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Published: February 12th 2009
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Camino para El Altar
The Floripondia flowers in my pocket never made it to the teapot... This cafe is somehow free of mosquitos. This entry, however, will remain short. My electronic apetite is diminishing by the day, and more than likely will expire soon.
After a day in Mexico City, a city where the metro rides packed beyond imagination, and the smog stings like cigarettes held under your eyes, I took an overnight flight to Quito to meet Esteban´s family and friends, and stay with them for a week. Again, an inspiring poeple with so much love and respect.
Within two days, we had managed to land ourselves on a trek to El Altar about four hours south of Quito, past Ambato. The trek was one through a farming valley, up to a refuge at 3500 meters, where we camped under a large boulder which provided shelter. Unfortunately, explaining it took about 1/10,000 of the time that it took to hike. The trail which provided us a very clear understanding of where to go, failed miserably in delivering us there efficiently. Serving as the main trail on which the farmers herd their cattle and pack supplies through on donkeys, it had surely not been the path less traveled. At least not by animals. (In fact,
Laguna de El Altar
At 3900 meters, its not just the landscape that takes the breath away... not a soul but farmers and animals we saw). In any event, the steady pounding of rain for weeks prior, and, unfortunately, during our trek, had turned this ´camino´ into more or less a freshly-baked fudge-brownie highway, but in consistency only. In fact, in place of condensed milk and sugar, cocoa and eggs, it was dirt, silt, rock, donkey, and cow shit. Two feet deep in shit, literally, it took us ten hours to hike 12 kilometers, 3 of which in complete blackness with the steady buzz of the andean winter rainfall.
The following day, we climbed to the lagoon at 3900 meters, and the view was enough to instantly forget the treacherous night of hiking. The 'altar' which it is referred to in spanish, consists of 200 degrees of 5000-6000 meter peaks, snow-capped and glacier-ridden, and absolutely gorgeous. Kananaskis, eat your heart out. (The pictures I will add soon). Along the route, we found many floripondia trees, which have long tubular flowers, bright red and yellow (among others) which hang from the higher branches. The local indigenous people sometimes use the leaves under the pillows of their children when they cannot sleep. The plant actually contains alkaloids, and
Gringo and the Guides
As always, photos don´t do justice, but the valley was gorgeous... is commonly used as an admixture for shamanic purposes among some indigenous cultures, causing delusions and hallucinations. We picked some flowers and leaves with which to make tea, but as they were drying in Quito, they were thrown away, mistaken for garbage. Perhaps for the better.
From Quito, roughly nine hours in a bus took me to Montanita, a small surfing town on the coast of Ecuador where a house in the town is filled with the incessant noise of party goers until the late hours of the morning. The town sleeps during the day and most of the afternoon, until the surfers and backpackers alike emerge again in their hangover haze, nursing it only once more on the beach with a cold Ecuadorian Pilsener. A life easy to fall into. Nonetheless, the noise was too much, and Ayampe, a tiny little town perched on the beach about 20 kilometers north proved much more relaxing, albeit, with its own interesting stories. The day we arrived, a gang of young boys broke into one of the only major hostels, interrupted a birthday party, only to steal away the candle-blowing breath by filling the mouth of one of the workers with
El Centro Historico de Quito
Perched in the mountains, a shortage of amazing views doesn´t exist in Quito the barrel of a handgun. Money, cigarrettes and passports were taken, but luckily no lives were lost. Everybody was asked to remain silent about the occurence. Like it never happened. (Even though yesterday, 100 kilometers south on the coast, the same thing happened in another hostel).
Puerto Lopez is where I am writing this entry, a sizeable fishing town with more smiling children and hostel owners who moonlight as christian recruiters. It took an hour for me to explain to Maria that I could not possibly make friends with someone who refuses to speak to me. It still fell on deaf ears, as she invited me to an 'acceptance' ceremony last night on my way to bed.
I will head north from here along the coast until Canoa, then head east back through Quito for some Cuy (or Guinea Pig). Apparently, the meat is amazing, although comes in full form on a spit, complete with the screaming face of the creature, frozen at the moment of death. Supposedly, it is along with the ability to ignore the facial features that one can enjoy the feast. This makes sense. In fact, I feel much more comfortable eating any meat
An unexpected shower
At the point in Montanita, Ecuador here, knowing that most of it, comes naturally or from a free-range farm, hormone and chemical free. After the second Quito visit, it is off to Coca to navigate the Rio Napo, an estuary of the Amazon, into Peru, and through to Iquitos, one of the largest cities in the world not reachable by road. By that time, I imagine my desire to use electronics will be lost somewhere in the Amazon Basin. Following, I will communicate with you all via esp. I've heard its something that the forest offers.
Ciao
M
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