g-pass

i'm loving cuenca. it's a colonial town in the southern highlands of ecuador with well preserved architecture, a gorgeous national park at its doorstep, running streams, great bars, cool people, and a distinct feeling of safety. when i see chicks sitting casually on benches in dark parks at midnight chatting on their mobile phones (something that to me screams 'please rob me'), i know i've come to the right place.

what am i doing here? i'm studying spanish. but not with a teacher - if my abortive german lessons in berlin taught me anything, it's that adults can learn, but they cannot be taught. the education system is more about social conditioning than learning in any case. throw in the fact that i am a passionate super-nerd autodidact, and there was never even a question of taking lessons from someone else. mark twain was correct when he advised 'don't let school interfere with your education'. spot on mr twain.

if you're interested, i'll tell you what i do (if you're not, skip this paragraph, because it might get (even more) boring for you). studies show that acquisition of languages is all related to comprehensible input. not talking, not writing, and certainly not learning grammar. it's all about reading and listening to things that you can actually understand. basically i use a program on the internet called lingq.com (which i love), translate things that are interesting and written for natives and not for students, and then read and listen to them over and over again until my brain somehow integrates all of the vocabulary and grammar by itself. the end result is that when i try to speak, all that information has somehow consolidated itself and sentences with vaguely correct vocabulary and grammar simply pop out of no-where, like athena leaping fully formed from zeus' head. after a few months feeling my way into spanish in paris and now three weeks in ecuador, i'm certainly not fluent and i make heaps of mistakes every time i open my mouth, but i can go out with my ecuadorian friends and chat all night over dinner or a beer or seven, and there are virtually no uncomfortable moments of incomprehension. this is the sort of success i'm looking for. it took me four years to get where i am in french and i've still got a long way to go in that language. i know that i'm never going to be perfect in any language other than english, and i don't want to be. the end point of speaking is wonderful, but the process - this whole slow, incremental, lifelong process of gradually acquiring the ability to communicate in another language with people from another culture - is quite possibly my life's number one turn-on, and something that has never, ever left me feeling bored. i love it. i love it with such a passion that i cannot express it. it burns in me. it has burned in me for over half a decade now and with time this fire only burns brighter.

a lot of people like travelling around south america, meeting other tourists and having wonderful experiences with them. this is fine, and i've met some cool gringos so far and had fun with them too. but i am a gringo from australia, and my country has over 20 million gringos in it, so if i had wanted to hang out with gringos, i would have just stayed at home. i want to meet ecuadorians. i want to know what they think. i want to know how they see the world. i want to know what they eat and eat it with them, i want to know where they go and go there with them. i want to immerse myself not only in a language, but in a culture. it may seem easier said than done, but that's where i use my secret weapon: the g-pass.

which minority group is represented in every single culture, language group, ethnicity, nationality or other minority group on the planet? gays! that's right: they're everywhere. without discrimination, straight couples around the world just keep pumping out gay babies. bless them! and what's the advantage to all of this? the g-pass.

the international friendly family of faggots is so open, that as soon as you turn up in a new place, before you can say 'spit-roasted guinea-pig', you find yourself with a whole bunch of acquaintances that are as keen to share their lives with you as you are with them. i'm not saying that you've suddenly got friends - making friends takes time and is the same for everyone. but the g-pass gives you an incredible access point into local culture that i don't think exists in mainstream society. and this access point is a rapid-entry springboard into a whole load of amazing experiences.

some of you might say that hanging with gays is not experiencing real culture. i have two responses to this. the first is that if you think gays are not part of any country's real culture then you need to go and fuck yourself. the second is that things are not as easy for our rainbow brothers and sisters over here, and many are so far back in the closet that they're practically in narnia. when you turn up at gatherings of family and friends, you're just the friend - there's nothing gay about it - it's just a bunch of people from ecuador with the gringo that can't wait to meet everybody. this is one of the most rewarding aspects of travelling. after two weeks in cuenca, i've been going out to lunch and dinner with groups of young ecuadorians practically on a daily basis, partying with them, heading out to the mountains or to festivals, and just being alive in an ecuadorian way. the only gringo in sight is yours truly, and there aren't many gays involved either. but we are each others' access point, and this is a privilege. homosexuality is a gift from the gods. thank you gods.

you might say that this is not sexuality-specific, and you're right. but i think that a straight traveller turning up in a town and immediately moving in with locals and spending the next few weeks travelling, eating and living with them would be the exception rather than the rule. it happens - sure - but it just takes much more time. the g-pass speeds the whole process up. and if sexuality does play a role, then things can get messy, because let's face it: hetero relationships are complicated. i admit that it's got a lot to do with social conditioning, but let me be brazenly honest: i can't imagine a gringo boy turning up in an ecuadorian town, meeting a local girl and fucking her, then both of them admitting that it was fun but not amazing, and going out for dinner to have a laugh about it, before heading out to a club to flirt with other boys and girls together. this is not necessarily my personal experience, but i can easily imagine two gay-boys doing exactly this, and remaining good friends. but hey, boys can be complicated too. i met dude for a friendly dinner last week, in which i was pretty clear that i wasn't interested in anything but being friends. he wasn't either - and said so with pathos-laden sincerity - before attacking me in a nightclub a few days later in a jealous rage and biting my face. oh well, you win some and you lose some.

so that's what i've been up to. i'm living in an apartment at the back of my friend ivan's house, only a short walk from the centre of town and near a beautiful river. the apartment's cool, though the shower has only two settings - hypothermia and third degree burns, and the damn thing alternates at the slightest provocation. if a butterfly flaps its wings in fitzroy gardens, ondrej will be scalded in his shower in cuenca. i am trying to spend my days studying spanish as much as possible, because in one week i'm leaving cuenca and won't be able to study again for over a month. nonetheless, there are many adventures to be had and it's difficult to stop myself from just jumping right in (shout out to n). life is a real pleasure. i love studying, i love having new experiences, and quite frankly i love ecuador. the cuenca festival has just started - it will climax next week - and there are parties, lectures, traditional dances, cooking, concerts and all sorts of things happening every day. i'll be posting a few low-quality videos to my youtube channel if you're interested. it's a great time to be in this lovely city. it's a great time to be alive!

before i go, let me tell you about one of my little pleasures here in ecuador. the buses. in general, transport is wonderful. the roads are great, the buses are reliable and super-frequent, and all of the long distance buses have really comfortable reclining seats that you can practically lie down in. but it's the local buses that i love. and what i love about them is that they don't stop...they just slow down. of course this is not the case for little old ladies, but from time to time when i'm the only one at the bus stop the driver makes me leap onto a slowly moving bus, and i feel like james bond, or perhaps a mini-version: james bondy. but my favourite situation is when i'm already on the bus and it's slowing down at the bus stop that i want to get off at, and the doors swing open while the bus is still at full speed. the first time i waited until the bus was going super slow, but each time i get off, i leap out a little earlier. the last time i had to hit the ground at a full trot to avoid falling over. it was totally james bondy. it may not seem like much, but it's one of life's great pleasures. i leap out, trot on for a few metres, and then walk away with my head high, a great big grin on my face, and i can't deny it: i feel like the coolest person in the whole world ;) peace to you all!

alausí

many years ago, a train ran all the way from quito to the coast, and before the construction of ecuador's highways, was the economic lifeline of the country. ecuador is extremely mountainous, and one of the most treacherous aspects of the railway's course - el nariz del diablo, or the devil's nose - is a zigzag down a steep mountainside, a technological marvel at the time whose construction cost the lives of over 2500 people.

these days, the train is only open from alausí - the town just above el nariz del diablo - to a small station below, and is a tourist magnet. up until recently, one was able to enjoy the ride by sitting on the roof of the train, but the death of one or more foreigners put an end to that. rumours about what actually happened abound, but from all the stories i heard it seems clear that the tourist/s were japanese, and that either two of them fell off the train together and died in the chasm below, or a single japanese tourist was decapitated by an overhanging object as the train sped past. i prefer the decapitation story for the sheer drama.

i took a bus up on a thursday afternoon for an early friday start. the bus didn't enter alausí, and i was unceremoniously dumped on a highway about 1.5km above the town. some local kids showed me a secret short-cut path down the cliffside, and i realised straight away that i was going to have a good time.

the town itself is small but pretty, with colonial-type architecture and lots of beautiful people who had no problem posing for my camera. i was in photo-portrait heaven.

i spent most of the two days with a german dude from my hostel. a mechanical engineering student with a speech impediment and a penchant for play-station gaming, i had a nerdgasm as soon as we met, and knew that he would make great company.

the train took off at 0800am and thundered down the mountain at a top speed of 15kph. i can't deny that it was fun. the views were great, and at times the train seemed to be clinging to mere centimetres of terrain on a steep mountainside that dropped precipitously into the river below.

we arrived at the station at the bottom, and in a large shelter off to the left, there were a group of people dressed in traditional costume and dancing. i always have quite a visceral reaction to this sort of thing - it's so contrived, and puts me in mind of a coin-operated band or a dancing monkey. our tour guide commented: 'these people are from the communities that own the train line. they are not professionals, they just love to dance'. (ROFLMFAO).

i was trying to keep my distance from the dancers, but when i ducked in to get a good photo, i was seized by one of the ladies and hauled into the shelter for a bit of a boogey. alright, i'll admit it: as gimmicky as it all was, i lost myself to it, and spun that chick around the dancefloor like there was no tomorrow. she spun me around too, and before i knew it i had been bucked to the side in favour of someone else. i simply couldn't keep up with these people: they just loved to dance.

so i'm definitely giving the thumbs up to the whole nariz del diablo train ride tourist trap experience, and if they start letting you sit on the roof, i'd give it two thumbs up and call it unmissable. the mountains are glorious, the townfolk are wonderful, and the train has a rustic charm. one thing you do need to watch out for however is the group of indefatigable locals at the bottom of the train line: they just love to dance.

day trip #3: the ingapirca ruins

do you know what i love? living things: people, animals, cities, nature. do you know what i don't love? dead things. things that have been dead for centuries. welcome to ingapirca, the most important pre-colombian historical site in ecuador, and a place that is simply beyond boredom.

after 90 minutes' sleep secondary to a pretty wild night out, i hauled myself to the bus station last sunday morning for a trip to the ruins of this pre-incan town, about 2 hours from cuenca. alarm bells should have gone off when i found that i was the only gringo under the age of 60 on the bus, but in my torpor i was just barely able to crash-land in one of the seats and hibernate until we arrived.

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i don't have much to say about ingapirca. i stayed for an hour, and that was about 55 minutes too long. dont go there. trust me: don't go there. i will admit that perhaps for people who are really into this sort of thing, a visit to ingapirca may well be a revelation. to me, looking at the remaining rocks (the few which hadn't been carted off by the spanish centuries ago to build their cities - damn spanish stuffed up everything in this part of the world), i found myself feeling terribly unexcited. it failed my litmus test: can you get the same experience from looking at pictures of the destination in question on the internet. if yes, don't go. otherwise you may be putting yourself at risk of catatonic boredom.

the highlight of the day was a little town called cañar, at which is stopped off on the way home. there is an indigenous market there every sunday, and i was keen to take some photos of the market-goers. there were an inordinate number of very indigenous looking people with crystal blue eyes there. none of them allowed me to take a photo of them - they probably didn't appreciate me gawking at them in the first place - but i couldn't help myself: i was transfixed.

i love looking at people and love taking their photos even more. but it takes a lot of energy to take a secret photo and even more to be constantly rejected, so in my fatigued state, after about 25 rejections, i clambered back on a bus, tail between my legs, and headed home.

after a bit of sleep, i'd recommend the cañar market to anyone. ingapirca, however: two thumbs down.

day trip #2: el cajas national park

only an hour or so from cuenca, el cajas national park is a true gem in the crown of this beautiful region, and one of the most beautiful places i've been to in the world. i don't say this lightly...and i've been to a hell of a lot of places...

after a brief discussion with the delightful and passionate park rangers, ivan and i decided to scale the big fat mountain that towers above the central lake. the trail was relatively well marked - there were only a few episodes of relaxed bush-bashing - and within a few hours we were on the summit of the big fat mountain with 360 degree views over alpine mountains stretching to the horizon with dozens of lakes shimmering at their bases. it was (and dad i know you would like me to stop using the f word, but it's so versatile and expressive that i can't help myself) a fucking paradise.

i had met two dutch girls earlier in the week who had actually advised me not to go to the park because it was 'ugly and boring'. had they gone to the wrong park? were they blind? retarded perhaps? i'm not quite sure, because i was well and truly blown away.

coming back down the mountain we came to the lakeside. beautiful from a distance, it was infested with billions of carnivorous mosquitoes that rose up in a cloud so dense that i thought i was experiencing a solar eclipse, and i ran screaming for cover.

and that was day trip #2: a very very good day. two thumbs up and a shout out for el cajas national park: if you're in the area, don't miss it!

day trip #1: el chorro de girón

who likes going to see waterfalls? not me. i have the same ambiguous relationship with them as i do with live music. i like the sound of it, but i don't want to just stand there and look at it. i need to move. perhaps that's where i've been going wrong: i should have been dancing at these waterfalls.

ivan and i headed out to girón, a town ~ 35km from cuenca, from where we took a little truck up to the 'chorro', or 'jet'. a fat bastard at the entrance charged us $2 each to get in, and made us sign documents waiving our rights to any form of compensation if we got injured, in addition to making us promise not to go swimming 'because the water was over 5m deep'. i couldn't understand the link between depth and danger, but when i think about it, i've never seen an ecuadorian in an international swimming competition, so perhaps these people just sink.

a few minutes' walk through some scrub and we were there. it was pretty, and to spice things up a bit (much to my friend's delight/distress) i tore off my clothes and cast myself into the dangerously deep (and freezing) waters of the waterfall for some ecuadorian FKK. ahhh...it's good to get back into it...

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after playing with some llamas back at the entrance (or were they alpaca? i can never tell), we headed up to the second waterfall which the fat bastard said was inaccessible, dangerous, and couldn't be done without a guide. we must have done something radical by following the track that led us straight there. this track was much longer, a good hour or so, and passed over sweeping green fields of alpine goodness with panoramic views of the valley and beyond. it was lush, beautiful perfection. it's so damn good to get out into the mountains. and that's it for day trip #1. one thumb up for el chorro of girón.

i'm still walking

i always have mixed feelings about beggars in the first world, especially in australia. i'm stuck between that sense of empathy/compassion for someone whose life has gone pear-shaped for reasons beyong their control (whether they be socio-economic, mental health or otherwise), and that shirking-responsibility feeling of 'wft is our rich government doing with our tax money, surely they should be doing something rather than leaving it to chance generosity?' (with the emphasis on they should so that i can continue my day with a clear conscience)

developing countries, including ecuador, are different. i saw a woman in a mingy old half-broken wheelchair, stuck on the side of the road trying to shield herself from traffic because there was no graded entry point for the opposite kerb. i saw a young man with dense congenital cataracts who, for lack of a simple operation as a baby presumable spent his life singing for food on the trolleybus that i found him on, and then there was this (incredibly good-natured) man with dysplastic legs sitting on a skateboard at an intersection begging for money, because....what else can he do? the options aren't great. one realises that there's not a lot of cake in this country, and whatever cake there is, these guys are certainly not getting a slice. here you can unbridle your compassion, here you can not give enough, and whatever inadequate amount you do give (less than you could have given...less than you should have given...), you can still feel pretty good about it.

meeting people like this whose circumstances are so awful and whose only recourse is to beg on the street is the most powerful reality check you can get. here i was, a stupid rich gringo walking down the street, but when i met the guy on the skateboard, and crouched down to shake his hand, he took it with a firm grip and put his other arm around me and looked into my eyes with the biggest, most beautiful grin on his face and said 'buenos dias', and i just melted into a puddle right there and then, right there in front of him on the kerb. this man's reality cast light on my own, and helps me remember that despite my stupid weak leg and pain problems, not only am i still walking, but i've got it good. oh man: i've got it really, really good.

fear and loathing in quito

chewing gum vendor, quito

who sat next to the psychopath who got arrested as soon as we touched down in miami airport? i did!!! damn he was sexy though. i found myself fantasising about him between his crazy outbursts.

ice-cream vendors, quito old town

i tell you what though, 3 hours transit in miami were more than enough for me. perhaps it was the fact that i had just come from paris, but looking around at a terminal full of obese people with mismatched clothing and bad haircuts who simply didn't care what they looked like precipitated an acute episode of culture shock. i wanted to get one of those massive portable loudspeakers to make a general announcement "can i have your attention please americans! for the love of god, will you please just tidy yourselves up".

where's the fucking chicken?

through airbnb.com i had rented a room in the apartment of an ecuadorian lady living in the heart of quito new town, mariscal sucre. she was fun and lovely, but there was no denying she had a personality disorder. i arrived on a saturday night, but my bags didn't, so i reshuffled the clothing on my body to minimise the stench and after a few drinks with a swiss gringette, i headed out to dance all night at balzac, a gaybar packed to the rafters with ecuadorian faggots. it was a damn good night.

quito is not my favourite place in the world. it seems that everyone i've talked to has either been mugged there or had a good friend of theirs mugged. though nothing happened to me, after hearing all the stories and talking to locals, i quickly developed the fear. the streets, especially at night, are just barren and unfriendly, and you get the feeling that the city itself hates you. fucking ugly city. at one stage i walked a few kilometres north of my apartment to catch a film at a local cinema. i was actually stopped on the street by a local who told me that it was too dangerous and that i had better take a taxi or i'd be mugged, before wishing me 'good luck'. how reassuring. i took to stomping around like a psychopath in order to make people more afraid of me than i was of them.

but it wasn't all bad. once i had reined in my jetlag i was able to have some fun with gringos and locals alike, including the gay ex-pat cuban community which is so big that they've even got their own club for gay cubans (club magenta). who would have thought? shit those boys can salsa. you could break an egg on their buns. or fry one. i also got in some good hours of spanish study, and explored the old town, whose spanish-colonial architecture left me singularly unimpressed. the second best thing about quito is the geographic setting - a high valley between two mountains that have a suburban sprawl clinging to their bases and green cloud-covered peaks above. every morning i would look out my window at those wonderful peaks just before the clouds came rolling in over them. it was truly beautiful. for reference, the best thing about quito is the road out.

and so week #1 is over. i was about to take a 10 hour bus ride from quito to cuenca until i realised that i am a (comparatively) rich gringo with chronic back pain, and paying $30 more for a 50 minute plane ride was right up my alley as far as transport was concerned. my plan is to put my head down and study spanish 24 hours a day for the next three weeks. little success so far, but more about that later. i'm posting photos on instagram for all of you who have this iphone app (hello_ondrej is my name!), and am trying to post a photo a day to facebook, so watch out for those and let me know what you think!

hasta la vista baby