0° Latitude, 0° Celsius

"I have seen slaves riding on horses [or driving SUVs], and princes walking like slaves on the land." -Ecclesiastes 10:7, parenthetical thought added

On Sunday (June 4), I went on an excursion to Cayambe Volcano with a group of students from another language school nearby mine. It was about an hour drive north of Quito to the tiny village of Cayambe. And then another hour on a bumpy, dirt road up through the high grasslands above the village to the start of our hike. The first leg of the journey was my first experience with highway driving in Ecuador. Of course, the highways in general are all two lane (one each direction) and very winding and full of sharp curves due to the contour of the land (not anything like Interstates in the US, even in the mountains). And there is practically no regard for any sort of driving laws - speed limits, passing zones, turn signals, whatever. It is a free for all, you get where you are going as fast as you can and in any way possible. To someone not accustomed to this type of driving, it is truly frightening. At one point, we were passing a truck (on a questionable curve, at least in my mind) and another car passed us at the same time. A double pass (3 cars wide on a two lane highway) on a curve. I couldn't believe it. So for most of the drive, I just stared out the window at the landscape and tried to ignore what was going on.

The village of Cayambe is not exactly a tourist hotspot. It is an otherwise unattractive run-down, typical rural village. Although there is much poverty in Quito, the level of poverty in the rural areas far exceeds anything that I have previously seen in my life. The homes were made of mud-bricks, many had thatch roofs, and the people lived off of what they grew and raised - corn, cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, etc. As we drove through town, the cobble-stone road climbed higher and higher in elevation, and the lifestyle became more and more agricultural, poor, and the demographic became more indigenous. Eventually we were in the countryside high above the village. There were two little shepherd children herding sheep in traditional indigenous clothing high on the hillside - I think the sheep were taller than the children. The road was rough, lonely, and winding afloat in a sweepingly grand, high, open, desolate but painfully beautiful landscape. The huge rolling hills (almost like "Sound of Music"-type hills) conjured images of the English countryside (but on a much grander scale) from many of the British students that were with us. The hills were sewn in places into a patchwork quilt of fields of varying crops. It was one of those times that you just know it would be desparately hopeless to attempt to capture the scale of the scene with a photo. But I tried nevertheless. On our way down after the hike, the clouds opened up and an unbelievable burst of sunrays shone like a theatrical spotlight from the sky on a hill in the distance.


Occasionally on this lonely road, we would pass by an indigenous woman walking alongside the road in a slow but steady shuffling gait. She would be stooped over, suprisingly old looking, feet raw from miles walked, but always dressed in cheerfully colorful traditional shawls, dress, and felt hat above a long black braided ponytail. These women are extremely short (probably less than 5 ft.) and are immediately recognizable due to their style of dress and traditional hat. Unfortunately, up to this point, the only indigenous people that I had seen had been on the busy streets of Quito, selling Chiclets on the sidewalk, fruit in the street at stoplights, or Coke from a tiny booth on the corner. It is incredibly sad to see - these people seem to only be shells of a once proud native people, forced into extreme poverty by a rapidly changing society passing them by without a second thought or sideways glance. Many have lost their land, and therefore their way of life. Almost all are totally ignored on the streets by busy passers-by and drivers in taxis and SUVs. But there, high above and far-removed from the bustle of life in the city, I was able to observe the real indigenous life: harvesting hay, tending livestock, hand-washing clothes, walking, always walking. Some women we passed were so far from any structure, and judging by the speed at which they were moving, it was hard to imagine where they came from, where they could possibly be going, or when they would ever get there. Even more puzzling to me was the question, "What are they doing?". But one thing is for sure, they were never in a hurry. They don't have busy schedules (at least not in the sense that we think of busy schedules), meetings, appointments, etc. Certainly they must have many worries, but they are probably of a much different sort - Will it rain today? How will I make up for that lost sheep? Will my child be healthy again? Who are these people in this van speeding through my field? What are they doing? What are they thinking? Why are they in such a hurry? These indigenous people, campesinos (farm laborers, peasants), are so completely different from me and even the Ecuadorian people I have met in Quito thus far, that it is difficult to imagine what their lives are truly like. I would love to talk to some, but then...what would we talk about?

I've thought about how great it would be to be able to travel up here as a doctor and provide these people with healthcare. But then I wonder, "What could I really do that would be of long-term benefit to them?" Health education, I suppose, but then, how does one of these people change their lifestyle? They can't just call the plumber and have a toilet installed, or the electrician and have kitchen appliances intstalled. You could give them medicines, but what about when those (and you) are gone? What good, sustainable thing can you do? It's not for lack of desire, resources, or time to help that nothing is done. It's the way of life and the system that's to blame. When these people are fully and fairly compensated for goods they produce, are no longer mistreated, abused, used, or ignored, and empowered to better their own lives - that is when change or improvement is possible. Or is that improvement? Is there really a need? Or do I just imagine one? Aren't they better off without our worries, hurry, noise, violence, polution, sin? Do they really want what we think they should want? In an outside-looking-in sort of way - when considering the stress, hate, crime, ugliness of our "civilized" societies, their simple life seems somewhat desirable. That being said, I am thankful for my soft bed, hot shower, and well-stocked refrigerator.

Cayambe Volcano, the mountain itself, was spectacular. Although we didn't ever get a full view due to the constant cloudiness, the glimpses that we caught were amazing. The glacier is huge and in places, very broken up and rough - full of crevasses and seracs. It reminded me of pictures that I have seen from the Khumbu Icefalls of Everest (although probably on a much smaller scale). We hiked up a steep ridge to a high alpine lake at the base of the glacier. The rock/sand was very remiscent of the volcanic soil that you encounter when climbing in the Cascades of the Pacific Northwest. The hiking wears you out because every step up that you take, your foot slides back a bit - like trying to climb a huge sandpile. Not to mention that we reached an altitude of about 5000 meters (about 16,400 feet) - far and away the highest that I have ever been in my life. This mountain lies right on the Equator, and I believe it is the only place on Earth that has a latitude of 0 degrees and an average temperature of 0 degrees Celsius.