Quechua Wedding - Oriente, Ecuador
Posted August 21, 2009 , add a commentQuechua Wedding - Oriente, Ecuador
I was typing at my desk on the 17th floor of a Jersey City high-rise overseeing the Hudson when my cell-phone rang: “Alo! Luminita?” Static interrupted the familiar voice of Alex, the oldest son of the shaman: “My sister Lidia is getting married in December. My father invites you”. Gazing outside the window at the big city lights I accepted the invitation somewhat amused and immediately made travel arrangements to attend my first Quechua wedding in the Ecuadorian rainforest.
Two months later I was on a bus crossing the mighty Andes in rhythms of cumbia and bachata. Bare, round-topped hills rolled by my sweaty window. I was the only tourist among indigenous fellow travelers crowding the aisle and leaning on me at every curve. After reaching 4000 meters, the road started its descent towards the Oriente, the area sank in lush jungles of eastern Ecuador.
While my friends were attending fancy bridal parties in Napa Valley or the Bahamas, I was heading to probably the most peculiar wedding ceremony one could attend. I was lucky to have a high tolerance for ambiguity: besides the date and approximate location, I knew no further party details.
At the end of the bus line, Alex and his younger sister Lilia were waiting for me. Happy to see them, I leaned for a hug, they tried to respond to my western salute and we engaged in a graceless, uncoordinated dodge dance.
We continued our trip on a local bus through intensely green, sweltering tropical countryside, mostly in awkward silence and embarrassed giggles. It always took my friends a while to readjust. The rugged road cut through incredible tall grass and palm trees, and ended on the bank of Napo River.
We crossed Napo in a colorful canoe for only one dollar and hitch-hiked a pickup truck on the other side. We rode in the back along 12 other Quechuas, their babies, bags and banana bunches, jolting and jerking until we all had our bones rearranged. This 30 minutes mini ordeal to ahuano was as close as I got to a limo ride to the wedding location.
Ahuano is a sleepy village with one paved main road bordered by flat-roofed cement houses. In its ‘suburbs,’ with no running water and no paved road, many Quechua families established their home after leaving their communities in the rainforest.
My friend Lilia, 17, already married and expecting her first child, was living here with her 19 year old husband and his family. By now, my friends overcame their shyness.
While we cooked dinner, they brought me up to date with who was pregnant, who got married, who left the community to work outside. We ate on the floor, under a pale light-bulb swarmed by exotic bugs, sitting around a huge banana leaf that served as table. The rice with vegetables and plantains was delicious. I had a comfortable, strange feeling of being so close to my friends yet belonging to such a remote world.
Over dinner, I received my tutorial on Quechua marriage. The novios live together first, and if they get along, they marry, if not, the pair separates and goes back to live with the parents. The older sister, Lidia, 20 years old, had been living with her fianc?
Pablo, 21, for 2 years and already had two babies. Now it was time to tie the knot.
The next morning, I was awakened by chatter coming from outside. I took a trip to the bathroom, among the banana trees behind the hut, washed thoroughly with tepid water springing out of a rubber tube and dressed up in festive clothes - white peasant cotton shirt and cargo pants.
Alex assessed my looks then pulled out a bottle of Johnson Baby Oil and thoroughly greased my hair: “Better. This is how our women make their hair beautiful and shiny”. Maybe their thick, gorgeous hair. My hair became thinner, definitely shinier, with the kind of luster you get from not bathing for a month. Thus dressed and oiled, I was ready to go. We grabbed the presents for the bride and groom and started walking towards Pablo’s house following a dusty road. It was fairly early, but the sizzling sun was beaming down our heads, heating up the aluminum bowls we were carrying.
Pablo’s hut, a thatched roof home erected on pillars, was located in a green meadow surrounded by rainforest and yucca gardens. We passed by a patch of cement big as half a basketball court covered with a zinc roof, the wedding salon.
A few serious looking women were carrying logs under the roof, making two concentric rectangles of benches where the guests would sit. At one end of the enclosing, four shirtless lads were testing a sound system that could embarrass even a New York DJ, spinning cumbias and jumpy Quechua songs, even some salsa, a good mix for all tastes.
Nothing else moved in the scorching heat. A white pillar of smoke stretched deep in the spotless sky, the only clue to human presence around Pablo’s house. As I got closer, I heard voices coming from the yard. Twenty women, all from the groom’s family, were peeling chicken, stirring in huge aluminum pots, or cutting yucca. I felt hungry, it all looked so good. Some men were bringing wood for fire, others were smoking and chatting. I greeted everybody and sat around to observe the wedding preparations.
Around 11am, Lidia’s family arrived loaded with bags, babies, and boxes. First came the shaman and his wife, the parents of the bride. We greeted joyfully, it had been a year since I last saw them. Within seconds, the meadow was crowded with 50 something sweaty, exhausted and sun baked Quechuas.
They were coming straight from their community, a three hours walk through rough and dense jungle. As everybody settled down on the benches, two of Pablo’s aunts brought a huge cauldron filled with a much needed thirst quencher and energy booster, chicha, a fermented yucca drink. The ladies scooped the chicha with a small bowl and fed it directly into the mouth of each person. To me, this serving process broke all sanitary rules: not only the chicha contained water from the river, but the same bowl went in everybody’s mouth.
Although I like chicha and its sweet-and-sour refreshing taste, I could not stop a shiver of nausea when I saw the lady sink her cracked hand into the bowl, swirl the liquid thoroughly before pushing the metal rim into my mouth. She locked it between my wisdom teeth with a naughty smile, sending all the chicha directly into my stomach.
According to local good manners, I had to empty the bowl. I complied slurping the liquid to the last drop and my stomach extended close to its bursting limit. I leaned half conscious against a pole, with a bulging stomach, almost as big as Lilia’s 8 months belly. I was calculating my chances of getting diarrhea while my friends were praising my drinking skills.
The wooden benches were now occupied by more than 100 people and their voices filled the air with a pleasant hum. I was the only outsider, lost in a crowd of indigenous faces, but felt bizarrely at home. I was sitting in the second row with my friends, until one of the aunties made space for me next to her, in the first row. She would help translate the ceremony in Spanish, which I badly needed as I spoke no Quechua.
All chatter stopped when Pablo, tall, bony and serious, with his enormously shy fianc?e at his side appeared on the floor. I was surprised to see they both were wearing just t-shirt and jeans like everybody else. The couple was flanked by two pairs of godparents dressed in white cloaks with a red cross sewn on the back, bearing a strange resemblance to Spanish conquistadores.
The men and women faced each other silently while all eyes were on them. The master of ceremony, a chubby middle aged man from Pablo’s family, took the microphone, and, accompanied by a violin and a drum, started singing the song of pedida in a high pitched voice, ceremonially asking for the bride’s hand. The bridal ensemble started trotting languidly back and forth with small rhythmic steps and expressionless faces.
The song, repetitive and slow, became hypnotic after thirty minutes and I felt I was witnessing a mystical pre-Incan ritual. When the music stopped, the women sprung up, creating chaos and clamor, and took Lidia outside, near the brim of the forest. I followed the crowd, hand in hand with three kids that would not let go of me. Surrounded by all the women, the bride started stripping down to her undergarments with slow movements. Subdued, eyes in the ground, she was not speaking a word.
A cascade of yells and shouts in Quechua was pouring out of the godmothers’ mouths, adding a dizzying soundtrack to the whole scene. I did not get the words, but I understood they were marriage advice. Delivered in loud shrieking voices it sounded scary. I realized that even in the rainforest married life was extremely complicated.
The tallest of the godmothers started combing Lidia’s long hair, adding oil drops to make it sleek and smooth. The other one hang a pair of golden earrings on her lobes and adorned her head with red ribbons and shiny hair pins. The bride, a new woman now, was freed to go back to the wedding court. The newlyweds sat on chairs in the middle of the room.
One by one, each person deposited gifts in front of the couple and congratulated them. Soon the two disappeared behind a pile of pots, cauldrons, mattresses, blankets, and machetes, everything one needs to start a life in Oriente. I headed to the big stack of gifts, found the bride and handed her a pocketbook with $60. I had no idea what the etiquette required from me, but when I saw the pile of one dollar bills next to the groom I knew I did ok. Later on, the bride’s aunt eating next to me expressed her awe: “They made $96, you never make that much money at a wedding”. I smiled, happy that I made this event unusual in my own little way.
It was finally time to eat. The food was distributed extremely fast, following a disciplined, well rehearsed process. A handful of young men formed a line from the women who put food on plates to the guests, and passed each dish from hand to hand. The line moved around like a clock’s arms and everybody was served. I received my plastic bowl filled with a creamy soup in which I found big pieces of chicken, beef ribs, potatoes, and a whole boiled yucca root. One of the boys pulled my arm: “You have to eat like us, with your hands”, and so I did. It was surprisingly tasty. The main course was a huge plate of rice and pasta, topped with half a braised chicken and a humongous piece of smoked beef the size of a small coffee table. Needless to say the chicha ladies kept making their tour, filling our stomachs with the yoghourty drink and making us tipsy.
Music was blasting from huge boxes, everybody was dancing and drinking up a storm. As we advanced cheerfully in the wee hours of the night, nobody seemed to get tired, only drunk, but this was overcome with a catnap under a bench or under a nearby tree. A thirty-something round faced lady, dragged me in the middle of the floor laughing and dancing around, her baby hammock bouncing pretty hard off her hips.
I looked at the baby bag worriedly and she opened it up: “Look, my baby, I gave birth 2 days ago”. I glanced at the tiny creature sleeping with his clenched fists over his face. I stared at her in slight disbelief then thought of all the post partum drama new moms deal with in my world. Two days after giving birth, this woman walked three hours through the jungle, drank, danced the whole night away, and had to return to her community the next day. My hat off to you, sister!
I spent the night skipping and spinning along everybody else. I could not tell if I had a buzz from the alcohol or from my dance moves. All the men, women, and children invited me to dance. I have never been so popular on the dance floor in my whole life. “Vamos a amanecer”, they were telling me, we will party until the sun rises. And so we did: one foreigner, pregnant ladies, new moms, toddlers and children, grandmas, newlyweds, did not close an eye until the sun was shining up on the sky.
Another round of soup with yucca was served at 11 am to whoever was sober and still standing, accompanied by the ubiquitous chicha. The 24 hour wedding was officially over. Everybody was getting ready to walk back home. Only my home was much farther than a 3 hours walk through the jungle.
Photo by gaborbasch on Flickr
Cuba is the Caribbean’s forbidden fruit
Posted , add a comment- Worst performance for tourism
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Aug 21, 2009
U.S. Legislation is pending in Congress that would lift the ban on U.S. citizens traveling to Cuba. Travel industry officials estimate that as many as 1 million Americans might visit the island each year.
The question is whether Cuba is ready for a huge jump in foreign visitors.
The island nation has much to offer.
The lack of development under communist rule has left parts of the country resembling a land from a time warp to the 1950s — a welcome change of pace for many foreign tourists.
Cuba is close — Havana is only as far from Miami as Boston is from New York. And the country has beaches, mountains and a rich history.
Attractions Abound
The central Cuban city of Camaguey offers travelers labyrinth-like streets, which were laid out in the 1500s to be intentionally confusing to attacking pirates.
Tourists can go snorkeling in the Bay of Pigs, or lounge on the white sand beaches along the north coast that was favored by Ernest Hemingway.
In the city of Remedios on Cuba’s northern coast, the main church was built in the 16th century. Estaban Augustin Granda Fernandez, 87, used to play the organ at the church. Now, he is the caretaker and shows visitors around the sanctuary.
He points out the timbers in the ceiling, the original Spanish tiles in the floor and the statue of the Virgin Mary, who appears to be dancing the flamenco.
Granda also points out that the statue has a bulge in her belly. It is the only image of a pregnant Virgin Mary in Cuba, he says, slapping his own stomach.
EnlargeJason Beaubien/NPR
This 16th-century church in Remedios, on Cuba’s north coast, is one attraction in the town. Although the island has no shortage of tourist attractions, some worry it lacks the necessary infrastructure to accommodate a large influx of visitors.
Roberto Maseo, who works in a dive shop in the beach town of Santa Lucia, says Cuba’s main tourist market is Canada, because of its proximity. Flying time from Toronto to Santa Lucia, or from Montreal to Camaguey, is about three hours, Maseo says.
Santa Lucia has a series of two- and three-star resorts that sell all-inclusive package vacations. Maseo calls it a value resort. Scuba-diving excursions — all equipment and transportation included — cost about $35.
Maseo is currently preparing for a shark show. “We feed the sharks. No protection. Shark is actually swimming over you, over your heads. People can actually touch them. No problem,” he says with a laugh.
Economic Benefits Of Expanded Tourism
In 2008, tourism was Cuba’s second leading source of income after nickel exports. It’s a growing source of revenue that the communist regime wants to expand.
There are plans to open 30 new hotels across the island in the next five years.
While Cuban officials say they’re not banking on Washington lifting the travel ban, hundreds of thousands of additional visitors from across the Florida Straits could pump much-needed cash into Cuba’s flagging economy.
EnlargeJavier Galeano/AP
Musicians perform for tourists at the Hotel Nacional in Havana. The historic hotel was built in 1930 and modeled after the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, Fla.
“For us, the American market is a big opportunity,” says Dario Fernandez, general manager of Hotel Melia Havana, a Spanish-run luxury hotel in the capital city.
The hotel has 400 rooms, seven restaurants and the biggest pool in Havana. It is jointly owned by the Cuban government and a group of foreign investors, and is managed by the Spanish resort chain Sol Melia.
Fernandez says about 3 percent of his guests are from the United States, but he estimates that number could rise to 50 percent without the travel ban. Last year, the hotel had an average occupancy rate of 82 percent — considered good in the business.
But there are challenges to running a five-star hotel in a communist country where ordinary citizens earn just $20 a month. For instance, the reason Melia Havana has seven restaurants is that few dining options outside the hotel meet foreign tourists’ standards. The Melia runs its own fleet of buses for its employees because the city’s transportation system is so unreliable.
American Tourists’ Historical Connection
The Hotel Nacional in Havana abounds with shared history. The Nacional was built in 1930 and modeled after the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, Fla.
EnlargeJason Beaubien/NPR
Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner stayed at the Hotel Nacional on their honeymoon.
In 1946, American mobster Charles “Lucky” Luciano held a convention at the Nacional of American gangsters plotting to turn Havana into a second Las Vegas. In 1951, Hollywood stars Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner stayed there on their honeymoon.
After Fidel Castro came to power in 1959, he shut down the hotel’s casino and installed Soviet anti-aircraft guns along the front lawn — under which a bomb shelter, built during the Cuban missile crisis of 1962, still remains.
But if guests don’t want to think about the moment the world was pushed to the brink of nuclear war, mafia gambling rackets or the clash between capitalism and communism, they can sip mojitos at an outdoor restaurant, looking north across the water toward Florida.
Jesus Noguera Ravelo, a tour guide, says Cuba’s infrastructure is not ready for a huge influx of American visitors. He notes there aren’t enough buses, rental cars, quality restaurants or hotel rooms.
“But if you ask me about the will of the Cuban people, I would say, yes, we are ready. We would like to have more exchange with the American people coming from the U.S. to Cuba,” he says.
Noguera says the American visitors who do come have much more interest in Cuban history than other tourists — in part because the two countries have such a long, intertwined relationship. He says if he tries to give Canadians or Europeans a one-hour talk about the Cuban revolution, their eyes start to roll back in their heads. But Americans, he’s found, are eager to hear about it.
“That is telling you that we have a lot in common. And we have to know each other a lot more,” Noguera says.
Check-in and Checkout the Hotel Art
Posted , add a commentEver stare at a blank wall in a hotel room and feel the compelling need to become a graffiti artist? That’s why hotels put up at least one tacky portrait on blank walls and hallways.
Iron Horse Hotel, Milwaukee
Iron Horse Hotel, Milwaukee - Sometimes, the wall itself is a canvas which defines the hotel’s decor. Art works by Charles J. Dwyer and Amber Van Galder. Read more…
Pfister Hotel, Milwaukee
Pfister Hotel, Milwaukee - Boasts of a massive Victorian art collection unmatched by any other hotel in the world, with an artist-in-residence program, and even offers guided art and studio tours for art lovers and hotel guests. Read more…
21c Museum Hotel in Louisville, KY
21c Museum Hotel, Louisville - Southern hospitality combined with North America’s first museum dedicated solely to collecting and exhibiting contemporary art of the 21st century. Read more…
Gramercy Park Hotel, New York
Gramercy Park Hotel, New York - Bohemia reinvented for the 21st century by Ian Schrager with great pieces of furniture and art, and interiors by artist Julian Schnabel. Read more…
The Nines Hotel, Portland
The Nine Hotel, Portland - Famed atrium at the Nines pictured above. Magnificent contemporary art collection by local artists graces the guest rooms. Read more…
The Joule, Dallas
The Joule, Dallas - Striking example of Adam D. Tihany’s award-winning design and style, creating a fusion of modern amenities with art, chic design and a landmark structure. Read more…
Photo credits:-
Iron Horse Hotel courtesy Desires Hotels
Pfister Hotel art photo courtesy Pfister Hotel
21c photo by ellenm1
Gramercy Park photo by Kathryn Rotondo
The Nines and Joule photos courtesy Starwood Hotels & Resorts.
ASTA President: Travel agents’ opposition to United should be sustained
Posted August 7, 2009 , add a comment- United Airlines update: ASTA victorious in getting agents 60-day extension
- ASTA announces officials election results
- ASTA asks United Airlines to rescind new credit card policy
- United terminates some agents’ access to credit card tickets
- “US Packaged Travel Landscape 2006-2010″ study released
- ASTA offers tips for weathering economic downturn
- ASTA releases 2008 travel agent usage and fee sensitivity study
- ASTA Board approves changes to officer eligibility status
Aug 07, 2009
The travel agency industry faces critical challenges— including the ongoing clash with United Airlines over credit card policies— that will place a premium on effective grass roots agent response, Chris Russo, president and chair of ASTA said in an interview with Travel Agent.
“In 20 years as a professional agent I have never seen a greater need for rank and file agents to get involved with ASTA and help us address bread and butter issues that impact our businesses,” Russo said. “And I include all non-ASTA members who must work with us on issues such as United.”
Russo, now completing his first year as ASTA’s elected president and chair and widely expected to be reelected for another term, cited the critical importance of agents contacting their representatives in Congress to protest United’s policy. “This issue is not settled and we have to keep the pressure on Congress,” he said.
While hearings may be possible, Russo says that the most effective tool for agents are face to face meting with Senators and Representatives this month while they are in their home districts. ASTA will offer a webinar for agents to show them how to get appointments and present their case.
While the United credit card issue has a priority, Russo is also concerned with new tax proposals such as a sales tax increase in New York City. “ The entire travel industry faces a challenge from local, state and federal tax hikes that can undercut the industry’s growth and viability,” he said.
Russo, owner of Denver-based Travel Partners, said that he expected accelerated consolidation among travel agencies in the year ahead and that, in his personal judgment, a 30 to 50 percent year-over-year decline in business is not out of the question. “If this is the case we will see extensive changes in the agency distribution system,” Russo said.
A recent ASTA webinar on mergers and acquisitions sponsored by ASTA was the best attended in ASTA’s history, he noted. “Smart agents are getting ahead of the curve,” Russo said, noting that there was widespread uncertainty about the Obama Administration’s health care plan and its impact on small business owners. “Many agents are on pins and needles on health care issues.”
While Russo urges greater participation in grassroots legislative issues, he also urges travel agents to encourage younger people to enter the travel industry. “ASTA and its Young Professional’s Society are moving to help encourage talented people to enter the industry and I urge widespread support,” he said. ASTA will soon launch a page on Facebook to help generate interest.
Russo believes ASTA membership by agencies of all sizes remains critical if the agency industry is to survive and prosper. He sees agents not only as a vital source of support but of intelligence on local and state issues and urges agents to advise ASTA if they become aware of issues that should be addressed. “ASTA remains an indispensable resource for the agency community,” he said.
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