19th Nervous Breakdown

In direct opposition to the crappy job of blogging I've been doing, here's what happened this weekend. 

Friday Night

• did nothing.


• Called a couple people, they didn't anser


• watched Almost Famous and thought about that for a while


• Host mamita was like "hey do you want to go to the jungle with my son ok cool"


• Made the moral decision not to go to my work thing on Saturday


• Packed furiously


• Finished Almost Famous. 

Saturday 

• Woke up around 5, packed and ate breakfast furiously


• said goodbye to host 'rents who are going to the beach and bringing 6 packages of ham, 3 boxes of tea, and 4 of canneloni. I do not wonder anymore. 


• Found out Diego wasn't coming till around 8, so I slept for a while. 


• Woke up to find Diego in my room ruffling around in his CD collection. He's like come on and Im not wearing pants. 


• We go out to the car and meet the other people with whom we are going to Tena. His ma told me that "Diego, his girlfriend and some other friends" were going. Most of the times I've hung with Diego, we were drinking moonshine on a street corner and listening to punk music, so I was expecting some pretty cool friends. I mean, I'd even shaved my legs for this. At the car, I find his girlfriend, Lora, and a 45 year old man with atheletic socks up to his knee caps. They are listening to Fiona Apple. Originally, I thought he was a bachelor looking for a foreign bride to deflower (uh hem) in some kind of feux indigenous ceremony preformed by bored Schwar teenagers in coconut bras, but it turned out he was just Lora's dad. 


• We drove for many (4) hours and through many (like 5.5) climate zones. 


• Around f10 30 we stopped in Baeza and got trout. I really really love trout around here. It's all either fished by people, like with a pole and worms, that old school , or grown by industrious people in square ponds near rivers. I like both those things, and I like trout. Fried trout, french fried, onion salad, and strawberry juice.


• Oh, also, this is when Pablo began his spree of paying for things. He just got up in the middle of lunch with his mouth full of bread and went to the counter to pay for all of our lunches. I hadn't figured out that he was Lore's dad yet, so this made the sugar-daddy possibility higher. 


• We made it to Tena by about noon, and drove around in the pouring rain for about an hour looking for a hotel. We found called the Pumarosa which I highly recommend. I was still in my double-date mindset and was worried that Pablo (the father) and I were going to share a room and he was going to liquor me up or something, but we each got our own rooms. Can I just expound on how wonderful it is to have one's own hotel room? I'm no Virginia Wolfe here, I just love being able to take up the whole closet and not have to ration towels. Also, not being in an arranged marriage to your friend's friend's dad is good. 


• We got back in the car and drove about half an hour to Misagualli (miss-ah-guay-YEE). This place is great. We only walked through the main town part, but it seemed very sleepy and beachy and nice. We walked to the pier and looked at the Napo River, and they all bought tamarindo and coco juice from this very gregarious vendor who took a long time in getting them change and then refilled the cups when he finally got back. I was terrified about getting sick from water, but really thirsty.


•  River playtime! It was a big wide river with a sandy beach and a strong current but not too many rocks. Pablo rented us inner tubes and I went again and again up to the small rapids and bounced down to the beach. There are some things in life that make me endlessly happy, and rivers and inner tubes are two of those things. Some other's include strong walking bass lines, the flavor of Thai curry, public transportation, and mountains.
  
• Anyway, we played in the river for a long time. It was kind of awkward socially because Diego and Lore were holding hands and cuddling, and Pablo and I were not holding hands and not cuddling and he was wearing something between a speedo and jammers that said "No Diving" on the butt and didn't have any hair on his thighs except for this one ring. 


• The inner-tube-renter took his dog on his belly while he rafted down the rapids. Apparantely he's been featured on TV for this stunt.


• There are a lot of monkeys just running free on this beach and they stole someone's deet and this was a huge deal.


• My thirst overtook me and I went to the coco juice guy and he said "oh I knew when you first came here that you were thirsty, I'm glad you came back, I hate the feeling of being dehyrated. I'm glad a single pretty girl like you is enjoying my beautiful beach." That was nice. 


• We went to a hut and ate maita, which is fish (they call it talapia but I don't think its talapia) cooked over a fire in banana leaves. SO GOOD. but I was feeling nervous about that coco so I just had some boiled yuca, also SO GOOD.


• Here's what Pablo ate in the course of about 40 minutes

1. Maito, the whole fish


2. About an arm's lenght of boiled yuca


3. onion salas


4. two glasses of cold guayuca tea


5. a choco con queso (a giant corn on the cob smothered in mayonaisse and shredded cheese


6. An ice cream bar (he was carrying around the choclo and ice cream at the same time and looking like a pig)


7. Three grilled worms on a skewer


8. a quesadilla/pupusa like thing 


9. another jugo de coco.

• During this time we mostly followed Pablo around watching him eat. 


• We got back in the car and drove to this area called Las Sogas which means Rope Swings. It was another bank of the same river filled with people playing including two youth soccer teams who immidieley stripped down to their  little-kid underwear and began fighting in the water, a father and son who shampooed each other's hair, four people with cerebal palsy of varying degrees, and two kids who were throwing rocks at each other until one hit the other in the forehead and he passed out. 


• We jumped off this ledge a lot. 


• Went home, read Los Vagabundos de Dharma (oh man Beat is so good in Spanish) and fell asleep.


• Went to this pizza place called Bella Selva and everyone got kind of freaked out at me for just ordering a pizza with onions and mushrooms and no meat or fruit or corn. It's pretty normal, guys.


• We crossed the bridge to this coctail place and ordered huge caloric beverages. Lore and I had "Ron Coco" which was like a spiked milkshake and could sustain a family of five. Diego had this giant maracuya thing with a lot of fruit. Pablo had a single shot of tequila which they brought with about ten lime slices and a whole ramekin of salt, worrying us that he had accidentally purchased an entire bottle. No, he just enjoyed his condiments, forming a cocaine-neat line of salt on his thumb and slurping it off, gnawing on lime slices before neatly sipping his tequila in four or so minishots as we slurped on our Ron Cocos. 


• Pablo had been paying for everything so far besides the ice cream, so I whispered to Diego and Lore that I would buy us the drinks. WHOOPS i only brought a 5 not a 20. I threw that in but my chivalry was denied.


• Slept. Naked, the benefit of the solo hotel room. 

Sunday. I'm going to cease the bullet points so I don't feel like I have training-wheels on. Woke up, read some more, jittered around, paid for the hotel before Pablo beat me to it. We went to this gringo-oriented place on the malecon for breakfast. I had fried eggs and real coffee and tomate de arbol juice and read The New Yorker which is my idea of best. After breakfast, we went back to the hotel and got suggestions of what to do from the owner.  Pablo searched for his room key for 30 minutes before we found it in his room.

We drove 30 minutes on the highway, than 40 minutes on this dirt road to finally abanon the car in a ditch. We were searching for this hotel Hakuna Matatta and the beauitful beach there about. We made it to Hakuna Matata and found their beach guarded by an Irish man with very poor spanish. Due to Diego and I speaking english, we found out that the beach was 3 k up the path through this community. The community had been "in fiestas" and we had to ask thier permission.

So we continued up this cobbelstone and mud road for a while longer. We hear the community before we see it. It's the Spice Girls, its a techno remix, but I love bass lines and I remember them. As we get closer, it switches to another Kareoke hit of the 90s, that A Little Bit of Monica song that that rapper sang in the Macy's Day Parade.

We see the houses by the time "I'm Blue Daba Dee Daba Die" starts up. They are small board-based houses a little off the ground as they need to be. There are yards with flowers and corn. There are clothelines and chairs and porches. There are people near their houses, and on the other side of the futball field that is the middle of the town, there is the pavillion with the music where people are drinking. 

It's like a Kurt Vonnegut scene: four tourists in water shoes standing on the edge of a beaten field while 10 men and one woman pregnant with hepatitis dance in drizzle and smack empty liquor bottles together. We don't move until they approach us and they do, four of the men and the woman and they all shake hands and don't let Lore and I go for longer than they should. I haven't smelled breath that fermented since I don't want to tell you, I haven't seen eyes that yellow since a client at the homeless services organization was a week from dead. They are celebrating the graduation, they tell us, of the kids from school. They graduated on Friday. The man who won't let go of my hand keeps asking me if I'm a señorita or a señor. I guess it's cool that even drunk people see that I'm queer?

The woman asks us for a dollar to use the river and Pablo pulls out tens and twentys in a mess from his mesh short pocket and I want to dive at him NO! Currency is capitalism and there is nothing more alluring than spending when you're spent yourself. Money might make it better, but it will only turn her yellow eyes green until she finally falls asleep. There are four of us only, so she technically owes us a dollar. We straggle to her house which seems to have some sort of store attached and she offers Lore a dollar of yoghurt as change. Lore and Pablo insist that they don't teach change, for which a young man mouths "gracias" a them. We shoo off the hand-shakers and cross the field to an audience of drunken, hungover, and children's eyes.

Here's the river

Some drunk folks by the giant rock in the river.

We play in the river for a while, I think big thoughts and am glad I know how to swim. It starts to thunder and lightining, so we walk back through the town in the pouring rain. Pablo wants to practice his english so we finally have something to talk about. He tells me the plot of The Fifth Element: "There is a girl, a very pretty girl. I do not know her name living out of the movie. There are aliens and they want this girl because she knows things. It is very full fantasy and I like that. He is still wearing his speedo. 

We drive back to the hotel shivery and soaking. They appeared to have no check-out time and we take advantage of this and the respectably hot water and shower ourselves. On the road, we drive to Archidona to eat more maito, more yuca, more onion salad, and more guayusa. We fill up the car and it only costs 15 dollars and gas is $1.50 a gallon.

On the way home, we get stopped because they are doing construction and the road is only one-way for a while. At the stop, a woman is selling the guayusa leaves for a whole necklace of folded leaves for a dollar. She's also sleeing fresh damp cinnamon bark and some kind of fruit that smells like rotting meat. Further on, we stop to buy mushrooms from one of the many stalls along the highway. We go into the green houses to watch her cut the six pounds. 

We drive home and I am DJ and I choose all dreamy, trippy stuff. We make it to Quito, drop Pablo off at his apartment and get back to Cumbaya. 

So that was pretty fun. 

Also, we listened endlessly to The Rolling Stones on that long dirt road, so that's the title of this post. Also, I introduced them to The Dodos and Fleet Foxes and they were impressed. This is the first time someone has been impressed with my taste in music since tenth grade or Ryan Douglass

MORE ADVENTURES

Here's Elsa, part of the El Cisne family. She has some sort of mental illness or disorder so she is pretty reclusive and impaired, but she is cleaning yuca for lunch.
After lunch we went to a river and played on the rocks

Rocks! river! tree! cows! boys who were flirting with me aggressively despite being 15 years old!
If you look close, the leaves look like pot leaves. OF COURSE pilar took a picture to show what a good time I was having in ecuador "Soy la virgen del la hierba!"

Little cousins playing video games in the house....

Which I realized was a little more natural than I had thought, storing the head of the pig we ate last night in a bedroom. YUM!

Pili and Dita's Excellent Adventure PART II

More Photo-a-day! Here, we have the first part of me and Pilar's trip to El Cisne towards the west of Quito. This was my first or second weekend in Quito after orientation so I had no idea what was going on, ever. I just nodded and followed Pilar, who sometimes dragged me down a road literally. The first picture is the beginning of our trip. We were looking for the Laquisha (ghetto girl name) bus but only the Mitad del Mundo bus would come by. Like 35 of them in a row. Pilar was getting mad so I took a picture of it.

Next photo is of the treasured drink of Ecuador, Avena. Avena is made my soaking oats in water or milk or either of those with fruit and sugar in them for a few days. After that, you put it in a blender until it is a thick grey paste. After that, you add more sugar. It is great for kids! Also, for the first month or so, I was confused when people would call avena "quacker." After seeing it written down, I now understand: Quaker oats. Anyway, here is an avena cart sold by the polish nurse-bear, perhaps named Avena. Let's all get a cup from the disabled guy selling it outside the bus window?

After arriving to El Cisne, we actually settled down the the ceremony celebrating 60 years of marriage of a couple that were presumably more than 60 years old. The ceremony was pretty sweet, except one of the daughters gave a speech about how proud she was of her parents but also some how connecting this to gay marriage being wrong. But my gay-dar was honking Sra. Olivia. I gotta tell you.

After that, we ate huge quantities of meat and drank heavily. Remember that time when I semi-passed out on a balcony? Yeah, that happened. This is Pilar and my cousin Bolo drinking shots of cane liquor at about 5 pm. Bolo was extremely nice and friendly and I felt enormous pressure from my family to sleep with and possibly marry him. I did not bend to thier expectations but it was still eye-openingly awkward.

Oh next up is the little cousin Diego who is totally strange. He made me promise to put this picture up on the internet and I told him I would and put that off for 6 months. disculpame Diego!

The next morning, unbelievably hung over, Pilar and I decided to take a walk in the jungle for a while. because nothing clears up chucaqui like dense vegetation. Here's Pilar in her natural environment

houses are often built off the ground so that there's less humidity and bugs and animals getting in. Example A:

Back at the house, here's Tia Laura making lunch outside in the open fire.
And here's me outbehind the house at the beginning of the forest.
I'm going to start a new entry because my formatting is messed up

home!?!

Ok guys so I'm home, sitting in my hyattsville basement, typing away. Home. Home where its cold, i have different clothes, constant hot water, a sister, a dog, a refrigerator with more than just cabbage and queso fresco in it. Home? Weird. I'm without a laptop charger so the few entries I wrote between then and now are safely inside my sleeping computer, but I'll summarize them here: I'm glad to be back. things are more unfamiliar than I thought they would be. United States politics are shameful. A woman should have the right to choose. It's cold here and all plants are dead. My family has a lot of cushions and food. Two of my suitcases have broken. I am unpacked an have moved into the "piles" phase.

I can't wait to see everybody and all that. And keep writing. And EAT CHINESE FOOD. There is Shezhuan (sorry actual geographic location, I cannot spell you) string beans, Ma Po (If you are a place, Ma Po, I also apologize) tofu, and lo main. I will use chopsticks and my cup will overflowith.

If you live round these parts, give me a call/comment/facebookmessage and we can hang out!

And don't worry, the blog don't quit just cuz I changed hemispheres

The Galapagos Diaries

So, I wrote a reflection/diary for each day in the Galapagos, its in the next several entries. I posted it anti-chronologically so that it would be easier to understand. Pictures will come at some point!

Sunday, Jan 30

Our first day in the Galapagos! Even after being here for so little time I can already tell that it is a unique place that seems to have more in common with both Haiti and Yellowstone National Park than most of Ecuador that I have seen.

The flights here were very normal, they had those fancy individual TV screens and I watched 2/3 of "Easy A" which was hilarious, like Mean Girls but with more social commentary. We got there within five hours; it was all very well organized. We re-united with the bio kids at a restaurant where they complained vigorously about the food. We would soon find out why. After lunch, we went on a very long walk that they told us would be a short walk. We walked on long stone paths, raised and made of volcanic rock. First we walked to a nature-center sort of place and then continued to several viewpoints around San Cristobal. The plant life and ground there is so different from Quito. It reminds me of Texas, actually. Jamie and I had this long discussion about how it looked like Port Aransas or something, Latino people walking to the beach in wife beaters with the same type of vegetation.

We climbed endless steps to a beautiful view over a cove and then to a giant paper maché statue of Charles Darwin. We descended to Playa Mann, a small beach that faces the front of the USFQ campus. The school looks like how people imagine college in California, a single stucco building. Cross the road and there's a beautiful beach. So we went snorkeling there and I began my snorkeling-meditation-cognitive-behavioral-therapy routine that I would develop over the next several days. I'll describe that later. We saw lots of beautiful blue fish, the occasional shadow of a sea lion, algae and anemones waving in the breeze of the waves. It was fun to swim and play around with your friends. Also, it was comforting and a good place to go for our first time snorkeling because it got deep very fast so you could see lots of life but still be very near the shore.

We had to get out after about an hour. I had a really hard time coming in because I sort of got stuck on some rocks. It didn't hurt or anything but I had to scramble and while I was doing that everyone started yelling and pointing at me. I had a sea lion like two feet behind me and I got so scared. Abstractly, and in the future, I have and would consider sea lions interesting and un scary. In the water, different story. I just stuck my head underwater and kicked really hard until I got to shore.

After that experience, I breathed deeply for a while and then we went to another snorkel spot, a cove we had seen from our walk. It was very different water, much deeper and clearer. I started to do little underwater dives that were fun if very salty. I could swim right by whole schools of fish, get close looks at the floor and generally have a much more three dimensional experience. It reminded me of that moment in The Sword in the Stone where Merlin and Arthur are fish and Merlin says, "You are now living in a world that exists between the ceiling and the floor."

Highlight of the day: Seeing a puffer fish!

Galapagos Jan 31

I woke up very early that day to help Jacob with his project which is counting sea lions on a particular beach. Only problem: Jacob kept sleeping, leaving me sitting on the steps waiting for him. It was fine, though, because I had a nice conversation with the owner of the hotel about things you need to do to own a tourist operation successfully.

Once the day officially started, we did a lot of touring and seeing sights. We went to the highlands to a crater lake called Lago Junco. It was very misty and foggy and we could barely see anything until all of a sudden the fog cleared and there was this giant round hole that looked like something out of middle earth. Actually, most things in the Galapagos look like things from fantasy novels, expect many references in the coming entries.

After that, we went to a turtle breeding station. Turtles are so slow and cute when they walk! Their bodies are just not designed for fast movement. We learned about the different verities of turtle on each island and how they developed.

We took a long, hot hike through desert like craggy trees to this gorgeous beach. It looked like some sort of Caribbean fantasy, flour sand, clear sky, turquoise waves. We ate horrible, huge quantities of fried rice that was what was for lunch every day. Now I understand the bio kids complaints. We swam and played and lay in the sun in that beautiful locale. And then walked the hot walk back. Some unmentioned friends did not want to put on their shoes and tried to run 3k back on volcanic rock barefoot. There was a lot of screaming.

On the way back, we passed a hill with wind turbines. It’s a good idea because there is a lot of wind there. Back in town, we had hours to kill. Stew, Iggy, Jamie and I hung around for a while eating ice cream and looking at the sea lions. It's sort of ridiculous how the sea lions act there. There is this playground by the beach and they just lie around on the benches and in patches of shade. They barely notice if you get close, until you get too close and then they snap and bark at you. Beyond the playground there's a beach where endless sea lions lie and cuddle like bums. There is a constant low-level of movement, adjusting and twitching and snuggling closer. It’s adorable and alien.

We found Natalie and she bought us milkshakes and we talked about if English is better than Spanish. No conclusion was reached. We ate dinner, walked around the sleepy beach town, sat on the roof of our hotel and talked about the stars and space and constellations. We also had a discussion about breast milk which would become a prominent theme in the coming days.

Highlight: sea lion viewing, beach appreciation.

Galapagos Feb 1

Tuesday was boat day and lordy am I glad that I do not get seasick. We woke up really early, at 4 am, then realized there was a time difference and slept till 5. We went to the boat port and waited an hour and a half. I took a sea lion-esque nap. Our boat ride took 2.5 hours and I was on the boat for "people that do not get seasick" and people got seasick. Eventually, we found some land and looked at boobies and friggit birds. We learned how they evolved co-dependently and how neither is evolved to deal with predators.

We went snorkeling in open water which was originally scary but I got over it fast. It was just so beautiful! You can see how the island shelf/volcanic material just drops into the deep ocean below. Fish flutter in schools and divide endlessly around you, around rocks, around currents. Some people got to play with sea lions but I never saw any, I was really enjoying the fish and the geology. We swam a long way; it’s so easy with fins and beautiful things to keep your eyes busy.

We got back on the boat and went to the island of Floreana which has an insane story that was told by our guide Jeff in an insane way. It involves a baroness, polyamory, living in caves, and death by chicken soup.

Back on the boat, a long ride, too many games of 20 questions including one about Mr. Peanut that almost caused a fistfight. We arrived in Isabela and got into our hotel. Our guide, Jeff, works at/ owns? the hotel with his wife Courtney. She is gringa and met Jeff on vacation. He's from San Cristobal. Story goes, they fell in love, she came here to teach English and see where it went, and now they have a two year old and a tourist business. It's pretty amazing. They are both very fun and successful people and they must really love each other. They both have interesting life stories and seem to be really happy here.

So their hotel served us this enormous meal, huge pieces of chicken and tuna, endless rice. We took heavenly showers in brackish water (all the water on the islands is brackish, you have to buy sweetwater) and went to sleep.

Highlights: Seeing a beautiful sea star, ridiculous story, beautiful friggit birds

Galapagos Feb 2

Wednesday was the Big Hiking Day. We took buses to the Volcan Chico walk. It was probably 10 k on muddy horse trails, not bad at all. Walking, we had these long discussions about our religious beliefs and how we were raised. Interesting. An hour or so in, we stopped to look at this enormous volcanic hotspot/crater/I don't know that much about volcanoes. It was a huge hole at least 20 k across with sulfur deposits on one end and it was just huge and brought out the agoraphobe in me.

Another thing that was going on during the walk was one of our coordinators was constantly pumping breast milk. She has a 6-month-old baby that she left at home but she was producing milk and was storing it in bottles because she had a psychological attachment to it. This lead to a long question-and-answer session about breastfeeding while we had a snack.

After that health class lesson, we started our descent to the lava fields. This is where I understand when people say the Galapagos looks like Mars. There was so little life, only tiny plants and just endless lumps of lava. You felt in danger there, remember the heat that had rolled down those planes so long ago and so recently, depending on whose eyes you use. It was so hot and sunny and reflective there. I could see coming here, being a pirate, and feeling as though this were hell. And to be stuck there, to not know trails or where the edge was, with no water would be hell. You would die. We climbed up this huge mountain of hard lava (imagine that forming! swirling and bubbling!) and saw the view: forest to one side, ocean to the front, grasslands to the west and hell all around

Alana, Sarvie and I decided to run on the way back. And by run, I mean jog for 20 minutes and then walk the rest of the way. It started raining very very hard midway back so we were very cold. Of course, we beat the rest of the group (but not the people who actually ran) so we sat in this pavilion and contemplated stealing this family's food. We went to this restaurant that would have been lovely had it not been raining because it was entirely unconnected grass huts. However, they gave us scalloped potatoes and hot sauce and fruit and it was good. We took vans home and took naps.

Highlight: is there life on mars?

Galapagos Feb 3

Thursday! It was still raining! We went to el Muro de Lagrimas (wall of tears) which was appropriate because god was crying. You know, rain. Originally, parts of the Galapagos were used as penal colonies and they made the prisoners build this giant wall of volcanic stones. It was a very impressive wall and even more impressionable because Jeff talked about how much suffering went into the wall. So many prisoners died there, they started with like 3000 and after a few years only 300 were left. Humans do really horrible things to each other. Organized government, especially when it's into punishment rarely ends well for individuals.

We walked a trail along the wall, looked at more of this bizarre thin vegetation. Walked some more along boardwalks saw stately pale flamingos. Their knees are backwards and their throats are flexible tubes. Its amazing they can stand and fly both- their bodies seem designed for neither. Our walk was then along the beach which was beautiful but we were all very sick of the rain and cranky.

In the afternoon we went snorkeling and sightseeing. We went to a place called Tintorearas which is several very small (the size of a house) islands very close to the water level. The whole place looks like it is made of lava dribble castles. We saw boobies and penguins and friggits and sea lions! They were all sitting next to each other and many pictures were taken.

After that we tried to go snorkeling and it was really scary. It might be time to explain the Dana Snorkel Stay Calm method now. Basically, snorkeling involves a lot of things that are scary: being in the water, not having totally free breathing, not being to see clearly, feeling alone, seeing creepy plants, waves, possibility of hitting something, possibility of getting lost, drowning, etc. Basically, I am a fraidy-cat about a lot of thing and snorkeling combines many of them. But I also like water and fish and animals and exploring and I certainly wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. So I tried to look at snorkeling like a meditative, spiritual activity. I worked to slow my breath, audible through the tube. I tried to relax my jaw and shoulders. I kicked evenly and reminded myself bodies float naturally. I let the wave add rhythm. Of course, I still hyperventilated every time I got too close to seaweed and when rocks got too near I almost gave up and sank. But I'm proud of what I did manage.

However, despite my excellent mental control, the snorkeling was pretty bad. The water was deep and cloudy and you couldn't see anything. We tried another spot and that was better but extremely cold and had Dana's enemies, rocks covered in algae, near the surface. I saw a giant ray, though, just chilling out under some sand.

We got out of the water and took a walk to mangroves, another natural environment that I am unreasonably scared of. There was a beautiful bay at the end, though, that reminded me of the dock in Requiem for a Dream. But not horrific and drug addicted. We walked back. There was only van, so half the group stayed behind and drank beer while we waited. Beer is horrible here.

Highlights: lava formations, cute animals! Not dying while snorkeling.

Galapagos Feb 4

This was probably my favorite day of the whole trip. We had a relaxed morning which entailed me taking a two-hour nap. Being on antibiotics really takes it out of you. At 10, we went to the subcentro de salud on the island. It was fascinating, both to see it with my own eyes and see other people's reactions.

It was very similar to Puembo, same paperwork, posters, and organization. It was larger, with a special OBGYN and pediatrician and a trauma room. I was very impressed and pleased to be there, but I think many other people were not. Many pre-med students I was in a group with were surprised by how small and bare the spaces were. Additionally, they were shocked by the trauma room. Alcohol, agua oxegenada (peroxide?) and other cleaning fluids were stored in Gatorade bottles and most of the equipment was very old.

I'm really of mixed opinions about this. On one hand, yes, healthcare all over the world should be equal. The ecography machine should be less than twenty years old, records should be computerized, alcohol should come in its own bottle. On the other hand, its impressive that an island 600 miles from shore is integrated into a national health care system, that this system gives free care and medications, that there is alcohol and a trauma room to use it in. Additionally, when you think about it, most emergency room visits can be treated with a few stitches, a bandage, antibiotics, an IV for rehydration and other simple procedures. Probably 75 or 80 percent of medical care can be considered "basic." And cases that aren't basic might be just as likely to die in an excellent hospital or a basic one. It’s a matter of perspective and where to put your money. And in most cases, Ecuador has put its money where its mouth is.

Ate lunch, got on the boat to Santa Cruz. On the way there, I overheard a really interesting conversation between an unnamed student and an unnamed teacher/coordinator/guy in charge. Student was pointing at something and accidentally poked Adult's exposed belly (we were all sitting around in bathing suits)

Adult: Hey man, don't touch me

Student: sorry, it was an accident.

A: No man, I notice you, I see you touching a lot of guys.

S: We are a close group of friends. We are comfortable with each other

A: Its pretty gay.

(Silence for a long while)

S: so, you've worked with kids from K before? So you know what Crystal Ball is?

A: No, what is that?

S: Its a dance, where the guys dress up like girls, and the girls like guys and everyone just sort of goofs off about gender. So you have to understand that homophobia doesn't really exist in our culture

A: I'm not part of your culture; so don't touch me any more.

Wow. How do you respond to that, to a person in power showing such...bigotry might be too strong, but its also appropriate? And what if the Student had been gay? What if he was unsure about his sexuality? I'm proud of my friend for defending his relationship with his friends, the culture of K, his own rights. And I feel uncomfortable that the Adult went automatically to judgment and anger in a situation that started off as relaxed. Of course, its part of Ecuadorian culture drilled in early that being gay is the worst possible thing that you could be. But this Adult is hired to make international students feel comfortable. We had been speaking in English and using USA standards of behavior all day, the whole trip. Of course, in lots of parts of the USA, in places all over the world that kind of behavior is OK, but on that boat between two islands, we all felt uncomfortable.

Ok, moving on. We got to Santa Cruz and it was beautiful, island paradise style. Oh! We saw this giant solar-powered boat in the harbor that is traveling around the world-teaching people about solar power. So that was cool. We went to our hotel and it was lovely and had a pool. Of course, the guys were acting as though they were all in a giant romantic relationship so as to put off our favorite Adult. Also, because they are friends and like to make human pyramids in pools.

Highlights: Public heath and fighting homophobia where you see it: both things I think about on a daily basis.

Galapagos Feb 5

Friday! In the morning, we went to the Charles Darwin Research station where we saw many giant tortoises. We learned about how the tortoises and the cactus-trees evolved. As the tortugas' necks grew, the cactus grew taller. That's a simplification of a millions of year’s process, but its simplicity and slowness is what makes it beautiful. We watched a tortuga eating leaves with its pokey jaw, strong tongue. They are pretty stupid, actually, they can't see very well and drop much of their food.

We also saw Lonesome George who is the last of his species on earth. Despite many attempts, including an attractive Swedish evolutionary biologist helping him out (the imperfect of the word is 'masturbaba,' which is endlessly funny), he just isn't into reproducing. Good thing tortugas live like 200 years and George is only 130 or so.

In the afternoon, we went to Tortuga Bay which is a bay that often has many turtles and fish. Unfortunately, it was raining and cold so there was barely any life in the bay. I saw a sea cucumber which looked, honestly, like poop. Also, many marine iguanas which have very defined claws, move hilariously, and leave a little trail in the sand where their tails drag.

In the evening, a bunch of us went out to a bar and did that bar thing. It was overwhelming for me, as usual. I wish I could just relax and enjoy dancing. Jamie and I left and walked around the pier and looked at pre-teen galapagüeño (isn't that a cool word?) kids harass a sea lion. I went to hang out in the boy's room, which was filled with bugs, attracted to the lights. I was so scared that my room would be empty of people and filled with bugs so I slept on their extra bed on top of the covers. No bugs ate me in my sleep.

Highlights: evolution is awesome, I was not eaten by bugs, dinner was really good.

Galapagos Feb 6

Our last day! We left early with our huge awkward bags on the top of the bus. We went to visit Los Gemelos (the twins) which are these ditch-crater things that are very deep and large and filled with trees and plants. We were almost late to our plane so we were running and flashing our passports and saying goodbye to Jeff and Courtney and then the plane didn't have those nifty TV screens so I read Midnight's Children. We were back in Quito nice and early so I had time to take my absolutely filthy clothes to my favorite Laundromat and eat pasta and take a nap. What a trip!

I´m baaaaack

Written last night.

Hey there, long time no see! Sorry I was absent for a while, I just happened to be in the Galapagos Islands for six days. You know, no big deal. We left Sunday morning and just got back a few hours ago. My absolutely filthy clothes are currently at a laundromat, I've got a blister the size of a football on my baby toe and I've gotten so tan I would.....still feel guilty about calling myself "not white." I stick to my guns no matter how much sun exposure I've gotten.

I absolutely promise that I'll give you more details about what happened. this is partially because I am academically required to write an 8 page reflection about the experience and also because I love my blog readaaaas (holla at my gurls) and also because I feel a little dip in the panic level when my fingers are touching the keyboard.

But I will give you a little teaser, saying that highlights of the trip included: A volcanic crater, endless fried rice, antibiotics, a possible allergy to corn, a pufferfish sighting, obscene statues of turtles, too much rain, many many ice cream bars, a complicated pants exchange, fighting homophobia, riffs from rap songs, rotten breastmilk and boxed wine.

Additionally, I would like to point out that it is the 6th. And what is 20 minus 6? It is 14. So leaving on the 20th, I have 14 days left here. And what is 14 days? Two weeks. Two weeks on vacation in Ecuador is a lot, but two weeks to write ten pages, arrange meetings, pack, cry, eat arepas, make lists and plans and promises I can't keep is tiny. My blister is bigger than two weeks. My backpack can hold two weeks in the little pocket. I walk at least a month and a half on the way to the store at the corner. So there's the job of fitting my life into these impossibly tiny folds that I make in the paper of my days, and in the stupidly simple bits and bites of this blog, and in the seconds of eyecontact and understanding speech and doing-it-right that push me through the hours. So two weeks is tiny, flimsy, wears down its resolve with each hour. I haven't learned how to manage myself in the face of two weeks.

Hay que gozar la vida, I guess I'll take a nap.

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.

Going Home

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?)

In Guayaquil, Full of Angst

Written Wednesday Night

Its the first time I've been under an air conditioner in months, and its the very end of December. I'm here in Guayaquil in Stefano's grandmother's house, on a fold out couch bed with my backpack next to me on the floor. There's 71% battery, I have stiff legs and a headache. Yesterday morning my mother and my sister left, cought a taxi to the airport, leaving me to lie in the still-paid-for hotel room watching three consecutive episodes of The Big Bang Theory and eating wafer cookies from christmas that had somehow already gone stale.

Hannah's parents took us all out to lunch and I had a chicken salad sandwhich because all I seem to want to do these days is eat various forms of chicken between types of breads. Usually, mayonase should be involved. Aracely came over and immedietley conked out for a two hour nap on my bed, only waking to ask if she could get under the covers.

I lay with the sweet centimeters below my knees in the sun and read Mary Karr's Lit, one of those books that pricks your consciousness, makes you think the way she does, see things with her crossed eyes. I can't wait for some dialogue to come up soon so that I can leave out quotation marks just as she does.

Its wonderful to have somone so smart and well spoken take up temporary residence in your skull, but it can get awkward when her values start sitting down on your own. Anecdote? Of course, so glad you asked.

Much of Karr's memoirs deal with her own and her family's struggles with alcoholism, and Lit is no exception. In The Lair's Club, pages and chapters are sobbed about her mother's heavy drinking coupled with knife-weilding mental illness, as well as her father's reclusive constant alcoholism. There's also aquaintence rape, bigamy, and cancer people get from oil wells. Not a cheerful set of essay prompts. So I read The Liar's Club and I thought, Well damn, my life is a piece of peach pie. She's bareley got a can of cool whip.

I was so stressed out from The Liar's Club, and just from seeing the cover of Viper Rum, her book of poetry, that I decided to skip her second memoir, Cherry and stick to the backs of cerael boxes for my reading. But for christmas in Baños, sitting on a hammock with my sister, my mom passed me Lit with its accolade-slobbered cover and those neat looking fake cuts down the front. There's a lot going on on the cover of that book, it took me a while to recognize Mary Karr, our lady of Perpetual Suffering/Southern Texas. What the heck, nightmares can make you stronger or hold Feudian clues to what's wrong with you.

It's a great book, once you start reading. Each chapter is as strong as an essay and very presentable or discussable, but the book hangs to gether as a story. Of course it does: Its her life. Her marriage and its failure, her child and his raising, her spiritual life and literary success. And her drinking and how she stopped.

So when a person who does have a drinking problem sneaks into your head, a 20 year old having a beer with dinner, and she starts muttering and throwing down adverbs that you haven't heard in months, due mostly having your main conversation partner being a hispanohablante dentist who prefers to watch TV, its easy to get distracted from outside and fold yourself into your ears ad fall into the anxiety hole. And no matter if you're on vacation, no matter if there's eggplant lasagna coming, no matter if you're with your friend you haven't seen for a while, no matter if you've been taking your medicine more constant than you check your facebook, Mary Karr can talk really, really loud.

You're drunk she says. You're drunk and your making a fool of yourself.

I'm not drunk I say. I'm tired. Did you spent 4 hours today in the Quito airport? I think not. I bet you were eating fondue in Maine or something. Or spelling every word correctly. Or praying. Whatever, something cool.

You are a fool, an Immature fool. She says. You should stick to your own language and begin attending self help groups immedietley.

Could you shut up, Mary? I ask as my lasagna arrives. Stefano is approximately 1/2 through his small beer and i judge myself to be at 5/8. Oh shoot, she's right. Out drinking a boy who'se been at college? This could be a bad sign. Or maybe I just have a bigger mouth-capacity than he does. How would that be calculated? Would it make my face look fatter?

Look at this anxiety Says Mary, her hair perfectly stright, bangs that will never happen for me. Why aren't your working on this? You should be in meetings every night!

But I haven't done anything wrong! I jab my fork into my food, which turns out to be at least two thirds cheese. Should I feel guilty for eating such a large amount of cheese? Should I quit while I'm ahead and just give up all dairy, or should I eat this hulk of mozerella, get gas, feel fat, and then learn my lesson later to never ask for lasagna in Ecuador?

Mary doesn't know, and I don't either. But I know that beer, cheese, and fear are a filling but bad-tasting dinner.

Going to the Baños

Hey, maybe its time to tell you about my trip to Baños! I went to Baños the weekend before last and had a ton of fun. Its about three hours south east of Quito, they call it The Gateway to the Orient. Madre and I woke up really early to get to the bus station in the very south in the city. We both got groped on the bus by this same creepy man and then we gave him such angry looks that he got off. Woman power. Once we got to the station, we promptly waited around for an hour for our friend Jorge. We got on the bus and within minutes the scenery was amazing. I'm normally a watching sort of person and this just made my jaw drop. Green fields with vertical agriculture, tiny stone towns, clean sky and edgy mountains. Sheep! Kids! Old people! Bridges! A very very good bus ride to sit by the window.

And the vendors. It's almost like in Harry Potter on the Hogwarts Express, there's this endless stream of people hopping on the bus selling things. Sometimes they are gross/unwanted (warm coconut milk in a plastic bag, thise mysterious inflatable donut-shaped pillows) but often its tempting and cheap. Madre says she likes supporting la gente but I know she really just wants a snack. The highlights: tiny butterly cookies in that come in plastic re-used from other food products. It's not noodles, its shortbread. More exciting: Ice cream from saucedo, made in a dixie cup with three layers: majority coconut, then thin stripes of mora, naranjilla and taxo. Pale pastel, bumps of seed and flakes, almost unmelting after days in a freezer.

We made it to Baños by 11 or so. We went to the friend we knew, who works at an ice cream parlor. This was a good friend to have, one because she is extremley nice and two because she gave us free ice cream. Welcome to down, Dita, Jorge and Pilar. We decided on our hotel, named unsurprisingly "BACKPACKER HOSTEL." It was about a 15 minute walk through town. The main building was paja (sort of grass/straw) roof, really really dark inside with about five or six stoned hippies lying on the floor and hammocks. Ok, cool. My madre asked for a lighter for her cigarette, and the owner pulled out an onze bag of "Mary Jane" (If you get my drift) and dug a lighter out of the middle of some nugs. Ok, so it's that kinda hotel.

Climbing into my top bunk to look at the slanted ceiling painted with an acid-trip storm at sea, I scraped my leg on this screw. I got this weird three pointed cut and probably an advanced case of tetnus. Luckily, there was no time to enferm because Jorge had a bike ride in mind. We rented bikes, he and I at five dollars a day. Pilar stayed behind because she is afriad of being hit by a car. So we started on these bikes with poor breaks, no helmets, the regular. We go about 10 kilometers downhill. Its gorgeous and plesent, theres mountains all around, we are crossing bridges and the sun is shining and without the helmet the wind is in my hair.

But its straight down hill and Jorge doesn't stop. Not when I plead scared, tired, lost, a girl, weak, young, a pulmonary disease, dehyrdation. Jorge is like "nah nah its cool, lets just keep going."

Finally, after we go through these industrial-revolution era tunnels and end up in front of a powerpoint, I put my foot down. I'm going back. he can follow me. I start walking my bike up this mountain. Jorge seems really happy in first gear. he shows his happiness by constantly lapping me. I see other happy tourists with thier bikes in the back of pickup-truck taxis, on buses. I ask Jorge if we can do that. "That" he say "is bad. It is weak. We went down, we can do up." I cry a little bit. I buy some water. People stare at the sweating gringa. Two hours later, we make it back to town. Pilar is irate at the lack of pick up truck use (perhaps because we were not supporting the local economy enough? She has bought several bags of local taffy, some men's shorts, and a pair of sandals). We search for a restaurant with salad to make me happy. Pilar understands that salads can sooth me at my worst. We go to a restaurant and I order asparagus salas. They are out of asparagus. We got to another restaurant with no vegetable dishes on the menu. She and I spilit a lunch because we don't have enough money and I eat aproximately 2/3 of a chicken. I also eat all of Jorges rice because we though we each got a dish and it turns out we had to share. Tooooooo bad.

A while later, we go to the waterfall that is fed by the springs that Baños is named after. Its very pretty, very slippery, very trecherous. Pilar and I huddle in the only dry spot which also happens to be occupied by a couple deep in making out. We all politely ignore each other.

At 5, we get in line for the baths. The baths close between 4 and 6 and its apparently very important to be the first ones in. Ecuadorians are almost always late, except when a line is to be formed. And line behavior is very orderly. there is no butting. While waiting in line, we meet the other people who have come to Baños for this birthday party. Three of them are Pfizer employees, mostly accountant. This sounds lame but they are funny and awesome. One is a metal head with two tattoos and a shirt containing the word "Dismemberment." It's cool to be an accountant and live with your mother in Ecuador.

Six comes and we get in the baths themselves, which are eyebrow-raising hot and apparently clean. There are alot of obese people and old people that move very slowly down the stairs. Jorge insists I stand for 30 seconds in the ice-cold pool. Sure thing Jorge, you never led me wrong before. We paddle around in the pools, melting slowly. We jump in the cold pool and yell and writhe. At nine we leave, go back to the hotel and shower and go eat pizza at a local chain called "Garfield The Cat." Guess what their logo is! We are joined by another person, N, who's 20 like me, studying art, and extremley stupid. She didn;t understand how antibiotics work, what natural selection was, or what a relay race was. She also didn't know the differnece between automatic and manual cars. Not transmission. Cars. So we eat pizza, and we go back to the ice cream shop to start the party. We are supposed to get in a chiva, which I've already described, at around 10. At 11:30, after a lot of dorito eating, the Chiva shows up.

For the rest of the story, you will have to stay tuned until I write it! But I gaurentee that it's going to involve trecherous roads, public urination, more things that that dumb girl doesn't know, lots of potatoes, and a city called Ambato. This sounds like book 14 of A Series of Unfortunate Events

Tingo Pucará Trip

Last Sunday, I went to visit Tingo Pucará with my Rural Sociology Class. We met by Parque Carolina at 7 am and drove straigt up for three hours. A little exaduration, but we did gain about 1000 meters in altitude by the time all was said and done. We left the province of Pichincha and entered Cotopaxi. We stopped by the side of the road and looked around the Páramo. That translates akwardly to "alpine meadow," those long grasses you see way up in the mountains. It's too cold and nutrient-poor for farming but its perfect for grazing cows, sheep, and goats. The grass, paja, is also really useful for building roofs. You can even burn it if you want to. Its also really humid up there because it is literally in the clouds, so there is alot of condensation which eventually flows down the mountain and forms the rivers of the Andes. How cool!

Our second stop was Guangaje, the capital of the Paroquia (thats sort of like a county). It was market day and there were little tent stands set up all over the central square selling candy, produce, dry goods, clothes, and even llamas and sheep in one corner. Almost everyone there was wearing indigenous clothing witch is very distinctive and beautiful. We went into the church during the children's service, stood in the back, got stared at continuously until we left. The priest spoke in Spanish but all the songs were in Quechua.

Oh yeah Quechua. Its slightly differnt from the Peruvian Quichua, same origin, but the languages developed differently. Sierra Quechua is more standardized than the quite similar Oriental Quechua. Its the largest indigenous language in Ecuador, but there are at least five other major ones. Every day I smack my self on the head for not taking Quechua at USFQ. Future USFQ Anso students! Take Quechua! The grammar is completley foreign, its a slightly tonal language, closer to Chinese than Spanish, but its a huge skill to have here in Ecuador. Or Peru or Colombia, they will understand you there too.

We drove a few more kilometers to the community of Tingo Pucará which means Lookout on the Mountain. The Incas, when they were still around, used the spot for something, but nobody is sure what. There are some foundations and rubble of houses right on the point of the mountain, so they think they used it as a point for lookout or communication with people on equally high mountains or something.

Commnication would sure be hard, beause Tingo Pucará is almost always surrounded by clouds. Serious, freezing, opaque clouds. The visibilty is around ten meters, pretty unsafe to drive. The town has 25 families, and you can't see from one side of town to the other. Really, really cloudy. We sat in the one room school house, in the same style desks we have in our sociology class in Quito and listened to presentations from leaders in the community, the mayor, the leader of the women's group, the facebook page manager (look them up. I'm for serious) They were formal, following a written itinerary, clapping after each presentation. Speakers used a mixture of Spanish and untranslated Quechua. Kids chattered in the echo-y room, sitting on their parent's laps, and no one shushed them. A cell phone rung, silenced. Men are wearing ponchos in dark red, women in bright shawls, several pairs of socks and peticoats, but always with that thin line just above the knee uncovered and windburned.

We got divided into two groups and took a tour of the town. My group went first to the Pucará where it was even colder and even windier. We leared that the paja retains heat and that you can sleep in it if you are stuck outside. Our group of four was accompanied by four very enthusiastic little boys. We were all gasping at the altitude, but they were used to it and went leaping and running around.

After that we went to the community garden. You can grow some things in the paramo, but it takes alot of care and you can't do it on a large scale. The community used to use agrochemicals (is that even a word in english?), but the learned about organic farming and never went back. Our leader, George, said "queremos mejorar la agricultora, nuestra vida, nuestros campos, y nuestros niños...es nuestra trabajo, vengamos de tierra madre y nos da alimentación." Shoot, George. He said "We want to improve our agriculture, our lives, our fields, and our children...This is our work, we come form the mother earth and she gives us food."

We ate lunch in the community room. They town built a stone building to try to start a tourist industry. There isn't really much of that yet, its still getting off the ground, but I bet they will be successful because they are so insanely hard working and dedicated. lunch was tiny potatoes, thin soup, boiling water, and morocho which is like rice pudding with barley that you drink. It was good but would be my downfall (see next post, after I finish vomiting)

After lunch, we took some pictures, said a few things, including singing Jingle Bells (Why? They wanted the norteamericanos to show our culture) and got back on the bus for the rainy ride back.

An amazing experience. Just amazing. How beautiful culture is, the natural world, how people relate to each other and thier environment. How lucky I am to visit a place like that.