I’ve mentioned my roommate Javier a few times in the past. He’s one of my favorite roommates and brings a lot of peace, love, and knowledge about the Lord. He also speaks slow so I can understand a lot of what he’s saying. He’s from a little village called Guantalo in the Andes Mountains. This was our destination for Nov. 1-3.
5 of us piled into the standard transportation for trips like this, Mateo’s car, and off we went. We were in the car for about 2 hours before we hit the actual mountain, then it was just man-terrain rocky road after that. We passed the beautiful landscape and the occasional sheep or cow header. After 2 more hours we finally arrived. It was funny because we’re on this mountain road, there’s no signs, everything looks the same, and then BOOM…you’re there. That was the first of many times that I smiled and thought to myself, ‘you wouldn’t find this in the States.’
We ate dinner at Javier’s sister's house. The whole idea of someone living in the middle of nowhere takes on a different meaning when you’re in a mountain village in a third world country. We couldn’t quite get all the way there and stopped at a cow pasture at dusk. We did our best not to step in cow, donkey, or sheep crap and then we made it. In the main room was a giant table filled with all kinds of food, but there was something a little different. On one of the corners there was a little Ecuadorian delicacy: cui (guinea pig). It was nice and charred and missing the head. ‘Huh,’ I thought, ‘you wouldn’t find that in the States.’
You would find rooms with electricity in the States, but not here. Here’s to candlelit dinners eating my first guinea pig. Here’s also to the kids who didn’t quite get the idea that you shouldn’t bump the table with one candle, and to the kids who cough all over the food. Then they grab a piece of cheese, take a bite, and put it back. When Javier’s sister told me how great the cheese was and passed me the bowl; I had to lie. I said I didn’t like cheese….I felt terrible afterwards, but it was a matter of health. When we were leaving we were informed that Mateo’s car was the first car to ever make it that close to her house. The first car…it’s 2009.
After the one of a kind meal we made our way back to Javier’s cousin who was hosting us that night. We were greeted with a little homemade moonshine. I always think my Spanish is better after I’ve been drinking; I’m sure it’s not. Mateo and myself took several shots with the locals before stumbling upstairs to our beds. I fell asleep under 4 blankets and a bed as hard as the liquor I had just drank. I woke up at 4:30 a.m. freezing. Where the hell am I? I toughed it out until about 8, got up, and met a little Ecadorian kid with a high voice. Turns out he’s some of kind of star singer down here. We made our way to the outhouse, washed up a little bit in the local well, ate some berries off of a tree, and hopped a fence to get to the backyard….and by backyard I mean cow pasture. Javier’s cousin was doing the morning milking for breakfast. I was able to warm up in the sun and then it was back inside for breakfast: rice (always), chicken, and coffee with freshly ‘squeezed’ milk. Here’s the thing though; I’m drinking this milk and I come across something a little chewy, a little something that you wouldn’t find in your average milk in the States: skin. Apparently this is common of fresh milk, but I didn't see it coming. I spit it out, did a little head nod with a smile, and finished my meal.
We played soccer the rest of the day and attended Mass in the local cemetery. I slept better that night. Maybe it was because I doubled the amount of blankets from the night before and I was exhausted from chasing around 13 year olds who dominate in soccer.
The last day we went to a place where I was happy to say that I wouldn’t find in the States. It’s a place called Quilotoa, and it’s a crater filled with rain water. It was beautiful. We hiked down to the lake itself which took about 30 min. downhill. When we arrived we all jumped into the lake which had to be a few degrees above freezing. I didn’t last long. Afterwards we made the long trek up which took all the energy I had. We made our way to Mateo’s car for the final trip home, but this time we were plus 2 more. 7 people, 4 hours, bumpy, windy roads…rough.
Although there were several things about this trip that were a bit different, it was probably the best weekend of my time down here. The people were loving and hospitable and the experience memorable. I’m glad I was able to experience the moments where I would smile and realize I’m not in the States, and finally, experience my best Day of the Dead.
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