Day 2.1: Hacienda Pinsaqui. And Horses!

Otavalo market was a lesson in variety.  I saw one wizened woman crouched in a doorway, proferring a live guinea pig (they are a staple meat there, called cuy) by the neck.  The unfortunate brown creature hung from her fist with dull eyes, resigned to its fate.  Around a corner was this poster (left).  Yes, it is an announcement for an international conference on the commercial production of guinea pigs.  I was most amused by the long list of "Dr.'s" listed as speakers -- I would love to say I had a doctorate in guinea pig farming.  Alas, I never did get to see a guinea pig ranch -- perhaps their cutting horses are tabby cats!

The landscape had changed dramatically since leaving Quito. In the environs of the city, concrete houses were crammed into every available space. Now, the landscape had begun to open around Otavalo, nestled next to a lake and the volcanic presence of Imbabura.

Quito:

Looking toward Imbabura and the town of Otavalo:

Up to now, human development has oft resembled a war zone, no patch of land untouched by hard-scrabble subsistence living. Half-finished, crude buildings of cinderblocks with untrimmed rebar protruding six feet into the air haunt the landscape. Cattle are tethered by their horns to metal stakes hammered into the ground to forage on stubble and ribby dogs slink around corners.

So it's a blow to pull off the PanAmerican Highway into green lawns, hydrangeas, and an exquisitely maintained 18th century hacienda (ranch). It sprawls long and low, seemingly going on forever. I am spun back and forth between guilt and wonder. Heavy oak doors are painted a deep, rich blue and our room key looks like it unlocks someone's dungeon cell.

And it's finally time to meet the horses! I am about to burst from excitement as we change and then hustle down the path to the designated paddock. They are already awaiting us and watch curiously as we are briefed on the rules.

 

I am introduced to Capuli, a dark bay youngster (only 5 years old) with a gentle face and small fuzzy ears. He is mostly Criollo, which is the native breed of tough little horses who work at South America's extremes, and he has a little Spanish horse thrown in somewhere. He is also best friends with Tostado, who our guide Gaspar will be riding, which means that I must bend to the will of the horses and stay up front.  It's hard to take a picture of a horse when you are standing uphill, so here's the little guy with some crazy camera distortion!

Mum was matched up with a sturdy little roan named Antares (yes, after my favourite star!).  He was an excellent horse, always taking care of his person with patient experience.  Doesn't she look excited (apparently dorky grins of glee do not run in the family)!?

And Anna, the lovely Finnish girl who made up the third member of our group, started out with Gitano, who completed the colour spectrum with his white coat (although we later learned he loved to turn himself brown with cowpies and mud).  And yes, she thwarted the Helmet Nazi and wore a hat!!  The Finns are brave and hardy souls...  Doesn't Gitano look excited too!?

At last, it was time to RIDE!!!

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Day 2: The Faces of Otavalo

The Otavalo market is the largest in South America and it's where we ended up after about two hours of driving north of Quito on Saturday. A large part of the market is just the same mass produced stuff repeated about 400 times for silly tourists, but along the outer edge you see the food stalls that the locals frequent. Most interesting to me was watching people, as per usual.

In Ecuador, you generally have two ethnicities: (1) the indigenous people and (2) mestizos, who are of mixed indigenous and Spanish descent. Most indigenous folks maintain the traditional dress of their culture. I will let their faces speak for themselves.

These women are tiny -- they came up to about my hip bone.  Some older women were begging for coins with plastic bowls.  Many people in Ecuador are subsistence farmers, scratching a living out of the land as best they can.  As in many places where poverty abounds, women do much of the hard labour here, carrying massive bundles in a piece of cloth tied around their torsos.

 
Tables were covered in every kind of fruit and vegetable you could imagine.  And many I couldn't.  Here, our guide, Gaspar, haggles for a bag of large beans.

Chicken anyone?  Another interesting phenomenon was the sale of pork -- pigs were roasted whole and then presented in varying poses, often with celery or carrots stuck in their ears and mouths.  Sometimes, they even shared a macabre smile.

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I Must Interject...

Because today, I am very happy and very very sad.

Very happy because the saddle fitter worked on Solo's saddles for two hours yesterday and they feel better.  We also jump schooled tonight and I actually remembered to use David's tips from our last jumping lesson and Solo jumped very well. 

Very very sad because yesterday, our BO's lovely young Thoroughbred, Ben, colicked and went into the clinic in a lot of pain. Early yesterday evening, he was put down. I had a feeling he wouldn't be coming back when I saw him yesterday; I stopped next to my truck, turned around, and walked up the hill to rub his face and give him a pat before he left. Now I'm glad I did. We will miss his charming face and curious inquiries into every barn activity. At only 4.5 years old, he was bursting with potential and enthusiasm and had an excellent mind for work and life.

Go out and hug all your ponies -- I am constantly reminded that each day with our special partners is a wonderful gift and not a single one of those days is a guarantee. Cherish every minute and take the time to just enjoy their friendship. Even the toughest athletes among them are such fragile creatures when the ugly colic monster rears its head. All we can do is try to stuff ourselves so full of their love that it will carry us through...

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Day 1: Arrival!

*cue dramatic opening music*

We left Miami about half past four on Friday the 3rd and hopped across the gulf and the isthmus of Panama to curl south into Quito.

Long river deltas reach silt fingers into the Gulf beyond Miami and clouds hover over salty marsh systems. Before we got to Panama, though, the sun set in a blaze of fire over the wing and I didn't get to spy on that skinny little country from above.

Quito welcomed us around 7:30 pm (Ecuador is on Central US time); a long string of lights nestled between two strings of mountains. First impressions: I am a pale giant. And the first thing I see as I step of the plane is a person wearing a pair of pale blue crocs. It appears tastelessness and a penchant for ugly shoes is a global phenomenon.

Gloria meets us after we pass through customs and fills us in on life in Quito, the capital city which is her home. Traffic is typical of Latin America; signs are merely for decorative purposes and horns are used more often than brake pedals. "Passing lane" means any lane into which your vehicle will fit, whether or not you can actually see oncoming trucks. There are trams and buses at $0.25 a fare, but not enough to carry the bulging population with no room to expand within the narrow valley.

Gloria tells us that there are no jobs here in Ecuador and many have chosen to go to Spain to work. Children stayed behind, living with relatives or even on their own as parents struggled to make a living an ocean away. However, the European markets have fallen as well, especially in construction, and now there is no work there either. The government of Ecuador has offered incentives for workers to return home, allowing them to bring any goods they have acquired, including vehicles, and many are cashing in on this offer.

Our van finally (and somehow safely!) arrives at Cafe Cultura, our hotel nestled in a garden in Old Town, a section of Quito that dates back to the 16th century. As the gates are unlocked and we walk in, I stagger back with mouth open. I am sure I heard the porter giggle as I breathe, "Holy crap," unable to contain myself.  Everything is beautiful.  It is all frescoes and creaking wood floors and balconies and a Taj Majal room with gauzy curtains and a claw-foot tub and candlelight.  We eat dinner in a candlelit hush, feeling like we are in a church, afraid to breathe too loudly and break the spell.

The white doors lead to the library, where lilies set in front of a fireplace. The candlelit angel fresco flew above the fireplace in the dining room.

Our room:

Tomorrow:  we transfer to Otavalo and the adventure truly begins!!

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The Big Tease

I am home!  I have not seen Solo yet, sigh.  But reports note that he is fine, if a bit sad.  I have downloaded the pictures from the past nine days.  Now to work on sorting & editing & recounting!  To keep you salivating until then....  (I shouldn't post my favourite picture first, but I love it too much not to)

This is me & Sam in Cotopaxi National Park, south of Quito.  Cotopaxi is the jaw-dropping volcano you see behind us.  Yes, it is real, & yes, it is active.  We were not far from the lower slopes, my little camera just sucked at metering in contrast situations. 

You can climb the volcano if you want.  Except you have to start at midnight & summit by sunrise so you are off the ice by 10 am.  Because then the ice bridges start to get brittle in the sun & you die.

But other than that...oh, & the fact that the summit is at 5,897 m (19,347 ft) & I couldn't even walk uphill for ten steps at 4000 m after a week of acclimatization...it's easy as pie!

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