Who am I,
To say what the future holds?
For way to way, day to day,
Time a rolled up cloth unfolds,
Only at the pace I go so,
Foot before Foot before Foot.
Who am I,
To say what lies in the past,
For memory my fickle friend,
Prefers to change and to ammend,
Blur and cover, cloud and smother,
So Foot, before Foot, before Foot.
I find my self by a sunny river in Cuenca in the southern highlands of Ecuador. A cleaner, calmer, quieter Quito, it feels more like Europe than Sur America, Stone facades, red tile roofs and brick houses line cobbled and paved streets. Declared a world heritage sight of historical importance, Cuenca is truely beautiful. The colonial influence is strongly felt in the people too, whiter, taller and more green and blue eyes. Some absoloute heart breakers here. The rain has cleared and to the sound of tumbling water, birdsong and the quiet hum of traffic I find my self reflecting on the past few weeks which have marked the start of my travels proper. The pattern of the days had become firmly established in Quito. Wake. Work with the kids. Return home. While ready to leave this life behind, it was hard walking into the unknown, leaving familiar streets and people. The first step has proved to have been the hardest though, and now I love the freedom of the road.
The night I left was pretty horrible, we recieved a phone call saying that one of my family´s cousins had been shot and was in hospital. Up until 3 in the morning trying to comfort a distraught Evelyn, waiting for news as parts of the story were revealed. Turns out 3 guys had gone into his house with guns drawn, and made the rest of the family get down on thier knees, He came in and tried to fight them, and was shot multiple times before the thiefs ran off with their cell phones. Only days before we had been playing soccer in the park, and now we were waiting to hear if he would live or die. When we finally heard he was stable, emotionalled drained, we went to bed.
So it was under this dark cloud that I left Quito for Montañita, a small surfing town 14 hours and 3 bus rides further south. The long ride through Banana country was intersting and swelteringly hot compared to the alpine cool of Quito. After an unexpeted night in La libertad, a random town I found myself in after an attempted scam involving a used car salesman and a hotel, I made it to Montanita on sunday morning.
Dirt streets, wooden and bamboo buildings with palm leaf roofs, packs of hippies and dogs roaming the streets, this was an Ecuador I didnt know existed. After searching out the cheapest hostal (3.50 a night, a mattress and lumpy pillow in a loft with bats, a hammock and no walls) I started to get into the rythm of life on the coast. Bob marley playing from most shops, hot latinos and backpacker chicks, hippies on the street selling necklaces, braclets and drugs, surf shops and discotecs. The beach was great, butterflies flitting along and the perpetual heat was nice once I got used to it. So refreshing to unwind, not shower or change clothes for the week, study Spanish and surf during the day and hit the bars at night (when I had energy, 4 hours study and 2 hours surfing takes it out of you). Sleep was generally imposible until 4.30 am unless drunk, due to the empty bar next door that seemed to own half the speakers in Ecuador and played them all at full volume.
It was my first taste of the backpacking culture, met some cool people and scored a kilo of tea, a bunch of basil and some ear plugs. After a week there it was time to leave, I knew all the hippies by name and I had learnt to avoid sticky bat shit in the dark, using some weird batpoo-detection sense I had developed. So it was off to Cuenca, which Im just about to depart.
Yesterday I visited nearby towns of Baños and Sig Sig, because they were close and I knew nothing about them. When the bus reached the last stop I got off and started walking into the hills. After a few minutes in, when the houses grew further apart, dogs grew more rabid and people more stooped, I knew I had entered rural Ecuador. Small yet ferile plots filled densly with choclo, papas and frejols boarded the houses, with dirty walls and rusted roofs. A milk truck bounced down the road filled with people holding pales of fresh milk. Cows, Geese, Chickens, Pigs. After about an hour I found a nice grassy hill that I climbed to eat lunch and get a good veiw of the valley. A fast flowing wide river cut through the center. On one side a steep hill with a thick ecualyptus forest and the other, a contoured and indented mountain. The sweet smell of cow down and spicy wood smoke filled the air with a heady perfume. Earth coloured houses contrast with string of bright washing hanging out to dry. Hunched old ladies with huge bundles of sticks hobble along the winding dirt tracks, like jewels in their traditional clothes. Red, Green, Purple. The simplicity and honesty of this life made me sure that working on and with the land is what I want to do, this pictureque river valley I had stumbled upon was one of the most beautiful places Ive ever seen. With a light heart, onto Sig Sig, which turns out to be the home of Panama hats. A sad looking argicultural village, Sig Sig was full of life, a busy market and old creased ladies making Panama hats. I struck up a conversation with two as I watched them work, sitting on the floor with a wide fan of bleached straw, weaving and tucking it into a hat. The process takes a whole day, and the hat is then sold for $5 dollars to the cooperative that distrubts them. Armed with some apples the old ladies gave me I went in search of the place to buy them. After being told they were on the last street in the town, failing to find it there, then being told it was 2 km I gave up. I dont think I could pull it off anyway.
The area around Cuenca is stunningly beautiful for today I went to another great place, El Cajas, a national park in the highlands to the East. A combination of the Otago plains, Mount Arthurs tree line and a scottish more, this fetile tundra high is nestled high in hills carved by glaciers. Peppered with over 800 lakes that form silver bowls in the land and many endemic animals (I can now claim to have seen the Violet Throated Metal Tail Hummingbird, a great conversation stater) , the Cajas are breathtaking (figuratively and literaly, at 13000 feet I was feeling a little light headed). A cold bite to the air as I trekked along the treacherous paths, bright little flowers poking out from the mosses, and wild Llamas chewing on the hardy bushes. What a place this would be to come for a week, camping by a lake, catching fish for your meal, losing yourself in the solitude of this lonely hills, only the sound of rivers and echoing bird calls. I passed ancient Canari walls, and thinking of these ancient travelers who walked where I was walking now was a great feeling. With my Llama scarf wrapped round my head and some big juicy sandwhiches in my bag, I was at peace.
So, I have culled the contents of my bag down and filled it with grammar books and flutes for while on the farm. Becoming more indepedent everyday, with noone to tell you what to do, where to go etc you have to take matters into your own hands and find ways to stave off boredom, which isnt hard. Walking for hours getting a feel for the place and trying to find your way back. Writing, teaching yourself the panpipes, learning new words and talking to random pèople all keep me entertained.
Tonight onto Quito (night buses are great value as they save on a hostel) to pick up and send some stuff, then to the Commune for a month. Hooray for Vegetarian food, work on the land and a place to study and relax.
Hope all is well, wherever you are.
Over and out.
