Hola Loja - Or We Came Here for What Reason?

Karen, our neighbor on the first floor had offered to drive us to the shuttle, so we did not have to worry about getting a taxi. Being early by almost an hour, we sat in the office reading our books.

“Ryan, they are boarding” Ron said to me. I think he momentarily forgot we are not flying. The very new sturdy looking van could accommodate seven passengers comfortably. There were two young women sharing the back row with me, but only one young woman used the middle seat in the center row. Ron chose to sit up front next to the driver. 

We take off and I am trying to read. The roads are fine, but it still feels like we have hit turbulence. The captain never warned us to fasten our seatbelts, but all of us did so out of habit. Eventually, we reached the highway where it was smooth flying. Oh right, we are in a van, but honestly, we were flying.

The route from Cuenca to Loja has more curves than the famous Lombard Street in San Francisco. Our driver, who was older than a youngster and seemed competent, drove as he was trying to make the finals of the Rallye Monte-Carlo Historique. I could not see the speedometer or the scenery. All I did see was blur of differing colors. If I had a dollar for every vehicle we passed on a winding road, it would reimburse us for this trip and buy us lunch. Our driver seemed to treat the double yellow lines down the middle of the road as decoration or a suggestion for staying on the lines.

After an hour, we stopped for gas. Climbing out of the van for the men’s room, my real need was to move my stomach back in place. It along with my heart was stuffed in my mouth. What really set me on edge was rounding a severe bend in the road only to find a calf standing in the middle of the highway with its rope dragging behind. The driver slammed on the brakes, which were thankfully, very efficient. No animals of any variety were harmed in the making of this journey.

The two women to my left had the good sense to keep their eyes closed the entire 3 ½ hours. Sitting placidly, eyes opened wide, the woman in the row ahead of me had a rosary going. After the calf incident, she started lighting candles

after pulling her statue of Mary of the Highlands out of her coat. She probably would have started with Gregorian Chants next if she were not fearful of scaring the driver. I tried alternating sleep with reading, with keeping from letting out primal screams. My life passed before my eyes so many times, I was sick of reruns. The return trip may require drugs: sleeping pills, anti-anxiety, or the very least, a bottle of scotch.

When we arrived at ELITE tours in Loja, I was beyond underwhelmed. As soon as we reached what looked like civilization and not highways through the mountains, there was nothing impressive. Standing on the sidewalk trying to hail a taxi, eventually two of them stopped, but when they read the address we needed, they just pulled away. One said something as he drove away, but I could not catch it as he was closing the window at the same time.

Ron went into the office to ask them to call for a taxi for us. Within minutes, a taxi showed up and we were driving, and driving, and driving. As we traveled, I had the impression we were staying in a suburb or even a neighboring town. Ron and I looked at each other with ominous thoughts hanging over our heads. When we reached the street, the driver could not find the house. We had been given intensive directions by the American renting out the apartment, but I assured him it was too lengthy translate to Spanish. His e-mail response was that they were for us. A hell of a lot of good that would do us.

Finally, we made it and met James a rather robust American. As three dogs are jumping all over us making more noise than a nursery school class at recess, we are trying to follow

James. Oblivious to the commotion, he is explaining that he rents these two apartments from Sonia who lives in the house in front. He also ‘manages’ another apartment in a different location. “By the way”, he states “there has been some construction replacing part of the roof. They generally don’t start until 8am. Oh, and the dogs bark. Be careful when you leave, because one dog likes to shit on the welcome mat. If she does, just throw it on the lawn.”

By this point, I was ready to test my survival skills with ELITE Tours and head back to Cuenca. James shows us the shower, proudly stating that they just replaced the head. It is

the type where you risk being electrocuted when you shower. After asking if it was set or needed to be turned on, he demonstrated by turning it on. No water pressure – no hot water. After sighing, saying he did not know how it worked, he walked out. This is a one-room apartment. Bed, kitchen, dresser, TV, and two tables are all in one room. 

When asked about shopping, James suggested a small tienda on the corner a block away. We did stop in there, but they had limited supplies of things that were of interest to us. He also suggested the SuperMaxi “10 minutes” away. There were also multiple restaurants in the same mall for our dinner options.

Twenty minutes of walking later, we asked someone where SuperMaxi was, thinking we had gotten it wrong. We were on the right trail; we just had not walked far enough. The mall, basically a strip mall with a food court in the center, was nothing to rave about. We bypassed the places such as Kentucky Fried Chicken settling on something that looked more Ecuadorian. Though it was edible, it certainly is not worthy of a TripAdvisor review.

Mentally, I have been writing my AirBnB review for this apartment. I cannot forget the roosters that start crowing at 3:30 am. Dogs join the medley at 6am. There is only a

stovetop fueled by propane, but the tank was empty. Water pressure, which is so low, it cannot stimulate the water heater into action and the real kicker: the “coffee maker” looks like a windsock. You have to put the coffee in and pour boiling water over it.

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Say Cheese and Then Go to the Dogs

In one of the Gringo newsletters, we heard there was a man

who sells cheese and sausage on Saturdays from 9am to 1pm. If you do not catch him during this time, your are out of luck. Varieties of cheese in the supermarkets here, lack a certain enticement; it is the same with the cheeses in Hungary. You have to search for something better than pedestrian.

Getting off the bus by the University of Cuenca, we took a short stroll around the campus after a large ceramic piece

caught our eyes.  What a beautiful university this is. Each of the buildings are different in architectural style, walking the stunningly maintained grounds was a pleasure, and at this time, there are few students around. It must be between semesters or summer break. Part of me thought about sending in a C.V. and the other part of me said, “No, you have left teaching.” Only time will see which side wins out. That is not to say that they have an opening even if I did apply.

Back on track, we found our Gringo, who actually is from Sorrento, Italy. He was chatting with two other Italians.

Business was not hopping. We tasted three of his cheeses and bought small portions of two of them. They were expensive, but they are quality products. My mouth was watering for sausage, but the sausage was more like salami. Dried, not fresh Italian sausage, we left it. We said we would be around until the end of the month, so we may be back for refills. He shyly posed for a picture. Say, “I sell CHEESE!”

Close to his location, according to the tourism map, is a museum of archeology. We looked for it, but a number of the roads in this area are under construction. We walked about 10 blocks in various directions, obviously being in residential areas, not commercial. We asked a multitude of people where the museum was located. Not a single person had a clue even when shown the map. We found the cross streets where it is supposed to be according to the map, but there was nothing there. We hunted and

searched. We found a number of adorable dogs, but no museum.

Finally, we found ourselves back at the University of Cuenca, but at a different entrance than before. Ron asked the guard if he knew where the museum was located. By this point, we had hunted for an hour with no luck. Still, the guard was clueless as was the second guard who joined him. Just as we were about to call it quits, a few students passed by leaving the campus. Ron asked if anyone of them spoke English. Three young men shoved a young woman forward. Again, Ron asked, “Do you know where the Museo Arquelógico Universitario is located?” Suddenly, the three men found their voice. They said in unison it is over there as they turned to the left and pointed in the distance. It was a large white building at the back of the campus. With much gratitude expressed, we headed in that direction.

The guard felt obligated for some reason to escort us part of the way. Perhaps he felt responsible for strangers on the campus. We followed trails, walked through a construction

section, and finally arrived at the building. Cerrado! Closed! There were no signs stating the hours. Only one sheet was near the door dating back to 2002. The gate nearby was on the exact street that we walked by on more than once. However, all signage is on the side of the building. The street side is a blank slate of white. There would not have been any identifier as we passed. Even if there were, we would still have had to walk blocks and blocks to get close to the building. It would not have been evident from the street that the museum was closed.

Still, we were able to see more of the campus. The swimming pool and gym are open to the public. The campus is even more stunning when you really walk through it. There are three cafeterias spread around, so snacks or meals are never too far away.

Leaving the riverside to get back to the Mercado, one has to climb stairs. This particular staircase has 99 stairs.

Thankfully, there are breaks, so I stopped presumably to take photos, when in fact, I was getting my breath.

After a stop at the Mercado for chicken and some fruits, we were on the bus for home once again. We were a little shocked at the price of chicken breasts. Two healthy sized breasts came to $8. This is cheaper than the SuperMaxi, but still rather high. Ground beef has been relatively a bargain.

This little guy is in the window of the local florist.  I really

want to take him home.

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Sit, Beg, Protest, and Then Get High on Art

There are so many sayings that include dogs: going to the dogs, dog day afternoon, my dogs are

killing me, and so on. However, when we went out today, we found that Cuenca was having a people and dog revolt. There was a rather hearty protest in progress when we reached the park. There were about 75 people and dogs in front of the municipal building on one side of the street, effectively blocking the sidewalk for pedestrian access. 
On the other side of the street, the park side, there were another 50 or more people and about two dozen canines holding signs, banner, and chanting. They would all stop to pose for anyone with a camera, hoping someone in the crowd was a journalist. 

The demands include stronger animal rights. There are too many abandoned dogs in the city and surrounding. We have not noticed this problem, but we will take their word for it.

They want cheaper neutering clinics with mandated surgeries. Part of the protesters demanded stronger financial support for the care of homeless dogs until they are adopted.

Severely deprived from dog loving, we were able to get a healthy dose here. Not only were the people holding the leashes friendly, but they welcomed their babies getting loving attention from strangers. We, pardon the expression, lapped up the canine kindness. 

The original goal when leaving the apartment was to go to the CIDAP Museum - Centro Interamericano de Artesanias y Artes Populares, which sits on the riverfront. We had no idea of what we would find here. OH MY STARS, as my paternal grandmother would say. We were in for a surprise.

CIDAP is an organization with a mission to breed knowledge and skills of artists. The organization worldwide offers 50 different courses that have thus far enriched 1,294 artists from 26 American countries. Within Ecuador alone, there have been 193 courses with over 2,500 artist participants. There are 11 craft festivals sponsored making it the largest in the country and very significant within America. Please note the use of “America”. This is used in their official publications, which goes to prove that America is not solely the United States. 

Our jackpot reward was visiting at a time when they were hosting award winners of the UNESCO Recognition of Excellence in Handicrafts awards. The varieties and designs in wood, clay, and textiles were simply magnificent. Other rooms had permanent works on display that were as fantastic as well.  The entry fee for this museum is your signature on the guest list. 

We soaked in the hard work, the talent, the education and the sacrifices that each piece represented. Silently, we cheered for the UNESCO winners and mentally sent well wishes to the others who have displayed. They too are winners. 

Leaving this museum, we were really flying high. It is incredible how great works of art, regardless of the media, can lift your spirits. Now energized, we crossed the river to visit the Museo de la Medicina. Appropriately, it is part of the Hospital of St. Vincent de Paul. Admission here was $1 each. We were the only visitors during our entire time checking out the various rooms. Much larger than I expected, as with several museums here, you enter a courtyard and all of the rooms open to the center garden. 

This was no different. Each room seemed to be dedicated to different specialties. Dentistry was the first room that we entered; there were dozens of different antique dentist chairs and all the equipment of similar ages. Other rooms had displays for gynecology, cardiology, gastroenterology, neurology, and so forth. Each specialty had pictures of doctors who had made inroads into their specific field. 


Surprisingly, we spent a good hour and a half or more here. When we left the museum, we wandered a bit around the hospital itself. There was a sign on one of the office doors that read Talento Humano, which I interpret as Human Resources. I loved the way they phrased it. 

Next was the hard part. After crossing the river, 97 steps need to be climbed to get to the upper streets to navigate home.

Some smart person created this stairway by breaking it into groups of 12 steps, with the exception of the upper most, which has 13 steps. At each of the 8 groupings, there is a landing to ponder your thoughts, watch your life pass before your eyes, wish for a respirator, or whatever is needed, before progressing to the next landing.

However, some very wise person,

probably someone with asthma, decided to decorate the walls along the way. Not only does this decorate what would otherwise be boring concrete, but it gives those of us in need, the justification to stop occasionally to look over the artwork, when in reality, we are trying to suck in as much air as possible. 

I made the mistake of mentioning to Ron that there was a piano concert in the evening. Of course, he wanted to go. The venue was the former house, now museum of the Ecuadorian writer/politician Remigio Crespo Toral. Though we could not imagine where the concert room was, we did go to investigate it. 

Filling the house with mobs of people, the majority English speaking ex-pats, there were no chairs for the concert. Placed in one room of the museum, a piano appeared for the evening. Our artist du noche was Peter Dudar, who I heard the organizer say he was Italian. However, if he is, he is Italian/American for certain. 

You can see one of his piano tunes here. He played Offenbach, Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, Rachmaninoff, the

Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and one of his own songs. With the rooms overflowing with people and not being able to sit down, it was difficult to hear. Numerous little conversations started among others not within hearing range, thus making it more difficult still. We lasted for the first four selections then we scooted out of there. 

One thing that Cuenca has going for it is the vast assortment of cultural events, the majority of which are dominated by the ex-pat community since there is no language barrier. 

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Animal Quick Shots

Just some quick snaps I took with my phone camera. The dog would not cooperate and stay still. I should have used the sports setting, but did not realize I had one on the phone.

Dog from the hood

 One picture is worth a thousand pigeons.

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Dog Days of Summer

Those dog days of summer will soon be approaching, bringing invading thoughts of going to the beach for many people. Speaking of dogs, I have always exclaimed that the Hungarian dogs are the best trained that I have ever seen as a whole. Here is a beach time video to show what I mean.

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