Bus < Airplane

July 17th, 2010
Today my workshop group and I made marmalade! It was a surprisingly easy task. The best marmalade was by far the pineapple and carrot combination.
Afterwards a bunch of us took a trip to Otavalo, which on Saturdays has a huge open air market. This was like light to flies for gringos. And of course, with gringos (I am not a tourist, I live here now) around the prices go up. However, haggling is permitted and encouraged.
I found a very cool shirt like the indigenous people wear that I just had to have. The original price was $6, which is a hell of a deal compared to if you bought something like this in the states. But that did not stop me! I am a man on a mission, but more importantly I am man on tight budget. It was pretty easy to talk her down to $3. Which means she was still making profit off of it, so she must make a killing when she sells these to tourists at full price.
For lunch I ate a less than satisfying burger, but it also had ham on it, which was an interesting concept. All coffee here is instant. Have yet to see a percolator. After a few hours of wondering around the market we headed back on the bus ride. I slept the whole way; it is the closest man has come to time traveling.
It didn’t seem like much was going to happen tonight, so I locked myself in my room to play guitar for awhile. Around 8 o’clock, I got bored and went downstairs to see what the rest of the family was up too. Ping, Walter and Orlando asked me to come celebrate Juan Montalvo with them. Sure why not, could be interesting.

Juan María Montalvo Fiallos (April 13, 1832, Ambato – January 17, 1889, Paris) was an Ecuadorian author and essayist, generally thought to be one of Ecuador's best writers of the period. A political liberal, Montalvo's beliefs were marked by anti-clericism and a keen hatred for Ecuador's two caudillos that ruled during his life: Gabriel García Moreno and Ignacio de Veintemilla. After an issue of his book, El Cosmopolita, viciously attacked Moreno, Montalvo was exiled to Colombia, where he would write most of his later works. He was a dedicated champion of democracy, was said to have a lucid and inquisitive intellect and a strong, semi-romantic temperament. (Wikipedia)
Walter grabbed two wool ponchos which he and ping wore, and a cowhide drum which he carried. Next, Ping handed me his acoustic guitar and off went. Oh man, this is going to be fun, whatever it is.
We met friends of theirs in the main park of Cayambe. In total there were about 10-12 of us, 5 guitars, 1 mandolin, a pan flute, a drum and 4 pairs of the animal hair pants. Oh and a bottle of whiskey that got passed around a few times. At this point in time it seemed like everyone was waiting for something. I never found out what it was but after an hour we started walking down the middle of a street heading out of town (blocking one lane of traffic). Then the song broke out (we only played one all night, but the rhythm and lyrics varied). It was not terribly difficult to play on guitar, and one of the guys in the animal hair pants taught it to me.
We got a lot of stares at first from people as we paraded dancing, singing and playing music down the street. I thought it was because we were the only weirdos celebrating (turns out that is not the reason). About a half mile into our journey a much larger group of people heading the opposite way came into view. I recognized one of the men to be the suitor of one of the PC volunteers. When he saw me he had to look twice, in amazement or drunkenness not sure which. But no matter, because he insisted on pouring boxed wine (def not Black Box) down my throat while I still played. Good thing I had a water proof jacket on. The further out of town we headed, the more crowded it got.
Suddenly the group veers into a bar. Definition of bar: a place that sells beer and/or chicha. I saw Daniel another PC aspirante. He was a bit surprised to see me guitar in hand but before long was dancing around in our circle as we took over the room. He was there because his host mom was selling empanadas and invited him to come. Suddenly one of the women in our group was handed a bowl of chicha and a plate of pastries to serve us. Cool, the must be friends or something. After a while the group took to the streets again.
It was not a hundred yards before we passed 2 other groups and were in another bar. Then it dawned on me. If you have a band you get free drinks and sometimes food! Well hot dog, this festival rocks. The owner (presumed) of the bar came up to me as we were leaving with a drink in his hand. “Please, drink my beer. You are welcome here anytime gringo.” Then it hit me why we got more attention than other groups. Not only was I one of the few foreigners around, I was also playing, dancing and singing with a band.
So I decided I needed to step up my stage presence a little on the next walk. I led the group for a bit, doing some of my best Angus Young impressions http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4gNsRjHzV4&feature=related. I must say, definitely one of the best experiences I have had here.
We jammed for about four hours before we were all too tired. Thank the lord, my fingers nearly fell off. I was invited to do something similar to this in two weeks by one of the other guys. I think I have finally started to integrate.

Good night!

July 18th, Sunday fun day

Today I washed my clothes, yippie. Slightly more enjoyable this time around because I actually (kind of) knew what I was doing.
But before that fun, I was surprised during breakfast when my brother came in with a dead chicken, feathers and all. It scared the ba-jesus out of his 3 year old niece, I laughed. I figured it was what we would be eating for dinner (wrong). He asked me to help him feed the chickens, something I enjoy doing. So we went outside to the lot next door where most of the animals are. Side note, we have 70 chickens that live on the roof (used for food and to sell). So as I was tossing corn to the chickens (used for eggs) and El Capitan (used for kicking ass in the ring, he is 5-0) when I thought to myself, “the pigs sure are quiet.”
I am a curious fellow by nature, today I wished I wasn’t. When I looked over the wall into their pen I saw the three not-so-little pigs ripping through the carcass of the hen, feathers, feet and all. Step one; hold back vomit. Step two; keep watching to see if they eat feet. Yeah, they ate those as well. When the piggies were finished, the interior of their pen looked like someone force-fed a hand grenade to a chicken.
Dinner was a delish dish called Ceviche. I highly recommend this, simply a great and unchallenging dish. http://www.cookstr.com/recipes/ecuadorian-shrimp-ceviche here is a similar recipe!

Monday July 19, 2010

Today during our mid-training evaluations, we had a very special guest. The PC Regional Director for Latin America was in country for a week. He was a very honest man when he spoke about the faults of the Peace Corps. But was also very positive in how much he liked what we all were about to be doing. The way he spoke gave me confidence in the higher-ups of this organization. Not that I had not had confidence in them before, it is just that before this there was no face to the name.
The 1.5 hour bus ride from Cayambe to Quito was nothing compared to what lay ahead. The 10 hour ride from Quito to Cuenca was less than enjoyable. There were assigned seats on the bus, this we didn’t know (Curlee, Clinton and I). We were at the back of the bus all comfy, when the stewardess or whatever they are called on a bus came up and made us move to the front. I had to sit next to a shitty window that rattled and shook the entire way. At times it was quiet and others it drove me to the point of madness when it sounded like it was going to rattle off the bus.
Then there were times when the bus driver would take a turn to sharply and I am pretty sure at least three times only half the wheels were on the ground going around some hairpin turns.

If you come to visit me, take a plane. Unless that sounds like fun!