Inti Raymi

Here in Ecuador (as well as other parts of the former Incan Empire), the celebration of the summer solstice is a big deal.  Last year we went to a festival in Ingapirca, some Cañari/Incan ruins a few hours north of Cuenca.  This year we went to Chobshi, another town about an hour away from Cuenca that is known for a cave where a prehistoric culture lived and a ruined pre-Incan castle.

Last year we walked around the ruins and watched local groups perform traditional dances.  The weather was beautiful.  This year was a bit different.  We ended up getting our auras cleansed by some hippies in a castle in the rain.

World Cup Commentary

I've spent almost the entire past week watching football.  I mean soccer.  I think I saw (at least most of) 15 of the 23 games so far.  Here are a few things I learned:

The Hora

No, that's not bad Spanglish. It's a Jewish dance.

And I think that we effectively tripled or quadrupled the population of Jews in Cuenca for our wedding.

The dance is easy. You join hands and go around in a circle, doing a grapevine. Sometimes you change directions. Occasionally you expand or contract the circle. That's about it.

I do have a nice video of the dancing, but it just won't seem to upload :(  I hope photos will do.

Cocktail Hour

In Judaism there is a specific part of the wedding that is called the Yichud, i.e., seclusion, after the ceremony in which the bride and groom have some time alone together.  I believe that back in the day it was the time to, um, consummate the marriage.  But now it seems to be used as snack time.

So, after the ceremony Carlos and I had a few minutes to ourselves.  I really mean a few minutes because we were sitting in his parents suite sipping champagne and nibbling on some meats and cheeses when some young nephews barged in through the back door.  I yelled at them to get out.  It wasn't actually a yell, but more like a very strong suggestion to go away and leave us alone.

Unrecognizable

Our apartment has wood floors in the bedrooms.  They are unsealed.  That means you can't just run a mop over them - you need to wax them.  And I don't do floors.

One of my most vivid memories of my vacations to visit family in South Africa when I was growing up, was to see my grandparents' maids on their hands and knees waxing the wood floors in the morning.  Every morning.  And I would wonder why they just didn't vacuum.  Now I know why.