"Is it a girlfriend you are always texting with?" I asked Oscar. I can't help but chat with drivers and tour-guides; in addition to my innate curiosities, it helps me understand the country and its peoples that much more.
"No, I don't have a girlfriend. No time for that. I am texting my primos--I don't know the English word."
"Help me out, amigo. Can you explain what primos means?"
Oscar laughed and after a lot of ers and ums, said "uncle's sons"
"Oh, cousins!"
We had stopped at a place from which we had to walk for ten minutes to get to the waterfalls that Ivan said was a gorgeous sight. It was a few miles off the main highway between Quito and Otavalo. There was no other vehicle where we stopped. A couple of old men were chatting. Ivan pointed to the wall and the arch and started walking.
A typical hacienda style, I thought to myself, as I looked at the wall and the arch.
At the same time, the arch--along with the pleasant temperature and a light breeze--reminded me of the arch at Sengottai. Not a Spanish hacienda arch, but not that different either.
We started walking. A few feet on the other side of the arch was the board that explained to tourists where we were:
Ivan was talking with the only other tour participant that day--a Chinese-Canadian, who is a theoretical physicist at the University of Toronto. Oscar, of course, was busy texting and walking. We paused for a brief while at the interpretation center, where Ivan translated for us that there would be big time celebrations near the falls to mark the summer solstice.
A few kids passed us playing improvised games that kids are so capable of inventing. Otherwise, it was only us on the cobblestone-path.
And then I heard it. The sound of water rushing. As much as I am a mountain man, I love the flowing water too. More so when it is a waterfall. It is not Oregon's cascades that have spoilt me thus, but those warm and wonderful waterfalls at Courtallam. Going to the falls was practically an annual event during my childhood days when we regularly visited Sengottai, which is less than five miles away from Courtallam.
I was excited. The sound of cascading water got louder and louder with every step. And then, there it was.
Bueno! Magnifico!
It is amazing how much a waterfall can make the heart feel so happy and content. Yet again, I had to remind myself that this was not Oregon, and not Courtallam, but Ecuador. "I am in Ecuador!"
A young couple, obviously in love, walked hand-in-hand towards us and the falls. Oh to be in love when young!
A middle-aged local materialized out of nowhere all of a sudden. I then realized that there was a path among the vegetation. He started speaking to me in Spanish. My brown skin and appearance meant that most people assumed that I am a Spanish-speaker. This was my experience in Venezuela a couple of decades earlier, as was the case in Ecuador. He too, like others, sported a confused expression when I said "no comprendo. no espanol." He continued to talk to me pointing his hand at the path from where he emerged. I shrugged my shoulder and repeated "no comprendo."
I noticed an observation deck a little higher up from the bridge. Though Oscar was standing next to me, there was no point asking him as he was texting his primos. So, I turned to Ivan. "Is it safe to walk up there?"
"Of course. But be careful."
It was a little slippery and steep at times. But, was well worth it. I paused for the love-birds to come down to earth, but quietly took a photo before they could notice me coming up. The young couple in love and the waterfalls together more than doubled the pleasure.
I could have spent an entire day there, walking around and watching the falls. But, to paraphrase Robert Frost, we have to get going in life! And so we did.
Courtallam in the Andes started fading away in the distance, and soon there was no sight or sound of it.
We were back at the arch, on the way to the van. The comforting thought was that we were off to yet another beautiful place.
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