Chiva & Quilotoa

As I come to the final stretch in my time here in Ecuador, I have found myself unfortunately, and finally, swamped with work. However, as I have grown tired of reading endless anthropology articles for a paper I am writing, I will take this opportunity to write a blog post about my past weekend. Because despite the increasing homework loads we are all contending with, it does not stop us from having fun.
On Thursday we participated in an IES tradition known as the chiva. A chiva is like an open air bus. Everyone climbs into the back, music blasts, and the bus drives around Quito, passing through some well known spots. We were told to invite whomever we wanted, and so not only was everyone from the program present, so were many peoples' friends, both American and Ecuadorian, that we had made over the course of the semester. My own Ecuadorian friend Adrian was there as well. It was certainly fun on its own, but it was also a good reflection. Very rarely is everyone in the program gathered in one place, so it was good to see everyone. But moreover it was good to see the greater group of all of our friends. At the beginning we only knew each other. Now we knew so many more people.
On Friday I only worked. But on Saturday I went with my anthropology class on a field trip to an indigenous village called Quilotoa. The trip was fun and relaxing. We hiked down to a lagoon in the middle of a collapsed crater. Most people stuck to the path, but my friend Paul and I of course needed to find a shortcut. After finding a couple of shortcuts that only led to a vertical drop, we finally found a way down into the valley that was off the usual path. We beat everyone else down there. At the bottom, we rented a kayak to take around the lake. It was calm, but the valley was beautiful.
The hike back up needless to say was less fun than the trip down. We had the option of renting mules, but of course, being a man, I forwent that option. By the time I reached the top, my lungs were burning, but I had made it.
That night I learned a new card game, which I couldn't begin to spell, and is apparently played mostly in the midwest. Afterwards, we went outside, despite the biting cold, and looked at more stars than I had ever seen. I saw two shooting stars that night.
Sleeping that night was difficult at first. Quilotoa is incredibly cold, and I slept with six layers and a sweatshirt. The next day, we spoke with some of the indigenous about their lives in the village, which supposedly made the trip anthropology related. And afterwards we went home.
We got back into Quito around one. I went home, where I found my family beginning their mother's day lunch. There was more family than I had ever seen. My usual ecuasiblings, their significant others, and my ecuanephew were there. But my ecuaaunt, ecuacousins, and ecuagrandmother we all there as well, only one of whom I had met. My ecuagrandmother's mind was definitely starting to go, and she treated us to some very funny comments, one regarding how one of my ecuasisters needs to start having children because she's running out of time.
Afterwards I called my own mother, and was able to talk to her. We couldn't talk long, but it was okay because I was going to be back in Dallas in less than two weeks.
And it's true. I will be back in Dallas very soon, and my adventure in Ecuador will be over. It's hard to believe it went so quickly. I am so excited about returning home to see everything that is familiar and see everyone I love. But at the same time, I can't help hoping I end up back here in Ecuador one day.

Tena

There are many times I have been closer to death than this weekend. Walking among criminals in Quito, hiking among grizzly bears in Montana, swimming among sharks in Florida are just a few instances in which I was probably in more danger. I know that. However, our perceptions often do not reflect our reality. And this weekend certainly felt like one of the most dangerous of my life.
This weekend, I and a handful of friends went to Tena, a small town just inside the Amazon, to go rafting. My friend Kelly is big into rafting, and she had been telling us how she wanted to go for so long, so she organized a trip, negotiated a low price for us, and recruited those people who were interested. In the end it ended up being myself, her, and our friends Karen and David, and our Swiss friend Daniel. So on Friday afternoon we packed our bags, met in front of La Catolica, and made our way to the bus station. The bus ride to Tena was not especially comfortable (bus rides in Ecuador seldom are) but we arrived in good time.
I had forgotten how uncomfortable the climate was in the Amazon. The climates in the Ecuadorian mainland’s three main regions are all starkly different. The coast is dry and blazing hot, the sierra is dry and cool (though nowhere close to cold), and the Amazon is incredibly humid, heavy, and very warm. Though not the blazing heat of the coast, you still sweat all the time, and a shower does little to help.
When arrived we were greeted by Diego, the person with whom Kelly had been corresponding to coordinate the trip. He took us in his truck to our hostel, at which they had pre-arranged rooms, and was located next door to the rafting center. We were shown to our rooms, girls in one room, guys in another. We went out for a beer and a bite to eat, and then returned to sleep. This can be difficult to do in the Amazon because of the extremely hot humidity that permeates everything. However, we all slept as close to naked as possible on top of the covers, with the fan on full power.
It rained all night, as it often does in the rainforest, and the next morning the rain had brought the temperature down considerably, to a nice feel. We gathered and went downstairs for breakfast. We knew we would be rafting with others, so while we sat and waited for our food, we kept an eye out for other potential rafters. Four American girls sat at another table, who we later found out were rafting with us, and two other people, a guy and a girl, approached us where we were sitting.
“I suppose this is the table for the people who are rafting,” he said with a bit of an accent. We said yes, and invited them to sit. As we learned, they were both from Israel—Benjamin and Inbam were their names. They were incredibly interesting people. They had both served in the Israeli military (as all Israelis must do) and now were traveling all around South America. They had been to Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, and they were finishing in Colombia. They were both very nice, and speaking to them about life in Israel and their opinions on the global affairs that affected their nation was enlightening to say the least.
After breakfast we met our rafting guides, loaded into trucks with the equipment, and drove out to where our rafting would begin. When we arrived, we were given life jackets, helmets, and a safety talk that definitely had us asking ourselves what we had gotten ourselves into. We had two guides, one named Daniel, and another named Danny. I will try to keep these two and our Swiss friend Daniel all straight.
Daniel (the guide) told us about the various things we needed to do to stay safe on the river. He said that if the raft tips, try to grab onto the rope on the side. If you can’t and are floating freely, lay on your back with your legs bent in front of you to protect against rocks, and breathe. There were two things to look out for in the water: washing machines and whirlpools. Washing machines succeeded rocks, and were the points where the water was forced down, spun like a washing machine, and then came up. If we were caught in one we were told to get into the fetal position and let the washing machine spit us out rather than fight it. Whirlpools were, well, whirlpools. If caught in one, we were supposed to just let ourselves get sucked in and spit out downriver. For safety, Diego was in a kayak, and could come pick us up and drag us back to the raft. Diego was a kayaking professional, and never had any trouble on the river. He would accompany us the whole way.
We split into two groups: the four American girls and two Israelis in one raft, the five of us in another. We were with Danny; they were with Daniel. In our raft we also had Diego’s nephew, Ryan, who was around eight or nine years old, and became a fast friend of mine. The rafting went easily at first. We went over some small rapids, and some nice calm patches. We all began to get the feel for the oars and the commands. Everything seemed to be going well. Then we came to one patch that was especially rough.
We began the rafting, going over rapids, until we hit one particularly big wave, and took it sideways. To our horror, the raft flipped upside down, throwing us all into the water with it. I fought to get out from under it, and popped up quickly on the other side. I positioned myself as we were told, but quickly found myself going over some rapids solo. Ryan and David were also with me. The others had managed to get back into the raft. As I went downriver I plucked two oars out of the water, and David had managed to grab an oar himself. We went over a rock or two, and then Diego arrived in his kayak. David grabbed one side, I grabbed the other, and then I reached an oar out to Ryan, calling for him to grab it. We were not out of the rapids yet. We continued down the river, grasping in my left hand an oar that Ryan was clinging to, and in my right hand both another oar and the handle on the kayak that was keeping me somewhat safe. Diego fought to keep us all away from rocks and above water. The ride was rough and difficult, but we finally made it out of the rapids and were able to rejoin the raft.
Our raft did not flip for the rest of the trip. Whenever we came to something that looked like it could flip us, Danny yelled for us to jump inside the raft. By centering the weight within, we escaped flipping. The other raft was not so lucky however. They flipped three more times. The first time they and their oars scatted. We gathered their oars, and even one of their girls. I saw Benjamin drag two girls out of the water by himself. Once we exited that set of rapids, we returned them their oars and their final person. They flipped twice more, but showed increasing skill at scrambling back into the raft.
The day was very fun, and they views were absolutely gorgeous. There are few things in this world as beautiful as the Amazon, and seeing it from a river is incredible. The American girls were unfortunately leaving that night for Quito, but the Israelis were staying for the next day to raft with us again.
That night we all went with Diego back to his house, were we made a small fire and showed him and the Israelis a great American tradition: smores. David and I headed up the smores project. I had brought marshmallows, he had brought chocolate, and the girls had brought crackers (there are no graham crackers in Ecuador that we have found). With that, we showed them the beauty of smores. That night, with a stomach full of smores and muscles aching from the intense rowing, I slept excellently.
The next day was more difficult. The first day had been class 3+ rapids. The next day was class 4+ rapids. Inbal decided not to raft, so it was the five of us and Benjamin, this time with the guide Daniel, rather than Danny. Diego was our safety kayaker once again. We took the river at the beginning, and it was easy, but our plan was to take it to the Misahualli River, which would have the stronger rapids. Indeed the first river was easy, and beautiful. But when we reached the Misahualli, it became much rougher. The first couple of rapids we made easily. But on our first class 4, the raft flipped. We all were scattered, as were the paddles. David, Karen, and I got stuck in front of a washing machine, though not in it, so we swam with all our strength to get away from it. Kelly was not so lucky. She got stuck in one and was under the water for quite a while before popping back out. However, we all got back into the raft and went off again.
However, it was not long before we flipped again. We came to a long stretch of class 4 rapids, and began to take them. We did well at first, but came to a big wave. We hit it hard, and the boat flipped. As it went, I grabbed the side rope, so I remained near the raft. As soon as my head broke water I heard shouting. The guide was climbing on top of the raft to flip it upright while shouting at everyone to get to the left. David and Karen broke for the left. I, not understanding what he was saying, stuck with the raft. He flipped it and jumped in. The danger was we were quickly coming up on some fast and dangerous rapids, and being in the water was not a good idea.
The guide Daniel, our friend Daniel, Kelly and Benjamin had all managed to jump back in, but I was struggling. Just before we hit the rapids, Benjamin reached down, took me by the life jacket, and hauled me into the raft. And just in time. We huddled in the raft as the currents batted us around like a pinball. All I could hear were the rapids and the guide yelling at us to stay in the raft. Suddenly he yelled at us to row. We grabbed oars and began rowing for our lives. We finally reached an easy place and rowed to the side. We were missing Karen and David.
Suddenly, Diego emerged from the rapids on his kayak, towing Karen behind him. He brought her over to us and we pulled her in. She apparently had taken many of the rapids by herself, and had not had fun doing it. But we were still missing David. We rowed upstream a bit, and the guide got out to look for him. All of a sudden, we saw him on the bank of the river on the opposite side. We had been most afraid for him, but he had fared the best of us all. We rowed over, picked him up, and prepared for the next set of rapids, which were immediately before us.
We flipped once more, but were much faster at pulling ourselves back into the raft. After the third time the guide realized what our problem was. He told us if it seemed like we were going to flip we should lean forward to throw our weight to the front of the boat, and we would increase our chances of clearing it. We quickly had a chance to test this out on a string of long class 4 rapids called paranoia. Paranoia was difficult, but we employed his strategy, and effectively cleared them without flipping.
After paranoia, we rowed to the side of the river. The next set of rapids was called Casanova, and was class 6. We could not raft them. So instead, the guides tied the raft to a rope and walked along the side, dragging the raft through the difficult rapids. We had to hike up into the forest and around a cliff side to reach the place where we would get back in. Here was the problem with Casanova: while we skipped most of it, there was one big rapid we still would have to clear in the raft, and flipping was a bad idea because further downriver, before Casanova ended completely, was an incredibly powerful washing machine, one that might now spit you out, or might actually just hold you under the water with the force of the water pressure. That meant if we fell our we would either have to hold desperately to the raft and hope, or make a break for the side and try to hold ourselves there until we could be rescued. Neither was an incredibly appealing option.
We were all incredibly nervous as we slowly boarded the raft. The guide gave us the instructions: we would have to row incredibly hard, and just as we hit the wave, we would have to all get in the raft to try to keep it from flipping. My heart was pounding and my adrenaline was pumping harder that in had yet. We pushed off and began to row. The first challenge was going over the rapid in the right place. If we went over in the wrong place we would smash against some rocks. We came to the right rapid, and here was the hard part. The guide yelled at us to row forward, as the rapid got louder and louder. “In!” he finally yelled. We all jumped in the raft, and hoped.
The raft smashed into the wave, turning up the nose. My heart leapt and I prepared to grab the rope on the side of the boat for our overturning. But, the nose fell back, and the raft was pushed over the wave, staying righted. “Forward!” the guide yelled, and we all scrambled back to our positions, rowing as hard as we possibly could. We cleared the final small rapid, and had reached calm waters.
We all cheered at having cleared the rapid, and breathed a sigh of relief. From then on the rapids were not as bad, and we never overturned again. We finally ended our journey at the port of Misahualli, which ironically enough was the same place we had begun our first journey in the Amazon in February. Then, I had come down to the bank of the river to look at the river. Now I was riding up to the town on the river, and the people on the bank were watching me. We arrived, dragged the boat up, and after eating a hearty and much needed meal, returned to Tena.
The weekend was incredibly fun, though terrifying at times. Our guides were very excellent, and we made some new friends from Israel. This will very possibly be the last big trip I take in Ecuador, and if it is, it will have been one of the greatest, and certainly the most extreme. Not only will it stand out as one of the greatest times in Ecuador, it will stand out forever as one of the greatest adventures in my life.

Cotopaxi

When I first arrived in Ecuador, I heard from many people, both Americans who had visited Ecuador and Ecuadorians, that one of the things I absolutely needed to do was visit the volcano of Cotopaxi. Cotopaxi is the tallest active volcano in Ecuador, and the second tallest volcano, next to Chimborazo. So, some friends and I decided to take a day trip and visit on Saturday.

We went with a general idea of how we would get there, but we really planned little for the actual trip. We decided in advance that we would meet in front of La Catolica, our university, at an incredibly early seven in the morning. It sounded like a good idea on Friday, but on Saturday morning when my alarm went of at six a.m., I felt differently. After eating and packing my bag with two different jackets, I headed off. Those of us who were going were: me, my friends Kelly and Karen, with whom I do most of my traveling, my friends Liz and Emily, and a Swiss guy named Daniel who we had met on Thursday. Once we were all together, we headed off in the direction of the bus called the Trole. The Trole ride was about an hour, and we had to switch buses at one point, but it was fun. I, in my usual self, broke into song, immediately separating the morning people, who found it fun and amusing, from those who are definitely not morning people. Example: Karen joined me in a chorus of "Ring of Fire", while Emily, embarrassed, asked me to stop drawing attention to us.

We arrived at the Quitumbre station, and hopped on a bus to Latacunga, which is just a half-hour south of Cotopaxi. We told the bus driver that we wanted to stop in front of the Cotopaxi national park, and so when we reached it, he dropped us off on the side of the road. In the park, we were met by a man with a truck who told us for ten dollars a person he would drive us to the foot of the volcano, wait for us to climb, and then drive us back. We accepted, and rode in the back of his truck on the long ride to the foot of the volcano. Once there, we climbed up to the first refuge on the mountain. The climb, as most climbs are, was a struggle, especially at first, but we finally reached the refuge. From there, after resting, we went on to the enormous glacier that covers the top of the volcano.

On the mountain, we ran into many Europeans, and a couple of Texans, from Houston, who were in Ecuador for the weekend for a little climbing. It's always nice to speak to Americans. It was extra nice to speak to Texans. I got an update on my home state, accompanied by a twinge of nostalgia. Afterwards, we headed back down the mountain, a significantly easier leg of the overall climb. At the bottom we met our driver and talked to him about our climb. He told us a few interesting facts about Cotopaxi, and then turned and pointed up to the mountain. "You see on the mountain how towards the bottom the ground is black?" he asked in spanish. Yes, we replied. "Above that is red ground, and above that is the glacier." He was right. In between the glacier and the normally colored blackish brown soil was a swath of maroon soil. "That," he told us, "is where, twenty years ago, the glacier was." The glacier has been receding for the past twenty years at an alarming rate, due to the warming global climate, and the red ground marked where it had once been.

We drove next to a lagoon in the park to take some pictures, and after to a museum. I say museum, but that word is a bit of a stretch. It was more like a couple of room with pictures and information of the mountain. But still, it was free. Finally, we drove back to the road. There, we flagged down a bus headed to Quito (this is common practice in Ecuador) and for a dollar got a ride back.

The next day I realized that after climbing the mountain, I had gotten a light sunburn on the back of my neck and on my face. I had not even thought about sunscreen because it was cold on the top of the mountain, but in truth the atmosphere was thin and the sun was on me most of the time, so it makes sense. But later, my ecuamadre pointed out the irony that I had spent five days in the Galapagos islands without getting burned, and then one day on a cold mountain, and I did.

Las Islas Galápagos

One of the few places on earth untouched by pre-industrial man. The site of one of humanity's most significant scientific advancements. A land lying directly on the Equator, representing a diverse palette of life found all over the world. The Galapagos Islands. Ecuador commonly is divided into four pieces: the Amazon, the Sierra, which is all the land that lies in the Andean Mountains, and the Coast. But often a fourth piece is added: The Galapagos. It is a popular, yet scarcely visited tourist destination due to the enormously high costs of traveling there and the strict regulations placed on the islands to preserve its natural beauty. So the fact that I had the opportunity to visit is an incredible blessing that I will probably never have again.

On our first day, Holy Thursday, I woke up early and, thanks to the graciousness of my ecuapadre, was driven to the airport early in the morning. We all met, bags in hand, went through security, and boarded the plane. The plane ride was very comfortable, and we acted fairly ridiculous. The plane made a forty-five minute stop in Guayaquil to unload some passengers, and take on a few. During our recess, some of us contemplated playing hide and go seek on the plane (though not seriously) but ultimately rejected the idea. The ride to the islands themselves lasted about an hour and a half, and we finally landed on the tiny island of Baltra, which is just north of Santa Cruz.

As soon as we stepped off the plane, we were hit by a wave of heat that we would then be enduring for the rest of the trip. We waited in line to go through the security check. Afterwards, we grabbed our bags, and met our guides for the first time. All travelers to the Galapagos are required to be accompanied by a guide, both for the security of the tourists, and the protection of the environment. Ours were a tall, skinny man named Ramiro, and a shorter, stouter man named Humberto. They would come to play a very important role in our Galapagos adventure.

Next, we boarded a boat to go to Santa Cruz. The distance was so short between the islands that you could see the other side, but during our very short boat ride we saw some pelicans, and two sea lions, the first of many that we would see during our trip. Once we reached the other side, we got off, and got on a bus to our hotel. We dropped our bags, and went to dinner. Afterwards, we took a bus to a place called Los Gemelos, which is Spanish for the twins. The twins were twin craters in the ground, which were enormous and beautiful. We hiked around, and ended at a swamp. We tried to find tortoises, but could not, so we returned to the hotel. That night, a group of us walked to a karaoke bar, where a group of Ecuadorians was singing, and not well I might add. We wrested the microphone from them, and sang some songs of our own. We traded back and forth for a while, and our English songs attracted the attention of some elderly female American tourist. For our grand finale, we sang “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion, and all the American women joined in. Needless to say, it was epic display of gringo grandiosity.

Despite the hard bed and hot room, I slept like a rock. The next morning we woke early and ate breakfast. Everyone filled their water bottles, purchased medicine for seasickness, as we would be taking a boat ride later that day, and we were off to the famous Charles Darwin Research Station. At the station, we split into two groups, which would be our groups for the rest of the trip. My group was with Humberto, and was named Los Piqueros de Patas Azules, after a famous bird from the Galapagos. The other group, whose guide was Ramiro, was named Los Piqueros de Patas Rojas, which is another famous bird endemic to the Galapagos. On our tour we saw many different kinds of plants, and more interestingly, many different tortoises, including the famous Lonesome George, an iconic turtle who is the last of his species. We saw tortoises up close, tortoises mating, and land iguanas. It was at this time that everyone came to the realization; Los Piqueros de Patas Azules was definitely the better group.

Next, we headed back to the hotel to grab our bags, and then to the dock to board the boats. Each group boarded a different boat, and we were off. The waves were choppy and the boat bounced quite a bit. I had taken the seasickness medicine beforehand, but I felt sick anyway. I found that if I lay down on the floor of the boat, the urge to vomit was not quite as powerful, so I took a nap on the floor of the boat. Finally, after an hour and a half, we arrived at our next island: Isabela. We felt like champions as we chugged into the bay of Isabela in waters that were full of sea lions, small sharks, fish, and various rays. The water was clear as crystal, and we felt like we were in paradise. We got off, boarded a bus, and went to our hotel. We changed into swimsuits, put on our sunscreen, and went for a walk. We explored a part of the town, and ended at the beach, where all of us, the students, the guides, and the program directors, all plunged into the cool water. Many of us in our excitement took up a chorus of Journey's “Don't Stop Believing”, changing some key words to fit our location. We got out, and followed our guides to an underwater Mangrove, where we dove in again to explore. When the sun was setting we got out and headed back to the hotel. After dinner, we were free, and naturally, we went looking for ice cream. We made a visit to the beach and then returned to the hotel for another wonderful sleep.

We rose early again the next morning for breakfast and then changed into hiking clothes. Before I go on, let me describe the island of Isabela a little bit. It is the biggest island in Galapagos. The Galapagos were formed from volcanoes, and where most of them have one volcano, Isabela has five, and the most southern volcano has the second biggest crater in the world. We drove to the foot of a trail on this volcano and from there; we began our hike up to the crater. The day began very hot, but cooled as clouds rolled in. We reached the top of the crater, and could see down into the old volcano, which was covered by volcanic rock and green growth. From there, we hiked around the crater, stopping for lunch at some benches, until we reached the opposite side. Then, we crossed a field of volcanic rock, the site of an old eruption, which was covered in black rock and cactus. We finally stopped at a crest in the mountain, where we overlooked a beautiful view. After taking some pictures, we turned and went back.

We were exhausted, but the day was only half over. On the bus ride back, a group of us (that may or may not have been led by myself) treated the island of Isabela to a full spread of jubilant American songs ranging from “A Whole New World” to “Take Me Home Country Roads” to “Ring of Fire”. We returned to the hotel, applied second layers of sunscreen, changed into bathing suits, and prepared for snorkeling. We each received a mask and pair of flippers, boarded a bus, and drove to the docks. There, we divided into our groups and boarded boats which took us out into a bay. And there, we dove in. The water was filled with absolutely beautiful, and plentiful, fish. There were fish of all different colors. Partway through our swim people started exclaiming about a sea lion that they had seen swimming around. Occasionally I would hear someone shriek in excitement as they declared that they too had seen it. The sea lion in question finally came up to a small beach area, where we all gathered to watch him play. At one point during our swim, one of our guides declared he was going to look for sea turtles, and swam off. In a short time, he began calling to us. I was one of the first to reach him. He had indeed found a turtle, and I came upon it quite suddenly gliding through the water. The animal was beautiful. It swam slowly and gracefully. It controlled where it went with slow beats of its flippers, but also let the waves carry it if they came in. The animal appeared as if it were flying. It was very calm, and made no reaction when I swam up beside it.

Soon the turtle had led us all far out in the bay, and the sun was beginning to set. Our guide told us we should begin heading back, so we began to the swim back to the boats. That night we ate, and I went for a walk with some friends to the beach where we stayed until nearly midnight looking at the incredible display of stars over the ocean.

The next day was the fourth day, Easter, and we were all very happy. Maybe there were divine graces surrounding us, or maybe we were growing so tired from all the activity without proper rest that it was beginning to make us crazy. Whatever the reason, we were all in a good place. After breakfast, we gathered our stuff, including our snorkeling equipment, returned to the docks, and boarded our boats in our respective groups. This boat ride, I chose not to take my seasickness medicine. I felt the same as I had before, so I spent the majority of the boat ride on my back, keeping my stomach from giving the ocean my breakfast.

After about two hours we arrived at our destination: the island of Floreana.
When we arrived, there was a blanket of clouds covering the sky. We waited on the boat until our ride arrived on shore. We got off, leaving our luggage on the boat, and took only what we needed. We got into the back of a pickup truck, which proceeded to drive us to the hiking trail we were going to. On the way, it began to rain, and we sang songs the entire way, slowly getting soaked. A bus full of Ecuadorians came up behind us, laughing and taking pictures of the truck full of gringos singing “Baby Got Back”.

When we arrived at the trail, we were soaked. We set off, encountering giant tortoises, man-made caves, and a big statue of a face made by pirates years ago. Afterwards, we went back, got back into the truck, and returned to the dock. We got back in our boat, which took us out to a bay in Floreana. We met our friends there, and had another round of snorkeling. I spent about half the time swimming, and the other half on a small beach watching two sea lions play with one another. Finally, it was time to go, and we all returned to our boats. This was the one island we were not spending the night on. Instead, we were off to our final destination: San Cristobal.

On this boat ride, I tried a new tactic. The captain, for whatever reason, decided to be far laxer with the rules on this final trip. The boat had a back area to sit in, but the front was sloped, and not meant for people. Nevertheless, he let some girls lie down on the sloped front, and let me sit at the nose. The boat was very bumpy, and more than once my butt came off the boat itself. I gripped the rail in front to keep myself from flying off into the sea, and enjoyed the combination of the beautiful view and the wind on my face. And I found if I sat in the front of the boat, I didn’t feel seasick.

During the boat ride, the captain saw something, and stopped the boat. We all looked out to see what he had seen, and saw a huge spout of water come shooting up from the surface of the ocean. It was a whale! More than once he surfaced for air, and we saw the length of his backside. Finally, he disappeared altogether, but it didn’t matter. We had seen a whale, and that was enough for us.

The second half of the boat ride was wonderful. I could see the silhouette of San Cristobal in the distance, and watched, as it slowly grew closer. At my back was the sunset, which was a beautiful one. Finally we reached San Cristobal and drew into port. The port town was gorgeous, and was my favorite of all the ones we had been to. We took a taxi to the hotel, where we dropped our stuff. We had an hour until dinner, so I went walking around, and came to a playground on the beach, where nearly a hundred sea lions had come ashore to rest. I passed the time talking to people and watching the sea lions until it was time for dinner. After dinner, we walked down the pier, and got ice cream. We considered staying out for longer, but everyone was so exhausted, that we just returned to the hotel to sleep.

The next day was the final day. We took a bus to a trail, where we hiked through forest and mist until we reached a huge lagoon. After admiring it for a while, and taking some pictures, we returned to go to a museum. This was the one part of the trip that no one really wanted to do. Most people felt like going to a museum was a waste of our precious time left in the Galapagos. Thankfully, the museum was closed. So instead we walked down to the beach for some independent exploring. After we had spent the remainder of our time, we got back in our bus, and drove to the airport. We bid farewell to our guides, and boarded our flight. As we took off, we said goodbye to the beautiful islands that we would probably never again have the privilege of visiting.

The trip was incredible, and by far the best one I have taken here in Ecuador. But it was significant for another reason as well. Because for all of us, our trip to the Galapagos was that highlight of our time in Ecuador that was far away, that was near the end. It was always something standing between us and leaving the country. Now that it has passed, we are all realizing how little time we have left in Ecuador, and how close we are to returning home.

A week in Ecuador

My weekends in Ecuador are some of the most exciting I've ever had. I'm almost always traveling somewhere new, trying something exciting, and having some sort of adventure. But I'm definitely not living from weekend to weekend. My weeks are filled as well with my classes, and my volunteering, both of which can prove to be adventure-filled in their own right.

I'm taking five classes: four at IES and one at the university La Catolica. My class at La Catolica is called Biodiversity of the Galapagos, and is about the flora and fauna of the Galapagos Islands. The professor is fun and funny, is a Mac fan (like myself) and always seems to know more about US news than I would expect. The class is an hour and forty minutes, but the last thirty are usually spent watching part of a documentary on the Galapagos, Planet Earth, or some other piece of a documentary pertaining to what we learned. That's good because a day of looking at slides about plants can get boring after a little while. I have a class called Ecuador and Globalization, which is incredibly interesting and mentally stimulating, and usually has my friend Paul, an Economics major, and I discussing some new policy scheme that the Ecuadorian government could try to improve its economic situation. I have an anthropology class which is usually at least moderately interesting, which at best has us debating ethical issues, and at worst teaches us something new about the culture of some indigenous group, which is still interesting. My fourth class is called Indigenous Literature, which is not literature by the indigenous but literature about the indigenous. The class is easy and very interesting. We usually spend our time reading sections of historical writings like the Diaries of Christopher Columbus, Guaman Poma, Bartolome de Las Casas, Padre Gutierrez, and others. It's definitely cool to look at a section of writing by Christopher Columbus and read his description of the new world in its original language. My final class, and my favorite, is my spanish class, in which we do about 40% grammar, and about 60% cultural-related readings. The professor is very intelligent, and has made me think very differently about a number of subjects.

In between and after classes my time is basically taken up by two different volunteering projects. I volunteer about nine to ten hours a week at a place called La Fundación de los Abuelitos y Abuelitas de la Calle. The Foundations is a place where the elderly can go to spend their morning. They get a free breakfast, get to do an art activity, have a prayer service, get a free lunch, and have access to some free healthcare at the on-site clinic, operated by young volunteer doctors and medical students. You never know what a day there is going to consist of. Sometimes I'm painting something, helping build something, or selling bread out of the kiosk on the road right outside (one of the many ways they finance the foundation). Sometimes I'm in the kitchen helping cook lunch, and sometimes I'm helping the Abuelitos with their art activities. It's always very interesting.

The other volunteering project I've undertaken is attempting to teach my ecuamadre and a friend of the family, Luchito, english. My first foray into teaching has been a quite interesting and enlightening one. Usually I make up a lesson a day before class that consists of a Vocabulary section and a Grammar section. The vocabulary is split between vocabulary revolving around a specific theme (like the home, or the office) and the verbs come out of a book of spanish verbs I have. I add about ten new verbs a lesson. The grammar section revolves a new grammatical theme. We usually work a few examples together, and then I give them pre-prepared homework to reinforce the grammar lesson and see the vocab in real sentences.

The experience has definitely taught me a few things. First, all the in-class exercises and homework that I've done in my life I realize now were actually very necessary, as were the exams necessary in forcing me to review and learn the material. Second, there are many strange things about the english language that don't make a lot of sense. For example, the way we make sentences negative is very strange. Usually you add the words "do not" to the sentence. I go becomes I don't go, I run becomes I don't run, and so one. With more complicated sentences the word not gets inserted in strange places. I have come back becomes I have not come back. Why does "not" break up the verb "have come"? It makes no sense! Then there are some things that are very arbitrary in both languages, like prepositions. Why do we do things on friday? Why not in friday, or of friday? And why is my paper on World War 2? I mean, a paper could not be literally on World War 2, but we say that. And there are similar nonsensical preposition choices in Spanish. And then there are things in english that make more sense. For example, a subject always goes before a verb, and an object always comes after. The boy caught the ball. Subject-Verb-Object. But in Spanish it can sometimes be Object-Verb-Subject, and it means the same thing. Sometimes the Object always comes before the verb, sometimes it always comes after, and sometimes they are interchangeable.

There are other great linguistic observations that I have made that I don't need to explain here. But suffice it say with classes and volunteering, my weekends in Ecuador are certainly adventure-filled, but my weeks are not dull either.

Riobamba

Would it be repetitive to say I had another great weekend? Thursday night I struggled with a difficult decision: get started on my mountain of work, or go over to a friend's house to watch a movie. Obviously I made the responsible choice. We watched "The Hurt Locker" (which just won the Oscar for Best Picture) at my friend Karen's house, with my friend Kelly, and the three other guys in our program: Paul, David, and Tyler. For once, the guys outnumbered the girls. The movie was very compelling and interesting, and we had a good time. I realized though just how comfortable we had all become here. When I met Karen's ecuapadres, it was not as if I were meeting strangers she was staying with, but her parents. She walked the house as if it were hers, and we spoke of it as if it were hers. When we talked about coming to the house, we spoke of Quito with complete familiarity. And when it was time to go, we said we needed to go home. It's interesting how completely integrated we've become in our lives here. It feels not like I'm in college, nor like I'm on vacation, but like I have some other life, separate from my own, with a new family, new friends, a new house, a new city, a new language, a new culture, and a new country. Philip put his life on hold on January 5th, and Felipe picked up on January 6. It will be very bittersweet to leave Felipe behind and pick back up where Philip left off. It's the same person, but two totally different lives.

On Friday I woke up early and went to La Catolica (my ecuadorian university) to meet up with my friends. My friend Karen tutors an Ecuadorian girl at La Catolica named Adriana, and Adriana lives in Riobamba, which is about three hours south of Quito. She said that any time we want we could come to Riobamba and stay at their house, so we chose this weekend. We met up, and traveled together to the station, where we hopped a bus to Riobamba. The town was similar to Quito, but smaller, quieter, with fewer people and less traffic. It was big enough that it was a city, but small enough to be peaceful and safe. We ate lunch, and went on to her house. That afternoon, we went to a museum for religious artifacts, all of which were Catholic. I don't think everyone was as accustomed as I was to the (sometimes very bloody) images of Christ on the cross. Later, we played an Ecuadorian card game, and then taught our Ecuadorian friends (there was one other Ecuadorian girl with us) the game BS. We ate dinner, and then went out along with Adriana's brother to a club called Señal. The club had open bar until 11 but for only two drinks. One I had heard of: Cuba Libre. It's only rum and coke. The other I hadn't. It was a Placer Colombiano (Colombian pleasure), and it was extremely delicious. I like almost no alcohol drinks, but that one was good.

The next day we woke up early to start the day. We had two objectives: visit the Saturday market in Riobamba, and climb part of Chimborazo, which is the tallest mountain in Ecuador, with a tip that marks the farthest point on earth from the core. We packed our backpacks, and then piled into Adriana's mom's car to go to the market. There are three major markets that happen in Riobamba on Saturday: the fruit and vegetable market, the animal market, and the artisan market. We visited the former two. Unlike Otovalo, the Riobamban market is not touristy at all. We were the only gringoes in sight. The market was more for farmers to sell their products wholesale to other vendors, who then take them out into rural areas as sell them for a profit. While there I got a delicious bag of strawberries for a dollar, and a fresh nectarine for forty cents.

We next went to the animal market, which was a very unique and interesting experience. People were dragging pigs and cows through the streets, carrying piglets around, walking with mules and donkeys, and one guy was even milking a cow on the side of the road. At this market, people come to sell their animals, which are then turned into food. And they do that turning right there on sight. We walked to a slaughterhouse, where I saw the entire system for preparing a pig for shipment to the grocery store. We came upon a pen just outside of the slaughterhouse, in which there were two men, two pigs wandering around, and a dead pig hanging up by his jaw and being hosed down by one of the men with a blowtorch, I suppose to bake the skin so that is more easily removed. The other man was preparing to slaughter another one of the pigs. It was the first time I had ever seen an animal slaughtered. It was fast. The pig clearly had no idea what was coming. The man stood there, knife in hand, and as the pig walked by, he struck in one quick motion, and then stepped back, bloody knife in hand. The pig gave a shriek as the knife slit its throat, and then just stood there as blood poured from its neck. It tried to remain standing, but its legs buckled, and it fell on its side. It lay there, heaving and making noise, fighting for its life. The man grabbed a bucket and began to pour water on it, washing the blood into a sewer. Soon, the pig breathed its last breath. The man dragged it over to its companion, and hung the pig up by its jaw to begin blowtorching it. Inside the slaughterhouse was a conveyor belt of pig carcasses. The workers were systematic and dispassionate as they beheaded them, skinned them, and cut them in half.

Afterwards, we returned to Adriana's house, her mom got out, and her brother got in. We drove to Chimborazo, which is about thirty or forty kilometers from Riobamba (everything is in the metric system here). We drove up to the second refuge, and hiked to the third. The mountain was a little cold where we were, but when you were hiking it was not as cold as when you stood still. It was cloudy, but when the clouds parted and showed us the mountain, the view was incredible. Chimborazo sloped upward, and the majority was covered in snow. In fact, the place where we were was apparently covered in snow only a few years ago. But here, like on every mountain around the world, the snows have been receding rapidly, further proof that the world is warming unnaturally quickly. We took some incredible pictures, and finally reached the refuge, where we went in for some tea. We sat for awhile and warmed ourselves by the fire, and as we did, a group of indigenous Ecuadorians came in. They had been hiking all day. I struck up a conversation with the group and we talked for a good ten to fifteen minutes. There was Luis, who wore a big red poncho, Jose, who I had a hard time understanding, Domingo, who wore no indigenous clothes, but regular jeans, shirt, and jacket, and Marie, and Cecilia, neither of whom spoke to me much. Another group of travelers came in after them, and one of them sat next to me--a youth from Guayaquil named Jose as well. We all had a good conversation about Ecuador, and then left. We descended the mountain with our indigenous friends, talking all the way. When we reached the second refuge, where the cars were parked, they insisted on getting some pictures with us. Luis lent me his red poncho for the pictures. When they left they taught me the Quichua for "Goodbye my friends". All I remember is "Cayacama" which means goodbye. It bothers people sometimes how much I enjoy talking to strangers, one of the many great things I inherited from my father, but I meet very interesting people, have very interesting conversations, and always learn new things. Why do I want to talk to people so much, I am asked. Why wouldn't I want to talk to people?

That night we were exhausted. We went into town for some dinner and ice cream, but then returned to the house. We didn't have the energy to go out. Instead we stayed up and talked. The conversation that night, like the conversation all weekend, was very bilingual. Our Ecuadorian friends undersood most english, and even spoke some. We understood most spanish and spoke quite a bit. So communication was never a problem, but our group conversations were constantly switching for one language to the next.

The next morning, my friends wanted to stay until midday, but I needed to return to Quito, so I left by myself. I got back into Quito in time for lunch, and then began my work. I spent the afternoon and evening, with an hour long exception for mass, glued to the computer, watching the U.S. healthcare debate unfold. No matter how far away I am, I'm still connected to the U.S. news.

We are now firmly past the halfway point of our program. So far, the experience has been phenomenal. Getting to know Ecuador has been the experience of a lifetime. It has been fulfilling and fun to watch myself and all my friends here improve in our Spanish, as we all are able to converse more and more in depth. The other night my ecuapadre and I had a long discussion touching on themes such as where I needed to travel still in Ecuador, what I wanted to do with my future, learning other languages, capitalism, socialism, the Peace Corps, and human nature. I was pleased that I could carry such an in depth conversation (though the actual content of the conversation left my young, idealistic self frustrated). Every day I am reminded of how far I have come in my study of spanish, and every day I am reminded of how far I still have to go.

I love this country

On Friday some friends and I went to the part of Quito known as the Centro Historico, which is basically Old Colonial Quito. We had been before, but we never really had the opportunity to explore it, so we decided to spend Friday doing just that. When we were there, we purchased a huge baguette for eighty cents. It was so big that it wouldn't fit in my backpack, so it stuck out the top like an antenna. We first went to the Presidential Palace for a tour, but found the next one was in an hour and half, at one in the afternoon. We also realized that one of my friends had forgotten all of her IDs back at her house, which is required to enter the Palace. We weren't sure what we were going to do. So, my friend Kelly and I showed our IDs, and the woman put wristbands for the tour on all three of our wrists. I love this country.

With an hour and half until the tour, we decided to head to the Basilica to climb to the top while we waited. The view from the top of the Basilica was beautiful, and provided an excellent view of the city. On our way back down, my friend Karen stopped in the bathroom, while Kelly and I went exploring. When Karen found us again, she was grasping something in her hands. She had found fifty dollars on the bathroom floor. We wanted to try to get it back to the owner, but there was no lost and found in the basilica, and we knew anyone we gave it to would just keep it form themselves. So we kept it. I love this country.

Next, we headed back down to the Presidential Palace. The tour guide met us, and asked us to show him our IDs. We had a lie prepared, in case that asked for Karen's ID a second time. The great thing was, we didn't have to use it: the guard of offered it for us. We said that she had it when she got the wristband, and the guard asked if it was robbed. We said we thought so, and the guard reassured the tour guide that the IDs were checked when they gave out the wristbands, so the tour guide let her in. And so my friend got into the home and administrative center of the Ecuadorian President without identification. I love this country.

Later, we made a stop at one of my stores that sell bootleg movies. The stores are everywhere, and operate legitimately in the sight of police without a problem. I bought three movies for four dollars and fifty cents, one of which was Avatar, which I'm not even sure is out on DVD yet. They also had Alice in Wonderland, which is definitely not on DVD anywhere. I love this country.

Yesterday, I got in the elevator in our building, and while I was in it, the elevator broke. I would go to no floors, and I couldn't open the doors. So, I called my ecuapadres, and my ecuapadre forced the door open with his bare hands. I was only in there for ten minutes. Apparently another woman had been inside for almost two hours. I love this country.

In other words, Ecuador is still awesome. You never know what crazy thing is going to happen to you while you're here. And you never know what your day is going to entail.

B is for birthday, B is for Baños

This past week, I knew my birthday was coming up. So to celebrate, I decided I would plan a weekend trip to a place called Baños. Consulting a friend's Lonely Planet guide, which let me just say has served us all very well, I made reservations at a hostel, I looked into a bus, and I coordinated the trip. There ended up being six of us who went, and we were joined later by one other girl with two of her friends, and even later we ran into another friend of ours and her boyfriend.

On Friday, we woke up early and took taxis to a bus line that runs through Quito called the Trole. We took the Trole all the way south to where it terminated. The ride was beautiful and I was able to see the south side of Quito, which I had never seen before. The station was new and incredible, and resembled an airport. When we walked up, all of the people selling tickets were yelling at us the destinations of our bus and trying to motion to us to come purchase from them. Buses were running back and forth from Baños all the time, so we hopped on the next bus, and were off. The ride itself was about three hours, and when we arrived in Baños it was raining. My friend Eric had gone ahead of us the night before and had stayed the night at a different hostel already, so we met him and headed off to our hostel. Our hostel was named Princesa Maria. It was beautiful and nice, with an owner named Yolanda who was the essence of happiness. She gave me a big hug when she says us (as I had been the person she had coordinated with), and we settled into our rooms. The hostel was much nicer than we were used to. It had private bathrooms, comfortable beds, a common area, and a fully equipped available kitchen. And, it was only six dollars a night per person to boot! After setting down our stuff, we discussed what we should do.

Now I should explain Baños is the spanish word for baths, and the town is named such for the natural hot springs that flow in the town. It is what they are famous for. So, naturally, we wanted to make the hot springs a part of our weekend. But now we were all hungry, and Eric had another activity in mind as well, so we changed into our bathing suits (to be ready for the hot springs later) and headed off to look for some food. We finally chose a Mexican food restaurant where we had a great meal of Mexican food. Afterwards, we headed off to the activity Eric had suggested.

Earlier that day, Eric had observed that there was a big bridge running over a deep ravine near the bus station in Baños. At this bridge you were able to do something called "puenting". This is where you are strapped into a harness, which is attached to a rope, which is attached to the side of the bridge. It's sort of like bungee jumping, but the rope is taught, so you don't bounce, you just get caught by the rope. Eric and I made a lot of big talk about puenting. That meant that we were first up when we reached the bridge. Now speaking about jumping off a bridge is one thing, but when you are there looking over the side of the rail, it's quite another. But I couldn't back down. I stepped into my harness and was strapped to the rope. There was two platforms from which people could jump, so Eric and I prepared to jump at the same time. We climbed up and stood on the platforms that jutted off from the rail of the bridge.

I was horrified. My heart was racing and my adrenaline was pumping. The guys who administered the services and supervised the jump only spoke spanish, but when I turned and made an exclamation that involved a word beginning with the letter F, they laughed and knew exactly what I was saying. Our friends stood on the bridge taking pictures of us and making jokes about us falling to their deaths, which didn't help. The guy told us he would count to three and we would jump, and immediately began to count, "1, 2,...3". Now here's the thing. We were strapped in tight, we were in absolutely no danger. But when I was standing on the platform, I couldn't feel that I was strapped in. The rope would not be pulled taught until it caught me mid-fall. So when I jumped, it really just felt like I was jumping off a bridge. The thought crossed my mind to not jump on 3, but I knew if I did that, it would be so much harder to do it. So I did. Defying every instinct screaming at me, I jumped off the platform. I fell about fifty feet, flipping around, and was caught by the rope. I swung there over the ravine, screaming in excitement as my adrenaline raged. I was slowly lowered to the ground, where a boy at the bottom helped me disconnect from the rope. I made my way back to the bridge, my heart racing.

My friend Kelly jumped as well, and had an equally great time, but we couldn't convince the other girls to do it. After the adrenaline rush, we set off to see the hot springs. We found the hot springs would be closing soon when we arrived, and would be closed for one hour before they opened again. So we decided instead to go search for some food for dinner that we could prepare after the hot springs. I had brought pancake mix, so we decided we would do pancakes for dinner, and we would buy fruit to put in them. We found a fruit market where we bought blackberries, strawberries, bananas, and mangoes, and then went across the street to buy champagne and orange juice. We brought everything back to the hostel, dropped it off, and returned to the hot springs.

The hot springs were wonderful. We ran into some other Americans who we talked to for awhile, and after enjoying ourselves, we left and returned to the hostel. We were already famished, so after changing, we fired up the stove, and I got to cooking. After a few misfire pancakes, I got into the rhythm, and began pumping them out. With the vanilla extract I had brought and the fruit we added, they turned out great. My friend Karen cut up all the fruit, and people lined up to receive pancakes. I'd ask the person in line what they wanted, and they would tell me. I would tell them to grab the fruit as I pulled in the batter, and they would drop in what they wanted. I'd cook it, flip it, cook it, and then deposit the pancake on their plate. Then, I'd repeat it. We had maple syrup and chocolate syrup, both of which were put on top of the pancakes. To drink, we made mimosas. It was a fantastic dinner. When we were done, we cleaned up, relaxed, and headed out for a night on the town. We did little, and waited for midnight when it became my birthday. At midnight, we went looking for a place with cheap shots so I could give off my birthday right. One bar, desperate to get people in the door, told me I could have a free tequila shot for my birthday. So at midnight, the bartender and took shots of tequila together. It was gross, but preceded by salt and succeeded by a lime, it was not so bad.

The next day we woke up early and set about making breakfast--scrambled eggs and bread with peanut butter. Next, we rented bikes, and set off on a ride. Baños has a beautiful bike bath that takes people by many waterfalls. We stopped at each one to take pictures. At one we hiked down to the waterfall, where we met two Americans who were volunteers in Ecuador and were vacationing in Baños. We biked all the way to the last waterfall, where we left the bikes at a free bike parking lot and hiked up to the waterfall, where you could pay a dollar to climb behind the waterfall. I led the pack and was the first to go through the small tunnel and get behind the waterfall. We all waited until everyone reached it, and then raced back. Soaked, we headed back to where our bikes were. It started to rain, so we figured it was a good time to stop for lunch. After lunch, we found a truck to load up our bikes and take us back to Baños. Once back we returned to the hostel to relax.

After resting, we left to climb 600 stairs to a giant statue of the Virgin Mary and the Christ child. From there we talked and watched the sun set behind the mountains. After, we made our way to an Italian restaurant. There, I got a free slice of cake and a free orange juice and amaretto because it was my birthday. The owner was very nice, and spoke excellent english, though we still spoke to him in spanish. Afterwards, we returned to our hostel.

We took a bus called a chiva to the top of the volcano. Unfortunately, we could not see the erupting volcano because of cloud cover, but we did see a cool show with people who juggled fire. Afterwards, we took the bus back down and spent the rest of the night wandering around looking for somewhere to hang out. We ended at the same place I had gotten a free tequila shot the previous night, where they were playing American music. We danced until we were tired, and then left for the hostel.

The next day I awoke to the sound of Eric packing his bags. I wanted to get back to Quito to eat lunch with my ecuafamilia and celebrate my birthday, so I packed as well and we left. We caught an 8:30 bus, in which I slept a lot. Once back, we took buses back to our houses. Once I got back, I walked in the door to find everyone possible waiting for me. My ecuapadres were there, with all their children, and their children's spouse, their grandson, and a friend of the family who I have come to know very well. We all ate a delicious meal, I had a glass of whiskey with my ecuapadre, and we ate a delicious cake.

Overall, it was a great weekend, and it was a great birthday. It was weird not to celebrate it with any of my friends or family from the United States, and it was strange to celebrate it entirely with people who I had only met two months ago, because though I had only met them two months ago, I felt like I knew them all so well, both the Ecuadorians and the Americans in my program.

And my birthday was significant for another reason. It marked two months since we had arrived in Ecuador. Two months of the adventure over. It was a wake up call that the time is passing faster than I could possibly imagine. It is interesting to look over how I have changed in grown in just two months of living in Quito. I wonder where I will be at the end of my time here.

Canoa

All I can say is the weekend was extreme. It was another beach weekend, but while the last beach weekend was quiet, low-key and relaxing, this one was really none of those things.

Fourteen of us met at a terminal in Quito at about 10:30 on thursday night to hop on a night bus to a little town called Canoa. Like most bus rides at night. It was not very comfortable. It was dark, someone brought a baby that cried occasionally, the driver played music and sang along to it, and blasted the A/C to an uncomfortably cold temperature. I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep, though I did doze a little between the hours of 5 and 6 in the morning. But overall, not fun.

We arrived at a little town called Bahia, where we got off the bus, and walked with our bags to a river, where we paid thirty cents a piece to pile into a canoe and go across the river. There we got off at a town called San Vicente, where we got on another bus that took us into Canoa. Finally, we got off in Canoa and walked down the road until we found our hostel. It was a very pretty place, with a two stories and an attic, hammocks, an open-air kitchen, an a variety of wooden tables and chairs in an open air, large grass covered hut. We were only a thirty second walk from the beach. We were incredibly hungry from the bus ride, so after asking permission, I hopped in the kitchen and whipped up some pancakes. Finally, after eating and cleaning up, we headed to the beach.

We spent the day generally just hanging out. Two guys rented surf board, one experienced, one not so much, and hit the waves. We all swam, or sat out on the beach, or laid out, or read. It was very relaxing. Everyone had brought a variety of snacks and sandwich foods, so we ate lunch at our leisure. At about midday, three of the guys and I decided we would take a walk down the beach. We had heard about some caves you could walk to, and we decided to try to find them. Our walk brought us to an outcropping of rocks, which we climbed over, and then to a hill, which we scaled, despite the lack of a path, and then to another beach with a seemingly abandoned house on it. We walked to the end of the beach and climbed another outcropping of rocks. Crabs scurried away as we approached, and we laboriously searched for handholds and footholds on the otherwise smooth surface of the slanted rock wall. The surf was strong, and we had to keep ourselves on the leeward side of the large rock that jutted into the ocean, so as not to be knocked off by the spray. We could not find the caves anywhere, but there was another rock jutting up out of the water only a few yards away. We debated trying to climb it. The problem was, the waves were strong. We didn't want to be slammed up against any rocks, or swept off the big rock as we were climbing it. We made our way back into the water and swam around the large rock, looking for a way up. Finally, one of us, Paul, decided to try. We watched for waves, and yelled to him when he was clear so that he could begin his ascent. Once he was up, we all followed one at a time.

Unfortunately, the top was not as safe as we had hoped. We all found a perch to hold onto, and generally we were safe from the water, but occasionally a wave would slam against our rock, be forced upward, and hit us square in the faces. Realizing we were not entirely safe from being swept off the rock to a 3 meter drop into a rocky sea, we waited for a respite from the waves, and made our way down. Exhausted, we swam back to shore and made our way back to the hostel. The whole excursion had taken about four hours, and we were exhausted and hungry.

Our friend Eric had been making spaghetti and some of his excellent sauce, so when we got back, we all sat down to eat. It was a great meal, and not just because I was famished. That night we all went down to a bar, where I got a piña colada, and two milkshakes, and then went back to the hostel. Some people went out again, but I was exhausted, so I went to bed. The room was hot, and I was sweating. The bed was hard, and sandy, as I was. I had some remains of sunscreen on my body. But I didn't care about any of it. I dropped right off to sleep.

The next day some other people made pancakes, but I walked into town and got some delicious stuffed bread for breakfast. Afterwards, we made our way back to the hostel to see how everyone was doing. We all were sitting around, enjoying ourselves, when all of sudden everyone starting receiving warning text messages. There had been an earthquake in Chile and the whole South American coast was under tsunami watch. At first we blew it off, but the texts kept coming. People began to receive calls from friends in Quito, ecuapadres, and even their real parents about the danger. We became concerned. What should we do, we were right on the coast? It was about ten in the morning and there was a bus that left at noon that we could try to catch. We weren't sure. So, we asked around, and all the locals that we talked to told us not to worry, we were not in any danger. Our program director, after initially recommending we return, retracted and said we were safe for now. We were torn. Finally, four girls decided to leave for Quito that day. But the rest of us stayed and decided to ride it out.

At about midday I went for a walk with the same three guys from the day before, David, Tyler, and Paul. We took a long walk down the beach until we reached a little collection of buildings. We were tired, hot, and did not want to walk back. So we hiked up to the road and flagged down a bus to take us back to Canoa. That afternoon, we took a nap at the hostel, falling asleep in hammocks and chairs, to wait out the hottest part of the day.

When we woke up, we took up what had been our original plan the day before: to find the caves. But this time, we decided to take a different tact. We walked down to a place called the Surf Shack and rented two kayaks to take out into the ocean. So we dragged them out to the ocean to depart. The kayaks were two seaters: I was paired with Tyler, and David and Paul were in the other. Getting out to sea turned out to be a bit of a challenge. Tyler and I came prepared with water bottles, and I with my sunglasses. We hopped up onto the kayak and began heading out to sea. But pretty soon, we got hit with a wave, and we were flipped over. The wave took the kayak back, I lost my water bottle, and almost lost my sunglasses. David and Paul had had more success and were further out. Tyler and I grabbed the kayak, dragged it back, and hopped back on. We fought our way out to see, taking many waves head on. Our friends were watching us, but as they were, a wave came. They were unfortunately facing sideways. When they saw it, they frantically tried to paddle out of the way, but it took them and capsized their kayak as well. Tyler and I faced it head on and made it through, and finally paddled out to calmer waters, where we waited for Paul and David to catch up. The four of us began to kayak in the direction of where we thought the caves were.

We finally saw them up ahead. There were two groups of two. Tyler and I were further ahead, so we led the way, with Paul and David behind. We approached carefully. The waves were strong, and they smashed against the rock walls with great force. We didn't want to be smashed up with them. We angled for one cave, but decided that it was too hard, and quickly turned to go into another. Let me try to explain how this went. The cave we angled for did not directly receive the waves. It was built into a rock wall that jutted out, and so water from the waves flowed sideways into the cave. We waited for a wave to pass, and then paddled furiously in. Very soon, we began to see some of the dangers. When the water rose, it looked like smooth sailing. But when it dipped, a number of rocks poked out from the water. The cave also did not have any place to get out and stand, as we saw. But we had no choice, we were committed. We paddled into the cave. We did not have much control. We struggled just to keep the kayak pointed forward. If it wasn't, we would surely tip over, and that could mean losing the kayak, or worse. The cave narrowed as it went forward, until it ended in a little opening that we were not even sure the kayak would fit through. Beyond that opening all we could see was sunlight, more rocks, and more furious waves. Our options were very poor. A wave began to draw the water out of the cave. We paddled furiously just keep from being sucked away. But next came the wave, and we were thrust deeper into the cave. Somehow we kept the kayak in somewhat of a straight line, despite the rocks dotting the waterway and the rock walls closing in on us on each side.

We could hear Paul and David entering the cave behind us. The water began to suck back again as another wave took form. We were not pointed towards the opening of the exit, and if we didn't get through, Paul and David would smash into us, and we would probably tip over. We tried to right ourselves, but we couldn't in time. The wave enveloped us, knocking us off the kayak. From what I remember, I went tumbling through the water. I hit a couple of rocks as I did, which was not comfortable. I gasped, which was also not comfortable as I swallowed a mouthful of salt water. My feet found the ground and I launched myself up--only to hit something solid. My heart skipped a beat, and I was gripped by real fear. Now we all know what fear feels like, if you're walking alone at night or watching a scary movie, but this was real fear, in which for a split second my brain made real the possibility of death. It was only a brief thought, a small voice in the back of my head that was masked by both a will to survive and a feeling of disbelief. But I needed air, and something stood between me and it. I felt what it was that I was touching and realized it was the kayak. I pushed hard and found air. I gasped, only to be knocked down by another furious wave. But this time I had air in my lungs. I waited it out, and my feet found ground once again. I stood, opened my eyes, saw a beach in front of me, and sprinted for it. Another wave washed over me, but it only went waist high as I reached the safety of the beach.

I was safe. But my friends weren't. I turned to see the kayak on my side of the cave exit, but Tyler on the other side. After our first wipeout, Tyler had attached the kayak to his ankle as one would a surfboard. He was in even more danger. I saw him, and then a wave swept over him. When it receded, I couldn't see him. I yelled for him and plunged back into the water, and saw him surface briefly, take a breath, and get dragged back into the water. I tried to go in after him, but the wave swept me back to shore. I jumped up again and tried once more, to see him emerge from the water, freed from the kayak, breaking for the shore. We both stood there and waited for the kayak and oars to wash up. We grabbed them and quickly dragged them to shore.

Next came Paul and David. They were still in their kayak on the other side of the cave exit. A wave washed them through and they managed to stay on, but another wave knocked them off and swept them, their kayak, and their oars to shore. We gave them a hand and got everything to shore. We all stopped for a moment catching our breaths and looking at each other. And then, we burst out in a round of swearing and laughing as we gave each high fives for doing something so incredibly dangerous and surviving.

We looked around at where we were. We had reached a little secluded beach, which was walled in on both sides by a rock walls that jutted into the ocean. We were safe, but we quickly realized that to get out, we'd have to fight our way out on the kayaks. After resting, we grabbed our kayaks and got ready. Getting out was difficult. The waves were very strong. Paul and David jumped on their kayak immediately and tried to paddle out, but were swept off it and back to shore. Tyler and I took a different tact. We waded into the water with our kayak, and walked it out. We braced ourselves for each wave, and when we could no longer stand, we kicked. When we were out, we waited for a respite. We took a wave full in the face, and as soon as we had recovered we scrambled into the kayak, grabbed the oars, and paddled as fast and furiously as we could out towards the open ocean. We barreled through a few more waves, and finally reached the safety of the sea. We waited for the others to get out, and contemplated what to do.

There were some other caves to explore, but we had no desire to go in with the kayaks after that experience. Instead, we found a different beach to kayak to, and left the boats there. From the beach, we walked/swam through the water, braving the waves and the rocks, to get into the closest cave we could. This one had a back to it, and a solid hill of earth that had no water. As we found upon entering the cave was filled with bats flying all over the ceiling. We stood their, looking out and watching the sun set. Once it began to descend, we made our way back to the beach to get the kayaks. Fighting our way out was hard, but we were veterans at this point. We made it back into the sea. At this point the sun was gone and the remaining light was fading fast. We began to paddle out, but got separated quickly from the other two. We made for the lights on the shore, but very soon found ourselves experiencing some strong waves. The problem we had not considered was, the tide had gone out, and the waves were breaking further out than we had expected. We were swept off our kayak by a powerful wave, and in the blast, I let go of my oar. When I surfaced I looked around, but in the dark I couldn't find it anywhere. And we were quickly swept further inland by another wave. We decided just to go to shore and drag the kayak through the surf back to the Surf Shack. It would be easier.

We walked down the beach in the dark with one oar, dragging the boat, until we reached the Surf Shack. We dragged the kayak up, to find Paul and David there having just returned their kayak. We brought it in and were greeted by an American named Pete, who apparently owned it. Apparently a year and a half ago, Pete and his wife honeymooned in Canoa, Ecuador. When they were there, he saw the Surf Shack was for sale. So he bought it. He and his wife returned to the US, sold everything, and moved back to Ecuador to run the Surf Shack. He was very nice and incredibly chill. We told him about the oar, and he said with the kind it was I would have to pay $100. He apologized, even though I was the one who lost his oar, and said he understood that I didn't have the money at the moment. We exchanged information and he said that if it didn't wash up onto shore within two days he'd email me his bank account number. I could just go to the bank and deposit the money into his account in Quito. I thanked him, apologized, and returned.

I was thoroughly disappointed that I was about to be out $100, but the excursion was so much it didn't bother me too much. The oar was not all we lost. I lost my sunglasses, and Tyler and Paul both lost their hats. We met up with our friends and went out to eat dinner and explore the town a little. After a meal of sea food, we returned to the hostel to eat a dessert that Tyler made. It was basically chocolate and peanut butter on a tortilla. It was delicious. A bunch of people decided to walk down to a bar that was in the shape of a ship, but I wanted to take a walk on the beach instead. It was a nice night, and a small part of me wanted to find the oar, even though I knew realistically I wouldn't. On my way, Tyler and my friend Pam came down to the beach, and so we walked together. Pam continued to comment on how eerie the night was, and was very eager to know the source of every sound. Noting her unease, I devised a plan. At one point we began to walk quietly over the beach. I waited, and then suddenly jumped into the air, yelling "What the f***?! What the f*** was that?!" Pam screamed, and Tyler and I burst out laughing. She was not happy. She chased me around and around Tyler as he just stood their and laughed. I couldn't laugh and run, so I chose the former, and let her hit me. I probably deserved it. We walked further, and began talking about the oar that I lost. We were far out, so if we were going to find it, it was going to be now. I looked out further and thought I saw it there. I veered away from the other two and trotted up, to find I was looking at some white rocks. My heart sank. I turned to trudge back, as the fact sunk in, I wouldn't find it, and I would have to pay $100 for the oar.

But then, all of sudden, I heard Tyler yell, "Motherf***er there it is!" He and Pam began to shout excitedly, and I raced forward to see the oar lying there in the sand. I grabbed it happily and triumphantly. I was so glad! We raced back to show the others we had found it, and then went back to the Surf Shack. I returned the oar to Peter, happy that I wouldn't have to pay him any money.

The night was overall very good. We just relaxed as people went to sleep one by one. We had to be up the next day early to catch an eight o'clock bus, but everyone wanted to sleep through the eight hour bus ride, so they didn't mind staying up late. All in all, it was a great weekend. Extreme was the word that was used to describe it. With tsunami warnings, caves, and kayaking adventures, we all felt like we had braved danger and survived. Overall, it was an incredibly successful trip to one of the most beautiful places in Ecuador.

Low-key weekend

The weekend was in general low-key, especially compared to my travel-full other weekends. But I have spent a lot of money lately, and I spoke a lot of english in the Amazon, so I decided to stay home, speak spanish, and save my money. The first thing I had to deal with was my cell phone. I bought a cell phone when I got here, because we're required to have a cell phone, and to use my American plan here would cost a fortune. So, at the beginning of January, I got the cheapest phone I could find. Well the other day the microphone on it broke. When I spoke to someone I could hear them, but they couldn't hear me. So, I went down to the store to ask for it to be repaired. The guy was glad to repair my phone, and was also glad to tell me that because of two little nicks at the top of the phone I would have to pay for the repair. Since the phone showed slight wear and tear the microphone (which is located at the bottom of the phone) was somehow my fault. So I'll have to pay sixteen dollars for the repair. He gave me the sim card, and I asked if it could be rigged to work in my American phone. Of course it could, I learned, but I'd have to travel across Quito and pay twenty dollars. No thanks. I borrowed a phone from my ecuapadre and put my sim card in that one. I actually like the one I'm borrowing more than the one that I have. But I'll get mine back on Thursday.

After that, I hung out at home. I wrote an essay for my spanish class, and I started a book. I was in the middle of reading The Fellowship of the Ring in spanish, and I will probably return to it at some point, but I wanted to try my hand at a book that was not a translation, but an original, with a story I didn't already know, to see if I could understand it. So I picked up El Zahir by Paulo Coehlo (author of The Alchemist), and gave it a start. The story itself is okay. But I am very pleased with how easy it is to read and understand. My reading is advancing quickly, and I am definitely speaking better as well. Understanding natives when they speak continues to be my biggest challenge.

My ecuasobrino (in spanish sobrino means nephew) spent a lot of time at our house this weekend, and whenever he's over he always begs me to play with him. We played many games of soccer on playstation, which was a good time. At one point I was reading in my room and he came in and started to ask me to play with him. I didn't particularly feel like playing, and he loves it when I show him movies on my laptop. I have a couple of music videos, videos I've taken with my camera, and youtube videos saved on it, so occasionally I'll show them to him. I've pretty much run out of videos though, so I decided I'd put in my DVD of Spirited Away and show him the trailer. After the trailer, he told me he wanted to watch the movie. I decided to put it in because I figured he'd get bored with it. The movie is in Japanese, although there is an English dub option, but there is neither a spanish dub nor spanish subtitle option, and spanish is all he speaks, so I figured once he was lost he would get bored and leave. Not so. First, he quite enjoyed the movie, despite it being a very strange film to occidental eyes, and constantly asked me to tell him what people were saying and what they were doing. It was interesting translating the story as I read it in english into spanish, which had been translated itself from Japanese. Moreover, he insisted that the movie be in the original Japanese, not in English. I didn't understand why, but I suppose he, like me, finds the Japanese language appealing to listen to. I don't know, he never told me, and I didn't ask the five year old about his language preferences. But he was very engaged, and was eager to finish the movie.

Then on Saturday night, I decided I would go out, since I had been in (and bored) all weekend. It was my friend's birthday, and he had a whole night planned, so I decided to attend. First, we all met at his house where we ate a bunch of snacks, and an ice cream cake that he had made himself. It was delicious. Afterwards, we went to a place that he has wanted to go to since he arrived in Quito: a wine and tapas bar in the city. So we went. The price was a little steep, the cheapest option was about seventeen dollars, which was really twenty after taxes and gratuity. But it was totally worth it, mainly because it was all you could eat and drink for the single price. The waiters brought out an endless supply of food: bread with salsa, shrimp, quiches, vegetables, sausage, cheese, and more. And when you finished your glass of wine, they refilled it. I started with red wine, but switched to white halfway through the night, which I enjoyed more. And once we got there, we added one more thing to the spread. One glass into the night and we began talking politics. Someone brought up something political, and it was off. We discussed everything: U.S. foreign policy, Latin American policy, energy policy, immigration policy, gay marriage, abortion, the national debt, monetary policy, the U.S. military, healthcare. Two glasses in, someone challenged the actual contribution that President Kennedy made to the country. Being a stalwart defender of the legacy of President Kennedy, I answered every challenge voiced. The political discussion didn't end until we all decided to go home. All in all, it was a very fun night, and definitely worth the twenty dollars.

And herein lies the great thing about studying abroad. Usually after a fun Saturday night with friends, we find ourselves sighing and muttering "Well, back to reality." But for me, back to reality means back to enjoying living in a foreign country, and it's a reality I have no problem returning to.

The Amazon

Here in Ecuador, and in all of Latin America, there is a holiday called Carneval that we do not celebrate in the U.S., but is celebrated here with gusto. The holiday comes with two days off from school, and so, our program used the long weekend as an opportunity to organize a trip to the Amazon. Everyone in our program went. I can't do the trip justice. From the outset, I need to lay that out. The photographs I took could bring me closer, but really the Amazon is just one of those things you have to see for yourself to fully absorb. The sight of trees, the sound of birds, the smell of rain. But I'll do my best.

On Saturday we all met at the IES center at 7am to depart. We stood outside the building, bags in hand, eyelids drooping sleepily, until the bus pulled up. We loaded up, and began departed Quito. Most of us dropped off to sleep on the way. The ride there, like all rides through Ecuador, was breathtakingly beautiful, but I've largely grown used to rolling hills, pastures, grazing animals, mountains and little pueblos that characterizes every trip. It's a part of the countryside here. We stopped on our way at a small water park, where we changed outside (that was an interesting and tricky experience) into bathing suits. We were met by a guide who clearly had once been military. He had the buzz cut, the bulging muscles, a snake tattoo on his shoulder, and walked everywhere barefoot without a second thought. We were about to explore some caverns nearby, that delved deep into the earth, and he was our guide. He led us forward, and we walked through a field until we began to descend into a gaping dark hole in the ground.

The caves were small in some parts, and large in others. Sometimes it was dry, other times we were wading waste deep through the water. At one point, we had to swim. We went up and down, through tunnels, and at one point, the guide had us all turn off our lights, and he talked to us about the history of the caverns in a complete darkness. When we finally were finished, we enjoyed a delicious lunch, boarded the bus, and continued on our way.

We made a second stop later, and went on a hike through the forest. At this point we were in the Amazon, and it was humid. But humid is an understatement. Houston is humid, and Houston doesn't hold a candle to the Amazon in terms of humidity. It was very very hot. We trekked tiredly forward, but when we reached our destination, it all was worth it. We had reached a large, beautiful waterfall. Hot and sweaty, we all plunged excitedly into the water, and like insects, began scurrying up the waterfall edge. There we stood dotting to side of the rockwall, and one by one we leapt off back into the pool beneath. The water was cool and fresh and felt perfect in the heat. When we finally hiked back, we did so still tired, but refreshed and content.

We finally rolled into our destination for the day, a small town in the Amazon called Misahualli, at about dinner time. We pulled up to the inn we were staying at, divvied up the rooms, and then met back at the restaurant for dinner. The rooms were hot, and the sheets, like all things in the Amazon, were at their driest still a little damp. It ran on solar energy, so at sundown we lost power, we were sweaty, there was no air conditioning, and the water pressure in the shower was spotty. But we were all so tired, we slept soundly and deeply despite it all.

The next morning I got up especially early to trek into Misahualli. And there, I encountered something quite strange. During the day, the city is full of monkeys, who come into town to eat from the humans' scraps and refuse. It was incredible to see them running around the street. I continued down to the river to see the sunrise. Everyone in the city was already up and already working. When I got back, everyone else we up. We ate breakfast, packed, and then donned thick, rubber rain boots that we had rented to prepare for the next leg of the journey. We were going deeper into the Amazon, and we would have to go by boat.

But they weren't really boats exactly, they were narrow canoes that had motors on the backs. We loaded our bags into them, and, accompanied by some new guides, boarded the canoes and took off down the river. The boat ride down the river was incredible. The view was so beautiful everywhere that it was overwhelming. We travelled via boat for a significant stretch down the river, until we finally reached what appeared to be a random piece of beach. We looked around confused, but soon realized a little ways off on the forest's edge was a path. We unloaded the bags and carried them forward down a path into the forest. Soon, we encountered the cabanas we were staying in. We had two of them. One was filled with girls. The other had two rooms, one of which the guys claimed, and the other of which had the rest of the girls. This cabana was raised off the ground, and had about six hammocks below it that we took full advantage of. If the inn in Misahualli was low-tech, this was even lower. Forget air conditioning completely. Despite the fact that we were sweating buckets and there was no point at which it got cool, even in the middle of the night, air conditioning was unheard of. The lights and water pressure were spotty, and we shared the cabanas with our fare share of insects (and the occasional large spider). The beds were hard, as were the pillows, and perpetually moist. But it was incredible.

After we ate, we got back into the canoes, and went further down the river, where we got off, and travelled through the woods to an indigenous home, where a family lived. We were in the middle of an indigenous community, but the homes were all so spread out that we only saw one. The family was one that opened its home to tourists (and we guessed received compensation for it). The man of the house was also the shaman of the village (though is this day and age the role had clearly taken on a purely ceremonial one). The house was incredible. It was raised off the ground, and was a single room. There were windows, in the sense that the wall did not reach the room. It was made of wood, the roof of large Amazonian leaves. There were shelves in which the family stored things, and a large square fire pit in the center of the home that perpetually sent smoke up, protecting the organic roof by keeping hungry bugs away, and forming a layer of ash that gave it further support. The family was huge. There were at least five children, and a baby. The parents lived in the house, along with the grandparents, and the children's uncle. There were no beds, no cots, no pallets. They slept on the floor, probably on a sheet, but on the wooden floor. Only the baby had a little hammock to sleep in. The poverty, the simplicity, the difference in lifestyle was absolutely incredible. I spoke with the shaman's son, and he said there was a market that was open every friday that they traded at, and every three months a priest would show up to say mass. The next scheduled mass was in May.

We returned to the cabanas, ate, and retired for the evening. We had another great night sleep, and the many bug bites that we had received (and continued to receive in our sleep) did not wake us. At one point I woke to the deafening sound of rain, and was awake long enough to note the weather before I dropped back off to sleep.

The next morning, we ate breakfast, donned our boots again, and set off for a hike through the Amazon. What we took was a path in a the loosest sense of the word, but really it was more like areas that we could step because they weren't overgrown by vegetation. We saw some incredible things. Aside from the towering trees and primitive vegetation, there were dozens of lines of ants carrying pieces of leaves around the jungle. We ate lemon flavored ants at one point. We saw tree sap that looked like blood and worked like moisturizer on the skin. We saw a poisonous frog. We saw blue birds eggs. We saw many things. After many hours, we returned to the cabanas.

After lunch began the construction project. The owners of the cabanas had a variety of large pieces of wood sitting in a little hut on the trail to the river. We carried this wood piece by piece to the river, and once there, divided into two teams, and built two rafts. I say we, but I really mean the Ecuadorian guides, who did most of the work while we did a little helping and a lot of trash talking each other. Finally the rafts were complete, and we set sail. Each raft was equipped with two bamboo poles for steering, and one oar. One of our bamboo poles broke, and our rivals began to pull ahead. So, naturally, we dove into the water, and began to accost their raft. They returned the favor. Pretty soon there was a traffic of swimmers between the two boats trying to best one another. Finally, we stole their oar and one of their bamboo poles, and with those in hand, began to pull ahead of our rivals. We reveled in our victory, and sailed down the river, singing various Disney songs in chorus as we sailed through the Amazon. When we reached the shore, we disassembled the rafts, and loaded the wood into the canoes, which had followed us. There was no room for me in the canoe with the wood where it was, so I volunteered to move to the front of the canoe and sit on the nose of it. The canoe rides were always great, but sitting there, with the river spraying up on me, surrounded by the Amazon, with the sun setting ahead of me, was one of the greatest experiences of my life.

After returning and putting the wood away, we went for a swim to wash off some of the copious amounts of mud. I returned to the cabana and took my first shower since I had left Quito, and we went to dinner. Afterwards, we spent the night relaxing and talking about various things while it rained off and on. We had to do everything by candlelight, because there was no electricity with the sun gone.

The next morning, we packed up, ate, and headed out. We got on the canoes for one of our last times and headed out. We made a stop at a nature preserve, where we looked at the animals and ate lunch, and from there we continued on to Quito, leaving the Amazon behind.

This definitely isn't everything that happened, and it definitely does not capture the majesty of the jungle. But one thing was for sure, we all knew in that weekend that we had chosen to study abroad in the right place. We are all different, but almost everyone shares a version of the same story from the United States: the story of when we announced our intentions to study abroad in Ecuador, only to receive that confused question, "Why would you want to go to Ecuador? Why wouldn't you go to Spain?" Spain, and all of Europe, is no doubt incredible. But after spending the weekend in the Amazon, almost everyone said that they had definitely made the right choice. Those that didn't say so, already knew they had.

Superbowl

Last night was incredible. My friends and I had been for the longest time trying to figure out what we were going to do for the Superbowl. One of my friends suggested the U.S. embassy, where they were apparently having a watching party on a big screen. So we went. I had never been to the embassy before, so I didn't know where it was or what it looked like. As my taxi began to slow, I began looking around for the embassy, and all of sudden, my eyes caught sight a huge American flag flying high above the compound. I felt so proud to see that flag, and I realized I had not seen it in over a month. It was an incredible feeling. I got out and met up with my friends, and we made our way through security. The security guards were Ecuadorians. But as we were showing our things, an American marine showed up to escort us through the compound. Walking through it was like being back in the United States. It was a beautiful embassy. We finally reached the Marine house where the party was, and inside was like a little piece of home. There was a bar where one marine was selling alcohol and pizza. American children ran around playing with each other while the American men, beers in hand, and the American women conversed about life. Some of the faces I recognized, some of them I didn't, but all were American. We all spoke english, and when Carey Underwood started the National Anthem, we all stood and put our hands to our hearts. I always knew I loved my country, but I never realized how much I loved it, or how much it was a part of who I was, until I left it.

The game itself was spectacular. There were more Saints fans than Colts fans, but still the room was fairly evenly divided. There was a variety of snacks and chips and salsa that people ate, and the men would yell at the television when something good or bad happened, as they do in the United States. The commercials we received were those specially made for U.S. soldiers abroad, which meant there were a lot of football players thanking us for our service to our country, a lot of Robert Gates talking about something, and a lot of Barack Obama talking about something. But someone had rigged another television to play the American commercials. So whenever the commercials were on, a girl would switch from one TV to the other, and we would all watch the commercials.

The Colts fans had very high morale at first, but after half time, the Saints began to comeback. After that incredible interception and touchdown, the Saints fans were on their feet, and there was no going back. All in all, it was incredible game, and an incredible time. It was like a brief return to the United States, and a welcome one at that. I love Ecuador. It is a beautiful country, and in some ways it outshines the United States. But nothing can replace the Red, White, and Blue in my heart. Nothing. God Bless the United States of America.