I am writing to tell you about our trip and safe arrival in Aucapata before I go down stairs and join Jim and Ernesto in unpacking boxes. At 2 pm yesterday, March 4th, we joined Yumey and Yvonne at the new Ivar Mendez Foundation office in LaPaz. A decrepid old bus sat empty in the driveway, (no heat, reclining seats or bano in this bus). In less than two hours, we had loaded the bus with beds on the roof, a refridgerator inside and boxes and boxes and boxes. There was barely room left in the bus for Jim and Ernesto and me. On we hopped. The bus wouldn´t start so our driver, Juan Carlos, fiddled under the hood to get the bus started. An ominious sign,I thought. The City of La Paz is at the bottom of a high mountain valley. The city has grown so that all the surrounding hills are narrow streets edged with layered buildings in adobe, brick and occationally finished with painted stucco. For some reason, we needed to take a back way up out of town. This necessitated Renesto jumping off the bus to scout the route, (not always successfully).At one point we pulled a uturn on a narrow steep streeet and Jim and I were both concerned that the bus might rool. After more than a hour, we reached El Alto, the large upper city. Roads here were flooded and traffic was detoured on rough muddy tracks. We made one stop to pick up the bus driver´s wife and young daughter. The ominous beginning faded because I felt with the drivers wife and daughter on board we were probably in good hands.
After we left El Alto and it´s conjestion and poverty, the landscape until it got dark and we were in the mountains was captivating; soft green hills, lamas, pigs and people and a sprinkling of brown adove homes with snow capped mountains in behind. At our only official pit stop, we quickly took out our coats and hats, long underwear and mits. Bundled up, we were as comfomfortable as one can be in the dark on a very rough, winding narrow mountain road. At three a.m., after tightly manouvering around a truck parked in a dark narrow street, we stopped and the bus driver immediately started unlading the bus. We were ¨home¨in Aucapata having made record time. The renovated I.M.I.F. House in Aucapata was waiting for us. Unfortunately, since we are the first people using this house, it is absolutely bare (or was until we filled the first room with beds and boxes). I had envisioned unpacking our food into kitchen cupboards and getting my clothes out of the back pack for three weeks, not cupboards or closets. At four AM as I was unloading boxes, I was mentally comparing this house to the one I had on Quirpon Island, Newfoundland.
This morning, I am again ready for adventure and hardwork. Tomorrow, we start teaching so today is our chance to make our house as much as a home as we can.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
March 3, 2011 La Paz Bolivia
The past week in La Paz has been hard work, exciting and totally exhausting; partly a result of my ongoing asthma, the high altitude, the long hours and okay probably being overweight and out of shape is partly to blame. We go to the Ivar Mendez International Foundation Office at nine every morning. Eventually we´re done work for the morning and I struggle up the hill to El Torino Hostel and then sturggle up one flight of stairs to the lobby and three more flights to our room. I fall into bed and power nap for as long as possible; one day, ten minutes but usually at least an hour. Then it´s back to work by three until seven. (The past two days we snuck out at six because we were both so tired.) We´ve been finalizing all our plans for our three weeks in Aucapata, and we were sourcing art supplies and compromising and adapting plans to what is available. Then, we actually had to buy the stuff, a 100 of each and each shop might have ten. The first morning we went sourcing supplies was the biggest challenge. We went with Lucy and Ernesto who will both be with us in Aucapata. Unfortunately neither speak any English and they had a list of supplies, but it wasn´t a list we were party too or that considered the projects I want to do. I was almost in tears as I kept trying to get them to stop buying things until we knew if we needed them. Eventually we returned to the office, and I was able to discuss the problem with the director Yumey. It has taken us the rest of the week but we do have all the supplies organized and packed and on Thursday we got our groceries. Even our drinking water has to be brought in so you can just imagine the amount of things. We are not sure that Ernest or Lucy or the dentist Amparo will be bringing their food (we hope so) but if they don´t we will feed them and send a big grocery list to come in with Ernest after week one.
Our hours for the upcoming three weeks are extensive but I am still hoping to have enough energy left over for some painting. In Aucapata, where we will be sharing a house with Ernesto, Lucy and Amparo, we teach from 10 until lunchtime which is 2 pm.
We have fourty students for the four hours twice a week. On Tuesdays and Fridays, we walk to Cosnipata, a close village (20 minutes down hill) where we have twenty-eight students and on Wednesdays we walk to Charaj, fourty-five minutes along and then another ten minutes steeply down. We have eighteen students in Charaj. In addition, we have after school classes every day at our house at 4 pm and also all day Saturday. For these, I´m hoping to paint and whoever shows up can paint with me or they can work with Lucy.
Yesterday, since the bulk of buying and packing was done, we visited two other projects that the IMIF helps in La Paz. In the morning, we went to an orphanage CATI. It´s not an orphanage in our sense of the word but rather an integrated emergency day care (between 7 am and 7 pm) for children, zero to aged sixteen. These kids might be living on the street or living without adequate parental care because their parents are in prison, mentally ill or having addiction problems. CATI was started by a German Foundation and is now also funded by the Protestant Churches in La Paz. The IMIF provides the dental care. It was fun to paint a couple of the kids and when we come back to La Paz, hopefully we´ll be able to do a couple of days of art projects there.
In the afternoon, we visited a community health centre funded by the catholic church. They provide excellent primary health care as well as dental care and they also do education for teachers of special needs kids. They have five dental offices. Four are very old and very basic but one is state of the art and has been provided by the Ivar Mendez Internation Foundation.
During all of this week of planning and shopping, our enviroment in the office is quiet but when we step out onto the street, it is a dizzying mixture of smells, sounds, traffic and confusion. Everyday there are more than a hundred police on our street. Our hotel area has been blockaded for the past three months because it is close to the presidencial palace. In the morning sometimes we find two lines of police, shoulder to shoulder with shields and face shields, wearing flack jackets and with guns. Mid day the blockade might have ended and the police, while still there, are just lining the streets and then later again they are stopping all traffic and only letting pedestrian through with a reason. Whenever the blockade is down, the street sellers, beggars and the traffic instantly reappear.
The Cholas, the indigenious women, wear small woolen bowler hats,and a huge glittery shawl over a multilayered very full glittery skirt. The woman has to be very pump in order to carry this fashion off and this is the standard of beauty. I am always interested in what is beauty because of being an artists. For my art creation, I can only hope to realize my perception of beauty which is very much shaped by my culture. It is so interesting that beauty can be so entirely different in other cultures.
Well we leave later today by bus for Aucapata and we will not have internet for the next three weeks. This doesn´t mean however that we won´t be thinking of you and we hope you´ll continue to think of us.
Hugs
Joy
ps I´m really excited about our art projects, all on the theme ¨Tus dientes limpios permanmecen para siempre¨ A full report of the actual projects and the results will follow upon our return to La Paz.
Our hours for the upcoming three weeks are extensive but I am still hoping to have enough energy left over for some painting. In Aucapata, where we will be sharing a house with Ernesto, Lucy and Amparo, we teach from 10 until lunchtime which is 2 pm.
We have fourty students for the four hours twice a week. On Tuesdays and Fridays, we walk to Cosnipata, a close village (20 minutes down hill) where we have twenty-eight students and on Wednesdays we walk to Charaj, fourty-five minutes along and then another ten minutes steeply down. We have eighteen students in Charaj. In addition, we have after school classes every day at our house at 4 pm and also all day Saturday. For these, I´m hoping to paint and whoever shows up can paint with me or they can work with Lucy.
Yesterday, since the bulk of buying and packing was done, we visited two other projects that the IMIF helps in La Paz. In the morning, we went to an orphanage CATI. It´s not an orphanage in our sense of the word but rather an integrated emergency day care (between 7 am and 7 pm) for children, zero to aged sixteen. These kids might be living on the street or living without adequate parental care because their parents are in prison, mentally ill or having addiction problems. CATI was started by a German Foundation and is now also funded by the Protestant Churches in La Paz. The IMIF provides the dental care. It was fun to paint a couple of the kids and when we come back to La Paz, hopefully we´ll be able to do a couple of days of art projects there.
In the afternoon, we visited a community health centre funded by the catholic church. They provide excellent primary health care as well as dental care and they also do education for teachers of special needs kids. They have five dental offices. Four are very old and very basic but one is state of the art and has been provided by the Ivar Mendez Internation Foundation.
During all of this week of planning and shopping, our enviroment in the office is quiet but when we step out onto the street, it is a dizzying mixture of smells, sounds, traffic and confusion. Everyday there are more than a hundred police on our street. Our hotel area has been blockaded for the past three months because it is close to the presidencial palace. In the morning sometimes we find two lines of police, shoulder to shoulder with shields and face shields, wearing flack jackets and with guns. Mid day the blockade might have ended and the police, while still there, are just lining the streets and then later again they are stopping all traffic and only letting pedestrian through with a reason. Whenever the blockade is down, the street sellers, beggars and the traffic instantly reappear.
The Cholas, the indigenious women, wear small woolen bowler hats,and a huge glittery shawl over a multilayered very full glittery skirt. The woman has to be very pump in order to carry this fashion off and this is the standard of beauty. I am always interested in what is beauty because of being an artists. For my art creation, I can only hope to realize my perception of beauty which is very much shaped by my culture. It is so interesting that beauty can be so entirely different in other cultures.
Well we leave later today by bus for Aucapata and we will not have internet for the next three weeks. This doesn´t mean however that we won´t be thinking of you and we hope you´ll continue to think of us.
Hugs
Joy
ps I´m really excited about our art projects, all on the theme ¨Tus dientes limpios permanmecen para siempre¨ A full report of the actual projects and the results will follow upon our return to La Paz.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
February 24, 2012
Jim and I have spent the last three days in the mountain city of Huarez Peru. It´s in a high valley (3000m) between the Cordillera Negro and the much higher Cordillera Blanco (over 6000m). The buildings in this area are relatively new since an earth quake in 1970 leveled much of the area and killed 70,000 people.
One of the first things that we noticed is that the ladies hats here have a much much higher crown than we have seen elsewhere. The top is dented like a fedora. On one side of the crown is a large semi circular design made of folded fabric. Sometimes the design is the same colour as the hat and sometimes it is dramatically different. The basic hat is not wool but rather a finely woven cotton or linen. Just at the crown flairs out to a wide upturned brim, there is a one and a half inch fabric band. The ladies all have two usually scruffy braids in their hair and the rest of their costume is similiar to many of the indigenious costumes of South America; multi-coloured blouse, a very very full solid coloured skirt edged in decorations, a bib apron and then a commercial peruvian blanket over the shoulders. This blanket is a baby carrier when needed, a hay or stick carrier or it will even hold a bomba or bricks. In Huarez, multi-coloured leggings are worn under the skirt. The leggings end in baggy flesh coloured stockings and loafers or sneakers. Men wear ordinary work clothes and the kids wear colourful North American clothing.
(An aside
The costumes in Saragura Ecuador (which Jim and visited last week and which is now my new favourite South American village) were very appealing. Men, women and kids all wore traditional clothing. Both men and women had one long thick beautiful braid (probably freshly done everyday). Also everyone was so glad to see us since Saragura is off the tourist trail. The men wore bermuda length black trousers and a woven dark red and black poncho or a black shawl and a black fedora. The women wore a narrow, slightly pleated black skirt, a detailed white blouse tooped with a 6 inch wide beaded necklace. They wore a black poncho over one shoulder. The poncho was fastened with a large silver pin and they also wore large sliver earrings. A small brimmed round black felt hat completed their outfit.)
Right now we are on an eight hour bus headed to Lima. It appears that this entire mountain is sand, To the left the mountain rises almost vertically to the sky. Some areas are strung with what I would call ¨snow¨fencing, obviously to slow down drifting sand. To the right, the sand falls away, hundreds of feet vertically to the pale Pacific. How a narrow paved road could be engineered to stay on this sand base is a miracle to both Jim and me.
Tomorrow morning we will be at the airport at 4:30 am to catch a plane to La Paz. The next phase of our trip will be preparing for our trip into Aucapata, buying enough food for ourselves and are supplies for three weeks of classes with over 100 kids. I´m not at all worried about the isolated envciroment. It´s my communication skills that are a worry as my Spanish is even worse that I thought it was!
One of the first things that we noticed is that the ladies hats here have a much much higher crown than we have seen elsewhere. The top is dented like a fedora. On one side of the crown is a large semi circular design made of folded fabric. Sometimes the design is the same colour as the hat and sometimes it is dramatically different. The basic hat is not wool but rather a finely woven cotton or linen. Just at the crown flairs out to a wide upturned brim, there is a one and a half inch fabric band. The ladies all have two usually scruffy braids in their hair and the rest of their costume is similiar to many of the indigenious costumes of South America; multi-coloured blouse, a very very full solid coloured skirt edged in decorations, a bib apron and then a commercial peruvian blanket over the shoulders. This blanket is a baby carrier when needed, a hay or stick carrier or it will even hold a bomba or bricks. In Huarez, multi-coloured leggings are worn under the skirt. The leggings end in baggy flesh coloured stockings and loafers or sneakers. Men wear ordinary work clothes and the kids wear colourful North American clothing.
(An aside
The costumes in Saragura Ecuador (which Jim and visited last week and which is now my new favourite South American village) were very appealing. Men, women and kids all wore traditional clothing. Both men and women had one long thick beautiful braid (probably freshly done everyday). Also everyone was so glad to see us since Saragura is off the tourist trail. The men wore bermuda length black trousers and a woven dark red and black poncho or a black shawl and a black fedora. The women wore a narrow, slightly pleated black skirt, a detailed white blouse tooped with a 6 inch wide beaded necklace. They wore a black poncho over one shoulder. The poncho was fastened with a large silver pin and they also wore large sliver earrings. A small brimmed round black felt hat completed their outfit.)
Right now we are on an eight hour bus headed to Lima. It appears that this entire mountain is sand, To the left the mountain rises almost vertically to the sky. Some areas are strung with what I would call ¨snow¨fencing, obviously to slow down drifting sand. To the right, the sand falls away, hundreds of feet vertically to the pale Pacific. How a narrow paved road could be engineered to stay on this sand base is a miracle to both Jim and me.
Tomorrow morning we will be at the airport at 4:30 am to catch a plane to La Paz. The next phase of our trip will be preparing for our trip into Aucapata, buying enough food for ourselves and are supplies for three weeks of classes with over 100 kids. I´m not at all worried about the isolated envciroment. It´s my communication skills that are a worry as my Spanish is even worse that I thought it was!
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
February 22, 2012
Just a few notes to tell you about yesterday's challenges. I am not living up to Alegria or Joy; my pollyanna self that finds the joy in everything. Perhaps this is because of my troubling asthma but perhaps you will understand when I tell you just what the day was like.
It started early. We hadn't had a real meal the day before having been on buses for twelve hours travelling to the mountain town of Huarez, Peru. This explains why I was hungry. Jim and I walked several blocks into the centre of town. At the first restaurant, after receiving a menu, we sat for another twenty minutes before getting up and leaving. At the second restaurant, for Jim, I pointed to the continenal breakfast that was listed on a sign and then I pointed to the regional breakfast that was listed underneath it for me. After a half hour, a plate of trout and frenchfries arrived. Since this didn't look like a bun, I assumed it was my breakfast. A minute or so later another breakfast arrived. This one had two brown lumps and some potatoes. I flipped over one of the lumps and there were the little teeth, little eyes and four little little feet of the guineau pig. Certainly took my appetite away.
Jim thought we should try to arrange for our flight from Lima into La Paz and we found the local agent. After sitting with her for an hour, she told us to come back in at 12:30. We went out on the street to round up the cash only to discover that it was War Tuesday in Huarez. Apparently this is not nearly so bad now since several years ago the police outlawed the throwing of used engine oil. I still found it awful. The streets were clogged with gangs of young people armed with water buckets. Explosions kept going off. Most of the shops were closed and most people not enjoying the battles could stay home but we had to get money from bank machines and return to the travel agent. Then the airline was on lunch break and we had to return to the travel agent a third time at 3:30. Eventually the police shut down the war, we got our plane tickets and had supper. Then we stopped at an internet cafe so that I could update this blog. Suddenly I was violently ill, probably from the delicious supper.
Hence ended another day of travel.
It started early. We hadn't had a real meal the day before having been on buses for twelve hours travelling to the mountain town of Huarez, Peru. This explains why I was hungry. Jim and I walked several blocks into the centre of town. At the first restaurant, after receiving a menu, we sat for another twenty minutes before getting up and leaving. At the second restaurant, for Jim, I pointed to the continenal breakfast that was listed on a sign and then I pointed to the regional breakfast that was listed underneath it for me. After a half hour, a plate of trout and frenchfries arrived. Since this didn't look like a bun, I assumed it was my breakfast. A minute or so later another breakfast arrived. This one had two brown lumps and some potatoes. I flipped over one of the lumps and there were the little teeth, little eyes and four little little feet of the guineau pig. Certainly took my appetite away.
Jim thought we should try to arrange for our flight from Lima into La Paz and we found the local agent. After sitting with her for an hour, she told us to come back in at 12:30. We went out on the street to round up the cash only to discover that it was War Tuesday in Huarez. Apparently this is not nearly so bad now since several years ago the police outlawed the throwing of used engine oil. I still found it awful. The streets were clogged with gangs of young people armed with water buckets. Explosions kept going off. Most of the shops were closed and most people not enjoying the battles could stay home but we had to get money from bank machines and return to the travel agent. Then the airline was on lunch break and we had to return to the travel agent a third time at 3:30. Eventually the police shut down the war, we got our plane tickets and had supper. Then we stopped at an internet cafe so that I could update this blog. Suddenly I was violently ill, probably from the delicious supper.
Hence ended another day of travel.
February 18, and 19, 2012
On the 18th, we take a five hour bus ride to Piura, Peru. When we arrive Puira is crawling with taxis, tuk tuks and collectivos. We have to decide whether to find a hostal or whether to push on to hopefully someplace nicer, safer, quieter. We find a bus company with a bus to Chiclaya leaving 7pm which gives us two hours. Dragging my big wheeled pack with my little one on my front, we pick our way across eight lanes of traffice towards shade, beer and food.
At 7, we're back on a bus headed to Chicklaya. We arrive at 10 pm on a Saturday night during Carnival and most hostals are full. We have to go to eight of so before finding one that is clean, very hot, very noisy and for us somewhat expensive. The painting on this hotel room wall is of a large naked lady, colour coordinated to match the curtains.
Yesterday, February 19 was not a bus day! After checking out the local cathedral (standing room only) and having breakfast, we took a taxi to the next town to visit a museum on the Moche culture,Museo Reale Sipon. This is an exceptional world class musem. The building ia a huge red pyramid reflecting the pyramid that the Moche people built for the remains of the Senor of Sipon.
The displays are extensive and extremely well done. All of the achiological dig is documented in photos, panaramas and the actual finds. What struck me as ironic, is that the entire site was to insure everlasting life for the Moche chief complete with wives, extra women, a young boy, soldiers, animals and possession. In many ways, this extreme preparation for everlasting life has achieved just that. Seventeen hundred years after death, we are looking at the remains of these people and admiring all of the golden glory, sophisticated earthen ware and their metal tools. Collars have been reconstructed from the thousands of tiny shell beads. Glorious decorative friezes and wall paintings have been put back together from shards. The sophisticated society of the Moche hierarchy lives on. Whenever I see the fantastic old pots, gold work and wall paintings, I remember the artists who created all of this beauty.
Back in Chiclaya, I notice that one hotel has two huge reproduction King Tuts out front and that the Chiclaya city sign features Greek columns and Greek urns!
At 7, we're back on a bus headed to Chicklaya. We arrive at 10 pm on a Saturday night during Carnival and most hostals are full. We have to go to eight of so before finding one that is clean, very hot, very noisy and for us somewhat expensive. The painting on this hotel room wall is of a large naked lady, colour coordinated to match the curtains.
Yesterday, February 19 was not a bus day! After checking out the local cathedral (standing room only) and having breakfast, we took a taxi to the next town to visit a museum on the Moche culture,Museo Reale Sipon. This is an exceptional world class musem. The building ia a huge red pyramid reflecting the pyramid that the Moche people built for the remains of the Senor of Sipon.
The displays are extensive and extremely well done. All of the achiological dig is documented in photos, panaramas and the actual finds. What struck me as ironic, is that the entire site was to insure everlasting life for the Moche chief complete with wives, extra women, a young boy, soldiers, animals and possession. In many ways, this extreme preparation for everlasting life has achieved just that. Seventeen hundred years after death, we are looking at the remains of these people and admiring all of the golden glory, sophisticated earthen ware and their metal tools. Collars have been reconstructed from the thousands of tiny shell beads. Glorious decorative friezes and wall paintings have been put back together from shards. The sophisticated society of the Moche hierarchy lives on. Whenever I see the fantastic old pots, gold work and wall paintings, I remember the artists who created all of this beauty.
Back in Chiclaya, I notice that one hotel has two huge reproduction King Tuts out front and that the Chiclaya city sign features Greek columns and Greek urns!
February 18, Macara
Macara
a border town in Eucador next to Peru
It is noisy, very very noisy.
Trucks and vans with giant loud speakers
Continually blast down the streets;
Men shouting their pitches.
In front of the shops large boom boxes
Blare dance music.
The streets are full of trucks, buses,
Motorcycles, dirt bikes and ATV'S;
All are loaded with entire families.
All are blowing their horns.
It's hot, very very hot.
Empty hammocks are hung above
The steeply steps sidewalks.
Next to the hammocks,
There are cookers and people
serving up cerviche, sopa,
Swatting flies, deepfrying chicken,
Hustling teeshirts or sunglasses.
The children with their dark eyes
And hair, are all beautiful.
Draging my overstuffed wheeled packback,
While Jim lugs his,
It's a choice of dodging traffic
On the cobbled street,
Or humping up the steps on the sidewalk.
We reach Hostel El Conquistador.
The tiny dark room on the forth floor
Seems decadent with it's roaring air conditioning,
a toilet seat, limitless toilet paper,
And a print on the wall.
The art says nothing about
The charism or challenges that are Ecuador.
The image is a very pretty English thatched tutor cottage,
With leafless apple trees laden with blossoms,
A flower garden with a kalidoscope of blooms,
A stone bridge, a decorative water pump and a pond;
Only the swan is missing.
a border town in Eucador next to Peru
It is noisy, very very noisy.
Trucks and vans with giant loud speakers
Continually blast down the streets;
Men shouting their pitches.
In front of the shops large boom boxes
Blare dance music.
The streets are full of trucks, buses,
Motorcycles, dirt bikes and ATV'S;
All are loaded with entire families.
All are blowing their horns.
It's hot, very very hot.
Empty hammocks are hung above
The steeply steps sidewalks.
Next to the hammocks,
There are cookers and people
serving up cerviche, sopa,
Swatting flies, deepfrying chicken,
Hustling teeshirts or sunglasses.
The children with their dark eyes
And hair, are all beautiful.
Draging my overstuffed wheeled packback,
While Jim lugs his,
It's a choice of dodging traffic
On the cobbled street,
Or humping up the steps on the sidewalk.
We reach Hostel El Conquistador.
The tiny dark room on the forth floor
Seems decadent with it's roaring air conditioning,
a toilet seat, limitless toilet paper,
And a print on the wall.
The art says nothing about
The charism or challenges that are Ecuador.
The image is a very pretty English thatched tutor cottage,
With leafless apple trees laden with blossoms,
A flower garden with a kalidoscope of blooms,
A stone bridge, a decorative water pump and a pond;
Only the swan is missing.
Friday, February 17, 2012
February 17th, 2012
Early morning bus ride from Saraguro to Loja
Within a block of the bus station, we stop so that peddlers can cruise the bus selling chapa de papas, chocolate, ice cream, water and more of the amazing looking buns that are always disappointingly dry and tasteless. Outside the shop that the bus stops beside, hangs a pig and another lays on a table. Both have heads and legs intact. These carcasses illicit my sympathy. After the peddlers depart, the bus careens up and out of Saraguro. Our bodies vibrate to the ever present blast of South American dance music. We sway and rock while the bus races out of town hugging the winding mountain road. Quickly we are in a green mountain paradise. Large clumps of gigantic elephant grass, pines, eucolyptus, palm and banana are interspersed with fields of corn, spinkled on every mountain surface that can sustain them. Since planting and harvesting are all done by hand, only a verical slopè is too steep.
Occationally, we see horses, pigs, goats or sheep. The greens of fields and forests are broken with yellow/red sand slides or outdrops of ragged gray rock. As we reach the peak, we look down on the billowing cloud top. Above the sky is an intense blue.
At the next valley, we start our winding desent. Midway to the river, we pass a cluster of adobe houses. A few are stuccoed and painted pink and blue or coral and cream. The roofs are weathered brown tiles. Often ferns and grass have made a toehold in the tiles. Sometimes a bower of blossoms add a splash of colour to the roofs. In the gardens, people are hoeing, milking cows, debarking logs. One woman, with two large flat market baskets and a baby on her back, flags down our bus and climbs on board.
As we reach the valley bottom, the foliage is more jungle like. Hybiscus and Fuscia are growing wild. A beautiful green vine with small orange blossoms is draped over rock and bushes. Some of the trees are laden with large yellow blooms. As soon as the bus crosses the bridge over the shallow brown river, we start another winding assent. Back and forth we traverse the mountain to gradually make the climb. We can look back way down the valley to see the ribbon of road twisting and turning off into the distance. Looking up at the undulating mountain ridge, there are a patchwork of fields right to the top. Where there are fences, the posts, supporting the barbed wire are rough twisted tree branches. In some places the posts have taken root and are covered in leaves. At one isolated homestead, chickens scuttle about and a woman washes clothes in a bucket and then puts them on the fence to dry. Foot paths with steps dug into the soil and sometimes handrails in the most dangerous areas link the homesteads to their fields or distant neighbours.
The bus alternates between grunting up the grade and then suddenly flying along the more level sections. We pass numerous sparkling white water falls that plunge down the mountain into the rivers.
Occationally, we see the giant cactus that has the enormous tree sized flower stocks. Suddenly I gasp at the sight of an enormous smooth green tree trunk that narrows as it rises and is topped with an explosion of leaves. What ever this tree is called, it is spectacular. Condors soar overhead. The beauty leaves me breathless.
As the bus enters the outshirts of Loja, we see our first billboard. I am personally ashamed that it reads McCains.
Within a block of the bus station, we stop so that peddlers can cruise the bus selling chapa de papas, chocolate, ice cream, water and more of the amazing looking buns that are always disappointingly dry and tasteless. Outside the shop that the bus stops beside, hangs a pig and another lays on a table. Both have heads and legs intact. These carcasses illicit my sympathy. After the peddlers depart, the bus careens up and out of Saraguro. Our bodies vibrate to the ever present blast of South American dance music. We sway and rock while the bus races out of town hugging the winding mountain road. Quickly we are in a green mountain paradise. Large clumps of gigantic elephant grass, pines, eucolyptus, palm and banana are interspersed with fields of corn, spinkled on every mountain surface that can sustain them. Since planting and harvesting are all done by hand, only a verical slopè is too steep.
Occationally, we see horses, pigs, goats or sheep. The greens of fields and forests are broken with yellow/red sand slides or outdrops of ragged gray rock. As we reach the peak, we look down on the billowing cloud top. Above the sky is an intense blue.
At the next valley, we start our winding desent. Midway to the river, we pass a cluster of adobe houses. A few are stuccoed and painted pink and blue or coral and cream. The roofs are weathered brown tiles. Often ferns and grass have made a toehold in the tiles. Sometimes a bower of blossoms add a splash of colour to the roofs. In the gardens, people are hoeing, milking cows, debarking logs. One woman, with two large flat market baskets and a baby on her back, flags down our bus and climbs on board.
As we reach the valley bottom, the foliage is more jungle like. Hybiscus and Fuscia are growing wild. A beautiful green vine with small orange blossoms is draped over rock and bushes. Some of the trees are laden with large yellow blooms. As soon as the bus crosses the bridge over the shallow brown river, we start another winding assent. Back and forth we traverse the mountain to gradually make the climb. We can look back way down the valley to see the ribbon of road twisting and turning off into the distance. Looking up at the undulating mountain ridge, there are a patchwork of fields right to the top. Where there are fences, the posts, supporting the barbed wire are rough twisted tree branches. In some places the posts have taken root and are covered in leaves. At one isolated homestead, chickens scuttle about and a woman washes clothes in a bucket and then puts them on the fence to dry. Foot paths with steps dug into the soil and sometimes handrails in the most dangerous areas link the homesteads to their fields or distant neighbours.
The bus alternates between grunting up the grade and then suddenly flying along the more level sections. We pass numerous sparkling white water falls that plunge down the mountain into the rivers.
Occationally, we see the giant cactus that has the enormous tree sized flower stocks. Suddenly I gasp at the sight of an enormous smooth green tree trunk that narrows as it rises and is topped with an explosion of leaves. What ever this tree is called, it is spectacular. Condors soar overhead. The beauty leaves me breathless.
As the bus enters the outshirts of Loja, we see our first billboard. I am personally ashamed that it reads McCains.
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