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Published: March 7th 2011
Friday, March 4 and I wake up grumpy. The tortured rooster unleashes his cries at no discernible interval or schedule. I've already completed my Spanish homework but I'm behind in terms of studying, especially the million and one verbs and their conjugations I've got to memorize this first week of school. The Simon Bolivar school is celebrating Carnival today, starting at 10am, but waking at 9:30am, I decide to skip the early festivities and show up for my 2pm class. A few cups of tea, some cereal and some lackluster studying later, I'm off to Calderon Park to spend 20 minutes people watching before class. Small groups of young punks armed with water bottles terrorize citizens walking through the park, especially the young ladies. It's all part of Carnival, which gives anyone so inclined the right to assault any passing stranger with water balloons, confetti, various powders, etc. Whenever I catch some kid armed and surveying for targets, I give him a quick hard stare to let him know I'd rather be an un-doused gringo. As I said, I'm grumpy and not in the mood for class.
Approaching the school, I see the sidewalk and entrance way to the school are damp with sizable puddles. I turn the corner towards the entrance way just in time to see, through the glass door, a bucket of water being thrown at some student inside. I peel away and figure I'll give it five more minutes. They're probably just capping their Carnival celebration with 10 minutes of water sports. Not those kind. Chat with Norwegian Kristina who is meeting with her teacher outside the school to avoid the carnage inside. 2pm and time for class so I head in, thinking they'll be in clean up mode and prepping for the next four hours of Spanish. Wrong. Completely wrong. And it turns out to be awesome.
Upon entering I can see everyone is soaked from head to toe. The furniture has been moved out of the room and everything left...floor, walls, people....is wet. One of the teachers, armed with a hose that's never shut off, randomly sprays teacher and student alike. Music blasts and people try and shove some pizza in their mouths in-between getting sprayed. I see now why there's a drain in the center of the floor. I dodge the initial water attack and head to the second floor, whipping out the camera for some shots of the water wars. There's a few dry people up there, looking down and just marveling at the sight of them all. After initially rebuking my teacher Santiago's urging to come down and give in to the shenanigans, ten minutes later I give in to fate and fun and head down. The crowd sees a dry participant and quickly grow excited. I'm shuffled over to a plastic chair in the center of the room (I pass off my glasses, wallet and passport) and two teachers armed with giant buckets (water either from the hose or whatever remains of the puddle on the floor - this was not sanitary day) count off and haul the freezing water at my face before I get a round of the hose. Instant syrup. People are dancing, kicking water at each other, cheering. The vibe is celebratory in a purely joyous way. It's the holiday, this is what you do, so let's enjoy the hell out of it. This continues for the next three hours. Everyone is dumped on at least 10 times. Games end in dousing. Silly string flies. I get a face full of shaving cream, then someone has the idea to grab soil from the planter and smear everyone's face and head. Confetti is everywhere. I'm tossing buckets. Constant pitchers of this hot, sweet green liquor is passed around every minute. I had approximately 20 shots of the stuff (fortunately not that strong) but these people had been doing this for an additional four hours. I chat with Colorado Bob from the Ingapirca trip and his kicking his Tevas everywhere, determined to scoop all the water on the floor into someone's face. I meet Diego, a teacher and local who spent some years in an Ohio school. He invites me out later, looking to do me a solid for the people that invited him out in Ohio. Another student, Nicki, is a greek-filipino woman from Austin who's traveling with her boyfriend for six months. She's got my friend Becky's charming smile. We bond over books, Japan and the relative uselessness of an English degree and she quickly offers a place to stay in Austin if I'm ever there. We also make plans to hang out toward the end of the month (though we'll see about the initial salsa dancing idea). After three hours, it feels like I'm swimming on dry land and I pack up to head out, understanding my jeans and shoes will take weeks to dry. I'm covered with confetti, shaving cream, you name it. Exiting the school, the looks I'm getting from the locals are priceless. Cars full of children stare in fascination, probably thinking "they got this gringo good!" I'm thoroughly enjoying this, the case of the grumps long gone.
Unfortunately my cell phone is out of minutes and I'm never able to get in touch with Diego. With a 6am wake up for my trip to Cajas National Park, and the unenviable task of sqeegee-ing the puddles I've left in my apartment, I decide to pack it in and chill for the night.
Saturday morning, head downtown to grab the Cajas tour van, led by Yvonne and driver Edison. We've got the silent Cloudia, the Spanish couple, Retired New Mexico Teacher (who is the non-stop gabber of the trip) and a trip of youngins, the could-be-related Holland couple Holm and Hinka and their pal English Jane. The group never fully bonds, with the young trio off by themselves and everyone else a solo traveler, except for New Mexico who goes from person to person to repeat his life story and endless bits of knowledge ("Oh, the word for plant in Portuguese is..."). Somehow I've hurt my left bicep and arm shifts in certain directions cause shooting pain. Oh well. 45 minutes to the park, and our first trek is a 90 minute walk around a lake nestled in a valley. It's good to get out and just walk and luckily we've got a good weather day. The tour info is fair...bits about plants and such. We see a wild toucan and can hear some hummingbirds in the distance. An old factory where they used to make beer is one of only two structures on the lake. A few kids fish with makeshift poles. It's pretty - not California pretty, but solid. The next stop is way up on the mountain. We're at 12,000 ft, which is the height I skydived at. Up here, walking straight up the slope, the lungs are not happy. Every 30 feet or so, I have to rest for 20 seconds and slow down the breathing. Most everyone is in the same boat. We make it to the top in 20 minutes and it's all worth it. Staring around at mountains on every side, lakes far below in valleys...it's got the majesty of the top of Mt. Tam, a sense of looking down on creation. There's also llama shit and that gets a picture too.
The down side is that after quickly making the top, we don't head on. We're headed back to the van and the skies darken, rain and hail falling. Apparently you can get snow up here, especially in the morning and it's not the best idea to climb in that weather. The van heads out, I'm watching the scenery to Bowie, and after a quick stop at a rest area by a lake (in better weather, we would have hiked this, but with the rain, apparently we're done with hiking which is disappointing). Steamed trout and vegetables (btw, vegetables and fruits are tremendously fresh and tasty here, though Ecuadorians do not seem to use any spices in their food, so some dishes, if not bursting with natural flavor, can be a bit bland for the American palette) and I talk education, methods of learning and the like with New Mexico. I make sure to put the headphones back on when we get in the van. He's a nice enough guy, but just doesn't know when to give it a break. It's a sleepy ride home and before you know it we're back in the city. Another chill night (the desire to find some random bar and see if there's a Carnival-level of excitement just isn't there), mostly reading
How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe and
Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norris before sleep.
Sunday I quickly decide that I'm up for travel. Instead of hanging around Cuenca this week, I make the decision to figure out the national bus system and head north, ultimately to Tena, on the cusp of the rainforest. So I run a few errands, adding minutes to the phone, buying a towel and toilet paper (apparently I got those the first week as a courtesy but then they disappeared) and dodging Carnival celebration. Everyone is in attack mode today. A brass band plays in front of the Mariano Church but everywhere else is water balloon carnage. The young kids have mostly taken to the balconies and roofs. Trucks and buses are locked and loaded. A group of gringo travelers gets into a 30 second war with some locals. Five blocks from home, my neck twisting and turning looking for every possible threat, I spot an eight year old on a third story roof. We look eyes and he goes for the blue balloon, which ends up being about 4 feet off. I keep walking but he reloads quickly and has better aim this time. I have to two step away from being hit and disappear around a corner. This is what Bagdad must feel like, except without the death and dismemberment.
I confirm a reservation with a company to go white river rafting on Wednesday and everything from there on in is logistics. I have to take a 7 hour bus to Ambato tomorrow, then catch an hour bus to Banos (home of the only active volcano in the south and many hot springs). I'll stay in Banos Monday night (praying I can find accommodations...Carnival makes everything fill up), then take a 5 hour bus to Tena on Tuesday. While in Tena I'll also be looking into multi-day trips into the Oriente (Amazon), most of which have you staying with an indigenous tribe, learning how to use a blowgun, identify plants, take canoe trips and do lots of jungle walking and sight-seeing. Only big roadblock - almost all tours do not take solo bookings...so hopefully I'll find some other people interested in taking a tour while there. If not, I'll take in Tena, head back to Banos, soak in the springs and then make my way back to Cuenca.
I'm off early tomorrow. See ya in a week or so.
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non-member comment
HAHA Great post. Carnival sounds awesome! Just don't get any of that balloon water in your mouth. Have fun rafting and careful of the piranha!