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!