Thanksgiving in Quito

In America, for those of you not from America, Thanksgiving is probably the second biggest holiday of the year. I can’t say that is my favorite holiday. That would have to be Halloween – especially Halloween in New England, where it just seems to belong. In fact, having spent so much time either out of the country or in some far flung corner of the country, its significance has, to be honest, diminished in my mind.


Not that this is a good thing. Living on an Indian reservation for all those years certainly gave me a perspective on the holiday. Some of it was bad – like the treatment of Native Americans over the years. Some of it was good – like the importance of gratitude and family.

This year, I find myself, yet again, in a different country. Needless to say, my perspective on Thanksgiving is affected once again. In the past, I’ve lived in places that in some respects made me look at the States in a disparaging light. Living in Europe, I was exposed to countries with decent health care, education, transportation and public services. It was a pleasure. I became increasingly critical of the fact that we didn’t have those things in my home country.

It made me sad to see that we had become a “can’t do” nation. We can’t cut on CO2 emissions, we can’t have universal health coverage, we can’t improve the schools. Of course, those of us who argued that we could do these things became an evil cabal of Trotskyite nay sayers who hated America.

I still maintain those criticisms. However, living in Ecuador has given me a different perspective. It would seem that Thanksgiving is a good time to share those criticisms.

I’m writing this blog entry in an incredibly beautiful house. It looks like I live in the country. During the day it looks out over a lush green hills and a gorgeous volcano, perfect in its conical whiteness. At night I go to bed listen to a tree frog that makes a delightful clicking noise. In the morning, before my alarm goes off, I wake up to a dawn chorus like you would not believe. In the heat of the day, hummingbirds dash, flower to flower, outside my window.

It is paradise behind a wall. I never imagined myself living behind a wall, but I do now. It is a roughly 10 foot wall with an electric gate and broken glass mortared onto the top to keep thieves out. My office is similar. I sit at the window. For it, the closest thing is another wall. This one, instead of having glass has electric fencing on top. Beyond that, moves the hustle and bustle that you would expect in a capital city. Frustrated commuters lean too heavily on their horns, and there is occasional sounds of shouting.

Between the cars, people try to sell stuff or beg. One kid carries his lame brother – pant legs rolled up to show the sores – getting handouts from drivers. Another guy sells art prints. There is also an indigenous woman. She sells candy, cigarettes, cough drops, and other stuff to drivers. I like her. She is there in the morning when I come to work, and she is still there in the evening when I leave. I often buy a box of Chicklets from her. She works hard, never begs and always smiles. What else can I do? After I make my purchase, I step over her two boys, asleep on the sidewalk, and go to work.

I am writing this in the midst of a blackout. Ecuador does not have an adequate enough infrastructure to deal with a minor drought. A few weeks without rain and the hydroelectric that powers this country can’t cope. So, every day we lose power for a few hours. It is, to be certain, a bit of a pain in the ass.

But, it is also something to be thankful for. It is a time to read – be in silence – and take a break from the rest of the world.

I won’t really get to celebrate Thanksgiving this year. I’m OK with that. But certainly, living in Ecuador has given me pause. America certainly has its share of flaws, but the closest thing to a wall I’ve ever lived behind was the picket fence in the front yard of my loving (if slightly crazy) childhood home. Before coming here, I never thought to plan out what I carry so that I did not make an attractive target for thieves, and I certainly never stepped over children sleeping on the street.

That is truly something to be thankful for.

***On a side note – for those of you reading this, I want to thank you. I’ve moved quite often over the course of my life. During that time I’ve made friends with some truly amazing people. If I have one regret in life, it is that I have not stopped in one place long enough to get to know many of you better. I am thankful to so many of you for so much. I also want to thank my family (the few of you that there are) for providing me with a childhood that prepared me so well for the life that I truly love.

-Tommy

Watching Condors in the Paramo

I instantly knew what it was.

Some of the guys on the team were up on a vantage point, helping us to navigate the easiest path around the mountain. One of the team members was struggling a bit, and some of us were holding back to give him a hand. Suddenly, the gesturing changed. Rather than a relaxed attempt – gesturing up, down, or level, they were pointing to something behind them. And they were excited.

We were up in the paramo, a high, sort of alpine ecosystem that hovers, more or less, above the tree line but below the snow line. Because it is in the tropics, it has some unique characteristics. For example, a few trees do manage to hang on to places where the sun keeps it warm enough. Unlike the alpine areas of Montana, which I am used to, the paramo doesn’t freeze. While there is a dry and wet season, there is never a part of the year when it is covered in snow. As a result there are plenty of boggy spots. In some places it felt more like I was back hiking in the moors of Scotland.

It is a spectacular wilderness – filled with tracks of deer, Andean foxes, and other animals that I didn’t recognize. The birding is also fantastic. To be honest, I didn’t recognize most of the birds. There were two avid birders on the trip, but I have to admit that I forgot the names of most of the birds that we saw.

But there was one bird that was obvious.

As they were gesturing towards something behind, it suddenly appeared, thrusting up into the sky behind them. It was immediately obvious that the wingspan was longer than these guys were tall. And they weren’t short guys.

Condors are one of those things you never expect to get to see. They are on the list of well known animals that few people ever get to see – kind of like jaguars, wolves, and polar bears. They aren’t unicorns or dragons, but they are close to it.

Yet, there it was, hovering above us, checking us out. Then it moved down – circling below, looking for food sources that are increasingly rare due to poaching and other human interventions.
There were three in all – two matures and an immature. It is the immature that was the miracle. Condors are rare. They are huge, majestic, beautiful – and will probably disappear within my lifetime. Scientists estimate that 20,000 – 30,000 species become extinct per year. That number might rise to 200,000 – 300,000 per year. Most of them are undocumented – some fungus that grows in a minor basin in Australia or a grass found by one pond in the Russian steppe. Each one is a loss. In pragmatic terms, we don’t know which of these species has the cure for cancer, or might produce oil that can produce cleaner energy, or even possible food sources for our growing population.

However, aside from economic and pragmatic values, there is just something spectacular about seeing a condor. We would never allow the Taj Mahal or the Mona Lisa be destroyed needlessly. Nor should we.

I wasn’t thinking of biodiversity or cures for cancer. I had even stopped thinking about getting to our campsite. I simply watched the condors. It was one of the most majestic and beautiful experiences that life has ever offered me. To say more would be like trying to describe the color red or the smell after rain. Some things just have to be experienced.

I fear it is an experience that will be offered to fewer and fewer people.

Another posting on the V!VA blog.

For some reson, it was decided that I should handle festivals for my company's blog. Go figure.

Here is my take on it.

http://news.vivatravelguides.com/?p=874

First Blog at the New Job

I also write blog articles for V!VA. I finished my first one today. It is on bus travel in Latin America:

http://news.vivatravelguides.com/

Missing Ruminhaui

So, my big plan to climb Ruminhuai fell apart. I should say right up front that I had some reservations about it. The guide did not exactly sound professional. From what I understand, he left a person alone when she got exhausted and tired. So I can’t complain too much. That said, it wasn’t the poor quality guide that convinced me not to go.

In fact, I was packed and ready to go. It would have been the highest peak I had ever climbed by a good thousand feet or so. Unfortunately, just as the e-mail from one of my co-workers came with the instructions, the internet crashed. Not having a phone, this was my one avenue for information. So, eventually it was time for bed – and still no information.

This by the way is one of the joys of living in the third world. As I mentioned before, we are having rolling blackouts here. Although we did not lose power last night, I think that the internet might have crashed because of the black outs – so who knows?

I got up the following morning at about 6:15, and kind of putzed around for another 15 minutes before finally reading the e-mail telling me that I had to be at an Ecovia (kind of like a trolley service) stop at 7:00. By the time I got dressed – finished organizing my stuff and got to the door it was almost 7:00. I didn’t get a cab until 7:15, and got the meeting place after 7:30. Needless to say, the party was gone – or at least I didn’t see them.

The lesson learned – buy a cell phone.

Blackouts

Here is the situation. A few years ago, Ecuador cut off diplomatic ties with Columbia. It is something to do with Ecuador supporting the FARC guerrillas. FARC was originally an indigenous resistance movement that ended up being taken over by cocaine lords. Columbia entered Ecuador to get some of the FARC leaders - it lead to some kind of kerfuffle that resulted in the two nations cutting diplomatic relationships. I could be entirely wrong about all of this - it is just what I was told.

Now this might not seem like much, but Ecuador can barely meet its own energy needs. It used to buy energy from Columbia when demand couldn't be met. Today, Ecuador does not have that option.

Ecuador has been having a very dry season. It might seem unrelated, but half the country is run on hydropower. That means that Ecuador cannot currently meet the demand for electricity. In other words, half the country does not have electricity. To compensate for this, they have started doing rolling blackouts throughout the country. Every part of the city has 4-6 hour blackouts each day – at least until it rains.

So then, what does this mean? Who the hell knows? Around here, rumors spread quickly. Some suspect that this will lead to overwhelming public dissatisfaction with the president - others think it will come to nothing. People will just adjust and get on with their business. I suppose that if this was California I would bet on a recall vote - but here, it could mean anything. I doubt it will lead to a coup, but I suspect that people might protest and rally in the streets. It definitely helps one to appreciate what it means to live in a stable and prosperous nation.

***On a personal note, my workplace gets hit by the blackouts between 3:00 PM and 7:00, so I get out of work early. My apartment gets hit between 11:00 and 3:00 – so I am guessing that I might get full benefits from this. I have some friends whose power goes out between 7:00 and 11:00. I guess they will just have to sit around in the dark.

Swimming with Dolphins

This past weekend, I went swimming with dolphins. That might be an exaggeration. I suppose that I should say that I went swimming near dolphins-only about 20 – 30 feet. They did stick around us, so I am going to assume that they weren’t too bothered by a bunch of gringos attempting to achieve transcendental harmony on their fishing time.

I don’t know the recommended distance to keep from a dolphin. Indeed, I could almost hear my own voice, exasperated: “Excuse me, sir, you need to say 25 yards away from those dolphins.” Granted, I was usually pestering people about bison, not dolphins – but you get the point.

This weekend was probably the first time in my life that I ever spent a few days bumming around at the beach. Mompiche, a sleeply little town on the Ecuadorian coast, was a wonderful place to start. It was great – Bob Marley, sand in the shoes, the smell of rum and coconuts. Granted, it wasn’t five star – but somehow the fact that there were five of us crammed into a little, stinky room added to the charm.

This is not a bad way to live. Despite drinking a bit more than was appropriate, I am probably healthier for the trip. The entire time I ate nothing but fruits and seafood (baring one freakishly good pizza) – almost all of which was fresh.

I’m thankful for all of it, it was a good time – with new friends, new places and new adventures. A bit more drama, and it could have been a lifetime move.

But when the trip comes into focus, it isn’t about Ron (it turned out that his real name was something like Inito), bartender extraordinaire. Although the “Coco Ron” was excellent.

Instead, the focus is hundreds of little red crabs scattering on the beach, blue footed boobies launching from seaside cliffs, or simply falling asleep to the sound of roaring waves. I believe that affinity for natureis innate in all of us. We need to see crabs on beaches and bison, listen to waves and birds – and sometimes we need to be close to them. Sometimes 25 yards is too much - too far.

In the sea, salt and waves – I was never under any illusions about the dolphins. I assume that they were feeding – but maybe they were resting or just being social. I doubt they paid me much attention. Whatever it was those – meeting nature on its own terms, in its own element, is always a transformative moment. It is in those moments that we get to be just that little bit more human.