Ok Andrew, it's 430, and you're in Centro de Quito (Old Town) getting ready to leave for the other side of the city. The trolley is going to be crowded. Be careful, you just met some naive peace-core volunteer who stepped on weeks earlier, with way too much luggage. His backpack was too big, he had too much in his hands, too much on his plate, and someone stole his chicken leg right out from under him. Someone took his wallet. But that's not going to happen. Put your money clip with 10 dollars in your breast pocket. Whats left in you pocket, your knife. Ok, go ahead and try to take that. Hold your messenger bag tight against your chest, with your hand gripping the camera thats inside. Notice everyone, even the old woman. Especially the old women.
This is what I am thinking and I am totally aware of my surroundings. A woman keeps yelling at me that her kids are behind/under me, los ninos, cuidado, los ninos. Yeah lady, where am I suppose to go? We get through a few stops and Ashely finds a seat, I squeeze by someone in a milatary uniform who gives me a military face. But now I have room, I'm standing on a platform where the seats are, standing above ashley. Sixty seconds later she notices slash marks on the side of her soft-fabric tote bag. 'O god, look at this andrew, look at these slash marks.' 'Jesus, when did that happen' (I think we kept calling out the Lord's name because we just left Iglesia de la Compania de Jesus, a magnificent church whose insides are literally plated in Gold. Apparently the best way to pay homage to am man who lived a life of poverty is to plate his house with 14 karat.) 'I don't know Andrew, I was holding it close the whole time, what about yours.'
I look at my bag, 'Hijos de PUTAS, (profanities in spanish) you gotta be kidding me' There's a perfectly-straight razor blade-slash along the left side of my bag.' I assess the situation. Everything's still there. I was holding my bag too tight. I knew the scam, it goes like this. Simply, everyone is packed so tightly that someone deftly slashes your bag in hopes things will fall out. Nothing fell out, and aside from a hole in my new scarf everything was a-ok. I think it must have been a kid, someone short, someone I couldn't see. So it wasn't really too dangerous, but a shock nonetheless.
After enough of the pollution and child thieves, I decided it was a perfect weekend for a retreat to nature, so Ashley and I got on a bus and took a 2.5 hour ride to the cloud forests of Mindo. The scene was beautiful. We spent Friday afternoon at a mariposarium (a butterfly garden) and checked out some local flora. The garden was beside a small pond and on the deck above, hummingbirds come within a few feet to feed from dangling feeders. A main draw to the netted garden is a species of butterfly known as the Owl's Eyes. One each of its light, earth-brown wings in a black spot circled by a white ring, a shape that looks startlingly like an Owl's eye, and when both wings are spread-a perfect pair.
On Saturday we took the advice of our hostel owner - a middle aged woman who just returned from a three day trip digging up indigenous graves in hope of finding gold- and went on a hike through the forests to some waterfalls. After taking a wire supported cart, a couple hundred feet in the air, from an elevated road from one mountain side to another; we hiked through dense cloud forest for 45 minutes to a flowing wall of fresh water. At this elevation, on most days clouds literally cover the upper half of the forests, so even on a clear day the trees, the ferns, the palms and the mucky ground remain damp. It was especially surreal because we took the road less trodden, not a single person had gone down the path that morning. We knew it, for we constantly stepped into spider webs and loose branches. The reward was a freezing cold shower under a 70 foot (or so) waterfall. Invigorating.
On the way back we stopped at a coffee plantation and an old man who spoke Spanish with a french accent explained the process of growing, then selecting, the finest coffee beans. He also squeezed in a few lessons in European history and on a world map, showed us the places where thumb-tacks represented the various cities that the children he had fathered throughout the years were now living. Bad ass.
The weekend was ended with a picturesque horse ride, as we rode past cows grazing on lush green grass and on bridges over the Rio Mindo.
I'm back in Quito, trying to plan a trip into the jungles of the Orient. And once again, its late afternoon and its raining a cold rain. It reminds me of the waterfalls from the days passed. only this time, I can't get naked and jump in like an innocent native boy.
No comments:
Post a Comment