Under the Volcano

I've wanted to go to Banos de la Agua Santa for three weeks now. I've definitely wanted to get out of Quito.



In Quito there were moments of the Quito glow (see 'narrative of the voyage of the bloody, snake chariot at www.libbyhome.blogspot.com ). The glow of grace which is at least as lucid as that of newly minted gold doubloons (which is what Melville was talking about).

But there were many more moments of the black night of the soul, being naked in the face of dark nystery, seeing El Senor Diablo always walking the bloodied streets.



I come to Banos a lone traveler. The Chief Rollin' Rock has gone to Kansas City to be at his niece's (a legendary tribal princess) wedding. I come to Banos the way the Incans came here, in pilgrimage to a holy place where it is possible to be born again in spirit, in water, perhaps in fire.



It is the place under Tungurahua (5,016 meters), The Black Giant. It is the place that The Black Giant makes.



Ecuadorian families come here for the hot baths and to party. Many Ecuadorians earliest memories are of Banos and the Banos waters.



In October 1999, The Black Giant woke after a long sleep. Scientists predicted an imminent catastrophic eruption. Banos (population 17,000) was evacuated.



Then the Black Giant went silent. When the silence of the mountain continued into January 2000, the residents of Banos forced their way through the army lines, and re-occupied their city.



By late 2002 Banos had returned to the business-as-usual of a slightly tacky tourist trap.



Then in late July, into early August (2006) The Black Giant gave off the fireworks of the apocalypse. People still speak of it as if they were describing a very strange, a very terrible, a very beautiful dream. There was lighting. There was downpours of orange glowing cinders, and ash. There was the appearance of the end of the world. The mountain looked like it was going to blow up and it was going to take the world out.



Then the Black Giant went silent again.



And then, about a week ago, it woke.



Ecuadorian television captured the expression on tourists' faces, their panicked flight, when the ground shook and the Black Giant rained orange glowing cinders and ash, again.



It is quiet now in Banos. There aren't many tourists. The Black Giant hasn't been heard in the city for at least a few days.



I am serene.



I listen.



And I am reborn in spirit, in water, perhaps in fire.