from 26.09.: Cuenca - 2,550m -
Басылган: 27.09.2017
Бюллетеньгә язылу
26.09.
I'll stop by Victor - my workshop maestro - to look for the lost hostel key and take a photo together.
The key can't be found, but Victor agrees to take a photo with me.
I have mixed feelings as I set off. Will the Vespa change its driving behavior, or will I struggle uphill like on the drive to Riobamba?
The acceleration has become a bit slower - but later on the mountain, I notice the reserves it suddenly releases. The slopes are respectable and quite endless. Even when I have to brake because of the bumps, it quickly picks up speed again. The engine sounds more powerful. Trucks that were overtaking me a few days ago, I can overtake them now. Now I only have to deal with cars. A huge relief. Peru with its highlands can come.
There is hardly any traffic, the weather is cloudy and sunny, alternating. It's a landscape that should actually prevent me from continuing on.
The travel time is estimated to be 4 and a half hours. I arrive in Cuenca after six hours. It's warmer here, the city is green, a river flows through it, the main center is located above the city and reminds me of Salvador de Bahia, where there is an elevator that takes people up and down.
An relic from ancient times above the city
The hostel is 10 minutes from the center and the magnificent cathedral. The facades of the colonial style houses are illuminated, the city seems to be doing well.
I have a four-bed dormitory all to myself. I book it for two days. There are only a few guests here. One of the hostel guests said that most of them went to the jungle for a few days.
I take a short walk through the center, take photos, eat a salad at the vegetarian restaurant, and then rice for $4 dolars.
Resting area and cushions - the hostel creates atmosphere
In the front garden of the hostel, it looks very inviting. Tea lights are lit. Someone is playing the guitar, my beer from this afternoon is still in its place.
Write and then go to bed.
27.09.
Today, I'm having breakfast with the other hostel residents at a large table. The Germans outnumber the others - but I haven't revealed myself because I'm not in the mood for 'where are you from - where are you going', I prefer a cozy breakfast. 4 girls who seem to be doing a semester abroad in South America and still need to clarify a few things with each other. But first, it's important to have a detailed discussion about the quality of sleep last night...
We're served pancake with fruit and an extra half banana. Plenty of coffee and tea.
Outside, I meet a German who has been traveling for some time and seems to be in the same situation as me. Not in the mood for the familiar question and answer game - he is taciturn, has been to Cuba, Colombia, and still has half a year of time.
I embark on a journey through the city. The weather is a good starting point, sunny with 23°C.
Opposite our hostel is a large school - a mixture of Art Nouveau and classicism, reminding me of my old school. I can't just pass by, so I take photos and enter the school. I expect to be denied entry or at least be searched for weapons. Nothing of the sort, a friendly 'yes' to my question and I am in the foyer. Classes are in session. Not only do I have permission to enter the hallowed halls, but also the pigeons, who are undisturbed in their search for the last crumbs of the snack break.
There are numerous broken window panes. Yesterday, when I was sitting on the Plaza Abdon Calderon in the center, three schoolgirls in uniforms approached me to sell me sweets. 50-centavos per bar. Of course, I negotiated and got them down to 40 centavos, but then I was curious about who or what they were selling them for. They said they needed money to repair the broken windows of their school. It's tough here - in our country, it would be an insurance claim - here, it's a pedagogical mission. So, I paid the 50 centavos.
I still have the idea of teaching German in a school for a certain period of time. The school in Arica did not respond to my email - tomorrow I will do it differently and just go there and ask. I don't have much time left here in Ecuador because my visa is valid until the end of November. But four weeks would be a start, maybe the school will then look for German teachers.
Today, I have two things on the agenda - taking the laundry to the laundromat and, more importantly, finding a video camera that I can mount on my helmet to record my tours through the Andes. I find a photo shop that offers a Sony 'action camera' for $400 dollars (!). I consult with Rolf via WhatsApp, and when I found out from the saleswoman that she showed me a previous model and they don't have the current one in stock, I give up. Plus, electrical appliances are very expensive in Ecuador anyway. Maybe I'll give it another try in Peru.
The 'new' cathedral, completed only 50 years ago, attracts me again. It is the successor to the old cathedral, which was built with the founding of the city in the 16th century but quickly proved to be too small. Today, it houses a museum and the oldest organ in Ecuador.
A lighting designer must have been at work here
I pick up the laundry and visit my vegetarian restaurant. The smartie needs to be charged, and there is a delicious fruit salad there.
On my way back to the hostel, I decide to stay for another day. On the one hand, to talk to the school, and on the other hand, to see more of Cuenca.
28.09.
To follow the enthusiasm for an idea, there must also be a realistic view. If I were to teach here, even if only for four weeks, I would always have the 10,000 km in mind. So, it makes more sense to realize my idea in Montevideo. The port will be close, and the risk of missing the ship is very low. However, tomorrow - before I leave - I will just ask if the school is even interested in a German native speaker. Maybe something for Nora if she comes to Ecuador after all.
I switch from the dorm room to a private room for an extra 5 dollars. With my own bathroom!! In hostels, sanitary facilities are always tricky. Beds can always be added somewhere. After all, they bring in money. But 'wet cells' are more difficult to increase - so the hostel guest loses out and has to manage well...
Today, I'll take a ride to Turi for just under 2 dollars. Turi is Cuenca's own mountain. Here, too, the basin location of the city is easy to recognize. It's hardly noticeable by gringos, there is an old church that is still closed and poultry with many little chicks. But they are not chickens. They might come from the chicken family, but instead of feathers, they have white fur. I strike up a conversation with a tourist from Guayaquil and ask him. He tells me the Spanish name: gallina de peluche. According to Google Translate, it means stuffed chicken. I leave it at that for now and ask him if they are eaten. No, he says almost offended. They are used for exhibitions. However, their eggs are about the same size as chicken eggs and taste very good.
I'm joined by a tour group at the viewpoint. An older participant asks me if I'm from South Africa and points to my helmet. He tells me proudly that his son is getting married. I ask him if he's from Australia - no, from Great Britain. They are celebrating his son's wedding here. Oh, I say, does he live in Cuenca? No, his wife is Ecuadorian, he met her in India. That's why the wedding is taking place here. So, it's not a tour group, but the internationally mixed wedding party.
Looking down at Cuenca, I quickly find the three domes of the cathedral and then the school and the four-lane road with the tree-lined green strip in the middle. Thanks to the river that flows through the city and the ones that come from the Andes in the north and south, Cuenca is well-supplied with water. There are large parks and lots of trees everywhere.
The taxi driver told me today that there are 500,000 inhabitants living here. There is a university that just celebrated its 150th anniversary, an airport not far from the city, leather and ceramic industries, and jewelry trade - not to mention the straw hats that are made and exported here.
I read in Wikipedia. Many people from Cuenca have emigrated to the USA and Europe, but now people from other cities in Ecuador are coming to Cuenca.
There is a hat museum that I visited today. Ancient machines shape the hats like we know them. They use heavy aluminum templates over which the hats are pressed. I would have liked to see the production of the blanks, but they are made in home work - by hand. It takes the home worker 3 days to make an ordinary blank.
Today
During my walk through the city, I keep looking into open front doors and discover the most beautiful patios (inner courtyards), which are so typical of South America, and enjoy the facades with high-quality craftsmanship.
Renovations taking place, cutting a two-meter-wide plywood board with a hand saw...
Handicrafts in all professions
During my walk through the city, I repeatedly look into open entrance doors and discover the most beautiful patios, which are typical for South America, and indulge in the facades with high-quality craftsmanship.
the photo was only tolerated reluctantly...
Artisanal craftsmanship in all trades
After visiting El Museo del Sombrero (The Hat Museum), I stroll along the Río Tomebamba and watch as a motorcycle patrol thoroughly searches five young guys sitting on the bank. For drugs? The policeman is not afraid to put his hands into the suspects' pockets and search through their jackets. He doesn't find anything. What was the reason for this?
And here we go into the 'lower town'. The view from the bank up
I go to my French café, where I had lunch yesterday, and treat myself to a Crème brûlée and a cappuccino. I noticed a poster yesterday announcing a concert for women tonight. I'm hungry for culture and ask the boss where the Teatro Sucre is. Just around the corner, perfect timing. This way, I still have time for apps and enjoyment.
Teatro Sucre is located in the courthouse. I suspect the entrance is to the left of the main building and suddenly find myself in the theater/concert hall. A singer of later age is warming up and it sounds just off and more off, and much too loud. I go in and stand in the middle of the hall, ignore the off notes, and focus only on the singer, the flute, and the pianist. The sound setup is a disaster. The concert is supposed to start at 7:00 p.m. It's just loud, really loud! The piano drowns out the flute and also the singer in the lower tones.
I first flee and look for the official entrance. When I leave, I notice two long tables with finger food. There is red and white wine, coffee, tea, and homemade treats by our overexcited Americans.
I imagine them rolling out the dough with a white headscarf, a starched white apron, and red-painted fingernails - the little finger of the right hand slightly raised - while watching American soap operas.
I grab some, but a lot and again and again - forgetting my good manners. I become a little nuisance with my backpack because I create distance by keeping it on my back. That was probably not well received... Oh well! I've earned it tonight!
This evening will stay in my memory.
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