Living Well

I saw a very different side of Quito today. I met with a real estate agent referred to me by Guillermo from Sacha Lodge. I did not set any limits to cost or what I was looking for, except that I wanted to be safe. Paquita told me that she was not sure what she wanted to show me until she spent some time with me, and knowing me would guide her. She proceeded to show me embarrassingly large and luxurious apartments in Gonzales Suarez and Bellavista. I was almost uncomfortable, but at the same time, I wanted desperately to live in these big beautiful open places, so different from what I had seen thus far. The prices were ridiculously high. I wonder if just being a foreigner motivated her to direct me to this sort of existence, or the fact that Guillermo introduced us.

We started big, and wound down to a more affordable and suitable place in Bellavista, still more than I wanted to spend. Later in the day, I went with Erika and another real estate agent, and saw perfectly suitable places for more reasonable rents, but I had been spoiled for the day. I am reminded of the far more modest life that I lead, and part of me wants to live above and beyond, and an equally strident part feels uneasy with such wealth and luxury, especially when there is so much poverty all around.

The views were stunning, I am starting to be accustomed to the beauty of my surroundings when I look up and above. The sights at street level are variable, and walking the streets is rough because of the cars and the exhaust. I have walked through the neighbourhood around Erika's house. Rio Coca and Diez de Agosto and Seis di Diciembre and Avenue di Shyris are becoming more familiar to me. I find the street names interesting and informative. The 10th of August is the day of Independence, the Shyris are a preColumbian tribe from the Quito area, the 6th of December was the day in 1534 when Quito was 'refounded' by the Spaniards after Ruminahui razed to the ground rather than surrendering to the conquerers.

I am still uncertain about walking the streets alone. I wanted to walk in the areas I had visited today but was discouraged by Paquita--I had been walking around JipiJapa daily and she felt that was unwise too; I am starting to think that the place I want to live is the area where I can safely walk every day.

People are friendly on the street, always greeting me with 'Buenas Dias' or 'Buenas Tardes'. When I am introduced to someone, stranger or friend, man or woman, right hands shake and right cheek touches right cheek. I wonder if my simple handshake offends; I am okay with the cheek thing when I know someone, but am slow to kiss with strangers. It is interesting to watch Erika and how friendly she is with people she does not know, telling them more than I would expect from a stranger!

Maya was disappointed to have her last day of summer camp today; I thought it went for another two weeks. She has been communicating well with the children but I am not sure she has been speaking Spanish. She is enjoying her ballet class more and more. Her teacher has asked her to move to pointe shoes, which suggests that she is doing well. She is the youngest in the class by several years, most of the students are young adults, so she is feeling more and more accomplished.

No Movement Yet

It was another glorious sunny day, which turned out to be much hotter than expected, and I appreciate the warmth. The views of mountains all around is not yet ordinary for me. It is spectacular to look out each morning and be surrounded by the Andes, gentle and rolling in some directions, Cotopaxi covered in snow and clouds to the south, Pichincha angular and grey to the east. I pause as I cross the rooftop to go downstairs for breakfast. Maya had another day of camp, where she participated in a soccer game and described feeling the altitude and needing to stop several times to reach her arms up to the sky to get more air.

Eric directed me to the Sacha Lodge office in the area of Quito called 'La Floresta' where I was able to get some cash, not too much, just enough to last me until Eric arrives next week. I met with Guillermo, who runs a jungle resort called Sacha Lodge, and Andres, who takes care of Casa del Suizo, another resort, which I visited when I was here in March. They were sympathetic when I told them my story of being robbed, but not particularly surprised.

I found that I was far more comfortable with this area of La Floresta, although it is much farther from Maya's school than the area around Erika's home, and rents are far more expensive. Perhaps it was attractive because it was such a sunny day and the streets were full of people. There are bars and restaurants and gyms and an independent movie theatre. It feels more cosmopolitan than JipiJapa, but perhaps less Ecuadorian, and more familiar. Living near Erika's would be more of a local experience, perhaps La Floresta would replicate my former life and be less of a foreign environment.

I found my way to the Canadian Embassy, where I talked at length to a young woman who informed me I would have to go online to register my presence in Ecuador, that I ought to get a Canadian passport for Maya, that there was a need for a psychiatrist amongst the expat community and that she was trying to get a group of Canadian women together regularly to talk about their experiences in Ecuador and I was invited to join. She had been living in Quito for a year, and was starting to adjust!

Nightmares

I wonder if the altitude is affecting my sleep. I am having scary dreams, but perhaps that is because just before bed, I heard some bloodcurdling screams, convincing me that someone was being murdered nearby. It turns out that a woman was giving birth in the fertility clinic next door, and that this was quite ordinary. So along with the wind howling and the dogs barking and the woman screeching a few feet from my bed, it is understandable that I am having nightmares and sleeping fitfully. I wake up feeling uncomfortable and uncertain as to whether I have slept at all. And at one point during the night I found both of Maya's feet in my face: she moves around the bed constantly.

Maya was off to camp early and I took the opportunity to take a morning walk in the sunshine. The mountains were clearly visible in every direction and the view was stunning. I was expecting to look for more apartments when I returned to the house, but after a second breakfast, the priority was to find a machete for Vincent, Erika's boyfriend from Montreal, who is traveling home Thursday and cannot leave Ecuador without one.

Time has a curious quality to it here. I find myself waiting and waiting for things to occur; somehow I am not able to make anything happen, and then suddenly I have to rush back to get Maya. It is a new experience to be so powerless. My fear about being robbed makes me hesitant to go out on my own. I cannot lose my other camera, and have too little money to stomach another loss. I find myself getting more and more restless in the house, but anxious about leaving, and I don't want Maya to be wondering where I am if I am late to pick her up.

Maya is quite content to attend her morning camp and her afternoon ballet. I want to explore the town and experience everything. Instead, I am held hostage to my own fears.

It rained in the afternoon when I walked to the ballet school and then further to look at another apartment. The views of the surrounding mountains were wonderful again until I looked down and saw block after block of cinderblock and corrugated metal shelters. These were homes to the poor, but the lady showing us the apartment assured us that they were 'good' poor people, whatever that meant. Did it mean we were safe from crime? I doubt that. Maya pointed out that the poor could not help it, they needed to eat and to live, and that theft was perhaps all they could do to survive. My perception of this place is significantly altered by the robbery, and it is impossible to reflect on the poverty without discomfort and unease.

I will try again tomorrow to take the risk and go downtown to experience what I know this city has to offer.

Police Visit

It is colder than I expected, especially in the early and later part of the day. Maya and I cuddle at night under three blankets, and I need a shower in the morning to warm me up. There was no hot water for a couple days, so I braved a cold shower one day and decided I did not need a daily shower after all. It warms up during the day, and the sun is intense, so that I am reapplying sunscreen on Maya all the time and she is still getting sunburned. We are at a high altitude and at the equator, so we closer to the sun.

Maya started her 'vacation camp' today, so we woke up at 7:30 and had an early breakfast before most of the family was up. Erika and Isabel go to bed late and wake up later, so breakfast is always after 9. Breakfast is a big affair, with fruit, yoghurt, fried bananas, eggs, French toast, omelettes, freshly squeezed juice, and more. Isabel drinks Nescafe, which I have yet to develop a taste for. She makes Ecuadorian coffee for me, which is a slow process of pouring a small amount of hot water through a thick and dense inch or two of ground beans. It appears to take a night to produce a spoonful or two of 'extract' of coffee, which is added to hot water or hot milk. It is not particularly strong when diluted, but is drinkable. I wish I could drink more of it, but one cup is all there is enough for, and it works for me in that I do not get a headache or feel the need for more.

Lunch is the biggest meal of the day and happens late. Isabel spends alot of time in the kitchen preparing, but Maya and I are rarely on schedule for lunch, and we find ourselves eating lunch at dinnertime, when the rest of the family hardly eats at all. We will have to adjust to this schedule for now, but with Maya at camp in the morning and at ballet in the afternoon, we may not be able to synch with the Carrera family.

Maya's camp is around the corner, and there are nine children of varying ages, and I am delighted that she enjoys herself and wants to return tomorrow. I hope she will learn Spanish this way!

It appears that I can make a claim with American Express for my stolen camera, so first of all, I must get a police report. Erika and I take almost an hour to fight the traffic to get to the central police station in the Mariscal, the area of Quito that has all the clubs and bars and restaurants and action in town. I like the feeling and the energy and I wish we could live there, but I am told that it is an unsafe part of town and not good for children. It is also much further from her school. We are directed to the 'nonviolent' crimes office and stand in line for forty minutes or so. Erika asks people ahead of us what is required for the line, and we are told to photocopy my identification and buy a couple sheets of paper because the commissioner does not have enough paper. We commiserate with other victims of crime. I am the only foreigner in the line, so it appears that Ecuadorians are equally likely to be robbed. When we get to the end of the line, I tell my story and it is typed up, we get into another line to get the paper stamped and another line to get it signed and we are done in less than an hour. I wish I could stay in the area and wander, now that I have no camera to rob and little money, but it is time to drive back to pick Maya up.

Maya had less than an hour to relax before we headed for her two hour daily ballet class. It is tough and challenging, and Maya is worried that her teacher is not consistent with what she has learned. The ballet instructor is Cuban and huge, but nimble on her feet, and hard on her students. Maya is the youngest and I am not sure this is quite right for her, but she decides to stick with it for the two and a half weeks she has left. Watching her is inspiring and exhausting. I am amazed at what she can do and her perseverance.

We walk home down Rio Coca and up Isla Seymour to Erika's home, stopping for ice cream (we are just as passionate as the Ecuadorians for our ice cream--Eric introduced me to these Magnum bars. which are yummy!). I am getting to know the neighbourhood, which is too quiet and peaceful for me. After enjoying my time at the police station downtown, I think I want to live in a more active part of town.

The wind is howling while Maya practices her violin this evening. She has auditions with two orchestras in September and is preparing her repertoire. I imagine the mountains funnel the wind through the narrow valley, creating an ominous concert with the dogs of the neighbourhood barking and the sirens wailing. It is cold and dark again and it feels as if we are barricaded safely against the world outside.

Celebration

I had to conquer my fears today. I was shocked yesterday; I thought I had been so careful and was very aware of being a target and was stunned to discover that I had been pickpocketed. I was separated from Maya and Erika, and when I found them I described how I had been handled and avoided being robbed, only to discover that my pocket was empty and that my small camera was gone. Erika reassured me that this happens to everyone and that little can be done to prevent it and that I was lucky not to be assaulted with a knife or threat of bodily damage. I did not feel so lucky. Today, Isabel reiterated that everyone she knows has been a target and one has to expect it and not get too upset.

I wanted to visit the 'centro historico' for the celebration of Independence Day of August 10, 1809. Despite my anxiety, and Maya's preference to stay home and 'chill' (I am sure my concern about our safety is not well hidden), we left the house with a map, $15, no cellphone and no camera. We walked the ten minutes to the bus station and were informed that there were no more buses today because of the independence day celebrations. We found a taxi to drive us the length of the city to the oldest part of Quito, which was a city long before the Inca and then the Spanish came. It is now a UNESCO World Heritage site because it is one of the best preserved colonial cities. The 'centro' was closed to traffic because of the celebration, so we walked to the main Plaza de la Independencia, stopping several times to make way for columns of dark sedans interspersed with police vehicles and motorcycles. Most of the car windows were tinted so we could not see inside, but clearly these were important people. Crowds populated the main square, where from the presidential palace balcony, trumpets blared to announce the arrival of Raul Castro, who waved to the crowd with the Ecuadorian president Correa, followed by Chavez, the Chilean president, and Garcia. Those were the ones I recognized, but more followed. I was astonished that they were all so accessible and eager to wave and connect to the ever growing crowd.

We missed Correa's speech, when we wandered into a nearby church to admire the altarpiece and then to 'La Compañia', which is the Jesuit church covered on every surface inside with gold leaf. We spent so long admiring the altars and sculptures, that the lights were turned off suddenly and we were told it was time to leave. Maya wanted to see the evidence of Inca palaces, so we headed to Plaza de San Francisco, where the church and museum were closed (the church was closed in January for renovation, so perhaps that is still happening), but the Inca stones remain under the church. There is a wonderful store full of artisanal products from all over Ecuador, and Maya started planning how she will decorate her bedroom.

Old Quito was full of Quiteños enjoying the sunshine and the celebration, cheering the heads of state and taking their pictures. I missed having my camera, but it was easier not to worry about being robbed today. People of all ages were eating ice cream, and women in traditional dress were carrying platters of ice cream with cones. I was told to be careful of buying food off the street, so Maya and I played it safe with yummy 'Magnum' bars out of a freezer. I like the candied nuts one also buys on the street, but I figured that they are cooked, and therefore safe. They are very similar to the nuts I buy on Times Square in New York City.

Activities celebrating independence were planned throughout the evening, but I was worried about getting home before dark. We found the bus station and bought our tokens (25 cents for me and 12 cents for Maya) and arrived home safely. I can hear music and shouting in the streets tonight coming from the south of the city.

Cotopaxi was visible in the distance when I walked across the rooftop to get to our rooms, as was the dancing virgin (Panecillo). I am determined to find an apartment with a view!

Independence Day Parade

We joined the crowds celebrating 200 years of independence. President Correa was there to give a speech, but too far away to hear and see from our vantage point. There were floats made of styrofoam figures representing each of the provinces of Ecuador, and an endless parade of soldiers in a variety of colourful uniforms demonstrating specific purposes. I did not know that the army was so extensive, but Erika informed me that it is in fact too small and was not able to prevent Peru from taking a chunk of the land away from Ecuador. I was enjoying myself until I had my very typical Ecuadorian experience. I was using one camera to photograph the scene and left my spanking new 'point and shoot' in the pocket of my jacket (believing it was safe, silly me). I was aware that I was a target for pickpockets but focussed on my backpack and my more valuable camera and lenses. I was acutely conscious of being watched, and at one point a woman indicated that I was to be more careful. Nevertheless, only too late did I discover that the pocket of my jacket was empty and that the zipper was open. I did not feel it happen at all.

That put a damper on the day. Erika was unimpressed. This happens to everyone all the time and there is little that one can do to prevent it. I should not have left it in my pocket. I am lucky that I was not assaulted or threatened at knifepoint.

Altitude

Today was a perfect day to ascend the Teleferico. The sky was clear and I could see Cotopaxi to the south, and Pichincha to the west was not covered in clouds. I was surprised that Isabel decided to join us; Erika always tells me that she does not like to go out, and this is the second time she has decided to join us. I think she is most delighted with Maya and is convinced that if she spends more time with her, Maya will be fluent in Spanish in no time. It was sunny and warm when we arrived at the base of the mountain, which is already over 9000 feet, and we chose the express line so we could buzz past the waiting throngs to enter our own personal cable car. Each car accommodated only six people, and the ascent was steep and rapid, with the expanse of the city below us. Quito is spread out along a narrow valley from north to south, with mountains encircling it. I was disappointed not to see any of the volcanoes; Cotopaxi in the south, Cayambe in the north and Antisana to the east. The clouds were descending as we were ascending and when we disembarked, it was cold and windy and became colder with each moment. 'Mama', 'Papa', and 'GuaGua' (baby) Pichincha were clearly visible, but as we climbed to the top of the lookout, the clouds thickened and we were soon shrouded in dense fog. The city was visible, and looked sunny and warm below us.

I keep expecting to feel the altitude, but even walking a few thousand feet above Quito, I am still comfortable. There is oxygen available in the coffee shop, but seems entirely unnecessary. It is the cold that is the limiting factor, and it feels colder and colder minute by minute. isabel and Maya sit facing the view of the city and practice Spanish, while I climb further and find horses to rent, a small church, and a clearing with an Andean house spewing smoke out of the ceiling. The clouds keep thickening and we stay longer than I expected.

As we descend, the city looks brighter and brighter, and the new and old airports are visible, as is the colonial centre and the dancing Virgin of the Panecillo. There is an amusement park to the right as we circle back to the parking lot, and I am surprised that Maya does not insist on a visit, so I wonder if she notices or has grown too old to be interested or has decided to ignore it too.

A child has her pants down and is peeing along the side of the road and I wonder if that is something I would see in Baltimore or whether people here are more comfortable with bodily functions. When Maya tells me she has to go to the bathroom as we are driving on the freeway to New York, I always ask her if it is urgent enough to stop and do it by the side of the road and she always chooses to wait until we find a roadside establishment. I am not sure she would have ever stopped by the side of the road to take care of business.

It is hot in the sunshine as we walk to the car. I try to focus on the air, wondering if I can feel more oxygen available to me, but there does not seem to be a difference. Is it because I have been here before that the altitude does not seem to be a problem? Is my hemoglobin accustomed to the altitude because of the years in Salt Lake City and the Alps and several prior visits?

When we arrive home, we have time for a quick bite before Erika takes Maya and I out to look at appartments. The first one is new and modern but looks out on a construction site. The landlord assures me that the building will be completed by December, but I cannot imagine looking at men working and cement every day. The second apartment is ragged and the low ceilings are oppressive, but the views of Pichincha and the valleys to the north and the south are spectacular. We look at a house as well, but I want a view now, and believe that we may find both a suitable space AND a view.

Maya had a moment of tears and despair this afternoon. She misses her dog Elmer and her friends and her house and Eric. I can just hold her and reassure her and hope that she will find friends and comfort here.

I noticed that there are dogs everywhere and they are all barking all the time. my impression is that each house has one or more dogs. The houses are hidden behind stucco walls, and looking down a street with long high walls on either side suggests all sorts of secrets and mysteries. The streets look nondescript, there are no clues as to who live behind these walls, except for the dogs barking and straining on the balconies and rooftops to be heard.

We stop at a local fruit and vegetable market to restock. There are three women in traditional dress preparing the beans we ate the other night. I ask if they are Otavalenos, but Isabel tells me there are from nearby, that the Otavalenos do not sell fruit. But they are from the country and the produce is clean and organic and grown without pesticides, so it is much preferable to the supermarket fare.

At the house, Fidel cleans our room. Last time we were here, it was a woman who came daily to clean. Erika tells me they have known Fidel for fifteen years, and that he has worked for them off and on. The woman had a child and wanted to bring her child to work with her ,but that would be too distracting and she would not do her work, so Fidel was rehired. He is clearly indigenous, and shuffles around quietly and tries to be unobtrusive. He is polite and we share 'holas' when we see each other, but I am a little uncomfortable with his meekness. Isabel and Erika assure me that labour is cheap in Ecuador and it is likely that I will hire someone to take care of my house as well. That sounds both wonderful and somewhat unsettling.