DONDE ES?

I just returned from a humanitarian mission to the land of my father; Riobamba, Ecuador S.A. The mission went well enough I suppose, and I am so very glad to have been able to come to the aid of a loved one. But honestly, and sadly, this is a sticky country and there are sticky people in this sticky country. There is an onslaught of wrong in this land...and of course with that the usual greed, corruption, and exploitation by near and far. And that goes without saying that some of these stickies are "familia" and this is by far the most unfortunate of the unfortunates...but I don't' want to discuss this now....

Analysis: I have travelled to Ecuador on four separate occasions. I can say with some certainty that I do not like the pollution here, the food, the smell of burning cilantro and forests - or the diesel exhaust clouds that choke the cities, in this third-world land. I do not like the overall disdain for appearance the inhabitants seem to have in this country. Are there lazy minds at work here? Maybe a product of hundreds of years of oppression and enslavement by their Spanish conquerors?

Sure, I can appreciate the fact that I was raised in the U.S. and around the luxuries associated therein. And I can also appreciate the fact that because of this I have developed a separate set of standards apart from the standards or ideas of my fathers land, or lack thereof, namely infrastructure and beautification. I suppose what I can't seem to wrap my head around is that in this technologically advanced age, the age of information; why are these places so backwards still? When one can hop on the internet and visit anyplace in the world; where is the visual evidence that these people want to improve themselves? Where are those people that say to themselves, "hey that looks nice, I want that. I can do that!"? On an individual scale, why is it hard for people to grab their boot straps and pull themselves up out of the decrepitude and old world way of thinking? I am positive that they are there...I just have not seen them on my visits.

I sincerely believe that the bones of this land are beautiful though...and strong...and holistically speaking the ingredients are all there. I see so much potential in this country, I really, really do. I understand the poverty issue, sure. But there is no excuse for being sloppy, and no excuse for lack of original thinking; I believe, in the end that humans transcend. Maybe we haven't come to the end yet.... I suppose, with all this grappling, I want to know where is the vision? SHOW ME SOME VISION ECUADOR!


I am an aesthete. I care greatly about detail. I seek out beautiful things and can recognize them when I see them. With that said, I see so much beauty in this country. I want to see Ecuadorians doing the same.

B U D A P E S T, currently, for the past two days, relishing this beautiful landscape, and its people. After a week plus in Prague and scowering the terrain there, trying to understand its layout, and savouring the faire, I headed south on a night train to the "Pearl of the Danube". The city is enchanting, old, somewhat decrepit, but all the more real because of this observation. Snow falls, but nothing that a Hungarian bath won't cure, and all the more delightful in an outside pool - the snow lightly pelting your face as you relish the warm water from the inner earth, and watch the barely distingushable people speaking a plethera of languages through the steam. I am likeing this city the more I am here, and two days in, that is saying a lot. Tomorrow I head north to Vienna, and all that awaits my eyes there.

PRAHA - made it. Although cold and grey, this city is as charming as ever. Today marked the first real day of getting out of our panelaky flat in the 4th district, south of the Stare Mesto, and Linda's first day of Yoga class. Walking around where we are staying, with the snow lightly falling onto a backdrop of communist concrete apartment towers looming, gives one the impression of a cold war espionage thriller; it is authentic, and those are special moments.

Linda's aunt Eva, has been so very kind to us. She is letting us stay in her spare one bedroom apartment, showing us the lay of the land, and feeding us some very ethnic, and at that, very delicious Czech dishes.

Today still groggy from the thirteen hour flight, and nine hour time difference, I made it through the maze of suburbia communist apartment complexes via bus, metro (subway), and tram to the old town, and the little city or Mala Strana. Mala Strana is connected by the ancient, and touristy Charles Bridge or Karlov Most. I happened upon the Starbucks there, and despite a great urge to just keep walking, I caved and went to what I know, but where I found a clean bathroom, a delicious cup of coffee, and a warm soft chair to study my guide book (plus I got my US partner discount; score).

I spent some time walking around the Mala Strana, admiring the Baroque, Art Nouveau architecture, and visualizing where Mozart once strolled and Kafka later contracted TB (in what is now the US embassy).

Tomorrow promises to be more of the same, while Linda is in school, and until this weekend where chances are we'll take a road trip somewhere outside of the city with Linda's cousin Zdenik...tbc.

http://smeosky.blogspot.com/2008/10/timber-video.html

"The problem with america....are all these trees..."

Joyeux Noël

It's a very interesting time of year, I think. On the one hand, heart attacks are supposedly more frequent and people more annoying in general. But on the other hand, a time to review the year in the life of yourself and those close to you. To take stock and to tinker with your internal mechanisms a bit.

I still find it easy to fall in love with so much, so quickly. That there are many handsome things in this world that require nothing but a glance to appreciate. This excites me more and more and to that beauty I am devoted.

To all of you, a very Merry Christmas.

I am home again, sitting now in my corner cubicle (looking out over the glorious Home Depot) in south Seattle. It's a blistery fall afternoon and the birds have stopped singing for the year. With caffeine infused in my veins and a stomach full of mom's apple pie, I am now ready to recount the last days of the flight of the condor, man...


From Riobamba, I travelled west to hot and humid Guayaquil for a visit with the cousins and to visit once again this bustling port city of 2.5 million. I arrived to the new terminal terrestre, a tad confused and sweaty, having had to shed my sweater and coat earlier, on the 5 hour bus ride from the Andes. My cousin Pablo picked me up and away we went into the myriad of concrete and dirt compositions that is tropical Guayaquil. Gracious hosts as always, it was good to see my cousin Pablo Giovanni, his family wife Margot, and their kids Paula and Pablo again. I also had the opportunity to visit with my cousin Patricio, his woman Maria, and their daughter Daniella. Despite the family feud between my father and the rest of the condor clan of Ecuador, it was good to see these faces once again, and to try and understand their lives a bit more, and they mine.

It was good to see everyone, and to be interrogation by my young second cousins on my Spanish knowledge and American life; smart little snappers they are and so very curious. The Spanish family dynamic is an interesting one, where there seems to always be a cook or a maid on hand. It seems that the children have very little responsibility, however limited this insight may be.

The weather was decent- mostly overcast and cloudy after my first night's stay, and cooled off significantly for the duration. It can be blistery in Guayaquil, so it was good to escape that humid torture.

We toured around a bit but spent a lot of time in the new developed parts of the megatropolis. Despite having a rich local history with European settlement going back to 1500's, we spent a lot of time time in the San Marino Shopping center: a large, American fashioned, mega shopping mall. Apparently Ecuadorians, in this vivacious metropolis, love their T.G.I.F. and bowling. Ecuadorian adopted "development"?


It was during this segment of the visit that I began to ponder more over the asthetics and recent progress in Guayaquil and Ecuador as a whole. It seems that most examples of modern construction and design in this region disregard indigenous/colonial construction in favor of quick and easy processes of composition, .e.g. cement and cinder block squares. There seems to be very little imagination or intellect in this regard. It is disparaging that there seems to be such a disregard of this region's own striking history of line and form.


I do believe however, that the raw elements are all there and visible even to the casual traveller, in the small towns and back roads. I am sure that even most of these places are still unknown to me.

These are solely observations of a questioning mind - impressions from a second generation man, in a third world land.

I spent last night in Baños again after taking a little road trip into the Oriente, or the jungle region of Ecuador, with the 'ol man. The road from Riobamba to Baños is significantly longer now thanks in whole to the vulcan Tungurahua which erupted a few years back and closed a major highway. Now what used to be a mere 30 minute trip is now a dusty 2 hour voyage through all sorts of terrain. Evidence of this can be veiwed most impressively just west of Baños where mud flows of cinder and ash wiped out some homes, a very large portion of the road, and a giant plastic parrot (polly want a thermal protective suit?). This, as an unfortunate result, has created insanely long lines of overly aggressive autos privados, while lathargic road crews continue to reconstruct this busy portion of the Ecuadorian highway (I think they are learning as they go...or going at it with only a shovel and a burro).

My father, as a side note hates both taxi drivers and bus drivers of this wild land, frequently referring to them tenderly as ¨those fuckers¨. He at times remindes me of an old man protecting his green lawn from rowdy kids, although his lawn would be Ecuador, and the rowdy kids, well....

The trip from my father´s town, La Sultana de los Andes to Baños crosses the cool high páramos where the giant volcano Chimborazo looms large and dark (and very often clouded over) down through green pasture land inhabited by the brightly clothed indígina and their more attractive traditional adobe and wood homes. Once past Baños and further east, the land transforms into lush rain forest, which according to my Father used to be covered with colorful breeds of birds and butterflies. By freak chance it seems, we did see one such specter of his past, the gallo de peña - an orange and black bird which contrasted strikingly against the green of the surrounding jungle...and yes, I am sure that it does tastes like chicken, which would explain their absence.

We made our way to further into the interior to El Pailon del Diablo, a massive waterfall just outside Baños on the clear waters of the rio verde. The private, family run nature preserve that it comes to be on, is well cared for and free of the abuse and trash that would otherwise prevail in other non-monitored areas of this country. The falls looked delicious, enough so that I wanted to gulp them down (I was thirsty) and the ferociousness with which they plummeted was equally impressive. I wanted to jump in, alas I would perish (because my superman undies were at the launders). Unique in their own way, they were however by no means as great as other falls such as Yellowstone, Yosemite, or more than likely the gushing fountains of beer in Mazatlan during spring break.

We stopped for lunch at a small house, on the side of the small road, that follows a not so small but deep river canyon into the amazon basin. The restaurant was actually a trout farm run by husband and wife, who cooked and served the fish on the spot. If my father did not know this place from previous visits I would not even have thought twice about the small trail leading from the highway and passed on by - the insights of a local: priceless. Our fish were served with arroz con plantanos y juego de la piña. It was to say, in two supreme words, quite delicious.


On further we drove through the pre-jungle of this lower basin towards Puyo and to the small oil towns therein. The main streets of these towns are usually lined with run down cement homes, mongrel perros, gatos, and older adobe and clay tiled buildings. Usually imprinted on these cement structures are faded coca-cola signs or pilsner advertisements plastered on sparce, road facing walls. These are the signs that seem to define the "buy this, it will cure all your troubles" mentality of this very identity lacking land. The USA seems to be at the forefront that feeds this horse doo to the masses (China coming in at a close second). The small dark people with round faces and sharp angular noses seem happy enough however, despite their apparent poverty. Contrary to the lack of wealth in this rough and beautiful land there seems to be a unity and familiarity that these smiley people share in these roughneck towns that we, in more developed nations, seem to lack, are losing, or have lost (thanks Wal-Mart de Chifa).

Now back cruising the cobblestone streets of Riobamba, tomorrow I head to Guayaquil via bus and the warm humid lands of Ecuador´s largest city.