Vilcabamba 04/23/08

Thanks for those who make comments or email. Just short of two months without any ingles conversation, so all contact is appreciated.

I have now taken my first, solo, out of town bus ride in Ecuador, and now have experienced some of the wonder of a third world (tercero mundo) country. My destination was to a small pueblo north of the frontier with Peru, where reportedly many live to 120. Even NASA scientists have studied the area to get an idea of why longevity exceeds all others. It took nearly eight hours total to cover maybe 200 miles or so, with a one night stay over in Loja. Partly due to the potholes in the road, which the driver, I am pleased to say, was careful to avoid. Roads are mostly asphalt, and with the heavy rains typical in the area, there were a number of holes. In addition was the evidence of land, or mudslides, which reduced the number of lanes from two to one. There actually was some new construction, where concrete was being laid. Not much, but it will be an improvement. Of interest to me was the organization and compliance. As in USA there was the person with the Stop and Go sign, directing traffic while access was restricted. Our bus driver actually stopped to wait. But, soon after, one, then another, vehicle, just passed by and kept on going. The signal guard, did his best to get out of the way. I was not too surprised observing how people drive in Cuenca, but I did have to shake my head. My professor later, just shook her head in understanding of my dismay.

As for the ride itself, the bus was modern and comfortable. For awhile. My arrival and departure was always at a terminal, and I received an assigned seat. But, I soon discovered only the lucky get a seat. Although there was a sign saying capacity was 40, I think the translation is 40 to the front, 40 to the back, and 40 up front with the driver and ticket salesman. But, at least no one had to ride on top. Another reason for the length of voyage is the number of stops along the way. Knowing that the majority of citizens here do not own a vehicle, bus transport is a requirement. To catch a ride, get to the street, stick out the hand, and get on, as the bus will stop and open the door. Conversely the reverse works as well. Want to get off, let the ticket person know, and a stop soon follows. I do not only refer to stops in the pueblos. Many stops were made where there was no evidence of residency visible on the mountain sides. I discovered that many walk one to two hours from their homes in, behind, the mountains to get to the road, then catch a ride. I have no idea how prices were determined. Mine, with a definite starting and stopping points was fixed. But, I observed what had to be bargaining between the pasenjeros and the ticket salesman (boy, as I sure the lad on the return trip was no older than 12) over the price. Oh well, at least I got a seat, which most did not. Needless to say the comfort level at departure, reduced to nada shortly after as more were added, and space was minimal. And yes, at least on the return trip, there were chickens, among the fruits, vegetables and other items. The lady next to me, for part of the trip, likely was indigenous, or mestizo, had no shoes on, and likely was one who walked two hours to get to the bus. Yes, an experience I likely will have again in two more weeks.

As for my destinations, which were two. The first was Loja, not too different from Cuenca, except a little smaller. After seven hours on the first leg, I spent the night, and only a couple of hours in town the next morning. The central park, activity, beautiful churches, a museum, then back to the terminal for the final leg, which took a little more than an hour. Similar bus experience. But, got to the town, which followed the same layout, of central park, beside the primary cathedral, with the growth outward from that point. Very small, less than 30 blocks total. My hosteria, was two km up the road, above town. Along the way as I walked, I met walking toward town, a man who greeted me with Buenas tardes, the first time a stranger greated me warmly since my arrival (remember I live in a city). I returned the greeting, was feeling good, then another shortly after repeated the good will. Then, not too much further I passed a mother and young girl, and I got the first greeting in. I knew things were going to be good, when I got a giggle from the young girl. I took my time, as the countryside, in the mountains was beautiful. Totally green. I reached the hosteria, named Izhcayluma, which is Quichua for “two hills”. What a great place it was, perfecto. Above the town below, you had a wonderful 360 degree view of the mountains. For about $25 for the night, I got a room, similar to a cabin room with private bath, but the grounds were like a high dollar resort, gardened fully, with hundreds of varieties, including banana, orchids, palm, cactus, flowers galore. Also, meandering through were fountains and cascades around the outdoor restaurant with a million dollar view. I checked in, then returned to the restaurant and took my time with spaghetti and Pilsner, very happy at last. Totally at peace, the place reminded me of Colorado, maybe even a decimal point better at this point in time.

Having enjoyed my late lunch, I returned to my quarters, where a hamaca was provided on the deck outside. Hammocks were invented here. I placed myself inside and admired the butterflies (mariposas) and dragonflies, while I listened to the rooster, the dog bark, and the bray of the burro, in the distance. Not so close as to be annoying, but far enough to bring a smile and a picture of the animal activity beyond. I have been so busy, with study and activity, that this truly was the first time since arrival that I found peace and my favorite of all Spanish words, tranquilo (second is corazon). Sometime thereafter I traveled one of the trails that cross the area, but I did not have time to cover the required distance to find a puebolita, even smaller than a pueblo. But, that was okay. I returned to enjoy more of the grounds, take more photos, then take an intermittent hot and cold shower, the only minus of the experience. A little study, then back to the restaurant for something to eat. By this time night had come, and the lights of Vilcabamba were visible below in the distance. Unlike some places, where lights of a city can be viewed from above, but those lights seem to have no end, as subdevelopments spread out beyond the inner city. Here, there were no suburbs, only the close sequestered lights of this wonderful village. No wonder one could live so long here. Wonderful climate, no traffic, no noise, friendly folks, and the perfect pace to spread out every minute of existence. I did not want to leave. One day, one night, was not nearly enough.