Chronicles of the Wayward Moot

WELCOME TO THE MOOT, oh world-wanderers and word-whisperers. After two years of Peace Corps. After 2,200 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. What. Comes. Next?


Here we are on the second trip up above the city, walking along a camino antiguo (old trail). Gone are the reliable days of blistering sun and cloudless vistas stretching towards Peru and beyond... now the air is more humid so sweating is unavoidable, but the wetness clings to everything and the colors of the plantlife are vibrant in the understory.

Some of the Años Viejos that people traditionally torch at midnight on New Year´s day to celebrate the end of the old year and the beginning of the new.

A cheerful note drawn by the Chuffmate that I couldn't help but share. That´s cuy (not roasted) sitting happily atop seasoned potatoes, campo cheese, mote (hominy), a little campo salad, and a mug of chicha (maize beer). Not quite the typical Zaruman menu, but good honest Ecuadorian fare nonetheless and I dig it.

Oh gosh. Some of the festivities for New year´s Eve. Here are some of the more flambouyant viudas (widows of the dead old year) staging a show in the city center. These were separated from me by a crowd of onlookers so I was safe, but...

Not from these jokers. I was sitting in the park reading a book enjoying the live music when a cloud of alcohol breath and perfume staggered up to me and demanded a little spare change to buy cigarettes. I asked these "ladies" where their husbands were and one said that they had divorced, another said correctly that he had died... after handing over the last ten cents I had on my person and getting assaulted by kisses, I was permitted to have this photo snapped. Masculinity gone awry, I don't know what else to call it. Well I suppose I could call it funny!


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