Written Sunday Night
Hello dear diary
I'm back in Quito and what a day its been. Slept so much, deep insane sleep. Woke up, packed my things, pestered Stefano's ma to take me to the airport. On the way there, we passed the abuela's church which was letting out, so we backed up on the freeway for 200 meters or so. That was exciting. Made it to the airport, met a fellow gringo, a quebequer. We chatted about our careers, traveling in ecuador, other stuff until he got on his plane and I waited around for hours until my flight finally stopped getting delayed. I bought a 3 dollar sanwich the size of my fist and they woudn't even give me pickles for free. Cheapskakes.
Walking from the airplane back in Quito, and even flying over the city, I felt that similar out of breath feeling, the heart racing, the stomach flopping that I felt all the time when I first got here. I realized, deeply cornily, that I've started to associate altitude sickness with being at home, or maybe the other way around. Or I'm not used to the hight after a week in 'quil, or maybe I'm just happy to be back in Quito. I took the Metro home which I know was dangerous, chilled out with Ecuamadre and her friend Rosi, who have a standing date every sunday to watch a movie. They are working through the filmography (bibliography? I dont know the word) of this korean director who makes the most barren, depressing films. I kept running in and out of the room and being like "waht just happened!" and rosi would be like "they just cut off her breast!" "he threw her off the bus!" "the store exploded!"
Went out with my friendies, ate indian food, drank mango lassis. Met new canadian friend, drank coffee, made fun of hannah. Went to my house, watched Flatland (an educational movie about the dimensions). Got them a taxi. Way too much caffine in my body right now, no way sleep is coming soon. I might to go Otavalo tomorrow (gift requests?)
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