Empanadas, Morocho, y Choques

Today I showed up to my Spanish class half an hour late, unshowered, and wearing the same clothes I played basketball in the night before. Usually, I play ball on the weekends (plus Tuesday and Thursday during the week if it’s night raining). Last night I didn’t play so well. Frank told me “Tu cuerpo está aquí, pero tu alma no está aquí” (Your body is here, but your soul isn’t here). He was right. After four hours of class in the morning and a couple hours at the foundation Remar with the kids I was tired. Playing streetball is tough on your body and mine needs to be nice and warmed up to be really into it and last night I just couldn’t get there.

After the game, I went with Edison, his wife Betti, and several other guys to get food in the Floresta (a part of Quito known for the street venders). We got some empanadas and morocho to drink. I’ve had empanadas before, but the morocho was a first. It’s a sweet milk based drink with corn and some other type of grain that I couldn’t quite make out, and it was good. I had three glasses of it along with four empanadas. As usual, I had to insist on putting in some money for the food. Still, Edison paid for most of my food and gave me some of his too.

Afterwards, we dropped some guys off in el centro historico, drove past the presidential palace (which was beautifully lit up at night), and headed south to the borough of Chillogallo, where Edison and Betti live. Chillogallo is a borough that’s clear off the tourist map. The only thing I’ve ever heard about this area is that it’s not the safest part of the city.

As we came up the hill to Edison’s house and turned into his street, all of a sudden we felt a big bang, as the truck we were riding was shaken. The car behind us had tried to quickly pass us as we were turning and hit us from behind. Edison hadn’t signaled and the car behind us hadn’t slowed down. Everyone in our truck was ok, including Betti, who I should mention here is four months pregnant. People stepped out of the car that hit us and came to Edison’s window yelling that it was his fault. Edison said excuse me sir, but you hit me.

Edison’s truck is pretty big. He uses it to deliver those big 20 liter water jugs that go in those purified water coolers (he delivers about 30-40 of them a day). The truck also has a massive rear bumper, which protected us, but smashed in the front of the other car like a tin can.

Edison didn’t want to argue the case when it was already approaching midnight and tried to drive off. The other guys weren’t having it and jumped in front of his truck. Edison slammed on the breaks and threw open the truck door, whistling loudly as he jumped out. I figured this was a call for backup for those who lived on the block and figured it was a good thing since one of the other guys had picked up a rather large rock at this point. Betti hopped out of the truck and went up the block. Now at this point, I’m looking pretty lame being the last one to get out of the truck behind a pregnant women.

I threw my hood up, stepped out of the truck, and walked around the front of the truck to get Edison’s back. By this time, the guys who hit us were threatening to call the police. Edison told them to go ahead, cause “quien choque, paga” (whoever hits, pays). As they called the police, Edison’s father and mother (Mr. and Mrs. Magro) showed up on the scene. At this point the arguing moved up the street to the house. Edison drove his truck up to put it in the driveway, but first his father had to move out his truck. I noticed that Mr. Magro pulled his truck out rather quickly and that it had a state insignia on the side.

One of the guys who hit us asked me if my father was in the military. Being a little confused, I responded that I didn’t know. How was I take for Mr. Magro’s son you ask? I made sure to throw my hood up before I jumped out of the truck to make sure that no one would see my hair. There are a number of things about me that give away that I’m not from around these parts, but I’ve learned that my hair is the biggest sign. The hoodie comes in handy at times and it worked here as I was taken for Edison’s brother. Only later did I figure out that federal military trump local police and that by pulling out his truck quickly, Mr. Magro was intentionally calling attention to his state truck and the fact that he worked for the feds. The other guys seemed to calm down a bit after these signs were understood.

When the police arrived on the scene there was more arguing and explaining of what had happened. To cut it short, even though Edison hadn’t signaled, the police decided it was more the other guy’s fault for trying to zoom past another car on a windy road going uphill.

At this point everything seemed to be good, so I thought. However, Edison still seemed a bit worried as the police got in their vehicle. I asked Betti what was going on cause I was clearly missing something with all the fast Spanish. She said that the police still had Edison’s documents. I saw some money come out and quickly figured out what was going on.

Edison paid off the cops and got his license and documents back from la policia (aka. los corruptos). He told me, “Soy pilas” (I am batteries)... ?? I didn’t get it. He later explained “Soy pilas” is when someone is really smart or intelligent. I think it must be the equivalent of something like “I’m bright” in English. The way Edison handled the situation definitely proved the fact.

So it was a bit of a late night, but I got set up with a bed to sleep in and Edison even gave me the shirt that I left at his house last summer to sleep in. The Magro family showed me hospitality like I was family. The next morning, I took my contacts out of the cup of water I had them in (no contact solution) and threw them in my mouth before putting them back in my eyes (this is a great trick when you don’t have contact solution).

I went onto the roof with Edison to feed the dogs and saw one of the views of a lifetime. Chillogallo is higher up in the mountains than the rest of Quito and we had a clear view of the surrounding city and the snow-capped Mt. Cotopaxi off in the eastern distance. I went back downstairs and had the best breakfast since I’ve been here. Pan con queso, huevos duros, y uvas (bread with cheese, hard boiled eggs, and grapes).

My first trip to Chillogallo was unforgettable in many ways, and definitely worth being half an hour late to class today.