When shit hits the fan, there's still chocolate

I am sitting here this Friday night, not so much wallowing, but perhaps sulking a bit in the silence that has been left behind after Mom and Gram have left for the airport. As long as I am doing this international gig, I conclude that see you this summer and see you at Christmas will put a wrench in my heart and a rock in my stomach. It doesn't get easier.

And so, since that is what it is, I think it best to entertain myself by reminiscing about the last two weeks, which have been filled with memorable moments that I might neatly put in the following categories: Ready-Set-Carnival, Toots That Make You Laugh, Only in Ecuador, Damn the Altitude, and Shit ... Shit is Running Down My Leg Again.

We begin with Ready-Set-Carnival:

Dad, Mom and Gram hadn't even been in Ecuador 24 hours yet and I had them on a chiva, which this article coins "A Fiesta on Wheels." This is a good description. Often a night on a chiva leads to a morning trying to hook yourself up to an IV that drips Gatorade or Pedialyte. This is because on a chiva you may consume large amounts of canelazo, and perhaps aguardiente too. My friend Maria set up this particular open-air party trolley to celebrate her mom's visit to Ecuador, so it was more of a family affair and we all woke up without feeling too chuchaqui, or hungover, which is more than can be said for my students during the week we celebrated Carnival at school, but more on that momentarily.

During Carnival it is customary to either throw water on people or cover them in sticky foam. You can imagine that the children have a hay day with this, and indeed they do. At some point during the chiva ride, we all looked like this:

Photo credit: chuckdphotography

Honestly, I had little idea of what Carnival was really celebrating until I just took a peak at wikipedia. Historically, Carnival was a pagan holiday that merged with Catholicism. While some historians "tell of a Bishop in 1867 who threatened excommunication for the sin of playing Carnival games," rambunctious games have continued throughout the centuries. At Americano, Carnival is a long-held tradition and right of passage that the high school students look forward to all year. During the week of Carnival at school, which is the week after our Carnival break, the students in 10th, 11th and 12th grade campaign to get their elected queen to be crowned. There is a lot (quite understated) of drum beating and chanting and screaming throughout the week. 
The students look like this at times ...

Photo credit: Maria Gribensk

Photo obtained through Pris Gc

And then like this ...

Photo credit

For students, Carnival is the most anticipated week of the year, for teachers ... less so. As it turned out, Mom and Gram's stay was extended and I ended up with a one-day respite from the hullabaloo. More on that extension momentarily.

Moving on to Toots That Make You Laugh:

After the chiva ride (and a brunch with my friends and watching the SuperBowl at a new friend's house, complete with kick-ass halftime nacho bowls), we wound our way up the mountain roads to an ecolodge named The Black Sheep Inn. Before moving to Ecuador, I was unaware of ecolodges, and more about these earth friendly abodes in a forthcoming post, but, in sum, ecolodges often serve vegetarian meals, compost both your food and your poop and repurpose "trash". While Gram was experiencing a blast to her past when using the non-flushing toilets, the bathrooms were pretty cool as the showers were largely built from wine and liquor bottles, allowing the natural light to shine in through blue and green glass. 

While at the Black Sheep, we entertained ourselves by reading and playing a lot of Oh, Hell, a card game we introduced Alli and Charles to. Dad, Alli, Charles and I also utilized the outdoor workout space to get some TRX reps in. 

Photo credit: chuckdphotography
Yes, Charles can pump out the reps at the same time as taking photos, with the help of his lovely assistant Anne Bacigalupo.

Photo credit: chuckdphotography
Take a look in the mirror ... behind Alli you get a glimpse of the view we had while getting our sweat on ...

Photo credit: chuckdphotography
Now this is fresh inspiration.

So, the food was tasty, the views boasted more of Ecuador's beauty and the games were competitive, but still light-hearted, though the most notable, perhaps more memorable, moments at the Black Sheep Inn were those spent walking up the 2,189 stairs from the dining area to our room (that had a triple-decker bunk bed!). In reality, there were 99 stairs--Gram counted twice--but keep in mind that we were over 10,000 feet above seawater. That is no joke or exaggeration. So it was something about the altitude and the stairs that induced some gastrointestinal gassiness. I won't name names, but as we were making our way up those stairs, lungs and legs burning, someone was throwing farts. They weren't shaking the Earth, per se, but they did register on the fart-o-meter, and they had the Baci-Marquart quartet doubled-over, gasping for breath as we tried to stop laughing. This is how you make memories, folks. Once we caught our breath, and had stopped clenching our stomachs (this is really how we got our abs in), the toots propelled us up the remaining 37 steps to snuggle into our beds, warmed by the cozy wood stove fire.

Our time at The Black Sheep Inn is not yet done, but we do now mosey on to Only in Ecuador:

While staying at The Black Sheep, Dad and I set out on our first hike together in the Andes. Moving at a good clip, we made our way around Quilotoa. It seems to me that only in Ecuador is one able to trek the circumference of a "a water filled caldera" which is a "special sort of volcanic crater". At its highest point, Quilotoa rises to 12,841 feet. It is about 10 kilometers around, and I was happy to be hiking that day, rather than participating in the race around the perimeter, which the winner completed in under an hour. Perhaps the most notable, certainly the most beautiful, thing about the caldera is the color of her water. There is no filter on this photo:

photo credit: chuckdphotography

Additional unique Ecuadorian experiences:

Visiting the home of an indigenous family outside of Chugchilán, the city that Quilotoa is nestled within.
photo credit: chuckdphotography

The family raises cuy, or guinea pigs, to sell for the dinner table.
Cuy tastes a bit like chicken, but you've really got to work for your meat.
photo credit: chuckdphotography

Three little pigs that, rather than hiding from the big bad wolf, came running to see how reliable our guard dog really was. They raced back down the hill as soon as they realized Scout meant business and would certainly protect us from their sniffly snouts.

Llamas. Llamas outside your bathroom window, mooning you, and then munching on the hierbas and then making for the window to give you a smooch.

And so speaking of llamas, after The Black Sheep Inn, we wound our way back down the mountain roads--with a few deep breaths and prayers, at least on my part--through Quito and into Otavalo where we unpacked our bags at Hacienda Cusin. This was Gram's favorite spot, and this was where we met Larry, or just Lar as I like to call him; as you can see, we got friendly:

As it hasn't been a country of eligible bachelors banging down my door, I bide my time with besitos from furry friends. Hakuna Matata.

Cusin did share more than its animals with us. Originally purchased by Spanish king Phillip III in 1602, it has changed hands a number of times throughout the centuries, and it has been the site of some important happenings, such as the signing of Ecuador's constitution in 2001 and the marriage ceremony of Alli and Charles Denson in 2015. We can say that it shared a great deal of history with us ... and very beautiful grounds ...

photo credit: Hacienda Cusin

While staying at Cusin, we ventured to Otavalo--more about that momentarily--as well as Mascarilla, the town from which Ana hails. This photo series gives you a glimpse into another lovely afternoon with her family ...

That is Ana up there, picking mangoes. Ecuador's Got Talent.

We just made guacamole ... on the ground. Where are those tortilla chips now?

Ana's nephew carrying our loot: mangoes, lemons and avocados.

I love that the children are free to run and play throughout the town in Mascarilla.

Ana handing out the candy.

mis sweet padres 

We were hanging with the cool kids ...

and the littles too. <3

We've covered a lot of ground so far, and I've got a few more tales to tell, so grab your Friday night cocktail and get comfy again. Next up, stories from our chapter entitled Damn the Altitude:

After meeting up with Alli and making our way up the Teléferico (where I had to close my eyes and request that Alli time the ride so that I would know how many minutes of lamaze breathing to practice when we were heading back down), we began our hike.

Mom and Dad have been to Ecuador twice, once to Quito and then to the Galapagos, but as previously mentioned, Dad and I had yet to scale any mountains here together. Quilotoa was really the warm-up for Rucu Pichincha, one of four cumbres on the active volcano that I gaze at during my yoga practice each day. At 15,413 feet, Rucu would be the highest that Dad had ever climbed before.

Alli, Dad and I on our ascent.

We were fortunate to have buen tiempo for the climb.

Our favorite volcano, Cayambe, popped out. I was especially delighted to be able to show Dad what Alli and I had summited. I feel that he was extra impressed after she presented herself like this.

At some point on our way up Rucu I became aware that Dad was feeling the exertion of climbing at such an altitude quite a bit. We'd left without breakfast, though I had a number of snacks on hand. I reminded him that I had packed him some homemade chocolate cookies, which he generally devours by the dozen. As he took one out of his pack, he more or less nibbled on it, which seemed odd. We plodded on, though, running into some study abroad students, one of whom was keen on Dad's alma mater, Montana State Bozeman, and this reenergized him for a bit.

Nearly three hours into our ascent we reached the rock scramble, the part of the mountain where you can see the other climbers giving each other high fives at the summit. Dad had started stopping each step to catch his breath. Now, I knew it had been a number of years, but last we had been climbing together, in Estes Park, Colorado, he had kicked my butt. I had huffed and puffed my way behind him and joined him on the top of the mountain not feeling too cheery. As my padre turned towards me, I could see that his lips were turning blue. Stones began falling in my stomach. He looked towards the summit, then back at Alli and I and uttered I don't think I am going on. This from a triathlete who does CrossFit routines with his gym buddies. It's true I say Damn the Altitude here, but this was also a result of Ecuadorian Surprise. During the night, Dad had made his South American experience real. He'd abstained from eating or drinking much during the climb to avoid saying Shit ... shit's running down my leg again ... because that had already happened amongst the Baci-Marquart clan a bit earlier in the trip. Before we go there, finish your dinner ... and enjoy a few more fresh photos ...

Dad and I descending.

Oh, hey there selfie cam.

Dad was utterly surprised to find so little for wildlife on our treks, but then we did have a staring contest with a Curiquingue.

Alright, this final chapter should provide you with your evening entertainment. Shit ... shit is running down my leg again:

To read the conclusion of this longest post ever, we will first have to back it up a bit. While at Hacienda Cusin, Gram had been the first hit with Ecuadorian Surprise, and if you haven't yet drawn an appropriate inference here, this is an euphemism for super shitty South American diarrhea. We've all been victims. It hits you when you least expect it. And it hits you hard.

If you know my grandmother (and my mother and my sisters), you are well aware of what a super shopper she is. The second day at Cusin we had planned to go to the market in Otavalo. E.S. was wreaking havoc on her intestines, perhaps in an attempt to protect her pocketbook, but Gram was not surrendering. The flag she was waving was not white, it was green, for GO. So, Mom, Dad, Ana, Gram and I piled into a taxi to see what artisanal goods we could find.

Perrrhaps twenty minutes into our exploring of the market area, a panicked expression crossed Gram's face as she sternly said Ana, I need a bathroom. I was downwind. I knew it wasn't good ... but, I didn't know quite how bad just yet. Gram and Ana walked across the street to go into a nearby restaurant. When Ana inquired if Gram could use the restroom, the proprietor turned them down. Mi abuelita left him a shitty gift for his unkindness. The thing is, leaving out further raw or runny details, we'd had a Bridesmaid's moment on our hands.

Eventually, Ana found a kind woman who allowed us to get our shit together again. It was fortunate that there were many vendors selling pants at the market. As I am recounting this, I am still reflecting in awe at the aplomb with which Gram handled the whole situation. My favorite line from her: Well, I don't know anyone else at this market, and you all already love me. True story, and good lesson for the attitude to hone when shit hits the fan ... or the floor.

To further marvel at this woman, after getting cleaned up, she still wanted to go to Cotacachi, the nearby town where leather goods are sold. At this point I think we all figured that her bowels had been emptied, so we shopped on, Gram all decked out in her new navy capris. We did make it through Cotacachi and back to Quito without further incident.

But then shit kept happening. And I grew pretty concerned. Finally, on Friday night, three days after E.S. first struck, Mom and I took Gram into the hospital. While I had assumed they would admit Gram, and we would spend one night there so she could get some fluids going, and perhaps get on some medication, Friday night was the first of four nights that my dear abuelita would shack up at Chateau Metropolitano. It would be here, at the five star hospital, that she would meet a handsome Doctor Jimenez, do the tango with Alfred, the IV machine, play many card games with Ana and laugh aloud to some great Bill Bryson tales.

While I am certain there were some questionable moments for Gram, she kept a brave face on, complete with a pretty great smile. I've known her spirit to be full of verve and sass and spice, and she whipped these all up together to kick some bacteria and parasite ass.

On the fourth day, when we knew she'd be breaking free, we were sad to say our goodbye to the sweet smelling doctor, but we were quite happy when he said that chocolate could be part of her diet that had so many other limitations. There was a prompt run to Supermaxi to purchase Pacari's dark chocolate and Himalayan sea salt bar.

Usually men are apt to take their parts with them, but not Alfred. He was just too attached to mi abuelita.

This is mere hours after we broke out of the hospital. 

At lunch after the hospital break there was also decadent chocolate shot-sized desserts consumed. And, in truth, they made the formerly shitty situation sweeter. But sweeter still was the time I got to spend with Mom and Gram for the last two days that Gram was ordered by Dr. Jimenez to stay in Quito recovering before boarding an overnight plane to fly back home. 

Mom and Gram in front of one of many churches in Old Town.

Eating dinner at Pim's near the Panecillo...

which offered this spectacular view.

So here we are back to pondering the unexpected nature of life; there always are delights and disappointments, great happiness and deep sadness in this vein. We did not think that Gram would make it to Ecuador, but the unexpected timing of Grandpa's passing opened up a space, both physically and emotionally, for her to join Mom and Dad and see a new world abroad. I did not expect for my two worlds to combine as wholly as they did in their time here, but we ended up spending a good deal of time with my friends, which led to so much laughter and bridging of spaces. And we certainly did not expect the trip for Mom and Gram to be extended because of a hospital stay, but then even that led to more abrazos fuertes and dinners and time just being in the presence of each other. Who can predict what will happen in the last months here? Clearly not I, and I would not choose it another way.

Sending love to you all from south of the equator.

Always, 

Jame

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“Would you like to know your future?

If your answer is yes, think again. Not knowing is the greatest life motivator.

So enjoy, endure, survive each moment as it comes to you in its proper sequence -- a surprise.” 
Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration