Nearly

I haven't written in a while. I'll put that off to the big ole paper I had to write to finish up the ICRP class, but that's not that good an excuse. Mostly, I've been doing very little and qualifying it as a lot, hoping to squeeze the final drop of toothpaste out of Quito's tube. I didn't approach the Crest with a very good strategy and there's holes in the plastic and I've still got a bad taste in my mouth but at least I'm trying. I'm hoping for no cavities as what I remember from here.

I didn't make huge travel plans, I'm not going to Colombia or the beach or the USA like some people. My sister isn't coming and I'm not going on some epic Oriente adventure with my host family. I'm watching movies and staying up late and talking spanish. I'm trying to learn how to cook all the things I've come to love. I'm on facebook chat a lot, trying to remember slang and how we communicate. I'm missing my mom. I'm eating a lot. I'm not writing every day, I'm not reading, I don't write down how much I spend, I've started taking taxis over buses and eating french fries.

It's ok, I hope, to do all this. To relish the cheapness and the conjugation while I can. To watch 30 Rock with pilar, to wash the dishes. It's ok that I'm not off having the adventure of my life. It's alright to stretch packing over 6 days of folding and rolling. I'm doing ok, I'm saying goodbye, I'm transitioning in that slow, miserable way that I do.

And it's not all going to be boring. On Tuesday (tomorrow! Only one day to slog through!) I'm going to Mindo with Aracely and her sister and cuñado to zipline and eat chocolate and see orchids and on Thursday I'm going to Otavalo to buy monstrous amounts of handicrafts. And friday? Saturday? Breathing deep, packing suitcases, hugging people, feeling anxious outside at night, and getting ready for that too-long layover that will take me home.