Cuenca or Bust

OUR ECUADOR STORY #11: "¡Feliz Año Nuevo!" y Adios a 2024

Last night we ventured out close to midnight to see the New Year's Eve goings-on in Cuenca and it's something to see! This is our third "New Year" in Cuenca, but only our first observations of New Year's Eve. On December 31, 2023 we were sick with covid and the year before that we were very green here and didn't know anything of the traditions. When at first we heard of the burning of effigies on New Year's Eve I was, admittedly somewhat shocked, but warmed up to it when I understood more— that the effigies— usually paper maché characters of all kinds, or clothes stuffed with something— represent a symbolic cleansing of what was bad in the prior year, to make way for a fresh start. Sounds like a healthy practice to me.

Last night It was rainy, and the only things we could see, at first, to indicate that anything was up were a small sprinkling of other pedestrians, like ourselves, and here and there some vendors with their manigotes, or año viejos, on display. Some people were carrying away their manigotes individually, or loading up trucks to take somewhere else. Seeing these manigotes assured us that somewhere in this city— which seemed so quiet at the moment— there would be fireworks, and fires, and celebrations on the streets. For manigotes are burned only once a year, and this year that would be tonight, only about 30 minutes away.

We walked through empty neighborhoods where we had thought celebrations would be, We laughed at our own ignorance of how things work here, and gradually made our way to old town, which surely, if anything were happening, it would be there.

We were not disappointed. We stumbled across a party in the street where people were dancing to music, and some very large manigotes were set up on display. It made me laugh as I tried to understand the sign one of those huge paper maché dolls was saying and as I looked I could make out that it said, basically, "What are you looking at, dummy?" ("¡Qué mira bobo!") It seemed to be a large family party, and as there were many spectators and no one seemed to mind, we joined in with the spectators, underneath an awning on this rainy night— to witness the burning of the manigotes.

What else can I say? We saw what we expected to see, and what you see pictured here. One person even jumped over the fiery pile, which we already knew some people do. I half hoped— and half didn't— that I would see this. (I don't want to see anyone get hurt). Some people hugged, some people continued dancing, and generally there was an air of positivity. I hope someday I'll be connected enough with Cuencano friends that I can join in the fun as a participant rather than a spectator. Although I must say, though every time I see dancing here I feel so tempted, but the dancing here is so energetic— I'd need to work out my lungs a lot more before I join in on that part of it.

I am always interested in how things came to be, and so I looked up the burning of manigotes that takes place in Ecuador on New Year's Eve. To my surprise, it seems to have started here in Cuenca. Documentation of the early beginnings is sketchy, but this is a brief summary of what I found out:

The modern tradition of effigy burning in Ecuador most likely started in Cuenca in the early 20th century, with strong influences from both indigenous Andean rituals and European colonial customs. From there, it spread to other major cities like Quito and Guayaquil, and eventually to rural areas throughout the country. The practice became more than just a symbolic ritual, incorporating satirical commentary and becoming an important part of Ecuador's New Year’s Eve celebrations. Over the decades, mass media, tourism, and commercialization helped to solidify it as a national tradition, making effigy burning an iconic event on the Ecuadorian calendar.

OUR ECUADOR STORY # 10 : There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Bowl, Part 1

If you are descended from Western Europe you may have been expecting the last word to be “Shoe”. If you are not, this title probably seems odd and nonsensical. Impressions of things (little things or big things) are interpreted through the lens of where we come from. When I first knew I would be moving to Ecuador it felt it to be like a “consolation prize”-- good, but not the best-- that it couldn’t be Europe. But I wondered, what if I were a Latina? Would Ecuador (or somewhere else In South America) have been the dream-come-true retirement?

The first writing after the decison to move to Cuenca reflects this “consolation prize” attitude, and a little of my desire to reframe it. Read for yourself. Does it ring true for you too?

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“WHAT ABOUT CUENCA?

“What about Cuenca? What is it though, about Paris, Venice, London or the Cotswolds, heck, even Amsterdam, Monaco or Copenhagen that catches one’s attention, gets one breathing a little faster, and puts the travel bug in one’s shoes? It’s Europe — magical elegant Europe that wakens some sort of fantasy life of elegance and style, or perhaps intellectual delights, or an ambiance fit for the “artiste”. BUT…

“What about Cuenca, Ecuador? I have no hope of affording living my end of life in magical Europe. Or even familiar U.S.A. My destination is Cuenca, Ecuador. So, what about Cuenca? It doesn’t have the same sparkle, pizzazz, ad starry-eyed dreaminess of Europe. It is something different. But what?

“I predict that it will be like life anywhere on Earth or even the International Space Station. There will be people, who in some ways will be like me, and in some ways different from me. There is a lot of adventure to look forward to in that.”

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More about the "bowl", coming in Part 2.

Our Ecuador Story #9: The Useful Phrase I Don’t Want to Have to Say

The phrase I’m referring to is helpful in making connection with others. Yet, it’s a symbol that I’m largely cut off from the vast majority of people here in Cuenca.

With the help of aforementioned phrase, my first week in Ecuador gave me my first real encounter with an Ecuadoran human being in a public place. I was sitting (by myself) with my sketchpad in El Mercado de Las Flores. (In English: the flower market.) When I’m with David (Doug) I can usually rely on him to know what is being communicated in Spanish, but this was the first time I was out without him. In addition to the general shyness of being in a new place, I was feeling further insulated coming out for the first time after a long bout of being sick. A young man walked up to me and spoke lots of Spanish at me, a mile a minute, and I had no clue what it was about. I was experiencing some mental paralysis, not having the words to deal with this unfamiliar, yet benign sitituation. After the initial brain freeze, I thawed enough for my eyes to notice that he was holding a package of black trash bags, which gave me the understanding that he was trying to sell me some.

My brain now had something to work with. I knew that I didn’t want to buy the bags. I also knew that I wanted to be polite and friendly. And suddenly, unexpectedly, somewhere in my belly “the phrase” made itself known, and erupted triumphantly up through my body and out my mouth in a proud and loud explosion: “NO INTIENDO MUCHO ESPAÑOLl!” With equal volume and enthusiasm the young trash-bag salesperson volleyed back: “WEA AH YU FUOM!”

This two-part outburst then prompted both me and bag salesman to simultaneously communicate together in the international language: LAUGHTER. I answered his question since it was one I could answer in Spanish, and from there we were able to have a little 3-minute or so conversation, him using his little bit of English and me using my little bit of Spanish.

It’s a memory that sticks with me vividly. To this day when that phrase “No intiendo mucho Español” comes into my head, it prompts an internal shout/ laughter sequence, and an external smile. To me it was joyful, because (1) it was my first real connection with a Spanish-speaking stranger, and (2) I recognized it as an important passage: a real step (albeit, baby step) toward the long and winding road of assimilation in my new chosen country.

AN ESSENTIAL THING FOR ME TO SAY

Since that time the phrase “No intiendo mucho Español” is easier for me to access, and I’ve said it many times. It’s been essential.

In fact, just yesterday while shopping I said it twice. The first time, someone seemed to need some help. It was only later that I pieced together what she probably needed, but I wouldn’t have been able to help her anyway. But when had I said “No intiendo mucho Español. Lo siento,” (meaning I’m sorry) she smiled, laughed and nodded, and good-naturedly said, “tambien” (also), which I think indicated that she was sorry too.

I like this kind of exchange because even though I can’t engage as expected, still, (said with the correct attitude) “the phrase” can help me make a friendly connection— which is really a human need. Sometimes when I say it, the focus shifts to “Where are you from,” “My son is in New Jersey,” “How long have you been in Cuenca,” “Do you like my city.” A little chance for mutual language practice. And, to me more importantly, I sense that something deeper is communicated: “I am human.” “I am human too. Let’s be human together for just a few moments.”

There was one time when an employee in a fabric store rolled her eyeballs at me, but usually the response is kind, or at least neutral. Sometimes it’s just a little smile in the corner of the mouth, followed by the easy Spanish words that I need in order to understand. Usually the response is good-natured. With a nod, a smile, and more attentive eye-contact with me.

When I am making transactions, the phrase makes for good efficiency. Usually the other person knows exactly what to do or say to make the transaction happen smoothly. It’s their businses and they’ve been doing it for years, so It seems to come easy to them and without a hitch.

Like yesterday, while shopping. I bought an empanada from a little coffee kiosk. When I said “No intiendo mucho Español,” the guy rephrased himself in one word: “Aqui?” (here?) “No.” “Llave? (to carry?) “Sí.” Once again, “the phrase” came to my rescue, and I could painlessly get what I needed.

I DON'T WANT TO NEED TO SAY IT

But other times it just isn’t helpful at all. Like yesterday, still in the supermarket, a guy was trotting through the aisle (in a hurry I guess) and right next to me he tripped on an empty box and fell. To. the. ground! I looked at him and animatedly said to him: “uh!… uh!… uh!… uh!…,” while being fully aware that these words were not the helpful ones I was looking for. Neither would my go-to phrase “I don’t understand much Spanish” have been helpful in that scenario. The guy got up and was ok, and I was glad for that. Two things struck me about my odd communication in that situation. 1) I looked like a fool. That was ok. The more bother-y part was 2) If he (or someone in a future situation) would not have been ok, I would not have known what to say or do in order to assist that person.

So today I am thinking about the phrase, “No intendo mucho Español,” as extremely limited. Using it, I can get what I need but I can’t help others to get what they need. I can have a little human exchange but I can’t make friends.

So, as I have said, it has been an extremely helpful tool in my toolbox. But it’s not gong to be enough.