First National Classical Guitar Festival, Cuenca, Ecuador

Diane: The First National Classical Guitar Festival of Ecuador has been going strong all week. We have already seen two guitar concerts. The first concert was held in the Old Cathedral - the first time it had been open to the public in the many years since the restoration had started. Consequently it was very crowded. We got there almost an hour early and were lucky to secure seats. Most people had to stand.

All the chairs had been laid out on the floor. Including the chair for the performer! The first three rows were reserved for various dignitaries. And from 10 rows back, where I was sitting, I couldn't even see the performer's chair no matter how many directions I cocked my head or twisted my shoulders. Standing was starting to look quite appealing.

At the theatre at the Banco Central, where the Symphony Orchestra sometimes plays, we generally sit in the balcony. Up in the balcony in front of the first row, there is an additional row where people can stand and take pictures. Of course, people in the first row can't see around them, but that appears to be of little concern. What I found interesting is that the theatre is actually designed this way. Given this history, I was not surprised that recording equipment took precedence over the audience on that first night of the Guitar Festival. There were two video cameras to the right and left of the performer as well as one up above in a pulpit that all had outstanding views. I decided that the next guitar concert I attended would be in a traditional theatre. On the bright side, guitar is big here, the music was excellent, and I did have an excellent view of the promotional material provided by the sponsors.

We were the first to arrive at the auditorium at the University of Azuay on the fourth night of the Guitar Festival. The video camera folks, the sound folks, the television folks, and the interior decorators all arrived after us. As the stage began to fill with recording equipment, cables, and flowers, we changed seats several times and finally opted to sit in the front row a little off to the left, with a view between two sets of flowers. I think these may have been the only seats in the house with an unobstructed view. I must admit that with four microphones standing in front of the performer, even our view was a bit impaired. But not to worry, the sound quality was excellent.

On the fifth night of the Guitar Festival, Tom and I attempted to head over to the University of Cuenca Theatre. As we approached from the rear, the sting of tear gas filled our eyes. We changed direction and headed home. As an aside, I have finally read two newspaper articles about the protests that take place at this location every other day or so. They both discussed the heavy financial losses suffered by the local bus company, offered some opposing opinions on who the organizers were, but no thoughts on what their purpose might be.

I am quite impressed with the cultural amenities in Cuenca. We arrived during the political campaign season, when not much else was going on. Now the cultural season is in high swing. We've had a Film Festival followed by a Guitar Festival. Next week is some type of Dance & Drama Festival. Starting tomorrow, we move into the Christmas season, which appears to be mightily celebrated in Cuenca.

Musings on Migrations

Diane: About a year or two ago, I read a review of a book detailing humanity's largest migrations. In addition to being voluminous, it looked fascinating. Neither the Sarasota library nor the largest local bookstore had a copy, and apparently it was too new for them to figure out how to order it. During the Film Festival in Cuenca last week, they showed only one Ecuadorian film, "Traficombo". It was something of a documentary, using the words of Ecuadorian migrants and their families to show the many faces and effects of their migration. The film looked at the effect migration has had on money, family, and culture. Although they spoke clearly, I could not understand much of what was said. Without the historical background I might have gained reading a book about migrations or understanding the personal anecdotes from the film, I find myself musing about the migration that has been going on here for the last decade or two (I'm making up the timeframe, so if someone knows the real number, let me know).

At home, many people discuss, write commentary, and try to pass laws to protect U.S. borders and keep jobs for U.S citizens. We have a very exact set of rules that can result in detention and/or deportation. On the other side, there are those concerned with human rights abuses. They get legal representation for immigrants and publicly expose the privations they suffer. These folks discuss, write commentary, and try to pass laws to stop discrimination, hazardous work conditions, unsafe housing, illegal detentions, and hate crimes.

I haven't heard much about any of these issues here. I'm sure that's partly due to my limited time here and my limited comprehension of Spanish. But, from my observations, it seems that migration is simply framed differently. Much as there is a concern over the impact of U.S. military bases throughout South America, there is a concern here over the impact of U.S. and European cash.

According to Richard, head of the Abraham Lincoln Center, where we study Spanish, many of Ecuador's poor indigenous people have no hope of securing employment in Ecuador. They have faced extreme discrimination over the centuries and have finally taken matters into their own hands. They migrate - often illegally - to the United States, Spain, and Italy. They evidently live frugally on their earnings from the menial jobs they can obtain abroad and send anything remaining home. I know they continue to face discrimination in their new locations, but they persevere earning far more money than they would in Ecuador.

According to Richard, back in Ecuador, many of these families are now rich enough to construct grand homes, buy cars, and send their children to the finest private schools. They have become part of a nouveaux riche. They continue to experience discrimination here, but I'm sure the dynamic is changing now that they are rich. As a foreigner in Ecuador for a short time only, it is hard to really see this dynamic at work.

In Sarasota, my children have befriended other children who are being raised by their grandparents. I think this scenario is more common in Sarasota, because there are more grandparents there. Perhaps a parent died. More likely, parents are incapacitated for one reason or another. Sometimes there is a drug issue. In some cases there was child abuse or neglect. Sometimes divorce comes into play. Many of the children seem to do fine after their initial adjustments. Time will tell how true this is. However I have observed that it is a much larger adjustment for the grandparents and family members who are left to raise the children.

There is a family that lives inside the Abraham Lincoln Center. I would guess they live there to safeguard the property, when the school is closed, but I'm not sure. Although I am usually in Spanish class, there have been occasions for me to meet the grandmother and her young granddaughter who live there. Everyday, the grandmother picks up the young girl from school and brings her home. Last week, I saw them go off for a swim session. The parents of the little girl are in the United States working. They have been there for a couple of years and have come home to visit once.

I have also had some short conversations with students studying English at the Abraham Lincoln Center. A few of them have told me they are studying English so they can travel to the U.S. They want to visit family members there. I imagine some of the older students are hoping to get a job in the U.S. Learning a foreign language, especially one as difficult as English, is a large commitment to make in order to visit relatives or potentially help get a job.

I haven't had in-depth discussions concerning all of the familial and cultural adaptations that are occurring due to migration. But as with the grandparents raising their grandchildren in Sarasota, I see similar challenges and adjustments, even if I am only able to view them from the surface.

In addition to my internal musings, I have actually seen physical evidence of migration on three of our day-trips in the Cuenca area. On the Day of the Dead, Tom and I visited the cemetery. In the newer and more expensive section of the cemetery, there were large individual gravesites predominantly for family members of the nouveaux riche migrants.

And yesterday in Biblián, we saw large, new houses sitting vacant. Their owners are probably living and working in New York City. From the way people around here talk, I would say there are more Ecuadorians in New York City than in Cuenca (another made-up statistic; again feel free to correct me). We also saw a very large Western Union office in a very small town.

The third piece of physical evidence was in the small town of Turi. In addition to the great view of Cuenca, we saw a humongous building that had the look and feel of a palace. In reality it was a prosperous store selling Ecuadorian arts and crafts. I did not go inside, but I did find out that the owner worked in New York City as a dishwasher for 20 years. With the money he saved, he was able to put up this massive building. Now I have no way of verifying this, so this may just be gossip - you didn't hear it here.

Old Meets New in Biblián, Ecuador

Diane: Today our Spanish teacher from the Abraham Lincoln Center, Raúl, took us to the town of Biblián, home to a small sanctuary dedicated to the Virgin of the Dew (Santuario de la Virgen del Rocío). Years back, when the area was suffering a prolonged drought, the residents were able to survive by using water from especially heavy dews. They built a shrine right into the cliffside in honor of the Virgin of the Dew. It could be seen from great distances. Later a church made with stone from a local quarry was erected around the shrine.

In Biblián, I could see the town's indigenous roots with pieces of modernization projecting in many directions. For example, the first thing that captured everyone's attention as they entered the sanctuary was the neon sign hanging against the cliff directly above the altar. The virgin herself was so small that even after getting right up to the altar, I had to use binoculars to see any details. I couldn't see too clearly, but I believe she was holding a dark-skinned baby Jesus.

At the far end of the church, there were some letters of gratitude and plaques praising the virgin. In addition, there were locks of hair wrapped around the tacks that held up these letters. Leaving a lock of hair is an indigenous custom. The neon, of course, was a modern touch.

Another example of the modern jutting out from the traditional was the town itself. Fifteen years ago, it was composed of a few houses strung along the Pan-American Highway. Due to the large influx of rural compassions into the town over the last decade or so, Biblián now has several main streets. The buildings are constructed from modern-day concrete blocks. However, from the sanctuary, I could still see large fields being worked within the town.






Many garages have a car inside, but outside on the streets, there was almost no traffic. The cars are apparently status symbols, not used much to get around town. Calliope and TM joined us for this excursion, but unfortunately by the time we arrived, Calliope was suffering terribly from nausea, stomach cramps, and the constant need for a bathroom. Our search for a bathroom every ten minutes or so led us to an auto mechanic business, which sat directly across the street from a body shop. Neither of them were lacking for business. Evidently, the limited driving that does go on ends in a high rate of accidents.

Prominent in my recollection of the day, and also another example of the mix of old and new, was a parade that we stumbled upon as we walked up to the sanctuary. Various local schools were celebrating by showcasing exquisite clothing and dance forms from different regions of Ecuador. They played music and danced as they passed by.






There were only a few clusters of bystanders watching. The students' faces lit up, when they saw that some foreigners had taken an interest in their activities. Some of the participants received special treatment; I would guess that they were beauty pageant winners. They have beauty pageants here at the drop of a hat. Each holiday, each neighborhood, each school - each celebrate with a pageant.






The parade let the young people display their cultural pride. But they took some liberties. Raúl told us that some of the costumes were mixtures, using the skirts from one region and the hats from another. In addition, the parade did not exclude foreign influences. Toward the tail-end, we saw Mickey Mouse and a couple of characters from U.S television cartoons.

Diane and Tom are Celebrities in Cuenca

Diane: Tom and I are now officially part of the local scene; today our pictures were in "El Tiempo", one of Cuenca's daily newspapers. We can be seen on the font page as small color blurs in an off-register photo. And for those who think their eyes might be playing tricks on them, there is an enlarged black-and-white version on the third page of the front section. It can be clearly seen that Tom is sitting at the head of a long table with his right-hand-woman, appropriately, just to his right. The presenters and organizers are off to Tom's left in significantly less prominent positions.

Although there are about 15 people in the photograph, only 6 are listed in the caption, including us. Each of our names has only one misspelling. I think the newspaper felt that their spelling was better than ours or at least a solid compromise. Thomas in Spanish is Tomás; the newspaper opted for Tomas.

Now as we walk down the street, people stare at us as we pass. Of course, TM with his ski-goggles and blond hair has gotten stares and head-turns since the moment we arrived. Calliope has consistently complained about the large number of male strangers that approach her and in their best English comment "Bee-you-tee-fool Lay-dee". So, there is an outside chance that it has nothing to do with the blurry front-page picture of us and everything to do with the color of our skin, the tourist hats we wear to protect said skin.

So why were we in the paper? If you have to ask, then you've missed the whole point ;-), but I'll explain anyway. On the weekends I like to go someplace where I can listen to uninterrupted Spanish for an hour or two. This is primarily so that I can impress my Spanish teacher at the Abraham Lincoln Center, Raúl. When I speak and listen to a solid, weekend-block of English, I am inarticulate by Monday. On Mondays, Raúl must generally sit through my first-person, present-tense Spanish blubberings, punctuated by long pauses.

On the last few Sundays, I went to Mass. Not only wasn't I raised Catholic, but I am not religious. I have never regularly attended any religious services, so this has been quite the unexpected turn of events. However, the New Cathedral is a gorgeous building inside. The finished marble and towering ceilings and domes have a very calming effect on me. And to top it all off, there's a priest who spends about an hour speaking Spanish intending that every one of his constituents will understand what he is saying. Last Sunday, a bishop led a special service honoring the birth of the revered Catholic academician and educator, Hermano Miguel. Although I got a lot out of the 2 masses I attended, I was having trouble bringing myself to attend another one.

So, this past weekend, I chose a different alternative. Upon exiting the theatre Friday night, after a particularly fun film at the Film Festival, a young woman handed me a small piece of paper, the likes of which are usually reserved for advertising strip clubs or live music. In this instance, the small piece of paper was promoting a community event with clowns, video, and music to increase the local understanding of free trade issues and other topics which I could not translate. Those two factors - that piece of paper and a desire to avoid another mass - led Tom and I to seats at a long table under a beautiful, yet broken, stone bridge under the all-seeing eye of an "El Tiempo" photographer.

As a footnote, we listened to at least two hours of Spanish, almost all of which I understood. I liked the subject matter and the political slant as well. To top it all off, yesterday my Spanish blubberings were significantly improved over previous Mondays.

Student Demonstrations, Cuenca, Ecuador

Diane: Yesterday, on our way to the theatre, we witnessed 5 or 6 students stop a bus, order all the people off, and move it to block traffic. They seemed to do this without any guns or knives or fighting. Other than that, everything was quiet.

So what are the student's protesting? This is completely unclear. Two days ago, I saw some graffiti on the theatre walls about the TLC, which translates to Free Trade Treaty. Yesterday this had been painted over. And, today, there was new graffiti about CGP. I don't know what that is yet. Other than that, there have been no signs, no posters, no speeches, and no newspaper coverage.

Our Spanish teacher Raul explained that 2 days ago was a National Student Day celebration. Generally this day ends in student confrontation with the police. In addition, Ecuador's current President, Gutiérrez, promised that students would be eligible for bus discounts with a special student ID. To date, no ID cards have been issued, and now there is student discontent.

Michael, one of the English teachers at our school, who has lived here for over a year, says that this happens regularly. He feels that the primary motivation is that students don't want to do their school work. These protests are simply an excuse to skip class and go do something more exciting. To back up his viewpoint, Michael pointed out that there were virtually no student demonstrations on weekends or during school vacations, which I must admit does coincide with the times when there are no classes to skip!

Today, the protests near the theatre intensified. There was more rock-throwing and a lot more tear gas. We decided to skip this afternoon's films, after we felt the first hint of stinging in our lungs and eyes from the tear gas. We quickly backtracked until we were out of "smell's" way and spent the rest of the afternoon immersed in the internet.

Burning Tires in Cuenca, Ecuador

Diane: Last week on our way to Spanish class, TM and I encountered tires burning in the middle of an intersection about a block from our school. As a result, the police had blocked the road to vehicular traffic and we were tempted to walk in a street devoid of cars. Instead, we changed direction intending to approach the school from the other side. Bill, from the "English Bookstore And Cafe" spotted us first. He assured us that it was not violent and we could walk through safely. Indeed, many people were milling around the general area, talking quietly. Based on what was written on a long sheet staked across the street, this was a worker's strike directed at the government. For about an hour during my Spanish class, I could hear people chanting loudly. By early afternoon, when my class was over, the charred tires had been cleared away and traffic was flowing smoothly again - or as smoothly as it gets here.

It was deja vu the next day. The same intersection. More tires burning. Some chanting. I looked for coverage of the incident in the local papers, but I could only find news of demonstrations in Quito.

A few days later, on our way to the Film Festival, we saw more tires burning. This time they were burning in a major intersection across the river and only two blocks from the theatre. We stopped to watch from the other side of the river. There was a small tank-like vehicle, what people here call a trucutú. Within a couple of minutes, bystanders were throwing rocks at the trucutú. Then everyone was running away from the intersection with the trucutú in close pursuit. With prudence as our guide, we decided to walk along the peaceful cobblestone path that was significantly more than a stones throw across the river from the stone-throwers. From the pedestrian bridge just beyond the theatre, we could see the trucutú turn left, lob some tear gas in the general direction of the stone-throwers, and then continue on its way.

Since all the action seemed to be over, we proceeded to the Festival ticket booth but from around the back. There were a lot of students hanging around the theatre courtyard. Many had shirts wrapped around their heads as if in anticipation of a large amount of tear gas. But no one was selling tickets. Inside the theatre, they assured us that they would be showing the scheduled movie. Eventually, a woman walked out to the ticket booth. We left TM in the theatre lobby and went to buy tickets. Our exchange was interrupted by an agitated Film Festival staff member explaining something in Spanish that I did not follow. Although I had my money extended, the ticket seller seemed distracted. She just looked at me, but didn't take my money. Using my carefully honed observation skills, I looked up and could not help but notice a mob of young people running at top speed in our direction. The three of us fled to the theatre. The agitated staff member was already hurriedly putting a metal bar through the door handles so that no one could get in. When he saw who we were, he let us in, but no one else.

Well the show must go on. With no tickets sold, they decided to show the movie for free to those of us now barricaded inside the theatre lobby. Many people streamed into the theatre courtyard. But for us, the calm theatre beckoned. Even with many schedule changes, we had seen many excellent films over the course of the past week. Thus far my favorites had been "Hubo Una Vez Dos Veranos", "Kikujiro", and "The Weeping Camel". I was looking forward to this afternoon's film, "Los Muertos". As it turned out, this was possibly one of the worst films I have ever seen. It was both slow and coarse, highlighting the vulgar aspects of everyday life.

I was glad to escape the film and the theatre. However, once outside, we were confronted with a very different scene. There were now tires burning in front of the theatre. Next to the tires stood an abandoned city bus. There was graffiti painted on the ticket booth and across the exterior wall of the theatre. There was no traffic along the streets. Groups of students were huddled together making what Tom was sure were Molotov cocktails. The students were animated in their discussions. We figured it was time to get out of there.

Missing Blog Entries, WWW

Diane: As you may have noticed, this "family" blog is primarily composed of entries written by me, Diane. I just wanted to make sure no one reading about our journey got the mistaken impression that I am pretty much the only one posting entries. Oh no!

I see TM and Calliope writing feverishly, sometimes 2 or 3 times a day. It's part of our family's home schooling agreement that they compose journal entries containing a minimum of 1000 words at least 5 days a week. The objective here is to both improve their writing skills as well as to chronicle their trip. They have both colluded to go above and beyond the basic agreement and now write daily.

Tom, who could scribe a college-level history text, has chosen instead to write about our family's interpersonal dynamics. He is tracing the roots of these inter-relationships back to the time before TM and Calliope were born. He hopes to trace a trajectory into the future. We'll see if we can live up to it. His writing is hysterically funny and I can't keep from laughing out loud as I read it.

I know you're wondering why you haven't been afforded an opportunity to read these inspired pieces of commentary. You can now quit your wondering. The fact is that as soon as any of them posts an entry, I sneak in and delete it. There are actually 137 secretly-deleted entries. So, now you know.

NOT!

(Linda wrote in indicating an interest in our family dynamics. This entry is specifically directed at those of you who are jealous that our family gets along so well that we would voluntarily undertake this type of adventure. It is for those of you who have a child/grandchild/pet who always puts up a fight whenever asked to participate in anything with the word "family" in it, such as family-get-together or family-pow-wow (or family-meal for that matter). In fact, we get along just about the same as we did back home. Individually, we continue to have different and sometimes conflicting priorities. And I'm not having much success getting journal-writing to the top of anyone else's priority list.)

Cuy Celebration & Dance Competition, Ricaurte, Ecuador

Diane: We took a city bus to the outlying town of Ricaurte. They are at the tail end of a weeklong celebration of their patron saint, San Carlos, and today was the final day-long party. Shortly after we arrived, a parade carried a life-sized figure of San Carlos to his church on the main square. A band followed. The townspeople were the last to file into the church.

Ricaurte is renowned for its cuy, an Ecuadorian specialty that takes several days to prepare properly. Cuy means guinea pig. Yes those cute little cuddly pets are a favorite delicacy here.






Not surprisingly, today's staged festivities began with an hour-long tribute to cuy. One of the local authorities waxed eloquent for about 15 minutes on the linguistic roots of the word cuy. It was far more interesting, yet repulsive, to see the Ricaurte women (and occasional man) rotating the skinned and skewered critters over hot coals. Don't look at the next pictures, if you are easily grossed out.

A university theatre troupe followed. The tale they reenacted was simple. Their movements were lively. They involved their audience. And their costumes were colorful. The audience was charged up at the end of the show. The masks reminded me of a mask I made with Calliope for Halloween, when we still lived in Wayland. It had wild hair radiating out from the face.






The dance competition followed the theatre troupe with even more color. I caught some of them getting dressed and putting on make-up before the big event. They were both shy and attention seeking at the same time.






The audience spent quite a while waiting in the strong sun. Many bought umbrellas to provide shade. Tom claims that a woman in front of him with a white umbrella reflected so much sunlight onto his face that his SPF 45 sunblock did not provide adequate protection. Some people had climbed to the top of a basketball backboard to get a better view of the upcoming dances. To my non-Ecuadorian eyes, the faces and dress of the audience members provided sharp contrast to one another. Standing near me was a woman with her hair in braids wearing a lace shirt and baseball cap. An older man with wrinkles carved in his face wore a brand new white sweatshirt with characters from US cartoons. A woman in jeans and a striped cotton shirt carting a large video camera. Some kids were dressed up in their Sunday best. Indigenous woman interspersed in the crowd provided color with their woven shawls and bright red and blue skirts.

And finally came the dancing. During the overture, each group danced into the square individually and then all stood lined up one next to the other. Twenty minutes later, when the last group had danced out, they were looking hot, bored, and fidgety.

The colorful flowing skirts of the women whipped up a vibrant mass of color as they swirled. The men were very dramatic in their furry chaps and with their big drums.






Each group provided their own music representative of a particular region. The music blared from the large speakers set by the stage. But to my ears, all of it sounded the same. At one point there was a mix-up and obvious consternation amongst those performing. Once all the fuss was over, I had to laugh. The corrected music seemed to have the exact same beat, rhythm, and instruments with only a difference in the melody.

Cuenca International Film Festival

Diane: There have been posters up all over town advertising the 3rd International Film Festival. The poster shows a woman with long black hair and lots of makeup in front of a brick building. I don't know about you, but that really makes me want to attend the festival ;-). Or perhaps such a scene really is representative of the types of films to be shown. No matter. I want to improve my Spanish, and a festival that surely will include Latin American films seems like just the ticket.

Although there are lots of posters up, evidently there are no schedules or programs available. The tourist office didn't have any. The Festival box office did not open until the first event. The municipal office didn't have any. So what's a movie lover to do? Go to the inaugural event, of course.

After talking with numerous people, it would seem that most Cuencans don't like the movies. But, I think they do like inaugurations, because the inauguration filled the large theatre. The mayor spoke. The head of the University spoke. The ambassador from Israel came down from Quito to speak. This last item was a good thing, because the opening film, Kadosh, was an Israeli film about a dysfunctional part of Judaism. I'm sure a lot of Cuencans came away with some very warped views of what Israeli life is like. If you didn't know better, Kadosh would lead you to believe that most daily life in Israel revolves around prayer; in a big Israeli city, there might be a secular fringe out there. To add to this bizarre viewpoint, the rabbi in this dysfunctional community insisted on an interpretation of Judaism with an extreme anti-woman bias. The movie itself was very slow-paced, but I didn't notice anybody walk out in the middle. Perhaps the audience was too polite.

Even at the inaugural event, there were no movie schedules. They did have a beautiful program guide. But, nobody could tell us what would be playing tomorrow. There are many things that you can get away with when organizing a festival, but not providing a schedule is not one of them. We heard the Festival may be in big-time debt. My theory is that they ran out of money and are waiting for some box-office revenue to pay the printer. The program guide describes films from Argentinia, Chile, Mexico, and even one from Ecuador, so I am looking forward to a smorgasborg of Spanish dialects over the course of the next week.

History of Medicine Museum, Cuenca, Ecuador

Diane: Why does Cuenca have a History of Medicine Museum? I don't think there were any great medical discoveries made here. Nor do I believe that the medical school is world-renowned. However, the museum is colocated with the medical school faculty and that should have given me a clue.

The primary residents of the museum are pieces of medical equipment, some dating back as far as 100 years, maybe more. Taking up less space, but nevertheless displayed quite prominently are the various belongings such as desks, framed degrees, doctor bags, business correspondence, and stethoscopes of some of the medical school faculty. It might be something akin to "George Washington slept here". Or perhaps just, "I am important so make a museum about me."

The first piece of equipment looked like an extraterrestrial landing platform or maybe some kind of orbiting pod.

Some items on display definitely made me ecstatic NOT to have been alive during their use. For example, an old operating table looked very uncomfortable.






There were some dental instruments from the 1930's and 1940's, supposedly from a time before there were dentists. I'm pretty sure we had dentists in the United States during that period, but perhaps not here in Ecuador.






They even had a lot of old medicine exhibited in glass cases. Of course, now the safety experts tell us to throw away all our old medicine after a year or so.

There were old xray machines, inhalers, respirometers, electric stills (usesd to produce distilled water), and artificial legs. They had an ether machine on display. One ominous machine was labeled "Euipment for Nerve Stimulation" (but in Spanish of course). There were many mundane gadgets that looked identical to those in use today, such as blood pressure monitors or the overhead light used in operating rooms. And then again, there were some machines whose uses I simply counldn't fathom. The most disturbing exhibit contained two somewhat preserved dead people with no explanation as to why they were there.

I hadn't been there long, when I found myself thinking about the Computer Museum in Boston. When it first opened, there were two packed floors of obsolete computer equipment. There must have been a few people who just couldn't get rid of all those expensive and now relatively useless pieces of history. And now there's the Spy Museum in Washington DC. It's chock full of old spy gear, a lot of it from the Cold War era. I know I'd have trouble discarding what was once top-of-the-line spy equipment. So, why not make a museum out of it?

Both the Computer Museum and the Spy Museum used old hardware to tell the history of their respective specialties. Sadly, funds are probably lacking to do the same here at the History of Medicine Museum in Cuenca. This museum did not actually provide any timelines or historical perspectives or contexts. Instead, most items are simply positioned, labeled, and dated.

In any event, if you need some stock photos of old medical equipment, I can probably help you out.

Ecological Ruminations, Cuenca, Ecuador

Diane: Yesterday, in addition to learning the results of the U.S. elections, TM and I went over to the municipal planetarium to watch a movie. It was presented free of charge by a local ecology foundation. It was animated with pastel-like drawings that merged into one another - a nice effect that I'd like to try. They projected the film onto the interior of the rounded roof of the planetarium and were able to display two running at the same time - another nice effect. This, of course, reminded me of my Mom's house, where she has had up to 4 screens next to each other running at the same time.

The film, entitled "El Hombre que Plantaba Árboles", chronicled the life of a man who single-handedly transformed a desert-like landscape into beautiful and bountiful woodlands with towering trees. I don't know if it was supposed to be a true story or even if it could be a true story. At home, I don't think a mature forest could grow in such a short timespan. Perhaps, here in Ecuador, where nutrient-laden volcanic deposits have enriched the soil, a full-blown forest could grow over the course of 50 years.

The reality here is that many verdant mountainsides have been plundered for firewood, especially in times of severe fuel shortages. Perhaps this explains why the hillsides between here and Quito look so desolate in one area and full of dense green foliage over the next hill. We visited El Cajas about a month ago, the nearest National Park to Cuenca. In private areas adjacent to the park, people have planted massive pine tree farms. They are just babies right now, but I'm sure as these farms mature, they will have a significant ecological impact, especially since they are not native to the area.






El Cajas was spared total deforestation over the years due to its difficult terrain, inaccessability, and nasty daily weather.






Even though El Cajas is now protected, just before Christmas, many people collect mosses and lichens there to sell in town. Moss is the traditional material used to decorate the family creche. Now, these mosses are endangered.

In Mourning The Day After

Diane; We spent about an hour trying to figure out who had won the U.S. elections - Bush or Kerry. Our downstairs neighbors weren't home, so we couldn't ask them to turn on their TV and find out. TM, Calliope, and I ventured out to determine who the next President of the United States would be. As it was Cuencan Independence Day, there weren't many shops open. Those that were open and that had their televisions going, were not watching international news. Newspapers aren't sold in stores here, but rather on street corners. Small vendors pop up in the morning selling one newspaper and then another in the afternoon. Of course, the racey tabloid is sold all day. But there were no small street corner vendors to be seen.

Political-Diatribe-Aside: Finally, we happened upon an internet cafe. Within ten minutes we were all despondent. Kerry had only lost by a small margin, but it was mind-boggling that so many UnitedStatesians had voted for Bush. They had decided to turn a blind eye to an administration that is stifling free speech and dissent; that is indiscriminately killing thousands of Iraqis (collateral damage), while large oil companies turn a profit; that is putting economic policies in place to leave the poor at home more destitute and the CEOs of large corporations swimming in money; that is letting many of the jobs in booming, non-polluting industries flee to other countries; that is opening up our country's last great open areas to oil and natural gas development; that is gutting the various federal agencies that play watchdog over our environment and our civil rights; and that, overall, is sending the U.S. government spiraling into debt to fund dangerous initiatives that make the world a much more dangerous place for me, my family, my neighbors, and most Westerners in general.

Here we have an unrepentant administration engaged in out-of-control killing and destruction around the world, a scenario that somehow results in profits for large corporations. And yet these voters just ignored it all. And, why? The political scientists haven't sorted it all out yet, but it would seem that it's more important to these voters that gays don't get married and that women don't have reproductive control over their lives. Now that is what I call moral decay in the U.S. heartland.
End-of-Political-Diatribe

My Mom had major surgery today. I feel bad for not being there with her, but I keep reminding myself that she does have my Dad, Trey, Hilda, and a huge array of friends to call on, if she needs anything. TM had also wanted to be back in Sarasota to watch the elections with best friend Paul, who had campaigned hard for John Kerry and Jan Schneider, both of whom lost. After spending quality time with her grandparents in the Galapagos, even Calliope was fending off a bad case of home-sickness. Although I don't know whether thoughts of home were wreaking havoc with Tom, I will note that Tom did not leave the apartment for about 5 days after returning from our Baños/Quito/Galapagos/Salinas excursion.

We moped around the apartment for most of the rest of the day. Fortunately, we had acquired some excellent reading material while in the Galapagos, so we were able to keep our minds otherwise distracted.

Day of the Dead in Cuenca, Ecuador

Diane: "Día De Los Difuntos" as it is known here, is a celebration for the dead. Family members gather at the gravesite, tell stories, share a meal, and generally have a good time. Bringing flowers, food, and family to the cemetery makes sure that the dead ones will find their way back to where they belong and not bother any living people. It appears to be a bit of bribery.

Accustomed as I am to grassy U.S. cemeteries, entering Cuenca's main cemetary took me back a bit with its massive structures all around.






As we turned the corner, we got a better view of the individual sites. Each site is numbered. Most have a window along the front. Some have security precautions, such as metal bars to help deter vandalism. Vandalism does not appear to be a big problem here; I saw no signs of grafitti or broken ornamentation.

There were, however, two floors. Stairs were provided to get to the second floor. There is a premium on space here. So, after a certain amount of time - 10 or 15 years - the body is cremated and moved to the upper floor. There are some exceptions, where people buy a space in perpetuity.






This place was huge.

Our Spanish teacher at the Abraham Lincoln Center, Raúl, brought us to the cemetery today to give us some cultural insights into today's celebration. An added bonus for me was being surrounded by fresh and colorful flowers.






There are many different styles of graves at the main cemetery in Cuenca. You can see how styles have changed over the years. In the oldest part of the cemetary, we saw a small tombstone that honored someone who died at the ripe age of 130. I don't believe everything I read, even when it's on a tombstone.






A more expensive part of the newer area of the cemetery still gives each person their own chunk of land. The evening leading up to the Day of the Dead is a busy time, with family members bringing fresh flowers and cleaning supplies to spruce up their area.










Some wealthy and/or famous Cuencan families have their own separate buildings. Even larger buildings are dedicated to various professions and/or unions.






Some people use unique iconography on their sites, to express their life's passions or their vocation.

The customs involving families gathering to share food with their dearly departed are falling into disuse here in Cuenca. Raúl says that it is still alive and kicking in the surrounding indigenous communities. We did see some examples of this in the areas of the cemetery that are popular with indigenous people.


















I'm so sad that both TM and Calliope decided not to come. Calliope had already visited the cemetery once before. TM didn't feel like walking. They both missed such a profusion of flowers and that wonderful holiday feeling. Maybe if they look at the pictures enough, they will build memories of having joined us for the outing ;-).