Midnight Bathing Ceremony

Last weekend my host family took me on a crazy and unforgettable adventure: ritual bathing at midnight in a "hot" spring to celebrate the festival of Inti Raymi. The purpose of bathing at midnight in this vertiente, as they call it, is to purify yourself and make your body strong and resistant to illness. I refrained from sharing with them my thought that being wet and outside at midnight in the coldest month of the year might actually invite sickness. Around 20 of us--my family and all of their cousins, aunts, uncles, friends-- piled into the back of a big truck at around 11pm, my sisters assuring me that we were going far, far away and that I'd better bring my pillow. No more than 15 minutes later, the truck stopped.

I was confused, but followed everyone else as they climbed out of the truck and started along a path into the woods. Carrying candles, we descended muddy switchbacks into a valley. I was told that if I didn't gather firewood along the way, I'd be charged admission. I knew they were just kidding me, but I gathered as much firewood as I could carry anyway. I began to think that there would be a lot of people where we were going, and wondering what exactly they meant by "bathing". Was this going to be a freezing cold stream? Would I be told to whip myself with an ortiga nettle? Would I really be invincible to illness afterward?

When we arrived at the bottom of the switchbacks, we were in a pasture-filled valley bottom. Only a few yards away was the spring, bubbling and steaming. Sweet, I thought, this isn't going to be freezing and miserable after all. Even better, we built a huge bonfire and sat around it on benches.

Meanwhile Santos, my host dad sprinkled rose petals around the edge of the spring and in the water too, preparing the ceremonial area. He called us all over, and we stood contemplating the dark forest we had come from as he chanted in Kichwa. He got into the pool and blew several long, deep blasts from the conch shell.

Then they said it was time to get in, so I changed into my suit and came back with my towel. The air was chilly but I thought it would make it that much nicer to get into the steaming water. One by one my cousins and sisters and uncles waded out to the middle of the pool, and Santos poured water over them from the conch, sprayed water from his mouth onto their faces, backs and arms, shook dry leaves over them, and sent away any bad energy with a big whoosh from his mouth.

I watched several people go before me, getting cold but excited for the hot water. Finally I put my foot in, and discovered that the water was only slightly warmer than the air!

Yikes, that discovery called for a cigarette. Actually, smoking the cigarette was part of the ceremony, along with "wine" that tasted like rubbing alcohol mixed with grape perfume.

When it was my turn, the water wasn't too bad, and I felt myself if not literally then at least emotionally cleansed. This was like the start of a new chapter, the summer months. No more runny nose and homesickness (I hoped).

Not everyone bathed-- Estela and Pacha preferred to hang out on the edge and watch. Margarita and Cristina, two of our cousins, were there for moral support.

Brr, time to warm up by the fire.

No sooner had I gotten out of the pool, it started raining. The dry eucalyptus leaves provided a short furious blaze, then fizzled out. Then it started pouring. We gathered our things and scurried up the switchbacks to the truck. By the time we got home it was 2am--the perfect time for chicken and potato soup!

Fiestas and Farewells

A few weekends ago I attended the USINQUI (local indigenous community organization) annual party. At about 11am, my family and I waited outside our house for about half an hour before hailing an empty pick-up to take us up the road to Javier’s house. Javier is the other shaman in the area aside from my host dad, and their differing techniques as healers seem to have driven a subtle but perceptible divide between the two families. My sisters helped Javier’s wife and daughters hand out round after round of soup—first chicken broth (I got the head, whoopee!), then thick stew with a whole hardboiled egg in each bowl.
I ran into two of my students, who showed me the chickens while we ate our soup.

My sisters were bustling around to feed the hundred or so people that had gathered, and told me afterward that Javier’s wife had been mean to them. This only topped off the night before, when a few of us had showed up to help prep for the party and were given the cold shoulder for a few minutes, then told that everything was already done. We then walked back to my house in the dark since there were no more busses (something I’ve been repeatedly told not to do alone). I was baffled by the whole experience, but back to the party…

After we ate, several of the men formed a circle and started dancing. Many were dressed in wooly chaps and two of them were carrying a long pole on their shoulders with live chickens strung upside down by their feet. I don’t think the chickens were enjoying it too much, but they did make quite a sight, especially when some tried to flap their way up to stand on the pole. The band, playing traditional San Juanito tunes on panflute, charango and kena, was dressed in wild costumes, with wigs and sunglasses.
The dancing was only interrupted once by the local bus trying to pass through on its rounds.
At around 2pm, the party started to mobilize. First went the dancers, then the band, which had now evolved to include a lot of brass instruments and drums, then the crowd. Four of the girls carried fruit baskets on their heads while we walked—I helped carry one for a few minutes and thought my neck was going to snap under the weigh if I wasn’t careful. We were all eating dust from the road, but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, even the little kids being dragged along by their moms.
We paused at every intersection along the way to do a special dance, then continued on our way to the community of La Banda. There was already a large crowd when we arrived, people from all of the surrounding communities that had already made their trek. Our dancers went to the middle of the big circle and danced for a few minutes to announce our arrival and the turning in of our chickens. There was a lot of community pride involved, and the mood stayed high even when it started raining. At that point, I figured it was a good time to make my exit since I had another party to get to.

The prized roster was held aloft and dancing.

It was still raining an hour later when I arrived at Kent’s house in Rey Loma for his goodbye party. He and his family had cooked a delicious roast chicken and mashed potatoes, and I brought some vegetables to steam. Paul and Kristen and their daughters brought a beautiful cake, and we all ate and chatted happily. We weren’t too sad because the real goodbyes wouldn’t come for another week.


On Sunday, my family and I threw another goodbye party for Kent at my house. Preparations began early, with the purchase and killing of three cuy (guinea pigs). Eating cuy is reserved for special occasions here, I think mainly because of the lengthy preparation involved. For animal lovers and faint of heart, please STOP READING and don’t look at the next few photos.
If you’re interested, first we plucked fur off the throat so the knife could cut cleanly,

bent the head back,
then slit the throat and let the blood drain out.
The cuy didn’t make any noise at all, which surprised me given the circumstances. I was also surprised by my reaction—I had been worried that I would cry, but it all seemed very well-executed and sensible so I felt ok about the whole thing. We were killing an animal to eat, even if it was a cute little furry one that I used to keep as a pet when I was young.

After the deed had been done, we dipped the bodies in boiling water to loosen the fur, then pulled it off in chunks. We held them for a few seconds over open flames to singe off any remaining fur, gutted them (ok, I didn’t participate in that part) then speared them with sticks lengthwise and roasted them over the fire.

MOM START READING AGAIN

While all of these efforts were taking place, Kent had sent me a text message inviting me to eat cuy at his house. Noooo, I thought. This was supposed to be a surprise going-away party, but now I had to make up an excuse about why I couldn’t come over, and try to think of a way to delay the eating of our cuy. I told him to come over to play Frisbee (the pretense for getting him over to our house) whenever he was done eating cuy.
As the hour approached, it started to rain, the cousins got hungry and ate, and my nerves were fried. Nothing was going according to plan. Such is life. When Kent arrived, we had a good time playing Frisbee, then one of the cousins got a bloody nose and we went home. The meal had turned out well, Kent’s suspicions were answered, and we were sent off to Quito with a whole extra cuy and mountain of potatoes. After eating cuy twice in one day, poor Kent just couldn’t eat any more. We searched the whole bus station for a deserving cuy recipient and finally settled on a janitor, who was psyched. Plenty of cuy to go around.

Coastal Adventures continued

Puerto Lopez was a charming medium-sized fishing town on the edge of Machalillas National Park. After hopping off the bus (still carrying our left-over milk) we walked across town to the beachfront hostels. We found an adorable bungalow called "Hostal Playa Sur" that reminded me of a beach house I went to as a kid. We bought some fancy ($8 bottle instead of $5 box) wine and cheese and sat on the second-story lanai to enjoy the sunset on the bay.

Puerto Lopez turned out to be our favorite place, with its fun but not overdone waterfront, amazing calamari, and friendly locals. There were lots of vendors selling giant conch shells and jewelry made from "spondylus", another big shellfish.

In the morning we walked down to the fish market, where the fishermen had recently arrived with the day's catch. Some guys were rolling their boats up the beach on two parallel logs (photo above) or cleaning fish, but most of the people there were just hanging out. Of course it wouldn't be complete without cumbia and reggaeton blaring from the speakers that ran off of generators.

The fisherman brought in all kinds of fish, from tuna to snapper. It was fun to see how the fresh seafood we'd been eating first got to shore.

I noticed this driver around town a few times; no door and no shirt seemed pretty ideal for life on the coast.

After Puerto Lopez, we headed 3 hours north to Manta, the capital of Manabi. It was a big city focused around the gorgeous beach and waterfront development. Kent and I had a fancy sushi dinner to celebrate his graduation from his masters program, and as a last hurrah of our coastal vacation. I have many fond memories from just a week, and realized once again what an incredibly diverse country Ecuador is. The 10 hour bus ride up to Quito took us through dry scrubland, deep green valleys carved by muddy rivers, and misty cloudforest. By the time we emerged through the clouds and glipsed the familiar Andes, I was completely entranced.

The first week back in Otavalo has been fine, nothing too notable. We played Jeopardy with the 5th and 6th graders as a review, and tried a more complicated coloring exercise with the 1st and 2nd graders. With two weeks to go before summer vacation, I'm looking forward to teaching the high-school kids and adults in July because I think they'll be more motivated and we'll be able to get into more complex topics.

As for the host family, half of them have what they jokingly refer to as the "gripe cuchina" (swine flu) but hopefully is no more than a common cold. The mama cat is due to give birth soon, which I'm excited about. I've started embroidering a shirt in the traditional style (lots of flowers and ruffles) for the Inti Raymi festival coming up in a few weeks. It will be a miracle if I finish in time. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to quit my day job to embroider full-time.

I miss you all and hope everyone is doing well!
Love,
Lauren

Going Coastal

Kent and I just got back from a week-long adventure on the coast. From Guayaquil to Manta, we thoroughly enjoyed the warm beaches, thatched bungalows and delicious seafood. It was just the break I needed.

We spent a night in Riobamba to break up the long bus ride south. It's a lovely colonial city with lots of beautiful architecture and the best lasagna! Maybe we were just hungry after travelling...

The Hotel Tren Dorado "Golden Train" was right across the plaza from the train station from which departs the famous Nariz del Diablo "Devil's Nose" ride.

The next morning we walked around the city and spotted many fresh chanchos like this one.
The six hour bus ride down from the sierra to Guayaquil was long and hot but afforded gorgeous views like this one.
Guayaquil was much safer and more attractive than I expected. We found a reasonable hotel close to the Malecon, the fancy boardwalk/urban development project the city carried out in 2000, and enjoyed shrimp dinners and...McDonald's sundaes for dessert. So decadent.

The Malecon streched for several kilometers along the river, and had many statues, lookout towers and sailboats to go along with its restaurants and stores.

Back at the uber-modern bus station, we boarded an air conditioned bus for Salinas, Ecuador's most famous and fancy beach resort area. The water was indeed crystal clear, the mansions tasteful, and the seafood excellent. We stayed in the Hostal Los Cocos in a nice second-story room. The only downfall of Salinas was the painful bee sting that I got on my finger while collecting shells on the beach, and the guy on coke that kept trying to get money from us (in a non-threatening way) after dinner.

A few hours farther north, we checked into one of Montañita's many hostels and Kent finished his master's thesis in a hammock. Yay! I ran into Zac Wass, a classmate of mine I hadn't seen from high school. It was fun to catch up with him and his Peruvian friend Adrian. The next morning I took Kent out for a private surf lesson, and he stood up! The waves were fun and the people were friendly.


In Las Tunas, we stayed in an Eco-Lodge called Azuluna, all bamboo with great kitchen where we made ourselves breakfast. It was also home to huge, incredibly soft dogs. We met a group of Canadian women finishing up a teaching practicum and some volunteers who were just finishing a wall as part of a water system for the town. The owner of Azuluna was also the president of the foundation that had connected all of the volunteers to the community.

Here I am with the milk we saved from breakfast and carried on the bus to Puerto Lopez, only 20 minutes north. Of course I spilled some on myself getting on the bus.

To be continued...

Haba Harvest in the Campo

Last Sunday I went with my host family to harvest "habas", a large bean with a distinctive flavor. We left the house at 7am with big blankets for harvesting and carrying down the habas, and some popcorn and beans packed for lunch. We ended up with several large sacks called quintales, which will be a major part of our diet for the next few months. Toasted habas, haba soup, mote de habas--you name it, we'll eat it. I think they're pretty tasty and full of protein.

On our way up, we met this friendly guy having a snack (from what I can tell that's all they do all day). The Ecuadorian news has been telling people to watch out for the swine flu by keeping their pigs far away, which doesn't make much sense since only the first case would have passed from pig to human. My family isn't worried about the swine flu, because they say that if you're afraid of an illness, you're more likely to get it.

After walking uphill for about half an hour, we arrived at the family's property where they had grown corn and habas. Papa Santos had already been up there working for an hour when we arrived, a work ethic that is very characteristic of him. If everyone in the family didn't contibute and work hard, it would be impossible for them to make ends meet. We spent about 4 hours winding our way up and down the rows plucking the habas off of knee-high plants, trying to keep time with each other so we could finish whole sections together before moving on to the next. At first I kept getting told to hurry up, or that I was leaving some on the bush (lose-lose situation) but then I got the hang of it and could hold my own.

The walk down went by faster than the walk up, even with the harvest on our backs. The same pig was still doing the same thing.

Once we got home, we sorted out the tender ones from the dry ones, then relaxed and played monopoly for a few hours. It was a fun day, and I really like the fact that my family grows and harvests most of the food they eat, even if it sometimes means lack of variety. I'm also glad they're so willing to let me participate and help them with daily activities, because that's how I begin to understand what life is really like here.

Weekend Adventure to Chota

Less than 2 hours north of Otavalo lies Chota, a dry, sunny valley inhabited almost exclusively by Afro-Ecuatorians. Decending thousands of feet in the bus, we saw orchards and steep valley walls with a river running through the center. Next we hopped on a bus to El Angel, climbing back up into the high paramo.

In El Angel, we stayed in this charming little hostel. There were about three restaurants in town and we had delicious roasted chicken at on of them.


The main cathedral in El Angel was impressively large for such a small town.

The next day we went to the nearby "El Calderon" hot springs, which were only lukewarm. The setting was incredible though.

We spent the second night at "Aruba", one of the many hotels with swimming pools lining the Chota Valley. There were tons of Ecuadorian tourists (and maybe some from nearby Colombia)

Back in Otavalo, we ate a second round of fanesca (the special pumpkin soup with 12 grains) with Kent's family. Kent and his host siblings Kuri and Kami are eating some ice cream the family made to sell in their adjacent store.

Out back, I got to hold one of the baby bunnies.
The stairs from Otavalo to Kent's house in Rey Loma are steep.

Otavalo from above, with Cotacachi Volcano partly covered.