My
friends and I had read about and wanted to visit a very small town three hours by bus from Cuenca, in the southern Ecuadorian highlands where the Saraguro live much
as they have since they first came to the area. We had a recommendation for a particular place
to stay. After some emailing in Spanish, the little trip was set, but we weren't
really sure of the where or what.
When
we got out of the bus and into one of the always-waiting taxis, the driver knew
exactly where to take us when we said “Doctor José
Cartuche’s”. We drove about ten minutes back down the road we had come in on
and up a narrow winding road. Out of the cab and standing in front of “Pakari
Tampu” (Dawn Home in Quechua) we wondered “Where are we exactly?”
We ate from their huge garden, had queso
fresco made the same day from the neighbor’s cows, fresh eggs,
newly-baked bread, fresh squeezed juices and at dinner, one of the chickens. As
is usual in Ecuador, breakfast was included with the room. It was $12 a night.
The
hills surrounding Saraguro are lush and verdant. People walk into town - even
little (literally) (very) old ladies.
It struck me that life at Pakari Tampu is the ultimate “farm to table” that has become so trendy in the U.S. This is what people will pay thousands to have at Canyon Ranch. This old way. The traditional way. Chickens in the back yard by necessity. Food grown in a small farm plot authentically organic as it always has been. Healing with what comes out of your garden.
It
also struck me that if capitalism collapsed, these people probably would have
what they need. Dr. Cartuche said that prophesies predict a collapse
and then chaos. I wanna be at his place when it happens.
Catastrophes
aside though, this is not the lifestyle that calls me to return. I have none of
the needed knowledge, skills or aptitude. No, what has stuck with me is what I
had in Cuenca, an old city with a mix of colonial and modern, traditional and
urban, where I lived for two and half weeks. I stayed in the old central city, which
is a UNSESCO World Heritage site.
I
felt at home fairly quickly. I had been to different parts of
Ecuador in 2007, so there was a bit of familiarity. This
was the first time I spent over two weeks in the same place, so it was more
like just living there. I stayed near my friends who were there for several
months and had just the right mix of companionship and independence. I had Spanish
school, which gave me a focus.
I
walked almost everywhere - to school, two
traditional markets, restaurants, the panderia
that made corn flour cookies in a 400 year old horno oven, shops of all sorts,
along the river linear park, to concerts in cathedrals, museums, and pre-Incan
ruins. Even to the bus station a bit out of the central city. Took a cab back though.
Cabs everywhere and about $2.
Life
takes on a different rhythm when living like this. The to-do list is so much
more pleasurable. Half a day in school, afternoons to explore, evenings for
local events or more wandering, weekends for exploring rural towns. Life is
easy and simple. No vehicle to take care of and park, no driving in traffic.
The amount of stuff to deal with is contained. Just a limited amount of
clothing worn over and over. The apartment I rented for half the time had all
the basics. The posada I stayed in the first week had everything I needed considering
someone made me breakfast every morning as part of the $16. per night tab. My
concept of “expensive” really changed. When I could get a almuerzo de dia
(fixed lunch of the day) for $3, including a homemade soup, a main dish of say
rice and a piece of broiled chicken, a glass of fresh squeezed juice and a
small postre or piece of fruit, spending over $5 on a meal seemed an
extravagance.
As I got on the plane for my return flight, I didn't want or need
to come home. With no job there was nothing to force
me home or to grab me once I got here.
So, I had a hard time re-grounding once I got back. The usual return-from-a-trip existential ennui set in, but this
time it had a deeper grip. For
weeks I felt like an expat in my own country.
I was in that nether land, that place in-between places – not quite able to let
go of the experience of being elsewhere. I was loath to get in my
vehicle and out into traffic or force myself into the
bustle of a grocery store. And communicating with my friends who were still
there probably didn't help – it kept me emotionally connected there. I felt a longing, day-dreaming about
whether and how to return for a longer time or where to go next.
Eventually
my feet hit the ground and I started to reconnect - with friends, with
bill-paying - going here and there. Now I’m present
again in my life here and the experience of living and being
in Ecuador is part of me.
While I don’t fantasize about moving there (I am pretty used to the ease of my American life and I know that places can start to show their rough edges after a while) there are still many places in Ecuador that I want to experience. And the idea of spending a length of time back in Cuenca has an appeal. Now that I’m not working, that is starting to feel possible. I’m not sure how, but I’m opening up those possibilities, reinventing what my life is and where it is. These are the real “parts unknown”. And I’m drawing the map myself.