El Paraiso part 1

Before I start forgetting too much and getting too busy with school, I figured I should jot down my memories of my three weeks in El Paraiso. Why did I wait this long? I knew that it was one of those things that is going to take a long time to retell. There are so many things I could expound on that I could write nearly endlessly on my three weeks there. Where do I even start? That was the question I was trying to figure out when I got back. I think this is one of those stories that will take time to tell, and it will just have to be recounted as things come back to me. So here is part one of that story....

After typing that entry in Otavalo over a month ago - wow, I don't even know if that feels distant or remote... maybe a little of both - I hopped on a bus with my community contact, Gustavo. I had taken some Dramamine on the way to Otavalo because the bus was hitting some bumps, and I can get motion sickness rather easily. Fortunately, that's my only weakness, other than girls, food, procrastinating, my drug habit, and I guess the list goes on....anyways, dramamine has the side effect of making one rather drowsy (although I was supposedly taking the non-drowsy formula), so I slept most of the way to El Paraiso, which is a good thing considering it's a 3 hour bus ride. When I woke up, the scenery had changed completely. I had come from the highlands, where its mainly grassy and the views consist of an amazing backdrop of mountains. Now, I was in a lush semi-tropical area, and it happened to be sprinkling a little rain. The road was completely gravel and dirt, so I worried about my travel health insurance policy. I knew it covered expatriation of my remains, but would they actually go through the trouble of retrieving my body if my body was trapped inside a bus under a mudslide at the bottom of a valley? I doubted it. One of the most amazing things I saw on that ride was a waterfall that had been created by the rainfall. It was only 2 or 3 feet from the side of the bus, and the water ran right across the road after it fell. I wanted to take a picture, but I did not want to attract too much attention so I did not.

Aside: This was kind of a recurrent theme on my trip. I did not take as many pictures as I would've liked, and I did not get as many good shots because if I brought out my camera, it would attract SO much attention. I might as well have worn a sign that said "Please rob me" or "I'm a rich tourist" So I missed out on many good shots, but they'll stay with me in memory, at least until my brain rots.

Plus, these kids that were sitting behind me were laughing at me about how I was sleeping with my eyes open - oh yeah, another one of my eccentricities. Little did they know that I semi-understood Spanish. Haha, who's laughing now?

We made it to the town of Penaharrera (ahhh, it's kind of annoying not being able to type certain characters) where we hopped off. Gustavo had told me that El Paraiso had only 20 families living there, so I looked around thinking we were at El Paraiso and said "Hey, it looks like a pretty big town here. Bigger than I expected." Oh how foolish I was. Gustavo had me wait at a store while he went off somewhere, and a kid at the store asks me a question. I have NO idea what he said. Uh oh, this might be a bad sign.... and it was. Gustavo returns with the news. He had been arranging for us to ride up in the back of this pick-up. It was full before we got on, and we just made it even fuller. I'd say there were at least 20 people on the back of this pick up, and they were all giving me rather curious looks, whether because I was so tall, so Japanese, so ugly, I didn't know.

Riding on the back of a pick-up is one of the simple pleasures I will miss. I loved it from the first moment I got on. Their pick-ups have railings on the sides, so you can stand up in them and enjoy the view, the fresh wind blowing in your face, the bugs flying into your mouth. Unfortunately, this was a pleasure I only got to experience for a short while because we came upon a hill, and there were too many people on the truck, so it could not make it up the hill. In one of the few instances of chivalry or gentlemanly conduct I saw in Ecuador, a few of the men and boys (including me) got off, so that the truck could keep on. The truck went off, and apparently, we were going to run after it in the hopes that we could catch up to it. The truck went probably about a half mile uphill to a flatter area, and we hustled. My cross country legs were pumping, keeping that steady rhythm, and soon, I was at the front of the pack. Uphill, short strides, fast pace. Some of the guys were falling back, out of breath. I was getting a little light-headed, but no, I could keep going. Yeah, I got it.... yep, I'm still ok.... ok...... ok, I think I should stop, my lungs are burning. I don't think I had ever experienced that burning lung sensation swimmers talk about, but I think I did then. We started walking, and the truck is idling up at the top of the hill. I figured he'd wait until we all got up there. Nope, as we were about a quarter mile away, the truck goes off even farther, and we start running after it again. This repeated itself again until we had all given up hope of even catching the truck. I couldn't tell if the driver was playing a cruel joke or being practical, but no one else seemed to find any humor in the situation, so I guess that's how things are done there.

We stroll into town a few minutes later, and it's tiny. I shouldn't even call it a town - it's probably not even a village. Maybe a "gathering" would be a better term. There is a single road that runs along the ridge of a hill, and the gathering is situated on that ridge. While there are 20 families that are a part of that community, only about half of these live near the central area. Others live farther down the street, uphill, downhill, etc.

I'm introduced to Willo, who will be my host father. He seems to be a nice guy, kind of guy that everyone loves. However, I cannot understand a single word he says. Imagine studying the Queen's English, and then, going to rural Georgia to live with a family. I think that's the sort of deal I had. I had learned pretty proper Spanish (although I guess that varies where you are), and these people were speaking in their rural slang-riddled tongue. Not until my second day there did I realize that they pronounce all of their "ll" like an English "j", and they even pronounce "rr" and "r" at the end of words like that. And as luck would have it, it seemed that my family in particular spoke with a stronger accent than any other family I encountered there.

I had arrived just in time for a "mista." I take my dictionary out of my pocket to look it up. No "mista" to be found. He points in the direction of a gathering of many people by the building, and then starts talking about how someone had died. Ohhh, a mass.... or "misa." See what I'm saying about their pronunciation? We head over, and since the small building is packed, we stand outside, and I can catch fragments of sentences.... Dios.... padre.... santo..... Cristo..... Yoski. Yeah, weird, huh? Afterwards, we head across the street to somebody's yard where their serving food. Chicken, potatoes, lettuce. Pretty typical Ecuadorian meal. I worried about the lettuce. Is this the meal that's going to make me sick? I had yet to get sick, but I was worried that the next meal would be the one to do it. Oh well, only one way to find out. Someone was walking around serving some nice chicha to wash it all down. I had never had it, but they explained to me that it is a drink made using panela, their unprocessed cane sugar. Basically, you mix some water with the sugar, throw in some herbs or fruit if you have any, and let it ferment, so theoretically, it's safe to drink since the alcohol kills everything. However, I was confused about the alcohol part. While the drink had a little carbonation, it lacked any identifiable alcohol flavor, and it did not get me anywhere near tipsy (and you know me, it takes very little). I never discovered how this worked, but I don't think I got sick from it, so it worked somehow. Willo introduced me to his brother Pedro, who offered me some aguadiente. This also is made from panela (it's one of the main things they make here), but it's distilled, so it's basically like a rum. Lonely Planet claims that it's not so great, but whatever I had wasn't too bad at all. Funny thing is, they drink any sort of alcohol from the smallest cups. Beer they drink out of those cups you get at the dentist's office for rinsing your mouth out. Hard liquor? One of those cups you use to drink syrupy medicine out of. While their containers are small, and they seem to have little tolerance, their stamina is pretty incredible. I went to bed that night, but many people stayed up, drinking through the night, and still drinking even when I was going around the next morning around 10. But that's another story, and another entry since this one is getting long enough. More to come soon.