14 January
I am finally and forcefully a part of my dreams. Banos is quiet tonight. Even the dogs seem to have found some peace, except that small one outside our room who is thankfully playing with a piece of plastic – thankfully because last night he cried and whimpered us to sleep in the rain. It’s Monday – the end of Monday in Tungurahua Province, town of Banos, Ecuador to be exact.
On Sunday we got here at 10:30 a.m., dopey, fresh off the bus, we trudged under the weight of too much stuff in the general direction of the hostal recommended by Hanis and Vipka. I trudge and shuffle, thinking of the absurdity of the amount of stuff I have carried with me to this distant continent. And then I smile at the absurdity of getting rid of it after carrying it this far.
Jacob and I had a great day. We hiked up from the valley Banos is nestled in and up and up and up once more. We were accompanied on the first and hardest part of the trip by a young boy with deformed hands, a sweet smile and a dachsund puppy which he clutched to his chest at all times. I helped him for a bit by carrying the puppy while he carried the sack he would fill with potatoes at his grandmother’s house. He says he walks that hill 5 times a week. I know better than to let this shock me.
He turned off and we kept going up, alternately catching the road and footpaths. The paths were deep shaded canyons, cool, moist, tropical, windy, dark and seductive, surrounded by growth on all sides. When we came onto the road we also came into the sun where warmth and brightness awakened senses with light, dry sweetness. We were really hiking very aimlessly.
I was drawn towards the volcano Tungurahua (Devil’s Throat) so we walked in the general direction of the peak. We pushed forward both physically and mentally today (speaking of politics, sex, food, love, alcoholism, etc.) We got to a certain point where the path overgrew and we had no choice but to turn around. After a short search for a new path to the road we returned along the same path.
I thought it might be difficult for me to be on vacation for such a long time, especially with the history of workaholics in my family. Instead, I find it totally invigorating. It’s like an experiment in the other life. I think I can only return to work if it is for the reason of saving money for another trip
Last night I woke up to the whole bed shaking rather intensely. In my waking thoughts, I believe it is related to the volcano, an earthquake, a minor stretch or clearing of the throat. In my sleeping mind, I believe it to be the exuberant dreams of the man I shared the bed with.
We are staying at the Residencial Timara, 3rd floor for $2.50 per night. Jacob and I are sharing a bed here even though every other room in the place is empty. For some reason, it seems to be cheaper if we share a bed (matrimonio) rather than having our own (doble). Our room looks out on beautiful purple and red bougainvillea with a backdrop of the (not so insignificant) mound of earth that is supposed to protect Banos if Tungurahua erupts again – spilling her hot juices all over the land. This little mound of earth would laugh as she was gobbled by hot lava and sigh herself into hibernation as the smoke cleared.
Banos is a strange town, especially after Chugchilan and Quilotoa. There are tourists everywhere. The selling of culture is rampant – both foreign and Ecuadorian culture. The hostal we are in is a nice oasis. We have the whole third floor to ourselves and access to a kitchen. It is a bit of protection from the hordes of gringos with their fanny packs and sandals, their cameras and money, their entitlement.
Thought #1
It’s raining quietly
a dog has been unsettled – barking at its real or imagined invader
somewhere a tv or stereo is turned up way too loud
somewhere a baby cries
(though I can’t hear this)
I find myself alone
on the tiled transition between bathroom floor
and curtainless shower
unable to sleep
despite the exhaustion of the day
several other dogs join in the chorus
of rain and dog and sitting
I am aware of everything
and I know nothing
life is absurd
I can only stay awake
hear the laughter of dogs
and understand the intricacies of absurdity
Thought #2
but not on my skin
my other senses
imagining for my skin
drops of water playing tag
nose smelling
as earth drinks deeply
and plants behave as if drunk
eyes seeing life
through the tears of another
mouth staying shut
(so as to facilitate the rest)
skin is alive with anticipation
that will remain in the imagination
as the skin is also chilled
by this deep Andean night
I’m alive and life is good
15 January
Later – like moths to a flame, ants to a picnic, cows to a salt lick, we are drawn in droves, herds to this America/Europe/could-be-anywhere in the central Ecuadorian Andes. This bright shining spot of western revelry. Our culture is laid out here mockingly. You will buy and we will sell. And sell. And sell. I hate it but I stay. I am locked in, submerged in a broth I thought I’d thrown out with the trash – or at least set aside for future’s hunger. Even the people here have taken on the greedy, unfriendly, capitalist shine. They are numb to foreigners and unyielding.
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