BIG ADVENTURES LOTS OF STUFF HAS HAPPENED

So I'm tired today. Deep tired, tired despite sleep. I'm in my bed in yesterday's shirt and the very idea of putting on clothes makes me cringe. All I want to do today is eat macaroni and cheese and watch Two And A Half Men.

What made me so tired? I guess I'll have to tell you, dear blog readers.

I went on the adventure. The adventure that sounds rediculous, the one your mother would tell me not to go on. Or, knowing my mother (plural, actually, Ecuamadre and USAmadre would both are pretty into leaping into things feet first), she'd probably just tell me to bring along clean socks and more cash.

I woke up at 8 feeling hellish. That last entry, where I said I couldn't sleep? that was the beginning of 5 hours of the kind of non-sleeping bed-laying tossing-turning re-reading praying-to-god night that you hope comes once a year. Woke up at Frenchie's call, ran around the house throwing things into my purse. Met at Coffee Tree, rode to the North Terminal, talking about factory farming and political freedoms. The taxi was only 5 bucks which was astonishing. I promise I'm not going to tell you the price of every single taxi I took, just the majority.

On the bus, I discovered he's a SOMTHING AWFUL brethren (hear that ZACH?) and takes pictures obsessively out the bus window. We discussed the lack of safety of traveling with strangers you meet in the airport, showed each other our Driver's Licenses to proove our legit-ness.

Otavalo's a really beautiful market, really beautiful. I got bargained into buying these embroidered pillow covers so hopefully when you all see my house you will notice how mature and classy I am because I have nicely decorated throw pillows. Do not steal these pillow cases, spill anything on them or vomit near them. Thank you! I also bought grandma a present (al fin!), alpaca-themed leg warmers (get ready from some rockin presents, ladies of Kalamazoo) and a new T shirt because I had only bought one shirt and it had become clear that the adventure was going to be a two-day one, no safe return to Quito by crepusculo (look it up, my goofiest Spanish vocab word). Jump, feet don't hit the bottom, keep kicking.

Next stop was the town Iliana, famous for its limpiezas by yachuks. I did this in Otavalo with my program, but I'm always eager to get hit by sticks and rubbed by eggs in a dark room. We took a taxi to the center of town where we were stared at so hard by Quechua people going about thier business. We started walking in a possibly northward direction, hoping to find the magical hide-out of Yachuks. While walking, a pickup pulled up behind us and I saw my friend Javier (MY BUS FRIEND) and his ma and dad. He lept out of the truck and started talking about how happy he was to see me, about 85 times more friendly than I'd ever seen him. Of course I introduced my friend as Frances and not Francois, but Javier just started speaking to him in French, so my idiocy was hidden or at least put to good use. We told Javier that we were looking for limpiezas, and he was like, "Oh I'll take you to my family's yachuk, hop in the back of the truck."

There's few emotions besides thrill you can feel when you are driving straight down a mountain on cobblestone roads with a practical stranger at the wheel and another in the back with you. I guess you could be scared or anxious, but then, I wasn't. I was in the mountains, I knew where (or at least to who) I was going, who I was with. I could carry all I had on my back, over one arm. I could run in the lower altitude, in my sneakers. And I was going to get cured. We all were. I was awake and proud and strong and safe.

They drove us all the Panamericana highway and then we walked to a crumbly house with full out buildings, an outdoor kitchen, latrine, chicken shack. Papa Javier went up to the old lady sweeping the dirtfloor in front of the house, and they jovially yelled at each other in Quechua, negotiating the price. Javier's family is real Otavaleño, both his father and him have long braids that they've never cut. His mother barely spoke spanish and was dressed in the embroidered white blouse, long skirt, and cloth sandals that I never stop thinking are beautiful. Javier offered us his father's chagra (farm plot) house to stay in that night, which was just so kind that I made up an aunt waiting for me in Ibarra to get out of it. We planned on coffee in Quito instead. Jesus, what hospitiality! Would you stop and offer a ride to some nut-job foreigner from your school who you thought asked you out on the bus on the first week of school but really just wanted to hear your genius ideas about architechture theory? Maybe I would, but would I offer them a ride in the back of my truck? Go out of my way for her and her Canadain friend? Javier is a nice guy, that's for sure.

Unfortunately, the Yachuk wasn't there, so we sat in this empty dark room in this family's house for an hour and a half. I took a nap on a bench covered in a blanket that smelled like horse poop. Francois folded his multiple purchases and drank avena drink. After two hours or so, we were all (me, him, the old woman, her kid, her infant grandbaby) were all sitting on this pile of rocks by the highway watching the traffic go by. A stout man in Otavaleño dress got off the bus and dashed accross the highway, holding an armful of plants. The Yachuk had arrived.

The three of us huddled in a tiny dark room, filled with candels, children's chairs, animal hides, and cigarette butts. Francois went first, first getting beaten by dry leaves and rubbed by a candle. Then he stood on a straw mat in his underwear while the yachuk beat him raw with these stinging leaves that leave tiny cuts on your body. The next step was spitting alcohol on the leaves, lighingting the whole thing on fire, waving it out, and then rubbing that on your body. After that came a round of rubbing with raw eggs, then volcanic stones. After, he spit aguardiendte on all parts of you, really cleaing out those cuts. Next, he poured strong rose cologne into a bottle of old tabacco leaves, and then spit that on you. Most of this was acompanied by chain smoking Lark cigarrettes, occasionally taking a mouthful of smoke and blowing it into the crown of your head.

I was next, and he concentrated awfully hard on limpiando my butt-area and near my... sosten. I guess there was sin stored there? (I'm joking)

Shivering and smelly, we go dressed and walked along the highway a ways, found a taxi and went to Cotocachi, a town that seems to only sell leather goods. I bought nothing, Francois bought a bull whip. Useful! We got a long taxi to Ibarra, 20 k away. Wandered around in the rain, found a hostel, ate shwarma, bought a bar of soap, showered, trying to smell less worse. Drank Zhumir. Slept.

Woke up cranky, not hung over. Ate breakfast (eggs and ice cream) at the original helado de paila store. This is a big deal because it was invented in either 1850 or 1880, either way a long time ago. It's made by stiring fruit juice, egg whites and sugar in a large copper bowl on a bed of ice, straw and salt. Its labor intensive, light, sweet and very good. We inquired about going paragliding, and they were about to let us go, but told us the instructor was in Quito and could we do it our selves? No, ma'am, we would die.

Bus back to Quito, nice quiet, ate habas, felt sick, listened to Stefano's excellent Spañol CD. Which I copied from your mom, by the way Stef. Took a taxi back to the Fosch, ate wonderful, Britta-worthy salad and Italian food, parted ways. So strange to spend all your time with a person you really don't know at all but have no reason to not be honest to. Refreshing to have a relationship based on a shared desire for fun/seeing the province of Cotapaxi, not school or work or manipulation. Not that I want all my relationships like that, not that they could be, but it woke me up to how routine my life here in Quito is. I love my routine, it keeps me going, makes me happy, but sometimes rides in pickup trucks can do a lot of good in making your heart go fast and your eyes stay open.

After all that, though, I was eager to retreat back into littleDana. I put on my pajamas, made soup, and watched Friends and Ugly Betty. I can't be awesome all the time. Jimmy was home and he convinced me to come out with him. Going out with J is always an adventure and usally ends the same way. It reminds me of 10th and 11th grade evenings in DTSS (who remembers that acronym? Downtown Silver Spring, DUHHHHHH), wandering around familiar streets, waiting to bump into people you know. I'd usally keep a count and it was rarely less than twelve or fifteen people that I'd met before, plus thier cousins and friends and cute guys from school.

But there, on Fenton and Colesville, at the movie theater and Chik-Fill-A and Barnes and Noble and The AstroTurf, I knew those people, pluse Eric and Elliott who I'd come with, plus we all spoke the same language, and we weren't drinking cane liquor in the sidewalk. I remember meeting a friend-of-a-friend who was literally drinking PURPLE DRANK, cough syrup, vodka and cherry Slurpee. I actually turned and ran away. In Quito, with Jimmy, if there were Slurpees, I'm sure that's be common.

Am I making sense here? What scared me in high school, what was assumed then, is normal and commonplace and completley foreign to me here. I keep my self safe, sure, I turn and run if I need to just like in high school, and I say no to anything holding any of the ingredients of Purple Drank, but it still has the same allure it did when I was 15. Outside, badly dressed, light rain, just turning corners waiting to see old friends. Of course, the are Jimmy's friends and not mine, but it's almost as good to call myself "la gringa" and grin and pretend to understand jokes. It's not that that fun, I've only done it three or four times in five months, but sometimes its what I want to do.

Eventually this one guy with his 8 or so cousins left, and then some guys who I'm pretty sure were about 16 and cokeheads, and it was just me and Jimmy and his friend Lucho. We took a taxi home. They bought more Norteño because they are alcoholic idiots and I went to bed.

Because I've been such a bad blogger, I thought I'd play catch up a little and go over some fun/cool/important stuff that has happened since I last updated about my scintillating life. Surprise surpirse, I'm going to make a list, because I am very bad at transititon sentances.

December 2. Went to a poetry reading with Ecuamadre. It was very beautiful, excellent poets from Ecuador, Peru and Colombia. I was proud I could understand everything. Favorite line: "Escribir cambia equilibrio/ dame con mi ultima respiro balance" "Writing changes eqilibrium/ give me, with my last breath, balance." Of course, I tried to write brilliant poetry in Spanish, and of course, it didn't turn out very well. Not like STEFANO here, who wins prizes in his second language. But then I wrote about that, and it turned out ok:

Agredecido

Sometimes

I forget Spanish is beautiful

But when I listen to the consenants

sound out slowly

I can remember

I tell myself

Interpret the night

not as a metaphor

between your slippery

poet paws

Follow the sine wave

with the grip of logic

some day, you'll find your zero

I promise myself

I will trust my fingers

I will memorize my face.

So yeah, that doesn't really come togehter right, but its soemting. Its the first non-essay non-journal non-rap I've written in a few months, so that feels nice.

December 3-5- Fiestas de Quito! This was so fun! There were lots of things I didn't go to, but I'm happy with what I did. I didn't go to a bull fight because Ecuamadre is really against them, and learning more, it does sound pretty gorey and inhumane. They kill the bull really slowly and agonizingly, and I just don't want to be a part of that. Even eating meat here is getting to me. However on the positive side, I did go to the El Disfile de Fraternidad which means The Brotherhood Parade. It was held on Ave Shyris, a huge street at the bottom of Parque Carolina, where the citizens march when (not if) they want to overthrow the government. The parade was huge, probably three or more hours long. People were packed along the street. I was with Aracely, and she bought a tiny stool one of the many stool-vendors was selling so that she could see. There were lots of different dance troupes ranging from special-ed schools to dozens of indigenous cultral groups to giant puppets dancing with each other. At least 15 high school and college marching bands, all heavily featuring cheerleaders in unbelievably short skirts and many xylophone players.

I almost got my camera stolen for like the fourth time- It was in Aracely's pocket, a lady started reaching in. Cely started yelling at her in Spanish, and the lady got all mad that we had caught her. What? We were sort of spooked, so we went into a Pollo Campero, which is very different than in the States. There are only maybe five menu items and it is very expensive. Its not fast food at all really, its like a place your parents take you out to dinner.

After that, we went home and took a nap so that we could go to Ferria Quitumbe. Quitumbe is at the very far south of the city, about an hour and a half by trole. Cely, Melba and I went and the trole was PACKED. Luckily, we hadn't brought anything of value to get stolen, but it was still nuts. Eventually we got to Quitumbe which had been turned into a giant fairground. We wandered around for an hour or so, looking for food, people watching, and enjoying the rarness of being outside at night. I ate cebiche from a food stall and I didn't get diarreah or food poisioning or throw up or even feel sick which is a huge accomplishment. And i can drink the tap water now too!

Anyway, we were waiting around for our favorite band, Calle 13 to come on, but the current band played these horrible Disney-esque songs, so we wandered around, looking at crafts, people playing, just enjoying being in a new place. By 10, Called 13 was playing and it was PACKED. I am not kidding. There were at least 5.000 people there, maybe 10.000. Lots. The show itsef was amazng even if we had to depend on the Jumbo TV Screen things and Cely wished she still had her stool. I've only started listening to Calle 13 here through ñaño, but they really are amazing, very powerful and positive music and a very powerful show. The main guy, the rapper was like "I want all the guys here to give themselves a round of applause, and to respect women and themselves. I want all the women here to give them selves a round of applause, to remember to stick up for yourselves, to never let any one push them around. I want all the homosexuals, the bisexuals, the transexuals, the people who don't even know what they are to give themselves a round of applause because you are fighitng a good fight, to know your self, and to stay strong against society." That's pretty sharp contrast from a country that was iffy about showing Modern Family because there are gay guys in it.

So that was amazing, and then at midnight it was Aracely's birthday. The show was over by 1, and we were thinking of taking a taxi back north, but knew it would cost like 20$. Luckily, the trole was packed and seemed safe, so we spend 50 cents each instead. The trole was packed again, but everyone was jazzed from the show and friendly and cheerful. We went straight to south station and instead of stopping at the stops every kilometer or so, the driver would just ask if anyone wanted to stop there. The stations themselves were closed, so he just opened the doors the the curb, and people jumped out at will. It was one of those times were everyone is working together, feeling united and laughing. We kept yelling "Que vive Quito! Qui vive Calle 13! Que vive el Trole!" and stuff like that. I told a group of high schoolers that it was my friends birthday, and the whole bus sang to Aracely as we shot through Quito at 2 am.

Eventually, we clambered off the bus and fell asleeeeeep. Que Vive Fiestas de Quito!

Domingo 12 de Deciembre- Went to Ibarra with Sarvie, IGGY, Ecuamadre and another exchange student and his mom. That was fun, we went to a lot of the places we went in Otavalo. Additionally, we also took the Ecuador naked picture for the SusHouse 2011 calender! If you don't know what I am talking about, just ignore that last sentance. If you do know what I am talking about, tell me if you want one. Once I upload my pictures, I'll put those up there.

Martes 14- Improv Class preformance! Superfun, pictures to come as well. Additionally, I wrote a rant, we all did, a sort of slam poetry thing.

Here it is:

Si, que cueraso eres. En tu bikini, tus tacos, piernas flacas, uñas con manicure. Esto no me moletsa. Estoy feliz que discubriste tu moda y te sientes bella. Lo que me molesta es como oscilas entre passiva y agression y blandes los dos como bistrui. Eres passiva cuando dejes tu pelado a empujarte, ignorar tu mente, valorar tu cola mas que tu car. Eres passiva cuando pierdas la independencia y sueños para que trabajaste cuando eramos niñas. Y eres competitivo tambien, con cosas que no son partidos: tu cuerpo, tus habitos, tu vida intima, tu novio, tus jenes deseãdor, tu perfume, tu carro, tu pelo, tus vacaciones, tus vacilas, tu cellular......

Quiero ser tu amiga, pero es dificil a no caerme en celos cuando no me dejas espacio a ser quien son. Y quien soy? Con mis muslos gorditos y my voz alta y ni un par de tacones y my closet? Soy mujer, como tu. Tal vez te da verguenza a llamarte una mujer y no una chica o una dama. Pero, para mi, me da fuerza.

Here's the rough English version

Yup, you sure look good in a bikini, your heels, your skinny thighs, your manicure. That doesn't bother me. I'm glad you found your style and you feel pretty. What really gets undermy skin is how you swich from passive to competive and you weild them both with alarming clarity. You're passive when you let guys push you around, push up your body (you know what part I'm talking about) and push down your mind. Passive when you forget the goals and the independance that you worked for when we were kids. And your'e competitive too, with things that aren't games: your body, your habits, your sex life, your boyfriend, your designer jeans, your perfume, your car, your vacations, your phone..

I want to be your friend, but its hard not to fall into jealosy when you don't give me space to be who I am. and who am I? With my thick thighs and loud voice and not a pair of heels in my closet? I'm a woman, just like you. Maybe its shame ful for you to call yourself a woman, and not a lady or a girl. But for me, it gives me strenght.

So the feminism and fun continues in Quito, soon to be augmented by family! I'm so excited!

Today was a Good Day

Today was a good day! Lots of good stuff happened. Right now I´m really stressed out packing for my trip tomorrow, and I´m eating trail mix, and vaguely afraid that a serial rapist is going to get me ( I just read The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo) and pretty cranky. But it was still a great day.

The day started early, at like 6 am. My mom made me grilled cheese and this really excellent juice. Sometimes I hate papaya juice, but today it was papaya-maracuya-orito juice and that was so good! I took a shower and felt really clean. I put on my favorite shirt and shoes. I got on the bus to Cumbayá, and then I got on another bus to a further suburb called Puembo. I went there to get my volunteering project figured out. The bus ride was about an hour, very relaxing. Got to the sub-centro de salud, met my mentor, Dra. Veronica Espinoza, who is about 30 and really friendly and overworked. She was organizing a mission of volunteer doctors who were going door to door asking all the people of Puembo if they had disabilities and what care they were getting.

I watched her orient about 50 doctors for an hour or so, and I chatted with this awesome lady named Dina who may have been a prostitute. She was dressed like one, at any rate. Anyway, she was showing the doctors around, and being like the local guide. She was just really nice and chatty when I didn´t know anyone, and she said she´ll bring me some avacados next week because its avacado season. Cool! Dina left to go lead people around her neighborhood, and I talked to the head nurse in the sub-center. I do not know her name, but she is determined, proud, capable, and excellent. She is going to teach me alot. There is another nurse, and they both showed me around, the file room, the vaccine center, the baby room, the doctor´s room, the kicthen/pharmaceutical storage area. Its very very bare bones, their main job is distributing birth control, vaccines, and preventing malnutricion. Perfect. That´s what I´m looking for. I´m going to work there on Thursdays from 830- 11, and all of January. So excited to learn how a poor rural clinic functions!

Around 1130 I took the bus back to Cumbayá. I ate some mediocre pasta with Jamie and Aracely, and Jamie (look at me with my friends and their blogs) and talked about our rap album. We are both so jazzed, its so fun to be with someone so enthusiastic. Then I went to Improv class. Improv class just rules. We aren´t producing anything to sneeze at, but we are all learning a ton of theory, games, cooperacion, all that good stuff. The class is really starting to bond and work to gether well. We are all comfortable, like, rolling on to each other. We worked our way up to Freeze! today, and that was a thrill. I celebrated by using the phrase ¨give me dome¨immeditely. Classay. My class is having a preformance on Saturday in the Plaza del Teatro Sucre, the main theater in Old Town, and I really wish I could go, but I have to go to Esmeraldas! boo!

On Tuesdays after Improv I have my Exchange student/ICRP class, but I dont on thursdays, so I hung out with some people from my improv class. Really. All by myself. Without Hannah or my brother or anybody. Granted, two of them were gringos, and we spoke english a lot of the time, but I´m pretty aspergers-ly proud about this. Its been so hard to make friends and put yourself out there, but here I was talking honestly, being goofy, telling about the time I got drunk at Passover when I was nine. (but let´s face it, who hasn´t?). We even went to the burger restaurant near school and I got a milkshake, and Maria Jose gave me half of her sanduche (that´´s how you spell sandwich in Ecuador), and I didn´t even care that the main ingredients were American Cheese, ground beef, and potatoes. I was hanging with friends!

But then, I had to go to class. Its art class at4. At 420, the teacher hadn´t show up, so I went home. He might have shown up just as I was leaving campus, but we´ll never know. Took the bus to abuela´s house. Chatted with the approx. 17 people that were there, including: Abuela, the guard Javier, my madre, the guard dog, some new turtles they just got, two gardener people, Diego my uncle, the two kids Diego was toutoring in calculus, my uncle Carlos, my uncle Carlos´patient, Jimmy´s three friends waiting outside for Jimmy to finish working on another friend, Malcolm, and my cousin Moni-Pati. Then I read an article about high schoolers´perception of thier racial identity in Brazil. Yeah.

Malcolm and I had ¨sopito¨which refers to any food you eat after 5 pm. It can also be refered to as ¨cafecito¨or ¨merienda¨which means snack. sopito today was a large bowl of vegetable soup, some cold mashed potatoes with pieces of scrambled egg in them (bad), pieces of chicken, and some cake. Ok, whatever. I had my sopito, and my papaito, and my polloito and my tortito. I went to Jimmy´s office, and he worked on my neck/ jaw for a while. Feels better, he´s good at what he does. He put this adhesive tape on my jaw that is supposed to de-stress my muscle. Its on my face and bright blue and I´m supposed to leave it on for a week. We´ll see.

After that, Madre and I walked a few blocks to this GIANT slightly stalinist church to see the symphony. Admittedly, they are not fantastic, but its the Quito Symphony Orchestra no matter what. We got there early and chatted with my madre´s friend, her exchange student, and the exchange student´s friends, who all spoke horrible spanish, were extremely nice, and probably much much smarter than me. I had a 25 minute crush on the overly aryan boy, we discussed our favorite vegetables. The music was nice, but went on too long as it always does. I fell asleep for a while, even on the uncomfortable church pews. I gave up trying to look cool in front of mr. blond hair.

Took a taxi home and that jerk tried to charge me 2 dollars when it was clearly a 125 ride and he drove badly. I gave him 150 and got out. Yeah.

Now I´m here in my pjs, ready to sleep, but needing to pack some long sleeves and deet first. Excited to see some manglares in real life, not excited to get covered in black fly bites, which itch and hurt and give you malaria. Whoops. Have a good weekend everyone!

Un Ratito

So, my buddy Daedal is studying in Greece, and he wrote

dana, in my ethnography class today we got to talking about ecuador and how they used to have the same sense of time as the greeks in that it is event-based rather than time-based. apparently a few years ago the government decided that they were going to change this and make it so that meetings and other various things always started right when they said they'd start. i'm wondering if this was actually successful and if it's changed or if you find that the culture is still event-based instead of time-based like the US? let me know :-). blockquote>

I wrote back,

its really a mix. I also learned about the event based thing, but not in relation to the greeks. I learned about it as a ¨polychronic¨vs ¨monochronic¨which are such totally greek terms. Anyway, so most of western culture is monochronic, but Ecuador +Latin America + ancient greece were polychronic, so they are really into multitasking and not worring about time things, partially due to the fact that there are no seasons, so there´s no real rush to make it through the hard part of the year like there is when you have a winter.

Acutal manifestation of this: the word ¨un ratito¨ is super common. it means ¨in a little bit¨and its totally appropriate to say it to anyone, in a business meeting, on the phone, whatever, and just ignore the other person to do something else. So un ratito is still in effect, but classes, meetings, importatnt stuff starts on time, and my teachers get mad if you arrive late. However, dinners, going out, casual stuff is usually late. Usually things start on time, but end up running over so the second parts start late. Like my friend George came over when he said he would, at nine, but we didn´´t actually go bikining until 945. Its just less stress about time.

What is this Day?

Written last night.



What is this day? What is going on? How did I get here?

Let the days flow by, let the water hold me down. Talking Heads. Breathe.

Woke up at 6, showered, felt depressed about my hair. Madre didn’t want to wake up quite yet, so I started making the juice. I put in some defrosted melon, some pineapple chunks (oh no, this means fermented pineapple-rind juice in a couple days), and some very squishy fruit from the coast called arasai. Which had worms in it, a little meal worm that I felt on my hand, so I had to throw the arasai away and we just had very watery juice.

Going to school, I encountered a boy in my improv class. He read the bible, I slept. Sociology, we had a substitute who asked us why we are taking this class. Why do I take any class? Why do I study sociology? Why am I in Ecuador? Why am I awake right now?

Drank coffee with the ladies. It was pouring rain and I couldn’t get alert, no matter how much we rehashed our gossip. Went to a computer lab, worked semi-diligently on my sociology paper. However, it still has big sentances in English like “en comparision de los dependistas, los que siguen la teoria de sistemas mundiales THINK THAT COUNTRIES SHOULDN’T INTEGRATE MULTILATERAL SYSTEMS INTO THEIR SOCIAL PROGRAMS.” Stuff like that. Real smooth right now. I also talked to Terry and Jon and Max, and that was nice.

Tried to get lunch with Mike and Jamie, but we were all weird about where to go. I realized if I want to have coffee and ride the bus and eat lunch, I can spent $3 on lunch. Whoops. So its basically Chinese vegetarian restaurant or snacks. I was all enthusiastic about my new life eating only from the Chinese vegetarian restaurant that I ordered a new dish, Tallerin Tai Pen. It was salty, soupy, lacking in vegatables, and gave me horrible gas. Well, not particularly worse that “the fartiest day in history” (see Otavalo entry), but still pretty bad.

Best part of the day. Maybe. I went to the library and found “The World According to Garp,” my second favorite book, in English and Spanish. I checked them both out. I have read it in English so many times I can read it in Spanish easily. I’m on page 30! Went to Spanish class, which produced some real gems of sentances, like “she abused our friendship when she stole my money,” and “the storage closet took advantage of World War II.” We also discussed the topic “Is religion good?”

Next up came Flora and Fauna of Ecuador. Woooo boy that class is dull. Its just powerpoints that are like “this is the cloud forest. Here are some pictures. Here are some plants that live in the cloud forest. Here are their pictures. Here are some animals that live in the cloud forest. Here are some pictures. This is the swamp......etc” for an hour and a half. I did a lot of the Garp reading during this time.

Afterwards, I hung out with Aracely and we decided to talk only in Spanish. She was knee deep in explaining her feelings towards a specific person, very personal feelings I may add, when we realized the patio we were sitting on had gone completely silent. Sometimes, when you concentrate on remembering words and conjugating, volume control sort of goes out the window. At least she can project well.

I rode the bus home and made a friend. We just started talking on the bus, his name is Javier and he studies architecture. He seems semi boring but possibly interesting. I’ll take all the friends I can get. He doesn't constantly correct my grammer or actively hit on me, meeting my two requirements. He may, however, play the pan flute, which is sort of iffy.

Got home, feeling brave and happy about making a new friend, and I was very happy to talk to an old one. Not old in age, like we have been friends for so long. You may know him as Eustice. Great to talk to him, to really be honest, to talk to someone who knows me outside of this crazy month in the sounhtern hemisphere. And it has been a month, one month yesterday. Five to go!

There’s a free jazz festival each night this week in the plaza of the teatro sucre, so we went, my madre, mi, our neighbor Dani (girl) and Jimmy. It was really cool, about 400 people in a plaza rockin out to semi-good smooth jazz. J immedielty got lost in the crowd, so we watched some people do some very sexual acrobatics. There was a big line infront of the teatro, and all of a suddent it began to move, so we joined it and went in the teatro. It was a very grand style of theater, like the Kennedy center or something, but not very large, maybe 350 capacity. Sat around for a while, speculated about what we might have signed on to see. It turned out to be part of an experimental theater festival. Chevre! We couldn’t figure out the name of the play, but it consisted of a woman, wearing a slip, smoking and drinking and rolling around in a chair while orchestrial music, gypsy ballads, and Edit Piaf songs played dramatically. A giant wedding dress was in the corner. There was also a table that rolled around.

The play was very good, well blocked, lit, costumed, etc but I was just too tired. I have big days and I’m not sleeping so well (all the farting?). Also, she never talked, so the music just put me to sleep. When I woke up, she was in a clown suit with blood all over her legs and these fake breast things by her face….we left.

Rode the trole home, Jimmy gave me one of his earphones so we could rock out to metal, that was nice. He went to get his gf from the train station, and then my madre just let it out. She was like “did you get the message of the play?”

“no, well not really, I was asleep.”

“I was like that. Smoking and drinking and waving my arms to get the pain outside. It was horrible. It was the worst time of my life.”


wooo boy sometimes you just can´t deal with things. That was one of those times. I went to bed.