Cañar 2024: Nineteen Years!

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Dear Friends:  Next year will mark our 20th anniversary of “half-years” in Cañar. As we missed most of our 2023-24 visit due to Michael’s hospitalization, it is all the sweeter that we’re here now for six months – and with an extraordinary arrival story. But more on that later…First, I want to apologize for my last post, the fundraising letter for the Cañari Women’s Education Fundación, which was hacked by (it appeared) crazy Russians promoting gambling sites. Some of you received an email with a bad link. During the weeks since then, I’ve endlessly pestered my website host service, installed security updates, and deleted hundreds of unauthorized “users” that crept into the backend of my website. I hope this blog will land in your mailboxes clean and untouched by outside forces. (I’m also adding a link to the scholarship letter with a donate button you can trust.)We have been in Cañar for two weeks now and, although it is peaceful, warm, and wonderful to be back in our southern community, Ecuador is suffering from severe power and water rationing due to the most extreme drought in the last six decades, which the government attributes to El Nino. About 78% of the country’s electricity comes from hydropower, and low water levels in the three major dams that serve Ecuador mean no electricity for several hours a day.

The first week we had six hours of power, broken into two periods of three hours in the morning and the evening. That was workable. Then the second week we had six hours of power from noon to 6:00, but that left us sitting through long, dark evenings. Our moods improved considerably, however, when I discovered an old DVD reader and began sorting through the hundreds of movies I’d bought in Cuenca in the 90s and 00s before the days of streaming. Remember those?  We’ve been revisiting some excellent movies to take us from dinner to bedtime, among them The Savages (Laura Linney and much missed Philip Seymour Hoffman), and Milk (Harvey Milk story); oh, and I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead with Clive Owen (shown below; that one was confusing). This week, the power goes off from 2:00 – 6:00, and I’ve come to anticipate the freedom that comes with no Internet.  Hurray! I get to garden, draw, walk, or read a book.

Water is another issue. We have several hours of city water a day, after which we depend on our reserve tank and a pump. However, for that to work, we need power and water simultaneously. So we store fresh water in containers, like so many others in this world. But even more serious, this week the government declared a 60-day state of emergency over the forest fires that have devastated more than 10,000 hectares, mostly in our region in the south. Wildfires that consume crops, animals, national parkland, and the páramo, lands held in common by indigenous communities as ancestral territories.

We are seeing small fires in the mountains around us, but the worst one is out of control in the unique El Cajas National Park, 30 km above Cuenca, where some of you have visited. Volunteers are rushing to help, but the area is vast. (photo credit: Reuters).

Ecuador is not the only country affected by climate change, of course. We can only wait and see what will happen with this new guy in the White House, who has previously called climate change “mythical,” “nonexistent,” and “an expensive hoax.”

But let’s go back to a simpler subject: our arrival in Cañar, We’ve discovered the best way to travel and settle in:  bring friends!  Bruce & Nancy from Portland came with us and spent eight days helping clean, organize, shop, wash, prune, haul, change lightbulbs, and much more. Their idea, not ours! They had visited Cañar in about 2009 with their daughter Miranda and proposed they make another short visit to accompany us our first week. A few photos tell the story:

 Thank you dear friends. Now we can never come without you!

In other domestic news, maybe Michael felt cheated of his ladder time? So this week, he put on his old Carhartts and, with Marco, cleaned the chimney from the top down. Taking lots of photos allowed me to not appear as the hovering spouse (which I was).  Not to end on a downer, but I’d like to add a sketch that I made the day after the election. (I think there were a couple of “pink” states I didn’t get in.) The text below the image, a quote by Justice Louis Brandeis, says: “We must make our choice. We may have democracy, or we may have wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, but we cannot have both.” (I might add that being out of the country and without Internet evening of the election helped a little.)

There’s lots more, but I’ll save some news for next time. I have a new/old project to tell you about, and Michael has a new deviled egg recipe to share. Everyone who tries them asks for his secret.

The Cañar Book Club

“I cannot sleep unless I am surrounded by books.” –Jorge Luis Borges

Dear book club members. It’s been so long since the last book club, I’m afraid I’ve lost some of your recommendations. I need fresh input. For myself, I find I’m drawn to a new genre: comfort books. At the moment, just loaded onto my iPad from the library:  The Life Impossible, by Matt Haig; and on my bedside table: Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf and The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy (both will be re-reads, always a comfort).

But on to testimonials and reviews: I’ll start with the most recent – Margaux and the Vicious Circle, an intriguing novel released in October by my Aristata Press partner, Anne McClard. “A young writer living in Lower Manhattan has penned a semi-autobiographical novel about her traumatic early childhood in Colorado, including the unresolved disappearance of a friend from the apartment complex where her family lives…..” (Read on with the above link to learn more and to order the book – Yay, Aristata Press!)

Regina from Cuenca:  I just finished The Queen of Water by Laura Resau and Maria Virginia Farinango, a novel based on a true story. “Born in an Andean indigenous village in Ecuador, Virginia lives with her family and works in the fields. When, as a seven-year-old, she is taken from her home to be a servant to a mestizo couple, she has no idea what the future holds.” (Judy adds: This could be a story from Cañar.)

Poppy in Portland:  I just finished reading/looking at Nicholson Baker’s Finding a Likeness: How I Got Somewhat Better at Art. I appreciate his commitment to learning to draw and his various approaches to keeping the learning process interesting.

Arlene in Toronto: Brotherless Nightby V.V. Ganeshananthan. “Set during the early years of Sri Lanka’s three-decade civil war, Brotherless Night is a heartrending portrait of one woman’s moral journey and a testament to both the enduring impact of war and the bonds of home.”  The Ministry of Time (by Kaliann Bradley) is funny and touching. The conceit is that a recently established government ministry is gathering “expats” from across history to establish whether time travel is feasible—for the body, but also for the fabric of space-time. Six people from different periods of history are chosen for the experiment.

Pat in Bend:  Here are three books I loved.  Knifeby Salman Rushdie is a memoir/meditation on his recovery from a stabbing by an Islamic radical at his lecture at Chautauqua August 12, 2022. In part, he writes an imagined conversation with his assailant, who was a child when the fatwa was issued, yet he carried his violence so long and so far.  Flight Behavier by Barbara Kingsolver tells the many stories of monarch butterfly migration interruptions due to climate change, along with dynamics among scientists’ religious beliefs and traditions. The third book is a poetry anthology, “You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World,” edited by Ada Limon. It features short poems by different poets that often stopped me in my tracks.

Finally, Claire in London reports:  I strongly recommend Maurice and Maralyn: A Whale, a Shipwreck, a Love Story by Sophie Elmhirst. It’s the most beautiful piece of narrative non-fiction I think I’ve ever read. An utterly compelling, true story of a couple who were shipwrecked in the Pacific Ocean in the 1970s, but also a tender study of an unusual but very loving marriage. I couldn’t put it down. (If any book clubbers know of anything similar please point me in the right direction – I want more!)

That’s it, dear friends. I plan to send a chronicle at least once a month while we are in Cannar, so please stay in touch, stay well, stay hopeful, and send news of good books you’ve read (comforting or not!)

 

 

 

House and garden

Dear Friends. I’d planned to write about Carnival, or Lalay Raymi as it’s called here, but for the first time since 2005 I skipped the event. Past years I’ve documented the hours-long parade as it winds through the villages and into town before gathering in a local field for more hours of eating, dancing and music. I’d always make a stop at home to download hundreds of photos, have a quick bite, then rush back out to take hundreds more, until the end the day when, totally exhausted, I’d come home. Despite being the best photo op of the year, after so many times and thousands of photos, my Lalay Raymi images are beginning to look much the same. Also, I had a mild cold this year that just wouldn’t go away and Michael convinced me to stay home. (Below, 2016, 2012, 2014.).

Instead, I thought I’d write about house and garden. So come on in… you’ll note that although the house looks much the same, the trees are growing tall, the lawn is established and there’s a line of flowers I faithfully attend while we’re here.

This month marks the twelfth year in our Cañar house, and it’s fitting that our talented architect, Lourdes Abad, is spending a few days with us as she presents a workshop in Cañar on construction and restoration of earthen buildings (e.g. adobe). On the last day she is bringing the participants to see our house and sample Michael’s canelaso (hot alcoholic tea).

So, a look back to March 2007: after two years of construction drama, we moved into our house with an traditional Cañari housewarming, or wasipichana, that included a night-time vigil, procession, blessing, southern cross placed on the roof, a roasted pig to feed about 100 guests, live music, dancing, and finally, fiery paper balloons called globos launched to float over the countryside. A wonderful day and a great relief when it was over. Since then, we have become la casa de los gringos.

In 2013, after I’d published a book about building the house and living half-years in Canar, (https://amzn.to/2ueNcvm), I sent an email to a journalist at the New York Times in the then Home and Garden section (I miss it still!) and in an act of shameless self-promotion, I suggested an article and attached some photos. Within a week or so, an editor had assigned a writer and photographer to come to Cañar. That’s how we met Tony Cenicola, this great photographer who spent a week with us and took the best photos of the house we’ll ever have by climbing a ladder in the garden to get the photo of the house lit up, and climbing a tree across the road to get the photo from the front, showing the rooflines. (And, despite having his rental car and some equipment impounded by the police in Cuenca for the entire week, he still came back a couple of years ago for another story!)

I was a bit disappointed, however, when the full-page article with a 23-image slideshow came out, to see that his editor had chosen many photos of sedums and other plain plants in the patio, and nasturtiums in the kitchen garden, rather than shots of the Cañari people, or the countryside, or examples of traditional adobe houses. And after I’d arranged for the writer to spend a half day with architect Lourdes, there was no mention of the importance of maintaining traditional architecture in Cañar. Here’s the article, “Up in the Clouds,” from June 2013: https://www.nytimes.com/2013/06/06/garden/a-second-home-in-the-andes-worth-the-4300-mile-trek.htm

And now to the garden. Our interior glass-covered patio garden has gone through several stages, from being the dusty dance floor and blessing site during the housewarming (see above), to early experiments with Andean crops (we came back one year to find our compadres had planted corn and peas), my endless flowers that dried up in the solar heat, a lemon tree that got whitefly, to gifts or purchases and exotic epiphytes picked up on walks and plopped down in an alien environment.

But plants know what they like best, so twelve years later we have a garden with monster aloeveras reaching for the sky, huge jade plants, aggressive creeping oregano that we keeping digging out, spiky things such as cacti, succulents and other desert-like plants without names (known to me) that tend to be slow-growing and do not require much care for the six months we’re gone. Then there’s that large spiking beauty from our friend Eduardo’s Vega’s yard in Cuenca that has gone crazy and neighbors keep asking for hijuelos – offspring- to take away for their own garden (photo: bottom center).

All identifying information welcome! One of my pleasures during a work day is to step out to the patio and take a short break to water pots or pull weeds and oregano, or watch the birds that come in and make themselves at home – even building nests when we’re gone. And my other pleasure is taking a longer afternoon break (between work and wine) to fiddle around in the kitchen garden. There, my talents are limited but not my enthusiasm for weeding, turning the soil – still finding construction nails and pieces of roof tiles – and planting seedlings (broccoli, chard, parsley purple cabbage, cilantro). It doesn’t matter if we’re not here to harvest the crop. Our compadres (who planted the corn in the patio and always plant vegetables in kitchen garden before we come) will be here to enjoy.

Well, dear friends, I’ve taken up enough of your time, and we’ll have to forego the book club this blog, but I promise another one soon once I emerge from my visa/vortex/ HELL that has kept me traveling a couple of days a week to Cuenca or Azogues to solve the unimaginably, endless, problems around having my permanent resident visa transferred from my old passport to a new. I’m now in the second year of tramites – red tape – and my only advice is to not stay in Ecuador beyond your 10-year passport expiration. (Just kidding.)

But I do want to end with an important announcement. This week, AILLA – Archive of Indigenous Languages of Latin America at University of Texas, Austin, launched the first archives from Cañar – the Peace Corps Collection.

AILLA’s newest public collection is the Cañar Peace Corps Collection, which features more than 400 photographs taken in the 1960s and 1970s by US Peace Corps Volunteers working in Ecuador with the Kichwa-speaking Cañari people on projects related to agrarian reform, forestry, and traditional handcrafts. Many photographs (some in color, others in black and white) are portraits of Cañari people or panoramas of the dramatic landscape of southern Ecuador.

I couldn’t be more pleased that we begin the first phase of this NEH-supported, three-year project with the work of these (then) young and idealistic men (and one woman) who came to Cañar in the 1960’s with cameras, typewriters and tape recorders, and once home, managed to keep their negatives, photos, cassette tapes and documents safe in attics and basements and boxes for 50 years until they reached retirement. Then, recalling this unforgettable time of their life, they scanned, copied, e-mailed and packed up boxes of documents to be a part of the Archivo Cultural de Cañar.

Participants in Peace Corps leadership training course, circa 1968.

I’ll end with Alan Adams’ introduction to the collection:

A bit about the Peace Corps in Cañar by Alan Adams: In the period of Ecuadorian agrarian reform from 1965 to 1970, we Peace Corps Volunteers arrived in Cañar tasked with supporting the peasant population’s formation of agricultural cooperatives. Young and idealistic, we walked among the indigenous Cañari and we were astonished. We conversed with them. We listened to them. We desperately tried to help them. And if we provided a word of encouragement, fantastic. What we learned was invaluable. We volunteers participated on many occasions and in many ways, and some of us had the idea to take pictures. Mine were lost. Some thought to keep their photos, and now they are available as part of a historic visual archive of agrarian reform, a decisive period in the history of the Cañari people. It was not a reform that happened to the Cañari, but rather a movement that the people themselves took over, shaped, and created to turn the course of their history. We hope that these photos help communicate the admiration and reverence that we felt as we watched the agrarian reform unfold.

Mil gracias! Hasta la proxima. Judy




Back to Cañar 2019

Hello Friends: 

Three days, delayed flights, missed connections, two hotel nights, $12 food vouchers for 24 hours in Miami airport, a taxi from Guayaquil and we are finally here in Cañar, on January 5. Below is Michael blowing his $12 voucher on a Cuban sandwich and guava cheese pastry in Miami Airport at La Carreta, one of our favorite layover stops.

If I count right, this is our 25th year of knowing this chilly, homely, lovely place; our fourteenth year living here half-years, and twelve years in our house. Which, amazingly, stays safe and sound for the time we’re gone. Perhaps because this guy was guarding it?

At least he was on duty the day we arrived, cropping and fertilizing the grass. It’s obvious from the droppings all around the house that our compadres José Maria and Narcisa and family and animals have been an effective security presence around the property during the eight months we have been gone. Inside, some dust and spiderwebs but otherwise dry and ready to settle in. It takes a couple of days (with altitude headaches, me) to open the shutters, uncover the furniture, unpack the sheets, towels, pillows and such, before the house begins to look like home. We uncover San Antonio in his nicho and take a look at the plants

Michael finally agrees that we have to do something about the massive macho aloe that is taking over the interior garden; in a couple of years it will reach the glass ceiling. From the time we moved in I have tended my (low) side of the patio, and Michael his. Many of the flowers I planted early on died during our times away (although volunteer geraniums are thriving along with a variety of sedums). But slowly, M. has invaded my side by planting cacti and jade and that big spiky blue-green creature a friend gave us years ago that keeps producing hijuelos. We’ll wait to see how things get resolved on the pruning issue.

Staying with the patio, a few days after we arrived I was crossing it to the living room with a large 3T hard drive in my hands, when my foot slipped off the brick edge and I went flying. Trying to hang onto the hard drive, I landed nose-first in the garden (hard drive went flying anyway), exactly between a rock and an watering spigot. Either would have done terrible damage, though my face still left a clear impression in the ground. We had no ice yet, but Michael had frozen two pork chops, so those went onto my nose in the first few minutes. After that, things got very ugly with purplish black eye and cheek and scrapes and scratches (no photo please!). During this past week I’ve had to explain over and over why my face is such a mess. Today I’m entering the bluish-green stage with patches of white skin showing through. (In photo below: I landed just to the right of the rock you see at knee-height.)

On to Michael – who is delighted with the result of his hip replacement in September, which means he can climb the hill into town without pain for his daily shopping. At home: cooking, chopping wood, building the fire, cleaning the chimney, hauling the propane tanks that give us the luxury of hot water. He’s so happy to be back in the land where a pound of large shrimp at the Sunday market costs $5.00. He’s in the kitchen now, cooking them along with camote (sweet potato) for a Peruvian-style ceviche tonight.

This is a short chronicle because I want to get it out before a busy week begins. But I must end by thanking all of you who contributed to the Cañari Women’s Scholarship Program these past couple of months. (Thank-you letters will be going out soon.) Gracias to our faithful contributors, we had a successful fundraising campaign to continuing support eleven women in universities full-time, two doing their masters, and various applicants waiting in line. Next Sunday will be our first meeting, with special visitors from the Women’s Circle of Giving in Bend, Oregon.

Cañar Book Club 2019

Finally, I’m anxious to hear what you all are reading and what books you have on your lists for 2019. For my report, I can say that the three-day trip to get here seriously cut into my stash of books. I finished The Gunrunner’s Daughter by Neil Gordon (fascinating, complex, still haven’t figured out all the twists and turns), The Rules Don’t Apply memoir by Ariel Levy, a New Yorker writer who must be one of the world’s most neurotic but charming journalists. Imagine Me Gone by Adam Haslett (hmm, no comment; found in a sidewalk library in Portland), and I’ve begun A Place in the Country by W. G. Sebald (a favorite writer but I believe these linked essays were pulled together and translated after his death and I’m not yet engaged), and a book by Paulette Giles, whom I knew as a writer in Canada but turns out she’s an American now living on a ranch near San Antonio, Texas. In News of the World she has written a lovely account set in post-Civil War Texas of an itinerant older man who makes his living riding from town to town to read newspapers aloud to live audiences, and the 10-year old Kiowa captive girl he agrees to return to her family. Reading, I cannot help but think of my mother, a great reader, who would have loved this book. Tomorrow will be her 99th birthday, and I dedicate this meeting of the Cañar Book Club to her memory. I miss her every day.

Please leave a reply here or email at: judyblanken@gmail.com. I do love hearing from you.