Streets of Quito

A wee story about the joys of volunteering in another country. Rather than traveling. Even as a backpacker… And by “volunteering” I mean: living and working with people. That’s all.

So it was Thursday at the school, with the group of teachers from Boston, and the kids were deep into a long project of decorating the lifesize paper versions of themselves. Gluing bits of paper, cutting out shoes and earrings, drawing eyelashes… they were intensely focused and absorbed. So I wandered into the street outside the school. Hola!

This one had fabulous colors — and some ladies later emerged.

All along the outside wall (a tall, pale, ugly concrete wall), a bunch of artists were set up and deep into making fantastic murals. Really. Beautiful. All different, all lovely, all creative and world-class.

Different color palette is because she makes her paints from worms. I am not making that up.

Which by itself is something to see. Artists deep in the process of creating. Like, in the span of half an hour, they’d lay down a whole new layer of paint and color and meaning.

Spray paint never looksed so good, so fast.

See? Fast!

So I’m taking pictures, feeling lucky that I got to see this, when the directora of the school wanders out and starts to tell me about it. How Ecuador doesn’t do enough to support the arts, she thinks, but they did do this.

There’s a foundation that does supply some funding. She’d requested their help. They put out the call to artists. The artists sent in their sketches (dibujos! love that word), they decided on the best ones, they paid the artists to show up at the wall and make it real.

She tells me about the artists who makes her own paints out of worms from the jungle. About the artist who’s helping the kids from the school paint their section of the wall.

Dibujo…

Painting from dibujo…

Then she takes me across the street to an art gallery, and introduces me to the owner, who then gives me the guide to the photographs in her gallery, lets me photograph the kids in the store, and then gives me a little package containing tiny versions of the photographs.

Now this is like my favorite moment of the trip so far. I’m happy about Ecuador, the artists, the director, the gallery, the worms, the kids covered in paint… And it feels like this perfect moment of being allowed in: someone drew back the curtain for me, and let me walk into this street, this school, this day, and took my hand to show me around.

The next day is a little cream on top: when we arrive in the morning, the produce market is set up in front of all the still-materializing murals. The chicken feet in front of the artists. The piles of bananas with the kibuki face.

And now look at it!!

Overall, Quito doesn’t have a LOT to recommend it (IMHO, I mean, it’s lovely and full of interesting things! and the people are CHEVERE); but that street, on that day, even with the rain and the clouds and the cold — was perfecto.

Flowers!

Chicken feet!

Fruit with your art!

Zanahorias!