a dozen tomatoes (a buck) and a pineapple (I think that was a buck too). If I was hell-bent on spending cash, even I wouldn't consider that a very satisfying shopping day.

Here is a picture of Opa wondering if just one bag of garlic will be enough.

And a picture of PoPo in her version of heaven, hundreds of dead stinky fish on a table.

And here is a picture of Maya picking out dinner. Yes, those are cuy in the near basket. And no, they aren't there to be brought home and made into pets.

Anyway, to add to our general disappointment with the shopping scene, two bad things happened while we were there.

The first bad thing that happened is that Rebecca had her wallet stolen. While we were chowing down on fried fish in a crowded market stall, someone slashed her purse without her knowing, reached in and took her wallet (which contained our credit card, ATM card, and her drivers license) and the case for our camera. Fortunately, the camera was in another pocket in her purse and not in its case, so we still have it - as evidenced by this photo that we took immediately after she tried to pay for our lunch and realized someone had been snooping in her purse. You can see the gash in the side of the bag. Opa was perplexed that such a thing could happen. And yes, Rebecca did call him in the morning to see if he was going to wear his blue striped shirt.

We had been warned about the slash and grab technique as far back as India - which we visited in 1998. Not only are pickpockets a concern in crowded places, but one must be cognizant of the slash and grab. In a slash and grab, someone will cut a purse or backpack with a razor, grab whatever valuables fall out, and take off. In this case, the slash was only just large enough for a hand to reach in, and a small hand at that. I couldn't get my hand in the slash that was cut. So, we wondered if a child was in cahoots with whomever did the slashing. Or even if a child was the sole culprit.

Her purse was slung over her head and shoulder but laying to her back side as she ate. Afterwards, Rebecca said that she felt tugging on her purse at one point while she was eating, moved the purse to her front but then felt she was being an overcautious gringo.

We think that she only had $11 bucks in her wallet (which begs the question - was she serious about doing serious shopping today?). We called the credit card company as soon as we got back to the apartment and no charges had been made. Which isn't surprising. Every time I use the credit card the clerk asks for ID and really looks at it. That's quite a novelty from the custom in the States.

We also checked the account from which our ATM funds are withdrawn, and the only one depleting it is us. Here are some picture of us on the bus back to Quito. Maya wasn't interested in having her picture taken.

Our new cards should be here this coming week. It's a hassle, but not the end of the world. I'm pretty sure Rebecca is most upset that 1) the wallet (more of a change purse) that was stolen was one that she really liked that she got in Thailand and 2) her purse is ruined. On the bright side, it gives her an excuse to be in the market for a new purse.

Maya was asking questions about why someone would slash Mommy's purse and steal what was in there. Rebecca told her that some people do things that are bad for other people. Sometimes, people do bad things for evil reasons, and sometimes they do them out of necessity. Maya has seen the kids her age and younger working sales of trivial objects at intersections. She knows that it is a hard life for some people here in Ecuador.

Even at my advanced age, it was kind of surreal to see the slashed purse and understand what happened. But, when I think about it in context, I can see why we should have been more careful in Sangolqui not to let this happen. It was a local produce market. Local people come here to buy their sustenance for the week. Besides us, I don't recall seeing one gringo in Sangolqui today. It was nearly the exact opposite of the market in Otavalo, which had elements of local necessity, but was primarily geared towards tourists. So, in Sangolqui, there is no consequence to the overall reputation of the market among tourists. If you slash and steal from enough tourists, word will spread and they won't come back. But so what? We spent about five bucks there today. However, in Otavalo, protection of the reputation of the market is paramount. They can't afford too many thefts because they need tourists to come and feel safe. In that case, there is no need to slash and steal from us because we will buy the stuff that is for sale. So, we are less likely to have our stuff stolen in Otavalo, even though we may be careless, than we are in Sangolqui. Maybe that theory is all BS, and we just were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it's one way to think about it. And, I'm sure we will all be more careful, wherever we are, in the future.

The other bad news we got when we returned to the apartment. PoPo's mom, Rebecca's grandmother, died in Hong Kong. Sci-PoPo (Maya and Jonah's great-grandmother) was ailing, and her death at this time is not a complete surprise, but just this morning, PoPo got a report from her brother that Sci-PoPo was maintaining at the level of health that she was at. That was good news. So the news was somewhat shocking, and of course, whenever anyone loses a dearly loved one, heartbreaking.

I met Sci-PoPo in November 2000 when Rebecca and I had the Hong Kong version of our wedding. She was 90 and robust at the time. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures on the computer to post from October 2003, when Maya went to Hong Kong to meet Sci-PoPo and put the finishing touches on walking. Though, I know we have actual pictures of the two of them together. We must only have had a 35 mm camera at that time. We are sorry that Jonah never got to meet Sci-PoPo. The report is that she died peacefully in her sleep, at the ripe age of 96, so we are thankful for that.

To add to the feeling of gloom, we will be missing PoPo and Opa when they fly to Hong Kong for the funeral in a few days. Not sure how long they will be gone, but they have promised that they will return to Ecuador for the remainder of their scheduled visit. That's a bright spot.

Mr. Clean and Mother Earth

2008-06-14T18:00:00.000-07:00

Maya and Jonah completed their first week of school this past week. I use the term "school" loosely. The place isn't nearly as inspiring as Pachamama, the school they would have attended if we moved to Tumbaco. In fact, I don't think I can say anymore that my kids never attended day care. As far as I can tell, the school day goes as follows. Get there and sing a few songs in Spanish. Go outside and play. Come inside to eat a snack - which often includes ice cream and cake. Go back outside and play. Maybe do a craft. Go home. How ironic that this has happened while I am the primary care giver.

But, we feel somewhat justified in this day care arrangement in that the idea in sending them anywhere is for them to learn some Spanish. As Rebecca mentioned in her blog the other night, after just a few days around kids her age, Maya is already starting to use some Spanish words and phrases and ask "Que se llama" (what is this called). And Jonah isn't shy about saying "Hola" and "Gracias" when prompted. His pronunciation is terrible, but he's young, he has time to work on it.

At almost six years old, Maya is a veteran of attending school. So we weren't worried about how she would adapt to being sent away from home every morning. As expected, she seems to like it. She got a little teary on Tuesday as I was leaving her at the school, but I think it was mostly because the one English speaking teacher hadn't arrived yet. Once Miss Barbara got there, it was like, "Okay, see you Poppy." Right now, Miss Barbara is her bridge to understanding the other kids.

I think it was that same day, as I was walking Maya to school, that she spent a lot of the walk skipping. Indicative, of her mindset at the time - free of stress about being left at school.

Jonah, on the other hand, has never been left anywhere where he wasn't with Mommy, Poppy, Opa, PoPo, Grandma, Grandpa, or some other family member that he knew well. Actually, now that I think about it, Rebecca has had to leave him with friends of ours at certain times, but the results weren't pretty. So, we didn't know what to expect in this case. But, he's been fine about it. Probably because Maya is there with him. I get the impression that on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, when both Maya and Jonah are there, they don't play much with the other kids. And I'm okay with that. At least they are out of the little hair that I have left.

With Maya and Jonah both being at school three days I week, I figured I had to do something more than sit around the house watching Spanish soaps to make this trip more than just an extended vacation. So, I signed up for Spanish language lessons. My teacher, Eduardo, came recommended by one of the girls that Rebecca works with.

After seeing the guy, and hearing that he has given Robin (Rebecca's colleague) a ride on his motorcycle, I was worried that it wasn't his Spanish language skills that were recommended. But, after two lessons, I'm pretty comfortable that he can help me improve my Spanish. Incidentally, he' s charging me $9 an hour. That is the negotiated price after he asked for $10 an hour. Nine bucks is a bit high, I think, (my in-laws are paying $6.25 an hour) but because I don't have to go anywhere (he's a Spanish teacher that makes house calls) I felt it was worth it to pay a couple bucks more. Plus, his schedule was flexible enough where he can meet when I wanted too. The two language schools that I considered could not.

So today, kind of just to remind ourselves of what we left behind, we attended the Pachamama end of school year festival. Rebecca hadn't seen the place, and Paul and Sylvia, our would-be Tumbaco neighbors, suggested we come and check out the festivities. The school kids (Pachmama has grades K-12) all put on performances of varying degrees of accomplishment, there was food to be eaten (as it turns out, real good local dishes for real cheap), and the grounds of the school are fantastic.

Actually, I picture the school buildings and grounds as similar to the compound that a successful Columbian cartel boss would have. Think Pablo Escobar. The buildings are all wood and thatch and have the Mediterranean style red-tile roofs that we all get nostalgic for. There are bricked walkways through the gardens, a small bamboo forest bordering a small creek, two goldfish ponds, all sorts of wood play things, a zip line for the kids (Big hit with Maya. Will try to post video), a great big lawn, chickens running around, a slight smell of sewage. The only thing I didn't see where the armed guards. And the piles of cocaine.

Despite the lack of drugs, it was a pretty good time. Jonah spent about 45 minutes running up and down a hill while I threw a confetti of flower petals left behind from one of the performances over him. Maya spent most of her time on the zip line. In case you don't know what a zip line is, picture a wire stretched from Point A (slight uphill side) to Point B (downhill side) with a circular swing seat attached. You sit on the seat at Point A and end up at Point B. When the wheel on the wire meets the rubber bumper at Point B, the force of the impact propels the seat forward on an arc for extra fun. Maya said the extra fun was the most fun.

We took the bus back and forth and got back to Quito around 4.30. The house cleaner that we had left here at 10 was still here cleaning! Our place is only 600 square feet! I checked around the base of the toilet after she left and it was clean. So, I guess she spent at least some of the time cleaning.

Her six plus hours of work cost us $22, including cleaning supplies and her lunch. Apparently, in Ecuador, the custom is that you buy your cleaning lady lunch. Remember that if you ever hire a cleaning lady in Ecuador.

Rebecca and I were bitching about the cost because it wasn't really our idea to have the place cleaned. Carmen was here the other day and mentioned something about how messy something was. Okay, it was the toilet. The toilet was messy. Our kids crap, like, five times each a day. I can't check the facilities after every time. I wouldn't have any time to do anything else.

Anyway, the day after she was here, Carmen called and asked if we wanted her to send her cleaner around. Rebecca can't say no to Carmen (and I don't know how to) so here comes the house cleaner and there goes our twenty-two bucks.

Really, we should just get a grip. Before we left Alexandria we had our house cleaned. It cost us a lot more than $22, didn't include lunch, and we didn't even get to live in the shining splendor. At least here, we'll get to enjoy the cleanliness for the day or two that it lasts.

The Many Faces of Jonah

2008-06-12T20:11:00.001-07:00

Rebecca and I went out for dinner and drinks with some girls from her office tonight.
So, even though I have some things to say about the first week of school (Maya's, Jonah's, my in-laws, and mine) we'll just post these few shots of Jonah being his ham-it-up self. That boy will do anything for a laugh. It almost concerns me.

Light in the Jungle

2008-06-12T18:12:00.000-07:00

Tonight, back by popular demand (both of her readers requested more from her) I give you, my talented, sweet, free-loading, wife - Rebecca Eichler.

So working with refugees isn't all doom and gloom. Earlier this week we had some wonderful news. One of our clients was recognized as a refugee by the Ecuadorian government. This means that he and his family (wife and 3 children) can stay in Ecuador legally, work, own property and go to school. This was great news for them but also for Asylum Access because since the Ecuador office is relatively new (only started seeing clients in November 2007), this client was one of our first victories.

This was also a particularly compelling case. The client was a from a small town in Colombia. He was a popular and talented soccer player in his town, who worked as a type of social worker helping local kids overcome drug addiction and organizing youth sports. He has a gorgeous wife and three of the most well-behaved and beautiful children I have ever met. The kids went to the best school in town and they were living a solidly middle-class life. Last year he was approached by a local politician because of his popularity and invited to run for office on his ticket. One of the messages of the politician's campaign was anti-drug. My client accepted and began campaigning.

Now the thing is, in Colombia, being anti-drug means being anti-FARC. This is because the FARC, and the paramilitary groups, and probably even the government, fund a large part of their operations by trafficking in drugs. To come out openly in opposition to their livelihood pisses off a lot of people wielding machetes and guns, who are willing to use them.

Soon after the client began his political career, he also began to receive death threats. One night someone even threw a rock through a window in his house. He had to tell his three children, ages 9, 8, and 7, that it was some sort of accident. Of course he wanted to withdraw from the race, but it was past a deadline by which he could have withdrawn, so he was stuck in the race. He continued to get death threats until he lost the election.

Long story short, these threats culminated in a physical attack at the end of April and the first week of May his family packed up and came to Ecuador to seek refugee status. They've told the kids that they're on vacation while they're living in a homeless shelter here in Quito.

One day almost two weeks ago, on his way to our office for their first appointment to prepare for the interview to determine their refugee status, a car pulls up in front of the family and two men jump out and try to pull him into the car. The wife and kids start screaming and fortunately they were with another refugee family, also on their way to our office, and the father of that family manages to hold the man back and keep him out of the car. The erstwhile kidnappers rush off and both families run to our office.

We managed to get them both new accommodation in a "secret" location and because of the obvious lack of security to the family, we also got their refugee status hearings expedited. So last week they told their story to the government and on Tuesday they learned that they were official refugees. In the office we're all quite proud of this small victory.

On a related subject of small victories, after a week of school, Maya started speaking to me in Spanish today. In the shower tonight when the water was too hot, she asked for "agua fria" . Then as we were getting ready for bed, she continuously asked me "Que es esta?" her new favorite phrase. It means "What is this?" I think she must use it a lot at school.

A Word on Behalf of the Spanish Conquest and About the Gringo Tax

2008-06-10T10:12:00.000-07:00

As proof that the Spanish Conquest of South America wasn’t all bad, I’d like to present – Otavalo.

Yes, it is true that Francisco Pizarro, the first Spanish entrepreneur in South America, returned the invitation of the Incan King, Atahualpa, to visit at Cajamarca, by launching a surprise attack, taking him hostage and massacring his army. And, yes, it is also true that when Atahualpa bargained for his life by filling a room with gold and two huts with silver, Pizarro killed him anyway. And yeah, okay, it’s true that more than half of the indigenous population died from foreign diseases introduced by the Spanish for which the natives had no bodily defenses. And, yeah, whoever was left was converted to Christianity and told it was God’s will that all the men, women and children work in sweatshops for countless hours, under atrocious conditions, without any hope of breaking free. And by the way, here’s a small plot of land. In your spare time, grow your own food.

But look what the Otavaleños have to show now for the exploitation and degradation of their ancestors - a strong work ethic and weaving skills that are recognized as tops in South America and among the best in the world!

Here are some pictures of Jonah and me re-enacting scenes from the life of Francisco Pizarro and his right-hand man, Hernando de Soto.

The first photo is of Pizarro and de Soto looking pleased that Atahualpa has delivered the precious metals he promised in exchange for his life.

The second photo is of Pizarro and de Soto right before they double-cross Atahualpa. In the photos, Jonah plays the role of Pizarro.

The weaving, leather-working, and carving skills of the folks in the surrounding region are on display every Saturday in the Otavalo market, where gringos can buy blankets, wraps, sweaters, pants, shirts, hats, hammocks, wallets, purses, masks, and everything else that can be woven, worked from leather, or carved, at prices that make you blush, but are, apparently, sustainable for the vendors. And while it is true that there are indigenous elements to the market – as evidenced by the sale of live animals, dead animals, dried beans, corn and spices – the market clearly has the tourist trade in mind. Consider the prosperity it brings to the region a form of reparation for the abuse of millions of ancestral natives.

A law professor I had once said that the prices on products in, for example, the grocery store, are merely a suggestion of a price to be paid. So, when you bring a can of corn to the register and the clerk scans it for 55 cents, you could counter that offer by offering 30 cents. You should load up a shopping cart at Giant or Safeway and try this. It is great fun.

Here in Ecuador (and other places that Rebecca and I have visited) the vendor of any particular good or service expects you to haggle over the price. So, the grocery store clerk in the above example would be ready to counter your counter-offer of 30 cents for the can of corn by offering a sale for, say, 45 cents. And you would agree, or counter again, until there was an agreement on the price to be paid.

Whereas (one of my law professors also said that), in the States if you tried to haggle over the price of a can of corn at the grocery store, you would likely be met with a slack-jawed, wide-eyed, vacant stare – with maybe some drool thrown in to really make the point.

Nothing seems to be off limits for haggling here, either (except, in some instances, the price of taxi. I will explore this subject further in a future brain vomit tentatively titled – “Taxis – How Far are You Willing to Go?). I’ve seen women haggling over the price of garlic at the fruteria. I haven’t tried that myself, but I did haggle over the price of the three fish that we ate for lunch in Otavalo on Saturday. The woman wanted six bucks, but I protested that the fish were small and only had to pay $5.50.

It may seem silly to haggle over fifty cents, but to some degree haggling is expected, and it does serve a purpose. Where to draw the line on your haggling is the thing. It’s silly to walk away from something that you want because the vendor won’t come down an additional fifty cents. So, for those things that you know you want, you need to decide the price you are willing to pay and stop when you get there.

The purpose of haggling is that it paves the way for the next gringo that comes along to not be completely taken advantage of. Sure, there are plenty of times when I’m going to pay more for goods or services because I’m not a local (Rebecca and I call this the gringo price, or the gringo tax. To my knowledge, we are not the originators of those phrases.) And even when I agree that $5.50 is a fair price to pay for three fish and a dozen potatoes maybe I am paying more than a local would. But I would be willing to pay $6 for the fish, so why complain if I have to pay $5.50? If the woman is willing to take $5.50, she’s making a profit, and I’m feeling like I didn’t get taken advantage of because I got her to knock 50 cents off the price. Try that at McDonald´s.

Details of a Weekend Spent Sheepherding

2008-06-09T17:46:00.000-07:00

The ride out to Otavalo in the Mystery Van that Carmen is renting to us wasn't bad. It took about two hours on these windy, mountain roads. Being the driver, I didn't get too long a look at the scenery, but the few glimpses I did catch garnered pretty, expansive views of the valley.

When we got to Otavalo, we just parked on the street. There was no driving around for an hour looking for a spot like there is every time we go to DC on a weekend. Our guidebook recommends not parking on the street, but we carried our valuables and covered what we left in the car with a blanket. Supposedly, whenever you park a kid is supposed to pop up out of the street and offer to watch your car for a few centavos. But that didn't happen.

Then, the long day of carrying began. The market stretched up and down just about every street in town, but from the start, Jonah wasn't interested. Though, he did perk up for a while (i.e., he walked) when we brought him a hand-made, painted, sheep-skin drum. And once Maya got the few things she had her heart set on (a shirt, some dolls, jewelry) she wasn't interested either. So, after we ate lunch, which was a tilapia fish fried right there in front of us and served with a couple of potatoes (cost $1.50 to $2.00, depending on the size of the fish) Opa and I set off to find a hotel with the kids, and Rebecca and PoPo set out to do some hard core shopping.

The hotel we finally settled on was called Hostal Aya Huma, in the town of Peguche. Peguche is a few kilometers north of Otavalo, and is famous for this sacred waterfall that we visited on Sunday. It is walking distance from the Hostal Aya Huma, if you don't have kids. Opa and I tried to get there with Maya and Jonah, but after getting about halfway, we decided to turn back. We had to bribe Maya and Jonah with ice cream so they would actually walk home, instead of demanding to be carried. Our arms and backs hadn't yet recovered from the few hours we spent earlier in the day carrying them around the market.

The waterfall is the spot of ritual bathing for certain festivals celebrating the summer solstice. I think ritual bathing means skinny dipping in Spanish. On our way up the trail to the falls, we saw some American college girls in bikinis coming back from their own brand of ritual bathing. I figure that probably tops what we'd see at the festivals, so this was probably our one and only visit to the falls. Though, there were some pretty, peaceful-looking campgrounds on the way out to the falls that we would have to be crazy to consider trying with Maya and Jonah. But, we sometimes get a bit zany, so who knows.

The Hostal Aya Huma was pretty cool. My rudimentary Spanish managed to secure us two rooms (one for Rebecca/me, one for Opa/PoPo) each with private bath and double bed. We drew straws for the kids and Rebecca and I ended up with Maya between us all night. It brought Rebecca and I back to the old days, when it was only Maya between us in bed for nearly three years, instead of both Maya and Jonah. I have to say, she's not as restless a sleeper as she used to be.

The hotel rooms were set overlooking this lush river bank, giving it a jungle feel. There were some short trails on the hotel grounds that we walked that the kids enjoyed. I told them we were hiking in the hopes that in the future, it would stir some interest in that past time for them. So far in my family-life, whenever I say "Who wants to go for a hike?", no one answers. Not even Rebecca.

On Sunday morning, after our visit to the falls, we hung around and ate empanadas con queso (with sugar sprinkled on top, so the kids couldn't get enough) before heading to the leather- making village of Cotacachi. In Cotocachi, I finally brought something that is made in Ecuador besides beer - a leather change purse. I also brought a wallet because the one I have had for the last - decade? - is finally starting to tear at the seams. Rebecca and PoPo, not sated from their few hours alone in the Otavalo market, were really lathering at the mouth to hit the leather shops for boots, purses, bags, jackets, pants, etc., but the dang kids were hungry and tired.

For the past few months Rebecca has been getting this online newsletter from a couple that lives in Ecuador. I can't find the link right now, but check back in a day or two if interested. I'm sure Rebecca will link it. She is always drooling over the properties they list for sale, the lifestyle, the food, the romance, etc., etc. The hotel and restaurant the couple owns - called Le Meson de Flores (the House of Flowers) is in Cotacachi. So, she was psyched for us to eat there.

I had some qualms about taking our kids into a fancy restaurant, especially when they are tired and hungry, but it turned out okay. The restaurant wasn't that fancy, it was nearly empty, and hotel itself was pretty. Ten or fifteen second floor rooms (with balconies) set around an open courtyard. Whenever Rebecca and I talk about having our own place built, right after we discuss the wet bar, we talk about having an open courtyard. The kids had fun exploring the rooms and wrap-around balconies while we waited for our food. And, when the food came, I think they actually ate some of it. Incidentally, Opa had pigs feet soup to start. I forgot to ask him how it was, but I did notice that he left half a bowl.

After we ate, we left for Quito. Rebecca and PoPo were disappointed they didn't get to spend more money shopping, but I wasn't feeling that great and wanted to get home. So, you see, we don't always do things as dictated by our small flock (Maya and Jonah). Sometimes the sheepherder gets to decide.

Today (Monday) was a pretty busy day, too. It was Maya and Jonah's first day at school - which went pretty well. My in-laws and I sorted out (for the most part) our respective Spanish language schools. And the best news of all - my in-laws are probably moving out on Thursday! Hahahahaha. I'm only kidding. It's a shame they are moving to their own place (I think they read this blog - not getting enough of me in person on a daily basis). Seriously, my mother in law cooks and whenever Jonah has to poop, he wants Opa to sit in the stinky bathroom with him. So, we are going to be missing them a lot when they move five or eight Ecovia stops south of here. I guess we'll see them though. They don't know anyone else in town.

The Last 3 Weeks in Review

2008-06-09T08:05:00.000-07:00

We´ve finally figured out a way to get our pictures into cyberspace, so here´s a pictoral post. (By Rebecca).

At the Parque Carolina

In the science museum. A real stuffed tiger and...

a real stuffed bear.

Playground pictures

The slide that had a hole in it the day before, but to our surprise was fixed when we went back.

The soft landing at the bottom of the slides

Crossing the street in front of our apartment complex.

Walking home from the pool.

A Sunday in the Plaza Grande, the central square in the Colonial section of Quito. Very quaint and busy on the weekends, with tourists and locals out for a stroll.

Jonah playing in the fountain...

...where the shoeshine boys wash their hands after a job.

Maya was quite shocked to see kids her age working at jobs - shining shoes, selling gum, selling newspapers. She kept asking me why they were working. On the bus ride home, we saw a girl about 7 or 8 years old standing in the road selling newspapers to people stopped at the traffic light. In a shocked voice Maya asked me, ¨Mommy, why is that girl in the street by herself?!!¨ Again, I tried to explain that some kids have to work.

Riding the TeleferiQo

The cable car that goes to the top of the volcano overlooking Quito.

The view from the top of Volcano Pichincha, looking down over the sprawl of Quito.

Our first weekend outside of Quito.

Our ¨rental¨car.

It´s not the easiest thing to drive in Quito, as you can see by the stress in Paul´s body.

Though we brought our heavy duty carseats along, the kids haven´t been using them. This 20 year old car doesn´t even have seatbelts in the back, so we had free-range kids on the ride. They love it, but it drives me incredibly crazy. It sort of reminds me of car trips when I was a kid and my brother and I sprawled out all over the back of the station wagon.

At the Otavalo market this past weekend. This is the largest market in Ecuador and purportedly in all of South America. It was pretty overwhelming.

Maya enjoyed looking at the stalls. We went to about 8 different vendors before she settled on this hand-embroidered shirt (in pink, of course).

Paul´s first market purchase.

There was more than just handicrafts and beer on offer.

A bucket of chicken anyone?

Spices to go with that chicken.

Dad got a Panama Hat, which are actually made in Ecuador.

And Maya and Jonah got carried.

Pre-Colombian figures outside of our hotel.

And the ¨green roof¨of the hotel.

The kids dancing at the restaurant.

Our romantic dinner.

A Picture of a Waterfall

2008-06-08T19:03:00.000-07:00

Here is a poem I wrote:

A Picture of a Waterfall

To get to the waterfall
we follow train tracks, one rail
mostly buried in the dusty dirt,
rolled out like a red carpet. The long grasses that line either side
waving at us in the late afternoon.

We come upon a man working with cement while his child plays in the yard
with a plastic pedal toy
that is missing the front wheel.

We pause and exchange pleasantries as much as our foreignness
will allow us. Through gestures the man invites us into the yard,
down a narrow path between his house and the structure for which
he is building a wall, through a door, and into a large room.

There is a weaving loom in the room, and the man
bids his wife from the house to show us a hammock she has made.

The hammock looks the same as others we have seen in this strange town, Peguche, as do the man, the woman and the child.

After some moments of examining the loom, the room and its contents, we say goodbye and continue along the exposed rail, past two pigs
who are tied to a stake in the ground as if they were dogs,
to a cobblestone road.

We turn up the steep road and pass an old woman sitting in the grass. She is shoeless, but has a stick with her. Secured to the stick at one end is a rope. At the other end of the rope is a knot, with another knot six inches up from the first. Behind the old woman, on a hill, and in the scrub brush, a flock of sheep graze.

The feet and underbodies of the sheep are caked in dried mud. Clumps of the muddied fur dangle from them as if it were a style.

Because we have two young children, we pause, sit down in the grass. The old woman rises, puts her weathered, shoeless feet on the cobblestones, and walks past us and fifteen yards up the road, where she sits back down in the grass.

While the children eat a tangerine we brought earlier that day at the market, the sheep collectively decide that the grass on the other side of the road needs nibbling.

When the old woman notices, she rushes down the road, not quite running, yelling, swinging the switch fiercely again and again with a strength you would not believe she had, and herds the sheep back to the hill, over it, and out of sight.

With this chore completed, she comes to us speaking words we do not know, but in a language even my daughter, who is five, understands. We give her a tangerine, the largest one left, and she clasps both hands around it, raises it in front of her chin, as if drawing attention to the few gnarled stumps remaining in her mouth, bows to us, and retreats back up the raod to a spot in the grass.

We can see her eating the tangerine as we turn back down the cobblestones and to the train tracks, having decided the children are too hungry and tired to continue to the waterfall.

The next morning, after breakfast, we drive along the tracks. The man has completed the wall he was building. We drive up the cobblestone road, past our memory of the old woman and her sheep, and park outside the entrance to the waterfall.

There is a short trail that winds up the river to the falls. We bring our camera
so we can take pictures.

Not What You Would Expect

2008-06-07T04:25:00.000-07:00

Well, our country experiment failed before it ever got started. After all the hard work that Paul and Sylvia put in to finding us a place, working things out with our prospective landlord, pulling strings at the Pachamama school to get Maya and Jonah admitted at the end of the school year, driving us back and forth from Tumbaco and Quito, Rebecca and I made a last minute decision that we aren't going to move to Tumbaco. What flakes!

But, it turns out that we agree more with our American friend who suggested we live in the city. This is the real Ecuador experience, baby! Tumbaco is a beautiful barrio (actually, the neighborhood Paul and Sylvia live in is a beautiful place. Tumbaco is more of a place you need to pass through to get to a beautiful place), and it would be our first choice of a place to live if we actually lived in Ecuador. But, for a few month visit, we felt like the city was a better fit for us.

By moving to Tumbaco, we were giving up too many of the conveniences that the city has to offer. I've mentioned the fruteria and grocery that are walking distance. The public transportation here is easily accessible and cheap. The language schools that Opa and I want to enroll in are in Quito. In case our mop or broom breaks, PoPo can just walk down to the street and buy a new one (we saw a guy walking the streets with brooms and mops on his back - reminiscent of my younger days when the vacuum salesmen used to knock at our door and demonstrate his products. Does that still happen?)

(Column Intermission I. I was also solicited on the street yesterday by a woman selling eggs. She had a basket of eggs and offered me 20 for a negotiable price. Since I was not in a situation to transport 20 eggs in a plastic bag back to my apartment immediately, I had to decline. Better she had been selling beer.)

And, not that money was the deciding factor, but living in Tumbaco was going to be about three times more expensive than living in the city. Which seems a bit backward to me. Isn't living in the city supposed to be more expensive than living in the country? Not here.

The rent of the house was double the rent of the apartment. We would have needed to rent a car because, essentially, nothing was walking distance. The cheapest car rental we found was $1,000 per month. Yes, $1,000 per month, and that is not to rent a Lincoln Town Car. Pachamama was a hundred bucks more per kid. So, it added up. Plus, Rebecca's commute would have at least doubled.

I had seen the house earlier in the week and it looked just about ready to move in. So, Rebecca and I had discussed spending the night on Thursday at the house and bringing the kids to Pachamama on Friday. When Vinicio's son, Danny, who speaks English, called me on Wednesday while I was on the slopes of Pichincha, he told me the place was ready and Vinicio wanted us to sign some papers and leave a deposit. We arranged to do this on Thursday night at the house. Perfect.

So, Thursday, my in-laws and I spent all morning packing our remaining bags, emptying the cupboards and the refrigerator, gathering up the kids' marbles that are all over the place, etc. etc. We had a lot of stuff. Then we hauled it all to the street, flagged a taxi, and negotiated a price to drive down there (you should have seen the dollar signs in the driver's eyes when he pulled over and realized we needed to get all our bags and ourselves into his cab and drive for 30 minutes). It ended up costing $13, by far our most expensive cab ride.

But, when we got to the house, the construction dust that lined everything had not been cleaned. There was no hot water. There was no mattress in the master bedroom. We couldn't put our stuff away. This turned out to be lucky, because after my in-laws and I discussed what we would all do all day in this oasis of country-living, we decided it wasn't for us. Rebecca and I had previously spent a few hours discussing the pros and cons. I called Rebecca at work and she basically told me to make a decision. So I did. I feel like if I really wanted us to live there, I wouldn't have had such mixed feelings. I guess I'm not tired yet of the dog shit, glass, and smog. Probably next week I will be.

Rebecca then had to call Vinicio (the house owner) and tell him we decided not to rent his house. He said okay. Just like that. He was a bit of an asshole to us through the whole process (not a deciding factor in us not staying in his house, but I feel like I needed to say it). He was probably glad to be rid of us demanding Americans.

The harder part was telling Paul and Sylvia. They were understanding. My biggest regret about not living in Tumbaco is that we won't develop as close a relationship with them as we would have. They are truly, amazing, talented, humble people who offer a lot in the way of friends. Hopefully, we can establish some sort of relationship with them that is not based on them doing things for us.

But, the final thing they did for us was call us some taxis to get all our stuff out of the house and back to our apartment. While we were waiting for the taxis, Paul was playing the piano (some Mariah Carey and Bryan Adams), Maya was running around their house with their youngest daughter, Elisa, and Jonah was playing basketball with a random ball and a random hoop. Not exactly the type of situation you want to drive away from.

It took three taxis to get all our bags and ourselves back to Quito. This supplanted our previous taxi ride to Tumbaco as the most expensive cab ride we have taken.

So, we are back in our apartment. My in-laws spent part of yesterday (Friday) looking around for a place to live for the next eight weeks and found something that they like. They make a final decision on Monday. Carmen called and let us know that we could use her extra car for weekend or day trips at a rate of $30 a day. So, today, we are going to a town called Otavalo, which has a large Saturday market of indigenous crafts and is situated in a beautiful valley.

Also yesterday morning (Friday), Rebecca and I took the kids to the school that Jonah barfed at and arranged for Maya to start full-time on Monday and for Jonah to attend M/W/F. To seal the deal, the school celebrated two students' birthday parties yesterday. So Maya and Jonah got to eat TWO cups of ice cream. They love that school!

After Maya and Jonah ate ice cream, I was able to leave them alone at the school for about 45 minutes with no phone call from the teacher asking me to come and get them. Before the ice cream, they had been rather clingy. Is there anything that ice cream can't fix?

So, if you read tea leaves, it seems like they are lined up for us.