Yesterday I began this blog, and when I went to add pictures, I discovered a problem. All 666 of my pictures (interesting number, huh?), with the exception of 2, stored on the camera compact disk were gone. All from the second half of the summer and every picture I've taken here in Ecuador over the last two months are completely erased. I didn't continue writing the blog because I was trying my best to recover what I could from the camera, on the one hand, and I was in complete disbelief over such a loss on the other. Yet, today as I check once more, the pictures remain deleted and I am stumped as to what happened.
In my frustration with the camera and the disk, I decided to leave them both home this morning for chapel (the Monday morning gathering in the library where we worship, the kids present their memory work, and someone from the community delivers a short message from the Bible). Well, I shouldn't have so hastily punished my camera and chip because I soon regretted their not being with me. We missed out on those great shots this morning too--the construction of a toy helicopter to symbolize the unity of a Christian church body. As the saying goes, I cut off my own nose to spite my face. I'm constantly learning how to roll with the punches. So, though I have no great shots to share with you like I had planned, I do have a nice story of a very pleasant outing. After much delay, here goes:
Some friends picked us up for an outing in the direction of Banos. Russ, Kyleen, and A. J., long time missionaries originally from Texas, drove us into the mountain foothills west of Shell for about 30 minutes. We wound our way up and around the Pastaza River and then deeper into the countryside of another Ecuadorian province. When we arrived in the sprinkling rain the restaurant parking lot revealed a crowd of people ready to do as we had also planned: go fishing for our lunch. Amidst the hoards we found a bunch of very basic fishing poles resting against posts. The poles consisted of a stick of bamboo, about three yards of fishing line, and a hook. We each grabbed one and pierced a piece of fish guts with the hook and tossed our line into the water. The moment the bait hit the water, numerous foot-long trout fought hard to dislodge the tasty (?) morsel.
This part of our day took all of about 3 minutes: catch, unhook, and deposit into rudimentary bucket nine unsuspecting fish. Mine happened to be a rainbow trout--first one I've ever caught--not really sure it counts if it took zero effort.
Russ, the leader of our pack, hauled the bucket to the little shack nearby to have a knife-wielding young man remove the guts (and the heads off three) of the nine fish. Once the deed was done, all were bagged up and thrown on the scale. Russ paid $16.30 for these nine fish and we carried our bag up the hill to the restaurant.
The ladies in the kitchen take it from there. One scrapes the fish exterior under constant running water while another opens the fish wide to clean the inside and to rub in a mixture of salt and lime. She also makes about eight parallel cuts down the side of each fish to facilitate the cooking process. The fish sit momentarily to absorb these flavors then are handed to the person manning the grill just outside their window. This tall, sweaty fellow then scrubs the grill and lays out all nine newly caught trout over the hot coals. After about 10 minutes, and three turns, the fish are removed and handed back to the ladies in the kitchen. One grabs fresh plates and piles on them steamed rice, salad of tomato with onion and lettuce, and fried plantains (bananas). Lastly the fish are added to the plates and then some brave, strong woman brings all nine plates in one armful to our two tables.
It was a sight to behold. Eyes staring down at the plates while eyes stared up at their captors. No one balked at the situation; since our children love eating with their fingers and for this meal it was highly encouraged, no one minded their food watching. Suffice it to say, three of our four children passed on eating their plantains, but not on the fish. At meal's end, the only thing left on their plates were fish carcasses and charred skin. Doug and I agreed that this was the best meal we'd had since our arrival into Ecuador. It was so delicious and as fresh as one could get.
If any of you makes the journey here, we're taking you to the river and the restaurant atop the hill. Best fish you'll ever catch and eat!
Blessings, kim
yummmm!!!!
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