We live at 8-25 Estavez de Toral and a day doesn't go bye that there isn't some interesting sight to behold from the balcony.
Our attention was drawn outside by bottle rockets taking off from underneath the windows. We looked to find a procession of people singing and throwing rose petals with a National Police band accompanying them. To make a very long story short, the conquistadors desperately needed to get the locals (in this case-Incas) mind's off their pagan Sun Worshipping and so they had Spain ship them an armada of shrines. I'm sure I mentioned this in an earlier posting, but suffice it to say the traditions live on and each village, church, whatever believes their shrine is the best one.
That free spectacle happened right when we returned from our bike ride. Here we are at the beginning of the ride on our way to worship at the top of a mountain which everyone knows is closer to heaven than waking up Sunday morning laying in a gutter slurring, "I got time for one more".
We're headed to that tree up there,
so we can take in views like these.
We made it to the tree and were told it was not in fact the top. "Just a little further", they said, "on some fun single-track". Where have I heard that before?
Just time enough to change my socks, but I had to endure the Andean dairy cows asking me why it took me so long to get up here, but that's an udder story.
Finally, we did "go tell it on the mountain" many of which have crucifixs at their summits to serve as reminders for the people whenever they cast their eyes and prayers skyward or as a Jesuit Guerilla once told me, "Pray for what you want, but work for what you need".
I don't know if I'd call it a religious experience, but I did feel like I had died
and was looking at the Pearly Gates while waiting to get inside.
Here below are Joella's best biking buddies. She's from Slovakia and is married to an Ecuadorian who went to school in Pittsburg. In a month, they leave for Bratislava to see if he can get citizenship and Jo is already worrying about who she's going to ride with then.
Anyway, that's what happened today.
Now here's some pictures of other rides that took place back in June and July.
Here I am leading Jo downhill through an eucalyptus grove.
They call the last gear you have at your disposal the "Granny Gear". At 10,000 feet, I just stay in it.
Jo loves to smoke the guys on the ascents.
On top of the world, as part of a
gathering.
Joella likes riding.
Most of the churches have large squares in front of them which are free for everyone to use and that's usually where the traditonal dances, concerts of all kinds and parties take place.
I saw a dancer in Lake Patzcuaro, Mexico who wore a similar hat and he told me it represented the rainbow. I didn't get a chance to talk to this fellow to ask about his costume. Anyone want to hazard a guess as to what the chaps made from llama leggings represent.
I saw a dancer in Lake Patzcuaro, Mexico who wore a similar hat and he told me it represented the rainbow. I didn't get a chance to talk to this fellow to ask about his costume. Anyone want to hazard a guess as to what the chaps made from llama leggings represent.
Then, we went to a birthday party for our friend Chris from Australia. No, he's not drunk ........... I'm just a bad photographer.
All his closest friends were there.
This is Clint, who is also from Australia and a teacher at the same school as I am, with his very pregnant wife, Pia, from Argentina.
Here's Chris again with his great wife, Jen, thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate.
So, the next day after the party of ex-pats we went to a celebration put on by the locals in Paraiso park where (look behind joella) donkeys escaped before their races even began,
kites were flown,
soldiers played music instead of war games,
hand-made wagons rolled
and no one spoke English.
Here they ride the political parties
instead of being ridden by them.
Nice change of pace to be around people living life and having fun instead of mumbling and grumbling about the world going to Hell.
One of the biggest family events here abouts is the 1st Birthday party.
I mean when they hire out a 9-piece mariachi band for the little tyke's shindig it kind of tells you just how important they believe making it through the first 365 days is to them.
Oh, and by the way, these musicians were another surprise I found from my balcony one day.
Simon Bolivar is the main street off of Estavez de Toral and they've been tearing it up for improvements for months now. That's San Blas in the background. If you turn around and look
in the opposite direction you see San Sebastian, our nieghborhood's church.
These pictures don't really do it justice, but the new "calle" (street) was very nicely done and the amount of skillfull handiwork that went into "a street" was incredible.
That white stripe is marble.
My final words will be on churches, hence today's title.
Here's a closer view of San Blas, notice the bells on the top right.
This is San Sebastian up close which is at the our end of calle Simon Bolivar. Everywhere you look there are churches and, as a matter of fact, there are 52 of them over 200 years old in the immediate vicinity all around our apartment. A throw away fact I used in a recently written short story called "Natural Selection".
This is know locally as "The New Cathedral"
because right across, on the other side of the central park is, this, "The Old Cathedral" built with the stones and on the site of the former, main Inca temple.
This is the back side of the New Cathedral with its sky blue domes which can be seen from everywhere in the city and as such are great for helping people who may have lost their way.
Knock-knock-knocking on heaven's door.
Right across another street from here is another church, Carmen of the Ascension, where the flower vendors sell beauty everyday of the year come rain or shine.
Down from there is another church, San Franciso, where artisans from as far away as Peru sell there belts, sweaters, blankets, hammocks and many, many other handmade craftworks.
St. Teresa's
with her yellow dome is right around the corner.
There are churches that look like they were moved here overnight from France's middle ages.
Then, there are churches whose front you can't see unless you're a cloistered nun.
This is St. Dominics where we often go at night for all the free ethnic dancing and concerts in its plaza and lightshows on its tall, broad, white face.
This is a church I'd seen on a tourist poster before, but could never find until I got lost on my bicycle one Sunday morning. It's such a pretty little thing that I'll go back again and when I do I'll be sure to remember it's name afterwards.
O.K. that's enough and I'll just end here with an example what of these fine people paint on the roadside concrete canvas they find instead of tagging it with grafiti.
Hey Pops, could I get a little "Will the Circle be Unbroken, bye and bye Lord" on your big movie house pipe organ?
After awhile crocodiles.
