Our Crazy Adventure in Patul

There is a certain amount of truth in the fact that Ron and I were never really "budget" travelers, no. We like to have our own bathroom, ideally a king-sized bed and if breakfast is included, well, that's pretty perfect. We aren't Waldorf Astoria kind of folks either, but swing closer to that side of the scale than the other. 

Then we decided to discover South America and, as neither of us is working, this requires certain...accommodations...to the budget. We've camped, rented RVs, hosteled it. (Okay, in a private room, but it was still a hostel.)  Now, we decided to go off and see this tiny little pueblecito called Patul. It's due north of Cajas National Park. There are no roads to get to it, just horse trails and it's high up in the Andes where they actually get frost and snow. (Did I mention it's still officially winter here?)  The good news is that we got to stay indoors, which actually has four walls, but we're still in Ecuador, so there is no central heating. Ah, we're on the equator, how bad can it be?

Why this craziness, you might ask? One of our friends has always wanted to go there and arranged a trip for us. Us being 10 brave souls ready to roll the dice on a new experience.

Start of the hike with Indy leading the way

Wet! That's what you get for hiking at cloud level

Our overnight stay was in a village that has a population of 43 (give or take). They (happily) got electricity a few years ago, but there's no internet, no municipal services or other niceties. (Yup, that means no toilets ergo no bathrooms with nice things like sinks and tap water to wash.) The hike into the village was going to take approximately 6 hours, so we were quite pleased to do it in 5.5. The weather was not cooperative. The rain started on the bus ride up and continued to dog us through most of the trek. When the wind joined it, it made the going pretty unpleasant. The walk is about 11 kilometres (a little under 7 miles), but you have to pass through a summit in the mountains that takes you up to almost 4200 metres (13,812 feet). Okay, so you start at around 3700 metres, but still, it's a steep slog up that hill over a very short span of time, especially in crappy weather.

While the wind and rain were pretty unrelenting, we were happy to be heading down hill. In a small village called Baute, a lady was kind enough to let us shelter in her house, to warm up and have something to eat. She and our guide exchanged pleasantries (and money changed hands, I'm sure). She told us that she gets visitors maybe 5 times a year, and most are couples who are lost in the wilds of the Cajas. Let that be a cautionary tale for you, should you decide to visit.

Baute in better weather (on the return trip)

Taking off the chill in a local homestead

Photo by Bob Itami

Photo by Bob Itami

The cloud finally started lifting as we arrived at our destination. The laguna was beautiful and the valley was spotted with buildings with grass covered rooves. We could finally make out the soaring arcs of the surrounding mountains and the sun made an appearance.

The village is picturesque and even houses a small cemetery dating back to the late 1800s. There is a school that the children from Baute also attend. The school has 11 students.

Half-century old homestead in Patul

Life in the village is quite humbling. The farm animals are abundant and the chickens love to wander through the houses at will. They're often chased back outside with a broom or swift foot in their direction, but seem undeterred about finding a cozy roost somewhere inside. The house that we stayed in was made from adobe and cinder block and lacked doors or glass in the windows.(Like most of the houses in the area.) 

The openings are covered with whatever scraps can be found, like old plastic feed bags, tarps and the occasional animal skin. The interior flooring of the home we stayed in was a combination of dirt, concrete and wood. The kitchen seems to be the heart of the home, which is pretty universal, but not all homes sport a very pregnant guinea pig, tucked in a warm corner. The entire family gathers in the one room, cooking over an open fire and nestling up on benches against the walls to stave off the cold.

The family was incredibly gracious and somehow managed to feed the 11 of us from the tiny kitchen, not just once but three times. 

The cooking fire, no stove, just open flame.
Photo by Bob Itami

Meals have no definition here, there is no cereal for breakfast or sandwiches for lunch. All meals come with rice, potatoes and some form of protein. The vegetables that we ate were brought in, except for the broad beans, which I believe probably are their main source of vitamins. The trout must be running as we had beautiful little fish for both lunch and breakfast the next day. Our dinner consisted of freshly butchered chicken. I'm pretty sure that one of the photos I took is of our dinner. The children were tasked with catching the birds and putting them in a bag, presumably to calm the fowl before their imminent demise. This is life on a farm and gave me a clear understanding that if it were up to me to dispatch the meat, I'd probably be vegetarian or pescatarian. 

Delicious or darling, you decide

Somehow, more palatable

Dinner, anyone?

The temperature never hit double digits the day we arrived and dropped to below zero in the night. You could actually feel it as we sat in a small circle huddled under the only light bulb in the main living area enjoying the fruits of the family farm. We called it a day before 8pm, seeking to get away from the cold, by curling up in our sleeping bags and finding oblivion. It was then that the family gathered and ate their own meal. 

Abuelita y nieta (grandma and granddaughter), staying warm
Photo by Bob Itami

There is no early to bed, even for a farming family. It wasn't a restful night, between the cold, the noise of the family and the farm animals outside, the dogs running amok in the middle of the night and sharing a room with almost the whole group made for a challenged sleep. I rather hate how much of a slave I am to my little routines and luxurious comforts.  

Our neighbours for the night

One of the boys took a chair and turned it into a motorcycle with a few sticks and an amazing imagination, he played on that with his siblings and cousins for the rest of the night. If that isn't a life lesson, I don't know what is.

We were up at daylight, around 6 am and on the road before 9am.   Before leaving, I had an unfortunate interaction with a thistle plant while using the outdoor "facilities". Mental note, don't do that...even if the plant looks innocuous it can still git ya. I had welts the size of quarters for most of the day and a prickling sensation that I cannot recommend.

The return journey was grueling. We all knew it would be challenging, having walked down the track to get to Patul, but little did we know it would be a 3 hour+ ascension, with unrelenting hills and only the smallest respites of level ground. There were a few times when my legs were burning and begging me to rest, but the cold wouldn't allow it. Once at the summit, we still had another couple of hours down to get to the parking area where our transportation would be waiting. Despite the physical demands of the hike back out, the weather was much more cooperative, offering sunshine and blue skies (with a cold wind), with the clouds still threatening to gather, causing us to keep a brisk pace. It was one of the hardest hikes I've done so far, but none of us gave up and we made it back to the parking lot in a respectable 5 and a half hours. The whole group deserves a good round of applause for taking on such a demanding trek and making it without incident.

Ever upward

Trail Warriors

The road travelled, looking back to the valley

It was an eye opening experience, one that I'll remember for a long time and one that will make me more grateful for the life I have, and appreciative of how well other people manage, no not just manage, but thrive and enjoy, a life with so much less comfort than I have. If you ever have the opportunity to experience something like this, take it, embrace it and appreciate how privileged we actually are to have doors and internet and a ready supply of water coming out of our taps, not to mention the other trappings of "civilised" life. We don't need more, in truth, we could probably do with a whole lot less and, for me, that's comforting in its own way. I can survive with less, I can be happy with less and the world would continue to turn.

La Busqueda (the search)

If you've ever lived abroad, you know one thing to be true, nothing is where it should be. It seems that every culture has their own sense of order. It applies to traffic, layouts of stores, government offices...you name it.

Our first real sense of this was when we were looking for a voltage adapter to take with us to Australia. We struck out at the usual electrical stores, large department stores, mom and pop shops and every store that carried luggage. We finally came across one in a little hole-in-the-wall tienda and happily coughed over the $20 or $30 that they asked.  It took us three weeks to find what we were looking for. (It's a bit like living in the Amazing Race, just when you think you've got it licked, something else goes awry.)

The Latest Challenge

It happens, on a smaller scale, at the grocery store. Sometimes, they just don't have what you want...say, dijon mustard. (We went two years before some finally appeared on the shelves of the local grocery store.) Other things, like duct tape are stashed in an obscure corner with car accessories, or shoe polish, right next to the candles. I'm sure it made sense to someone. We've learned to walk the aisles very slowly, with great attention to the lower and upper shelves. 

Fast forward to our return from the northern climes. Cuenca is DRY. Part of it is due to altitude and thin air, part of it is just because of the general climate. While it can rain a lot, the moisture just doesn't hang around, except in cloud form. Against all advice for sanity, we decided to look for a humidifier. (How hard could that be?) This is not a hot commodity here, only crazy gringos could ever want such a thing. We found a couple (literally two...in the whole city) of units that would probably moisturize and three bedroom house, but we were hoping for something smaller. The internet wasn't helpful, the local store that we set our hopes on didn't have any humidifiers in stock. We decided to walk to a large department store on the other side of the city. (Coral Hipermercado, for those who are curious.)

Upon arrival, our hopes were buoyed. There was a good selection of fans, heaters and air conditioning units , but no, no humidifiers. We went to the bathroom area, still nothing. The baby department...nope. About to abandon our search, we noticed the shelves of canes, walkers and various medical aides...well, why not, we thought. There...low and behold...were nebulizers (so close!!!) and...miracle of miracles...small humidifiers. We were jubilant in our success! (The units were also $50 cheaper than the large ones we'd already found, that counts as a super bonus.) It even has mood lighting, that changes colour. (Sure, the video would be more impressive if it were dark...you get what you pay for, right?)

Moral of the story? Things are not going to be like they are back home - period. If you can't embrace this concept, don't do the expat thing. If you can find exultation in the little victories, then living abroad might just be for you.

To cap off this good news feed, I thought I'd let you know that our voltage adapter didn't make it past the first plug in, but hey, that's how it goes. We're still feeling pretty good that the humidifier will work as required.

Pachamama Voices Her Displeasure

It's not a big secret that Ecuador is edging the notorious "Ring of Fire" (did you hear that as a deep voice with an echo? I did.) So, it should come as little surprise that we experience the occasional geologic disturbance aka earthquake. If the location doesn't give it away, then the long ridge of volcanoes that run down the back of the Andes might be a further indicator that the ground likes to rumble.

For the first year or so, we really didn't notice any tremors. When we moved to our new apartment, we'd occasionally get caught in a slight shaking that made it seem like a very heavy truck had just gone by. (But it hadn't, it was a teeny earthquake.) It was slightly off-putting, but over before we even realized it.

Fast forward to the 16th of April 2016,. While we were frolicking in Tasmania, a very large earthquake hit northern Ecuador, devastating large swaths of the northern provinces like Esmereldas. It was a 7.8 on the Richter and classified on the Mercali scale as VIII, meaning severe. We were glad to have missed it, but followed the news of the destruction and loss closely. The quake was felt in Cuenca and was strong enough to crack stucco and open our kitchens drawers.

Earthquake damage 2016

The intensity of the tremors, once we returned, was noticeably stronger, but still not scary or threatening. Again, they were over before we could even react. One did make one of our paintings fall of the wall, due to the directionality, and that was disturbing enough at 5 o'clock in the morning, trust me.

On our return from Europe (I know...we sound so worldly!), in November of 2017, we got caught in an earthquake in Guayaquil. We were on a bus, getting ready to depart and didn't feel a thing, but the bus station (all 3 floors) was evacuated and our trip delayed by at least an hour. When we got home there were two additional tremors that night, which put our teeth on edge.

Then on September 6th, we were sitting at our neighbours' house enjoying a perfectly lovely dinner when the building starts moving. Just as we're realizing what's happening the movement ebbed slightly, only to increase and give us a really good shake. Enough for us to try and find safe harbour in doorways. Some of the tenants in the building actually evacuated.  It shook for less than 30 seconds in Cuenca, probably much less, but I wasn't actually counting Mississippis or one one thousands, to be honest. We're still waiting to get a full damage assessment for the epicentre which is around 200kms away. The video is set in Guayaquil where the quake was much more violent.

We weren't the only ones hit, Japan and Brazil also got shaken up, to varying degrees on the same day. You can talk about tectonic plates and volcanic activity all you want, but I can't help but think, especially in a land where western religion and traditional culture so easily blend that Pachamama is unhappy and I can't help but think that she has a right to be. 

South America and Asia are being deforested at an alarming rate. The world's oceans have more garbage than fish, air and water quality around the world are plummeting and half the world is on fire. We human's are a one army extinction event; the proportions of which the world has never seen before. (That includes the meteor that took out the dinosaurs. That's a reference for you evolutionists!) I know climate change is fake news, despite all of this. The world is flat and only a few thousand years old...sigh.

For me to heed the warning  won't be enough, I'm afraid. I don't know if I'm ready for End of Days, but I may not have a choice, if we can't change our ways and honour the only world we have, by treating her well and healing the wounds that we've caused. If we can't achieve that, prepare to really hear Pachamama roar.

Escaramuza (Skirmish!)

Right now, Ecuador is in the season of celebrating their independence from the Spanish overlords - my word, not theirs. (They also celebrate the arrival of the Spaniards...I guess any reason is good enough for a party here.)

Born to ride!

In the environs of Cuenca, the town of Punta Coral has the Escaramuza, a horse rally of fairly sizable proportions, followed by a pampa mesa and concert/dance in the evening. It's a pretty big deal, and we decided this was the year to experience the festivities. The patron saint of Punta Coral is Saint Augustin and they were celebrating his saint's day. Good times! Nothing says "holy day" like vast quantities of food and alcohol.
 

Shahbaz and LT "enjoying" Ecuadorian hospitality

It's a pretty wild time and, while we didn't stay for the pampa mesa (a traditional Ecuadorian picnic) or the dance later on, we did get to watch the horsemen play out their traditional skirmish that reminded me of something between the RCMP Musical Ride and the chariot race in Ben Hur.

Photo by Ken March

Organised chaos

Lots of drinking is involved. Canalazo (a warm alcoholic punch with ever changing ingerdients), fortified wines, chicha and other mysterious and unnamed things circulated with alarming frequency. I was loathe to turn down the offer in case of offending someone. Fortunately,  once the riders arrived, I was spared from any further hospitality.

Striking close up shot by Bob Horowitz

Some people might not know that I'm allergic to horses (most likely their dander), so being down wind of the party wasn't the smartest tactical move...thank heavens for antihistamines!

 

Me sporting "allergy face" photo Bob Horowitz

 

Enjoying chicha (mild corn alcohol)

Some of our gang:
Lois, Linda, Bob, Shahbaz, Jeff, LT, and Ric

The whole thing was fairly spectacular and I would recommend it. Stay for the pampa mesa, if you can, and enjoy watching the riders slowly getting lower and lower in their saddles as the chicha (et al) kicks in. 

The final course - photo by Bob Horowitz

We chose to end our day with lunch at a local joint, instead of free loading off of good Ecuadorian hospitality. There was a good selection: ceviche, asado (roast pork aka chancho), sacocho (stewed, on-the-bone pork with herbs and citrus, trucha, maiz, llapangachos (fried potato patties) and ensalada de la casa (almost always lettuce, onion, a bit of grated carrot with vinegar). Of course, rice and mote (MOE-tay which is mostly corn mostly corn) were available. The beer was cold, so we had no complaints.

Embrace it or Die

I can't begin to guess how many blogs I've done about the whacky world of Ecuadorian bureaucracy and just general quirkiness, but I can't resist another one.

Yup, I guess the blush of being home has worn off slightly. Of course, this is the "life we've chosen" as a friend often says, but some things are just so...well...foreign. 

Sunset in Cuenca

In an attempt to comply with the health insurance requirement here, we decided to apply for the government medical coverage, known as IESS (not I E S S, but eeeyes!). So the spousal unit applies with little effort, and then we try to add me as a dependent...nope. So we trundle ourselves down to the IESS office, line up, get a number and then wait for our turn. The nice lady helps us, getting all my information and entering me into the system. Was that it? Was I registered? Nope. She tells us we have to go back home, log in to the system and add me properly now that she's registered me as a possible dependent. Off we go and low an behold, there I am on the list of dependents. We check the box, press continue and finalize. I am now supposedly registered. We shall see. (I did get a certificate of insurance, so that's a good sign, right?) 

Little man so proud to be astride

A bit round about, but such is the way things work here. Our chocolate contact suddenly wasn't offering her services anymore, so we had to go directly to the source; a manufacturer on the coast. Of course they'd help us, and it would be less expensive than going through and intermediary. We received the product list, got together a big order for ourselves and friends and placed it. They'll deliver the next day...(yup, wait for it)...if we can deposit the funds to their bank right away. Wait, what? We can't pay on delivery? Nope. But the banks are closed.  "Go early tomorrow." But we have another appointment tomorrow morning. "Deposit when you can and send a photo of the receipt and we'll arrange the deliver."

Cotton candy vendor

Much back and forth ensued. We weren't crazy about depositing almost $100 in a bank account where we'd never see it again. Needless to say, we wound up rolling the dice and doing the deposit and low and behold, the chocolate showed up the following day - 10 minutes after we set the delivery deadline, of course.

Sweeping vista of the coastal BC mountains

So, this is the craziness that we've signed on to, at least for now. So we must embrace it or risk losing our minds. We just have to realize that this isn't really a problem...it's not like we don't have the time and we've chosen to be here, so we have to play by their rules, no matter how unusual they seem to us.