January, in photos

I'm fired up to share these photos with the readers of this blahgg. These are the visual counterparts to the stories I relayed in my last entry.  It should be noted that all of these images were captured by SuperRo Martin.  Thank you, Ro, for repeatedly risking the loss of your camera as you fearlessly assumed the roll of photographer on our adventures.

Chiva - Party bus.  Quito, January 6th.

Quilotoa crater.  January 9th.

Chandra and Ro in Banos, Volcan Tungurahua in the background.  January 12th. 
We wonder why we look like Muppets here. 

Rio Inchillagui, January 14th.  Matt and Anda and their ducky skillz.

Chandra on the Rio Inchillagui, January 14th. 

Chandra and Ro (world-class "safety" boaters).  Rio Jatunyacu, January 15th.
 International wads frolicking in the background.

Ro and the waterfall.  The access to this waterfall crosses Kichwa land.  We probably would never have seen it if we hadn't gone with the indiginous-owned raft company.  It reminded us of some hidden gem in the Grand Canyon.

Chandra and Diego on the Upper Misahualli, January 16th. 
My chosen route and orientation on this rapid did not end in victory. 

Diego on the Upper Misahualli, January 16th. 

Chandra on the riverside patio at our Tena "home."  January 16th.

Ro's subject here is perhaps the only human alive who can make a backwards pro-tec helmet look amazing.  This photo is, for lack of a better descriptor, incredible.  Ro's Lower Misahualli trip, January, sometime after I left Tena and she stayed to enjoy a week's worth of glory.



Highlights from the middle of January

Month #1 of Year #2011. 

Here are the best parts:

1. On the same night that I traveled to Quito to meet up with Rosada (from here on out to be refered to only as SuperRo, down for six weeks from California), Anne (fellow Fulbrighter) rented a chiva as the mobile venue for her January 6th birthday celebration.  [It should be noted that January 6th is also the day that one of my most favorite humans opened her sparkling yellow eyes to the world for the first time...at least I think they're yellow.]  For those who don't happen to reside in Ecuador, a chiva is a party bus.  I've ridden - and partied - on things that called themselves "party buses," but all those vehicles paled in comparison to the Quito chiva.  Anne, in her brilliance, suggested that we, as representatives of our country on "cultural exchange," had a responsibility to experience the culturally unique phenomenon of the chiva.  In brief: It has no seats, windows, or rules.  (Except for maybe the rule that prohibits climbing onto the roof, as tested by SuperRo.) It plays it's music way too loud, but it plays lots of Shakira.  Its operators stock it with Igloo coolers full of canelazo.  Its fog machine periodically spits clouds thick enough to choke an passenger caught off guard.  The chiva, as a participant in our cultural exchange, may well have taken more than offered. 

2. SuperRo and I took a much-needed Sunday trip to the highlands. We caught the early bus to Quilotoa and walked around the rim of the crater (a four-hour event), closing our day spent above 12,000' with pizza (of course).



With Ro at Quilotoa.



3. I canceled my classes on the Wednesday of that next week so that SuperRo and I could head east without the stress of hurried travel.  We spent Wednesday in Banos.  After weeks of bitter cold and consistent rain in the high Sierra, the sunshine and sticky heat in Banos was a welcome surprise.  We walked up, up, up until we achieved a spectacular panoramic view of the town, the Pastaza River, and Tunguruahua Volcano.  We drank homebrewed amber beers on the roof of our hotel and went soaking with the one-third of the country's population that night.  The next morning (after eating huevos rancheros and drinking real coffee!) we went to Tena.

4. In Tena, Matt Terry (of the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute) took me to visit a school in one of the nearby eastern Kichwa communities.  The primary objective of this trip to Tena was to meet with this school's administration to invite their participation in an arts-based technology project for which I have, in collaboration with Maria, a Quito-based Fulbrighter, been trying to garner interest and support.  By the time we arrived, the rectora had left for the evening.  We made an appointment for the following morning.  We spent the rest of that afternoon with Matt and his lovely ladyfriend, Andalucia, eating, talking, and hunting down boats to use for the weekend.

The following morning, Matt and I ventured out once again to the school.  The rectora's interest was limited.  My spirits plummeted.  Matt, as always, had solutions that I have yet to explore and insight that only someone intimately acquainted with the workings of Ecuadorian institutions can offer.  After a short debriefing and discussion, we went kayaking. 

The Rio Inchillagui is a class III creek.  It's small, fast, and technical with no real consequences for poor paddling.  Matt and Andalucia took a double ducky (which was at once hilarious and impressive; their tandem ducky skills are phenomenal) and SuperRo and I kayaked.  The Inchillagui flows out of the mountains and is filled with crystal-clear and shockingly warm water.  It eventually meets up with the Misahualli and gets bigger, colder, and dirtier.  It flows in between way too many unsightly gravel mines, ineffectual flood retaining walls, and rapidly eroding banks.  Floating this section with Matt was a little painful.  His knowledge of the destructive and seemingly thoughtless projects/developments in the Napo province is overwhelming and discouraging.  I will post photos of these projects when I can.  For now I only have the following videos:

Rain on the Inchillagui:

Construction of "the wall" on the Misahualli:

Ro and I were convinced (tempted by the offer of free lunch) to work as "safety boaters" for a raft trip (with an indigenous-owned company whose name we are still unsure of) on the Jatunyacu the next day.  We accompanied four boats and one fledgling 14 year-old kayaker (adorable Alvaro) on a mess of trip whose mishaps were only funny because the water was low and the wads were strong.  For our part, Ro and I did little to earn the laughable title of safety boaters.  Mostly we just ate the free lunch.

The next day we decided to kick it up a notch and headed with our friend Diego to the upper Misahualli.  We were warned that it was lacking one important element: water.  We decided to try it anyway.  This run would probably be fun with, as we decided, 50 to 100 more cfs.  It was, in the state we saw it, punishing, at least for this girl.  I will post photos when I can steal them from SuperRo.

5. My solo return to Latacunga was followed by busy days and nights.  The university is celebrating its anniversary and last week's schedule was strangely altered as a result.  Next week, too, student attendance will be "unpredictable," but the presentations, programs, and forums that have been organized in honor of the anniversary have been well-attended by students and staff alike.  I look forward to reporting (when I have more energy and available insight) on my perceptions of the Primer encuentro nacional al rescate de las lenguas ancenstrales (1st Annual National Gathering for the Rescue of Ancestral Languages).  The discussion of this event, my friends, warrants preparation in the form of a full night's sleep...

Aji!

Upon my return to this house on December 31, I was saddened to see that most of my plants had perished in my absence.  This (see photos below), however, was a very nice counter to the death of the plants.  My aji plant is producing beautiful (and very spicy!) peppers which I will soon consume with tremendous enthusiasm.  Small and tasty victory.

Burning 2010

Leaving Chicago on the 30th wasn't easy.  Had I not committed to spending New Year's Eve with my adopted family in Latacunga, I would have happily paid almost any change fee the airline imposed in order to stay a little longer.  But when I finally arrived home early yesterday afternoon, I was very happy I'd followed through with originally laid plans. 

I dropped off my bags and right away took a walk up to the Salto, the amazing outdoor market just up the street from my house.  The same lovely vendors are there day in and day out, and they have come to recognize me as something other than just a wide-eyed tourist.  Conversation and smiles certainly do mean a lot to me here, and I've finally found a place where I am guaranteed to find them without looking too hard.  The 25 cent avocados, 50 cent pineapples, and piles of herbs and flowers immediately palliated any sadness or loneliness brought about by my solo return to this place. 

Later that evening, around nine pm, I was invited by Paula and Rodrigo to take a walk through the city.  We snuck out before three year-old Ana Paula could know we were gone and then spent a fantastic couple of hours meandering through the streets of Latacunga. 



Viudas locas (crazy widows - men and boys dressed as women) set up roadblocks and demanded money from drivers in exchange for passage. 

Giant dolls whose moving arms prepared chugchucaras, the typical fried pork dish of Latacungan fame.

Ecuador maintains a tradition of constructing effigies to be burned at midnight on New Year's Eve.  These dolls may represent famous characters (such as President Rafael Correa, Buzz Lightyear, the or blue things from Avatar) or they may represent a family member or community leader.  For the nighttime hours leading up to midnight, the dolls are put on magnificent display on porches, sidewalks, and in storefronts.  Families and neighborhoods construct elaborate scenes that include the effigies, their testimonies (or wills), loud music, and myriad details that speak to tremendous collective creativity. 



A simple household display up the street from ours.



One of the more fantastic scenes in which massive mannequins represented each of the major towns in Cotopaxi province.



With Latacunga friends Mauricio, Rodrigo, and Paula.



In Plaza San Augustin, charismatic women fry delicious balls of maza (dough) to make bunuelos, tasty sweet things typical at Christmastime on the equator.

We returned to a house filled with brothers, sisters, cousins, and delicious food prepared by Marcia and Gaby, her youngest daughter.  After eating (and sharing conversation filled with inquiries about Alaska and discussion of the incomprehensible strangeness of vegetarianism), the extended family left and just the residents of this house remained.  At midnight, we took Rodrigo's homemade robots into the streets to be burned.  One robot represented Marcia's brother, Pato, and the other was meant to be me.  We arranged them so they looked to be engaged in robot battle (with swords and a small, green referee) and then set them on fire.  Looking up or down the street, we could see dozens of tiny fires ushering the effigies and all they represent out of the lives of the families, burning the ano viejo (the old year) and creating space for all the good that the new one promises to bring.  At midnight, hugs were exchanged (not kisses) and as the fire grew in size the family members took turns leaping over it.  A bottle of Boone's Farm was passed around but no one drank in excess.  And after all that remained of the robots (and of 2010) was embers, we returned to the living room where a family dance party was to ensue.  I, exhuasted from travel and insufficient sleep, snuck down to my apartment and went to bed.




Midnight hugs around a pile of burning robot carcass.

The Ecuadorians wish for three things each time a new year comes around: salud, dinero, y felicidad (health, wealth, and happiness).  That's not too much to hope for.  In fact, it seems pretty reasonable.  They also like to wear either red or yellow underwear as the old year makes room for the new.  These colors are said to bring the wearer love or money (they are equally enthusiastic about both options).  My hopes for you in 2011, friends and family, aren't so different than the common hopes of the Ecuadorians.  I might add, though, that the new year brings you more love than money, more hugs than you know what to do with, and renewed appreciation for your family, as well as for your own individual brilliance. 

This morning, as the family car's alarm sounds without any intervention from my sleepy upstairs neighbors, I am thinking of what each of my loved ones' robot-effigies will look like for next year's burning.  And I cannot wait to exchange hugs with the humans that inspire these robots at a midnight not so very far in the future.

Much love on this day with a remarkable set of defining numbers (1/1/11),

C. Brown