Sherman_07_19_08

I have climbed the first for summer of 2008, Mt. Sherman, about a five-hour drive north, after you cross the Divide to the east. Fairly easy to get to, only the last eight miles on a washboard forest road. Two things circled the two days devoted to the effort, one the climb itself, the second the mental attitude of the effort.
As the climb is really considered not much more than a “walk-up, meaning not much more than physical exertion is involved, the worry became the diminished attitude of attempt. For an unknown reason(s) the anticipation of earlier attempts was absent. Any number of possibilities can be offered. Was it the solitary experience of the climb as almost all have been, a “been there done that” boredom, the experienced knowledge of knowing the aches that would follow, a tiredness brought about by the continuance of a long sequence of goal driven desires for near a year? Or, more worrisome, a deepness of some sadness setting in that needs a major event to avoid a tail spend. And, why would that be, having reached a period of relative calm, and certainty? Something to figure out, that needs attention and work.
As for the climb, it was as ‘advertised’ fairly easy on the effort. The entire walk, approximately a seven-mile round trip, just under 3,000 foot elevation gain, was gradual and steady. Not too many obstacles presented themselves. The entire area was an old mining spot. Vacated mines were easily visible on the slopes and the neighboring mountains. I don’t know what mineral motivated these men (no attempt at sexism), to challenge the altitudes, inclines, and outside four, five, months some extremely uncomfortable weather conditions. But, either there was, or was thought to be, plenty of the element based on the number of sites. I would like to know more about these mines, but do not. Some, as evidenced by the “junk” left behind give a hint that there was activity not too many years past, electricity, motorized machinery, even an old pickup with a 50’s of 60’s body style. Just don’t know.
A few climbers were already on the trail when I got started. There were typical exchanges of greetings, with folks from Colorado, Chicago, Philadelphia. Many more were met on the descent. There were also, it seemed, more than the usual numbers of dogs brought along for the climb. Perhaps due to the expected ease of the climb, but certainly more in number. Not sure I support dogs on the trail. I can understand the desire to share time with a loyal friend, but even on well developed trails, there still is limitation to space and secure footing. At the minimum, in my opinion, they should be leashed, for the protection of all. This trip brought a sample of the danger. Snow still is found in the mountains here at this time, due to the previous heavy winter. One of the few spots of caution was about 1,000 feet below peak, where one has to carefully cross about two feet deep snow patch, maybe 100 yards in length. As it happened on the descent, I observed a near “situation” as two groups met just above this snow patch, one pair on the ascent, the other on the descent. Both had dogs with them, one leashed, two not. At the intersection, the ridge narrowed and the parties were funneled close, including the dogs. Well, the unleashed dogs, perhaps with friendly intent, approached the leashed lab mix, who had no desire for friendship, and a nasty entanglement immediately resulted. The female owner of the unleashed tried to pull away the two, and in the mix of things, was jostled and fell onto the snow, whereupon she slid near the full length. She lodged against a small cropping of rocks among the snow, which perhaps prevented her from a horrific fall that awaited not too far beyond the snow. She was hurt, but with the assistance of her partner and others in her group, managed to get back on the trail, damaged, limping, but with no evidence of broken bones. Did not have to happen.
As to the completion of the climb, it was otherwise uneventful. At the top was the usual reward of a 360 degree view of the mountain ranges around, views of 100 miles in some directions. More snow than I have ever seen at this time of year. In comparison to other climbs, this was maybe midway. Some coverage of wildflowers, but not as much as other places, perhaps due to the mining activity that was once here. A nice view at the top, but primarily more mining spots below. So, as regards color and variety there was not too much offered. Still, it was a warm-up climb and yes, it was followed with tightness and tiredness. I got down easily, made the round trip in about four hours, a very quick climb, and returned to my tent site. Had a quick bite as the clouds began to come in, threw everything in and departed. I avoided evaluation, and will let that happen later.

San Juan River, 06/03/08

Not much more than one week back from Ecuador and I am back on the banana boat. Well, that is not really true. Rather I am in a raft. Accepting an invitation from a friend in Pagosa, shortly after returning to Pagosa, my friend and I headed to Utah, to join nine others to raft the San Juan River. The San Juan actually starts in the mountains around Pagosa, but travels miles and miles through Colorado, New Mexico, then into Utah. After draining water from several sources, uniting with other rivers and streams, it finally deposits a steady flow of snow melt into Lake Powell, which stretches for miles, enlarged by other rivers, including the Colorado. Reluctantly, or gladly, either way, Lake Powell finally lets loose some of its capture back to the Colorado as it heads through the Grand Canyon.
I suppose the San Juan does not have the notoriety of the Colorado, and is not framed by the canyon walls of the Grand Canyon. However, the San Juan too has its own strength, beauty, contribution, and visual beauty among canyon walls. Thus, it drew the excited interest of the eleven rafters, all except I who had returned to previous enjoyment of the river. All, except I, had several experiences on rivers, for some including rafting in the Grand Canyon.
The trip covered roughly 86 miles, and seven days. We embarked near a small desert town of Bluff, into the fast moving and muddy river. At first the landscape was somewhat routine, not too impressive. But, we got off around noon, and buddied up in twos, except for the most experienced, who went solo. The first day was rather short, and we found a camp site, which was pretty nice for a primitive site. Thereafter, the days travels were generally longer and more eventful. Along the way we stopped at various locations, and added land hikes to our watery highway.
Each hike had its own flavor. The first included visitation to Indian ruins, not only to wonder at the mystery of a missing culture, the architecture, reasons for location and then disappearance, and then to frequent discovery of wall art, petroglyph and pictograph, and the possibilities of interpretation of the images seen.
Other hikes included walks to old miner cabins, or sites. Others were up canyons, washes, gullies. One (name not remembered) provided great relief from the heat, as it linked spring water into many pools as it ran toward the river. All on the trip found their own seclusion in one or more of these pools and taking an initial deep breath, plunged into the coolness, which soon enough was worth the initial shock.
So many avenues to pursue and investigate, departing from the full river to the desert surroundings that began almost immediately from the shore. A certain contrast between the rapid movement of a full river, then to the sand and limestone cliffs that began after the first day. Soon these cliffs were rising over 1,000 feet up, with numerous side canyon intersections along the way. All had degrees of erosion to show, many amazing the onlooker with tremendous ability to balance huge rocks upon edges, smaller rocks, threatening to let go as we rafters raced by, looking upward and hopefully backward, to find all was still intact, though at the same time wishing to be around, at a safe distance, when the grip would finally be released, to observe what would be one heck of a show of force and energy and noise.
The ride on the river was for the most part fairly fast. There were occasional challenges with waves, rocks too close, narrowing entries, and the cliffs on either side. One rapid was sufficiently scary to require a beaching first to observe the energy, contemplate the risk and the challenge, develop a plan, and then finally to try and implement that plan. Despite the initial worry, all, including myself, succeeded without incident. On this particular rapid, I was only a passenger. A wise decision, based upon my display of limited skills with oars on the raft. Granted this was my first experience, but there was a bit of personal disappointment in my limited development over the week. I am not yet decided as to whether I am not all that symmetrical, if I am decidedly stronger on one side, or what the issue may be as to why I could not direct the raft on a straight course. If I rowed backward, the problem was lessened considerably, though not entirely eliminated. Still, it was an experience enjoyed, and if given another opportunity I would indeed do it again.
And, even though not the Colorado, or the Grand Canyon, it was a wild river and a trip through beautiful canyons.

LastHurrah_05/08/08

One last excursion in Ecuador. I finished my classes on Wednesday last, and with my remaining days proceeded to two destinations.

The first was to Chimborazo, a volcano which has been inactive for the last few years. It is somewhat isolated and is not hindered in its presence to those below by other peaks competing for attention. The mountain is special, because al cumber (at the peak) it can claim to be the most distant point from the center of the earth, a fact that Everest cannot claim.

I departed Cuenca on Saturday morning for a seven hour bus ride, which was somewhat similar to my first bus experience. There were the frequent stops at unmarked places, contstantly changing the interior presence of people, packages, foods, chickens, all of different colors, kinds and descriptions. I must wonder about the system, as I have no deep understanding before my departure from this country. I am impressed by the creative energy to make a minimal amount of money in this third world nation. At the most popular of stops, the usual occurrence is for vendors to step on the bus selling papas fritas (homemade potato chips), or banana chips, choclo (cooked corn), dulces (sweets), empanadas, and other food items. This is often done while the bus is in motion. After they have made a few centavos, hopefully, they then tap the door behind the driver, depart, and I assume work their way back in the reverse direction doing the same. Of less frequency, is the occasional person who appears at the front center aisle, then gives the most elaborate of speeches or presentations to sell some minor product. I am not developed enough in my Spanish to understand if this is for a ¨cause¨or just a personal salesmanship effort. Perhaps some of both. But, I have observed pitches for herbal medicine, magazines, DVDs, and charitable contributions.

Anyway, my destination was a small crowded city, Riobamba. Part of the mystery to the transportation system is knowing where to start or end. I expected a terminal upon arrival, and as there was none I soon suspected I was leaving Riobamba. Luckily confirmation of my dismay was not too far out, and I was able to catch a taxi for one dollar back to the town and my hotel. There indeed is a terminal, but not one visited by this particular bus.

With the noted correction, I spent the night in Riobamba, then met my guide the next morning. We proceeded to Chimborazo, and with the ability to drive to about 15,000 feet at one of two refugios used by climbers, we left the truck and began a short climb. We made it to the second refugio, which is at approximately 16,500 feet, about 2,000 feet higher than any mountain in Colorado. That still left us short of the 20,000 feet plus peak. Normally it is an eight hour push from this point to the top, usually accomplished on the second day. Of interest is the depth of snow on the mountain, knowing we were not too many miles south of the equator. Fortunately the clouds observed from below did not reach to the top. We left the clouds below and were gifted by the sun and a clear view of the top of this wonderful place.

Afterward we retreated down, and skirted to the western side where my guide´s house is. It sits across the tracks of a train no longer in use. But, the view of the area around was wonderful. This area is farmland, and the beauty of the surrounding fields as they creep up the sides of these mountains was truly pastoral. Unfortunately the clouds, hanging midway around Chimborazo remained, so a full view of the charm was not to be had. But, what I did see and experience is a memory for me.

The next morning was another bus ride. This time I carried the fear of missing another stop. However, my fears were unnecessary and I arrived at a true bus terminal in a town called Banos de Agua Santa. As with every sight I have seen in this country, outside the packed cities, the land is mountainous, but totally green to the tip. Amazing is how the farmers can grow crops on the sides of these wonders. I know some of the grades have to be greater than 45 degrees. No wonder I have only seen two tractors in two months. The land is tilled by hand, or if one is fortunate enough to be technologically advanced, they may have an oxen to dig and turn this fertile area. I do believe that this small country could feed half the world, if a distribution system could be developed. Of course, the developed countries would also have to alter their system of subsidizing agriculture.

The town is wonderful. Very tourism oriented, but I am fortunate to have arrived at a nonpeak time, such as the months of June through August. The town contains a hot springs, very similar to what is in Pagosa, though presented differently. Likewise, there is also a river that runs through. Somewhat bigger than Pagosa, and like almost all towns here in Ecuador, it is built from the center out, creating a square effect, so that to know the town requires a circular walk, starting from center and proceeding out. So much different than in the America I know which is essentially linear, where the towns, at least initially, seem to start and spread out along a main street. Such it is with most small Texas and Colorado towns, at least from my observation.

After enjoying the slowness, the quiet of this town, and its central parks, certainly different than my home base of Cuenca, I enjoyed my stay at my hotel. Next morning, with a guide, we toured one direction into the surrounding mountain valleys via bicycle. Our efforts took us along rivers, and gave us wonderful views of cascadas (waterfalls), seemingly one after another, with wonderful latin names, such as ¨thread of milk¨, the ¨virgin veil¨, and of course, the ultimate, ¨El Diablo¨. We even took one cable crossing over one river, hanging (colgado) over the rapids below, several hundred feet above, only by one tightly wound steel cable. Knowing how much of the country does not do extremely well with maintenance issues, there was a bit of doubt about the reliability of this particular infrastructure. However, it was a bit exciting. This tropical area is certainly a place that one could find inspiration, creative or inspirational. I hope some remains with me as I return home after two months in a different world.

These last few days are a good way to leave. Less hurried, more observation, less contact, but more communion, I am glad to have reserved a few days for myself after the two month duration of instruction. Both have ended well. I have been rewarded with breaking a barrier, personal and social. I no longer need wonder or assume about conditions elsewhere in this world. A wonderful country, beautiful people, for some reason challenged, but surviving.

I will carry thoughts with me, and once settled, perhaps on the plane, maybe I can sort some things out, note my questions, and do something with the gift of these two months. No answers, yet, but this experience has happened, and it must be for some reason. I hope one more blessing comes, in that I discover that reason.

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.

Half-way 04/12/08

For some reason, this disappeared, so I am reposting it.

A somewhat active week, outside of the classroom. The week marked the beginning of the second half of my school term. Luckily I am not taking credit hours, so exams were not given and grades provided. Otherwise I may have been one sad student. Self assessment would attach a B+ for effort and a C- for result. I still remember that first class, when my professor came in, and after the opening Buenos dias and Como estas, I did not recognize another word for the next 15 minutes. It has gotten better since, but I still have this feeling, like a deer running through the forest with a pack of wolves behind. Except they are not behind, but around me. I am bleeding in the haunches, and if I stumble once more, its over. Was it Satchel Paige who said, “don’t look back, ‘cause they might be gaining on you”?.

Outside of the classroom this week I was able to get into the mountains. A friend of my Cuencano father is both a veterinarian and a professor at the Universidad de Cuenca in the agricultural department. The university has a farm in the mountains outside of Cuenca and gave me an invitation to see, which I gladly accepted. I did not brush up on my metric conversions, so I do not quite know the elevation, but since Cuenca is above 8,000 as a starting point, we had to be above 10,000 feet. The road up is not too indifferent from the forest roads in Colorado. Were it not for the exchange of vehicles at the university to four wheel drive, I am not so sure we would have arrived, due to rains that have been occuring daily. Amazing to find little hamlets along the way. Not totally desolate and isolated, but certainly difficult to imagine a daily trip up and down. Expecially since so few here have personal transportation. Economy size pickups are frequently packed with passengers in back.

Equally amazing is the common sight of newly constructed houses in all kinds of places in Ecuador. Despite the poverty of the campos, these new homes, certainly in excess of 3,000 square feet, with three or four stories, with beautiful mountain views, are often empty. They belong to Ecuadorians working in the states, who build these homes with their American earnings, which easily surpass what one could make here. Such homes, have been reported to me as costing between 60 and 70 thousand dollars, for those curious. We passed several along the way.

Once at the top, I met several students prepping some cows for a weekend festival in celebration of the Foundation of Cuenca. Next I visited and watched the milking operation of the farm. Despite my Texan heritage, my personal observation of cows being milked was nada. But, I am proud to say that I got milk in the can, after only my second squeeze. Fortunately for the cows, however, the operation is not totally manual. They do have milking machinery. I will say that the process, particularly with the rains in the mountains, is not clean, and it is not a job that I would want to depend upon. Popo, nickname of the veterinarian, was there to inspect a couple of the cows. One had some type of infection causing a “leak”. He administered the appropriate treatment and shot and we returned to town, fully packed with students and adults. Fortunately the weather was exceptionally good during the afternoon. As soon as we returned to town, however, the rains began again.

A couple of days later, on the weekend, I did my best to see as much as I could during the Fiesta celebrating the Foundation of Cuenca. There are events everywhere, in town and on the edges. Crafts, music, dance, art, races were everywhere. Saturday morning I watched my first parade in many years. I watched about an hour, and missed far more than that before I arrived. From my observation, it consisted mostly of high school students, but there were some universities represented and several children groups as well. A few small adult groups, but it certainly was mostly student participants. Bands and dancing groups, dressed in colorful costumes only added to the brightness of one of the few sunny days I have seen since my arrival. The costumes and colors were as varied and as multiple as one´s imagine would allow. Guessing only, but I would say the course of the parade was easily a mile and one-half. With the sun, the full costume dress, the stress of not missing a step or a beat, the thousands of spectators that lined the full distance of parade, no wonder how few showed smiles. But, there was that occasional champion who did try. And all did wonderously in their performance.

The parade had group after group representing the large number of schools in the city. I have not yet discovered how the school system works here, but there are schools throughout the city. One is only a few steps away from my school, and for the last month there has been the frequent sound of drums in their patio, bum bum, bum bum, bumbedee bumbedee, bum bum. I now understand it all, as tambores were the dominant instrument, and indeed most of the groups I saw were totally drum. And, they were good. There were two particularly that had me looking for a dance partner, but alas, no. Several years ago Paul Simon had a record where many of the songs were backed by drummers, many from South America. These two groups reminded me of those. The beat moved up from toes to top. How so many could learn drums is amazing. In the hundreds, thousands, of percussionists. Easy to understand the latin rhythm, where it starts, where it takes you. With my class hours, are four gratuity free salsa lessons. I do acknowledge some difficulty, and therefore my appreciation of the students and their street performance is truly sincere. I think too many of us have steel rods inserted in our backbones.

Besides the bands and the dancers, were the required presence of floats and selected princesses. Among the crowds were the hawkers of foods and drinks, parasols and hats. I was fortunate to have a small square of viewing access, squeezed between umbrellas and viewers. Pressed in with all the others trying to get a sight, or photos, no wonder I did not feel the hand somehow get my billfold. How, I have no clue. It was in a front pocket, zippered and my rain jacket squeezed in. I am glad they only took the billfold, containing around $35, and put back the jacket. It cost me $60 at REI. I do not carry cards, license or passport, so only money, and a few numbers and references were inside. If anyone gets a strange South American phone call, you may be able to assist in discovery. That was pretty much the only damper in my day.

I followed later in the day with a watch at the finish line of a competition race of local firefighters. Then later at a nearby park I watched an outdoor concert, one of many around the city this weekend. I have seen Andean music before, but never an electric performance. Quite enjoyable. Other music groups both preceded, and followed the groups I observed. All presented some aspect of music associated with the country and gave a different perspective of the cultural variety found here.

Cuenca trabajando para ti.

¬

Gualaceo_04/05/08

This weekend was a destination for the pueblo of Gualaceo, a little more than an hour drive from Cuenca, into the outlying mountains, but actually at a lower altitude, into one of the many valleys. Two stops were made prior to entry into Gualaceo. The first was a brief stop to watch one of the artisanos weave a shawl. We did not spend much time here, but long enough to note the care, skill and great length of time to create beautiful shawls by hand. Apparently, like in many parts, due to the time involved in creation, many of the young choose not to learn the skills of the parents. So, there will be a time to come when there will be none to follow.

Next stop was at an orchid nursery. Orchids are found wild in the mountains of Ecuador, but this venture not only was reproducing native plants, but was also in discovery and creation of hybrids. Not sure if I have my facts correct, but recollection is, depending on the variety, that up to three years could be involved in growth of a plant. They sell worldwide via internet and must do quite well based upon the facility and grounds of the operation. In addition to the nursery itself, was a small fruit orchard and a few parrots, bright and bold. The orchids themselves, that were in bloom, were as expected, beautiful and richly colored. Some had aromas to match. One even had the smell of chocolate. My favorite orchid was the ‘monkey face’.

Next stop was Gualaceo. This visit was on the big market day, and streets were crowded, not only from the locals, turistas as myself, but also many from surrounding towns like Cuenca, to enjoy the delights and make purchases. One of the town’s significant attractions is the clothing it sells, much from artisanos like our first stop. However, we skirted the shops selling such items. First we walked into the food market where all sorts of items were being cooked for the hungry. Though a covered shelter, it was open to the air. I believe this site was the source of the idea for food courts in malls around the US. One could buy carne of all sorts, beef, chicken, pork, fish, and of course, the favorite of Cuenca, cuy. Cuy, is roasted guinea pig. For those with special attachment to the critters, you may want to consider the options you now have. There appears to be a fair amount of meat upon the fat little fellas. I have not yet tasted the delight, but I have promised to find out if they taste like chicken before I return. All the foods are cooked right there in front of you, and meats are for sell, cooked or not. If you wanted to see the whole animal butchered, there they are for inspection. Besides the meat entrees, there are many other items as well, many with corn or potato as primary ingredient as those are staples in all of Ecuador. I myself had an Ecuadoran version of tortilla, which is far more like a pancake than our version of tortilla. And, yes, it was quite tasty. It only lacked maple syrup.

Next stop was the open air market of fresh grown fruits, vegetables, grains, and flowers. The place was immense and covered the entire block. The place was packed with people shopping for produce. There are fruits here I have never seen, plus virtually every other that I have. First impression is about the huge quantity of produce found here. Much is grown on the nearby farms, others from the coastal area which produces fruits too hard to grow at high altitudes. Bananas are the number one export of Ecuador. The size of the individual fruits in particular is striking, many almost twice the size of what I find at the grocery. Another interest is the vendors. Many, though not all, ladies richly dressed in color. I am told that most are mestizo (mixture of native and Spanish blood) not strictly indigenous peoples. They are very watchful and quite beautiful. A lasting impression is the total color of the place. Fond of color, the mixture of the bright clothing set among the colors of bananas, citrus, roses, corn, and so many others, certainly attracted my wonder and amazement. It is impossible to believe that such an amount could possibly be sold within the weekend. What happens with the rest? No idea, particularly since freshness is essential to the lifestyle I have observed. And, though refrigeration does exist, not much is kept for any length of time.

This is not the first Mercado I have observed since my arrival in Ecuador. All are busy, colorful, some at risk t pickpockets and full of interest. However, this one was a bit more special, perhaps because it was outside and the day had not yet produced rain (though that did come in buckets). I hope the photos give at least a hint.