Ecuador Day 13: Painting The Town White

With nothing more than a little slit for a window letting in a beam of light highlighted by the tiny pieces and molecules in the air, we slept in that morning and planed the day from our pajamas. Which, for me, coincidentally, where all white just like the city we had awoken in. Sis, from her side of the room and own bed, threw out that we had better get breakfast, though that she was also at the same time pulling her beanie further over her eyes said she could use more sleep.  

What time we left the apartment, we did not notice. There was no log in the datebook from what time we checked out and left our small backpacks under the receptionist's desk. And really, it didn't matter. Truly, it doesn't matter much anywhere. A major difference between here and there is that here no big clocks loom over your heads like we might see in New York or at any airport. No digital countdown to the end of the day, no major reminder or pressure, and never such the faintest "ticktock" that would convince even the great Captain Hook to reconsider his retirement venture. Hardly ever do you see someone with a watch at all, and if you plan a date or meeting there will always be someone early and someone late. 

How would you design a town? Really? Where would you start, what would you build first, how would you plan the layout of all the immediate requirements and leave space for future modifications? One way to go about all of this is to chose a point, a center, and build around that point. Other plans make use of girds and geometric floor plans. What happened in Ibarra is a little of both. 

This picture is of a palm tree. Its tall and painted white just like all the other palm trees that you will find scattered around the beautiful city. There is nothing outstanding about this palm tree except for the one very overlooked fact that it was, and is, the center focal point used to map out the city of Ibarra. It was from the base of this average tree that distances where measured, streets where arranged and directions given. Today the roots of the tree grow deep under the new asphalt that paves the roads around, and nothing more than a fence yet no sign to passively remind the folks that, although no longer, before grand statues of famous military generals, or obelisks pointing to the sky, or clock-towers consistently syncing people's agenda's, there were trees. Trees that once were the tallest things in the sky way before we ever became bipedal, and hopefully way after we're gone. 

More venturing down unknown allies and wayward streets in search of things to put in our bellies. Hunger is the amazing motivator to try out new cuisine. Along the way, I was still distracted by the architecture of the city. I wanted to stop at just about every building, take a photo, and ponder how much of everything I was seeing was form and how much was function. Lots of both to be sure, can architecture be subjective?

Somewhere along the walk, between food and fruit juice, I was reminded the only time I have every seen such a white city is in the movies. Films depicting futuristic cities, or a once clean Powell street B.A.R.T. station, are manicured with perfect, untouched white gloss. Here, the white is off-white, with shades of dirt in between. Here the graffiti spells out poetic reminders for the love of education, and lovers lost, just as much as the periodic street code names or invisible gangs. Ibarra is what those cities of the future look like now that they are in the past. 

More charming architecture. The flat face, the balconies, the fancy windows, very European.

Straight out from a Dr. Seuss book, this snazzleberrie tree looking thing looks half way between a palm with some large flora poking out from its top-center. Very surreal, never seen anything like this one before. 

UPDATE -  From my loving mother, the plant here is the" agave attenuata and it is called foxtail agave.  This agave doesn't have the spiky edges and sharp points of other agaves.  Agave attenuata is from Jalisco Mexico of high elevation, so it is happy in the mountains of Ecuador."

Lunch rolled around at sometime, and left. We weren't even that hungry when we stopped off to eat these empenadas spontaneously; our noses whiffed the frying of empanadas de verde out of the passing wind, we pearked up our noses and tracked down the side restaurant out of the many street shops isled along the crowded street. Satisfied eyes, our stomachs followed happily.

Like the massive volcano that guards Otavalo, we never got that lost for the gigantic mountain that peeked above all else and pointed us in the correct direction. And similarly, it's paramount, it's tip top peak never revealed itself from the clouds even on the clearest day. 

We bought some local treats to take with us, including some very tasty local blackberry jam famous from Ibarra, collected our bags from the hotel, said our goodbyes and walked the block to the bus station. 

Because this was our first visit to Ibarra and back, we didn't know what bus to catch. But, knowing the language and general rules, we had an idea. So we waited for the Cita Express at 15:00. Smell of fumes from the massive multicolored buses moving in and out of the terminal made us lightheaded, and yet we had to wait. 

At 15:15 we asked around. Apparent Gabi and I were the only ones at the bus stop. Could we really be the only ones waiting for the bus? It seemed unlikely as just across the way crowds of people were jumping on and off slowing buses to anywhere. Yet, again and again, the police, ticket booth, and people told us we were waiting in the right bus stop. Hmm. 

When 15:45 rolled around, my paranoia got the best of me. I whent to go look at some of the other buses around and found one heading just past the towm we wanted to get off at. I rushed back to my sis who waited at the "bus stop" with our bags and we made it on to a new bus we didn't have tickets for. Despite having to move three times, sitting in other people's reserved seats, we were finally on our way home. 

I couldn't sleep, so I watched over my sister's shoulder at the passing countryside in awe. Mountains, rivers, and narrow roads sans rail guards peering down steep cliffs into valleys bellow - the national tourism slogan is right: All You Need Is Ecuador. 

We made it home pretty late, and the family was worried since our arrival was marked by the rising full moon. I hear from my friends abroad that this night there was an amazing eclipse in Europe. By the intense moonlight that night, the eclipse ought to have been beautiful. Such a rare sight, you have to be in the right place at the right time. Still, we enjoyed the moon too, and it was so heartwarming to come home to family who were happy to see us safe and healthy. 

Constant cell phone check-ins when traving abroad do help rest pattering hearts, but the love you feel when making it home after a long trip to welcoming arms and smiles is....incomparable.

Much love to all of you. 

-A