El Primer Grito de la Independencia

Thursday evening, the 9th of August, marked the celebration of "El Primer Grito de la Independencia," or the first cry of independence. More a symbolic date than an actual event in history, the 10th of August 1809 was the day that Ecuadorian leaders vowed to gain independence from Spain. It was almost 30 years later before Ecuador was liberated, but "diez de agosto" is the day we celebrate, similar to the 4th of July in the states. Laura, Anyel, Lalita (Laura's host mother), and I took the "tróle" to antique Quito for the celebration on Thursday night. We found a spot on the cement, among about a million others who had come out to appreciate the music, art, and fireworks to accompany the retelling of the story of Quito's independence. All of the museums were open and free to the public, along with the churches and history buildings. The streets were closed for miles around the historic center, so the only way in was via bus or tróle. I've never, ever been in a city as large as Quito, and it was something else to be walking through the historic city center, looking down on a sea of people weaving in and out of the streets. In every direction the streets were completely packed, people moving only for the buses or gentlemen dressed up and prancing around on stilts. Absolutely incredible. I think it must be something like Times Square on New Year's Eve. We watched a beautiful ceremony with narrators, an orchestra, singers, a choir, and beautifully lit photos of past leaders and scenes of the country.

After the ceremony, we stood in the beautiful Plaza de la Independencia, president's mansion on the right, city museum behind, baroque Catholic church on the left, and ornate church of Santo Domingo in front. They lit the fireworks from the top of Santo Domingo, and they flashed practically right on top of us.

Lalita took an early-ish tróle home, and then Laura and Anyel and I spent some time maneuvering through the crowds and admiring the handicrafts. We bought some fresh sweet bread in a friendly little bakery and sat on the steps admiring the indigenous music and dancing, along with the other thousands who were still around at midnight. We finally got in line for a tróle home, which would have been about an hour of waiting, when my host parents and aunts and uncles startled us from behind. Fortuitous. They said we were wasting our time waiting there, and should walk another 10 minutes south to catch an empty tróle. They were right... I couldn't believe that we ran into them, because there must have been a million people packed into that little historic center.

For a feel of what the streets look like empty, I have pictures of La Calle De La Ronda on my photobucket site under pictures of Quito. It's breathtaking at night. There's something magnificent about a city on a hill, surrounded by green, lush, Andes Mountains and dramatic bleached white clouds.