The terrible Ambato earthquake

Pictures from Time Magazine.

Our mission today was to get a birthday card for Margaret. It’s easier said than done (as I’m discovering), but Tom, Julia and I headed into Ambato central where Lucy thought we might get one in the Centre for Culture.

I’d only been into Ambato as far as the Mr Joy mall and that’s at the southern end, I guess. To reach the old city (with some colonial influence) you have to go down a steep hill until you reach the bottom of the valley where the Ambato River flows. The population was 180,000 in 2010 and it does seem about the same size as Peterborough.

The old colonial city wasn’t designed for cars and like colonial Quito, it’s a bit of a clash between old and modern … people and cars. We nosed our way through a series of narrow streets until we found a car park. Car parks are not like Peterborough with barriers and cash machines. It’s a patch of spare ground where something was knocked (or fell) down; you drive in and give them your keys. Cars are parked in a large block, so if yours is at the very back they have to move half a dozen to let you out. Actually, that’s a very extreme example and it takes no time. The keys are left on the windscreen and you get a slip of paper to reclaim your car.

We walked down towards the centre and passed the cathedral. Tom had never been inside, so we popped in for a look. The cathedral was completely destroyed, along with the rest of the city in a massive earthquake in 1949. This killed over 5,000 people and was a 6.4 magnitude. Around three-quarters of buildings in Ambato had to be demolished, but other areas were worse hit. The small town of Libertad was swallowed into a massive fissure, which sounds about as scary as it can get.

The new cathedral is quite modern in style and isn’t very big. On the steps are a number of people begging for cash. There are a lot of very poor people in the city, including many Venezuelans who are fleeing the economic collapse of their country under US sanctions. The USA should be a much better friend to its neighbours and work with them instead of trying to control them. The Venezuelans will sell you a 10,000 bolivar note for $1, the currency is worthless. Other people will offer you a sweet in exchange for cash, it’s a small way of trying to preserve your dignity – you’re not asking for something for nothing. Unlike beggars in the UK, who are often addicts or mentally fragile, these people are just unlucky and poor. In a poor country, to stand out as being poor, you are absolutely poverty-stricken.

There was no gift shop in the cathedral and the cultural centre turned out to be a series of rooms where workshops are held. We went into the city museum, which turned out to be an art gallery. It had some strange Inca-erotic paintings, but no gift shop. An erotic Inca-inspired artwork card might have been ideal.

Tom got his shoes shined by an old man, whose skin resembled the leather of the shoes he was polishing, Julia enjoyed chasing pigeons in the park and we were eventually directed to a shop that sold cards. They were heavily religious, not perfect, but suitable and brought them home to write.

I wanted Julia to write her name in one and for Aureliano to make his mark; I would send the other from me. Julia set to work with gusto and soon both cards were covered in felt pen, destroying some of the religious iconography. On top of that, the envelope had no stick, so I borrowed some of Julia’s glue. With her help, it will be a miracle if the cards can ever be removed from the envelope.

Tom wanted to drive up a very steep road he knew from where you could get a view of the city. It took a while to find it, but we did in the end and you do get an impression of what a steep valley the town is built in.

Some modern buildings look pretty good, there’s another mall under construction, but others seem as if they might fall down well before the next earthquake. There’s a lot of building, but no planning controls. If you’re building your house, it’s your right to build it however you like. Breeze block is the standard building material and often a house will have just the front rendered and painted, leaving the sides and back as Breeze block. People don’t seem to mind. The other common thing is to put in the reinforced concrete skeleton of a building of maybe three storeys and only build the ground floor, the rest has to wait until there’s enough money.

To a tidy north European mindset, it’s very troubling, but here the practicalities of life and making things work on a tight budget are the priority.

Later in the afternoon, we went back into town to post the cards and to get some cash for Lucy. Instead of parking, Tom went round the block (the old colonial square). We went round three or four times, creeping through three sets of lights. Eventually Lucy emerged. She said the main in the post office was an idiot and, if she hadn’t been able to go in front as a pregnant woman, she would have been in there an hour. I don’t know if that means our cards won’t arrive!