"Polite, meaningless words", in Yeats's phrase, are unnecessary just now in the central highland region of Ecuador. In the city of Ambato, the imminent eruption of a nearby volcano dominates everyday life, so that small talk usually concerns the latest fall of volcanic ash or the best brand of gas-mask for protection against the harmful particles in the air. It certainly makes a change from trying to make conversation about the weather in a country where climatic variation is barely perceptible.
It is over a month since an orange alert was issued for the towering volcano, Tungurahua (5016 metres). Local and international experts had registered a marked increase in activity, including violent explosions of rocks and ash. People living at the foot of the mountain were ordered to evacuate. Their faces showed bewilderment as they piled their possessions into trucks and left their lives behind. The lucky ones went to family in other parts of the country, while the less fortunate have had to make do with hastily organised refuges in schools. Although their homes may still be standing, they were right to worry about their futures. Without any income to rely on, life in the refuges is tough.
But many of the inhabitants of the evacuated town of Baqos are showing that they have a fighting spirit. Baqos was well known for its entrepreneurial success, most evident in thriving adventure tourism and a wide range of local crafts. Now, the craftsmen are taking their wares to markets across the country and turning the situation to their advantage. Those in the adventure trade are also making the most of the disaster by selling the volcano to tourists. "The Eyes of the Volcano" is a campsite set up on the side of a mountain facing Tungurahua. The campsite welcomes visitors from all over the world to come and witness the volcano's wrath.
By day, the action usually involves continual black explosions blasting clouds of gas and ash up into the sky. By night, observers are likely to see an impressive fireworks display of glowing red rocks and lava. The last time I went to see the volcano it was shrouded in mist, but the sound of the deep rumbling coming from its belly was enough to make me want to run for my life.
With the eruption looming, Ambato's street vendors' latest cry is "gas masks, three for 25 pence", where once they sold soap or oranges. The university where I work has sealed the windows with masking tape to protect against ash, and then added crosses on the larger panes in case of possible earth tremors which could accompany the eruption. However, a red alert, which would signify immediate eruption, has yet to be declared.
The initial fear of the unknown has been transformed into a morbid fascination with the mountain's machinations. Why else would people come to sit within striking distance of a force which could blow them into oblivion? Those who stay up every night to wait for the next explosion say it has the power of a drug - and they could be in for a long trip. The last eruption, early this century, was a two-year process, so it is comforting to believe that the pattern will repeat itself. Thoughts of a more violent possibility are more difficult to accept.
It is easy to forget that Tungurahua has already taken some victims. In the rush to evacuate, the people didn't think to take their dogs or cats, seeing them as functional guard-dogs or mouse-catchers rather than family pets. As a result, the majority have already starved to death.
Likewise, many of the inhabitants of the local zoo died in transit. Baqos, which is built on the lava of previous eruptions, is now truly a ghost town. The only exception are the two monks in the monastery who insist on remaining to use the power of prayer to pacify the beast.
Local legend also personifies the various volcanoes in the Andes and tells how they have love affairs and wars with each other. Volcanic activity can then be attributed to their disputes. Fittingly, perhaps, Guaghuan Pinchincha, 12 kilometres outside the country's capital, Quito, is also currently active. There was a moderate explosion last week, and Quito's streets were clouded and showered with ash, to the delight of opportunists who looted the shops, unnoticed in the general chaos.
More seriously, the capital was isolated when the international airport closed to allow ash clearance from the runways. Ecuador's drastic financial crisis, the recent destruction of the coast's infrastructure by El Nino and now the threat of volcanic eruptions near Quito and Ambato have led the more alarmist social commentators to say the country is heading for a repeat of the seven plagues of Egypt.
Tungurahua and Pichincha, would appear to be having a long-running battle this time. We can only hope that they don't involve Cotopaxi in their arguments. At 5,897 metres, Cotopaxi dominates the landscape as the highest active volcano in the world and would have enormous destructive potential. Those two monks had better be praying hard.