A bit of luck and curiosity
Trip Start
Sep 24, 2008
1
6
41
Trip End
Ongoing
Quito,
Ecuador
Monday, December 8, 2008
The mornings musical theme started with a bit of Bright Eyes and was followed by some Buffalo soldier and No woman, no cry. Bob always makes monotonous work pass quickly. My partner in crime and labor, Tigre, enjoys hearing new beats and rythms. Bob Marley is always popular to new ears, you can enjoy his music without understanding the lyrics. For me it is also cool because his lyrics are mostly, easily translated.
About 1500 oranges down we heard yelling outside the tall gate-like door. One of the voices was my host Benito. As we opened the door Beno and a huge samoan sized Ecuatoriano were have a battle of words The conversation consisted of insults and fighting words. I havn´t seen a bigger Ecuadorian. Tattoos covered his neck and hands. At first glance one could tell gang life and fighting was common. Beno had no intention of backing off of the argument. The tree of us might have tipped the scales of a fair fight. Tigre approached Beno in a sprint. Grabbing his arm, he pulled him back towards our door. Following right behind, we gathered Beno to the entrance of the apartment. The instigator was joined by some friends with the same motivation to stop the argument. Minutes later a block separated the two. Standing his ground Beno planted himself outside the door of his home. Staring between the two ensued.
¨What´s wrong?, What happened?¨ I quized him
¨He called me a fucking dick.¨ Was his response, ¨I was just standing here and he insulted me.¨
Speaking of the occurance remotivated my friend, and more yelling up the alley followed.
¨Settle down friend,¨ I said
Tigre followed encouraging him to shut up.
Ten minutes passed, accosting glances sharing the experience. Convinced of nothing but standing his ground, we three leaned on the cement was enclosing the apartment. Five more minutes passed. The man began to decend the block towards our group. Slowly strolling without removing us from his view he walked up and greeted Beno. His hand stretched out, and he began to apologize. The conversation that took place still shocks me as I think about it.
¨I am a little crazy. Sometimes I lose my temper and do things taht aren´t right.¨ His hand stretched out to shake mine. ¨I don´t want you to think of Ecuador as a bad place. Our people are good, and my actions don´t represent my country.¨
Our hands equal in size, mine lacking a bit of girth and the tattoos on his five hardest knuckles. Even with Beno´s inadmirable reaction to the man´s words, he kept a cool attitude of tranquility and peace. As he left, I gained more respect tfor this gangster aside from the street credit that his mannerisms and markings commanded.
How is this possible to have happened. One of the harder gang members of the barrio coming to a place that is obviously not the easy way out. His actions still shock me as I think about the occurance. What is it about this country and these people that makes their roughest members commendable when I am present. He seemed by his words to be driven by a cause that levitates his country through this mentality of national representation and communitity. My curiosity for these people rises with every circumstance that is more than unusual compared to US culture.
Danger is exciting. Danger is thrilling. It is uncontrolled. When wits is all that you have in a moment, survival depends on quick thinking.
All of my clothes have stains. Some are still completely appropriate for the city. Half of my cloths if worn in Mariscal would stigmatise me as a street gringo, unkempt and poor. If I wanted to be accepted by other extranjeros or people in the brick streets, new clothes would be necessary. After asking around for a while I was given the cross streets for a thrift store. I the corner of Republica and 10 de Agosto. From the hostle about an hour walk. Also the thrift store was a couple of blocks from a touristed central park in Quito..Parque Carolina. I was there the day before but didn´t bring my camera...amazing grafiti. Arriving back at the hostle I recruited the two english guys from Santa Rosa to join me. Anything sketchy...three is always better than one. The walk brought us through parts of a commercial district where we found one of the two cross streets, Republica. It was not as busy as the street we had been walking on, but looked overall relatively safe. Plus, there was a giant chair to be sat on. Straight shot to the thrift store.
We could see our destination as the two men approaced us. In their hands, Vegas eske prostitute cards. VIP We must have looked like very important people, he gave me three, or maybe just three gringos...I like thinking that I´m important...but I know that I´m white. The cards are a trap door, if we ask where the place is or for them to take us there, we obviously have a bit of cash worth robbing. We didn´t fall in. Next came the financial questions, and ¨What´s in the bag?¨ As one of the two patted Van down searching for obvious lumps of green notes, I explained that I didn´t have any cash and that my bag was full of books. Opening one of the main pockets of my canvas cargo, I showed him a black journal, Kafkas´s writing and some moleskins. ¨Your bible?¨, he questioned. Yes, I responded, lying with confidence. ¨Religioso?¨ Moments later my inspector told us that his friend kills people. ¨We have a revolver...do you want to buy it?¨ This trap door seemed a bit out of place. Right after he sees what he thinks to be a bible, he probes us one more time to see if we will show him some money. After answering no and telling him that we had to be going we were on our way again.
I have not tried to find these occasions, they seem a bit more common in this city. They do however give me somewhat of an unfamiliar rush. My life is not in my hands all of the time. My false bible comes to mind. With it I will write. Quick judgements will be recorded and I will continue to trust in my current direction. The less traveled road is sometimes the one where the criminals lie in wait. It also often provides the greatest rewards.
The grafiti is crazy
Cheers
Ryan
