El Oriente, a.k.a. the Amazon (part 1)

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Originally uploaded by alexandra_stanculescu.

To the east of the Andean highlands that streak the center of Ecuador, the terrain slopes abruptly. With its decent, the air becomes thicker, the plants larger, and life ripens more intensely. The haphazardly constructed road snakes its way down from the Quito into el Oriente, home to the tributaries of the Amazon.

Fueling the world’s curiosity, stories of Amazonian women and anacondas have earned a life of their own, set free from their birthplace in the jungle. But it is not only outside of the jungle that such stories reside. They hang in the dense jungle air, permeating the rhythms of life: headhunters, spear wielding natives, forest spirits, brujeria (black magic), the powers of medicinal plants, indigenous groups that have not made contact with the West.

In the ecotourism lodge run by the village of Caipiruna, we got our first, though somewhat prepackaged taste of life in these jungle communities. We wandered through the thickets, examining medicinal plants and marveling at the verdant growth upon growth of jungle life, returning by water on long boats hollowed out of tree trunks, followed by a dip in the river. During meals we were accompanied by a baby tarantula in the corner of the open aired dining area. After blow dart gun practice, using an intricately made 8 ft hollow tube, we took a look at their traditional style of basket weaving, followed by an evening of traditional music and dancing.

Returning to their cabin later that evening, a student noticed that her mosquito net had been moved. Upon further examination, it seemed that a thief had come through several rooms, found peoples wallets in their bags, taken a $20 bill per person, and returned everything to its original position. While launching us into the suspicion of a detective novel, the crime struck a deeper cord, preying on the poignant reality that a westerner with so much money would likely not notice the difference; And so concluded the double edged lessons of the tourism industry.

The following day, we set forth to Venecia, a village on the banks of the Napo where Todd, a professor at the University of Arizona had set up a field site. The child of missionary doctors, Todd had grown up in the area, and served as a bridge between local and western culture. Over the course of several talks, he explained the local health paradigm; the flow of energy through the mountain and river, the powers of the shaman, the seductive forest spirits, the 90% homicide rate due to invisible darts shot at the heart. He offered a taste of this protected culture.

It was Todd that led us up the river where Kyle fell in love with a waterfall, it was Todd to took us to sleep on a platform in the depths of the jungle, and it was Todd that took us to visit the Shaman where Kyle was cleansed for his own protection. . .to be continued in part 2.

San Clemente

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Originally uploaded by alexandra_stanculescu.

The chickens at Jaime and Luz Maria´s house spend their time scuttling around the yard and around the house. They live in the walnut tree to the side of the kitchen. Neither Jaime nor Luz Maria know how many chickens they have. To collect the eggs, they hung a basket from the overhanging roof behind the kitchen. The chickens walk up a wooden plank and lay their eggs in the basket. How very cooperative of the chickens.

In the indigenous village of San Clemente, at the foot of the the venerable Taita Imbabura (a sizable mountain, and also the lover of Mama Cotacachi another mountain in the area), the couple live and farm the land that had been passed to them from Jaime´s father.

Set in the beautiful countryside above the city of Ibarra, San Clemete is picturesque. Rolling hills, fields, animals living in harmony with their owners. It is hard to imagine that in their all to recent history, all of the land in sight was legally owned by single hacienda, and the people, who had farmed the land long before the hacienda arrived, were forced to work the land for its new owners. It wasn´t until the agrarian reform in the mid 1960´s that the haciendas were divided and land rights given to the indigenous people.

We arrived to spend the weekend with indigenous families and run another set of health clinics for both people and animals. The animal clinic was a success as shoeless grandparents brought the family pigs, some huge bulls and cows, a handful of well mannered llamas, and sheep to be dewormed. For any of a number of reasons, there was little turn out for the people clinic, so we walked up the hill to watch the Ecuador vs. Ingleterra world cup match. To the nation´s great dissapointment, it was to be Ecuador´s final match, lost in a well placed free kick by Beckham.

In preparation for dinner that night, Jen and I watched as Luz Maria made tortillas over the open fire that filled a third of their old kitchen. Around the fire, 20-30 guinea pigs scampered freely. Luz Maria´s youngest son, seven months old, spent most of the day strapped to back. For the tortilla making however, he was tucked in blankets and set in a cardboard box by her side as she worked to prepare the infamous San Clemente tortillas, reputed for their flavor, and also known to mysteriously expand in ones stomach.

We spent a lovely weekend amongst family, eating from the land, and fitting in as comfortably as the guinea pigs around the fire or chickens in the walnut tree, content with the natural rhythms, a sense of place, and a feeling of home.

Only a couple days left of Spanish class, and then, el Oriente (the Amazon) . . .

Inti Raymi: Fiesta del Sol

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Originally uploaded by alexandra_stanculescu.

We arrived at the Plaza de Ponchos where, to the sides of the normal artisan market, they had built bleachers and a stage in preparation for the festivities.
For a month every summer, the Sierra shakes as every indigenous town in the area throws a party in celebration of the harvest. Both days and nights are filled with music, dancing, animals, costumes and merrymaking in traditional Incan style.
During the day, different groups of 10-20 people perform around the main square, in traditional dress, costumes, face paint, sometimes on horses, sometimes carrying live chickens hanging from a branch. Once the sun goes down though, everyone joins in the circle dancing. The musicians cluster in the center with harmonica, guitar, flute, and drums, and turn as they play. The crowd encircles them and the entire dancing entity spins as a musical wheel. Whenever the crowd is so inspired, someone calls "Vuelta!" which is quickly followed by an echo of vueltas everyone in the wheel turns around and starts the wheel spinning the other direction. With an loud "uno, dos, trece" the entire circle replies with a rhythmic chant of "he he he he."
The dancing wheels then circulate around the main square, down side streets and back to the square again. People flow in and out of the wheels, each wheel with its own character. I left the party at dawn as some were still dancing while others were already beginning to set up their stalls again for the the days artisan market.