Ecuador. I write this from Cuenca, the southern city of 350,000 that snores its cloudy diesel mornings away under thick gray, then blows the mist away by 11 for three hours of blue brilliance before again clouding over for the mid-afernoon rain. The weather is clockwork. This city is a split personality: colonial+intellectual, mestizo+indigenous...a city of contrasts high in the Andes mountains that sits one airplane hour south of the equator. (If you prefer the bus, it takes 12 hours. Yes, twelve. This is the sierra. Nothing happens fast here.) Here in Cuenca, between the men in business suits it´s typical to see the stout, strong Quechua woman in her beautiful shawl and felt fedora heaving a wheelbarrow piled with fresh grapes and other produce along the sidewalk. Streets are cobblestone here, yet certain buildings grab you with their glass facades.
Yesterday Tara and I flew down from Quito after two days in Otovalo, a vibrant city with a thriving indigenous market. My first two days in Ecuador were spent exploring Quito and learning the streets and buses of the big city. Thus far we haven´t taken a cab anywhere, and we´ve rarely eaten a meal for more than $2 or $3 each.
Tomorrow...off to the university of Cuenca to do some research. This morning I had a great meeting with Dr. Contag and met the niece of the poet about whom I am writing. It was pretty cool. But for now, the young kid behind the counter of this little second-floor internet cafe on a bustling sidestreet of town is telling me it´s time to stop this blogging nonsense. More to come, maybe Wednesday. I can´t upload photos from here, so you´ll have to check my flickr site next week.
