Lessons in Suffering

Its hard to say what draws more grief, more sympathy for the suffering of man: expressionist painter Oswaldo Guayasamin dedicated his life to depicting -through his art- the pain that people endure in times of war, genocide, and catastrophe. This past Saturday evening, under a steady chilled rain, Ecuador fell to Venezuela in the first of the qualifying matches for the 2010 World Cup. The comparison of course is ludicrous, but I didn´t see any grown men on their knees, in tears, at the Guayasamin museum.

The past week has been busy, but my time in and around Ecuador´s capital has been stretched longer than originally expected. I feel as if I´ve been here a month. This week´s field trips included a visit to the botanical gardens in a central park, teeming with orchids, and an uphill excursion to the Guayasamin museum "La Capilla del Hombre" (The cathedral of man- a conceptual featuring some of his most famous paintings).

Thursday was a day of rest in preparation for the long weekend. I took in a great view of Old Town and the surrounding Andes from the Panecillo (little bread), a small loaf of land on top of which stands a magnificent statue of La Virgen (Jesus´mom). And the next day, on a hillside of old town directly across from the the southern Panecillo, I climbed the rickety planks and metal ladders to the top of a Gothic cathedral, which lonely planet refers to as the most dangerous view of the city. A bit over-exaggerated, but an interesting view none-the-less. Respectively, since it was 4pm, the sights from the stone-carved, clover-shaped window in the clock tower were little more than dark clouds and hazy hill tops. On more than half of the days since my arrival, the day begins with a crisp sunshine that burns through low lying clouds. At about media dia (some point after noon), massive down-comforter clouds of gray and black move over the metropolis and begin to relieve themselves for the remainder of the day. Thankfully, being so close to the equator, it remains just warm enough not to cause a depression similar to that of April slush in Boston.

Aside from the sorrow, seeing a soccer match in South America was exciting enough win or lose. As a friend huddled with me under layers of ponchos and 2 dollar umbrellas, she mentioned, this is everything to some of these people. I could see what she meant when instead of umbrellas, one entire section of the stadium used a massive national flag for cover, an attempt to bolster the sopping spirits of the fans.

Speaking of sports, I´m beginning to miss a bit of the USA and in my haphazard attempt to keep in touch I found out the Sox game will more than likely be televised at a local bar- I´ll try to be

there. Hopefully I won´t have to watch any of the expatriate fans crying.