We walked into town to catch the bus for a day trip today. While we were waiting, a woman maybe 80 (or less, but it's hard to tell) in indigenous dress came up to us and asked where we were from. I told her and she asked if we would give her a gift. We were glad to, just because we were happy with the day and with our surroundings. She asked God to bless us and went on her way. It isn't hard to know which was the bigger gift.
We climbed into a bus with five others and went off to visit these two villages outside Cuenca. I realized with dismay as we left the house that the soles of my walking shoes were falling off. Providentially, I found a rubber band on the sidewalk to hold the worst one on. Not to worry, our guide said, we were going to a village renowned for shoes!
It was a beautiful journey up and out of the city, everything so green from the rain. We stopped first at a workshop where they make ikat fabric. It was so startling to see a process completely similar to the one I first saw in Laos, here 11,000 miles away. The techniques came with the first inhabitants. Amazing to think that they are so ancient. The second incredible thing is how much work goes into this fabric. They take cotton thread and wind it around and around between two slender sticks until they have a good amount, maybe a foot in height and 18 inches in width. Then they take fibers that they have stripped from the agave plant and wrap them tightly around various small sections of the thread so that they will not take up dye. Most of the dyes are made from natural things, like black walnut, indigo, tiny parasites of the cactus, seed pods, coal and much more. Making the dyes takes up to three weeks. The dye bath takes days, then all the agave strips must be untied, as many as 50 or even more for one batch. It makes my head spin and my eyes roll back in my head to think about it.
AFTER all this is done and the thread dries, it is threaded onto a loom, both the regular standing kind and the backstrap are used here. It can take three days or three months, depending on the fineness of the thread and the complexity of the pattern, to weave the cloth. Then a weaver makes a complex pattern by tying the fringes together in tiers. They do no exporting in this shop, everything is sold in country, and usually to buyers who come to them. We saw a wedding gift which was more than 100 years old hanging as a display, with the words "Republic of Ecuador" woven into the cloth in reverse, that is, the letters were formed by open space rather than thread. We asked if they have patterns or anything to help them, and they just tapped their temples. "It's all up here." I remembered the woman I met in Laos who said, "Show me a pattern, and I will be able to weave it for you." How they get a few blobs of white on yards and yards of thread to form birds, flowers, chickens--anything--is beyond me. My brain just was not constructed that way!
Afterwards, we visited an orchid farm. I spied right away a sign directing us to: "Respect and protect the trees and flowers. They are the hope of an environment in danger." It is a really beautiful and tranquil place, with waterfalls, fountains and a swimming pool (empty at the moment). They have more than 5,000 varieties there, four of which they have created themselves by cross-pollination. Five people pollinate the orchids by hand, harvest the seedlings and raise them for five years. You simply cannot believe the complexity of the work and the patience and fortitude it takes to propagate one orchid, and they grow thousands. A very shy young boy took us around and explained things to us. Afterwards we went into Gualaceo town and had a very nice lunch. The salad was simple and delicious--tomatoes, onion, cucumber, and avocado. It tasted so fresh--I have not eaten vegetables so fresh in many years--maybe fifty. Yum!
The system of building a plaza in the center of the town appeals to both of us greatly. It is usually filled with benches, trees, flowers, and people, providing a spot to rest, talk with friends, a place that is held in common and cared for communally. It is the beating heart of the town, and often quite beautiful. Every town we have visited so far participates in this tradition, going back to Greek and Roman times, maybe farther, as I have little idea of Asian history. In Gualaceo we saw a row of five women sitting on a bench weaving the "Panama" hats, which are actually indigenous to this place, not Panama. They were smiling, chatting and weaving, for the most part without looking at the hat. When they are done, the hats are not quite finished. The terminal ends are sticking out and the hat has not yet taken its final shape. All of that is done in Cuenca. The women were very friendly and pleasant. Vincent took their photos and we began to wander off. A man came up to Vincent and said, "Taking a picture costs a lot of money." So he left as well. It was not at all clear that the man was in any way related to any of the women. It appeared that he was just trying to take advantage of an opportunity, as he saw it.
Finally we visited Chordeleg, "the pottery village." When I was here in 2000, there was much more pottery, and the village seemed a lot poorer. Today, there are more than 70 jewelry shops selling gold and silver jewelry, with some of the most amazing silver filigree I have ever seen, even in the Philippines--a peacock six inches high with an 6x8 inch tail! An orchid plant with two flowers and some buds nearly 18 inches high, and more. We saw some designs which we think fair trade artisans could develop and looked inside the (very ornate) church, which was behind a huge iron grate. The wood carvings on the massive church doors are so lifelike and impressive. It appeared that the addition of the jewelry businesses has brought a lot of capital to Chordeleg. Everything appeared cleaner, brighter and in better repair than it was in 2000, and the giant statue made completely of large pots had been replaced with a more modern one with glass mosaic decorations.
Our guide, Sandra, narrated many stories and legends--the origin of the Cañari people, St. Santiago of Gualaceo, the collapse of two mountains in 1993 that dammed several rivers. The collapse occurred because the two mountains had been severely undermined by digging for gold, silver, rock for construction and other things. This was a purely manmade disaster, with the floodwaters rising to more than 80 meters--some say 120 meters--until the water started reaching Cuenca. The president belatedly ordered the military to dynamite the blockade, which made things even worse than before. We saw a beautiful house constructed of varnished wooden logs--the only one that had survived the flood. How? The owners had four large oil tanks secured to the house so that it floated. It appeared that a giant tree trunk had floated with it and landed in the new front yard! If you want to discover more about it, the flood is called La Josefina and Google will serve up the story without delay.
My teachers have all told me I use the exclamation point too much, and I do. The things we saw today simply require them! By the way, I got a beautiful pair of walking shoes in Gualaceo for $35. They fit and feel like gloves on my feet.
As we left Gualaceo, we told our guide we wanted to try the traditional beverage she had described--a mixture of pineapple and other fruits called "rosero." So we stopped on the way out and each bought a glass. I spied a couple of macaroons (called "cocada" here) in the case that were calling our names, and Vincent and I ate them with gusto. He said it was the best coconut thing he had ever put in his mouth. I might not go that far, but it was very, very good.
After all the sugar, we were mostly in a coma on the way home, but it was a good day. Tomorrow is our last day here, then off to Quito. At the moment we are planning to take the double-decker bus tour. It will be good to get an overview of the whole city and be able to integrate some of the experiences we have had here. We're very glad we did this as an introduction to Spanish and to Ecuador. Wish us luck!
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Friday, January 30, 2015
January 30 First Interview, Cuenca
January 30, 2015
A day like no other, our last day of Spanish school here in Cuenca. We brought little gifts with a card for our teachers--they have been very good to us! Yadira and I spent four hours working with the two past tenses and the indicative mood. I can now say things like, "Do it now!" As if--
We went for lunch with about 16 other students to a restaurant where they served a dish very special to Ecuadoreans (and Andeans in general, I believe): cuy. The ancient people, Incas, Cañaris, and all who came before raised guinea pigs for food. Perhaps they think it odd that we make pets of them. It was very difficult to spend the lunchtime with a roasted guinea pig facing me with open mouth and rodent-type front teeth (there are teeth, small ones, also inside the roof of the mouth). Facts you did't want to know, I am sure, and neither did I! Our vegetarian entree, however, was delicious.
Afterwards, we went back to the school to check on e-mail and found our first interview assignment. I called to set it up for Sunday, and before I could suggest a time, the artisan responded: I will meet you in half an hour at this address. Confounded, unprepared and ever-so-slightly nervous, Vincent and I took a taxi there and waited a few minutes, perhaps less than ten. A truck drove up as we stood outside the gate with two broadly grinning people inside. Any fears I may have had vanished instantly. They welcomed us in with open arms, introduced themselves (Carlos and Blanca), and took us directly to the store room to see what they produce. They create the most lifelike turtles and other things out of marble and onyx and sell them to many shops around the world. They also have their own small booth in a co-op store here in Cuenca. A small boy (6) greeted us as we entered the storeroom, their grandson, Carlos, Jr., or Carlito, as he is called. WHAT a salesman he was. Apparently he sometimes helps out in their booth, and he has quite a spiel, all in Spanish, worked out about how nice these turtles like the ones in the Galapagos would be in your home--he rattled on nonstop for at least five minutes, while we stood with mouths agape. Very impressive communication skills that one has.
I hammered away at my Spanish, trying to shape sentences, cutting here, carving away there, looking up words as best I could with my dwindling eyesight and a dictionary with the smallest print ever invented. You could print half the Bible on two pages with that type! Vincent took photos of everything and helped me frame the questions. Because we didn't know when we left the house this morning that we would be interviewing artisans, we didn't have our voice recorder, so we slogged on through thickets of "bastante" and mysterious verb forms. They were such lovely people! They were very, very, VERY patient with us, and at one point it seemed they had not been told we were coming nor why we were here! Imagine welcoming two foreign strangers into your home, answering their questions, waiting until they ask you, "Do you have questions for us?" to say, "How are you related to Chris and Minga Fair Trade?" Just exceedingly kind and generous! Blanca offered us some very delicious fruit juice and as we were finishing, asked us if we wanted to stay for coffee. We were both just blown away by their kindness.
They have four sons (or three sons and a daughter), one of whom is in the U.S. working right now. We asked how they get ideas for new designs and they said that they mostly came from the businesses who order from them. They will make anything they are asked to. If only they had sufficient orders! And this is a common theme throughout fair trade land: How can we get more orders? In the case of the turtles, Carlos said he could make 100 4-cm. turtles in four days, and 100 8-cm. turtles in three. In other words, for the tiny ones, it takes MORE work--a third more time--to make the smaller ones, yet their price in the market is much, much lower. It's like the Chinese finger-trap--if you make them larger, you can sell them for more, and they are less work, but people always want the smaller ones with the lower price. At this point, we don't know how to be helpful, but we promised to report all they said to the U.S. in the hope that some satisfactory solutions might be found.
We asked what they would like customers in the U.S. and Europe to know about them and their work. Each of them replied in different ways that the work with stone is very difficult. The dust from carving and sanding gets into the workers' lungs and poisons them, therefore they have to wear masks. The stone is very, very heavy, and they have to carry their products in boxes to the local shops or the post office for sale or shipment to other countries. They would like customers to know that the work is difficult and that a lot more goes into it than can be imagined from looking at the finished piece.
They have a truck which uses a lot of gas but is strong enough to carry the weight, but probably needs to be replaced or at least repaired. Their house is tiny by N. American standards, but beautiful with an open courtyard in the center where it seems they do a lot of the work. The open air reduces the dust, but increases the cold in the winter, which affects Carlos' bones, he says. I think he probably has arthritis from all the heavy labor he has done. Before they began the stone carving, they were both language arts teachers in a local high school. They needed extra income to raise their four children, so Carlos apprenticed himself (probably at about age 25 or 30) to some local stone carvers. He didn't have to pay them for his learning, and when he got good enough, they paid him a little. He started working with fair trade he thinks about six or seven years ago (I think it is more, because I was selling his turtles before that, but who knows?) He didn't recognize the term, "fair trade," though.
When I explained the idea to him, he became very animated, and I think I lost a lot in the translation, but what was clear is that they don't have enough orders to sustain themselves on the stonework alone. When I explained to them that we wanted to know their history so that we could sell more of their work, they both were happy. I told them that we in the fair trade world were very aware of how hard they work, and that it inspires us to work harder, even though we still do not work as hard as they do. I promised them both I would do my best to tell their story and to help them sell more stone carvings. We parted with smiles, tears and hugs, and Carlos kindly drove us back to the city center in his truck--this after he had driven back from the airport to meet with us at his home--twice across the city during rush hour. On the way, I explained to Carlos that he was our first interviewee, and that we thought that he had been informed that we would be coming and asking questions and why. I said we were so grateful for their kind reception, even though it seemed that they had NOT been told much at all beforehand. He waved it all away and said the pleasure was his.
I asked him how he thought the interview had gone, since it was our first. He replied he thought it had gone very well. He did wonder why I spoke better Spanish than Vincent, and I explained that I had had more instruction. I think he might possibly have wondered why the wife was doing all the talking and the husband all the picture-taking, but he was kind enough, if so, not to divulge this.
All in all, this interview, more than anything else, even the assurances of my Spanish instructor, made us both feel hopeful about the success of the project. It went very well--we had only the camera and my notebook and pen and as much Spanish as I could cobble together in ten days. The reason it went so well is that the artisans were so kind, so helpful, so eager to share their work and their lives. I am grateful afresh for all the wonderful people we have met through being involved in fair trade. It truly is good work, gracias a Díos.
A day like no other, our last day of Spanish school here in Cuenca. We brought little gifts with a card for our teachers--they have been very good to us! Yadira and I spent four hours working with the two past tenses and the indicative mood. I can now say things like, "Do it now!" As if--
We went for lunch with about 16 other students to a restaurant where they served a dish very special to Ecuadoreans (and Andeans in general, I believe): cuy. The ancient people, Incas, Cañaris, and all who came before raised guinea pigs for food. Perhaps they think it odd that we make pets of them. It was very difficult to spend the lunchtime with a roasted guinea pig facing me with open mouth and rodent-type front teeth (there are teeth, small ones, also inside the roof of the mouth). Facts you did't want to know, I am sure, and neither did I! Our vegetarian entree, however, was delicious.
Afterwards, we went back to the school to check on e-mail and found our first interview assignment. I called to set it up for Sunday, and before I could suggest a time, the artisan responded: I will meet you in half an hour at this address. Confounded, unprepared and ever-so-slightly nervous, Vincent and I took a taxi there and waited a few minutes, perhaps less than ten. A truck drove up as we stood outside the gate with two broadly grinning people inside. Any fears I may have had vanished instantly. They welcomed us in with open arms, introduced themselves (Carlos and Blanca), and took us directly to the store room to see what they produce. They create the most lifelike turtles and other things out of marble and onyx and sell them to many shops around the world. They also have their own small booth in a co-op store here in Cuenca. A small boy (6) greeted us as we entered the storeroom, their grandson, Carlos, Jr., or Carlito, as he is called. WHAT a salesman he was. Apparently he sometimes helps out in their booth, and he has quite a spiel, all in Spanish, worked out about how nice these turtles like the ones in the Galapagos would be in your home--he rattled on nonstop for at least five minutes, while we stood with mouths agape. Very impressive communication skills that one has.
I hammered away at my Spanish, trying to shape sentences, cutting here, carving away there, looking up words as best I could with my dwindling eyesight and a dictionary with the smallest print ever invented. You could print half the Bible on two pages with that type! Vincent took photos of everything and helped me frame the questions. Because we didn't know when we left the house this morning that we would be interviewing artisans, we didn't have our voice recorder, so we slogged on through thickets of "bastante" and mysterious verb forms. They were such lovely people! They were very, very, VERY patient with us, and at one point it seemed they had not been told we were coming nor why we were here! Imagine welcoming two foreign strangers into your home, answering their questions, waiting until they ask you, "Do you have questions for us?" to say, "How are you related to Chris and Minga Fair Trade?" Just exceedingly kind and generous! Blanca offered us some very delicious fruit juice and as we were finishing, asked us if we wanted to stay for coffee. We were both just blown away by their kindness.
They have four sons (or three sons and a daughter), one of whom is in the U.S. working right now. We asked how they get ideas for new designs and they said that they mostly came from the businesses who order from them. They will make anything they are asked to. If only they had sufficient orders! And this is a common theme throughout fair trade land: How can we get more orders? In the case of the turtles, Carlos said he could make 100 4-cm. turtles in four days, and 100 8-cm. turtles in three. In other words, for the tiny ones, it takes MORE work--a third more time--to make the smaller ones, yet their price in the market is much, much lower. It's like the Chinese finger-trap--if you make them larger, you can sell them for more, and they are less work, but people always want the smaller ones with the lower price. At this point, we don't know how to be helpful, but we promised to report all they said to the U.S. in the hope that some satisfactory solutions might be found.
We asked what they would like customers in the U.S. and Europe to know about them and their work. Each of them replied in different ways that the work with stone is very difficult. The dust from carving and sanding gets into the workers' lungs and poisons them, therefore they have to wear masks. The stone is very, very heavy, and they have to carry their products in boxes to the local shops or the post office for sale or shipment to other countries. They would like customers to know that the work is difficult and that a lot more goes into it than can be imagined from looking at the finished piece.
They have a truck which uses a lot of gas but is strong enough to carry the weight, but probably needs to be replaced or at least repaired. Their house is tiny by N. American standards, but beautiful with an open courtyard in the center where it seems they do a lot of the work. The open air reduces the dust, but increases the cold in the winter, which affects Carlos' bones, he says. I think he probably has arthritis from all the heavy labor he has done. Before they began the stone carving, they were both language arts teachers in a local high school. They needed extra income to raise their four children, so Carlos apprenticed himself (probably at about age 25 or 30) to some local stone carvers. He didn't have to pay them for his learning, and when he got good enough, they paid him a little. He started working with fair trade he thinks about six or seven years ago (I think it is more, because I was selling his turtles before that, but who knows?) He didn't recognize the term, "fair trade," though.
When I explained the idea to him, he became very animated, and I think I lost a lot in the translation, but what was clear is that they don't have enough orders to sustain themselves on the stonework alone. When I explained to them that we wanted to know their history so that we could sell more of their work, they both were happy. I told them that we in the fair trade world were very aware of how hard they work, and that it inspires us to work harder, even though we still do not work as hard as they do. I promised them both I would do my best to tell their story and to help them sell more stone carvings. We parted with smiles, tears and hugs, and Carlos kindly drove us back to the city center in his truck--this after he had driven back from the airport to meet with us at his home--twice across the city during rush hour. On the way, I explained to Carlos that he was our first interviewee, and that we thought that he had been informed that we would be coming and asking questions and why. I said we were so grateful for their kind reception, even though it seemed that they had NOT been told much at all beforehand. He waved it all away and said the pleasure was his.
I asked him how he thought the interview had gone, since it was our first. He replied he thought it had gone very well. He did wonder why I spoke better Spanish than Vincent, and I explained that I had had more instruction. I think he might possibly have wondered why the wife was doing all the talking and the husband all the picture-taking, but he was kind enough, if so, not to divulge this.
All in all, this interview, more than anything else, even the assurances of my Spanish instructor, made us both feel hopeful about the success of the project. It went very well--we had only the camera and my notebook and pen and as much Spanish as I could cobble together in ten days. The reason it went so well is that the artisans were so kind, so helpful, so eager to share their work and their lives. I am grateful afresh for all the wonderful people we have met through being involved in fair trade. It truly is good work, gracias a Díos.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
January 29 "Keep On Pushing Back the Dark"
Yadira and I practiced conversation for two hours this morning! A very engrossing and ultimately inspiring conversation it was, too. She is a social worker and has worked for the past five years or so for the government. She has seen the dark realities of poverty and racism, the underbelly of alcoholism, drug abuse, child abuse and violence of our unequal system. It hurts her so much to see the tiny children with bruises, in all their innocence looking out at a world that seems to care nothing at all for them. She sometimes asks God why He allows such things, though she knows God is responding with another question--why do you DO them? It is hard sometimes not to despair, not to feel alone, not to feel hopeless about things ever being better.
And so, we took a trip around my "holy stones"--the images and words that those who have gone before have set out as beacons to show the way. As we touched each one, the tears came--for both of us--the darkness so great, so overwhelming. Yet it has never been able to extinguish the light. We might believe it will be extinguished soon, that the darkness is stronger, but the light continues to shine. She gave as examples her father and his older brother. Her mother died when she was ten. He has been responsible for her and her many siblings ever since, taking care of them, being tender with them, being a father. She feels so lucky when she looks at the children she worked with and their parents lost in violence, addiction and suffering. She takes her children to see how the other children have to live so that they will not take their "luck" for granted. Her uncle raised his 8 siblings, caring for them after their mother died when he was thirteen. In spite of his belief that "to be happy, one must not know anything," those 8 children came to adulthood, knowing they were cared for and had a roof, food and beds.
One of my touchstones is the quotation from Martin Luther King, Jr., someone who certainly had experience in pushing back the dark (in the words of a popular Christian song). "The arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice." (It sounds lovelier in Spanish). In spite of the darkness of loss of parents, poverty, and many other obstacles, people manage to do what they can to make things better for everyone. God takes all that we do and weaves it into a beautiful tapestry--here Yadira gestured with her hands. We cannot see it except as an image in our minds, but it is there and will be there and has always been there. We are simply a part of the universe wanting to create itself whole. All that we have to do is begin, God will provide all the assistance we need to make things as much better as we can make them, then take our efforts and weave them into the whole.
Moreover, each person influences at least ten other people, who in turn each influence ten and so on. When those around us see that what we do is making things better, they are inspired themselves to do what they can. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never been--and will never be--able to put it out. When capitalism and individualism come to their necessary dead ends, it will not be the end of US. There are better ways to care for the needs of everyone--money is not an end in itself, it isn't even real. Many of the abuses fostered by the current system (so Yadira and I think, you may form your own opinion) stem from confusing money with well-being, even health. The system itself is built to foster over-consumption, inequality and poverty, selfishness and ignorance of others. It is unsustainable. What we do in the meantime, as history bends ever closer to justice, is think of new ideas.
For example, today we spoke of neighborhood newspapers, in which we could share ideas for cooperation to make a better neighborhood (not the vigilantism of the past, but fresh ideas for creating something better than we now have), a store to which people could bring unwanted possessions and take away things they need, staffed by volunteers from the neighborhood. There are many more such ideas floating around waiting to be snatched up and employed. No one solution will be enough, we need many local solutions, and many discussions as we change our minds from within. With tears in our eyes, we vowed silently to begin in our own little corners. I probably lost ten pounds of worry this morning!
Afterwards we spent two hours going over vocabulary words that I might need in the artisan interviews--materials and processes of crafts like weaving and carving. It was quite stimulating, as I began thinking a little bit in Spanish during that time. Immersion has begun!
Vincent and I went to a vegetarian restaurant in the city center this afternoon called Paradise (Paraiso). It is one of several. For $2.20 per person, we had a very nice meal which Vincent loved. He couldn't get over the value. Afterwards, we met with Carlos, who demonstrated and explained the three types of Andean musical instruments. Villages people, remember the charangos? He had a real one, made of the armadillo shell, an antique, as they are mostly made of wood nowadays. He is a skilled string player and also very good with the flutes (quenas) and panflutes. In addition to his teaching, he has his own band. Both of us thoroughly enjoyed this exploration of a new kind of music. Afterwards he brought us to the strangest "museum of art" I've ever seen, I don't know about Vincent. It was full of bizarre representations of the grossest kind, but the people of Cuenca are stoutly defending its existence. It has become a symbol of free speech in a somewhat repressed society. Carlos said even his mother, who started to pray as soon as she walked through the door, accompanied him to the protests to prevent it being shut down. "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." That's the general attitude. The authorities, of course, think it a blemish on the body politic and want to terminate it. A bit difficult to do, since it is in a private home!
Afterwards, Carlos brought us to the university grounds where we saw many types of birds, including the ever-present picaflores (hummingbirds), flowers and a stunning fountain created by the ceramic artist Eduardo Vega more than ten feet tall entitled "Tree of Life." (Árbol de la Vida) We were simply overcome by the power of this creation, the women at the base of the tree, the amazing colors--terra cotta, turquoise, green, orange, the sound of the fountains bespeaking life to the ears as the picture did to the eyes. Surrounding us the whole time was the amazing variety and vividness of the natural world, the air so clear, birdsong chiming through the sounds of traffic, the liquid sounds of spoken Spanish, a couple embracing on the sidewalk.
This is such a spiritual place, so beautiful the trees, green valleys, mountains, flowers, rushing rivers (there are four in Cuenca), the hanging houses over the river Tomebamba. Our spirits are first overwhelmed with beauty, then lifted, refreshed, encouraged.
It was just such a fun afternoon. We really appreciate our teachers, our hosts, all who have worked so hard to make us welcome and help us acclimatize to Cuenca and to Ecuador. To them we say, "Gracias, and keep on pushing back the dark."
And so, we took a trip around my "holy stones"--the images and words that those who have gone before have set out as beacons to show the way. As we touched each one, the tears came--for both of us--the darkness so great, so overwhelming. Yet it has never been able to extinguish the light. We might believe it will be extinguished soon, that the darkness is stronger, but the light continues to shine. She gave as examples her father and his older brother. Her mother died when she was ten. He has been responsible for her and her many siblings ever since, taking care of them, being tender with them, being a father. She feels so lucky when she looks at the children she worked with and their parents lost in violence, addiction and suffering. She takes her children to see how the other children have to live so that they will not take their "luck" for granted. Her uncle raised his 8 siblings, caring for them after their mother died when he was thirteen. In spite of his belief that "to be happy, one must not know anything," those 8 children came to adulthood, knowing they were cared for and had a roof, food and beds.
One of my touchstones is the quotation from Martin Luther King, Jr., someone who certainly had experience in pushing back the dark (in the words of a popular Christian song). "The arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice." (It sounds lovelier in Spanish). In spite of the darkness of loss of parents, poverty, and many other obstacles, people manage to do what they can to make things better for everyone. God takes all that we do and weaves it into a beautiful tapestry--here Yadira gestured with her hands. We cannot see it except as an image in our minds, but it is there and will be there and has always been there. We are simply a part of the universe wanting to create itself whole. All that we have to do is begin, God will provide all the assistance we need to make things as much better as we can make them, then take our efforts and weave them into the whole.
Moreover, each person influences at least ten other people, who in turn each influence ten and so on. When those around us see that what we do is making things better, they are inspired themselves to do what they can. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never been--and will never be--able to put it out. When capitalism and individualism come to their necessary dead ends, it will not be the end of US. There are better ways to care for the needs of everyone--money is not an end in itself, it isn't even real. Many of the abuses fostered by the current system (so Yadira and I think, you may form your own opinion) stem from confusing money with well-being, even health. The system itself is built to foster over-consumption, inequality and poverty, selfishness and ignorance of others. It is unsustainable. What we do in the meantime, as history bends ever closer to justice, is think of new ideas.
For example, today we spoke of neighborhood newspapers, in which we could share ideas for cooperation to make a better neighborhood (not the vigilantism of the past, but fresh ideas for creating something better than we now have), a store to which people could bring unwanted possessions and take away things they need, staffed by volunteers from the neighborhood. There are many more such ideas floating around waiting to be snatched up and employed. No one solution will be enough, we need many local solutions, and many discussions as we change our minds from within. With tears in our eyes, we vowed silently to begin in our own little corners. I probably lost ten pounds of worry this morning!
Afterwards we spent two hours going over vocabulary words that I might need in the artisan interviews--materials and processes of crafts like weaving and carving. It was quite stimulating, as I began thinking a little bit in Spanish during that time. Immersion has begun!
Vincent and I went to a vegetarian restaurant in the city center this afternoon called Paradise (Paraiso). It is one of several. For $2.20 per person, we had a very nice meal which Vincent loved. He couldn't get over the value. Afterwards, we met with Carlos, who demonstrated and explained the three types of Andean musical instruments. Villages people, remember the charangos? He had a real one, made of the armadillo shell, an antique, as they are mostly made of wood nowadays. He is a skilled string player and also very good with the flutes (quenas) and panflutes. In addition to his teaching, he has his own band. Both of us thoroughly enjoyed this exploration of a new kind of music. Afterwards he brought us to the strangest "museum of art" I've ever seen, I don't know about Vincent. It was full of bizarre representations of the grossest kind, but the people of Cuenca are stoutly defending its existence. It has become a symbol of free speech in a somewhat repressed society. Carlos said even his mother, who started to pray as soon as she walked through the door, accompanied him to the protests to prevent it being shut down. "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." That's the general attitude. The authorities, of course, think it a blemish on the body politic and want to terminate it. A bit difficult to do, since it is in a private home!
Afterwards, Carlos brought us to the university grounds where we saw many types of birds, including the ever-present picaflores (hummingbirds), flowers and a stunning fountain created by the ceramic artist Eduardo Vega more than ten feet tall entitled "Tree of Life." (Árbol de la Vida) We were simply overcome by the power of this creation, the women at the base of the tree, the amazing colors--terra cotta, turquoise, green, orange, the sound of the fountains bespeaking life to the ears as the picture did to the eyes. Surrounding us the whole time was the amazing variety and vividness of the natural world, the air so clear, birdsong chiming through the sounds of traffic, the liquid sounds of spoken Spanish, a couple embracing on the sidewalk.
This is such a spiritual place, so beautiful the trees, green valleys, mountains, flowers, rushing rivers (there are four in Cuenca), the hanging houses over the river Tomebamba. Our spirits are first overwhelmed with beauty, then lifted, refreshed, encouraged.
It was just such a fun afternoon. We really appreciate our teachers, our hosts, all who have worked so hard to make us welcome and help us acclimatize to Cuenca and to Ecuador. To them we say, "Gracias, and keep on pushing back the dark."
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
January 28 Ora Pro Nobis
The end of our schooling is drawing near and we are flogging the books to learn as much as we can. Today was cool and overcast, with a bit of rain in the afternoon (a torrent at one point, but we were inside!) In the morning, Yadira and I had an extensive discussion of how to ask questions of the artesans. I asked her if she thought I had a chance at communicating with them at the level of my Spanish, and she said yes. That was comforting. She took me this morning to a shop where the "Panama" hats are made from a long grass called pajatoquilla. They are not Panama hats--are and have always been Ecuadorean. However, when the Panama Canal was built, the engineers, who had previously been working in Ecuador, were wearing these hats and everyone wanted one of those "Panama" hats the canal engineers were wearing. They are to all intents and purposes nearly indestructible.
It was fun to go through the little museum and see how the hats are made, mostly in the homes of indigenous women hereabouts and then finished (ironed, trimmed, etc.) in the shop. As we were leaving the shop, we espied an indigenous woman sitting on a sofa in the anteroom weaving away on a small pajatoquilla basket. Yadira asked if we could watch, we asked a few questions about how she had started in this trade. She had been taught in a convento of priests 30 years ago when she was quite young. It seems to have been an effort of the church to provide work for poor indigenous people. At this point, her whole family including in-laws are making a living weaving the straw.
As we were starting to go, a businesswoman in suit and high heels came through the front door and the weaver said, "Buenas tardes," good afternoon. The woman did not reply, snapped at the weaver that she would not be paid today, even though she had delivered her finished work previously. The weaver protested, but the woman did not listen. The weaver had the last word though--all she said was, "Don't be mean," to the departing back of the employee. This whole exchange was very upsetting to Yadira and to me as well. I was glad I had resisted the impulse to buy anything in this shop.
The weaver seemed to take it in stride, though, with a philosophical shrug, but this kind of poor treatment is the reason fair trade was started 70 years ago, and the reason I continue with it today.
All the way back, Yadira and I continued our discussion of prejudice and injustice that we began on Monday and concluded, as before, that we must give respect to all people.
Vincent and I had a nice lunch in the place YuYú had brought us to on Saturday and then went with Carlos to the modern art museum. Carlos switches back and forth between English and Spanish so smoothly that I think he must have both sides of his brain working at once. We really enjoyed the paintings that were there--and there were three patios as well! The building had seen many uses in its long life, just prior to the installation of the museum, the last previous being as a sanatorium for alcoholics. As in all the former colonial countries with which I am familiar, alcoholism is a huge problem here, and the inmates were punished cruelly in many ways, including being dunked in a cold bath before dawn. We thought about this as we walked back--how universal is this story: powerful conquerors destroy the civilization of those they conquer, then are in turn destroyed by someone else.
We continue to do what little we can to change ourselves, change our thinking, change our actions so that we can contribute as much blessing to the world as we possibly can. Eventually we hope, small things will add up. We remembered Martin Luther King, Jr.'s saying--"the arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice."
Ora pro nobis in Latin is "pray for us." We welcome your kind thoughts and prayers as we prepare to visit and interview artisans about their struggle for the basic goods most of us have taken for granted all our lives. Carlos said about the indigenes struggling to live under Spanish rule, "We cannot imagine how much pain they dealt with--we have never worked so hard, nor felt so much pain." God bless us all and help us to change this tired old world which is nonetheless so beautiful and fresh in each morning, despite all the harm we can do.
It was fun to go through the little museum and see how the hats are made, mostly in the homes of indigenous women hereabouts and then finished (ironed, trimmed, etc.) in the shop. As we were leaving the shop, we espied an indigenous woman sitting on a sofa in the anteroom weaving away on a small pajatoquilla basket. Yadira asked if we could watch, we asked a few questions about how she had started in this trade. She had been taught in a convento of priests 30 years ago when she was quite young. It seems to have been an effort of the church to provide work for poor indigenous people. At this point, her whole family including in-laws are making a living weaving the straw.
As we were starting to go, a businesswoman in suit and high heels came through the front door and the weaver said, "Buenas tardes," good afternoon. The woman did not reply, snapped at the weaver that she would not be paid today, even though she had delivered her finished work previously. The weaver protested, but the woman did not listen. The weaver had the last word though--all she said was, "Don't be mean," to the departing back of the employee. This whole exchange was very upsetting to Yadira and to me as well. I was glad I had resisted the impulse to buy anything in this shop.
The weaver seemed to take it in stride, though, with a philosophical shrug, but this kind of poor treatment is the reason fair trade was started 70 years ago, and the reason I continue with it today.
All the way back, Yadira and I continued our discussion of prejudice and injustice that we began on Monday and concluded, as before, that we must give respect to all people.
Vincent and I had a nice lunch in the place YuYú had brought us to on Saturday and then went with Carlos to the modern art museum. Carlos switches back and forth between English and Spanish so smoothly that I think he must have both sides of his brain working at once. We really enjoyed the paintings that were there--and there were three patios as well! The building had seen many uses in its long life, just prior to the installation of the museum, the last previous being as a sanatorium for alcoholics. As in all the former colonial countries with which I am familiar, alcoholism is a huge problem here, and the inmates were punished cruelly in many ways, including being dunked in a cold bath before dawn. We thought about this as we walked back--how universal is this story: powerful conquerors destroy the civilization of those they conquer, then are in turn destroyed by someone else.
We continue to do what little we can to change ourselves, change our thinking, change our actions so that we can contribute as much blessing to the world as we possibly can. Eventually we hope, small things will add up. We remembered Martin Luther King, Jr.'s saying--"the arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice."
Ora pro nobis in Latin is "pray for us." We welcome your kind thoughts and prayers as we prepare to visit and interview artisans about their struggle for the basic goods most of us have taken for granted all our lives. Carlos said about the indigenes struggling to live under Spanish rule, "We cannot imagine how much pain they dealt with--we have never worked so hard, nor felt so much pain." God bless us all and help us to change this tired old world which is nonetheless so beautiful and fresh in each morning, despite all the harm we can do.
January 27 Tuesday: Discrimination
In the morning, Susanne had a conversation with her teacher, Yadira, about the discrimination that exists here against black people, indigenous, the poor, Colombians, and many more stereotypes. Yadira concluded that her father had taught her that we must have respect for all people, because they are people. I think today was the first day I began to feel better (and also to eat a little).
Vincent worked on his alfabeto and pronunciation, and he is coming on very quickly. He likes Cuenca very much. When we broke for lunch, we walked home to Monica's house and took a short nap. When we awoke, torrential (and I mean cataclysmic) rain was falling, so we took a taxi to school rather than be drowned. It took longer in the taxi (40 minutes) than it does to walk there, but it only cost $2.50!
When we got there, Carlos took us to some shops which had three patios, remnants of the houses of rich Spanish landowners--the first patio (an indoor atrium) was for animals, the second for laundry, and the third for cooking. The whole house was built in galleries with balconies around these patios. One of the decorations was traditionally to make patterns in the stone with the vertebrae of cattle. As we walked around the city, he showed us the layers of the city beneath the modern shops, cars, trucks, lights. There are Spanish colonial buildings (never more than two stories), Republican buildings (since the early days of the Republic of Ecuador), building with Moorish influence, made from marmol (marble) or adobe, the colonial ones very simple, the Republican ones quite ornate. He related how the Spanish lived in ghettoes in the center of the city, afraid of backlash from the newly freed populace. Somehow that morphed and developed into the current social structure, which is that the descendants of a few families (of Catholic priests!) are at the top and the indigenous people at the bottom.
As he explained what the social structure was like in colonial times (extremely feudal, with the landowner owning all the indigenous who lived on "his" land and treating them essentially like serfs or even slaves with no basic rights. He noted that every two blocks in Cuenca, there was a church in the beginning of the city. I asked why. His reply: for control of the people. We forget walking around this rather modern, if old, city that it was once occupied territory, the possibility of revolt ever present.
Because of the church's teaching, there is no sex education whatever in Cuenca. As a consequence, the average age of marriage is 16-18. The teens know nothing about sex, experiment with each other until the girl becomes pregnant and then the shamed father forces the two into marriage. Two to three years later, after the baby(ies) is/born, they divorce. By then, the church's teaching has lost its force for them as they are now adults and no longer subject to their parents. Machismo is here, though not as strong as some places in Latin America. Carlos thinks it is losing its hold as Ecuadoreans are exposed more to people from other countries with less conservative ideas. It shows itself in things like domestic abuse (the plaza de la madre was originally set up to serve as refuge for battered spouses), inequality in wages and more. There are very defined roles, especially among the people in the country, where there is less education. The men do the heavy farm work, the women help with that work and do everything else. Carlos noted that although there is homosexuality here, it is not accepted, and always hidden. "You would never see two men holding hands here," he said. He is grateful for the diversity represented by the many foreign visitors, because it is helping Ecuadoreans look outside their "square minds." I myself think that repressive family structures may be logical (if odious) reactions to oppressive social structures which were created for purposes of controlling the subjugated.
On the way home we re-visited the Plaza of the Flowers just to take in all the colors and lovely, lovely smells. We brought some beautiful pink roses home for our hostess, along with a bit of peace in our hearts.
OUR minds were spinning at the end of the day with all the lessons, both in Spanish and local culture. We need to sleep to integrate it all. Buenas noches!
Vincent worked on his alfabeto and pronunciation, and he is coming on very quickly. He likes Cuenca very much. When we broke for lunch, we walked home to Monica's house and took a short nap. When we awoke, torrential (and I mean cataclysmic) rain was falling, so we took a taxi to school rather than be drowned. It took longer in the taxi (40 minutes) than it does to walk there, but it only cost $2.50!
When we got there, Carlos took us to some shops which had three patios, remnants of the houses of rich Spanish landowners--the first patio (an indoor atrium) was for animals, the second for laundry, and the third for cooking. The whole house was built in galleries with balconies around these patios. One of the decorations was traditionally to make patterns in the stone with the vertebrae of cattle. As we walked around the city, he showed us the layers of the city beneath the modern shops, cars, trucks, lights. There are Spanish colonial buildings (never more than two stories), Republican buildings (since the early days of the Republic of Ecuador), building with Moorish influence, made from marmol (marble) or adobe, the colonial ones very simple, the Republican ones quite ornate. He related how the Spanish lived in ghettoes in the center of the city, afraid of backlash from the newly freed populace. Somehow that morphed and developed into the current social structure, which is that the descendants of a few families (of Catholic priests!) are at the top and the indigenous people at the bottom.
As he explained what the social structure was like in colonial times (extremely feudal, with the landowner owning all the indigenous who lived on "his" land and treating them essentially like serfs or even slaves with no basic rights. He noted that every two blocks in Cuenca, there was a church in the beginning of the city. I asked why. His reply: for control of the people. We forget walking around this rather modern, if old, city that it was once occupied territory, the possibility of revolt ever present.
Because of the church's teaching, there is no sex education whatever in Cuenca. As a consequence, the average age of marriage is 16-18. The teens know nothing about sex, experiment with each other until the girl becomes pregnant and then the shamed father forces the two into marriage. Two to three years later, after the baby(ies) is/born, they divorce. By then, the church's teaching has lost its force for them as they are now adults and no longer subject to their parents. Machismo is here, though not as strong as some places in Latin America. Carlos thinks it is losing its hold as Ecuadoreans are exposed more to people from other countries with less conservative ideas. It shows itself in things like domestic abuse (the plaza de la madre was originally set up to serve as refuge for battered spouses), inequality in wages and more. There are very defined roles, especially among the people in the country, where there is less education. The men do the heavy farm work, the women help with that work and do everything else. Carlos noted that although there is homosexuality here, it is not accepted, and always hidden. "You would never see two men holding hands here," he said. He is grateful for the diversity represented by the many foreign visitors, because it is helping Ecuadoreans look outside their "square minds." I myself think that repressive family structures may be logical (if odious) reactions to oppressive social structures which were created for purposes of controlling the subjugated.
On the way home we re-visited the Plaza of the Flowers just to take in all the colors and lovely, lovely smells. We brought some beautiful pink roses home for our hostess, along with a bit of peace in our hearts.
OUR minds were spinning at the end of the day with all the lessons, both in Spanish and local culture. We need to sleep to integrate it all. Buenas noches!
Monday, January 26, 2015
Jan. 26 Monday in Cuenca--Only Blues in the Sky
Monday, January 26
Today was a wonderful day with the exception of the return of my altitude sickness. Embarrassing to leave class to throw up! Otherwise, the sky was blue, the clouds fluffy, the mountains appeared more than usual through the clouds in all their green glory.
Each of us had a productive lesson this morning, walked home for lunch (mine was chamomile tea), I rested for an hour, then we walked back up the hill to school. It takes about 40 minutes for just under a mile because of the altitude. As soon as I had emptied everything I had ever eaten or drunk in my 69 years, we went out with Carlos to tour the city and learn about its history. Carlos is an amazing teacher! He loves to share his city with others, and to learn about other places as well. He's been a mechanical engineer for a year (no le gusta), studied theology ( also no le gusta) and now is a teacher in the Simon Bolívar school. Married about two years, he explained that of the 600,000 people in Cuenca, because of migration to the U.S., only 100,000 of them are male. I think China and Ecuador should have a population swap. In the museum yesterday we learned that (at least that display creator thinks so) Ecuadoreans and other native peoples here originally came from Asia, so that might work.
We asked if he was happy in his situation, and he replied he was ecstatic with her. She is from Norway. He says if you have a girlfriend, it is almost mandatory that you marry her, she can't be just a friend. When she says she is introducing you to her parents, that's it, the end, the chain goes on. He is an energetic, smiling, philosophical young man--Vincent sang his praises all the way home. Don't get me wrong, I was impressed with him, too, but you know how enthusiastic Vincent is! Carlos is a great teacher, and that gets Vincent excited. It was also his balance, the way V says it, Carlos is living inside the box, but he thinks outside it. He sees both the gifts and the disadvantages of everything, and that appeals to both our perfectionistic selves. He showed us the famous cathedral where the geological survey team began the triangulation to map out the equator. There's a very ironical sign there that this cathedral is more famous than the pyramids of Egypt. He felt that was very presumptuous. He also noted that the cathedral, the old one, was situated exactly on top of the temple of the moon belonging to the Cañari people, which was first exactly aligned to view the solstices, and that unwittingly, these modern engineers were following in the footsteps of the ancient scientists.
He also noted that the Inca conquest of the first people was very well planned out. After many years of warfare, during which they were not able to overcome Cañari resistance, the Incas arranged a marriage between an Incan prince and a Cañari princess. The resistance died away as the Incas began to incorporate Cañari culture into their own. The Incas worshipped the sun, from which all life on earth derives. The Cañari worshipped the moon. When the Incas conquered Cuenca, they included the moon in the Inca pantheon along with the sun god. Silver and gold were important to these people as symbols of their deities, gold for the sun because it was the same color as the sun and very shiny, silver for the moon. Their biggest treasure was the shell of the sea creature Spondylus, because it was so hard to get. They live only on a limited part of the coast of Ecuador (claims by Peru notwithstanding), and many people died to get them. They would tie a big rock to one leg and plunge to the bottom of the sea, grab the Spondylus and cut the rope. Carlos said it was a fatal mistake to lose the knife on the way down. So the rulers only could wear Spondylus shell. Gold and silver was for the priests and nobles, etc. When the Spanish came, they learned of this, went to the coast, harvested the shell and brought it back to trade for gold and silver. Both were happy because both treasured different things.
The Spanish friars developed the Feast of Corpus Christi to transition the faith of the people from the sun-god (represented by the large gold monstrance carried in the procession) which contained a loaf of consecrated bread. This procession was held on the 21st of June, the vernal equinox, which was a big celebration for the worshippers of the sun because it is the longest day of the year. They brought all kinds of food and treasures to offer to the sun and buried them in a big pit. The Spanish added the fillip of offering free bread and other foods (termed "dulces" or sweets here) and so the transition was accomplished little by little. On this feast, all over the world, you can see the success of this "recasting" of the sacred story. At least it was non-violent, as so many of the other efforts were not.
It was very inspiring for me to talk with Yadira, my instructor, this morning about the ecological crisis, and the "active hope" that is required of each of us. I told her the 100th monkey story in Spanish and that if I was successful in telling it, she had to give me a star. She laughed, but I did succeed in explaining it. There is always hope, because reality is always more than we can see or sense. She says, and I agree, our hope is in teaching our children better ways to live in the world, to experience the unity and harmony of all creation, to see ourselves as part of it, not lords, to conserve resources rather than to squander them to impress each other.
An inspiring day, as we touched the hem of the sacred once more, seeing how we are all "mezcla"--mixed together--our cultures, our basic humanity, our religions, emotions, and our DNA. In this mixture, it is possible to recognize the other as like ourselves, not a threat, but a helper in the healing of the earth, which desires more than ever to be one body at peace with itself.
Today was a wonderful day with the exception of the return of my altitude sickness. Embarrassing to leave class to throw up! Otherwise, the sky was blue, the clouds fluffy, the mountains appeared more than usual through the clouds in all their green glory.
Each of us had a productive lesson this morning, walked home for lunch (mine was chamomile tea), I rested for an hour, then we walked back up the hill to school. It takes about 40 minutes for just under a mile because of the altitude. As soon as I had emptied everything I had ever eaten or drunk in my 69 years, we went out with Carlos to tour the city and learn about its history. Carlos is an amazing teacher! He loves to share his city with others, and to learn about other places as well. He's been a mechanical engineer for a year (no le gusta), studied theology ( also no le gusta) and now is a teacher in the Simon Bolívar school. Married about two years, he explained that of the 600,000 people in Cuenca, because of migration to the U.S., only 100,000 of them are male. I think China and Ecuador should have a population swap. In the museum yesterday we learned that (at least that display creator thinks so) Ecuadoreans and other native peoples here originally came from Asia, so that might work.
We asked if he was happy in his situation, and he replied he was ecstatic with her. She is from Norway. He says if you have a girlfriend, it is almost mandatory that you marry her, she can't be just a friend. When she says she is introducing you to her parents, that's it, the end, the chain goes on. He is an energetic, smiling, philosophical young man--Vincent sang his praises all the way home. Don't get me wrong, I was impressed with him, too, but you know how enthusiastic Vincent is! Carlos is a great teacher, and that gets Vincent excited. It was also his balance, the way V says it, Carlos is living inside the box, but he thinks outside it. He sees both the gifts and the disadvantages of everything, and that appeals to both our perfectionistic selves. He showed us the famous cathedral where the geological survey team began the triangulation to map out the equator. There's a very ironical sign there that this cathedral is more famous than the pyramids of Egypt. He felt that was very presumptuous. He also noted that the cathedral, the old one, was situated exactly on top of the temple of the moon belonging to the Cañari people, which was first exactly aligned to view the solstices, and that unwittingly, these modern engineers were following in the footsteps of the ancient scientists.
He also noted that the Inca conquest of the first people was very well planned out. After many years of warfare, during which they were not able to overcome Cañari resistance, the Incas arranged a marriage between an Incan prince and a Cañari princess. The resistance died away as the Incas began to incorporate Cañari culture into their own. The Incas worshipped the sun, from which all life on earth derives. The Cañari worshipped the moon. When the Incas conquered Cuenca, they included the moon in the Inca pantheon along with the sun god. Silver and gold were important to these people as symbols of their deities, gold for the sun because it was the same color as the sun and very shiny, silver for the moon. Their biggest treasure was the shell of the sea creature Spondylus, because it was so hard to get. They live only on a limited part of the coast of Ecuador (claims by Peru notwithstanding), and many people died to get them. They would tie a big rock to one leg and plunge to the bottom of the sea, grab the Spondylus and cut the rope. Carlos said it was a fatal mistake to lose the knife on the way down. So the rulers only could wear Spondylus shell. Gold and silver was for the priests and nobles, etc. When the Spanish came, they learned of this, went to the coast, harvested the shell and brought it back to trade for gold and silver. Both were happy because both treasured different things.
The Spanish friars developed the Feast of Corpus Christi to transition the faith of the people from the sun-god (represented by the large gold monstrance carried in the procession) which contained a loaf of consecrated bread. This procession was held on the 21st of June, the vernal equinox, which was a big celebration for the worshippers of the sun because it is the longest day of the year. They brought all kinds of food and treasures to offer to the sun and buried them in a big pit. The Spanish added the fillip of offering free bread and other foods (termed "dulces" or sweets here) and so the transition was accomplished little by little. On this feast, all over the world, you can see the success of this "recasting" of the sacred story. At least it was non-violent, as so many of the other efforts were not.
It was very inspiring for me to talk with Yadira, my instructor, this morning about the ecological crisis, and the "active hope" that is required of each of us. I told her the 100th monkey story in Spanish and that if I was successful in telling it, she had to give me a star. She laughed, but I did succeed in explaining it. There is always hope, because reality is always more than we can see or sense. She says, and I agree, our hope is in teaching our children better ways to live in the world, to experience the unity and harmony of all creation, to see ourselves as part of it, not lords, to conserve resources rather than to squander them to impress each other.
An inspiring day, as we touched the hem of the sacred once more, seeing how we are all "mezcla"--mixed together--our cultures, our basic humanity, our religions, emotions, and our DNA. In this mixture, it is possible to recognize the other as like ourselves, not a threat, but a helper in the healing of the earth, which desires more than ever to be one body at peace with itself.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Jan. 25 Sunday in Ecuador
It is exhausting to try all day to speak in another language. For Vincent, his long-forgotten French keeps getting in the way, as also my German. Nevertheless, we soldier on. Adelante y arriba! We had a lot of sun today and got to go to the top of the ruins of the Inca city center, at whose base is the loveliest aviary I've ever seen. Only a few species, a few cages, but they are obviously happy there and the cages are so beautiful and natural with growing plants and running streams. Some of the macaws have learned to talk from the tourists. Hola is very popular.
Our teacher told us some sad news this morning, her older sister who was pregnant for the first time miscarried last night. It was hard for her to work today, but she couldn't see her sister until the class ended anyway because of visiting hours. We urged her not to feel obligated, but she loves to teach, so we had a good, strenuous day of walking, learning, talking, museum-visiting, reading and pronouncing Spanish. I hope SOME of this sinks in and becomes usable by the end of next week! Miss you all. The snow--not so much!
At the top of the ruins is a view of the city which is gorgeous. You cannot imagine how green it is, trees and grass all around on every hillside, red-roofed houses, modern buildings and ancient cathedrals. There is no earthquake threat here, nor any active volcano, so it is very tranquil. The city center is quite peaceful on the weekends, and even though everything was closed, we walked about reading the shop signs out loud for pronunciation. Flowers are everywhere, some familiar from California to me, some not. While we were looking out over the city, I read the sign which explained why this was an important place to the Incas. First of all, they could look out for miles in every direction. No warriors could sneak up on them. But most important, the site is in alignment with the constellations in just the right configuration for astronomy, at which they were very skilled. Each area of the city was laid out with three things in mind--water, agriculture and the local animals. Such a sense of sacredness overwhelmed me--all things in order, all things related, belonging in the picture, so to speak, and the awareness of that. You could see the ancient order underneath the modern buildings, feel the spirit of the place. Sweet harmony--recalling me to the first experience of the morning. A group of musicians from the Amazon region were playing next to the church of the Immaculate Conception, beautiful panflute, flute and drum making the most melodious, haunting sounds. They were wearing ceremonial costumes made of feathers of the condor and dancing, and it moved me to tears, the beauty, the freshness, the naturalness, the music growing out of birdsong and winds passing. Such a sacred day!
Our teacher told us some sad news this morning, her older sister who was pregnant for the first time miscarried last night. It was hard for her to work today, but she couldn't see her sister until the class ended anyway because of visiting hours. We urged her not to feel obligated, but she loves to teach, so we had a good, strenuous day of walking, learning, talking, museum-visiting, reading and pronouncing Spanish. I hope SOME of this sinks in and becomes usable by the end of next week! Miss you all. The snow--not so much!
At the top of the ruins is a view of the city which is gorgeous. You cannot imagine how green it is, trees and grass all around on every hillside, red-roofed houses, modern buildings and ancient cathedrals. There is no earthquake threat here, nor any active volcano, so it is very tranquil. The city center is quite peaceful on the weekends, and even though everything was closed, we walked about reading the shop signs out loud for pronunciation. Flowers are everywhere, some familiar from California to me, some not. While we were looking out over the city, I read the sign which explained why this was an important place to the Incas. First of all, they could look out for miles in every direction. No warriors could sneak up on them. But most important, the site is in alignment with the constellations in just the right configuration for astronomy, at which they were very skilled. Each area of the city was laid out with three things in mind--water, agriculture and the local animals. Such a sense of sacredness overwhelmed me--all things in order, all things related, belonging in the picture, so to speak, and the awareness of that. You could see the ancient order underneath the modern buildings, feel the spirit of the place. Sweet harmony--recalling me to the first experience of the morning. A group of musicians from the Amazon region were playing next to the church of the Immaculate Conception, beautiful panflute, flute and drum making the most melodious, haunting sounds. They were wearing ceremonial costumes made of feathers of the condor and dancing, and it moved me to tears, the beauty, the freshness, the naturalness, the music growing out of birdsong and winds passing. Such a sacred day!
Saturday, January 24, 2015
January 24 Saturday in Cuenca
We met our instructor outside the school and spent six hours walking around Cuenca, exploring and learning Spanish. We went for a coffee that turned into lunch, as Vincent worked with pronunciation and spelling and I worked on my homework for Monday. Today we noticed the beautiful balconies filled with flowers all around the town, much like in Antigua, Guatemala. Indeed, our guide yesterday, Rosa, told us that she had a friend from Cuzco who told her she felt as if she were home when in Cuenca, they are so much alike. Antigua is older, with cobbled streets, but the city center, especially, feels the same. I asked if there were processions, and she said yes, indeed, many fiestas with processions during the year.
The Feast of Corpus Christi is near, so all the street vendors were offering a special kind of pastry traditional for that festival. They were also selling what looked to be a confection of sugar, perhaps egg white? I don't know--mounds and mounds of the stuff--not cold--which is scooped into an ice cream cone. My delicate stomach (as Fabian terms it) turned away rather forcefully. Nearly knocked me over. :) I am feeling better today, as I could eat pears and toast and tea for breakfast and a pork chop and salad for lunch. I must be acclimating. Yesterday we visited the Church of the Immaculate Conception in the central square, or plaza, and today we visited the Church of San Francisco (St. Francis). Very different places. The Church of the Immaculate Conception was open, relatively full of people, with services going on at the same time. We asked if there were many young people and were told that they come, but at the insistence of their parents without a real desire to do so. The Church of St. Francis, by contrast was empty, with big iron grates across the entrance (although you could see inside), a very ornate altar and a couple of side altars, one with Jesus looking very sad and the other with his mother, looking serene and untroubled.
We see many young Americans here (30s or less) who look like they could have been dropped here from the 60s. The guide, Yuyú, said that the guards in the plaza of St. Francis (where the church was located, and also a market where everything you can imagine is sold) were there because on the weekend, people are more likely to be drinking, drugs are more likely, so they are there to keep the peace. They don't look scared or tough--just standing around talking to each other and making jokes, so I guess the danger is not very great!
The Feast of Corpus Christi is near, so all the street vendors were offering a special kind of pastry traditional for that festival. They were also selling what looked to be a confection of sugar, perhaps egg white? I don't know--mounds and mounds of the stuff--not cold--which is scooped into an ice cream cone. My delicate stomach (as Fabian terms it) turned away rather forcefully. Nearly knocked me over. :) I am feeling better today, as I could eat pears and toast and tea for breakfast and a pork chop and salad for lunch. I must be acclimating. Yesterday we visited the Church of the Immaculate Conception in the central square, or plaza, and today we visited the Church of San Francisco (St. Francis). Very different places. The Church of the Immaculate Conception was open, relatively full of people, with services going on at the same time. We asked if there were many young people and were told that they come, but at the insistence of their parents without a real desire to do so. The Church of St. Francis, by contrast was empty, with big iron grates across the entrance (although you could see inside), a very ornate altar and a couple of side altars, one with Jesus looking very sad and the other with his mother, looking serene and untroubled.
We see many young Americans here (30s or less) who look like they could have been dropped here from the 60s. The guide, Yuyú, said that the guards in the plaza of St. Francis (where the church was located, and also a market where everything you can imagine is sold) were there because on the weekend, people are more likely to be drinking, drugs are more likely, so they are there to keep the peace. They don't look scared or tough--just standing around talking to each other and making jokes, so I guess the danger is not very great!
January 23 Spanish School in Cuenca, Day One
I was too sick (altitude, perhaps) to write this yesterday, and my head was swimming with words, English, Spanish, and surprise! some long-forgotten German surfaced. It seems we have been here a week! Only one day, though. My teacher today shared that she is also a social worker, a passionate person who cares very much about the environment and people's well-being. She teaches the people in the countryside who are for the most part uneducated about things like not clearing the hillsides of vegetation so that rainwater is retained, how not to get pregnant at age 13 or 14, how to ensure the cleanliness of water and so forth. She said about this work, "It is my passion." She is a very good teacher. I will meet with her again on Monday. I was too sick to eat in the evening, went to bed early, but had the opportunity nonetheless to hear the reaction of the populace to the local soccer team's win--the stadium is right across the street. Lots of honking, singing, shouting and very loud fireworks. Our host family is not bothered by the noise, they think it's fun. Otherwise, I imagine it would be hard for them to live right across the street from the pandemonium. All of this went on, mind you, in pouring rain--a deluge. It's a miracle they could play at all.
Reflections on this day--sickness centers me more in myself, not in a good way. I was far less inclined to be open today, although I was able to be so with my teacher. Perhaps it is because I am wearing socks with a knee-length dress. The women (particularly the ones with less indigenous bloodlines) stare at my socks and then up at me in disbelief and disapproval. Women here (except for the indigenous people) wear hose and very high heels and dress as well as they can. I don't mind the looks, but rather am amused by all that. Still, Cuenca is a city of 500,000, so not many return greetings. A few do, however, and it is just like home. Some imp in me wants to say hello to everyone to force them to decide, "Do I respond or not?" My mother was like that--always wanted to get a reaction from people. Until now I've been too shy to discover if I was like her at all. I am!
We walked to la Plaza de las Flores in the afternoon--so beautiful. My eyes were tired of winter, and this was really a treat. Roses, carnations, tuberoses, many which I could not name, but colors are everywhere! My eyes ate them all with gusto. It's about a 20 minute walk from the school to our homestay, so we had lunch there. The weekday schedule is 8 am to 2 pm classes (each of us has a different teacher one on one), 4 pm to 6 pm, a walk around the city practicing conversation and learning about Cuenca and Ecuador in general.
At supper, Vincent tried to tell our host that his wife was a "keeper." We tried to explain what he meant as best we could, but the host, Fabian, replied, "The woman belongs to the house. If you want to give a woman liberty, give her a bigger kitchen." So either he didn't understand our explanation, or didn't understand the concept, although he is a lawyer and does all kinds of legal work. So chalk one up to experience. Perhaps the concept of NOT keeping one's partner for life is much less common here. Monica seems like a very happy person--she loves to have foreign guests, and treats all of us like royalty, although she is not at all subservient and very much her own person. It is sweet to see that after many years and three teen-agers, they still are fond of each other.
We are meeting many Americans here. Some live here already, others are looking to stay, some just like to travel. It makes me wonder what the NON-expat locals think. Cuenca has been named the best city in the world for retirement by several travel guides, so there are about 3,500 Americans living here permanently.
Those are the facts. All in all, it was a good first day. It feels like we are learning. The feelings are more difficult to sort out. I was not feeling so overwhelmed yesterday, today I was. Tomorrow is only day two.
Reflections on this day--sickness centers me more in myself, not in a good way. I was far less inclined to be open today, although I was able to be so with my teacher. Perhaps it is because I am wearing socks with a knee-length dress. The women (particularly the ones with less indigenous bloodlines) stare at my socks and then up at me in disbelief and disapproval. Women here (except for the indigenous people) wear hose and very high heels and dress as well as they can. I don't mind the looks, but rather am amused by all that. Still, Cuenca is a city of 500,000, so not many return greetings. A few do, however, and it is just like home. Some imp in me wants to say hello to everyone to force them to decide, "Do I respond or not?" My mother was like that--always wanted to get a reaction from people. Until now I've been too shy to discover if I was like her at all. I am!
We walked to la Plaza de las Flores in the afternoon--so beautiful. My eyes were tired of winter, and this was really a treat. Roses, carnations, tuberoses, many which I could not name, but colors are everywhere! My eyes ate them all with gusto. It's about a 20 minute walk from the school to our homestay, so we had lunch there. The weekday schedule is 8 am to 2 pm classes (each of us has a different teacher one on one), 4 pm to 6 pm, a walk around the city practicing conversation and learning about Cuenca and Ecuador in general.
At supper, Vincent tried to tell our host that his wife was a "keeper." We tried to explain what he meant as best we could, but the host, Fabian, replied, "The woman belongs to the house. If you want to give a woman liberty, give her a bigger kitchen." So either he didn't understand our explanation, or didn't understand the concept, although he is a lawyer and does all kinds of legal work. So chalk one up to experience. Perhaps the concept of NOT keeping one's partner for life is much less common here. Monica seems like a very happy person--she loves to have foreign guests, and treats all of us like royalty, although she is not at all subservient and very much her own person. It is sweet to see that after many years and three teen-agers, they still are fond of each other.
We are meeting many Americans here. Some live here already, others are looking to stay, some just like to travel. It makes me wonder what the NON-expat locals think. Cuenca has been named the best city in the world for retirement by several travel guides, so there are about 3,500 Americans living here permanently.
Those are the facts. All in all, it was a good first day. It feels like we are learning. The feelings are more difficult to sort out. I was not feeling so overwhelmed yesterday, today I was. Tomorrow is only day two.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
January 22 At Home in Cuenca
January 22
Our flight was superb, lasted only 50 minutes, compared to the ten hours it would have taken on the bus. That saves us more time to learn Spanish. Our host family came to pick us up at the airport in Cuenca https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuenca,_Ecuador. They are very nice, muy simpático, as is said here, mother, father, three children, 10th, 8th and 7th grade. They have been hosting for the language school (Simón Bolivar) http://www.bolivar2.com/spanish_lessons_prices/index.html for the past 15 years. She has made hospedaje (hospitality) an art form. It was dark when we landed, but photos are forthcoming--as soon as I learn how to get them from my e-mail to this blog!
Our flight was superb, lasted only 50 minutes, compared to the ten hours it would have taken on the bus. That saves us more time to learn Spanish. Our host family came to pick us up at the airport in Cuenca https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuenca,_Ecuador. They are very nice, muy simpático, as is said here, mother, father, three children, 10th, 8th and 7th grade. They have been hosting for the language school (Simón Bolivar) http://www.bolivar2.com/spanish_lessons_prices/index.html for the past 15 years. She has made hospedaje (hospitality) an art form. It was dark when we landed, but photos are forthcoming--as soon as I learn how to get them from my e-mail to this blog!
January 21
Our first day of travel was extremely blessed. We met some very kind people and practiced our Spanish. After packing all night the night before, we were a bit tired, but everything went so smoothly, we had to marvel. Of all the things that could go wrong, not ONE of them did, although I left behind a hairbrush and a pair of moccasins. We are so happy to be here--we look around at the mountains, the flowers, the palm trees, the broad vistas and say, "Are we really here?" This evening we arrive in Cuenca by plane, where we will study Spanish for about a week before beginning our interviews of artisans engaged in fair trade. Exciting!!! There must be a better word--maybe in Spanish?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)