El Mercado: The order of Chaos

Taxi cabs are yelling. Stray dogs are fighting, napping and barking. Trucks are passing on the wrong side of the road. Tuk tuks are beeping their obnoxiously high pitched horns, and thousands of people are littering the sidewalks and not daring to step into the street for fear of being run over. I am pacing through this maze, bolting between any openings that I can squeeze my lanky self through as I make my way into the market. This scene describes every hour of every day at the market in Pisco.

I managed to get myself to the central location of the market called Cinco Esquinas (five corners). The first street I look down, I see vendors selling only hardware supplies. Each small stand has copious amounts of screws, light bulbs, wire, tools, pipes and switches.

One stand after the next is selling the same, but somehow they all collaborate with each other. The next street is selling children's clothing: pants, shorts, dresses, and socks. Next to the clothing tiendas (shops), their is the random vendor selling toilet paper. I finally venture inside the market, a labyrinth of stands within a huge warehouse-type building.
The stench of raw meat and rotting rubbish hits me like a brick wall. However, the smell no longer repulses me because my nostrils have grown accustomed to it. In addition, if I were to walk 15 more paces in any direction, the scent will rapidly change to the smell of freshly prepared civiche or homemade empanadas.

As I walk through the isle of butchered chickens hanging by their feet, whole upside down gutted pigs, and porn magazines, I notice the women gracefully chopping the remains of a cow. I realize the reality of markets; and how no one here has bought their dinner in a pre-packaged, styrofoam tray to be taken home and microwaved, ready to eat in two minutes.

Im making my way towards Ray, our reliable veggie man who knows the routine of Pisco Sin Fronteras.

“Ok,” he says. “What are you making today?”

He knows that we are on a mission to prepare dinner for at least 60 people and that we are about to buy 12 kilos of veggies from him. He starts writing out a “factura,” a hand written receipt of all the veggies we are going to buy.

The first several times I strayed into a South American market, I was suffocated by the amount of people bustling through the tight spaces, the vendors yelling repeatedly trying to make a sale, the changing stench, and the lack of open space. Now, the experience has almost become comforting to me. Ive learned how to navigate the market as if I were a professional race car driver. Ive seen the culture seething out of every corner, every transaction, and every orifice. I envy markets here and wish I could bring them back home.

The weekend we stayed at La Hesperia by ourselves and learned about bananas with Marcelo

By: Kether (Ceviche, sin pescado)

Since we arrived in Ecuador we have been having problems with the concept of bananas. So let me lay it out for you:

Before arriving here in Ecuador, I knew of two main varieties of bananas: 1.) The yellow ones that are inexpensive and are generally distributed by Dole or Chiquita Banana (unless you buy the organic/fair trade bananas that cost a million dollars) and 2.) the green ones that I know as plantains.

I knew that frying a banana was not the same as frying a plantain because plantains are much more fibrous and thus make for better frying. Furthermore, I was under the impression that the term “platano” referred specifically to plantains: the long, thick, green bananas you can buy at Whole Foods, Latin American specialty markets, and sometimes in grocery stores near areas with high concentrations of Latin American folks. I was also under the impression that if you let those long, thick, green plantains sit, they will get ripe and be sweet.

My misimpressions were exacerbated by the fact that I didn’t know how to prepare platanos, or whether their flavor changed when they ripened. How to fry them up and make them be delicious was a concept beyond me.When I purchased them for my large household, I let the platanos sit in the three-tiered hanging basket until some other brave and/or knowledgeable soul attacked them. I never timed it quite right that I be in the area when someone decided to cook them. Each time I purchased them, I was not the one to enjoy them. This was never a problem except that now, it makes me wonder if the ones I purchased were sweet once they ripened or if they were always plain and savory.

Upon arriving in Ecuador, I knew that, being in the capital of the banana world, I wanted plantains: the sweet kind, fried up and served en masse on a big ol’ platter.

The first night we went out to a wonderful restaurant that served grilled meat of all varieties on a stick. I had seen plantains on the grill also and wanted some. I asked the server (mesero) if they had platanos.
He didn’t understand me.
I tried to explain that they were sweet.
I used the wrong word and he didn’t understand me.
Rayna tried to say that they were sweet and similar to bananas.
He smiled and said, “Ah! Sí. Entiendo.”
I thought we had succeeded in describing what we wanted and so I excitedly said, “Sí!!”
I was wrong.
Moments later he returned with six over-ripe, not-fried bananas, on a plate.
So as not to be rude, and probably also to save face, we ate all six bananas.
Two men at a table next to us laughed hysterically.

The following day the three of us had a meeting with the volunteer coordinator from La Hesperia. She spoke English well, so we asked her to explain the perplexities of bananas.
I think I remember her saying that maqueños and maduros were sweet plantains.Maqueño was used to describe plantains you fry and eat, while maduros were plantains you use for things like baking.
“Good,” we thought, feeling like we had the situation under control.

Several days later in Tandapi, a town on our way to La Hesperia, we stopped for lunch and asked for maqueños. The lady looked at us cockeyed and we said, “platanos maqueños.” She looked confused and we gave up. In Tandapi, street vendors have huge woks displaying a variety of meat, corn, and lucky for us, sweet plantains. When the server returned, I jumped up to show her what I meant. Honestly, I can’t remember what she called them but that once, I was successful in getting what I wanted.



When we arrived at La Hesperia, I discovered that there were ever-more varieties of bananas/platanos: green ones that turn purple and have an orange pulp, green ones that turn yellow that you can peel and eat, green ones that are huge and turn yellow and can be fried in either state, and yellow ones that have an orange-ish hue after they have been fried.



I ate what was provided to me, but always preferred the sweet platanos of whatever variety.

One weekend when only Marcelo and the three of us were around the reserve, we had a long talk with him about platanos, figuring he might be able to clear things up.

In our exceptionally detailed conversation we discovered that maduro means RIPE.
If only we had known that.
Furthermore, when we saw patacones on the menu, it meant fried savory bananas and that generally, if we ordered platanos, we could expect sweet plantains. Marcelo, realizing our unbelievable fascination and love of platanos brought us some from his own yard which he fried up for the following dinner. They were unreal.

Much later, after we left La Hesperia and arrived in El Carmen we stopped by a smoothie cart and perused the menu. We asked the smoothie baristas (not an official term) what each of the words meant. They would look at the word, and show us the corresponding fruit. Glancing at the menu, Guineo was a fruit with which I was unfamiliar. I pointed to the word and pronounced “Gee-nay-oh.”
The smoothie maker looked at the word and picked up a banana.
All we could do was laugh.

Truth be told I still don´t totally understand the concept of bananas but similar to the way there are a bagillion words for snow in the language of the Inuit, it appears that here there are a bagillion words for banana in Spanish.

Books to Read

By: Kether (Ceviche sin Pescado)

Sometimes I imagine this trip to be a book that has already been written.
Right now I have only read the first few pages of the book and am only a couple chapters deep. I have that feeling where if I stare at the width of the book or the numbers of pages for too long, I wonder if I’ll ever make it through the whole story.

As I hold the book for longer, weigh it in my hands, and flip through the pages I realize that where my thumb marks my page is already an eighth of the way through the book. This is enough to feel confident about the story resting between my thumb and forefinger, and enough so that the likelihood of finishing the book is much greater than when I started.

Twists ahead have been foreshadowed and I know that if I pay attention to the details now, I won’t have to flip back later to figure out what I missed.
I’ve read too many pages to put the story away. The plot is enticing. The characters have not developed fully and I know there is so much more to learn, I have the chance, if I take the time to finish.

I’ll let you know how the plot develops.

HOLY MOLY: The first few days of bicycle touring in South America

By: Rayna Weiss (Arena)

9/14/10

1) It usually rains (when I say rain I mean torrential downpour) in the afternoon.

2) Cars are very assertive and usually find it odd to see three bicycles with large yellow things following them.

3) Although a large truck tells you to pass on a downhill, blind curve, that doesn’t always mean that there isn’t oncoming traffic.

4) The expression “eres loca” usually is a compliment.

5) Ecuadorians might be the most generous people in the world; they have cared about three strangers from another county as if they were their own children.

6) With the latter in mind, they worry A LOT.

7) Chicken feet soup, oddly, is a very effective pick-me-up.

8) Disc brakes can be kind of annoying when one can’t figure out how to make them stop rubbing on one side or the other.

9) Honking doesn’t always mean: “get out of the way.”

10) This country might be the next cycling magazines dream come true. (Shh.. don’t tell)

first impressions

By: Kether (Keter)
9/17/10

We’ve arrived and settled ourselves in Ecuador. We stayed the first three nights in Quito, the capital city. Two nights in Hotel Rumipamba, close to the airport and one night in Hostal Guayunga in the Old Town. We spent our time in Quito getting lost and running around trying to grab the last few items for our trip south. I heard a single bird chuckle at our presence.



At one point we had a meeting at the top of a rather large hill. Upon reaching the top, it seemed likely I might not survive another.

A couple days later, as we left Quito we met a fellow in traffic, he asked us where we were going, we answered, and he ever so graciously offered to show us the way out of town. As we began our 42 km ascent to Aloag, I discovered that a couple days prior, I had been mistaken. I could, apparently, climb another hill.

The view over Quito was amazing, I felt a little bit like a deity staring over my creation. The buildings were packed together so closely it appeared as though there were no open spaces.

As we pedaled I sang myself songs, practiced my Spanish, got frustrated when I couldn’t remember the words, attempted to identify plants by the side of the road, and tried to classify road kill.

Sometime early in the ride, it began to drizzle. At first, retrieving our coats didn’t seem like a good idea because it was still quite warm, so we continued forward. Shortly thereafter, it began to hail. We stopped off on the side of the road and took cover under a wide awning with a couple other folks, a young gentleman and an older woman in what I can only guess is traditional dress based on the number of woman I saw wearing almost the same outfit. She wore a long dark skirt with tall wool socks. Her shoes were black and seemed to me of the mary jane variety. She wore a thick wool poncho and a hat with a short brim all the way around, kind of like a fedora. Her hair was in a bun tied tightly below the brim of her hat. Several of her front teeth were filled with gold and she smiled broadly at the three of us, our bikes, and the bright yellow trailers (remolques).

I went to grab my raincoat and experienced the first consequence of an illogical packing job when I had to dig for my raincoat. I made a mental note and moved on.
Earlier that afternoon, because we were sort of rushed due to a late start and the strong necessity to reach our destination, I lazily chose not to change shoes, and instead, road the day in my Chacos. By the end of the day, I couldn’t feel my feet. I was fearful of frostbite but several hours after our ride, when I discovered my feet had returned to a reasonable temperature, I was pleased to note that my feet were intact and sans frostbite.

We arrived in Aloag, a very small crossroads town: the junction of several of the main Ecuadorian thoroughfares including the Pan-American. The accommodations were limited but a very nice fellow, Juan Luis, who ran the New York Hostal showed us a place to eat dinner and led us in the direction of beer, chocolate and guava paste. We spent several hours with him, conversing and practicing our Spanish. He gave us each a bracelet with the colors of the Ecuadorian flag. We each wear ours proudly. In the morning, his friend Fernando brought us to breakfast across the street and I felt like a legitimate trucker: minus the 18-wheeler, load of goods to be transported, and trucker hat. He would not accept our protests when he jumped to pay; we thanked him profusely.

As we road out of Aloag I was again sure that I could not summit the difficult 8 km ahead. Clearly, I couldn’t give up and eventually my legs warmed and I caught the cyclists high. At the top of the hill, we passed through a toll, I would have laughed if they asked us to pay, but they did not, thankfully. The following 50 km were the most terrifying and exhilarating of my life. The trip was almost entirely down hill, fluctuating between 2 and 4 lanes, through hundreds of switchbacks, road construction, and traffic. My brakes (los frenos) took a beating and I am ever so thankful for disc brakes.

We reached Tandapi where outside nearly every restaurant was an entire pig hanging from a hook from which the server (el mesero) would cut various slices to fry, bake, boil or grill. We stopped for lunch at one of the restaurants and I ordered arroz con pollo, Rayna ordered the lunch special, and Emily ordered carne y papas fritas. Rayna’s lunch came with caldo con pollo, which was our first experience with chicken feet.

From Tandapi we headed just a bit further south to Esperie, where we missed our left and were thankfully retrieved by an employee of La Hesperia, Marcelo and his friend, William.

At this point we’ve been here a week and have completed projects ranging from: bamboo (bambú) planting (which includes the use of a machete), cacao roasting/grinding, coffee harvesting/drying/roasting/grinding/consuming, peanut harvesting and planting, orange collecting, vegetable garden (huerta) construction, and fresh milk transport.

As a general rule, I feel like a person who is rather connected to my food. I have a good understanding of where it comes from and how much effort and work is required for it to land on my plate. The experience I am having here at La Hesperia has showed me that I have a LOT left to learn. I learn every day, with each new task, just how much work is necessary to bring my most favorite treats to my plate.

If you’re interested in learning more about food and the things we’ve learned here at La Hesperia, please check the food blog!

Thank you Steamboat!

What a successful fundraiser! We had such a great time at the Old Town Pub. Thank you all who came to support us and thank you to all the small businesses of Steamboat Springs, CO who donated. We can't wait until the adventure... 18 days until we take off to Ecuador. See you all on the flip side!

About us:

PEDAL for Change is a not-for-profit education organization founded to aid students of the United States in increasing their global perspective on the impacts and realities of environmental change. Our goal at PEDAL: People for Environment, Diversity, Action, and Learning is to work with and challenge high school and middle school students across the US to utilize sustainable living methods, instigate environmental collaboration principles, and build global relationships. Our projects, beginning with Cycling South America for Environmental Action, will be incorporated into our partnered classrooms’ curriculum as we collaborate with students on local projects and relay information that we have learned on environmental issues and practices in South America.