Distractions

My Spanish class is every week day from 9am until 1pm. That is a long time to sit still and learn conjugations. And afterwards I am usually doing home work for another 1-2 hours. The school takes pity on its students every Friday and offers field trips around the city. During these field trips we are expected to speak in only Spanish, and everything is explained in Spanish. It would be helpful to have a translator too. But practicing the language is more important than learning about Ecuador`s history and culture. Or so it seems.

This past friday there were two options for field trips: The Panacia (the hill with the large Virgin statue on top) which I had already seen, or a walk through Calle de Ronda. The Calle de Ronda (Ronda Street) is located in the old town, but I missed it while I was there earlier in the week. So that was my choice.

We sat down for two hours of class before the field trip. As my professor started to go over the previous day´s homework, I heard loud music pumping from what sounded like a telephone speaker. But from outside. I went to the balcony to investigate and found a parade. A large parade. Full of kids dressed up in various costumes. Some dressed in indigenous costume, some dressed as figure skaters (without the skates), others dressed in random costumes like princesses or spideman. The parade was in honor of some group that helped the community, but I got no further info on what exactly they were all about. So, along with a crowd of about four other students and a teacher, I stood on the balcony and watched the procession. It lasted a good 20 minutes and was really entertaining. Especially watching the "figure skaters" dance down the street in their purple tights. An adult followed them and poured water from a bottle on their little heads as they shook and twisted. Wasn´t a girl among them. Poor guys.

After that fun distraction, I went back to conjugating for the next hour and half. At 11am it was time for our tour. "Our" meaning a French girl and myself. Everyone else was opting for the Panecia. The two of us followed our respective teachers to the bus stop for our ride to the Old Town. The bus ride is either to keep the field trip on the cheap or to broaden our cultural experience. I told myself it was the later since we had to pay our own bus fare.

The bus ride gave me the opportunity to practice my Spanish with another professor, whether I wanted to or not. But it was helpful. I sat with the French gal´s professor and he immediately started telling stories about being underestimated when his "gang" gets into street fights. Uh.... Turns out he was/is a boxer (didn´t quite get the right tense of verb he used), and although he is short - maybe 5´3" - he is a "grande" fighter and is able to take down guys twice his size. I kept a watchful eye on him for the rest of the tour to make sure he didn´t go looking for a fight, expecting me to back him up.

The tour down Calle de Ronda was interesting. Probably would have been more so had I understood more than half of what I was told about the history of the street. This is what I managed to gather: It´s old. It´s touristy. Cars are not allowed to drive on it. It is very Spanish-esque. No one lives on the street, only businesses and organizations. You can buy several combinations of fruit and/or veggie juices. Souvineers too. It is a patriotic street. Quito has its own flag which hangs proudly next to Ecuador´s above almost every door.

We also made our way into a gallery that housed lots of children´s work. At least it all looked like children´s work. I am certain three of the rooms contained art work by children because ages were listed by each piece. Ages weren´t listed by the work in the other two rooms, but I am assuming theses pieces were done by kids. The gallery contained original colonial floors (these rooms were very cold) and there was a public restroom area which years ago served as some sort of community cooking area. This is where the translation got way lost. The story included info about how the people were able to feed ever-growing groups of people. But I didn´t get why they were feeding others or why they stopped. Maybe if I took another week of class. The French student was getting all of this and asking lots of questions. My teacher seemed mildly disappointed in me.

Regardless, the street was serious eye candy and a nice distraction from actual class studies. I took a ridiculous amount of pictures. During the ride back, I felt nostalgic for my daily commute on DC´s metro. We were riding in the middle of the lunch break and I was shuffled back and forth at each stop. The ride was interrupted half way by the piercing screams of a child as the doors closed on him at one stop. Unlike DC´s metro, the doors don´t automatically open again. And the entire back half of the bus started yelling at the bus driver. The doors eventually opened but the crying didn´t stop. 10 minutes later I was squeezed off the bus at our stop. I bid farewell to my teacher and headed to my hostel to pack for a weekend in Baños. Story and pics to come.

For pics of this story, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603097020286/