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Published: September 11th 2010
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La Mitad del Mundo
Crossing the equator... To describe my last two weeks in Ecuador, its best to start at the end.... After a truly beautiful, safe and inspiring trip, I was bummed about getting on a home-bound plane. I called my family from the airport and actually said, "No more worrying! I'm boarding the plane and will be back soon." Famous last words... While standing in the check-in line, sirens began alarming and within a few seconds, guards were ushering us outside into the late night air of Guyaquil. This is the largest city in Ecuador- with a reputation that inspired me to largely avoid it. I planned on only seeing its bus stations and airport (okay, and one art exhibit). So I was less than excited to hear "Hay una bomba" as we evacuated the airport into the dark, deserted streets of the city. Of all of the possible South American traveling snafus, I never imagined a bomb threat...
It was a logistical nightmare with a 16 hour flight delay, but it was an amazing cultural experience... Back to the scene... hundreds of people roaming the streets outside of the airport. No one really knows what is going on. Trucks roll up and men in
fluffy suits (which appear to be made of Saran-Wrap) enter the airport. Media is everywhere and photographers are aiming their lenses right and left. Scared children were crying. Sounds chaotic right? It was- kind of. Yet, everyone stayed calm. Polite even. Families were patient. Many started playing games in the streets to distract their worried kids. A car pulled up, opened its windows and started blaring Andean folk music. This vibe was contagious and I was infused with a super-size dose of patience. So we waited. And waited. A bomb-disabling robot entered the airport and retrieved a package that was detonated. Outside. In the parking lot. So after a giant explosion, we re-enter the airport (why not?) where we board a plane just to have our flight cancelled. Crazy night. I found myself pleasantly surprised by the tolerance and positivity of my co-travelers. Frustration gave way to smiles then conversation, delirious 2 AM jokes, and even some hugs at the end of it all. I am now back in the US- in one piece- smiling about those unpredictable adventures...
Now back to the good stuff... so after the Galapagos, I flew to Quito and from there, it was a
Otavalo
Friendly market vendor short drive to the equator. There is a tourist-trappy place called La Mitad del Mundo. $ 2 lets you stradle the equator (a yellow line painted on the ground). I got in the spirit of things and enjoyed the kitsch. Then we went a few hours further north to the town of Otavalo- a place famous for its Saturday market. I caught a hair-raising ride there with 4 German friends I had met in the Galapagos. They were about my parents age, generous, determined, and totally fearless! Which is how I found myself lost in the outskirts of Quito (quite a shady locale) riding in a glistening red SUV led by a directionally-challenged, German-speaking GPS. Yikes. After a few hours of wondering if we would ever again find a paved road, we FINALLY made it to Otavalo. Like good German folks, we shared some beers, reliving our narrow escape from the backroads of Quito, and then explored the sprawling market.
Otavalo is a pretty pueblo in the northern Andes. There is a very large indigenous population there which is considered to be the most prosperous indigena in the country. Their market has existed for hundreds of years and there
are many federal laws to protect the people, their land and customs. If you believe my taxi driver, the men are exempt from military service because they traditionally wear their hair in one long braid down their back.... What is definitely true is that they share a proud custom of dressing traditionally- women wear white embroidered blouses, long skirts, head cloths and many strands of beads. Men wear ponchos, white capri-like pants and felt hats. If you see someone from Otavalo, you will know they are from Otavalo. They are famous for their textiles and knitted goods. I finally gave in to temptation and loaded up on souvenirs until the ole backpack could take no more...
After Otavalo, I headed west. It was in a tiny Pacific village (San Jose) that I spent my last week in Ecuador. I stayed in a community of little cabins perched on a mountain overlooking the ocean. In the morning, I could see whales from the porch, splashing their tales in the sea. This was a week of silence and calm. And moisture. I learned the word "garua" which means tiny-drizzle-of-rain (a pretty constant occurrence in August). This was a wet place- bursting
with green and a seriously earthy smell- the combination of which felt almost pre-historic. I spent mornings in my hammock then walked to the foot of the mountain and bought bananas and oranges for 20 cents from a fruit stand. The village itself was startlingly poor. Most kids don't go past the 6th grade. Girls start having babies in their mid-teens. There is little opportunity, but there are hammocks on every porch- and people are ALWAYS in them. It was not unusual to see donkeys led on a rope by an old man down the beach. Time moved very sloooowly. My friend from Cuenca met me there so these long and lovely days were shared with good company and lots of spanish.
About 5-10 km south was the super rasta surf village of Montanita- filled with foreigners and Ecuatorians on vacation. When the extreme calm of our little village became unbearable, we traveled here by "cab" (very loose term for normal car driven by a man with a business card). I rented a surf board and the water was warm enough to go wet suit-less. I caught some baby waves, but mostly watched the hardcore surfers go to town.
Even people that live in one room houses there have surfboards- its pretty cool. Montanita is a place many people come to party with hippy "artisans" selling their wares and clubs on every corner. We found a little spot with a live salsa band, a beautiful Colombian singer and a packed dance floor. And so, we danced. With happy people from all over South America, Europe, Australia... Good times.
And before I knew it, my summer in Ecuador was over. This trip was many things- celebration, adventure, discovery. Interesting, passionate people from corners of the world wove throughout my trip- sharing experiences, philosophies and inspiration. I grew to feel at home in a beautiful and varied culture that taught me patience, appreciation for little moments, and simple beauty. As I was leaving (all 36+ hours of that process...), I relfected upon my solo-backpacking days and searched for a lesson applicable to the rest of my life. Some new-found wisdom or morsel of truth. Here's what I got: Our lives are shaped by how we participate in them- conjuring an open-spirit and courage is amazingly enriching. And our world is filled with chances for this- from across the ocean to
around the corner....
So, now I am back. I signed up for a salsa class and am plotting my return to the South American dance floor at this very moment.... Thanks for following my trip!! Les cuento luego.
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Tim Connelly
non-member comment
Hola Happy Gringa
Hi Jen, just caught the end of your blog. Glad you got the full meal deal on your way out. I've got to give you little grief here, you missed the equator!! the real line is a little farther up the road and down a dirt side road. Carlos my professor took me there one morning and we passed the park you visited en route. The actual equator spot is a little recreated indigenous village. Guess this came about with satellite measurements etc.. I'm planning on heading back to Quito for a bit then to Buenos Aires and Bariloche. I may put my house on the market since I don't need a big family home and it would definitely simplify my travel timeframes. Kinda take a page from your playbook in that regard. Lately I've taken in 3 little orphaned kittens which is amazing. Your mind sync with the Andeans at the airport is in ways is similar to what these little kittys have to share. They're maybe 5 weeks now and getting to be a hoot. Take good care and all my best for your Seattle adventures. Tim