Living in the Clouds, Quilotoa, Ecuador

7 January

We left Quito today to head south to the city of Latacunga. The bus ride was all that I remembered – barreling down the Pan-American “highway” swerving potholes, animals, other cars and buses and the occasional small child. Quito seemed never-ending as we drove out of it. People and trash everywhere – the leftovers of too much human presence and too little urban infrastructure to deal with the overflow. An indigenous family loaded a whole bed frame onto the top of the bus and then got off with us at Latacunga. The sweet smile of the wife coaxed out by a “Hola, como esta?” from me. I realize now she probably speaks Quechua first and then Spanish.

I finally regain a sense of direction outside the city. Now that I know which way is south I can picture myself in the world. We walked through the market today. Surrounded by fruits and vegetables, bread and cheese, all stacked and ready to be eaten. We bought vegetables, bread and aji and ate the first of many vegetable sandwiches – a staple food during our travels. We are staying at the Residencial Santiago in a nice 3^rd floor room with a view to the west and to the tops of roofs all over the city (3 dollars per night). Tomorrow we go to Zumbahua and a hike into the mountains.

I feel so at peace.

8 January

To the First Moment Alone

early morning
no distractions
rolling metal on metal of opening storefronts
just south of the equator
the cathedral that once dominated this town
of latacunga
sitting silent and dark
closed and proud
bright crystal blue in the sky
7:30 a.m.
everything so vivid
people honkingyellingmoving
standingsitting
action everywhere

a man sweeping the parque vicente leon with a palm branch
a small boy wants to shine my shoes
a man sitting across from me just watching as I am
a woman walking quickly on stiletto heels
2 very small boys cross the street holding hands
a couple indigena touching fingers, sitting very close

9 January

We are high in the mountains at the crater lake of Quilotoa after a three hour bus trip from Latacunga with our new German friends, 2 sisters named Uzla and Doerte. They are a geologist who wants to be a film producer and a pharmacist respectively. We are staying with Manuel and his family in a “typical Quechua house”. Manuel’s oldest son Javier recruited us straight off the bus with promises of a typical Quechua house, meals included, guided hikes to the mountains, etc. The bus had stopped at a large colorful archway over a dusty road that led to a rather unassuming gathering of about 10 buildings, which is the town of Quilotoa. Javier and several others representing other hostals in the town were waiting patiently at the colorful archway for our bus – the only one to pass that day – to unload its daily ration of tourists (there were 6 of us that day) and the few locals who had come from Latacunga and points between.

They are a beautiful family – Manuel, his shy wife and their 6 children, of whom Javier is the oldest at 13 – all of them rosy-cheeked and brown. The house is made of cinder blocks with a wood frame roof covered in grass thatch. Reed mattresses are our beds below the sleeping bags we brought with us. A chimenea where we can build a fire at night provides warmth and a gathering place for the four of us. They installed the light bulb in the bathroom last night when we arrived after a cold bumpy ride that took us up and up and up.

The bus went through some canyon country and high paramo landscape(1). There are many small thatched shelters squatting on the landscape like old women. We passed through a parade that blocked the roads for a short time with music and tons of people colorfully dressed, playing eclectic big brass band type music as they spilled over the mountainside in a river of color and sound. I have no idea what they were celebrating on this cloudy day high in these mountains.

1) paramo is a high grassland landscape where little grows but grass, cactus and stunted flowers. Some people believe these areas used to be heavily forested and are only grassland because of human use. This seems a plausible theory since these mountains have been inhabited for over 10,000 years and have been densely populated for much of that time. Also plausible because federally protected areas surrounded by paramo are covered in beautiful ancient quinoal forests. The paramo is one of my favorite landscapes. It’s misty, cold and magical.

The whole Manuel family sleeps and lives out of a room that is one quarter the size of the building they have built for tourists like us. The Hostal Chocita as it is called, is the newest addition to this town of Quilotoa which is becoming more and more popular as a tourist destination and which seems to consist of 4 hostals, 6 homes and one school. I, feeling an attachment to the thatch roof (after having spent the past year building one), had to work really hard to convince the German sisters to stay there. It was definitely more rustic than any of the other accomodations.

Yesterday afternoon the four of us walked halfway into the crater with it’s highly alkaline bright blue-green lake. The lake fills the bottom of the crater, whose sides sweep upward steeply to form a giant, narrow bowl. The Hostal Chocita and the whole town of Quilotoa sit on the rim of this bowl. The ancient volcano is silent now, the wild, dramatic sweep and curve of this basin the only testament to its more active history. The lake sits silent and deathly still, detached from the rest of the world. There are no streams flowing in or out of this body of water. Its root is deep in the mountain. They say that there are creatures swimming in the depths that are so strange as to be unbelievable. But when you see the unnaturally blue/green cloudy color of the water and its solitary stillness, you can easily believe that anything is possible.

That night, Manuel’s wife made a simple and delicious hot dinner of soup (served separately) and rice, french fries, a fried egg and a salad all served in the same bowl. I am again enchanted with these mountains and the people who navigate them. I find myself the translator here. It’s nice, forcing me to remember these words, language of my heart.

We are now resting during our afternoon hike at a cumbia (or peak) watching clouds roll in from the coast. If it weren’t so cloudy, Manuel says we could see the Pacific coast from here. We are far into the western cordillera. He took us to a cueva de los inca or an Incan cave stuck into the side of a hill. The Inca are constantly in my mind. In the presence of this landscape I find myself thinking that it is no wonder they thought of themselves as chosen – from the Sun.

Descanso

the clouds brush our faces
we see many things
sun beating close
lungs pulsing overtime
the flute leads us on
like Pan
to the source
el ombligo del mundo
up and down
across these mountains
following Manuel
our angel in rubber boots

Manuel tells us we have climbed to 5000 meters above sea level today. I find this difficult to believe despite my exhaustion. Regardless. We walked for 6 hours with some breaks for the gringos adjusting to the altitude, while Manuel played his flute to accompany our footsteps and heavy breath. At the end I was feeling very sick. Maybe dehydrated. Maybe just tired to the core. My muscles seem fine. It is my lungs and back that are difficult.

Jacob is a horse. He keeps going and going like he runs on batteries. It’s amazing. Yesterday he left the sisters and I to walk all the way to the bottom of the deep crater where the lake is and today he pushes hard almost effortlessly. The 2 German girls seem as exhausted as me and I wonder to my dismay if it is a gender thing.

Later, sitting by the hot, smoky fire in the town of Quilotoa, Ecuador, in the Hostal Chocita. It is freezing outside, cold, windy and damp. I realize this is what it feels like to live in the clouds.