Nobody gets in to see the Wizard. Not nobody.

Electric light on Chirimoyal.

Four A.M. in the valley of Chota. Darkness envelops all things, casting the mountains in dim outline against the sky. The water boils noisily on the stove, the only sound left. I pull on a warm camel-hair hat, pour a cup of coffee for myself and sit, staring out at the shadowy forms beyond the black mesh surrounding the kitchen, red nescafé cup steaming in my hands. The foundation trenches have been dug and the gravel infill filled in. It is time for the stone stem wall. One day has passed since the chief engineer of the province ordered Ingeniero Zapata to provide me with rocks from the excavation site.

The gate to the encampamiento appears deserted. I walk up to the hatch and bang on the steel door. I wait half a minute and bang again. To my left is a small guardpost jutting out from the monolithic concrete wall surrounding the encampamiento. The hatch in the guard-post slides open.

"How can I help you?" I turn left to face the unseen questioner.

"I would like to speak with Ingeniero Zapata."

"He's not here."

On the other side of the hatch a security guard in a bullet-proof vest with company insignia sewn over the right breast looks back at me. The time is not yet five A.M.: truth is still a relative thing.

"During a meeting with the chief engineer of the province two days ago at the MTOP headquarters in Ibarra, I was told me to meet Zapata here between four thirty and five in the morning."

"Let me go see."

The hatch closes. My hands are warm in the pockets of my vest. A hatch opens, the one beside the vehicular gate.

"Yes?" says a worker with a white helmet.

"I would like to speak with Ingeniero Zapata."

"About what?"

"About receiving a few dumptrucks of rocks from the road works near the old panamericana."

"What's your name?"

"Bartels."

"Wait here. Ingeniero Zapata is preparing the crew so he may be a while."

"I'll be here," I say, pointing to the pick-up.

The hatch slides shut.

From within the pickup cabin I watch the white cinder block change from black to grey.

"Hey!" The hatch beside the vehicular gate is open. The dawn quiet amplifies the sound of the pickup's doors opening with a heavy click and closing with a satisfying thunk. For the third time this morning I have a stranger's face.

"Well?" I ask.

"The Ingeniero says he can't spare any material."

"Look, do you know who Sofía Franco is?"

"The Ingeniera?"

"Yes, the same, head of the MTOP. I had a meeting with her two days ago and she had the chief engineer of the province call Zapata and tell him to give me the material I'm asking for. Please remind him of that."

"OK, I'll try telling him that..."

"Wait – could you just ask him to come over here and speak to me himself?"

"Wait here."

The vehicular gate-side hatch slides shut. The hatch in the guardhouse slides open.

"Who are you?" asks a security guard.

"I'm here to see Ingeniero Zapata," I say, turning to the left. "His boss called his cell-phone two days ago and ordered him to give me two dumptrucks of rocks from the road excavation by the old panamericana. My name is Bartels; I spoke directly with Zapata right here, two days ago at about this time."

"What do you need the rocks for?"

"For the foundations of a house I'm building."

"Where are you building?"

"On the old pana, just past where they are excavating."

"Ah, that's real close-by."

"Yes. Could bring Zapata for a moment? Just tell him who I am, he should know."

The hatch slides shut.

I kick at the lose gravel in front of the gate. The sun is beginning to rise. Metal rattles and the gate slides open. A white ministry pickup rolls out of the driveway, stopping before my pickup. A security guard walks over. How many security guards does the encampamiento employ? "Please move your pickup out of the way," he says, and points to a strip of bare earth between the encampamiento wall and the highway. I move my pickup and watch the gate close behind the ministry pickup. From within their pickup, one of the ministry men looks at me from under a yellow hat, and then their pickup turns onto the highway and is gone.

Dawn is a strange moment. The sun rises quickly while time passes slowly.

"Sir!" The gate-side hatch is open. I get out of the pickup and walk over.

"What's up?"

"I told Zapata what you said." Ah! At last, an acquaintance! I nod.

"He doesn't know who you are or what you're talking about."

"And I suppose he didn't receive a call from his boss the other day either?"

"That's right."

"Is there more than one Ingeniero Zapata here?"

"No sir, just the chief engineer."

"Can I speak with him please? If he's busy maybe you could let me in and I could see him in his office."

"I'm sorry, but Zapata has already left for the day."

"Well where can I find him?"

"I can't say – he drives around to all of the works in the region throughout the day. Your best chance is in the morning--"

"--between four and five-thirty?" I interject.

"That's right."

"Thank you," I say.

The hatch slides shut.

Zapata . . . !

A house must needs construction to be built. Just so hands must need work to construct. My hands, driving me all about in search of materials, were long in not doing construction work. For a second time in two days I visit the MTOP. This time however Ana, the secretary, lets me in to Sofía's office after a short wait. We exchange greetings.

"Did you receive the materials you needed?"

"No – Zapata said he neither remembered me, nor the phone call the chief engineer made to him – but I don't know, they didn't let me speak directly to Zapata."

"Hmm... In that case, you'll have to submit a written petition for materials, signed by the director of the NGO you are working with, yourself, and me."

"You'd sign something like that?"

"Sure, it's not a problem if we have the signature of the director of you organisation. We can't give materials and services to private individuals, but to organisations, yes."

"Alright! – thank you so much! I'll go prepare a petition for materials with the organisation. Will you be in this afternoon?"

"I'm here from three to four-thirty."

"OK – I'll come by between those hours for your signature."

"See you later."

"See you later, Sofía – and thanks!"

Kafkaphony- May 2013

Meanwhile we managed to take care of some administrative business during a trip back to Quito. We signed up for healthcare with Ecuasanitas at $127 a month, which includes $25,000 life insurance, plus $7 per person per month for dental coverage and $5 total per month for ambulance coverage, which makes $146 per month to cover us three. I filed for an Ecuadorian replacement for my US license and I thought I would be taking the theoretical and psycho-sensory tests a week and a half later. I also thought that drivers are permitted only 90 days after their date of entry driving with a foreign license.

Quito - scenic view of the old city

I recently returned to Quito to enquire about the state of my application. On my first visit to the ANT office on the other side of the city I lost myself in the city streets and arrived an hour and a half after leaving the notorious driveway at Andres and Caroline’s house. When I finally arrived I queued in line for the license desk and upon consultation I was told to take my query to the international license branch on the second floor (first floor, for my European friends). Happy was I to see that the international license branch was almost empty. Happy was I to be seated by an agent almost immediately after stating my business. I explained my situation to her, she left for a moment to verify the status of my application, she returned. And then she shattered my happiness. My visa, she explained, only had two weeks left on it. The ANT would not issue me a driver’s license for such a short time. I kindly asked her to explain what the hell she meant by saying that I only had two weeks left on my visa. She pulled the copy of my visa approval from my application file and showed me the date listed as “REGISTRATION OF VISA”: November 25, 2012. The Visa was for 180 days and, she elucidated, my visa would expire on May 24. I protested. I showed her my passport with the actual Visa in it and handwritten thereupon, in the line “Date of Expiry,” 03/AUG/2013. She demurred. Why would the ministry of foreign affairs assign two differing dates? The date of expiry is 180 days from this date here, November 25, 2012, on this paper. I contested. November 25, 2012, is the date I applied for a visa at the Ecuadorian embassy in Brussels, and consequently the date the visa was approved. 

Quito - Virgin of the Apocalypse

I reflected that the efficiency of the administration at the embassy in Belgium seemed ironic in the present moment, but I didn’t say that. We continued like this for half an hour before I gave in. Very well, I said, but could she give me the maximum amount of time I was allowed to drive in Ecuador with a foreign license? Only 70 days? Was she positive it isn’t 90 days, as I had been told by traffic police and is listed on the US Department of State website for travellers visiting Ecuador? Oh, she is positive? And is there anything I can do between now and when I come back with a new visa, as she suggests I do, to continue driving? No? Despite that I’ve bought a car, that the administrative approval for a new visa might very well take months, was there nothing I could do? No. And if two weeks is now too short a period to issue me a visa for, could she tell me what the minimum period was, so I could be sure to know for how long at least I had to renew my visa? There is no minimum? There must be a law, or a rule the ministry follows when considering cases? No? Each case is decided by a panel and the panel determines the minimum? And does the panel have a general rule for minimum duration of visa? No? Is two weeks too short? Yes? Two months? Maybe? I see. Goodbye, señorita. I left the ANT completely dejected.

The following day, after talking with Caroline and then with Valentine’s nanny Rita about the best strategy to pursue, and with Sandra who convinced me I was after all right about the expiry date, I returned to the ANT. This time I arrived in twenty minutes. On the second-floor I was escorted into the back offices of the international license branch and seated before a high-level official. He took one look at my application and said “Oh yes, I remember you from yesterday.” I explained my case to him and he began to offer the same protest which had been so sour to me the day before. I interrupted immediately and explained politely but firmly that every foreigner who enters the country with a visa has to register hat visa with the ministry of foreign affairs within the first month of their stay in the country, during which process the ministry activates the visa and registers an expiration date starting from that activation. The date of registration for a visa on the other hand has no relation to the expiration date and, I continued, how little sense it would make to apply for a visa while abroad only to loose time off of your permitted stay for each day you remained abroad. He listened, we discussed, and then he took my passport and application, I imagine to a panel, for review. 

Quito - scenic view of Guapulo

Three minutes later he returned and explained that the agency had interpreted the date of application as the date of activation and therefore had assumed May 25 as the date of expiry. If, however, what I said was true -- and he would verify immediately with an e-mail to the ministry of foreign affairs, so if I could provide him with a phone number to contact me at several hours later -- then the panel would reconsider my application in light of this new development. But, he wanted to know, why did you want a drivers license now if you’ll have to apply for another license and pay the administrative fees again in two months when you have a new visa? How else, I calmly questioned, am I to continue to drive during these two months? What do you mean, he asked. But I’m only allowed to drive 70 days with a foreign drivers license. What? Or is it 90 days -- I don’t know, your colleague yesterday told me 70 but I’ve heard 90 from police officers and I’ve seen 90 online. No, no, he said, with a foreign drivers license you’re allowed to drive for 6 months -- 180 days, exactly the length of your visa. Oh. Could I have a print out of that law, please? Sure I can? Thank you, have a nice day.

You can take the boy away from the non-polluting transportation methods...- April 2013

There are three grades of 4x2 Mazda double-cabin pick-up trucks for sale in Ecuador. All of them fall under the BT-50 label, all of them are the same length and have the same interior, which brings the difference to engine and horsepower. The cobalt-blue 2011 model parked outside our bedroom at Ana Lucia’s house in Ibarra has 98hp.

Ibarra - Car dealership

We had been looking for a car since our arrival, but it wasn’t until almost a month ago that we went out to some dealerships in Ibarra looking for a model which would suit us. I knew more-or-less what we wanted: a double-cabin pickup of a recent enough model to have driver and passenger-side airbags, in relatively good condition. 4x4 engines are several thousand dollars more expensive than 4x2 engines here, and while there are some steep roads in Quito nothing in our everyday routine requires the power and traction of a 4x4. Chevrolet, Ford, Toyota and Mazda have factories in Ecuador or neighboring countries, so as far as maintenance and ease of resale are concerned they are all good buys. The Ford and Toyota pickups cost more new, however their rarity relative to the ubiquitous Chevrolets and Mazdas lowers the resale value. We were looking for Chevrolets and Mazdas.

There is no Spanish word for “refurbished” in the Ecuadorian automotive industry. When an owner wants to sell their car they bring it to a dealership (irrespective of mark) where mechanics inspect the mechanics. If the vehicle is damaged to the extent that its legal operation would be impossible, I suspect the owner pays for repairs or foregoes a significant percentage of the resale price in lieu of paying. If the damage is not immediately apparent, the owner can choose a third path: reclaiming the car from the dealership and attempt to sell it on their own through mercado libre or one of the other classified websites used in Ecuador. Often this path of resale involves tampering with the odometer to lower its reading. Andres and Caroline had the pleasure, to the sum of $2,000 in post-sale repairs, of purchasing their Chevrolet Grand Vitara from an owner who chose the third path. (refresher: Sandra is my partner, her sister Caroline is married with Andres, they have a 2-year-old son, Valentin).

Every car dealership in Ibarra is located on either side of the main route into and out of the south of the city. The first dealership we visited there had two used (“segundo mano” -- second hand) Chevrolet double-cabin pickups, both with over 100,000 kilometers and asking prices over $15,000. The pickups were well used and the tires looked in need of replacement. At about $200 per tire that would have been $1,000 extra, including service. We thanked the salesperson and headed south and across the route to a Toyota dealership where we could see several segundo mano pickups in the fenced-off lot. The first pickup shown to us looked worse for the wear and had the same tire problems as the previous two pickups. As we prepared to leave the salesperson let us now that the dealership had a 2011 model in very good condition, and it would be in the lot the following day.

We were all immediately interested in the Mazda pickup. Two years old, 48,000km (~30,000 miles) on the odometer, exterior and interior almost spotless, barely any scratches on the bed: a trade-in by the owner to finance an upscale purchase. For $19,500 it was $5,000 less than a brand-new model, and the excellent condition was enticing. After a call to Andres to make sure the price was right for the year and mileage, I said I’d take it. When we arrived in Quito the next day, after my first highway driving in Ecuador (much more comfortable and scenic than by bus), Andres told us that his friend who works at the dealership hadn’t been there the previous day. That friend later had told him that, personally, he wouldn’t have paid more than $17,000 for the car. As a first time car owner, I was happy with that figure as a “could-have-done better” amount.

Lita - driving through a foot

and a half of mud flooded roads

The pickup, being significantly longer, was at first far more unwieldy than the small sedans I learned to drive in, but several weeks later I’m comfortable enough to parallel park, reverse out of the sloping driveway at Andres and Caroline’s house in Quito, and thread the pickup through the gates of Ana Lucia’s driveway into a position where it doesn’t block her garage. More importantly, I’m comfortable driving in the chaos of Ecuadorian traffic.

There are plenty of traffic signals in Ecuador. Observing the manner of driving in the country, one wonders why they bothered to put in a single one. Traffic signals, legal priority, passing lanes: practical jokes on the novice driver. The surest way never to arrive anywhere in Quito is to obey the traffic signals. In the beginning, this manner of driving scared me because I couldn’t understand the underpinning logic. How to predict what the other cars will do; in other words, how to drive defensively? I observed traffic when Andres would drive us to the grocery store and gradually I began to understand. Traffic in Ecuador is completely logical. It follows skate-park logic. The logic of the flow between multiple skaters in a skate-park is this: no one follows any set rules of flow, everyone pays attention to the area around them at all times and (usually) everyone conducts themselves to avoid collisions between their person and foreign bodies. Replace “person” with “vehicle” and you have the logic of traffic in Ecuador. Put simply, all drivers here drive defensively. One learns to expect other drivers to nose-in at roundabouts and quickly learns that if one does not use the nose of one’s car as a traffic jam one will get nowhere, fast. This logic works for the sole reason that everyone obeys it; in New York, where some drivers obey the logic of traffic signals and other drivers obey a logic of chaos and disrespect, driving feels much more dangerous. Gradually, I find myself more at home driving under these conditions than in New York or even the over-ordered streets of Brussels and France. So comfortable now am I, that we’ve been able to purchase more materials in Ibarra and transport them to Chota, speeding up our building and allowing us to complete the interior electric system.

Under the mango tree - March 2013

Chota valley - back yard

Ibarra, the nearest city to Chota, is approximately 400km (258 miles) north of Quito. I have been there three times, most recently on Monday, accompanied by Oscar, Sandra's father, to purchase supplies for restoring the old brick and concrete house we will be staying in until we complete the construction of a new naturally-built house. Guillermo, Sanda's sister's husband's father, is an architect and he had called Patricio, a worker whom he regularly contracts, to see if he would be interested in working for us, which he was, so Ana Lucia, Sandra's sister's husband's mother, took all four of us -- herself, Patricio, Oscar and I -- around Ibarra to find the necessary supplies.

Chota valley - roof damaged 
by overgrown mango tree

The restoration consists mostly of cleaning and repairing minor damage, sealing small holes in the walls, the ceiling and beneath the doors in order to keep bugs out, and replacing window glass. The complete list of supplies, which we were able to purchase for a total of $300 dollars, is: glass cut to measure for the windows ($33,00); light switches and electrical outlet ($13,38); paint ($99,10); fibrocement boards for covering up unused doorways ($30,65); cement and black silicon sealant ($64,78); screws ($2,80); water pipes including connectors, shoulders, and faucet ($12,05); german locks for the doors ($20,19); and a rented scaffolding ($6,25). In addition there were three or four other purchases, such as sand for the cement, that didn't have receipts. Though the list is short there were a lot of matierials and we could not possibly have fit all of them inside Ana Lucia's chevrolet station wagon. Instead we hired a pickup for $20 to transport us from Ibarra to the worksite in Chota, and from there caught the bus back to Quito at the end of the day.

Chota valley - restoration pantry 

Manual labor in Ecuador works on a week-based system. There is no estimate up front, just a figure representing a weekly price. That amount doesn't change if work is added or unseen problems crop up, however if the added work is too much to complete in one week an additional week must be paid or unfinished work be left to bear. For us, for this restoration, Patricio's fee was $150, bringing our total expenditures to $470.

A quick note about the property. As of today there is no connection to any utility on the property itself. The utility companies are obliged by law to draw lines as far as the property limit if we ask them, which we have, and I suspect the connections will be up by the end of this month. Provided that this is the case, we will have to hook up the plumbing and electricity ourselves before moving into the house.

There will be other work for us as well considering we have either to make or buy furniture (simple shelving, bed frames) and build a frame for mosquito grille around the outdoor kitchen area, which under the current plan is the rear veranda with a view taking in the other side of the valley across the river and the mountains beyond. It is such a beautiful view as I have never had before from a kitchen.

Chota valley - restoration roof

This Friday Oscar and I will be returning to Chota to view the restorations and pay Patricio. The trip is a long one to make three times in a week (besides Monday I was down on Saturday to meet Patricio, explain the work we wanted him to do, and make a list of measurements and materials) so thankfully between the taxi to the north station of Quito and the bus from Quito to Ibarra the price is only $15 round-trip. The distance is far from the hardest part: the serpentine mountain roads and large altitude change (1,000m / 700 miles plus) are much more difficult to bear. The bus ride always twists my stomach into knots and recently Oscar told me he felt sea-sick as we climbed up the highway to Quito on Monday's return trip. At least from the bus-seats one cannot see out beyond the windshield. Ana Lucia drove us to Ibarra Sunday night and we left Quito just as the mountain mists began to roll over the highway. For the entire trip we could not see more than a few dozen meters ahead, shorter still in headlight glare from oncoming traffic, and where the mist was thick we had to squint at the reflectors to mark the lanes. All of which would have been much less frightening off of the winding mountain roads with endless U shaped corners swerving around obscured precipices.

Chota valley - restored main room

I have a lot more I want to tell about the land in Chota, the people we have met, the conditions of our project, how it feels to be doing this… For now however this will serve as a first update. I fear I have not been practicing my writing as I ought to have been and this text is horribly chaotic and makes for difficult reading. If you have any questions about anything, related to the update or otherwise, please ask them as your curiosty leads you and I will try my best to include an answer in the next update or in direct reply to you. I apologise for the time it has taken me to write such a simple thing. I foolishly expected to have enough time to care for an infant, watch a toddler, study spanish, practice saxophone, take care of myself and Sandra, manage the restoration of the house in Chota, complete the visa application process, look for a car, find a healthcare provider, and write.