BACK TO WORK AND ORDINARY LIFE

THE SUGAR BREAD MOUNTAIN
IN RIO DE JANEIRO-AN ICON OF BRAZIL


Permanent training was one of the characteristics of our work at The Firm. I was back to work in mid June 1972, and the first thing I had to do was to attend a training course for Latin American Tax Managers, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The Tax Division was, at the time, the fastest growing area within The Firm, and, therefore, an intense training program had been developed for us. I was able to see again many of my colleagues from all over Latin America, some of them had become managers, some others had already become partners, and all of them had two things in common which I tried to learn from; Professionalism and Chivalry.
During the rest of the year I was assigned to many different jobs in Guayaquil, Quito and Cuenca, most of them included auditing and tax work which came handy to me as I was increasingly involved in both areas. In July 1972, I was promoted to the position of Senior Auditor, in charge of the Tax Division, with many responsibilities which corresponded to a Manager, an indication that I was just about to become a manager in The Firm. Meanwhile I continued attending the U as much as my work permitted, and complying with all the school assignments just as any other regular student would. At this point I was registered in the sixth level at the School of Economics at the U of Guayaquil, and was only months from completing the program to become an Economist after submitting my Thesis which would be subject to approval by the Board of the School of Economics before the U would issue my official diploma.
My private life was kind of messy though. Too many trips and a lot of time away from home had prevented me from maintaining a steady relationship with any girl, least of all with Fanny, who, with all the reason in the world, started to complain about my long absences and the lack of commitment in our relationship. Seriously, I was not ready to dedicate too much of my time to what at this point I did not consider one of my priorities. I was at this time more concerned about my job in the first place, in complying with my school assignments, in the second place, in having fun with my friends over the weekends in the third place, and thinking about a serious relationship was only a distant fourth. It was at this point when I came to have three girl friends simultaneously, frankly I don’t remember now how did I manage to do this and not being caught by any of the three, the fact of the matter is that all three of them were also students at the U of G and they knew I was a”very busy man”, but at the same time they knew (I guess), I was a good prospect who they wanted to pursue. Normally I would assign Friday night to go out with one of them, Saturday night to go out with the other, and Fanny always had Sunday all for herself. Monday through Friday I was normally away, working somewhere away from Guayaquil. Thank God there were no cell phones in those days.

On June 30, 1972, the day I came to be 30, I was in the hospital because my tonsils had been removed that morning. I was lying on my bed in a two bed room with no patient in the other bed. I had been advised by my doctor not to speak for three consecutive days, an order that I was complying to the point.
In order to avoid any undesirable encounters, I had advised of my operation to no one but my sister Lilita and her family, who were in fact my own family. They visited me by noon time and had left the room at about 2 PM; they left a nice flower bouquet on top of the table next to my bed and wished me a happy birthday and a prompt recovery. About one hour later, unexpectedly, Fanny showed up in my room, she kissed me in my cheek, wished me a happy BD, and handed me a present packed in a little box which I opened and saw that it contained a nice golden chain with a crucifix, and a card wishing me a happy BD and a nice handwritten message on it. The card was signed “I love you much, Fanny”. That was certainly something I did not expect from Fanny as we had been distanced from each other for over a month by then. I felt good about it and wished I could embrace her, kiss her and tell her I loved her too, but I could only hold her hand tightly and bring it closer to my chest, to my heart which should have been galloping like a colt following his mother. I really felt good about her visit, her message and her present. We remained holding hands for about half an hour, just looking at each other and immersed in our own thoughts about our relationship, when, suddenly, a young girl opened the door and showed her face as if trying to enter the room, she was one of my other two girl friends, she had a present in her hand. She looked at me and Fanny as we were holding hands, she stopped right at the door; she looked at me with her eyes in flames and left the room even before entering it, shutting the door loudly behind her. I wanted to be 30 feet below the ground, I was terribly embarrassed, I literally could not speak and I think it was better that way, as I had no valid explanation for Fanny, who by now had let my hand loose and was showing her irritation in silence, in her eyes, with an expression of more fury than disgust. Five minutes later she left the room in silence without even saying good bye to me, I believe she though for a moment of taking her present and the happy BD card back with her, but she didn’t. I guess I deserved her irritation. I was actually afraid that that was it with Fanny, I felt terribly sorry for her and I wished I could follow her wherever she went and try to explain the unexplainable so as to get her to pardon me. That was the day when I started thinking seriously about our relationship, if I just was able to rebuild it!

THE COPACABANA BEACH, A JEWEL OF BRAZIL
AND LATIN AMERICA
The rest of the year 1972 went by with nothing special to remember, except the fact that I tried several times to rebuild my relationship with Fanny with little success. In September 1972, I was invited to the wedding of one of my classmates, Guido Cortes, a fine, chubby guy who was a student leader and an auditor working for the Government’s Tax Department. The reception took place at the Lions’ Club’s main building nearby the soccer stadium, a place that was not far from the place I lived at, with my sister Lilita. I had decided to attend the party and invited no one to be my couple. Little did I know that I was going to see Fanny in that party, she was accompanied by a guy I didn’t know and I still don’t know who he was. Whether she was dating him or was just a friend, I never knew, the fact of the matter is that she was there and she and I pretended we hadn’t seen each other. I didn’t feel good about it, I was hurt by the fact she was in a party with someone that was not me, period. From then on, I decided to play the role of the hurt guy and stopped calling her altogether, I knew I deserved whatever she was up to, and after all, for all practical purposes we had broken apart, or so I thought. But I did not want to accept the fact she was dating someone else, I guess you can say I was jealous, maybe, or, perhaps I wasn’t but it still didn’t make me feel good. So, for over a month and a half I did not call her, but somehow I hoped that she would call, but she didn’t. Finally, one night, before school was over, I left my classroom and went right across my school campus toward Fanny’s, I wanted to wait and see if I could pick Fanny as she was going home after her own classes. I was lucky, she saw my car and she saw me standing by it. She separated from a group of classmates she was walking with and came to me, we said hello to each other amicably, tenderly, I hugged her and she hugged me, no words were said, no words needed to be said, she and I had reconciled, she sat in my car and we headed home, slowly, as if nothing had happened. I guess that was the best way to do it. Neither one of us needed to say we were sorry…
In my next posting: CHILE AND A BIT OF ITS RECENT HISTORY

SPAIN, THE SAD PART

THE MONUMENT TO CERVANTES, DON QUIXOTE
AND SANCHO, AT THE PLAZA DE ESPAÑA
IN THE HEART OF MADRID

Before I went to Europe, my friend Mauricio Cadena, an artist living in Quito, who, while studying art in Spain had married a Spanish Girl, asked me to visit his in laws when I get to Madrid. So I did. They were retirees well into their seventies who had seen neither their daughter, nor their son in law or their two children (12 and 10), who had been born in Ecuador since she left Spain many years back. It was a very interesting encounter because they were two old and conservative persons who had grown, lived and gotten used to the restrictions of the Franco Regime (which took over power in Spain in the late thirties, after a bloody civil war in which almost a million Spaniards lost their lives). On the other side, I was a young, outspoken, not conservative man in his late twenties, who had grown under a definitely imperfect, but humanistic political system, which did not restrict any of the individual’s freedoms, least of all the freedom of speech, and thus, I was used to speak out as I wished, anywhere, about anything, with anyone.

The restaurant they had chosen was a modest one, located on the second floor of an old building at “La Gran Via”, the main street of the old Madrid, only about two blocks from beautiful fountain La Cibeles, (Cibeles is the Greek goddess of the soil, the agriculture and fertility), and about six blocks from the Plaza de España on the other end of the street. La Cibeles is a landmark of Madrid and it is a large and at night very colorful fountain at the center of which is a carriage on which the goddess Cibeles rides, pulled by two big lions. We sat on a corner of the room, looking to the street, through the transparent curtains and could see the changing colors in the fountain.


LA CIBELES FOUNTAIN, A LANDMARK OF MADRID

The lights in the restaurant were deem and did not allow a clear view of the other people in the place. The tables’ set up was nice and clean, with a green table cloth on top of a white one serving as the base cloth, leaving the white corners uncovered. A small vase with fresh and colorful flowers was sitting at the center of the table, and two types of wine glasses were placed in each of the three places were we would soon be eating. Very pleasing, slow Spanish guitar music was heard throughout the dining room. As the waiter approached us to take the order I told my companions that I will take care of the bill, but the old couple insisted that they would do so, as I was considered their “guest of honor”, something that I reluctantly accepted as it was obvious to me that these people were living on a tight budget. They ordered the ever present tapas including Jamon Serrano and “Callos a la Madrilène”, delicious dishes of the Spanish Cuisine, and, of course, Paella a la Valenciana, that delicious Spanish dish that by then I had eaten at least ten times while in Madrid. I did not order wine, even though my hosts insisted that I should, because I didn’t want the bill to reach a high amount.

While dining, almost obsessive as I had always been with History and Politics; I began a conversation about the Spanish political system and made my point about what I thought of Franco and his abusive government. Suddenly, my dinner companions began showing anxiety and fear which I could see in their faces. Very nervous as they were, they asked me to lower my voice, with a very clear indication that we might be listened by the government’s bugging systems, and therefore we might be arrested for speaking against Franco and his regime. That was the first time I could see in real people that strange sensation of fear of speaking, I could see it in their faces, in their voices and attitudes. That sensation of fear of speaking was totally alien to me until then, and I could only see it and feel it again many, many years later when I visited Cuba with my daughter Angie, and I talked to real people about their real tragic lives within that immense prison the Castro brothers have made of that beautiful island. On that occasion I could talk to young as well as adult people whose only hope is to be able to escape the island, as they have already lost hope of any improvement in their political system.

My dinner with this old couple in this half free Spain ended with a big hug they gave me, which I was supposed to deliver to their daughter, their son in law and their grand children, which I did, but, the impression of fear in their faces still remains in my eye balls, just the same as it remains the pain, the suffering and the lack of hope of those poor Cuban individuals I met in Havana in 2003. But, as the old Spanish saying goes; "there is no evil that can last one hundred years, nor a body that can take it", Spain is now a free and prosperous country and every Spaniard can speak out their feelings or their ideas. I certainly hope, I truly hope that some day, sooner, rather than later, the great Cuba of Marti, Antonio Maceo and Maximo Gomez, and its twelve million people, will be able to enjoy full freedom just as all human beings should.


LA GRAN VIA IN MADRID, A SYMBOL OF SPAIN

I continued my visit to Madrid and its surroundings for another two days, I went shopping for souvenirs at a special site not very far from a place were I ate the most delicious Spanish “turrones” one can think of, not very far from which I bought a beautiful doll for Fanny, whom, much to my own amazement, I though of many times while in Europe. She still keeps the doll in our bedroom as a reminder of the old days in which she wouldn’t know where we were heading with our relationship. Sometimes I tease her saying that this was the doll she got from St. Anthony, the saint who made the miracle to her, that is, then, the doll that got me hooked!

After more than 30 days in Europe, I took a plane returning to Ecuador. I felt very happy with everything I did; I felt very happy to have begun to materialize some of my childhood dreams of going around the world. Though I didn’t ride the flying trains of my childhood dreams, I enjoyed visiting the history, the geography, the architecture the art, the music, the culture in general, and the people of Europe, the continent I had seen only in maps and had known about from the books I studied while being a young student. Europe was, certainly, a great point to start my ever present desire to see the world. With the exception of my conversation with the old Spanish couple by the Cibeles, I was never disappointed at anything I saw, heard or felt while in Europe, I just loved the old and beautiful Europe!

Thirteen years later I returned to Europe as a married man, with my wife, Fanny and two of my three children, Mariuxi (11) and Rafael Jr. (9). Angie, the youngest (5) stayed in Guayaquil with my sister Lilita; because we thought she was too young to endure the three week trip. We visited almost the same places I visited the first time. Such was my love for Europe that I wanted to enjoy it again, this time with my dear family. Neither one of us got disappointed either, we all loved Europe. The sad part of this trip, however, came right upon our return to Guayaquil. As we arrived in the Guayaquil airport, our youngest one, Angie, ran into my arms and almost crying said, “dad, please, don’t you ever leave again without me”. It felt like a bullet coming through my body!. I still feel the same when I talk about it.

In my next posting: BACK TO WORK AND ORDINARY LIFE

SPAIN THE BEAUTIFUL

EL PRADO MUSEUM, ONE OF THE LARGEST
AND RICHEST OF THE WORLD

On my first full day in Madrid I decided to visit the Prado Museum, a jewel of art and history of the Spanish world and European culture. This Museum is renowned as being the largest art gallery in the world. It houses more than 8,600 paintings, of which they exhibit only about 2,000 because of the lack of space. It is said that many important museums throughout the world have less artistic riches in their halls than the Prado Museum has in storage. During the bloody Spanish Civil War (1936-39), many of this works of art were transferred to Geneva, but were returned home after WWII. In this way these treasures of human kind were preserved for the posterity, from the barbarities committed by both sides during the Spanish Civil War.
Among the most famous works of art displayed in this museum are those of Velazquez
(1599-1660), Goya (1746-1848) and El Greco (1541-1614). I was advised by one of the guides to visit these three artists’ galleries, which I did, and doing so took 70% of the time I spent in the museum, which was one full day from 9:00 AM to 6:00PM. I confess not knowing at the time much about paintings and famous painters, but that didn’t prevent me from enjoying every minute of my visit,which has helped me since, in the endless process of learning about art throughout the history of human kind.
On my second day in Madrid, I decided to do what most Madridians do at least four times a year, that is, go watch a bull fight at the "Las Ventas" bull fighting ring, the most famous in the world. Though I was almost a complete neophyte about the so called "art" of bullfighting, I was curious to see a “corrida” or a show of this controversial art, at which the Spaniards have excelle at, and love so much. I was impressed more than anything else by the surroundings, by the holiday spirit of the attendants, by the colorful clothing of the women, by the excitement provoked in the whole audience, by the "pasodoble" music (which I've heard since I was a child) than by the bullfighting itself, which I though was very cruel. I didn’t think of it as a one on one, leveled field fighting between to equals, on the contrary, I thought of it as a completely unfair, bloody and
unjust fight. The bull had everything to lose while the bullfighter had everything to win. In many ways it reminded me about the gladiators’ fights in the Roman Coliseum. I thought it was an absolutely unequal fight of a noble animal against many cruel people bunching up against the animal whose destiny appeared to have been determined much before the fight started. With all due respect to the Spanish culture and customs,which in many ways we inherited here in Latin America, I thought then, as I think today, that the bullfighting is a remainder of barbarous times which should not have a place in a civilized world. I had mixed feelings afterwards, I had satisfied my curiosity, but I did not like much of what I had seen. It reminded me much also of the cockfighting in my home village when I was a child, however, cruel as it also was, it was a one on one fight, where the winner was the bravest or the best trained of the two contestant birds, not a group of intelligent well armed people against one sole animal whose only fault was to have been born a bull instead of a cat.



THE "ESCORIAL", THE PALACE AND MONASTERY, RESIDENCE OF THE SPANISH KINGS FOR SEVERAL CENTURIES

In my third day in Madrid I took a bus tour to what is called the “Valley of the Fallen Ones”. This is a monument built by the Franco autocratic regime to pay homage to those men and women who gave away their lives during the cruelest of all civil wars in the Spanish world’s history, and it is believed that at least a part of the carvings in the solid rock of the hill, were made manually by forced labor from many prisoners taken by the Franco military forces before and after the war was ended. Nearby this monument is the "Escorial", a monumental palace and Monastery complex, located about 25 miles to the northwest of Madrid, in the way to Avila and Segovia, two very interesting historical places I was able to visit the following day. The palace, which for centuries became home of the Spanish Kings, was built by Philip the II, the son of Charles The First of Spain, better known as Charles the Fifth of Germany, and its construction started the day of St Lawrence, on August 10, 1557 and was completed more than twenty years later.

AVILA NEAR MADRID -THE FORTIFIED MEDIEVAL CITY-
A WORLD'S HERITAGE MONUMENT WHICH INSPIRED WALT DISNEY
On my fourth day in Madrid, I went to Avila and Segovia, two towns in the region of Castille and Leon, not very far from Madrid, which are famous for their impressive historical constructions. The town of Avila is famous for its medieval fortifications. The city was founded in the 11th century and to protect itself from its enemies, namely the Moors, they built an impressive wall with 82 towers that continues to enclose the town in such a way that one has the impression of returning to the middle ages when looking at the wall and the towers from the distance. This must have been, indeed, an impenetrable city. Avila continues to preserve its medieval look today and is well-known for its continued-nearly complete- preservation.

Segovia is located in a relatively barren area, contains three UNESCO world heritage sites including the extraordinary Roman aqueduct built nearly 2000 years ago to transport water from a distant river to the city, and which remains structurally intact. Segovia is famous for the “cochinillo” (roasted piglet) served at many of its restaurants. Cochinillo is an open defiance to the “healthy food” concept but, it is nevertheless, munched away by 99% of Segovia visitors, including myself, of course.

SEGOVIA- THE ROMAN AQUEDUCT BUILT 2000 YEARS AGO AND WHICH REMAINS INTACT TODAY

My next visit was to Toledo, the site of the famous Alcazar of Toledo (Castle). It is a small and very old city located about one hour from Madrid, it sits on a large hill and retains its old medieval road plan. Toledo is the capital of the province of the same name and was recently declared a World Heritage Site by the UNESCO.



TOLEDO, ONCE THE CAPITAL OF THE ALMIGHTY SPANISH EMPIRE

It was one of the capitals of the Spanish Empire when at the top of its glory, and is historically of monumental importance because it was a place of peaceful and creative coexistence of Christian, Muslim and Jewish cultures in medieval times. The famous Spanish painter El Greco was born here and a large museum in his honor is part of the places I visited. Sitting on a large hill, "Old Toledo" is encircled on three sides by the Tagus River.

In my next posting: A SAD PART OF SPAIN

THE FRENCH RIVIERA AND THEN SPAIN

THE FRENCH RIVIERA, VACATIONING SITE OF LA CREME OF THE WORLD

We left the Italian Riviera and headed to the Côte d'Azur, better known worldwide as the French Riviera, in the Mediterranean coast in the southeast corner of France, extending from the Italian border in the East to the Spanish border in the South West. The most important places in this area are Monaco, Nice and Cannes but the whole coastline is filled with small and beautiful resort towns which are vacationing and summer places for some of the richest people in the world. The French Riviera benefits from an average of 300 days of sunshine a year, it extends for about 120 miles (from Menton in the East, to Bandol, near Toulon in the West), of coastline with beautiful white sand beaches and literally thousands of restaurants, catering the finest food in the world.


THE MONTECARLO CASINO WHERE
THE RICH TRY THEIR LUCK

We visited Monaco (Montecarlo), one of the smallest independent states in the world, which was then governed by Prince Rainiero and his wife, former American darling and movie actress, Princess Grace (formerly Grace Kelly). Monaco is famous for its casino, where the rich and the famous regularly choose to lose (or at least risk) parts of their fortunes. Had we entered and played, we would have lost our shirts, since we had little else to lose, but we couldn’t afford to, so we passed it. We just passed by and took a couple of photos showing the Casino Palace and the beautiful gardens in the forefront. Afterwards we took a look at the circuit where a famous car race takes place every year and then we headed for Nice, which then had a population of about 400,000 and was famous for its beaches and for being home to one of the major yachting centers in the world, with many luxurious marinas along its coast. It is here, in one of the beaches near Nice that we the young men in the tour, had a real ball, watching, for the first time in our lives, a crowd of beautiful girls sunbathing topless along a beach stretch of about half of a mile. Watching this great spectacle took us about two hours and we exhausted our reserves of film for our cameras, much to the disgust of our female companions who did not enjoy much the whole thing. We told them not to be shy and do as they saw it, to not avail. Latin girls in those days were still shy, I don't believe they are as shy any more.
Manolo, our Galician driver, parked the bus, got his swimming suit on, and came along with us the boys. Manolo, who never stopped telling jokes about his countrymen, began his funny joke telling as he was lying on the beach and enthusiastically watched the topless girls. He told us about the fifty Galicians who drowned as they were trying to dig a tunnel to escape from a prison-ship; and the one about the little Galician kid who was inconsolable crying for the death of his cat. In trying to console him, his mother told him that he should not cry because the little cat was already in God’s hands. The kid shouted back, “but mom, what the hell is God going to do with a dead cat? So much for the smart Galicians!
We stayed in Nice overnight, went to a bar where we found people from all over the world and ended up having the time of our lives, singing, dancing and drinking our heads out. We were among the few who spoke both English and Spanish in a world where most people spoke only one language, be it English, French, Italian or German. We made friends with a lot of young people who spoke English, Italian and even German, not that much with French speaking people who appeared to be a bit uncomfortable with English speaking people, a perception that I have heard repeated by many English speaking travelers who have gone to France. That was a long, long night. We went to bed at five AM and asked Manolo to take it easy the next day, which he did. Most of us got up well entered the afternoon and all of us began our day with an early dinner at four PM. Our next step was Cannes, still in the French Riviera.



CANNES, AT THE HEART OF THE FRENCH RIVIERA

The city of Cannes is the "star" of the French Riviera; it is famous for the International film festival which carries its name, for its fancy hotels, luxurious cars, for its beautiful beaches and for the world famous visitors who are attracted to this place. The city is centered on the old port; with the down town part quite compact. Many of the art galleries, jewelry and exclusive clothing shops are located along the Bvd. de la Croisette where most of the exclusive hotels are located as well. The miles long white sandy beaches of Cannes run along the Rue Golfe de la Napoule, or along the Bvd. de la Croisette. Our “center of operations was located in the beach, in front of the Bvd. de la Croisette, where we were able to enjoy the view of the city, but more than anything, the view of the beautiful girls sunbathing topless everywhere we could see. Mama Mia, la vita e Bella!
We spent the day mostly at the beach playing ball and taking as many pictures as we could and, at the end of the day, my fellow companions decided to vote where to go next. Much to my disappointment, the votes favored Paris as opposed to Madrid 13-7. As a result, I had to split because I had been to Paris already and I wanted to visit Spain. This was my last day and night with the group, at night, we drank beer like Cossacks drink vodka, we danced and sang Latin songs out loud, I felt sad because we had to split, but, that is the nature of life, every one has his own plans and the next day I took a train to Madrid, I was again all by myself.
Betty and I said farewell to each other in a very affectionate but mature way. There was no tear dropping, no promises of anything but to keep in touch by writing each other, which we did for a short period of time. She and I had a beautiful time together; we kissed and wished each other the best. We kept corresponding for a few months afterwards, but, it was obvious that ours was only a summer thing which did not leave any scars in either side. It was just one more of the nice things to remember from my first vacation in Europe!
The following day I was in Madrid, Spain and as originally intended and again, I began to use my little “Europe on $20 a day” book with enormous success. I arrived at the train station and took a taxi to my hotel in “La Gran Via” only two blocks away from the Plaza de España, the site where an immense statue of both Don Quixote and his loyal assistant Sancho Panza is a great testimony to the admiration of Spain and the whole Spanish World to the greatest writer of the Spanish Language, Don Miguel de Cervantes y Saavedra. That was a great place to be in Madrid. My hotel was located in a very old building, perhaps from the end of the nineteen century or even older, but my room was very nice and clean, and the cost was only $10/day. I had my own bathroom (which is a luxury in Europe at my level of a budget), with an elevator which was as slow as a turtle, therefore, in the morning, instead of taking the elevator I used to take the stairs. I had promised myself that I would eat as much Paella as possible when I arrived in Madrid, and so I did. A nice and clean restaurant where they served great Paella was only about a hundred yards away across the street, I had Paella at lunch and I had more Paella for dinner. The partying, drinking and dancing of the last two and a half weeks was over. This was time to retake the cultural and the sightseeing part of my vacations in Europe.
In my next posting, SPAIN THE BEAUTIFUL

ROME, NAPLES, POMPEII AND THE ITALIAN RIVIERA

THE COLISEUM IN ROME,
THE ROMAN EMPIRE'S ARCHITECTURE AT ITS BEST

A couple of days later we arrived in Rome, “the eternal city”, the city with so much history and so much art and architecture. Rome is located in the central-western portion of the Italian boot and apparently it was originally inhabited by blond people coming from the north, different from those who populated the rest of the Italian peninsula.
Rome's history spans over two thousand five hundred years and according to the legend, it was founded by Romulus and Remus, the twin sons of a princess and a god that abandoned their children, who soon were adopted by a female wolf which fed them till they grew up to take care of themselves. Rome was the capital of the Roman Empire for over seven hundred years and since the 2nd Century AD Rome has been the center of the Catholic Church. The Vatican City, an independent city-state presided by the Pope is located within the boundaries of Rome. At the end of the middle ages, Rome was ruled by various popes who transformed the city, along with Florence into one of the major centers of the Italian and European Renaissance.



THE VATICAN CITY, A CITY STATE WITHIN THE CITY OF ROME

Even though the group I joined was formed by young people who liked partying above almost everything else, we allowed ourselves some cultural activities, including visiting Rome’s rich artistic, architectural and archaeological sites which are its most important historical heritage. We visited many landmarks and monuments which date back over 2,000 years such as the Roman Coliseum, The Trajan Forum and the Via Apia, which are kept in a remarkable condition thanks to a careful and faithful restoration and reconstruction work. We visited the Vatican City and within it, the St Peter Basilica (“the greatest of all Christian churches in the world”), and the Sistine Chapel which is a great museum of renaissance art by itself, with its ceiling painted by Michelangelo Buonarotti, one of the greatest artists of human kind. While in Rome, we ate “like Romans” and enjoyed Italian and international cuisine, we partied and danced till our bodies asked for a brake, and then we continued partying for an additional while.


A PORTRAIT OF MICHELANGELO BUONAROTTI, THE MASTER
OF ALL MASTERS OF THE ART IN THE RENAISSANCE

At about three o’clock in the morning in one of our never ending partying nights, we decided to visit the “Fontana di Trevi” (The Fountain of Trevi), where legend holds that if visitors throw a coin into the fountain, they are ensured a return to Rome. A few guys in the group were actually so happyly drunk, that they wanted to jump into the fountain, however a couple of carabinieri who were present at the site, prevented that to happen in spite of the insisting requests from all of us in the group. A current version of the Fontana di Trevi's legend is that your wishes will come true, and you will find the couple of your dreams if you throw three coins with your right hand over your left shoulder and into the fountain. Our partying had been so good, and the alcohol we ingested was so much, that I don’t think either one of us was capable at the moment of distinguishing right from left or even feet from shoulder. That was a great night, a real partying night. Our European holidays at their best!

After four days in Rome we decided to head over to Naples (Napoli in Italian), the capital of the Italian region of Campania and the home town of the Italian Pizza. Naples is known for its rich history, art, culture, music and gastronomy but also for its political and economic corruption and a thriving black market. It is actually believed that the omnipresent Italian Mafia is headquartered in Naples. The city had then a population of around one million. Naples was founded by the Greeks in the 8th century BC; therefore, it is one of the oldest existing cities in the world. The port of Naples is one of the most active and important in Europe. From here, we took a boat tour to the island of Capri, now very famous for it was the home of the laureate Chilean poet Pablo Neruda while he was a political exile in the mid fifties. The Oscar winning movie “The Postman” was filmed here in the mid nineties and portrays a love drama in which Neruda helps his postman conquer the love of the girl of his dreams.

After Naples we decided to visit the ruins of what was the prosperous and politically very important city of Pompeii which was completely destroyed and buried under 12 to 20 feet of ash from the volcano nearby in 79AD. Pompeii not only disappeared from the face of the earth, but it also disappeared from the historical records for about 1600 years, until its buried ruins were accidentally discovered in 1592. Since then, excavations have brought and extraordinarily detailed insight into the life of a city that existed at the height of the Roman Empire. We were but a few of the 2.5 million people who visit Pompeii every year.
By the time we finished visiting Pompeii, we all were a bit tired
of visiting ruins, monuments, museums and works of art. Young people in holidays as we were, we needed a bit more of excitement, of partying and leisure, just as we had it in Rome the previous week, so we decided to go to the Riviera, the long coast line of the Golf of Genoa where the beaches are abundant, the partying never ends and the music is a permanent companion. Young female and good looking companions we had, and happy to be a part of our group too, so, someone in the group said; “to hell with the ruins, let’s get back to the living bodies!” and so we did!
Geographically, the term “Riviera” refers to the long and narrow stretch of coastal land peacefully nestled between the Alps and the Mediterranean Sea, extending from northwest Italy to southeast France. From East to West, therefore, this long stretch is divided between the equally beautiful shorelines of the Italian Riviera and the French Riviera. The term “picture perfect” finds its true meaning in the 200 miles of eye-catching stretch of coastline located in the northern part of Italy and extends for another 200 miles into the Southern part of France. The Italian Riviera coastline stretches from Cinque Terre in the east to Ventimiglia in the west near the French border. Genoa, the largest Italian port in the Mediterranean is at the center of the Riviera.



GENOA, AT THE CENTER OF THE ITALIAN RIVIERA


Genoa is famous for being the port where Christopher Columbus is thought to have been born in the mid 1400’s, at a time when this city was the most important port in Southern Europe. We had said we needed to stop there to “rest”, but resting is exactly what we didn`t do. We partied two whole nights in a row. Abundant, delicious Italian food, wine, beer, music and dancing is what I can remember of those two nights in Genoa. At four O’clock in the morning of our second night, when the streets were almost silent and desolate and after partying the whole night, we sat around the Christopher Columbus’s monument for a photo that never was, because nobody was able to take it! Such was the state of our bodies and minds at that time of the morning in Genoa. I’m sure Christopher Columbus wouldn’t have been very proud of having discovered the world where these dissolute young people who did not respect his monument, were born! Please excuse us Chris!



THE MONUMENT TO CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
IN GENOA HIS NATAL CITY

The Spanish driver of our bus was like one of those people existing only in the magical realism in the Latin-American literature, he seemed never to sleep, he knew every single place we wanted to go, he spoke every language you can think of, he was always in a good mood and while we were in the bus he was always telling us all kinds of good jokes to keep us awake, but, best of everything, he was the safest driver I have ever seen till these days. Manuel was his name and he was from Galicia, a province in North Western Spain, a region best known for its great food, particularly for its seafood. Manolo, as we called him, specialized in telling us jokes portraying his fellow Galicians as stupid. I still remember a few of those jokes. One of them is about this Galician guy who goes to the doctor asking for a vasectomy. The doctor tells him “sir, this is a very serious decision that needs to be consulted with your family, have you done so”? The guy readily answers affirmatively and adds “they voted yes 17-2”. Another one was about this old Galician lady who goes to the dentist and asks him to pull out her teeth, after looking into the lady’s mouth, the dentist tells her “mom, how come you want me to pull out your teeth, you don’t have any teeth”, the lady calmly responds “that’s why I’m asking you to pull them out doctor, I just swallowed them”. And the last one in the night: A man is being taken away by a nurse on a stretcher, he is pale, in panic and asks the nurse if she could take him to the emergency room, she calmly responds, “sir, I'm sorry but I can’t, when the doctor says to the morgue, it is to the morgue”, at the end of the story telling, Manolo said, “you know guys?, I’m glad I’m a Galician, but my parents are from Madrid!, I WISH I WAS BORN THERE TOO! And he laughed his heart out afterwards.

In my next posting: THE FRENCH RIVIERA, AND THEN SPAIN

ITALY, HISTORY AND ART

FLORENCE, THE CRADLE OF RENAISSANCE

I would have stayed another week in Paris and would have continued having a great time, but I had planned to see much more of Europe. From Paris I took a train to Florence, the quintessential city of the renaissance art and culture, of Etruscan origin, this city was founded by Emperor Julius Caesar around 59 BC, making it a strategic garrison on the narrowest crossing linking Rome to Northern Italy and The Gaul (France). Florence’s ruler Cosimo de’Medici’s eye for talent in the 15th century saw a whole constellation of artists flourish, such as Alberti, Brunelleschi, Lorenzo Ghiberti, Donatello, Fra Angelico and Fra Filippo Lippi. Cosimo’s grandson (1469–92), ushered in the most glorious period of Florentine civilization and of the Italian Renaissance. His court fostered the flowering of art, music and poetry, turning Florence into Italy’s cultural capital which in many ways it still is. In Florence I visited the famous Galleria degli Uffizi, the Galleria dell’Accademia, the San Marco Museum, the Galleria Palatina, the Capelle di Medici. Each and every one of them reminded me as it does to all visitors, the grandeur of this city at the turn of the 15th century and its influence in the development of the Western Civilization. Leonardo Da Vinci and Michelangelo, the two greatest artists of the Renaissance are at the center of Florence’s Museums. My visit to Florence was, in many ways, a shower of history, culture and art, a reminding of how little my knowledge in those areas had been, and an invitation to expand it, which I have done over the last forty years, though I still feel that I know very little of it . Looking at it in retrospective, I was, in fact, beginning to materialize my childhood dreams, my dreams of travelling far, far away, flying in the long, long whistling trains passing by my little home village, just like those expected by my friend Ricardo Granizo from Chayaguan.
From Florence, I took a train to Assisi, the little town in the province of Perugia, known for the quality of its wine. This city, also of Etruscan origin, is known worldwide more than anything else for having been the home of St. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226) and for keeping the Saint’s tomb in the town’s Cathedral. This was a very short visit which I made because I wanted to pay my personal homage to the Saint, and say a prayer for my mom right there, at his tomb. My mom was more than a devote, an admirer and a follower of St. Francis the humble monk who dedicated his life to the service of the poor and all kinds of people in need of help. It just made a lot of sense to me that I visited this place and have a moment of reflection about my mother's teachings and the Saint who inspired many of them.


ASSISI, ITALY, ST. FRANCIS HOME TOWN


In my way to visit Venice, I stopped in Padua, famous for its Basilica, dedicated to the memory of St. Antony of Padua, the saint who is known to be the one who helps desperate single women to get a husband. My wife Fanny is a devote of this saint, I wonder sometimes if this has anything to do with the fact that she, miraculously, got me as her husband...
My next stop was Venice. Venice was founded in 421 AD, and was built on several islands of a lagoon, which were then linked by bridges. Throughout the centuries, the city was populated by merchants who took advantage of its strategic location and began spreading their commercial boundaries through the Mediterranean. Marco Polo, who went to China and visited the Genghis Khan in the 13th century, is the most famous of those Venetian merchants. In the middle ages, just as it happened with many other European cities, Venice lost one half of its population to the plague and, in spite of it; the city succeeded in becoming the leader of the seas thanks to the men and women who fought indomitably to beat the odds.
Giacomo Casanova, the irresistible seducer who has captivated the attention of millions of readers throughout the centuries, was a real Venetian who told his lover’s story in the famous book “Memories di Giacomo Casanova”. He was born and lived his love stories here in Venice. Incidentally, I lived my own short lived love story here in Venice.
In Venice, I stayed at a small hotel only about ten minutes walking distance from the train station and about a 20 minute boat ride to the St Mark’s square, in downtown Venice. It was an old fashioned little hotel with a room about 90 square feet with a very small single’s bed and no toilet and shower in the room but a small lavatory. The good thing about it is that the cost was only about $10/night. As soon as I checked in, I went downstairs to the front desk asking for a towel and the keys to the shower room for which I had to pay an extra dollar. When on the third day of my stay I went for the third time to pay for my right to shower, I was politely asked by the girl at the front desk if I was sick, my answer was “no, I’m not sick, why do you ask that”, the girl’s answer was: “sorry for asking, but people here do not take a daily shower“. I knew right then why the odors in the trains in Europe are not necessarily those of the Paris perfumes…



VENICE, A JEWEL OF ITALY AND THE WORLD


At seven O’clock on June 20, 1972, while sitting in a small table and drinking a beer in one of the many cafes in the Saint Mark’s Plaza after having walked tirelessly most of the day, all of a sudden I heard in the distance a chorus singing in Spanish the well known song “Borinquen”, from Puerto Rico. “Hey”, I said to myself, “there should be some Spanish speaking people over there, I should go and try to meet them, after all, all of these days I have been doing all these trip by myself”. Sure enough, I walked about 200 feet and saw this group of about 20 young people, half men and half girls, who were enjoying themselves like little pigs in the mud, at a café, right across the St. Mark’s cathedral. As I approached them, they were still singing the same song, I stood a few feet away and started to sing along while smiling and waving at the group and receiving smiles and hand waiving in return. When they were finished singing, I got closer and started talking to them. As they began talking back to me, I could recognize their unmistakable Puerto Rican accent, so I introduced myself and we began a nice young people’s chat. They immediately invited me to join their party, which I happily did. They were all freshly graduated students from the University of Puerto Rico, at Rio Piedras, and had chartered a bus in Spain to take European holidays celebrating their graduation.
It was a long, long night, talking, drinking beer and singing made the time fly fast. At one o´clock in the morning the group decided to take several gondolas and navigate our way around Venice while singing along. By midnight I was friends with everyone in the group but mostly with a good looking 30 year old brunette named Betty who had graduated as a medical doctor and was undoubtedly free to enjoy her holidays as she wished. It was an instantaneous while unexpected finding for both of us. Singing we continued and, when the people in my gondola asked me to sing an Ecuadorian song, and was about to say I didn’t know any song to sing, I suddenly remembered a song from my old days of bohemia at the Borja Lavayen School in Guayaquil and started singing “Sombras” (“Shadows”) an old romantic song which was, I’m sure, the only song I knew all the prose of. Much to my surprise and amazement, the whole group started to sing along with me. Incredibly, they all knew the prose of the song. I was so emotional that I couldn’t avoid letting tears come off my eyes, it was unbelievable, I was so many thousands of miles away from my loved homeland and was singing, late in a silent Venetian night, the only song I knew, and was accompanied, in a perfect chorus, by people from a far away country, whom I had met only a few hours ago. I said to myself that night, and I meant it: this is really a very, very small world…
At the end of this long, long night, I was invited by Betty and a few others in the group to join them in their journey throughout Europe. They had plenty of space in their bus and a lot of enthusiasm in what they were doing, I had no specific plans and I liked a lot their itinerary which included Rome, Naples, Pompeii, the Italian and French Riviera, Madrid and other Spanish cities, Just what I’d been planning to do by myself, only this time I was accompanied by twenty other people of my age who were there to enjoy themselves and their European tour.

In my next posting, ROME, NAPLES, POMPEII AND THE ITALLIAN RIVIERA

BEAUTIFUL PARIS

THE EIFFEL TOWER, BUILT AT THE END OF THE 19TH CENTURY. IT HAS BECOME THE VERY SYMBOL OF THE CITY


A few minutes later, the train stopped in a little village with old, farmers’ looking houses in the surrounding hills, and only a few old buildings besides the also very old train station. It looked to me like one of those little villages you see surrounding toy trains’ displays, except that this one was for real, and it was located somewhere in Germany. Something did not quite seem real to me. As the train started to slow down, the man with the typical railroad’s man’s cap abruptly took my suitcase in his hands and signaled to me that I should follow him. He got me down the train and spoke a few words with a man standing at the train station, he was wearing a train uniform and he was the only person in an otherwise desolate place where time seemed to have fully stopped. A couple of minutes later, the train was whistleling good bye and I was left in the train station with the only man in it, a man who did not speak any of the languages I could communicate with. It really started to get kind of spooky to me.
It must have been around noon time in this beautiful sunny and still kind of cool day at the end of the Spring of 1972, the man in the station was showing me a map and trying (I guess) to tell me what had been wrong and why I was left in this place in the middle of nowhere, but there was no way I would catch a word of what I was hearing. I just sat in a bench in the open area where I was left by the train and started to wonder what to do, then, about half an hour later I heard the whistleing of another train coming from the other side, and I thought that maybe I could get some help from people coming in it. The train stopped only for about two minutes and only one person got down from it, it was a blond, good looking young man in his early twenties who was carrying only a small suitcase just like mine, he looked American to me. I approached this young man and spoke in English to him; his answer was in a perfect American English and I felt so much relieved he should have noticed it in my face. “Where are you from”, he asked to me, and I answered “I’m from Guayaquil, Ecuador”. The man’s face turned incredulous and said “you’ve got to be kidding me, It can’t be true”, you are not from Ecuador”. Surprised as I was because of the young man’s reaction, I said “no, I’m not kidding you, I’m really from Ecuador and I had just began my vacations I Europe”. The man’s face now turned very amicable and said “O, my God, this is incredible, you know why?” I said “why”, and he said “because I’m from Quito, I mean I was born in Quito, Ecuador, and I’m the son of an evangelic missioner stationed in Quito, and I’m an evangelic missioner myself, my father is the man heading the evangelical mission in Quito, Ecuador, and the head of the short band radio HCJB which can be heard anywhere in the world”. We both laughed and wondered how small this world is. Immediately threafter my new friend spoke in German with the man in the train station and found out for me that I was actually in a small village in East Germany, that I had no permission to enter the Country and that I needed to take a train back into West Germany, which I did about 30 minutes later. As the girl in the counter in Amsterdam had said, I was supposed to change trains in Köln (Colony) but I didn’t and I had continued in this train that was heading towards Leipzig, in East Germany, a country which neither my Eurorailpass allowed me to enter, nor my passport allow me to visit. I said good- bye to my Ecuador born friend and immediately I took the train going back into West Germany. A few hours later I arrived in Frankfurt where I visited Jerry Windham’s in-laws for 24 hours and then headed to Paris which I visited for five days.

NOTRE DAME, RIGHT OFF THE SEINE RIVER
IS AN ICON OF THE CITY OF LIGHT

Paris, a city which is more than 2,200 years old, was originally populated by the Gauls, the indomitable tribe which refused for years to bend to the Romans. The Gauls had settled there between 250 and 200 BC and founded a fishing village on an island in the river that is known now as the Seine. The city was known as Lutece (Lutetia), in ancient times. After bitter fighting, Paris was conquered by Julius Caesar in 52 BC, and existed as a regional center under the Romans and in the early middle Ages.

Paris, known as the City of Light, the city with so much history and so much culture, it is the city of Victor Hugo, of Napoleon, of Robespierre, of Luis the XIV, of la Bastille, the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre Museum, the Champs Ellysées, the Palais de Versailles, L’ Arc du Triomphe, the Cathedral of Notre Dame, etc. It is also a city of classic and modern entertainment, and of the greatest dinning in the world. The Lido and the Moulin Rouge are two of the best showplaces in the world and the Maxim’s has the reputation of being the best restaurant in the world (I didn’t dare to go eat there, out of fear I would have to end up washing dishes). I had a great time in Paris, not only from the touristic and entertainment points of view, but also from the cultural and historical perspective. I spent a full 12 hours at Louvre. With the exception of the Metropolitan Museum in NYC, I had not visited such a great collection of art and history in my whole life. Looking at the Gioconda alone took me more than 15 minutes. I walked the Champs Ellysées all the way from Louvre to L’ Arc du Triomphe, and, from there I walked back to the Lido and watched their magnificent display of lights, magic and, of course, some of the most beautiful women in the world , all of this while drinking Champaign and dining only six feet away from the show. It really looked like I was watching a 3D show.
After this, my first visit, I became a Paris fan, only New York City has the same appeal to me.

I have returned to Paris several times since, and every time I’m there, I feel this inexplicable sensation of being in a familiar place, I feel it like a place I have known from another life, perhaps even from the times of Cossette, Jean Valjean and his indefatigable pursuer Jabert. Paris is and it will always be, a place I feel deeply attached to, culturally and sentimentally, and I will go back to as many times as I can afford, always with the never letdown expectation to have a great time. During my visit to Paris, I was able, much to my own amazement, to speak French, a language I learned a bit of when I was at The Seminary in Riobamba at the age of 13. Later on, I took some French language classes at The Alliance Françoise in Guayaquil where one of my classmates was my dear old friend and an avid reader of my blog, Pepe Salame. Not being able to speak French, or at least let myself be understood in French any more, is one of my greatest frustrations, so much so, that I still think I will return to a French Language school some day in the near future. I just love the French Language, especially when I hear it spoken by a bveautiful and young French girl. It really sounds like music to my ears.
In my next posting: ITALY, HISTORY AND ART