This evening we are treated by an American jazz musician who has a home in Cuenca. She slips into the Jazz Society club with her instrument in its case, takes a seat and listens to the band, puts her horn together, finds a reed, and joins the boys for the concluding song of the first set.
Musicians don’t have to speak English or Spanish or French or Swahili. Jazz has its own language, history, theory, super stars. If the girls in the audience a few tables away from me would have quit gossiping in the corner while she soloed, I could have heard the music even better.
When music is on fire, you shouldn’t be doing things that put it out.
Quality is quality is quality.
Sue swung the whole room to her way of playing, and, being a gracious lady, was endearing.
Lots of jazz musicians find better living and playing conditions outside the United States where jazz was created.
Jazz has always been an equal opportunity music, but all audiences for it are not created equal.
The Museo Pumapungo’s second floor features exhibits on Ecuador’s geographical zones.
In one room is Amazon man with a blowgun who welcomes you into his jungle. Amazonian’s dress light and move silent as the animals they pursue. They live in thatched homes made from broad leaves and use nature’s pigments to decorate themselves.
Another room is dedicated to fishing people of the coast, and Galapagos, who wear jewelry made with sea shells and have fishing nets and boats that take them to their harvest. They wear simple clothes and use wood harpoons with iron points to hunt whales.
The Andes room shows colorful finely woven garments, mountains, terraced hillsides for growing corn and squash, alpacas and exotic looking llamas.
People live the land here.
The world changes, becoming standardized. Texting, television, internet and communications open propaganda to everyone, instantly. Standardized tests, standardized medicine, standardized zoning ,standardized construction, standardized money,standardized language drown us.
As the world becomes homogenized, we lose that which is important, for that which is expedient, easy, and makes someone else rich.
Chocolate is a money maker for Ecuador.
Karana is a Cuenca chocolate shop that uses only the best chocolate ( arriba) and makes their own delights in a kitchen in the back of their showroom.
This business is located at the intersection of Guayas and Pinchincha and this morning, Andres, the proprietor, is pleased to show Tom prepackaged boxes of fine chocolates. He also slides out trays of little gem like taste bombs from showcases to build Tom a personalized box of tastes he can take home to his Aunt Priscilla.
A nephew who brings you chocolates from Ecuador is a keeper and I can see Tom and his Aunt both digging into her gift package while listening to ” Saint Louis Blues ” on a vinyl recording pressed in the 1930’s by Satchmo as a light Seattle rain washes the kitchen windows.
Tom, visiting family in South America, played piano solos at the jazz club last night, and, by chance, I ran into him by the Cathedral and tag along on his chocolate mission to Karana’s.
Little adventures happen frequently in Cuenca,
Serendipity is a huge part of this city’s charm.
Cuenca is a World Heritage City.
World Heritage cities possess geographical, cultural, artistic, archeological, and architectural wonders which UNESCO believes are worth protecting.
In Parque Calderone, these photographs were taken between 1890-1930. They are of indigenous Ecuadorian peoples in the Amazon.
Most show the native peoples in their Amazonian lifestyle and Spanish Catholic priests going about the business of conversion. Progress, it seems, moves people away from land and into cities, away from many God’s to one God, puts shoes on their feet, clothes on their back, and time into their consciousness.
The faces are startling. They are stern, piercing, resisting, fierce.
Descendants of these people still live in the jungle. Some drive ATV’s, have cell phones, and check e-mails. They also remember stories of old ways and, at dark, around a fire, gather in ceremonies to celebrate nature and spirits priests hide from.
How do you tell people their Gods are not Gods, without resistance?
Modern art is an oxymoron.
When you go to galleries and see ” modern ” art you are seeing art done by masters whose works have critical interest and investors fretting over value.
Modern Art in this gallery, this month, is Eduardo Sola Franco, an Ecuadorian native, who was not only a painter but a sculptor, stage set designer, illustrator, experimental film maker. He was born in 1915 and passed in the last few years.
This is a retrospective of some of his output, which is voluminous.
His art, like much Central and South American art, is conflicted, political, full of dark colors and religious symbolism. In America, we tend to keep spirits in their place, under the doormat. In South America, there is a rich tradition of giving spirits time in the spotlight.
Franco’s art is tormented but he has been identified as a Modern master of Ecuador, a non-conservative gay man captured in a conservative culture.
The Museum is quiet, free, with nice grounds, clean facilities, and bathrooms.
The art on the walls in this Contemporary Art Gallery is self absorbed,and, for this reason alone, completely of our time.
Humans wear clothes. Some wear more, some less. Some are expensive, glamorous with designer touches straight from the runway, some are little better than rags.
This morning, in the Rio Tomebamba River, a family washes their clothes and bedding.
Two women, wearing yellow rubber boots, stand in the river, soak fabric in water, pound clothes on rocks to remove dirt like ancient Inca people. They have detergent in plastic buckets that they work into the material and suds run into the river and are taken away downstream.
This wash will take most of the day to complete with the longest time needed for the sun to dry blankets before they can be folded, carefully placed in hand woven cloth bags, and carried home.
This family started early and already has washed clothes and draped blankets over a concrete wall that separates the river from the road.
We are not as distant from poverty as we want to believe.
There are many in this world who don’t have a washing machine, or the electricity to power it, and come down to the river early when the birds shake themselves awake and try out a few of their sweetest melodies with sunbeams as musical staffs.
Cartegena, Columbia is a spirit place even if I hate its heat, humidity, street vendors, and dirty streets.
There are spirits in that Old City behind huge locked doors, in notches cut into stone walls that held big guns aimed at pirate ships coming for treasure. Spirits sit on the steps of the Museo of the Inquisition where great battles for souls played out in the fifteen and sixteen hundreds.
Cuenca is also a spirit place. On any day, even if you take the same route you did yesterday, there are surprises.
There are troubled clouds that mass over the New Cathedral like demons trying to break down iron doors. There are muscled figures out of science fiction movies, chained to a balcony, who look down at you with a scowl. There is a mixture of old world and new world, and, turning any corner, you can not be sure what might spill in front of you, whether you are ready to catch it, or not.
Paper figures hang on a wire fence by the Rio Tomebamba and are so fragile they are twisted and torn by forces outside their control.
Some say we are paper too, holding tightly to our conventions, with all our strength, so we are not blown into the river and drowned.
Forces for good, and evil, are always blowing us here and there with big gusts of their breath, like we are small sailboats on a big ocean..
Ronald doesn’t mind getting photographed. Just five minutes ago, two kids sat next to the icon eating fries and sipping Coca Cola.
How is it that a clown can become the most famous person in the world?
Ronald’s only resume is red hair, crazy colored clothes, clown shoes, and a continual smile.
In a city like this with hundreds of bronze statues of military men, conquerors,artists, writers, and churchmen, how can Ronald be so comfortable with himself?
It seems time to run Ronald for President in 2016.
We have puppets in office, but electing a puppet, who doesn’t pretend to be something he isn’t, would be the most honest thing we have done in years.
Ecuador has a new changing young generation.
A still small number of its children have adopted the music, talk, style of other big city children around the world. There is graffiti in Cuenca. You see some tattoos, some ear piercings and dyed hair, torn levi’s with holes in them, a liking to turn raucous rap way way up.
At a Gazebo in Parque Calderone, where adult protesters recently yelled against government tyranny, these kids are peacefully practicing dance moves. Each individual on the stage has his own routine, his own steps, his own personality.
Ecuador is a country where you watch young people taking the arm of mom or grand mom as they walk down a bumpy sidewalk. It is a country where older men, and women, still wear traditional attire of their village, bright skirts, black hats, braided hair, stoic looks.
This new generation moves us into new times with a few bumps and grinds..
There are, however, worse things these kids could be doing than dancing in the park on a Monday night.
If only all generational change were this easy.
At the top of the hill are panoramic views.
Cuenca, Ecuador has expanded as far north and south as you can see, stopped only by the Cajas National Reserve on one end and more mountains on the other. Red tile roofs and reddish bricks look like a bloody battlefield but there are no wars here.
Andres, our guide, gives a history lesson.
” There are about half a million people in Cuenca. The major industries are tourism, building construction and fabrication, and selling homes.”
You can see a few landmarks from this observation point, if you know them. You can see the twin blue striped domes of the New Church in Parque Calderone. You can see the soccer stadium and the goldish planet shaped planatarium that locates Gringoland.
” Ecuadorians are a clean people. We are taught to pick things up and be polite.” Andres says.
The funniest thing is when I tell him I am from New Mexico. His ears perk up.
” What city? ”
” Albuquerque. ”
He smiles and says ” Breaking Bad. ” We both laugh.
” The best thing, ” he advises, ” is to buy land. ” You buy the land for ten thousand, build a house, sell the house”
There are plenty of Ex-Pats into real estate in Ecuador, buying up farms in the Andes, old homes in Cuenca, beach bungalows in Salinas.
Riding real estate waves is a popular financial sport for people who have money but want more, and making money without working sparkles like your girl’s best diamond ring.
All these places with good real estate deals that market to foreigners had even better deals before they were discovered.
In Ecuador, as elsewhere, it is best to hire a lawyer to represent you because ownership of properties is convoluted and price is always negotiable.
Riding real estate waves is not always without wipe outs.
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