One evening as we wander the town for food and supplies, we see a poster at a cultural center for something related to Pachamama - Quetchua for Mother Earth. It appears to be free and as we watch the setup begin, decide we will come back and check it out for a bit. We stoll into some dancers performing and three hours later we sneak out nearing the end of it all after witnessing and participating in a very thorough event. It was a sacrificial ceremony for Pachamama performed on large circles of rose petals and fruits and more food and alcohol in the massive rose covered center. The ceremony participants all wore white and were staged at different points of the circles. With the combination of my poor Spanish, scratchy microphone and a muffled voice, we didnt stand a chance to understand what was going on. A local pan flute player next to us helped translate, in Spanish of course, so I was able to grasp being silent, breathing in deeply and feeling and listening to it in your heart. Then the arm raising, hand holding and hugging slowly proceed followed by sharing of cheecha (a fermented maize drink) and grasping a handful of saw dust as clouds of Paulo Santo (a type of wood burned like incence) filled the air. When it came time for everyone to line up and take their turn at the altar, a bit of panic set in. At this point, all but the few gringos in white who were actively in the ceremony had left. Everyone seemed to know what was going on except us. We knelt down on the inner circle of petals and threw our sawdust in a smoldering fire, grabbed a grape and ate it, and then were told we had to sacrifice one as well. We get up to leave and are unaware that we need to exit by circling around the altar and cluelessly stare as they attempt to direct us. Whew, made it out of the circle but it didnt go so smoothly. Oh gringos. Good thing we stuck around for dancing, kind of like the train followed by men drinking and spitting unknown liquids in our faces. We had some good laughs after we snuck out nearing midnight. I still have very little knowledge of what happened and why but overall a wonderful cultural experience that Im glad I was a part of. Love you Pachamama!!
We roll into Quito in the afternoon and settle into his place, which happens to have an amazing view of some of the city and a volcano. I have enrolled in Spanish school and will be attending it all week. I'm not used to early mornings at all anymore and 6am comes way too soon...every day. I take a local bus to Old Town where the school is located but not before climbing an steep hill and staircase of 253 steps, not that anyone is counting. By day five, the pain of it eases but never really goes away. School is in a historic part of the city and I enjoy wandering around before and after class. I see protests (let me specify peaceful to the worriers) and parades, churches and big city squares.The market is usually the highlight of my day. The closest one is the Mercado Central in a big warehouse building two stories tall. They have everything you can imagine including lots of meat even cow legs with hooves attached (aka vegetarian's nightmare), herbs, flowers, fresh juices, hot meals for cheap and of course lots of fruits and veggies. I am in heaven with plenty of cheap produce and a kitchen to cook in every night. I miss having a refrigerator and being able to create my own healthier meals instead of just eating whatever can be found cheap and meat free around random towns.
I meet some of his friends throughout the week and one offers to host a going away party. Im not sure that five days somewhere constitutes a fiesta with people I just met, but who am I to argue? It is a good reason to drink, cook and hang out with some great people in Quito. A wonderful night is preceeded by a viscious hangover and good-bye to my latest "home."
Onto Otavalo and inching closer to the Colombian border. A cute little town known for its massive market. I wander aimlessly through almost every street and find the produce market again, but this time I'm lacking a kitchen and sadly leave with a little bit of fruit as little red tomatoes, ripe avocados and all their veggie friends plead for me to take them. Poor little guys.
Tomorrow I will stop in a couple small towns nearby, retrieve my bags from Otavalo and try to get across the border. I am clueless as to how this goes or where I will end up but Im just going as far as I can. Two quick weeks in Colombia and hopefully onto Argentina. My days of lazy travel are limited and will be scarce. Here I go...
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