Last weekend the cooperativa toured a nice cuy (guinea pig)operation at hacienda santa ana. All these cute little animals are destined for dinner plates, where they are usually served whole, splayed out rather obscenely. The eyeballs and brains are particularly favored by many. I myself have not been able to jump on the cuy bandwagon, when cooked they appear to be greasy little rats. Give me a hunk of pork or cow any day of the week over cuy.
We also went to the Polylepis Lodge up near Columbia, in Carchi Province. Some spectacular scenery of the paramo and the small amount of polylepis forest remaining in the Andes is a surprise, to say the least, in that it is a boggy landscape more likely to be found in Nova Scotia. I have some pix posted at the flickr link.
There was a beautiful crescent moon last weekend, with the crescent at the bottom of the sphere - something I think we do not see in the states. Also seen, for the first time by me, was the Southern Cross constellation, I mean it when I say it was breathtaking.
At the lodge was a high school group of about 40 from the coast, and one of my ecuafriends introduced me as a famous american singer of cowboy songs. I could have killed him, and probably will someday, but for the moment I had no choice but to fake my way through the only 2 even remotely cowboy songs I know - fiddler a dram¨and ¨¨tennesee stud¨. Äfter both ¨songs¨ my audience erupted into enthusiastic cheering and calls for more - I was mortified and passed the guitar to a young man who spent the rest of the night playing beautiful south american folksongs and poptunes, which everyone knew and sang along to. His performance was far far superior to mine! A lovely evening, all in all. (Still researching the beer post, it´s a lot of work, let me tell you)
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Segundo
I know I promised an entry about beer - I'm still doing just a little more research. Instead, you get Segundo,and the entry below. He works 8 or 9 hours a day and earns 6 dollars - a day. He's 56 years old, been a campesino all his life. He's about 5'3", The strongest man I have ever known, the guy is a horse. Could outwork 50 the likes of me. I don't even try to keep up with him.
I tell him people earn 10 dollars an hour in the states, and he says, yeah, but what do you pay for rent and light and water? He's got no complaints.
I tell him people earn 10 dollars an hour in the states, and he says, yeah, but what do you pay for rent and light and water? He's got no complaints.
a day in the life
One of my jobs here is to meet on Friday afternoons with the couple who works here with me on the farm, to plan next weeks’ work and to discuss the situation in general. They are employed by the cooperative that owns this place and, with their 3 kids, have been here for 5 or 6 years. Although this farm is supposed to be a demonstration project (alternative crops, organic methods, IPM, etc.) neither Gilberto or Susanna seem to be interested in doing anything much differently than how they have always done it – which means throwing household trash out into the fields, burning plastic chemical bottles and grocery bags, piling manure from the cuyes far away from the gardens where it never gets used, and the like. Nevertheless, they are buena gente and lots of fun to be around.
Today, being Friday, we were to meet, but it is also the first of the month and both G. and S. were hot to run into town (.18 centavos by bus) to collect their monthly salary, so we agreed to meet tomorrow instead. G. receives around 160.00 monthly for his work on the farm, S. receives 60.00 monthly for her work with the cuyes. (Guinea pigs) Their housing, such as it is, is gratis and includes utilities which more often than not seem to work. As a comparison, my Peace Corps “stipend, not a salary” is 7.67 daily, or 230.00 mensual, and my housing (such as it is) is paid for as well. Anyway, for campesinos, their pay and housing perks are the talk of the barrio – most people here in the campo can only dream of a sweet deal like that.Today was also the day I aimed to begin a little tradition, hopefully to continue for the duration of my stay. First Friday of the month, I buy, or prepare, dinner for myself and the family, and then we play ping pong and listen to really loud bomba music. Since they were going to Ibarra, G. and S. suggested we try some comida from the restaurant where his sister works. 6 dinners, at 1.25 apiece, not bad. They were to return around six.
Meanwhile, I go upstairs to my cuartos to study Spanish, drink a little rum, and perhaps play some chess or scrabble on the computer a friend has loaned me. Ten minutes later, I hear a ruckus at the gate, and me and the kids walk up to check it out. A gigantic truck, with what looks to be 30 or 40 ton of chicken shit in the bed is trying to negotiate the sharp turn into the farm. He was supposed to be here about 8 hours ago, when there was a full workforce available to unload (dumptruck? Yeah, right) So we get him thru the gate, and with darkness coming fast me and the 2 boys guide him down the camino to the first offload where, using shovels and rakes, we dump about 1/3 of the load. On the way to the second offload we forget all about the irrigation ditch and the guy puts his right front tire into it. Our meager complement of 1 man and 2 boys was not enough to help the driver free his rig. I offered him my sympathies, and he set off on foot to walk the 45 minutes home. We will have to hire a tractor to come pull him out, probably at 7 AM tomorrow.
By now it’s fully dark, and a misty fog has crept in. Where are S. and G. with our dinners, we all wonder. Since it’s past 7 PM there are no more buses, so they will have to take a cab from Ibarra (2.00) and walk in from the main road, no fun in the dark, and S. in her town shoes. An hour later, with cold food, they arrive, S. a little bummed about her muddy shoes. We all cram into the front room of the family’s casa which has more furniture than space, including the biggest boombox I have ever seen. The eldest son accidentally opens the food container upside down and spills it all over the floor. He gets a swat on the ass from Gilberto, but the 3 dogs and the cat are in hog heaven. There are 11 billion flies in the room. Dinner is chuleta, a pork cutlet. I am wary of eating pork, since the PC nurses always tell us horrific stories of all the worms and parasites in undercooked pork – but damn, it’s always so good. There are side dishes as well – potatos (surprise) and mote, a kind of corn that is, well, kind of bland. There are 2 fundas, one is full of aji, a kind of salsa picante, and the other is mayonesa, which is really watery mayonnaise. It’s delicious, and really dresses up the mote. Since it’s a special occasion, Gilberto breaks out the chi-cha, which I suspect is leftover from the past Sunday’s confirmation fiesta. We are all starving, so we eat and drink mostly in silence, occassionally recounting the events of the day, and wondering how it will go tomorrow when we try to pull the truck out of the ditch.
Today, being Friday, we were to meet, but it is also the first of the month and both G. and S. were hot to run into town (.18 centavos by bus) to collect their monthly salary, so we agreed to meet tomorrow instead. G. receives around 160.00 monthly for his work on the farm, S. receives 60.00 monthly for her work with the cuyes. (Guinea pigs) Their housing, such as it is, is gratis and includes utilities which more often than not seem to work. As a comparison, my Peace Corps “stipend, not a salary” is 7.67 daily, or 230.00 mensual, and my housing (such as it is) is paid for as well. Anyway, for campesinos, their pay and housing perks are the talk of the barrio – most people here in the campo can only dream of a sweet deal like that.Today was also the day I aimed to begin a little tradition, hopefully to continue for the duration of my stay. First Friday of the month, I buy, or prepare, dinner for myself and the family, and then we play ping pong and listen to really loud bomba music. Since they were going to Ibarra, G. and S. suggested we try some comida from the restaurant where his sister works. 6 dinners, at 1.25 apiece, not bad. They were to return around six.
Meanwhile, I go upstairs to my cuartos to study Spanish, drink a little rum, and perhaps play some chess or scrabble on the computer a friend has loaned me. Ten minutes later, I hear a ruckus at the gate, and me and the kids walk up to check it out. A gigantic truck, with what looks to be 30 or 40 ton of chicken shit in the bed is trying to negotiate the sharp turn into the farm. He was supposed to be here about 8 hours ago, when there was a full workforce available to unload (dumptruck? Yeah, right) So we get him thru the gate, and with darkness coming fast me and the 2 boys guide him down the camino to the first offload where, using shovels and rakes, we dump about 1/3 of the load. On the way to the second offload we forget all about the irrigation ditch and the guy puts his right front tire into it. Our meager complement of 1 man and 2 boys was not enough to help the driver free his rig. I offered him my sympathies, and he set off on foot to walk the 45 minutes home. We will have to hire a tractor to come pull him out, probably at 7 AM tomorrow.
By now it’s fully dark, and a misty fog has crept in. Where are S. and G. with our dinners, we all wonder. Since it’s past 7 PM there are no more buses, so they will have to take a cab from Ibarra (2.00) and walk in from the main road, no fun in the dark, and S. in her town shoes. An hour later, with cold food, they arrive, S. a little bummed about her muddy shoes. We all cram into the front room of the family’s casa which has more furniture than space, including the biggest boombox I have ever seen. The eldest son accidentally opens the food container upside down and spills it all over the floor. He gets a swat on the ass from Gilberto, but the 3 dogs and the cat are in hog heaven. There are 11 billion flies in the room. Dinner is chuleta, a pork cutlet. I am wary of eating pork, since the PC nurses always tell us horrific stories of all the worms and parasites in undercooked pork – but damn, it’s always so good. There are side dishes as well – potatos (surprise) and mote, a kind of corn that is, well, kind of bland. There are 2 fundas, one is full of aji, a kind of salsa picante, and the other is mayonesa, which is really watery mayonnaise. It’s delicious, and really dresses up the mote. Since it’s a special occasion, Gilberto breaks out the chi-cha, which I suspect is leftover from the past Sunday’s confirmation fiesta. We are all starving, so we eat and drink mostly in silence, occassionally recounting the events of the day, and wondering how it will go tomorrow when we try to pull the truck out of the ditch.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
I keep reminding myself - tranquilo - no problema - relax. There is a way of being here that will be good for me to adapt to. And yes, I do feel pretty relaxed, and I certainly know that I am not here to save the world, as if I could. I will consider it a victory perhaps, to save myself. This past week has been one of incredible extremes - of course this country, this tiny nation, still forming in so many ways, is a place of extremes. There is a staggering amount of wealth, and an even greater amount of poverty. Sometimes it is impossible to tell one reality from another. Following an indigenous family down the street, wondering where they live, what they do, how they survive, admiring their beautiful clothing and their strange little hats with peacock feathers tucked in the bands and strings of gold and silver beads and everything else that is mysterious and ancient about them; then watch, awestruck, as they load themselves into a 4WD SUV, nearly brand new and certainly 30 thousand dollars worth of automobile. So what does that mean? Yes that I´m quick to peg a situation, but maybe also that all bets are off, maybe it means that nothing, absolutely nothing, is as it appears.
Although my Spanish is steadily improving, there is a constant disconnect between what I thought I understood and what was really meant. I talked to an Ecuadorean friend and she said that even Ecuapeople have that same problem, the same disconnects. She said it teaches one to be very patient - and indeed in this country, people are very very patient. When´s the last time anyone reading this waited in line at the bank for 2 hours, or more? Sat on a bus going no where for 30 minutes while the driver jumps off to go talk with an old amigo for a little while? Tranquilo Tranquilo Tranquilo.
Spent the night in Quito last Thursday, went out to dinner with friends from PC and some of us went to a great jazz club called El Pobre Diablo and heard some excellent music. It kind of felt like being in Manhattan, exposed beams and brick, framed posters on the wall, a few berets and ponytails here and there. It was fun.
Also fun is my work on the farm. I have negotiated about a half acre on which I can experiment with organic methods as well as non traditional crops. I have started compost piles and the construction of planting beds. Cleaned out the greenhouse and have started basil, peppers, marigolds, and lettuce. Although there are succesful organic farms in Ecuador, none of them seem to be here in the northern sector. My campañeros scoff at my chances of success, and I´m not even sure what that word means within the context of my Peace Corps experience. In my own mind, I will consider my venture successful if a few people get the idea that soil health is a rather important part of good farming.
The weather has been beautiful, last night was clear and I saw loads of stars which so far has been a rare experience, since most nights seem to be rather cloudy. Next time I post I hope to have very important information regarding the price of beer here, complete with photos and taste tests. Ciao
Although my Spanish is steadily improving, there is a constant disconnect between what I thought I understood and what was really meant. I talked to an Ecuadorean friend and she said that even Ecuapeople have that same problem, the same disconnects. She said it teaches one to be very patient - and indeed in this country, people are very very patient. When´s the last time anyone reading this waited in line at the bank for 2 hours, or more? Sat on a bus going no where for 30 minutes while the driver jumps off to go talk with an old amigo for a little while? Tranquilo Tranquilo Tranquilo.
Spent the night in Quito last Thursday, went out to dinner with friends from PC and some of us went to a great jazz club called El Pobre Diablo and heard some excellent music. It kind of felt like being in Manhattan, exposed beams and brick, framed posters on the wall, a few berets and ponytails here and there. It was fun.
Also fun is my work on the farm. I have negotiated about a half acre on which I can experiment with organic methods as well as non traditional crops. I have started compost piles and the construction of planting beds. Cleaned out the greenhouse and have started basil, peppers, marigolds, and lettuce. Although there are succesful organic farms in Ecuador, none of them seem to be here in the northern sector. My campañeros scoff at my chances of success, and I´m not even sure what that word means within the context of my Peace Corps experience. In my own mind, I will consider my venture successful if a few people get the idea that soil health is a rather important part of good farming.
The weather has been beautiful, last night was clear and I saw loads of stars which so far has been a rare experience, since most nights seem to be rather cloudy. Next time I post I hope to have very important information regarding the price of beer here, complete with photos and taste tests. Ciao
Monday, May 7, 2007
how wrong could I be?
Re: Candyman, as noted in entry below. I just found out, using the amazing resources of the web, that this is a version of Candyman written by Christine Aguilera and friends. Shows ya what I know.
view from the farm in Ibarra
OK it's been awhile, and I have to admit I'm finding that keeping a blog updated and even remotely interesting is hard work. That said, I'll try and bring things up to date just a tad. I've been on the farm at El Milagro for almost 3 weeks now. I am settling in, bought a mattress, some planks of wood to build some furniture, and some cooking supplies (tank of gas, frying pan, can of tuna, spices) The farm provides me with fresh veggies and hens eggs. I walk down to the tienda now and again for a cold beer, and I bought a $4.80 bottle of Old Times Whiskey to help make sleep come a little easier. It's actually not too bad. I have my own quarters, but I live within earshot of the family who works the farm. Gilberto, Sussana, Jessica (11), Jefferson(9), and Jonathon(8). Everyone helps me with my Spanish, and the kids are always trying to puzzle out English.
Last week a family walked onto the farm looking for the new gringo. They had an English language photocopy of "Candyman" the nasty, double entendre filled old blues tune by Mississippi John Hurt or some such person.. / The daughter's high school class was going to perform the song, in English, at an upcoming school fair, and they needed help with phonetic pronunciations of all the lyrics. So I walked up the road to their house, and spent the next 2 hours teaching pronunciation of phrases like "he gets me so hot, makes my panties drop" or " gets me so hot, makes my cherry pop" I did not have the will, or the language skills to make any mention of the horny lyrics; but I feel like I could go home today having accomplished in full the "cultural exchange" portion of Peace Corps mission here. Next week is the performance, I hope to go.
Yesterday, Sunday, I was out preparing the first of what I hope will be many raised beds for planting. Shirt off and shorts, trying to shed a little whiteness, I was working and sweating, listening to the amplified church service out of El Milagro. A fine womans voice and some acoustic guitar, singing praises, it was certainly mellow. The service wrapped up, and within moments the speakers were blaring out the "all cumbia, all the time" station. It nearly knocked my socks off when I heard the Cumbia version of "California Dreamin" by the Mamas and Papas. I am not kidding. One of the households up the hill then started blasting Bomba music from the opposite direction, man some of these folks have some pretty powerful stereo equipment. Between the barking dogs and the radios, Ecuador can sometimes be a hard place to find some peace and quiet.
Last week a family walked onto the farm looking for the new gringo. They had an English language photocopy of "Candyman" the nasty, double entendre filled old blues tune by Mississippi John Hurt or some such person.. / The daughter's high school class was going to perform the song, in English, at an upcoming school fair, and they needed help with phonetic pronunciations of all the lyrics. So I walked up the road to their house, and spent the next 2 hours teaching pronunciation of phrases like "he gets me so hot, makes my panties drop" or " gets me so hot, makes my cherry pop" I did not have the will, or the language skills to make any mention of the horny lyrics; but I feel like I could go home today having accomplished in full the "cultural exchange" portion of Peace Corps mission here. Next week is the performance, I hope to go.
Yesterday, Sunday, I was out preparing the first of what I hope will be many raised beds for planting. Shirt off and shorts, trying to shed a little whiteness, I was working and sweating, listening to the amplified church service out of El Milagro. A fine womans voice and some acoustic guitar, singing praises, it was certainly mellow. The service wrapped up, and within moments the speakers were blaring out the "all cumbia, all the time" station. It nearly knocked my socks off when I heard the Cumbia version of "California Dreamin" by the Mamas and Papas. I am not kidding. One of the households up the hill then started blasting Bomba music from the opposite direction, man some of these folks have some pretty powerful stereo equipment. Between the barking dogs and the radios, Ecuador can sometimes be a hard place to find some peace and quiet.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
San Bernardo kids
Tomorrow´s Good Friday and the last day of the tech trip - we,ve seen alot and learned alot. There have been a few minor eruptions of vulcan Tungurahua which dusted Riobamba with ash and sent many of the locals searching for dust masks. We´visited some incredible farms and met whole village fulls of great people - especially in San Bernardo which is as close to paradise as I´ll ever get. We´ve learned some of the troubles of the marketing system here, and we´ve also learned of the endless capabilities and potentials of the land and the people. From researchers in Riobamba experimenting with beneficial soil bacterias and fungi to the hillside farmer creating a microclimate at 10000 feet to grow tropical fruits and vegetables it´s been an inspirational and rewarding 10 days.
I´m posting more photos to Flickr.com, and hope to add more about the trip in the next couple of days. Ciao.
I´m posting more photos to Flickr.com, and hope to add more about the trip in the next couple of days. Ciao.
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