I love you like a mountain... -Timber Timbre

I have been here two weeks now and my prayers to get out of Quito were finally answered yesterday, if only for a brief period of time.

After a long walk to catch a bus at the top of the mountain I am currently living on and several hard stares later, we arrived at La Mitad del Mundo, a place where you can literally straddle the northern and southern hemispheres simultaneously (even though we found out later that the actual division was several hundred metres away from the official monument). For a few short moments we behaved like the tourists we had been criticizing for the past two weeks. What not to do became the thing to do, and soon we were jumping in the air, hoping we would be captured with all of our feet off the ground, suspended above the "middle of the world".

 Afterward, my friend Meg suggested that we go for a guided hike up a mountain to view a volcanic crater called the crater of Pululahua. The crater has one of the world's largest volcanic caldera with an average base diameter of 8 km.  It is also one of two in the entire world, which is populated and is primarily used by indigenous people for agricultural purposes. Its exact location is 0°04´N and 78°46´W, which locates itself almost right on the equator and some 20 km northwest of Quito.

Here is a picture of  our guide showing us a plant used by indigenous medicine men (called a Yachak in Kichwa) that we saw on our way up to view the crater. It is a hallucinogen, and our guide said to never eat more than 21. Victoria was brave enough to try one.

As a side note, it is important to remember that a “hike” in Ecuador, means that you are going up a mountain. Therefore, Birkenstocks are not the appropriate choice of foot wear. As we made are way up, our guide was kind enough to stop every few minutes to allow us to catch our breaths while he told us interesting facts about where we were and what we were about to see. I don’t know what I was expecting going on that hike…but not what I saw. When we reached a lookout point on the side of the mountain, it could have been the 400 meter drop that took my breath away, but mostly I think it was what greeted my eyes. The mountains opened up to reveal a vast amount of green land below us, patchy as a result of the farming practices taking place. Our guide said we were really lucky because normally the crater was cloud-covered, but today, the clouds seemed to be kept at bay by the mountains and our surroundings were clear.

We travelled a little further, through a tunnel of small bushes and trees to another lookout, a hundred times more precarious, but also that much more beautiful. After some pictures, our guide, who I believe was indigenous, told us that he always makes an offering before leaving the crater.  He pulled out his ocarina, and while we sat in silence, absorbing it all, he played a haunting song that echoed throughout the space around us. As he did so, the clouds that held off when we first got to the crater, began to slowly roll over top of the mountains, a slow and steady and sure arrival, enclosing the crater in an embrace of fog. I left that place feeling calm. Feeling moved by the simple beauty of nature. I needed this. If you are like me, when living in the city, any city, it feels as if bits of your soul are being smothered more and more each day by the smells and sights and sounds, too much for anyone’s senses to handle…until you are reminded that the country that you are in is beautiful, and that that beauty need only be sought out.

It has become clear to me that any happiness that I am seeking will not be found in this city. Seeing Pululahua reminded me of when and where I am happiest. When things amaze me. When I feel small. When I feel that humans are not merely existing upon the earth, but are a part of it. When I can feel as strong as a mountain.