My friends Colin and Lori from Ohio just spent a bit more than a week here, we started out with 4 days in the Sierra highlands hiking Laguna Quilotoa, and then spent a few days in El Oriente, enjoying the heat and the humidity. While we were having a beer in Misahuali we were joined by a few of the monkeys who wander around the town square. I will post more about the trip later, there are lots of photos at the flickr link.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Ya mismo
¨Ya mismo¨ is a term heard several times every day in Ecuador, and it more or less means ¨soon¨. In reality, though, it means maybe, or never, or be patient, or whenever. You will hear this term frequently if you schedule a meeting, let´s say with an official from the municipality or provincia where you are working, at 10 AM, or any time, for that matter. You will show up at the agreed upon time, and 15 minutes later will remind someone in the office (or wherever you may be) about the meeting. ¨Ya mismo!¨ they will say, confidently and cheerfully. Of course, you do not know if in this instance ¨ya mismo¨means 5 minutes, 5 hours, or 5 weeks, and neither does the person proclaiming it. So sometimes your contact will show up, soon, and you will have your meeting. Other times you will wait, an hour, two, or three or more, and eventually head home, muttering nasty things about ¨ÿa mismo¨.
I mention ¨ÿa mismo¨ because that´s what I keep telling myself when I think about making posts to the blog - coupled with the fact that time just absolutely flies by, I end up with almost 2 months since my last post. What follows is a collection of rambling observations made here and there.
The 2 or 3 of you who check this blog may notice a lack of references to Peace Corps; I am finding that one of the great things about PC is, that once we are done with training, and we are out in our sites and in the real world, Peace Corps becomes just background noise - it´s always there, but very subtly. If I need something from PC, tech or language training, or help with minor or major problems, then there they are - sometimes able to help, sometimes not. But in day to day life, I am just ¨Royer¨, or ¨meester¨ an ¨agronomo de los Estados Unidos¨. I, for one, like the autonomy.
--------------
Ecuador is at least 3 different countries - the coast, the sierras, and the oriente. Within these 3 regions exists hundreds, or thousands, of other countries, places isolated by language, distance, lack of education,and culture. My friends here on the farm, Gilberto y Susanna, know nothing of Ecuador apart from this region, where they were born and have lived their lives. When I travel, for work or pleasure, and mention to them where I am off to, Mindo, or Vilcabamba, or Nanegualita or Los Bancos, they know nothing of these places. They are as inconceivable as London, or Prague, or Perth. I have 2 maps hanging in my room, one of Ecuador and another of the world. From time to time we will all gather ´round the maps and have a look - all are astounded by the size of the continents, and even more so by the size of Ecuador. ¨Muy pequeño!¨ is the common exclamation, followed by the unsettling realization that Brazil, the States, and Europa are ¨muy grande¨. These represent impossible to imagine worlds of wealth, leisure, and ¨chicas in bikinis¨.
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I have been doing some exploring lately (being wealthy, relatively speaking, and with leisure time - meaning I do not work 12 hours a day 7 days a week). I hop on buses with placards in the windshield promising ¨Selva Alegre¨, or ¨Rio Verde¨, ¨La Esperanza¨or ¨Pimampiro¨. Though the distances involved are usually short, as the crow flies, some of these trips are agonizingly difficult due to the mountains and the road conditions. At times, realizing that to reach my mystery destination will end up taking the entire day, I jump off a bus and start walking home, hoping to catch a returning bus or friendly camionetta.
Even now, in 2007, the difficulty in getting to and from one place or another in Ecuador is hard to fathom. Villages that are 1o miles distant as the crow flies are often reached only after an hour or much more of torturous roads interrupted by landslides, washouts, and cattle drives From time to time when 2 vehicles encounter one another, (and have avoided a head on collision and the 600 ft. plunge down the valley), the uphill heading vehicle will have to spend 5 - 20 minutes backing up to find a spot wide enough to accomodate the passing width of the downhill headed vehicle - usually another bus or an oveloaded (with people, with cattle, with sheep, or any combination) truck or wagon. The whole operation becomes impossibly complicated when a third, or fourth, vehicle enters the picture. Most of the time the thing is settled without mishap or fatalities - Ecuadorean drivers, though impatient and rude, are incredibly skillfull and inventive. I have found the best way to deal with the stress of a bus trip is to take a nice long nap, with fingers crossed.
I mention ¨ÿa mismo¨ because that´s what I keep telling myself when I think about making posts to the blog - coupled with the fact that time just absolutely flies by, I end up with almost 2 months since my last post. What follows is a collection of rambling observations made here and there.
The 2 or 3 of you who check this blog may notice a lack of references to Peace Corps; I am finding that one of the great things about PC is, that once we are done with training, and we are out in our sites and in the real world, Peace Corps becomes just background noise - it´s always there, but very subtly. If I need something from PC, tech or language training, or help with minor or major problems, then there they are - sometimes able to help, sometimes not. But in day to day life, I am just ¨Royer¨, or ¨meester¨ an ¨agronomo de los Estados Unidos¨. I, for one, like the autonomy.
--------------
Ecuador is at least 3 different countries - the coast, the sierras, and the oriente. Within these 3 regions exists hundreds, or thousands, of other countries, places isolated by language, distance, lack of education,and culture. My friends here on the farm, Gilberto y Susanna, know nothing of Ecuador apart from this region, where they were born and have lived their lives. When I travel, for work or pleasure, and mention to them where I am off to, Mindo, or Vilcabamba, or Nanegualita or Los Bancos, they know nothing of these places. They are as inconceivable as London, or Prague, or Perth. I have 2 maps hanging in my room, one of Ecuador and another of the world. From time to time we will all gather ´round the maps and have a look - all are astounded by the size of the continents, and even more so by the size of Ecuador. ¨Muy pequeño!¨ is the common exclamation, followed by the unsettling realization that Brazil, the States, and Europa are ¨muy grande¨. These represent impossible to imagine worlds of wealth, leisure, and ¨chicas in bikinis¨.
------
I have been doing some exploring lately (being wealthy, relatively speaking, and with leisure time - meaning I do not work 12 hours a day 7 days a week). I hop on buses with placards in the windshield promising ¨Selva Alegre¨, or ¨Rio Verde¨, ¨La Esperanza¨or ¨Pimampiro¨. Though the distances involved are usually short, as the crow flies, some of these trips are agonizingly difficult due to the mountains and the road conditions. At times, realizing that to reach my mystery destination will end up taking the entire day, I jump off a bus and start walking home, hoping to catch a returning bus or friendly camionetta.
Even now, in 2007, the difficulty in getting to and from one place or another in Ecuador is hard to fathom. Villages that are 1o miles distant as the crow flies are often reached only after an hour or much more of torturous roads interrupted by landslides, washouts, and cattle drives From time to time when 2 vehicles encounter one another, (and have avoided a head on collision and the 600 ft. plunge down the valley), the uphill heading vehicle will have to spend 5 - 20 minutes backing up to find a spot wide enough to accomodate the passing width of the downhill headed vehicle - usually another bus or an oveloaded (with people, with cattle, with sheep, or any combination) truck or wagon. The whole operation becomes impossibly complicated when a third, or fourth, vehicle enters the picture. Most of the time the thing is settled without mishap or fatalities - Ecuadorean drivers, though impatient and rude, are incredibly skillfull and inventive. I have found the best way to deal with the stress of a bus trip is to take a nice long nap, with fingers crossed.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Lagunas Mojanda
I´ve been trying to get to Lagunas Mojandas since March, and it was worth the wait. A nice hostal called La Luna is nearby, and a few of us PC types went up for the night, and then a day of hiking. Some more photos at flickr link
The Beer Post
After months of teasers, this is sure to be a letdown! But it´s been fun doing the legwork, I assure you. ´First, photo credits- the photo is by Maria Grillo, Omnibus 97, ripped from Chrystal Smiths laptop and used here shamelessly. The subject is Mo, caught in a quiet moment during our totally against the rules debauch in Cungahua a few months ago and I think it is one of the best Peace Corps/beer photos(there are millions) in human history.
Pilsener - it´s not a type of beer, it´s a brand. There are others, Club(pr.¨cloob¨), Club Verde, Brahma, Clausen, Dorada,several ¨lites¨(not reviewed). There is supposedly a brand called Biela, but I have yet to see it. There are microbreweries in Quito, I have been to only one - and the beer was undrinkable - overcarbonated and way too fruity. According to Quito veterans, there are very good microbreweries in Quito - including a place called Turtles Head, maybe somewhere down the line I´ll get to try them.
Meanwhile, we´re focusing on good, cheap, regular beer. And that´s what Ecuadorean beer is all about. Pilsener is without a doubt the king of beers here - but Club Verde is a much better brew, using the word ¨¨better¨advisedly. Both are lightweights in terms of alcohol, about 4.5%, or a little less. Suits me fine, of course.
Here´s the clincher - a 12 ouncer of Club Verde, in a Euro style green bottle, goes for about 1.25 in the tiendas, if they have it. A big 22 ouncer of Pilsener (returnable) goes for .70 centavos. Prices somewhat higher in restaraunts. Most of us are going to go for the 22 everytime - the quality difference is simply not significant enough to do otherwise, especially when one is living on 7 dollars a day - or much less if you´re an average Ecuatoriano campesino. And when you´re thirsty, and when it´s cold, really cold - man the Pilsener is not too bad - I´d take it over Bud or Coors or Mich any day of the week . A little bit like High Life, if not a little better. Dorada, also by the same brewery, is the same price as Pilsener, but suffers a marked decline in quality.
Interesting to note that both Club and Pilsener are brewed by the same company, some folks think they are the same beers only presented differently. I don´t agree - especially regarding Club Verde. The regular Club is often sold in cans and is horrible, undrinkable except in cases of dire emergency.
One can find, in restaraunts and haciendas, imports like Heinekin and a few Canadian Brews, and in Riobamba we came across a German Deli that had a few Heffenweises and Oktoberfests - Spachen? I think they were. But the bottom line - if you´re going to drink beer in Ecuador, you are going to drink Pilsener. And you´re gonna like it.
My best beer drinking experience (with Ecuatorianos) to date was on Father´s Day. I had no idea what day it was, but at 11AM Gilberto was at my door with a cup of beer - ¨Feliz del dia de padre!¨ and all his brothers and in laws were downstairs coaxing me out of my morning reverie. I chucked my days plans out the window and joined them - we drank about 20 bottles of Pilsener between us, every single drop from a plastic cup passed continuously. I got out my guitar, we found some plastic buckets and cardboard boxes to bang on, and Gilberto´s brother played all afternoon. Around sundown one of the proud dads sent his 9 year old son to the tienda with a 10 spot to buy a bottle of whisky - at that point, I made my apologies and called it a night. Ecuatorianos handle their beer well - but put whisky and rum in them and you have no idea what could happen, except it probably won´t be good.
Well, now I´m thirsty, and I´m in Ibarra, and it´s close enough to dinner time to think about eating - some fried pig, with some llapingachos and mote, and a big cold Pilsener. Buen Provecho!
Pilsener - it´s not a type of beer, it´s a brand. There are others, Club(pr.¨cloob¨), Club Verde, Brahma, Clausen, Dorada,several ¨lites¨(not reviewed). There is supposedly a brand called Biela, but I have yet to see it. There are microbreweries in Quito, I have been to only one - and the beer was undrinkable - overcarbonated and way too fruity. According to Quito veterans, there are very good microbreweries in Quito - including a place called Turtles Head, maybe somewhere down the line I´ll get to try them.
Meanwhile, we´re focusing on good, cheap, regular beer. And that´s what Ecuadorean beer is all about. Pilsener is without a doubt the king of beers here - but Club Verde is a much better brew, using the word ¨¨better¨advisedly. Both are lightweights in terms of alcohol, about 4.5%, or a little less. Suits me fine, of course.
Here´s the clincher - a 12 ouncer of Club Verde, in a Euro style green bottle, goes for about 1.25 in the tiendas, if they have it. A big 22 ouncer of Pilsener (returnable) goes for .70 centavos. Prices somewhat higher in restaraunts. Most of us are going to go for the 22 everytime - the quality difference is simply not significant enough to do otherwise, especially when one is living on 7 dollars a day - or much less if you´re an average Ecuatoriano campesino. And when you´re thirsty, and when it´s cold, really cold - man the Pilsener is not too bad - I´d take it over Bud or Coors or Mich any day of the week . A little bit like High Life, if not a little better. Dorada, also by the same brewery, is the same price as Pilsener, but suffers a marked decline in quality.
Interesting to note that both Club and Pilsener are brewed by the same company, some folks think they are the same beers only presented differently. I don´t agree - especially regarding Club Verde. The regular Club is often sold in cans and is horrible, undrinkable except in cases of dire emergency.
One can find, in restaraunts and haciendas, imports like Heinekin and a few Canadian Brews, and in Riobamba we came across a German Deli that had a few Heffenweises and Oktoberfests - Spachen? I think they were. But the bottom line - if you´re going to drink beer in Ecuador, you are going to drink Pilsener. And you´re gonna like it.
My best beer drinking experience (with Ecuatorianos) to date was on Father´s Day. I had no idea what day it was, but at 11AM Gilberto was at my door with a cup of beer - ¨Feliz del dia de padre!¨ and all his brothers and in laws were downstairs coaxing me out of my morning reverie. I chucked my days plans out the window and joined them - we drank about 20 bottles of Pilsener between us, every single drop from a plastic cup passed continuously. I got out my guitar, we found some plastic buckets and cardboard boxes to bang on, and Gilberto´s brother played all afternoon. Around sundown one of the proud dads sent his 9 year old son to the tienda with a 10 spot to buy a bottle of whisky - at that point, I made my apologies and called it a night. Ecuatorianos handle their beer well - but put whisky and rum in them and you have no idea what could happen, except it probably won´t be good.
Well, now I´m thirsty, and I´m in Ibarra, and it´s close enough to dinner time to think about eating - some fried pig, with some llapingachos and mote, and a big cold Pilsener. Buen Provecho!
Saturday, June 23, 2007
what´s for dinner, ma? Cuyes!!
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)
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 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.
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