Turning 70 has probably never been better than it was for me this year. Vincent arranged through AirBnB for a weekend in Cotacachi, the leather-working center of Ecuador. The ads sounded marvelous--an Ecuadorian family looking for guests who want to experience not only the climate but the culture and cooking (all organic food) of Ecuador. If anything, they understated their welcome. Before we even got there, they had offered to make a special dinner on the 8th and bake a birthday cake. They said they were eagerly expecting us. That, too, was an understatement. We felt unbelievably dear to them before we even got there.
Vincent began celebrating on Thursday, bringing home the most beautiful flower arrangement (it has lasted until the 16th). A dozen roses, red and white, anthurium, bird-of-paradise, sunflowers, carnations, red ti plant, tall grasses, goldenrod, alstroemeria, some flowers whose stems and sepals look like carnations, but whose blossoms look like clusters of green feathers, tall papyrus leaves, and tiny white asters. I have been enjoying them immensely for a good long time. The roses don't droop!
We took a taxi from Otavalo on the Friday afternoon before, and the taxista was very as they say here--listo. It means ready, but it also means smart, practical, capable, a go-to person. We had the neighborhood--Turucu--and the general idea was that it was near a chapel. Our taxista was from Otavalo and didn't know too much about Cotacachi, but he called his dispatcher and off we went. It was different from the taxi rides you get in the U.S. (cheaper--a lot cheaper) inasmuch as when we got near the place the dispatcher told him to go, the driver stopped a couple of times and asked the oldest-looking person he could find where this family lived. Imagine trying to find someone like that in the U.S., where most people haven't the faintest idea who their neighbors are!
When we arrived, they were baking bread in a big brick oven in their courtyard. Half a dozen dogs milled around in a friendly way. One of them we took to calling the "rasta dog," because he had long, long dreadlocks hanging from his ears. The bread they had made by hand, in the old way, the children--theirs and the neighbors'--had formed the bread into shapes. They had also roasted some pork called "cuero" or leather. They were both delicious, hot and juicy. We hadn't known we were hungry before, but we polished off quite a lot of this "snack." They showed us to our room and we were delighted to discover that there were no stairs, and that our windows overlooked their sizable fruit, flower and vegetable garden, and on the other side, the volcano Cotopaxi. Hanging in front of our door and right beside (nearly IN) the garden were two comfy hammocks. Wow! we thought to ourselves, this is magnificent. I forgot to mention that the $15 per person per night included breakfast and dinner. I did mention the home cooking though.
Our hosts Patricia and Rumiñahui are both excellent cooks. She belongs to a group of women who are practicing and promoting organic gardening. We had homemade bread (from the week's baking) and fruit in the mornings (we had the choice of eggs from their flock of chickens, but preferred this). Lunches were extra ($3 each), and consisted of meat, rice, and fresh vegetables from their garden. The shrimp dinner on Saturday night was incredible. I longed to lick my fingers, but it wouldn't have been polite, I think--no one else was. I've never eaten shrimp with the shell on (it's quite messy with a lot of fingerwork involved), but I think I would have eaten these hanging upside down from a rope if I'd had to.
We met a couple from France who were staying there, very friendly. Her parents were originally from Spain, so her Spanish was excellent, and she had some English, too, which she enjoyed practicing with us. As they were leaving, they were asked to sign the wall where all the departing guests get to voice their sentiments.
Wall, you said? That's right, two whole walls of their dining room are painted with large trees. Everyone who stays has the opportunity to write what they wish, mostly very grateful wishes for the family. On the opposite wall is another tree listing the children, parents and grandparents. Each child had a nickname, from youngest to oldest: Sami (princesa), Malki (loco), Yarina (amable), Yauri (alegre). Patricia was creativa, and Rumi was soñador (dreamer). Their 19-year-old son Yauri is the artist who painted the walls and did some other very interesting and sometimes beautiful work throughout the house--portraits, dreamscapes, etc. He is very talented in my opinion, but not receiving any income from his art--he's working in Quito, but not as an artist.
We walked the roughly 3/4 mile to the town center on Saturday morning, passing many sights, both interesting and beautiful, and the inevitable wandering dogs. In this country town, we also saw many pigs, cows and horses grazing in the fields. We met the wife of an artisan we know in the leather market (Cotacachi is world-famous for its leather goods) and bought a poncho from her. At noon, we walked back. After lunch, Patricia brought a plate to an elderly gentleman who was working in their fields where they raise potatoes, habas (fava beans) and some other things. He was trying to hold a roll of barbed wire at the same time and dropped the plate upside down in the dirt. That was sad for all of us, because we had pictured his satisfaction eating that delicious food that we had just had, but the dogs who had followed us truly enjoyed it. (The bowl of soup was better protected, so he didn't have to go completely hungry.) Besides dogs, they also raise pigs, cows, horses, chickens, dogs and cats. We had fun playing with the latter. Vincent asked why the puppies were kept on the roof. Patricia's smiling reply was, they are traviésos. (Scamps.) They proved it the next day by overturning some potted plants on the patio and making a big mess.
It is amazing to us over and over to see these animals all living amicably side by side. So much for the law of the jungle. Dogs here in general don't chase chickens (or cats) or cows. They are not on leashes either. Many of them chase cars and cyclists, but many others just look placidly at passersby without barking or threatening. We don't understand why the differences exist--aggressive, barking, chasing or peaceful, calm and moderately friendly--but none of them has a leash.
On Saturday afternoon, Rumi asked if we wanted to go for a drive to see Lake Cuicocha. This was very kind of him--not in the brochure at all--and we had wanted to see it again. When we were here in 2011, it was just beautiful. It is the caldera of a dormant volcano filled with water. In some spots, you can see the (formerly hot) gases escaping in clusters of bubbles. The place he drove us to was very high above the lake, so you could see the whole thing, including the islands in the center. It seemed we were at the very top of the world, looking out at the chain of volcanoes, dormant and active, that form the backbone of Ecuador. Years ago, someone planted several small stands of pine and others of eucalyptus, which is omnipresent in this part of the country. It was so uplifting to see all the green! No billboards, no highways, no apartment blocks, office buildings, factories or stores, just lovely vistas for 360 degrees. We could see the dots in the valley that represented Otavalo, where we are currently living.
We then drove to visit family of Patricia and Rumi and from there went up the hill on a steep dirt road to find one of the puppies, who apparently had run home to his mother as soon as he realized where he was. Here we had a real treat. There was a tiny family enclave on the side of the hill by the road. We walked down to it and met a young relative and an incredibly ancient-looking couple who stood beside their house. Rumi wanted us to see how houses used to be made before Europeans came. The house owned by the couple was newer--it had a thatched roof and concrete block walls. He said that was not as warm. The other house was also thatched but made with adobe--mud with layers of bamboo, just like a cake. This one is warmer in the winter, Rumi said. The couple were gracious to let us photograph them beside their house, and their smiles were very broad when Vincent showed them the picture afterwards. Afterwards, we drove back to Cotacachi through Otavalo, listening to Vivaldi in the car (that was surreal in a way, as we most often here have heard Andean music and contemporary rock on the radio). Rumi loves classical violin. And we both love Vivaldi.
We stopped at a tiny shop in a tiny town for ice cream. The chocolate variety that I chose was very yummy. We felt replete, totally relaxed and even pampered well before the shrimp dinner. They really made every effort to celebrate my birthday, even though the day before I had been a stranger. Rumi even played his violin for my supper--"feliz cumpleaños," and everyone sang. Gratitude was my constant emotional state for this birthday.
I spent a lot of time that weekend listening to the live stream from the conference which is the culmination of the transformational nine-month course I have been taking. That was energizing and encouraging. I also decided that at 70, I am not descending the proverbial "hill," rather getting ready to make the biggest contribution I can to the world. On Friday night I began getting e-mails from all over the world wishing me a happy birthday. It had a tremendous impact on me, how many people wish me well. I realized I know hundreds of very kind people, which is a gift beyond my wildest dreams. Saturday the trickle became a torrent. I was overwhelmed with kindness. I got funny cards from a friend and from the office of Minga and a sweet one from my former sister-in-law. She had the idea of scanning and e-mailing the card, which had never occurred to me is possible.
On Sunday, Patricia asked would we like to see something very special that happens in Cotacachi only one time a year on this weekend. Of course we said yes, so we walked together to the town plaza to see Muyu Raymi, which is a féria de semillas, or festival of seeds. This has been going on since antiquity (which is why it has the indigenous name), but is growing in importance because of the need for healthier gardening, without pesticides, chemicals or GMOs. It was astonishing. That's the best I can describe it. In one corner of the plaza, they had an indigenous ceremony to offer thanks to the Creator for all the gifts of the earth--a harvest festival. But one feature is unique in my experience--people exchange their seeds. There are competitions for the various types of seeds, especially maíz, or corn. The ones that get the prizes are the most sought after. The table where they were displayed was thickly surrounded with people several layers deep.
The beauty of this festival is hard to describe--so glad Vincent took pictures. In the main square, they had laid out a traditional offering--fruits, flowers, vegetables, seeds of all kinds, laid out in a beautiful geometric pattern. An old woman chanted in Quichua (the language of indigenous Ecuadoreans, predating the Spanish by centuries), a group chanted and sang, and the old women went around the circle that had gathered to watch sprinkling water on the crowd. It was very similar to some of the ceremonies at St. Nicholas in that regard. Afterwards, groups gathered to play music, sing and dance.
We also milled around the square, looking at exhibits and seeing the incredible display of seeds lining the streets. It reminded us of Holy Week in Guatemala, when the pavements are decorated with gorgeous mosaics of seeds, dyed corn meal and flower petals. The native women (mostly) also lined the streets, sitting or squatting, talking to each other and arranging the displays.
Patricia introduced us to several of her friends, one of whom is a herbalist. She had published a small book explaining the medicinal value of many native plants, and they chatted together for quite some time while Vincent took photos. We tasted some improbable dishes (some of them involving insects) and got food for Patricia's brother and father at some of the cooking stalls. Then we walked home in leisurely fashion. She made us a nice lunch at home and after spending a bit more time in the hammocks and then the garden, learning some more about plants, we took a taxi to Otavalo.
The pace of life in Cotacachi is so tranquil, so lovely. We walked, ate, spent time playing with the kittens and viewing the garden and smelling the citrus blossoms. I felt like a happy little flower, slowly opening in the warmth of the sun. In the midst of this were beautiful meditations on the power of life to heal and renew itself. I felt my soul expanding as if it would fly. Vincent kept encouraging me to remember that I am loved. All the Facebook posts and e-mails and phone calls helped. I was pretty buoyant by the end of the evening. I really feel called to use the gifts I have been given to share the beauty of the earth and all its creatures, human and not, and to help people connect with the love and unity that is their birthright on this planet. The book Transcendent Joy is just the beginning. To live expanded, to know I have a place and a purpose, that others value me (thank you, Anne, for the reminder) as I value them, that was the real gift of this birthday, the best birthday ever. Thank you, God, thank you all..
Monday, August 17, 2015
Sunday, March 29, 2015 Santa Marianita
A beautiful, beautiful experience today. I heard the Lord say, "Open up--eyes, ears, skin--let everything in that I have for you." As I did that today, I experienced more personal freedom than I ever have before. Everything to me was beautiful, welcome, happy. I observed how others were feeling, much more than usual (usually I FEEL what others are feeling, or what they seem to be feeling). We went to the beach at San Lorenzo--quite beautiful, with similar scenery to Big Sur in California. The Rodriguez family is one we have come to love--very warm, very happy, with lots of big smiles and laughter, especially Washington, the father, and Samuel, the three-year-old son. However, the 14-year-old son and 16-year-old daughter were happy to sit together in the front seat and look over each other's shoulder at cell phone photos. Alba, a beautiful woman, mother of three, sat in the back with Samuel, me and Vincent.
There were so many things that reminded me of my childhood this day, but what happened was different from how it was back then. We would have been so worried about getting the (borrowed) car dirty and sandy and wet that we wouldn't have had a good time. We would have been fending each other off as one climbed over the other, heedless of accidental blows to the head. I would have been wishing to be anywhere else. All of this was different, because I was different. An incredible gift, to get to "do childhood over" in one day.
At San Lorenzo, the waves were quite strong with a heavy undertow, so we just got wet in the extremely pleasant water and walked about 3/4 mile along the beach. Then we drove closer to Manta (tuna fishing capital of the world, which would have enthralled my dad) and stopped at Santa Marianita, also a beautiful beach, but with much tamer waves, breaking in shallow water. So much fun to remember the many happy times in the sea, and to heal the sad ones.
When we returned today, the house was full with neighbors and friends--coming together every Sunday night--some of the family make fruit drinks and the others come to buy them. Some spoke a little English, and it was fun to try to separate truth from falsehoods as our host teased his friends, calling them, Sr. Lie, and telling us they were tourist guides. We fell for it of course, but it was all in fun, as Washington said, they were "mentiras blancas."
Going to bed tonight happy and calm, ready to return to Santo Domingo and finish the last couple of legs of our journey. Thank you everyone, for being in my life, for the immense gift it is to know you.
There were so many things that reminded me of my childhood this day, but what happened was different from how it was back then. We would have been so worried about getting the (borrowed) car dirty and sandy and wet that we wouldn't have had a good time. We would have been fending each other off as one climbed over the other, heedless of accidental blows to the head. I would have been wishing to be anywhere else. All of this was different, because I was different. An incredible gift, to get to "do childhood over" in one day.
At San Lorenzo, the waves were quite strong with a heavy undertow, so we just got wet in the extremely pleasant water and walked about 3/4 mile along the beach. Then we drove closer to Manta (tuna fishing capital of the world, which would have enthralled my dad) and stopped at Santa Marianita, also a beautiful beach, but with much tamer waves, breaking in shallow water. So much fun to remember the many happy times in the sea, and to heal the sad ones.
When we returned today, the house was full with neighbors and friends--coming together every Sunday night--some of the family make fruit drinks and the others come to buy them. Some spoke a little English, and it was fun to try to separate truth from falsehoods as our host teased his friends, calling them, Sr. Lie, and telling us they were tourist guides. We fell for it of course, but it was all in fun, as Washington said, they were "mentiras blancas."
Going to bed tonight happy and calm, ready to return to Santo Domingo and finish the last couple of legs of our journey. Thank you everyone, for being in my life, for the immense gift it is to know you.
Sunday, July 26, 2015
July 26, Strange Encounters in Cotacachi
A lot of the last week has been devoted to work--getting samples ordered and approved from a new artisan, writing bunches of e-mails and reports, new procedures and making hiring recommendations. Today we decided to not even open that Pandora's box and had a nice time thinking and wondering about future possibilities and which ones hold energy for us. It's something we haven't done often, but now are getting into it. Afterwards, we had our daily prayers and walked to town to take the bus to Cotacachi. Otavalo, where we currently live, is situated between two sleeping volcanoes--Imbabura and Cotacachi--they are the legendary "pachamamá" and " taita papá" of the indigenous Quichua people. Papá Imbabura has been sleeping for the last 8,000 years (a mere nap in geologic time); Google says mamá Cotacachi last erupted in 1955. (Other files say she is dormant.)
The day was perfect--clear blue skies with fluffy white clouds, date palms glistening in the sun. We stopped in the Plaza de San Francisco to view the market and look for our friend Cristhián. Not finding him, we stopped to talk to (and buy from) a vendor of crepes named Alfonsina. She is from the area, but ten years ago she was living in Germany and married her husband from the Netherlands. She did not know how to make crepes then, but her husband taught her the recipe. Nijnegen is one of only two places which Vincent has visited in the Netherlands. She was remarking what a small world it is. We said to ourselves, "It's even smaller than that."
On the way into the town from the bus station, we encountered a couple whom Vincent had only the day before found in a Facebook group from Cotacachi. He recognized them on the street! We had a very nice chat with them, got the name of a good immigration lawyer, walked on to the plaza and saw a woman buying crepes. She recommended them as delicious and Susanne talked with Alfonsina while Vincent talked with the gringa. She was from a small town in Ohio near Cleveland, practically next door to us. It came out she had close family from Dublin, and she'd connections in Cork as well. She also gave us the name of an immigration lawyer who could help us get a permanent resident visa. Everyone was so friendly today. We went to look for the tourist office and encountered a nice woman in a hostal who told us the office was closed on Sundays (contrary to the Lonely Planet guide's information.) Something we are hearing from every direction is that everything changes in Ecuador (particularly immigration rules), so we were not too surprised.
We stopped in a large square to listen to a local band playing lively South American tunes which we recognized. They seemed to be high school and college age, all dressed in black and swaying in time (about 30 of them). We reflected on the loss to North America of community live music, something which used to be traditional in every town on a Sunday afternoon, but now very rare, supplanted by electronically disseminated music performed by professionals. It used to be that one played an instrument and played whenever a group could assemble in the community. I suppose garage bands have taken that niche in musical ecology, but I remember listening to the bands in the park on Sundays in Riverside, California, and how much fun they were for everyone, young and old. You didn't have to be a rock-and-roller or a techno fan or a Beethoven admirer to enjoy that music. So music has gotten more specialized, more professional, and more remote from people's experience--it is "pure" now, divorced from family and friends, the private preserve of a very few. It feels sad.
By contrast, the joy of the musicians in the park was clear. Have we traded joy for perfection? A poor bargain, it seems to me.
The first couple we encountered in Cotacachi are working in an indigenous community, volunteering their time to teach young children English. We were very impressed with their respectful approach to the culture of the Quichua.
As we approached the bus station to return home, whom should we spy but Carlos and Sulema Pastillo, our friends from Peguche. It was such a delight to see them, and they were happy to see us as well. They invited us to come see them again, and we promised we would. So many kind faces today. We feel like we spent the day with friends, even though all but Carlos and Sulema were strangers. How strange, yet wonderful, are the ways of Providence!
The day was perfect--clear blue skies with fluffy white clouds, date palms glistening in the sun. We stopped in the Plaza de San Francisco to view the market and look for our friend Cristhián. Not finding him, we stopped to talk to (and buy from) a vendor of crepes named Alfonsina. She is from the area, but ten years ago she was living in Germany and married her husband from the Netherlands. She did not know how to make crepes then, but her husband taught her the recipe. Nijnegen is one of only two places which Vincent has visited in the Netherlands. She was remarking what a small world it is. We said to ourselves, "It's even smaller than that."
On the way into the town from the bus station, we encountered a couple whom Vincent had only the day before found in a Facebook group from Cotacachi. He recognized them on the street! We had a very nice chat with them, got the name of a good immigration lawyer, walked on to the plaza and saw a woman buying crepes. She recommended them as delicious and Susanne talked with Alfonsina while Vincent talked with the gringa. She was from a small town in Ohio near Cleveland, practically next door to us. It came out she had close family from Dublin, and she'd connections in Cork as well. She also gave us the name of an immigration lawyer who could help us get a permanent resident visa. Everyone was so friendly today. We went to look for the tourist office and encountered a nice woman in a hostal who told us the office was closed on Sundays (contrary to the Lonely Planet guide's information.) Something we are hearing from every direction is that everything changes in Ecuador (particularly immigration rules), so we were not too surprised.
We stopped in a large square to listen to a local band playing lively South American tunes which we recognized. They seemed to be high school and college age, all dressed in black and swaying in time (about 30 of them). We reflected on the loss to North America of community live music, something which used to be traditional in every town on a Sunday afternoon, but now very rare, supplanted by electronically disseminated music performed by professionals. It used to be that one played an instrument and played whenever a group could assemble in the community. I suppose garage bands have taken that niche in musical ecology, but I remember listening to the bands in the park on Sundays in Riverside, California, and how much fun they were for everyone, young and old. You didn't have to be a rock-and-roller or a techno fan or a Beethoven admirer to enjoy that music. So music has gotten more specialized, more professional, and more remote from people's experience--it is "pure" now, divorced from family and friends, the private preserve of a very few. It feels sad.
By contrast, the joy of the musicians in the park was clear. Have we traded joy for perfection? A poor bargain, it seems to me.
The first couple we encountered in Cotacachi are working in an indigenous community, volunteering their time to teach young children English. We were very impressed with their respectful approach to the culture of the Quichua.
As we approached the bus station to return home, whom should we spy but Carlos and Sulema Pastillo, our friends from Peguche. It was such a delight to see them, and they were happy to see us as well. They invited us to come see them again, and we promised we would. So many kind faces today. We feel like we spent the day with friends, even though all but Carlos and Sulema were strangers. How strange, yet wonderful, are the ways of Providence!
Thursday, July 16, 2015
July 16 Always Moving Forward
One of our unwitting teachers here, Martha Constante, has a motto--"siempre adelante," meaning always keep moving forward, no matter what has knocked you back. I am adopting it, too. The house sale continues on, with the stellar performance of our realtor who has in one weekend a) rewired a problematic light on our back porch, contacted the buyer's lawyer and realtor with corrected information (their inspector was incompetent), contacted ComEd to urge them to finish their three year-old pole-setting project and wrangled everyone around into the position to sign the papers and move forward on the sale. Bless you, Osh! The only remaining hurdle is the buyer's need to get a mortgage loan, and that is out of our hands completely. We simply have to trust and keep "moving forward."
We continue on with our volunteer work here, offering whatever we have to the development of fair trade here in Ecuador, even though sometimes we feel that's little enough, or not what's needed or wanted, or whatever. Or maybe it's only I who feel that way. It doesn't matter, what I have I will give, and surely there will be, in God's economy, someone who needs it. It certainly worked that way with furniture two weeks ago! We will be here until early October, doing this. Afterward, we will sell our fair trade crafts at church bazaars until Christmas, and after that, what? We don't know, but we will keep moving forward.
Trust has become a big theme for us, and I am constantly reminded how we cannot tell when events are happening around us whether they will benefit or harm us. Things that may seem to be good can just as likely turn out very badly. The opposite is also true. All we can do is offer God the precious gift of our trust and do what's in front of us with great love and attention. In the midst of all of this, there are tiny, tiny micro-events that hold so much significance, they are the seeds of the future, and we plant them mostly unconsciously. All of that said, my dear friend Charlotte used to always say, "I don't know anything else for sure, but I do know that underneath are the everlasting arms." We have been so blessed that even all this uncertainty about next steps, etc. doesn't feel threatening. We are on course, on time and on point in God's view of things. We are urged to "enjoy the ride," because it is so very short.
Today Vincent and I were remembering the first months of our friendship, when all we ignorant souls noticed was how very much we liked each other. Gratitude repeats the phrase, 27 years later. Many things have happened that tested our little boat to the utmost. For the moment we are in calm water. But I can honestly say, there's no other boat I would rather be in than ours, even during the times when I am NOT aware that God's arms are underneath us.
Just a small thing--it was really lovely that Osh did all his communicating with us via his cell phone, so I got to see once more our beautiful home and the sheltering trees in the backyard that have given us so much delight. He was showing me the temporary electric connections on our house and our two neighbors'--but what I saw was beauty and peace and the gift that our lives together have been.
Tomorrow? We will continue on.
We continue on with our volunteer work here, offering whatever we have to the development of fair trade here in Ecuador, even though sometimes we feel that's little enough, or not what's needed or wanted, or whatever. Or maybe it's only I who feel that way. It doesn't matter, what I have I will give, and surely there will be, in God's economy, someone who needs it. It certainly worked that way with furniture two weeks ago! We will be here until early October, doing this. Afterward, we will sell our fair trade crafts at church bazaars until Christmas, and after that, what? We don't know, but we will keep moving forward.
Trust has become a big theme for us, and I am constantly reminded how we cannot tell when events are happening around us whether they will benefit or harm us. Things that may seem to be good can just as likely turn out very badly. The opposite is also true. All we can do is offer God the precious gift of our trust and do what's in front of us with great love and attention. In the midst of all of this, there are tiny, tiny micro-events that hold so much significance, they are the seeds of the future, and we plant them mostly unconsciously. All of that said, my dear friend Charlotte used to always say, "I don't know anything else for sure, but I do know that underneath are the everlasting arms." We have been so blessed that even all this uncertainty about next steps, etc. doesn't feel threatening. We are on course, on time and on point in God's view of things. We are urged to "enjoy the ride," because it is so very short.
Today Vincent and I were remembering the first months of our friendship, when all we ignorant souls noticed was how very much we liked each other. Gratitude repeats the phrase, 27 years later. Many things have happened that tested our little boat to the utmost. For the moment we are in calm water. But I can honestly say, there's no other boat I would rather be in than ours, even during the times when I am NOT aware that God's arms are underneath us.
Just a small thing--it was really lovely that Osh did all his communicating with us via his cell phone, so I got to see once more our beautiful home and the sheltering trees in the backyard that have given us so much delight. He was showing me the temporary electric connections on our house and our two neighbors'--but what I saw was beauty and peace and the gift that our lives together have been.
Tomorrow? We will continue on.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
July 11, 2015 Day of Rest
We are back in Ecuador, since Monday of this week, getting re-acclimated to altitude, food, new bed, etc. I've been feeling guilty for not continuing the daily blog, but Vincent reminded me it was only I who thought it had to be every day. So here goes. The woman who rented us our last apartment kindly reserved another one for when we returned, so we are now on the second floor with a nice view of a tree-covered hill, but to me even more interesting, our neighbors' homes. These are small one or two room structures made of concrete and roofed--haphazardly--with red tile. It appears to be two related families, sharing a structure in the middle which may be latrines. Each of the families washes every other day in a concrete tub outside the shed and hangs the clean clothes on lines strung all across the yard. It looks like Buddhist prayer flags. They dress traditionally. One of them, an elderly man, was working in his garden (very overgrown) with a machete the other day. He was very expert with it.
To me it is a great pleasure to watch them. They chat and work together, a lot in the open, with chickens and dogs roaming the yard in peaceful coexistence, all seemingly oblivious to the presence of tourist hostals (longer-term hotels) all around them looking by contrast garishly modern and sleek. Ours is an older one, painted pastel pink and built in an add-on fashion very familiar to Ecuadorians. You build another floor or wing when you have the money. We adore our landlady, Lilia. She is a single mother of a sweet toddler. She works very hard, moving furniture and linens and kitchen supplies from floor to floor as required by her tenants. Once she even hung our laundry when we forgot and left it in the washer! In the old place, we had very bad internet reception at first. She kept on nagging the cable company until she got it improved, and it seems in our absence she got it fixed to work perfectly. We are very grateful, as it means we can stay in touch with "back home" better.
The week before we left, we received an offer on our house. It was much, much less than the house is actually worth, but we accepted it. The inspection was this Tuesday, while we were here, so the week before we left, we spent all of each and every day working to strip our house of our belongings. Everything we own except the car is now stored in 150 square feet. It was a delight to be able to bless our friends and neighbors with gifts of furniture and dishes. We held on to only our bed, my worktable (because it took us so long to find one that was low enough), and our two rocking chairs, one a wedding gift and the other a Christmas gift. It was wrenching for me to say goodbye to our home for the last 16 years--so many happy memories were created there, and our yard was a gift of grace in many ways for us. To eat breakfast while watching the birds and squirrels managing their own lives all around us, to see the beautiful offerings of the flowers, to enjoy the largesse of our now-grown trees, then say our prayers for the day, reminding us of the gratitude we owe to our Maker, that was heavenly. Interestingly enough, there are more birds around our backyard than we have around here, I don't know why.
We will reestablish that practice again here. Now we face into the tasks of furnishing the new office and hiring the new manager. We are not solely responsible for this--we are just the arms and legs of the people who will make the decisions, but that feels good to be helping. I personally am missing everyone, particularly my daughter and granddaughters. We had some wonderful times with them in June when we were in Illinois. We return to the U.S. in early October. Then we will jump right in to holiday sales events, selling fair trade items once more. If the sale of our house goes through, and right now we are not sure that it will, we will have to hurry up and find a place to live, at least until January 1. We don't know how that will happen, but we're on a journey without a clear destination, so we'll just have to trust in God's providence.
During our time in June, we were able to launch our new book, Transcendent Joy, which can be viewed on Amazon.com. It is a book that makes ME happy to read, so we brought a copy back here for the "down days," if there are any. Vincent suggests that I start another, writing about the artisans we have met who have touched us with their courage, grace and determination to make a better life for their children than they have had. If there is time in the next three months, I will.
We are still adjusting to and learning a different way of life. I am told (by the Ecuadorian consulate in Chicago) that jobs are very scarce. There are a lot of small business enterprises--micro, really, for many--where people combine their work with their daily chores. If the children are not in school, they play in the yard or the shop, wherever their parents are, or if they're old enough, they help. Some people do daily agricultural or cleaning work, others have small convenience stores in their homes, others are fortunate enough to have skills in producing crafts for export. The big factories are on the coast, not here, so there's no real slave labor. However, life here is much simpler, much less expensive (for us, not necessarily the ordinary citizens of Ecuador), and at a much more steady pace. When we were back in the U.S., for example, we felt literally bombarded whenever we entered a retail store or grocery--too many choices, too much pressure to buy, buy, buy. It was also very difficult to fit in visits with people we really wanted to see--either their schedule or ours was full. Not a problem here, but maybe that is because it is necessarily a smaller number of people, having arrived here only six months ago. No one expects a dishwasher or a vacuum cleaner or a car or a dryer for laundry or hot water in the kitchen sink, even though Ecuador is not a poor country. It's just not a part of the landscape, and I had no idea how much I did NOT miss those things, nor how much they complicate my life in the U.S. until now.
I was very happy to witness the regrowth of Ten Thousand Villages Evanston, which you know Vincent and I played a big part in opening. They had been in some bad straits early last year, so it was good to see the renewal of hope and energy, brought about by the staff and the new manager, Joseph. I thank him for taking such good care of "my baby." I know some of the artisans their work is benefiting, and they are grateful, too.
This afternoon, we will get ourselves unpacked and buy groceries for next week. Tomorrow we hope the sun will shine and we can do the laundry. Thank you all for your friendship and love. We are very blessed whatever country we are in because of you guys.
Love,
Susanne & Vincent
To me it is a great pleasure to watch them. They chat and work together, a lot in the open, with chickens and dogs roaming the yard in peaceful coexistence, all seemingly oblivious to the presence of tourist hostals (longer-term hotels) all around them looking by contrast garishly modern and sleek. Ours is an older one, painted pastel pink and built in an add-on fashion very familiar to Ecuadorians. You build another floor or wing when you have the money. We adore our landlady, Lilia. She is a single mother of a sweet toddler. She works very hard, moving furniture and linens and kitchen supplies from floor to floor as required by her tenants. Once she even hung our laundry when we forgot and left it in the washer! In the old place, we had very bad internet reception at first. She kept on nagging the cable company until she got it improved, and it seems in our absence she got it fixed to work perfectly. We are very grateful, as it means we can stay in touch with "back home" better.
The week before we left, we received an offer on our house. It was much, much less than the house is actually worth, but we accepted it. The inspection was this Tuesday, while we were here, so the week before we left, we spent all of each and every day working to strip our house of our belongings. Everything we own except the car is now stored in 150 square feet. It was a delight to be able to bless our friends and neighbors with gifts of furniture and dishes. We held on to only our bed, my worktable (because it took us so long to find one that was low enough), and our two rocking chairs, one a wedding gift and the other a Christmas gift. It was wrenching for me to say goodbye to our home for the last 16 years--so many happy memories were created there, and our yard was a gift of grace in many ways for us. To eat breakfast while watching the birds and squirrels managing their own lives all around us, to see the beautiful offerings of the flowers, to enjoy the largesse of our now-grown trees, then say our prayers for the day, reminding us of the gratitude we owe to our Maker, that was heavenly. Interestingly enough, there are more birds around our backyard than we have around here, I don't know why.
We will reestablish that practice again here. Now we face into the tasks of furnishing the new office and hiring the new manager. We are not solely responsible for this--we are just the arms and legs of the people who will make the decisions, but that feels good to be helping. I personally am missing everyone, particularly my daughter and granddaughters. We had some wonderful times with them in June when we were in Illinois. We return to the U.S. in early October. Then we will jump right in to holiday sales events, selling fair trade items once more. If the sale of our house goes through, and right now we are not sure that it will, we will have to hurry up and find a place to live, at least until January 1. We don't know how that will happen, but we're on a journey without a clear destination, so we'll just have to trust in God's providence.
During our time in June, we were able to launch our new book, Transcendent Joy, which can be viewed on Amazon.com. It is a book that makes ME happy to read, so we brought a copy back here for the "down days," if there are any. Vincent suggests that I start another, writing about the artisans we have met who have touched us with their courage, grace and determination to make a better life for their children than they have had. If there is time in the next three months, I will.
We are still adjusting to and learning a different way of life. I am told (by the Ecuadorian consulate in Chicago) that jobs are very scarce. There are a lot of small business enterprises--micro, really, for many--where people combine their work with their daily chores. If the children are not in school, they play in the yard or the shop, wherever their parents are, or if they're old enough, they help. Some people do daily agricultural or cleaning work, others have small convenience stores in their homes, others are fortunate enough to have skills in producing crafts for export. The big factories are on the coast, not here, so there's no real slave labor. However, life here is much simpler, much less expensive (for us, not necessarily the ordinary citizens of Ecuador), and at a much more steady pace. When we were back in the U.S., for example, we felt literally bombarded whenever we entered a retail store or grocery--too many choices, too much pressure to buy, buy, buy. It was also very difficult to fit in visits with people we really wanted to see--either their schedule or ours was full. Not a problem here, but maybe that is because it is necessarily a smaller number of people, having arrived here only six months ago. No one expects a dishwasher or a vacuum cleaner or a car or a dryer for laundry or hot water in the kitchen sink, even though Ecuador is not a poor country. It's just not a part of the landscape, and I had no idea how much I did NOT miss those things, nor how much they complicate my life in the U.S. until now.
I was very happy to witness the regrowth of Ten Thousand Villages Evanston, which you know Vincent and I played a big part in opening. They had been in some bad straits early last year, so it was good to see the renewal of hope and energy, brought about by the staff and the new manager, Joseph. I thank him for taking such good care of "my baby." I know some of the artisans their work is benefiting, and they are grateful, too.
This afternoon, we will get ourselves unpacked and buy groceries for next week. Tomorrow we hope the sun will shine and we can do the laundry. Thank you all for your friendship and love. We are very blessed whatever country we are in because of you guys.
Love,
Susanne & Vincent
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Tuesday, March 24, 2015 Coastal Character
Elizabeth got us up for breakfast and had the taxi at the door just before we were supposed to depart. She had bought the bus tickets in advance and we jumped on it just before it pulled out of the station. It was both air-conditioned and roomy. Having been hot and steamy for days, we really, REALLY appreciated it. We had Washington's phone number (our host for the next week), Elizabeth had packed some lunch, and we felt very cared for. The trip was comfortable with the usual long line of vendors hopping on at each stop, pitching their wares, one of them even doing some sort of evangelism while he was selling candy and soliciting contributions. They have a way of handing you the packaged candy or cookies or chips in what seems to be a gift and then giving their pitch at the front of the bus and coming back later asking you to pay for it. What is amazing to me is that it seems to work.
One woman earlier on in our journey had even climbed the bus to tell people she was out of money and needed a bus ticket home, and could they please help her. I couldn't see how people were responding, but this came back to mind as this gentleman was selling his "candy-sweet" gospel. This time people really did respond, and he was very grateful. It's not that we haven't seen this before. In Chicago on the Els it used to be very, very common. But Chicago put a stop to it. Here there were at least ten vendors walking through the bus with some local food at the major stops, and at least four or five at the small ones. It seems that a bus coming through town (no matter how small the bus or the town) is a major income opportunity for people. If it's not working, why does it continue?
The scenery we saw was very, very beautiful on this trip. Many banana plantations dot the route through the foothills of the Andes. As you get near the coast, the landscape changes to sand, agave and sagebrush--desert-types. Manta is a pretty big town. When we arrived, we telephoned Washington and he said he would meet us at the bus station. We waited about half an hour and then called him again. Which station are you in? he asked. Oh dear, there are TWO bus stations in Manta, and this is the station where only one bus line comes in. He had thought we would arrive in the main one. Only a few minutes later, he drove up in a car that was new in the 1980's--or earlier, we could not tell. Vincent called it a MacGyver vehicle, from the popular science show way back. However, it ran well and held seven of us at a time as we bounced and jounced over the rutted roads. There were so many things wrong with the body of this vehicle, and he starts it by jumping two wires hanging out of the dash. Vincent just laughed and laughed when Washington said we had to fasten our seat belts because the police would fine him $25 if we didn't. Vincent was thinking to himself, what about the hood that comes unlatched and flies up whenever the fancy strikes? And the doors that barely close? And the rust all around the frame that promises one day passengers in this vehicle will be dumped out onto the road? Apparently, those are not a problem in Ecuador--just unfastened seat belts.
Washington is a diminutive man--about five feet tall and 110 pounds. We knew he had been very ill for several years before we met him, and he later told us he had lost 90 pounds and then as he got better added about thirty. He showed us pictures of himself before this disease had taken its toll, and there was a short, muscular, sturdy looking fellow with a mustache looking out at us. He looks very different from the picture now. It is some type of disease similar to hepatitis, but his cells are attacking each other as if they were not part of the same organism. We knew very little of this at the time, though. His wife Alba is very beautiful, in her early 30's. They have three children, Pamela 16, Jorge 14, and Daniel 3. Pame (PAH-may) sat in the back seat of the car with me as we bounced along toward their home. We connected very well--she is the same age as my granddaughter, Amber.
Washington is a great joker and has a lively sense of humor. He enjoyed teasing us about our lack of Spanish, but it was very gentle, so we didn't feel offended. Pame had given up her room for us. Theirs is a simple home they have built themselves, always full of people--neighbors and relatives, just stopping by for a chat or a meal. Most of the homes here are built of concrete block and finished iside with plaster over the blocks. Alba cooked for us three times a day, and piled our plates with mountains of food. This first night, we could not say no. We did our best to eat what she had cooked, but honestly, a troop of soldiers carrying full gear could have feasted on what she gave each one of us. Daniel was a delight. He has a million-dollar smile, we told Washington. Daniel loves old cowboy series like Bonanza and High Chaparral, also James Bond and Johnny English. Remember these, because they will figure largely in the next week. Daniel also loves riding his mother's broom (read: horse) all around the kitchen and living room. This we learned on day one.
There was no internet access in the house, but their family owns an internet cafe three doors down, so if we were really stuck, we could go down there. We learned later that there is (somewhat spotty) internet access on the roof of their house, very close to the edge, so we went up there most times, except in the rain, which on the coast of Ecuador is torrential, and no one goes out in it if it can be helped.
There are three Bajos right in a row, Washington explained. Theirs is the last of the series. The other two are "Bajo" (under) something else. This one had the usual complement of dogs and chickens running around. Washington and Alba have a rooster and a bunch of hens, all of whom are seriously dominated by the rooster and hens from Washington's mother's and older sister's house next door. They are also raising two pigs, who get all the family's leftovers.
After dinner, Vincent went with several family members to visit Alba's family, while I tried to tune into my lessons in Washington's mother's house next door. For some reason, I couldn't connect there consistently, so I gave up and went back to the house. Vincent returned and we went to sleep in Pame's room, without noticing the large yellow mosquito net in one corner of the room. Well, I say not noticing, but it was more like having no clue what it was for. There were hooks on the walls to tie the corners to so it would be held up like a tent over the bed. Why? Well, of course, because there are mosquitoes on any southern coast, even in the U.S.--even in Evanston, where we live. However, Evanston has trucks that go around after the rains spraying pesticide fog all around. Roads here have deep potholes that fill with rain, and no amount of spraying would help. So duh, we got bitten all night, a tasty feast of thick North American and Irish blood for the local vampires. I mean, mosquitoes. By morning, we were very, very swollen and itchy in places.
One woman earlier on in our journey had even climbed the bus to tell people she was out of money and needed a bus ticket home, and could they please help her. I couldn't see how people were responding, but this came back to mind as this gentleman was selling his "candy-sweet" gospel. This time people really did respond, and he was very grateful. It's not that we haven't seen this before. In Chicago on the Els it used to be very, very common. But Chicago put a stop to it. Here there were at least ten vendors walking through the bus with some local food at the major stops, and at least four or five at the small ones. It seems that a bus coming through town (no matter how small the bus or the town) is a major income opportunity for people. If it's not working, why does it continue?
The scenery we saw was very, very beautiful on this trip. Many banana plantations dot the route through the foothills of the Andes. As you get near the coast, the landscape changes to sand, agave and sagebrush--desert-types. Manta is a pretty big town. When we arrived, we telephoned Washington and he said he would meet us at the bus station. We waited about half an hour and then called him again. Which station are you in? he asked. Oh dear, there are TWO bus stations in Manta, and this is the station where only one bus line comes in. He had thought we would arrive in the main one. Only a few minutes later, he drove up in a car that was new in the 1980's--or earlier, we could not tell. Vincent called it a MacGyver vehicle, from the popular science show way back. However, it ran well and held seven of us at a time as we bounced and jounced over the rutted roads. There were so many things wrong with the body of this vehicle, and he starts it by jumping two wires hanging out of the dash. Vincent just laughed and laughed when Washington said we had to fasten our seat belts because the police would fine him $25 if we didn't. Vincent was thinking to himself, what about the hood that comes unlatched and flies up whenever the fancy strikes? And the doors that barely close? And the rust all around the frame that promises one day passengers in this vehicle will be dumped out onto the road? Apparently, those are not a problem in Ecuador--just unfastened seat belts.
Washington is a diminutive man--about five feet tall and 110 pounds. We knew he had been very ill for several years before we met him, and he later told us he had lost 90 pounds and then as he got better added about thirty. He showed us pictures of himself before this disease had taken its toll, and there was a short, muscular, sturdy looking fellow with a mustache looking out at us. He looks very different from the picture now. It is some type of disease similar to hepatitis, but his cells are attacking each other as if they were not part of the same organism. We knew very little of this at the time, though. His wife Alba is very beautiful, in her early 30's. They have three children, Pamela 16, Jorge 14, and Daniel 3. Pame (PAH-may) sat in the back seat of the car with me as we bounced along toward their home. We connected very well--she is the same age as my granddaughter, Amber.
Washington is a great joker and has a lively sense of humor. He enjoyed teasing us about our lack of Spanish, but it was very gentle, so we didn't feel offended. Pame had given up her room for us. Theirs is a simple home they have built themselves, always full of people--neighbors and relatives, just stopping by for a chat or a meal. Most of the homes here are built of concrete block and finished iside with plaster over the blocks. Alba cooked for us three times a day, and piled our plates with mountains of food. This first night, we could not say no. We did our best to eat what she had cooked, but honestly, a troop of soldiers carrying full gear could have feasted on what she gave each one of us. Daniel was a delight. He has a million-dollar smile, we told Washington. Daniel loves old cowboy series like Bonanza and High Chaparral, also James Bond and Johnny English. Remember these, because they will figure largely in the next week. Daniel also loves riding his mother's broom (read: horse) all around the kitchen and living room. This we learned on day one.
There was no internet access in the house, but their family owns an internet cafe three doors down, so if we were really stuck, we could go down there. We learned later that there is (somewhat spotty) internet access on the roof of their house, very close to the edge, so we went up there most times, except in the rain, which on the coast of Ecuador is torrential, and no one goes out in it if it can be helped.
There are three Bajos right in a row, Washington explained. Theirs is the last of the series. The other two are "Bajo" (under) something else. This one had the usual complement of dogs and chickens running around. Washington and Alba have a rooster and a bunch of hens, all of whom are seriously dominated by the rooster and hens from Washington's mother's and older sister's house next door. They are also raising two pigs, who get all the family's leftovers.
After dinner, Vincent went with several family members to visit Alba's family, while I tried to tune into my lessons in Washington's mother's house next door. For some reason, I couldn't connect there consistently, so I gave up and went back to the house. Vincent returned and we went to sleep in Pame's room, without noticing the large yellow mosquito net in one corner of the room. Well, I say not noticing, but it was more like having no clue what it was for. There were hooks on the walls to tie the corners to so it would be held up like a tent over the bed. Why? Well, of course, because there are mosquitoes on any southern coast, even in the U.S.--even in Evanston, where we live. However, Evanston has trucks that go around after the rains spraying pesticide fog all around. Roads here have deep potholes that fill with rain, and no amount of spraying would help. So duh, we got bitten all night, a tasty feast of thick North American and Irish blood for the local vampires. I mean, mosquitoes. By morning, we were very, very swollen and itchy in places.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015 Under the Palm Tree
After breakfast this morning, Washington invited us to his workshop for the interview. His first question was why are we here? He has been working with Chris for years--Chris brought a couple of tours to see him, but he has never met Romel, the artisan rep nor even Elizabeth, the South American manager who lives the closest. Why now these gringos who come and want to ask him questions? We explained that we are trying to help the artisans sell their products better by supplying some background to the story. He seemed to accept that, and told us he had been working on carving tagua animals for most of his adult life. He showed us the illustrated wildlife book he uses to make the designs. First he chooses the tagua nut that is the right shape for the animal he wants to make.
Compared to all the other tagua carvers we have seen, Washington is a Michelangelo. His figures have a lot of detail, but more importantly, their poses are very lifelike. You almost want to back away from the miniature elephant or lion because of their imposing presentation.
At 10 am, we took a break to Skype with the U.S. They have an idea they would like us to stay for a couple of more months to finish the reorganization we have started here. We agreed to discuss it, but the internet connection was so poor that we had to postpone it until the following week.
We continued the demonstration that Washington had started in the workshop. The steps are intricate and quick. We watched the elephant taking shape under his hands with amazement. There are a couple of rotary saws he uses enclosed in a wooden box to keep chips from flying into his face. Then he has several small size electric hand drills to shape the fine details or in some cases, make holes to insert tail, ears or tusks.
After the animal was shaped, Washington brought it to his sister, Irlanda, who helps him in the work. She has a rotary sander she uses to give the animals a high polish. She uses three different grades of sandpaper and a kaolin clay and buffer to give it the final shine. Then she returned it to Washington.
He looked it over carefully for flaws, then chose a tagua nut to be the base, planed it off top and bottom, carved our names with his drill, cut the tusk piece in half and inserted the halves into the holes he had already drilled, and voila! there is our elephant. The entire process took about half an hour. We were very impressed with his skill and dexterity. His fingers seemed to us to come perilously close to the saws. He clearly knew what he was doing, and hasn't had any major accidents in all the years he's been doing this. Still, we breathed easier when he took up the drill or sander.
At lunch, Washington told us that Manta is considered the tuna capital of the world. Alba served fresh-caught tuna so perfectly cooked and seasoned, it made me want to cry for all the cans of tuna I have consumed without ever discovering what tuna really tastes like. Wow! Heavenly!
It is very hot and humid on the coast of Ecuador. This causes it to rain a lot, as all that evaporated sea water can't stay and accumulate in the air indefinitely. However . . . never in my life have I seen such rain as fell this afternoon! The water was beginning to back up toward the house, so Jorge took off his shirt and waded out into the mud of the tiny front yard with a shovel to do some civil engineering--flood relief, actually. He dug a ditch right next to the concrete slab in front of the door, lined it with bricks and rocks and the water ran off down the slight hill beside the house. It was nice and cool afterwards. It rained and rained and it was so heavy, I was sure it would stop soon, but it did not! No wonder the vegetation is sparse here--the water must wash all the seeds away before they can grow roots to hold on with. The heat is causing my ankles and legs to swell. It is scary-looking to the family, but only painful to me.
In the afternoon, Vincent made a slide show for the family, using the "007" theme. Everyone was delighted with this gift. How special it was to see their family all represented in the record of their activities in the past two days. It is something Vincent has learned how to do that blesses our hosts very much. We are both so happy to see their delighted smiles and hear their laughter.
Just before sundown we went up to the roof to check e-mail and were delighted to see several lorakeets in the scrub trees behind the house. The birds are so colorful here. The national bird is the picaflor--the hummingbird. Their emerald and scarlet are everywhere. There is a Kingdom Hall (church) right beside Washington's house, and it is beautifully kept and landscaped. It grows like a tidy mushroom right out of the jungle and waste land.
Washington has a really tiny apartment on the roof where two young Jehovah's Witnesses live. I can't imagine two people living in that space, but they came out to talk with us. They are missionaries, so every morning they go out to preach, i.e., read the Bible to neighbors in this small town. Life here is calm, proceeding at an unhurried pace. When the sun sets, we all go to the front door to watch it. Friends and relatives drop in, chat for a while, then others replace them. Alba cooks dinner and we stuff ourselves with her delicious food.
Tonight we learned what the mosquito net was for--a much more peaceful sleep this night.
Compared to all the other tagua carvers we have seen, Washington is a Michelangelo. His figures have a lot of detail, but more importantly, their poses are very lifelike. You almost want to back away from the miniature elephant or lion because of their imposing presentation.
At 10 am, we took a break to Skype with the U.S. They have an idea they would like us to stay for a couple of more months to finish the reorganization we have started here. We agreed to discuss it, but the internet connection was so poor that we had to postpone it until the following week.
We continued the demonstration that Washington had started in the workshop. The steps are intricate and quick. We watched the elephant taking shape under his hands with amazement. There are a couple of rotary saws he uses enclosed in a wooden box to keep chips from flying into his face. Then he has several small size electric hand drills to shape the fine details or in some cases, make holes to insert tail, ears or tusks.
After the animal was shaped, Washington brought it to his sister, Irlanda, who helps him in the work. She has a rotary sander she uses to give the animals a high polish. She uses three different grades of sandpaper and a kaolin clay and buffer to give it the final shine. Then she returned it to Washington.
He looked it over carefully for flaws, then chose a tagua nut to be the base, planed it off top and bottom, carved our names with his drill, cut the tusk piece in half and inserted the halves into the holes he had already drilled, and voila! there is our elephant. The entire process took about half an hour. We were very impressed with his skill and dexterity. His fingers seemed to us to come perilously close to the saws. He clearly knew what he was doing, and hasn't had any major accidents in all the years he's been doing this. Still, we breathed easier when he took up the drill or sander.
At lunch, Washington told us that Manta is considered the tuna capital of the world. Alba served fresh-caught tuna so perfectly cooked and seasoned, it made me want to cry for all the cans of tuna I have consumed without ever discovering what tuna really tastes like. Wow! Heavenly!
It is very hot and humid on the coast of Ecuador. This causes it to rain a lot, as all that evaporated sea water can't stay and accumulate in the air indefinitely. However . . . never in my life have I seen such rain as fell this afternoon! The water was beginning to back up toward the house, so Jorge took off his shirt and waded out into the mud of the tiny front yard with a shovel to do some civil engineering--flood relief, actually. He dug a ditch right next to the concrete slab in front of the door, lined it with bricks and rocks and the water ran off down the slight hill beside the house. It was nice and cool afterwards. It rained and rained and it was so heavy, I was sure it would stop soon, but it did not! No wonder the vegetation is sparse here--the water must wash all the seeds away before they can grow roots to hold on with. The heat is causing my ankles and legs to swell. It is scary-looking to the family, but only painful to me.
In the afternoon, Vincent made a slide show for the family, using the "007" theme. Everyone was delighted with this gift. How special it was to see their family all represented in the record of their activities in the past two days. It is something Vincent has learned how to do that blesses our hosts very much. We are both so happy to see their delighted smiles and hear their laughter.
Just before sundown we went up to the roof to check e-mail and were delighted to see several lorakeets in the scrub trees behind the house. The birds are so colorful here. The national bird is the picaflor--the hummingbird. Their emerald and scarlet are everywhere. There is a Kingdom Hall (church) right beside Washington's house, and it is beautifully kept and landscaped. It grows like a tidy mushroom right out of the jungle and waste land.
Washington has a really tiny apartment on the roof where two young Jehovah's Witnesses live. I can't imagine two people living in that space, but they came out to talk with us. They are missionaries, so every morning they go out to preach, i.e., read the Bible to neighbors in this small town. Life here is calm, proceeding at an unhurried pace. When the sun sets, we all go to the front door to watch it. Friends and relatives drop in, chat for a while, then others replace them. Alba cooks dinner and we stuff ourselves with her delicious food.
Tonight we learned what the mosquito net was for--a much more peaceful sleep this night.
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