A City Built on Blood

"If there is one element which courses through the city's arteries, it is blood. The blood of the Indians defeated and enslaved then decimated by diseases; blood on the hands of the Conquistadors who fought over their new-found lands; blood stains from the nineteenth century battles between liberals and conservatives; and blood in the churches. " - Dominic Hamilton

Ever since Cameron sent me this article, I have been contemplating this idea that the city is built on blood. My Spanish teacher, Fanny, informed me that when they built the plaza de San francisco, the blood of the slaughtered animals was used as mortar for the stones. Today in La Iglesia Guápulo, I thought of how this very ornate church was built by the hands of salves, how the gold was most likely plundered from the incas. I marveled in sort of a disgusted wonder at the emaciated saint of penitence, the weird enormous crowns on the virgin mother, and the gold robes the priests wore. How did this breed of Christianity evlove from Jesus overturning the tables in the emples renouncing greed, opulence, and wealth? Then again, how did modern protestantism evolve from love your neighbor as yourself? As I looked at the bloodiest Christ on the cross yet, I really took in the blood dripping from the crown of thorns, his knees, the nails in his hands and feet, the wound in his side, and I remembered Hamilton´s words, "Christ suffered for you, say the Catholics in Europe. But in the New World they said Christ suffered like you: whipped and beaten and treated like a dog. But He was saved. Just as you will be; just as soon as we've worked you to death." All of this makes me feel a little funny about my affection for colonial architecture.

Read Everything is Illuminated- It´s good.

A few days ago I finished Everthing is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. This book is terrific in the same way Middlesex is terrific. It spans so much time and history leaving you to question what occurred in history and what in the author´s imagination. Being a second language learner right now, I felt deep affection for Jonathan´s interpreter Alex who makes beatiful mistakes such as calling his grandfather retarded when he means retired. Alex co-author´s the book, and the story of his present life in the Ukraine unfolds alongside the story of Jonathan´s family´s history before the holocaust. The movie is coming out soon and looks high quality, but the book is really worth the read. On a side note, it took me a while to get into it, so stick with it if it doesn´t do it for you right away.

Salsa Cristian

"Si el espiritu de dio se muevan me
yo danco como David.
Santo, santo, santo dicen los querabines
Santo, santo, santo es el señor jehovah
santo, santo, santo al dios que nos redime
porque nuestro dios es santo y la tierra llena de su gloria esta"

I spent the morning of Spanish class listening to Christian salsa and translating. This became very interesting as my buddhist husband refused to participate, and a Japanese woman, raised in a buddhist family, who knew nothing about Christianity became very confused by the word "redeem." I found myself in Spanish trying to explain the idea of heaven and hell, sin, redemption, and christ dying for your sins. I couldn´t help but think of David Sedaris explaining in broken french "He go on two sticks to your father." By the end at least she understood why there is man bleeding on a cross all over Quito. Cameron had long since vacated the salsa scene to study Spanish grammar with his teacher, which was lucky as the music was followed by a discussion of marriage customs in our three respective countries, which led to my teacher once again questioning me about my views on gay marriage, although it has been well established that we disagree. I am happy this week to have a new teacher who is a good old fashioned catholic and doesn´t feel the need to save me. Vocabulary from the lesson included:
redimirse- redeem
cielo- heaven
infierno- hell
pecados- sins
querebines- the highest form of an angel, higher than an angel or arcangel- my teacher told me one querebin can kill seven million people. Wow. Thats my kind of angel.
It is hard to be tolerant of beliefs that preclude tolerance, and here lies my greatest criticism of evangelist Christianity.

minnie

I thought her name was MiMi, but as it turns out she is actually Minnie, with a brother Mickey and a friend Bimbo downstairs, and her son Ube next door. All came to visit yesterday resulting in an interesting symphony of cat calls.

mini
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

mini
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

World Press Photo Exhibit

There is so much suffereing in the world, and yet beauty in the face of this. Looking at photographs of an Iraqi family terrified as American soldiers searched their house, another of a suspected terrorist with a tag duct taped to his head describing his "offense", others of American soldiers burned to disfigurement, missing limbs, staring through bullet ridden glass (bullets which found homes in eight of his compatriots), i flet deep anger at my country for causing this suffering unnecessarily- why? Looking at pictures of the George Busch election, which reflected a white well dressed aspect of America, that most well known, i felt shame. We, as a country chose him. It was in the end the pictures from the Tsunami aftermath that affected me the most. I felt in a way that couldn't at the time of the disaster. So much loss. I thought of Whitney, my most tender hearted friend, and understand her fervent need to do something in the days following the new reports of the Tsunami. We were very fortunate to see this exhibit, as it was amazing, and as it was only in the U.S. for a very brief time in New York. Check out the photos here:

World Press Photo Exhibit

La Virgin del Panacillo

DSCN2055
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

We finally went up the hill (el Panacillo- little bread loaf)to see my virgin. She was everything I wanted. She is so beautiful with her features more human than all those overly white sweet conquest paintings of Mary (although I like those, too, especially when she wears a crown of stars). Chickzilla has been confused by this love of mine for Mary, and as we gazed up at this big metal statue of her with the Earth beneath her feet i tried to explain. Mary is the mother of us all, and in my earth loving ways I can relate to this- it is a little bit of European paganism that snuck into catholocism. The god of my upbringing was harsh and sent people to hell. Jesus was supposed to change all that, but I don´t see it in modern protestantism. I love the thought of all these people holding a nurturing mother so close to their hearts, especially here in the old town where the machismo seems to hold many men I interact with from experiencing themselves. So, I´m down with the virgin mother (although i doubt she was really a virgin) and I´m glad she looks over Quito.

Genesis, Hija de Washington.

Genesis
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

I can´t really understand her at all, and she answers si to everything I say, but we have become good friends none the less. We mutually look forward to our time playing during la pausa durante clases de espanol.

Quito from the telefederiQo

DSCN1897
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

Thanks to John, the spelling is now correct. We went up there with Wendy and Stephen and enjoyed an incredible view.

Papas

DSCN1760
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

Octavalo Market

La gatita Mi Mi

We are now living in the home of three women: a divorced mother, her 25 year old daughter, and the Queen of the house, black cat Mi Mi. She is very small, and at first I was sure she was a kitten, but she is more than 10 years old and a mother three times over. She follows us out onto the terrace that overlooks the city, and often sits in the window with the chicken wire screen, posing in front of the backdrop of La Iglesia Angelica. I have yet to make her purr. She drinks out of a silver goblet placed on the dining room table and yells most of the time for food. She and I battle often over the chair in the kitchen where we both like to roost and chat with La señora while she cooks, but she has started to let me relocate her from chair to lap.

el reina de la casa
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

mas de 30 niños

In my do-gooder way I wanted to volunteer. And in my self preservationist way i backed out today (although i had my reasons: lack of sleep, interview for a long-term volunteer position with housing and food). I will return tomorrow with a plan to prevent me from being trapped in a room smaller than my bedroom in Pescadero with the door locked and windows shut, sweating profusely, with more than 30 kindergartens screaming, jumping, hugging, hitting, squirming, and holding tight to my hand begging with my name for individual attention which I so whole heartedly wanted to give and just couldn´t for need of damage control. Upon arrival, after an advnturesome bus ride, I entered a busy concrete court yard with children of all ages playing. A band of 8 year old boys in school uniforms began calling me Karen, then grabbed me and told me they had a pistol. They informed everyone that they were taking the American hostage-as they guided me to the office. on the way children chanted "Hola, hola" in unison. When i informed them that my name was not karen, but Katie, the chorus "Kati (without the e)" filled the air. Finally they ushered me into the office and shut the door behind me, but then a small dirty hand opened it, snuck in, and grabbed my shirt. He just looked up at me for a while after i asked "¿Como te llamas?", and then was shooed outside. As the director introduced me to the people working there, a bell rang and the children were quite literally herded into rooms by age. I think they were supposed to have a lesson. I was assigned to help with the kinders, where the children spent thier time tracing hands and coloring pages from coloring books with a random and meager selection of crayons, singing, tearing up said paper and throwing it around the room, sitting on friends, making fun of adults, desperately seeking approval from adults, breaking crayons, eating crayons, and laying on the floor. The woman who was in charge of this group was largely ignored, and seemed to have given up long ago. Another woman got them to sing some, but the problem of that many little squirming bodies in such a small space is very hard to rectify. My poor Spanish, white skin, and brand new status made me little help. Today I am going to buy a decent selction of children´s books, and tomorrow i will take children out of that room in small groups- this i can do- and i do want to follow through with helping out, but it is hard to feel of any use in a holding pen. Maybe it was worth it for the monent when they were released, and i was able to have a conversation with two toddlers in the yard who pulled at their dresses and sucked out warermelon seeds as we talked.

Looking for a School

We spent yesterday hunting for the right Spanish language school- we settled on the school with the worst materials, nicest people, best volunteer opportunities, and most interesting location. Many of the other schools in what is called gringolandia were much more slick, but I think we´ve made a good choice.

Born with a moon in cancer

DSCN1927
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

It seems that this part of my life is catering extensively to my saggitarius sun, however, ever since all this travelling began my cancer moon has been quaking in her boots. So deeply at times do i want to crawl into my shell and hide, knit, sleep, cook, clean, rest. Somehow my cancer husband seems less phased by all of this moving, but perhaps it is easier for him to put his pinchers up and say back off-now I sleep. Today a crying jag chased me around town erupting at strange moments and for strange reasons (Do you have my pen, Katie? No? Will you look for it? What- why are you crying?). I am hoping that the advent of a homestay, Spanish classes, and a volunteer position will give me a sense of purpose and sooth my little inner crab.

El centro historico

DSCN1984
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

I wasn´t sure how i felt about Quito, but today when I exited the bus in old town, i found the latin america I love. I´ll admit, i love colonial architecture, and here there is so much of it. It wasn´t just that, however, it was the people- so many walking, talking, yelling, hawking, sitting resting. There was a sea of bodies moving up and down the streets admist the tall ornate colors and trim i can´t get enough of. On a hill above it all is an angel- she´s giant- looking over everthing. I will walk up to see her before I leave. Chickzilla has been sick- but I think he is feeling better.

Los bicicletas

DSCN1747
Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

Sadie and I rented bikes from the hotel, bumping on cobbles away from the little fortress down into town. Wearing the yellow helmets the hacienda required, we were more conspicious than ever, however we were greeted pleasantly everywhere we went. We bumped down a road that had been torn to shreds. A teenage girl informed me they were finally getting private phone lines. Then we bumped onto the dirt and grass roads through the agricultural fields, delighted by all the animals and fence posts growing new leaves. The mountains loomed all around us with their patchwork of green and brown agricultural fields shifting in and out of the clouds. Four kids herded their calves, a mama pig, and 11 piglets out of the irrigation ditch and back onto the roads. Workers picking strawberries laughed at us. A Venezuelan man moving his cow along (gently) with a switch struck up conversation and told me I should stay in Ecuador with him. Being that i am married and he about 70, I didn´t think that would work. He suggested that being that I don´t have any children, I could buy some in Ecuador. I believe he was joking. Eventually we turned around to meet the wedding people in a distant field up another stone filled road for a barbeque. i was enchanted by la fritada- salty pork from a pig grilled on a spit. Sadie said later, "no matter where you go, you should always take a bike ride- you see so much more that way." I couldn´t agree more.

First night in Quito

After a dinner at a fancy restaraunt, A. announced "Welcome to the fourth day of wedding camp!" The younger generation piled into taxis to head to the No Bar, where we paid three American dollars to get in the door. I was feeling unclear where I was- there is a familiarity between latin American countries, but the chill in the air reminded me more of San Francisco than Mexico, and the pollution, not to mention the familiar faces of my high school friends and A.´s family, was familar to that of my home town, LA. I ordered a pilsner and wandered around looking for a place to dance. Eventually we took over a small stage and flashing lights washed over us as we geeked out, freaked out, and did our best to Salsa a little. When Chickzilla and I left the heat and smoke to enter the streets, i was suprised by the color and abundance of taxis. We awoke early the next morning to join the other wedding goers on a bus to Hacienda Cusin, taking a little detour by hot springs on the way, reveling in all our friends, new and old.