Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Mendoza, Argentina: Initial Impressions


- The Andes are breathtaking, and waking up to them outside one’s bedroom window each day is quite the blessing

- We REALLY take for granted the ability to tune out of a conversation or lecture in our native language and still be aware of what’s going on

- The Asado, the pride and joy of the Argentines, might just be the death of me this year

- If so, Dulce de Leche (read: heaven incarnate) will certainly be my savior

- U.S. cities don’t know what they’re missing without a Mercado Central, or Central Market, where you can find almost anything you’re looking for, from spices and nuts to produce, meat, and cheese super fresh and super cheap

- Classroom etiquette and standards of respect for the professor are startlingly different here, though I’ve stopped cringing every time someone answers a cell phone in class since the day the professor interrupted himself to answer his own

- Climbers in the U.S. (especially those of you lucky enough to climb at UNC) are spoiled by their access to excellent indoor climbing; Argentine climbers are spoiled by their access to spectacular outdoor climbing

- Argentine boliches, or dance clubs, don’t exactly cultivate graceful, coordinated or aesthetically pleasing dancing (the first time I went to one and started “dancing” to the music, I quickly earned the nickname gallina, or chicken), though they do a great job of promoting joyful, creative, and unabashed … movement?

- Argentines don’t sleep—or not much, at least—and they still function normally, day after day

- They’re not so much for standing in line and waiting your turn here, which make sense, since the folks who do so (namely, me) don’t get helped.

- Turns out stop signs and traffic lights are not actually indispensable components of a functional road system

- Living in one of the world’s best grape and olive producing regions is very nice indeed

- It’s going to be difficult to leave a place that has panaderías, verdulerías, and heladerías (bakeries, veggie stands, and ice creameries) on every corner

- It really is socially acceptable to drink mate anytime, anywhere, from the middle of class to while hanging off the side of a mountain… which is good, since, as it turns out, mate really is addicting

- Overwhelmingly, Argentines are kind, welcoming, generous, vivacious people, and this is going to be a good year :)

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Vilcabamba

The town Vilcabamba is home to the oldest people in the world; people reach old age and just keep on living, routinely toping 100. After visiting, I understand why. This valley in the southern Ecuadorean Andes, also called “The Valley of Longevity,” is perhaps the most relaxing place I’ve ever been. Rather than try (and certainly fail) at conveying to you the absolute beauty and tranquility of this place, I’ll leave it to photos to try and do it justice (these fall short, too, by the way):

Beyond the breathtaking scenery, my favorite part of Vilcabamba had little (or perhaps everything) to do with Vilcabamba itself. Our final evening there we were invited by a fellow traveler, a woman we’d met less than 24hrs before, to partake in an profound personal journey she’d just decided to undertake: shaving off all of her long, beautiful blond hair, and in-so-doing removing the constraints (or safeguards?) of traditional beauty and learning what their existence, or a lack thereof, really means in our society. She’d been toying with the idea for a while, apparently, but never taken the plunge. However, something about Vilcabamba, or, more likely, about the unique community she’d found in just a couple of days there signaled to her that it was time. So, with the support of 10 or so of us (relative stranger) women (and, it’s worth adding, to the dismay of a few male onlookers), she took this liberating step, grinning uncontrollably the entire time. She was grinning and laughing the entire evening afterward, actually.

Participating in this ceremony—snipping a few of her locks as the scissors were passed around and watching her physical transformation—left me wondering if I’d ever be self-confident and/or brave enough to take such a step, whether I could ever intentionally place myself at odds with female ideal of beauty and learn what its presence (or absence) really means for societal access and success. Today I know I’m not... down the road? Not sure. What about the rest of you?

In addition to making me think about my acquiescence to oppressive societal norms, this experience also sums up nicely an unexpected and quite pleasantly surprising aspect of this adventure: the myriad meaningful connections made and fulfilling interactions had along the way. If you’d asked me before this trip, I’d probably have answered skeptically about the likelihood of having substantive exchanges in a couple of hours spent with complete strangers. I probably would have cited the incredible places and extraordinary sights as the main reasons for traveling.

At the end of this trip, however, when I recall favorite parts, they’re not memories of an interesting building or a beautiful mountain, but rather the time spent with people, both Shepard and the numerous fascinating strangers I met along the way. I’m realizing that, as in most areas of my life, for me the raison d’voyage (can I say that?) is, after all, about people and the things they, even in a few hours or days, share with me and teach me. And that even if I never see or communicate with many of them again, the value of having shared the kinds of experiences one has when traveling with them is a perfectly worthwhile and satisfying end in itself. And what a pleasant realization that is!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Cuenca

Cuenca is Ecuador’s 3rd largest city but feels significantly smaller than numbers 1 & 2, Guayaquil and Quito. Like many of the old cities I’ve visited in Latin America, Cuenca’s center has maintained a colonial air, which is to say that the buildings and city planning imposed when the Spanish “founded” the city in the mid-16th century still define the downtown area. Cuenca was settled long before the Spanish arrived, of course, by an advanced indigenous population called the Cañari and then briefly by the Incas. This combination of impressive colonial architecture and indigenous ruins earns Cuenca status as a UNESCO World Heritage Trust site and made for an impressive visit.

If your goal is to appreciate these wonders and the other little delights Cuenca has to offer (which ours was), it’s best to simply walk around the city center for a few days (which we did).

A few highlights:

Possibly the best flower market I’ve ever been to. Though small, the square that is home to the magnificent market is bursting at the seams with activity—the chaotic chorus of conversations between flower buyers and sellers, the explosion of a rainbow that includes every shade of every color imaginable, the unique and powerful perfume created by the competing flower varieties—and all but overwhelmed my senses.

An awesome ethnographic museum situated next to some of the Incan ruins of the city. The 2nd floor of this museum, packed full of visual and audio artifacts, celebrates the impressively diverse array people that call this small country home, from the ever-diminishing indigenous populations of the eastern Amazon region to the Afro-Ecuadorians that make up the northern coast.

The tiny studio of an excellent Cuencan painter, which we popped into just to take a peek and ended up getting a quite thorough tour of (including descriptions of virtually all the paintings). We weren’t in the market for art of this kind (namely, expensive), which we would have told our loquacious guide at the beginning had we been able to get a word in, but it was a pleasure to spend a half hour admiring these beautiful works and hearing the stories behind them, nonetheless.

The Rio Tomebamba, a gently-rushing, boulder-strewn river that flows through Cuenca, whose grassy, tree-lined banks offered us an excellent spot for a picnic lunch and siesta.

Another impression, of a rather different nature, that I'm left with after 2 weeks in Ecuador:

Though Ecuador is quite obviously a developing country and impoverished on the whole, I’ve been struck everywhere we’ve gone by the lack of the kind of significant wealth gap that characterizes many of the other developing countries I’ve visited, especially those in Latin America. Though people certainly live in what we’d consider low-income conditions, on the whole it seems that the vast majority of people live there together. We never saw the kinds of breathtaking disparities you’ll encounter in place like Santiago or Buenos Aires, with elegant gated communities situated just a few kilometers (or in some cases even closer) from villas miserias, or slums, whether within cities or between the cities and the rural areas.

In reality we saw very little of the country; a trip south from Quito to Vilcabamba through places like Quilotoa and Baños means traveling pretty much directly along traditionally tourist-beaten path. Additionally, any thoughts about going in search of great poverty in the cities were trumped by both transportation limitations and safety concerns. Thus, I come to this conclusion about a minimal wealth disparity (at least by Latin American standards) quite hesitantly, both because I’ve done no actual research on its validity and because I recognize that our mode of experiencing Ecuador—as tourists passing quickly through a narrow swath of the country—greatly limited what we saw.

However, it’s an impression I’m left with nonetheless, and one I would really like to have addressed by those of you who know more about Ecuador than I do. More than a few of you have lived here or at least studied the region, so whether it’s to challenge, correct, corroborate, or simply comment, please send your thoughts on this issue my way.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Baños


The town of Baños, our next stop our trek south along the Ecuadorian Andes, is most famous for its natural hot baths and its ample outlets for outdoor adventuring. It is also a gateway into the Ecuadorian jungle, so many folks pass through on their way to a rougher outdoor experience. Though Shepard and I passed on the jungle visit this time around, we did do some adventuring of our own while in Baños.

We spent one day “canyoning,” or waterfall rappelling, which, despite the gimmicky nature inherent to a guided outdoor activity in a tourist town, was quite fun. The day was warm and sunny, so the cold mountain water rushing over us felt great, and our spectacular surroundings—lush forestry and beautiful mountains—made the experience all the more refreshing.

We also spent a day biking between Baños and neighboring Puyo. In addition to a good workout, biking along the winding mountain road was a great way to take in the impressive landscape of mountains, canyons and waterfalls at a leisurely pace.

Besides these activities and a good deal more hiking, we took a few days to just hang in the quaint downtown area, enjoying everything from the interesting (if understated) architecture and beautiful folkloric music performances to ridiculously yummy local food and an awesome (affordable!) massage.

More than anything, we simply relaxed in Baños. Our hostel, Casa Verde, run by two Australians with the help (or disruption, rather), of their toddler son, may or may not have been my favorite part of the town… A bit outside the busy downtown area, Casa Verde is situated upon the rushing Rio Pastaza and its large, open rooms with ample windows afford great views of the river and surrounding mountains. A huge vegetable garden outside provided fresh fruit and veggies to accompany the homemade bread and granola of our breakfast each morning, and a clean, well-stocked kitchen offered us the quite welcomed opportunity to indulge in another traveling sacrifice, cooking! In fact, we were so relaxed, well-rested (and well-fed) at Casa Verde that we ended up staying two days longer than we’d originally planned to soak it all up.

After a few weeks of continual travel—trying to know new towns and cities each day and changing hostels every night or two—our slightly extended stay in Baños was a welcome respite. It also afforded us the chance to get to know the town a bit and even to make a few friends among the locals, things which, unfortunately, are often compromised in our form of travel.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Quilotoa Loop

From Quito we traveled south to the Quilatoa loop, a 200km loop through the central mountainous region that includes a number of tiny Andean towns and the magnificent Laguna Quilotoa. This ancient volcanic crater filled in with sparkling emerald water is a must-see when passing through Ecuador, though fortunately it’s a bit of a trip to get there (it sits at almost 13k ft!), which keeps the masses of tourists away. Actually, with the relative dearth of people around and the mist that rolls in each afternoon, Quilotoa manages maintains a rather mystical, untouched air.

Many travelers do the entire loop, hiking from village to village each day. Due to our limited time, however, (and to our mammoth packs) we opted to travel straight to one village about half-way around the loop, Chugchilán, and spend a few days on day hikes out from there.

One day we spent hours hiking uphill (or upmountain, rather) to a Quesería, or cheese factory and co-op, we’d heard a lot about in the town and from other travelers. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the 1.5 room building, 2-person staff we found when we finally arrived. We were not disappointed, however, as the people were kind and thorough on the 3-minute tour and the cheese probably the freshest I’ve ever tasted.

Another morning we caught a ride up to the Laguna Quilotoa and spent the day hiking back. After some time simply taking in the magnificence that is the Laguna, we began our hike around the rim and our eventual descent back to Chugchilán. The “directions” we’d been related tried desperately to be specific, though that turns out to be a difficult task when there is little actual path, zero trail markers, and few landmarks along the way. It’s not surprising, then, that we managed to take a few detours from the correct path, the consequences of which in one case meant hiking straight up what I’m convinced was a 120degree (at least) a produce field in the hail. In the end, however, some combination of our intuition and the encouragement of the small handful of people we met along the way got us back to our village safe and mostly sound, and the nasty cold I carried as a trophy the next several days was entirely worth it.

These days comprised some of my favorite in Ecuador for their simplicity: breathing fresh mountain air as I worked hard physically all day to the spectacular backdrop of the Andes, later sharing a warm meal with a new group of interesting adventurers each evening, and perhaps some cards or reading before falling into bed exhausted and fulfilled.