Sunday, April 16, 2006

It's Easter Sunday and we were surprised to find that absolutely nothing is going on. We expected the shops and most of the restaurants to be closed, but we figured the churches would be doing a booming business. Not so, at least not in our neighborhood. Random businesses are open, but the streets are deserted and the churches seem to be shut tight. Happily, the homey little restaurant where we learned about fanesca is open.

Unhappily, fanesca is over. But the chicken soup we got as a first course was very good too. The only other patrons were a small crowd of men who'd decided to celebrate the rising of our Lord Jesus not with prayer or colored eggs, but with multiple Pilsner grandes. They spoke to us when we came in, but we were a bit wary of them and sat down at a far off table. Which of course is not saying much in a restaurant comprising six tables. But they left us alone as we ate.

After we ate and got up to pay our bill of $2, they started talking to us again. Though generally groups of drunken men make me nervous, these guys were pretty nice. The ringleader asked Michael if he believed in Christ. Or perhaps he was asking if Michael had seen the movie The Passion of the Christ. We're not sure. But Michael nodded tentatively. Then the guy said something that made the whole restaurant burst into laughter.

We smiled along, confused but trying to be good-natured.

"I think he's saying you look like Moses," I said.

"Moises! Moises!" agreed our new friend. Everyone laughed some more.

Then some other guy captured Michael in conversation and our friend started talking to me. He wanted to know how to say "linda" in English (pretty), and where we were from. When I told him New York, he got excited for a moment, looking around for a New York poster on the wall, but there wasn't one. He said he had family in the US, something we hear a lot. He asked me how old I was, and when I told him thirty, he said I looked seventeen. (Which could have to do with the fact that I'm about three years away from having children, just like an Ecuadorian seventeen-year-old. It seems that around here Michael and I are a little old to still be childless and shacking up.)

Finally we left, after shaking hands all around. Then we popped back in to take a couple of photos, for which there was much enthusiasm. Everyone gathered round to see the image on Michael's camera. That's the really nicest thing about digital cameras, I think. People, and by people I don't just mean "technology-deprived locals," I mean all people, really get a kick out of seeing those tiny images of themselves right away.

We were extremely happy when we left the restaurant. I don't think I've ever met a nicer bunch of rowdy drunken men. And on Easter, no less.

 

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Our buddies from the restaurant. The one in red is the one who reckons Michael looks like Moses. Cuenca.

Mmm, Cuenca.