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.
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.
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.