On the 24th of December there is a massive Christmas parade through downtown Cuenca.
On the 25th of December, the day officially celebrated as Christ’s birthday, there is a much smaller and simpler celebration at the New Cathedral across from the Parque Calderone.
Entering the park, you see people gathering in front of the Cathedral. In the street are decorated cars, children with angel wings seated on saddles, and a marching band of old men in suits, white shirts and ties waiting to march and celebrate with their trumpets, saxophones, trombones and bass drum.
Coming out of the church, is a small doll carried on a platform supported by the broad backs of men and women.
As the doll is carried from the darkness of the church interior, into the sunlight, believers throw rose pedals in the air and make way for a procession.
Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus and Easter celebrates his conquering of death.
Romans worshiping Caesar must have felt much the same as they watched him being carried through his city in much the same way.
The big difference is Caesar couldn’t give life after death.
People work out.
Some walk, some run, some drink beer, some play golf. Others go to the weight room or swim. Old men like to play softball under lights at night and dancing is loved by couples who wouldn’t put on a pair of running shorts but will squeeze their body into nice clothes and dance to a big band sound from the forties.
This morning fitness geeks climb stairs from the river to Calle Larga, stop at the top, look down, then carry the distributed weight down the same steps they just ascended.
I watch them pass me going up, as I go down.
For a moment, I want to join , but only for a moment.
This is a three man exercise.
The fourth man on the stairs has his own load to carry and his burden is more about survival than exercise.
You go down Luis Cordero all the way to Calle Larga, make a right, go mas y meno two blocks and look right, and you are at the Sunrise Cafe Cuenca.
The Sunrise Cafe Cuenca is a hangout for ex-pats. It is a comfortable mom and pop place with good prices, basic local and American eating, and people coming and going.
In the back is a huge room where friends get together on Saturday mornings to socialize but the room is open to anyone who wants to take a seat.
Breakfast is huevos rancheros in a way I haven’t had them before.
They serve their plate with a scoop of guacamole, diced onions, fried potatoes, eggs over easy on a tortilla covered with homemade salsa.
Frank, the waiter from Cuba who sells Cuban cigars on the side, keeps coffee coming and a lady next to me is studying lines for a radio play she is reading tomorrow.
There are families and kids here, as well as married couples and singles. Some of the old guys have gray hair, pony tails, and talk Bernie Sanders. Some of the women are grandmothers and talk about last night’s smoking date.
In Cuenca, you do like Cuencanistas do.
This lady in red, walking in heels and checking her phone, is lucky. The sidewalk here is negotiable.
Her bumps, even from across the street, don’t appear to need repair.
Walking, you see odd stuff.
This Museo and Cafe is on a walkway, just down from one of the tortuous staircases that lead you from Cuenca’s Historical District to the Tomebomba river.
The first time I tried to visit this curiosity, its front door was closed. The second time the front door was actually open. A sign on the next door inside said to ring a buzzer and admittance was one dollar and fifty cents. I rang, but no one came to let me in.
This third visit a tall lean kid opens the front door, says nothing as I am standing on the sidewalk behind him, goes through the interior door and slams it without saying a word. He is too thin to be Pugsly.
Sometimes you have to let stuff go.
For now, their website is my only entry into their world.
Sometimes places are prohibited for good reason.
If I enter through these locked and bolted museum doors, I might become one of the exhibits.
The Christmas Parade on December 24th is the full Monte.
It is an all day affair with the parade route being prepared at seven in the morning and the end of the parade passing Calderone Park at seven in the evening. It is music, floats, dancers, walkers, Christmas religious scenes, traditional Ecuadorian dress, people watching, cars, horses, vendors selling food and drink, photographers, drones, flags, security, television cameras, children climbing over fences, sleeping babies.
Each neighborhood in and around Cuenca has an entry in the parade. There are smaller neighborhood parades leading up to this massive event, but this is the Mother of all Parades.
It is part religious, part ceremony, part showmanship, part outrageous. When you get this many people together there is no end to diversions and entertainment..
Closing streets and letting people dress up and parade without penalty is Cuenca’s Christmas present to itself.
There is a lively street art scene in Cuenca.
One can google Cuenca Street Art and find examples I haven’t met yet.
At an intersection where traffic moves from the Rio Tomebamba into the Historical District there are two skeletons on an exterior wall of a building cavorting amid a glorious cactus patch. The scene is reminiscent of ” Day of the Dead ” in New Mexico, a yearly Mexican celebration that sees skeletons come out and remind people of their mortality.You can bet the person on the other side of the glass in that anthropology museum, in front of you, didn’t know they were going to be an object of display when they joined the spirit world.
These two skeletons look full of life and the inscription above both reads ” Salud a la Vida. ” On one end of the art work is the artist’s first name signature ,” Juli 2015. ”
Just over the top of these skeleton’s grinning heads, in Plaza Otorongo below us, you can see a blown up Santa doll waving at street traffic and strolling tourists.
In a weird way, celebrating Santa is as weird as celebrating skeletons.
Fantasies and nightmares both come from deep places.
Gilberto is trying a new reed. Sue is playing clarinet instead of soprano sax. A different bass player is sitting in. It is Wednesday, the middle of the week.
At showtime, it doesn’t matter how many hours you practice, how much theory you know, how many times you have played a song.
Live jazz is irrevocable. You can’t erase what you play, You are the bottom line.
When the light turns green you play.
When a song is over, it is over, except for a few bars that resonate in hearts that causes people to whistle your melody as they walk home in the dark.
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These two couples, just married, are getting their wedding photos taken in Parque Calderone.
When I first see them they have, with them, a young bearded tenor sax player playing ” Here comes the Bride ” on a street corner.
Their little photographer is contorted to get the right angle for his shots, the young women are smiling and laughing. Their new husbands look bemused and eager to please.
The entourage crosses the street, the ladies lifting white gowns so they won’t get them dirty, They take more photos by the spot where I witnessed official ceremonies celebrating ex pats, good business prospects, and a new transport system.
The last wedding I happened upon was in Montevideo, Uruguay on Sarandi Street.
This is just as memorable.
Everyone is happy, and, if they stay that way, they will be together when they are old.
They are, as a friend once told me, about rapping his knuckles on stones on a square in Russia, ” Marking the Moment. ”
The last accident covered in Scott Treks was a rollover in Montevideo, Uruguay on the Rambla.
In this case, in the Cuenca Historical District, by the time I walk to see what the crowd is about, the scene is just a crashed blue bus with its front end partially inside the front door of a corner retail shop, a fire engine and ambulance on scene, yellow plastic tape roping off the area, cops in lime colored jackets keeping people away, no bodies lifeless in the street.
The funny part is the difficulty cops have in keeping people from ducking under their yellow tape, bypassing the scene, and continuing on their way. Authorities have roped off the entire intersection so people coming from all four directions are stopped from moving forward and told they have to go back the way they came.
Some people shrug shoulders at this nuisance, some approach the cops and are let through barriers with special permission, others lift the yellow tape and go through the intersection when the cop is distracted. It is difficult to get people to do even the simplest things when they don’t feel it makes sense or makes them change their behavior.
The accident happened in a second but it will take hours to wrap up the investigation and pin ” cause ” on something or someone.
This accident looks like it might go back to failed brakes, but human error is at the heart of most accidents.
This afternoon us humans have made yet another mess.
You can buy flowers all over Cuenca, but one of the best places to buy is at a small flower market in front of the Sanctuario Mariano, across from the New Cathedral, down the street from Parque Calderone. Daily, under white canvas tents, ladies and men do flower arrangements, sell flowers, meet the public.
Cut flowers are one of Ecuador’s big exports, number 3.
Roses are the most popular for export to the U.S. and the industry employs 103,000 people and generates 800 to 900 million dollars annually to the Ecuador economy. Despite stiff foreign competition and changing likes of customers, the industry has improved its working conditions. Ecuador roses are world class quality and benefit from a longer growing season with no winter and lots of natural light. Cool Andean nights give the roses time to add coloration.
Facts are facts, but roses are a way to a woman’s heart.
Men, with a briefcase in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other, leave the market today with quiet hopeful smiles.
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