The Mumble Trucks of Quito

I’ve been back “home” in Ecuador for more than a week now. I’m pretty happy to be on this end of Week 1, given how tumultuous it was. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me that coming back to Quito and moving into a new apartment at the same time would cause me considerable emotional instability. I am, contrary to what this oversight might indicate, reasonably self-aware.

In any case, I’m back, I have a roof and a bed and hot water and electricity and a tv that I can turn on and lots of other good things. Currently my toilet isn’t working, which is somewhat less than ideal, but the good news is that I can fill a bucket from the shower and flush the toilet with that until the plumber comes. Tah-dah! It makes me happy to have been raised by two of the most resourceful people I know.

In other return-to-Quito news, I have survived my week one of three in an intensive Spanish course. I am pleased to report that I did quite well until about 12:15 on Thursday. It seems that at that time the linguistic area of my brain shut down from overuse, and was down for recovery for a couple days. Today (Saturday) it seems to be functioning again. I expected this shut-down to occur. I’ve decided it’s a safety feature programmed into our brains to prevent implosion and total destruction. It happens to me every time- Germany, Russia, Argentina, China, and now Ecuador. It’s good to be able to count on some things, isn’t it? 

It’s loud in my new apartment. It’s funny what you notice as weird when you leave and come back. For me, one of those things has been the art of honking in Quito. Where I’m from honking is pretty straight-forward. You honk to warn someone of danger or when someone’s driving like they’re in a coma and you lose your patience. The only other reason to honk is if you’re passing the house of someone you know.

Here, it’s a much more developed art. People honk here for the reasons mentioned about, although there’s a lot more honking to say, “Careful, I’m coming” instead of, “You crazy moron!! Who taught you how to drive!?!? Get out of my way!!” For example, drivers here tap the horn when they’re coming to an intersection to warn other drivers who might be running the stop sign. But the fun honking is what I’m talking about. It took me a couple months to begin distinguishing one honk from another.

If, for example, I’m walking and I hear a car behind me tap his horn once or twice very lightly, I know it’s a taxi, asking if I want a ride. If I’m trying to sleep in on a Saturday morning and I hear this: honk-honk-honk-honk-honk-honk (pause; repeat) it means the truck with the gas tank refills is passing by. If I needed to exchange my tank for a full one, I’d run out and flag him down. If I didn’t need to exchange my tank, I would feel around blindly on my nightstand for my earplugs and go back to sleep.

But my favorite is the mumble truck. The mumble truck doesn’t actually use the horn. Instead he has an electronic megaphone attached to the roof of the pickup. In the bed are various kinds of produce for sale. The mumble truck is so named (by me) because the quality of the megaphone is always so terrible that it’s essentially impossible to understand what he’s selling. It sounds kinda like this:

“Masransabandabasintreporundolardanesco-la!”

It’s sortof a chant, with everything being chanted on the same note except the last syllable, which goes down a couple notes. I’ve never bought anything from a mumble truck, but I think I will sometime this year. That’s the nice thing about living somewhere for an extended time- no hurry.

Well, while I wrote this the plumber came, fixed my toilet, made a big mess on my floor and left. I think I’ll go mop my bathroom floor (which, in the plumber’s defense, needed to be mopped before he came) and use my newly-functioning toilet.

Ah, it’s gonna be a good day.