Fincalegre and journeys con nuestras Madres!

Bus rides.  They escape description because the nausea, discomfort, alternating heat/cold are not worth conveying in more than a passing phrase.  40 hours later, we had gone from Medellin almost 1500 KM to Montanita – a small town on the Pacific coast of Ecuador.  We met Mario, Claire’s uncle, and had the privilege of staying with Mario’s friend (also named Mario), who built one of the first houses in this now bustling tourist town.  The waves at Montañita attract thousands of tourists every year, and when we arrived there happened to be a surf competition, which of course increased the number of tourists (who seemed to surpass the number of locals). 

Alex and Mario in Montañita

While this isn’t our normal form of travel, staying with Claire’s uncle and his son, and having the opportunity to hang out with their local friends in this overwhelmingly tourist location made us feel privileged to know locals and feel that we were connecting in subtle and different ways.  After a wonderful week of sun and surf, beach and family, we headed north to Los Bancos for a WOOFing opportunity at a farm called Fincalegre.

We arrived in Los Bancos around 1 PM, and were soon picked up by a half American, half-Colombian in his late thirties/early forties named Steve.  Steve had a short, gray scruff with short, salt-and-pepper hair, ray-ban spectacles, and a kind, disarming smile.  Steve was very friendly with us, and told us a bit about the farm as we bought supplies and he negotiated in perfect Spanish with the shopkeeper.  Fincalegre had been purchased by Steve and his fiancée's father about 9 months prior from an American woman, who had made the farm her life’s work and had planted over 70 varieties of fruit trees – both endemic and exotic.

After harvesting the plethora of  fruits on the farm.

We were excited to work with Steve, who had a contagious enthusiasm for the project and casually let us know that, due to the on-going construction at the Finca, we would be staying in the luxury matrimonial guest cabin.  Steve explained that one other WOOFer, Miles, had arrived 2 days previously and was staying in the other matrimonial cabin.  We were, to say the least, excited.

We arrived to the farm to see the lodge: an elaborate, large wooden house with a 360-degree balcony and flowers and fruit trees, well-manicured grass, and the beautiful backdrop of bamboo forests.  After touring this ‘main cabin’, and meeting Miles and Tanya (an Ecuadorian tourism graduate employed by Steve to help establish eco-tourism at Fincalegre), we were shown to our cabin. 

 About a 10-minute walk from the main lodge, we danced through the jungle on our way to the wooden cabin which would be our home for the next three weeks.  Our cabin was just down the hill from the cabin which Miles was using, and was serene, private, and beautiful (Steve let us know that clients would soon pay at least $100 a night to stay there). These cabins had been recently renovated, including the installation of small fireplaces where we could light woodfires and complete the ambiance of soft rain on the rooftop and the buzz of hummingbirds playing the base in the band of birds and insects playing the most beautiful music in the world.  Suffice to say, we had “upgraded” from the tent we lived in for a month at the first finca where we worked.

Cacao

We slept serenely after a night of small talk.  One crazy fact:  As we were leaving La Fruta (some 3,000 km away), Claire and I had stumbled upon a young American who looked weary and lost, coming up the hill.  We directed him to La Fruta, as he thought he was lost and had passed the farm.  We assured him it wasn’t much further (he seemed to need the encouragement). This was Miles (Emilio as he liked to be called).  Incredibly, our paths had crossed again, and we compared stories and laughed at the uncanny meeting.  We wondered aloud why the universe had brought us once again together and what we might have to learn from each other.  Steve seemed to love having Americans around, as he was living by himself previously, and while he was born in Colombia, making his first language was Spanish, was still very American in many ways.

The next day, we began our work of cleaning the innumerous fruit trees.  This involved “crowning” the trees (clearing leaves and grass under them to allow the moisture to escape), and pulling off the moss that had grown on all the trunks, leaves, and branches.  The work was meditative, and we enjoyed speaking with Tanja, Norma (the Finca’s main worker), and Miles.  The work was necessary because the exotic fruit trees had been planted in what was now a rainforest, and what – in a few months – would become a cloud forest.  It rains every day at Fincalegre, and in the winter months, the whole jungle is encompassed in cloud and mist.

After a half-day’s work, Steve offered us the tour, and guided us to the back of the farm.  There, we found a pristine stream which was peppered with deep, crystal clear pools and cascading, blissful waterfalls.  We swam, ducked behind waterfalls, jumped a few cliffs, and even found a natural vine which could be used to swing from the waterfall into the accompanying pool.  All of us took some time to meditate on this incredible place, full of thanks for Steve, who showed us the place, and of course Pacha Mama (Mother Earth) who made this place and our own existence possible.

After a day of "shopping", harvesting fruits on the farm.

The walk back had us soaked with a delightful, cooling rain.  When we arrived back at the cabins, we changed out of our wet clothes and rested a bit.  We decided not to make a fire, as we would be leaving for dinner pretty soon.  We walked to dinner delighted at the day, and helped prepare a wonderful meal which we shared over wine and candlelight.  After a few glasses and a wonderful conversation, heightened by the backdrop of the jungle music, and the amazing day that we had all shared together relieving trees of unwanted moss and rejoicing our way through the tropical rainforest, the energy was incredible.  We were all so happy, so contented, so blissful.

 

Around 11 we decided to call it a night, and the three of us (Miles, Claire and I), walked back to our cabins.  After about 5 minutes walking, away in the distance we saw a soft, orange glow coming from the east.  “Strange,” Claire said, “that almost looks like the moon, but it’s a new moon and there should be no light” (the moon is and incredible center of agriculture in many South American cultures, as the energy omitted from the moon greatly affects plant energy and dictates proper planting, harvesting, and weeding times for specific types of plants).  Indeed, we agreed, this could not be the moon.Suddenly, Miles’ eyes grew large as he flew into a panic.  “My towel!  I left it hanging to dry over the furnace!”  Claire stood incredulously.  I tried to calm him – come on Miles, we had a few drinks, you’re overreacting, it must be something else.

But he was already in full sprint towards to the cabins.  Claire jogged behind, and I waited to see what would come.  Sure enough, after about a minute, Claire yelled back to me “Fire!  Fire!  The cabin’s on Fire!” 

Which cabin?  I ran back to the lodge to tell Steve, and I can’t help feeling guilty but I must admit – the whole time I was hoping it wasn’t the cabin we were staying in, assuring myself that there was no way we had burnt anything.  I made it out of breath to the lodge, and told Steve.  “There’s a cabin on fire!”

“That’s impossible!” he said. 

“I know, but its happened!”

I ran back to the cabins.  As I climbed the hill, I saw that it was in fact Miles’ cabin.  The walls had already burned, and the structure was steeped in flames, licking over the metal roof and spewing embers into the heavens.  I remember being surprised at the sound.  The whirl and pulse of the fire could be heard and felt from a long way away, like a demon’s breath.  Miles was frantic, running around the cabin trying to figure out something to do.  He had already burnt his had – he had seen a faucet handle and tried to open it, singing his had in the effort.  He was in shock.  We stared disbelievingly.  Claire gave Miles, who was on the verge of fainting, a big and well-needed hug. 

I consulted with Claire, who told me we needed to stay calm and make sure that Steve would be okay.  We had just met the guy – who knew what he would do to Miles when he saw what had happened?  It felt like hours of waiting, the long moments of intense stress and pressure drawn out with thoughts and emotions, anticipation.  Steve arrived, and Miles told him what happened.

“It’s all gone Steve and it’s all my fault!” cried Miles.

“What do you mean? All of it!?” Replied Steve with surprising calm.

“I BURNED IT DOWN STEVE!  DOWN TO THE GROUND!” Yelled Miles, “I’ll do anything I can to make it up to you!”

To Steve’s credit, he stayed admirably tranquil.  He approached the cabin, and watched by our sides.  We agreed that, due to the rain that had continued to pour from the sky since our earlier walk, and the green, wet plants surrounding the cabin, the fire would not spread.  An attempt at extinguishing the fire spreading to the stairs with the household fire extinguisher quickly proved (in an almost comically inadequate fashion), that this fire would not be squelched.

There was nothing to do but watch; to step back, and admire the power of the demon.  We learned the lesson: be VERY careful with fire!  It was the most impressive inferno any of us had ever seen.

Periodically, roof supports would give way as their strength was conquered by the flames, and the iron sheets they once supported clattered and crashed to the ground.  After about an hour of admiring, grieving, absorbing, appreciating, we headed to bed.  There was nothing else to do.

Steve watches calmly while the cabin burns to the ground.

The next day, Miles went with Steve to Quito to recover his traveling life – all of Miles’ clothes, possessions, money, passport, etc. had burned to oblivion.  So had his spirits.  Steve handled the situation with incredible composure, and even lent Miles money until he could recover some of his own.  Miles left promising to return to help pay back the damage he had done.  We did not know what to think, or how his unskilled labor could make up for a $20,000 (at least) cabin. 

The bamboo planter beds that we made with new baby beets!

The rest of our two weeks at Fincalegre passed in the shadow of the event.  We continued working, cooking, and enjoying our time with Tanja.  She has incredibly positive energy, and when we spoke with her about her dreams of living on her parents’ organic farm and living in unison with nature with her partner Jorge, it gave us hope that others have aspirations for simplicity and connection. Miles never returned, and we don’t know what became of his agreement, as he did not contact Steve during that time.  We hope that everything has been resolved between them.

Saying goodbye to Tanja

Steve seemed to generally appreciate our work, but given the circumstances, it also seemed that his days of hosting WOOFing volunteers had ended as soon as they started.  We did our best to keep positive, and we enjoyed our work of constructing bamboo beds for plants, providing happy homes for Steve’s bio-composting worms, cleaning trees, and cooking and cleaning.  We learned a lot from Steve in terms of his management style, which was very hierarchical and efficient.  He had capital behind the effort, and lots of things were being accomplished very quickly by the workers he employed.  We had chances to interact and work with the “campesinos” of Fincalegre, and these were by far the most educational and rewarding moments of the stay.  It illustrated to us the knowledge that comes through personal experience.

Julio, who works as a carpenter- working on this amazing table.

Steve’s fiancée and her daughter came to the farm a few days before our departure.  It was nice to meet them, as their energy, vision, and motivation fill a large space in the future of Fincalegre.  After three weeks, we left to meet my Mom for her vacation in South America.  We wished the family the best as they invested in their future at the farm.  It was the first time in leaving a farm that we felt we had slightly ‘worn out our welcome’. Steve was no longer alone, he had his family there, and they deserved the opportunity to figure the place out for themselves without the opinions or advice of the two of us who, though there for a short time, felt we knew the farm, workers, and projects on a fairly intimate basis.  It wasn’t that we didn’t get along well with Steve, or that we didn’t relish the opportunity to spend time with him and his generosity in the Ecuadorian jungle, we just couldn’t fight the impression that it was not only us who had the feeling it was time for us to be moving on. 

Our energy and enthusiasm at Fincalegre had, well, burned out...

Here are some pictures from our time in Peru and trips with both of our Mamas... Haven't found the time to describe it all in text!