Viva Quito!

Last night was the final day of celebration in Quito.  Each year, from December 1 to December 6th, the people of Quito take to the streets for a festival like no other I have ever seen.  Each night, I have fallen asleep and woken up to live music and fireworks outside my window.  Each park in the city features different attractions and crowds.  Vendors with delicious (and inexpensive) food compete for your business, while children play soccer and parents drink candelazo, a traditional Ecuadorian hot beverage full of different spices and a little alcohol.  At night, the streets are lined with young Ecuadorians, extremely intoxicated.  Large buses have full bands, complete with a horn section and multiple percussionists on the roof, while the people on the lower level dance and drink.  From the restaurant I work in, it is likely that I will see fifteen or twenty to these buses roll by in a few hours. 


Being the 6th of December (also the name of my street), it is tradition that the people of Quito play a card game called corenta.  It is a really fun game, similar to a mix of yuker and canasta. I was invited to play with the family that owns the restaurant.  We sat at tables of four, six tables in total.  I started out strong, but in the end, experience out weighed beginners luck and I was taken down.  Either way, it was a ton of fun and I am excited to bring it back to the states and teach my friends and family.  After the game, I went home and fell asleep.  I went out with some friends from the restaurant to celebrate on the 5th and had little energy left for the 6th.  Here is what I wrote when I got home the night of the 5th.  I hope it gives you a bit of an idea of what the festival is really like.  Cheers.

The music was loud. 

In my stomach, I could feel the bass drum turning the candelazo over itself.  Being the only gringo, I was getting looks from many of the people standing in the crowd, all with darker skin than I.  The girls looked at me with mystery, the men with disapprovement.  Once or twice, I would feel the weight of too many eyes surrounding me from different sides.  Trapped.  I would walk away to new eyes.  

Broken bottles, some still with the warm yellow alcohol, litter the street like debree after a hurricane.  The glass punctured the bottom of my sneekers.  It was worse for the people too drunk to walk with out falling.  

A man tried to drive a passed out friend home.  The motorcycle swayed until it hit the curb, dropping both men into a sidewalk covered in piss.  The stench was everywhere.

Short native women walked around selling cigarrettes and gum.  many had babies wrapped up and sleeping around their necks.  Vendors lined the street.  The strong smell of hot spices and alcohol brewing together masked the urine and sweat.  

On both sides of the stage, set right in the middle of an intersection of two major streets, people danced, swinging hips and clapping hands to the beat.  Even at 4 in the morning, the footwork was impressive.  Young couples made out while the gray haired reminissed and danced off to the side of the sea of people.  

I sit back, watching.  I wonder, who cleans this all up?  Do the neighbors sleep at all tonight?  How long will these people have the energy to dance and drink?  I get my answer when the DJ announces proudly (in Spanish, of course)"We will dance until 7 in the morning!" I guess they still have a few hours to go.  

I look at the watch my father gave me the day before leaving, 419am.  I look at the stage. 'Buienviendas al Poloniazo' bannered over it.  I can smell the drinks, the piss, the sweat.  Everyone is happy.  I am happy.  I am in Quito on December 5th, dancing in the streets, celebrating the independence and foundation of this city.  Everywhere I look is bright shinning color.  My mind is blown.