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.

Much ado about politics and economics

Okay, so this is a post I've been meaning to write for awhile. Let me warn you: this post deals with the political and economic nature of Ecuador. After seeing many people's eyes glaze over at this subject in the past, I feel it's only fair to warn you upfront. Okay, here goes...

Economically, Ecuador has a lot of problems. The country is rife with poverty and crime, beggars in the streets, and doctors driving cabs. To explain how Ecuador reached this state would require information regarding its history that I do not know, and would probably require a study reaching as far back as it's colonization by the Spanish. But I can give an account as to how this economic state is maintained in the present, and what the country could do to improve itself.

The very first thing the government needs is a major crackdown on all crime. Counterfeiting and robbery are such huge problems, that vendors don't accept anything bigger than a twenty, and people carry as little money with them as possible. This is stunts Ecuador's economic growth severely because if people aren't spending money, the money is not circulating, business is bad, and the people remain poor. If people feel safe spending their money, and vendors and banks feel safe accepting it, it would work wonders for the country.

The second thing the government needs to do is cut out its oil subsidies. The country subsidizes gasoline, but while this is popular, it is a horrible policy. To begin, traffic and pollution are a problem here. Cutting the subsidy and letting the price of gas rise would cut back on traffic. A portion of those subsidies could be diverted to the bus companies, to maintain their low prices, and the legitimate cab drivers. Ecuador has a problem with false cab drivers who aren't registered, and they wouldn't be able to compete if they were competing against legitimate, and subsidized, cabs. This would make cabs safer as well. Here's the thing, Quito's streets are already brimming with buses and cabs, and a cut in the subsidy would drive more people to public transportation. The city simply doesn't have room for more buses and cabs. What Quito at least (and probably the other cities) needs is an underground subway system to transport people all over the city and keep space freer on the surface. This would be a massive government undertaking and would require it to assume large amounts of debt. Some of it could be financed with diverted oil subsidies, and a cut in the country's many social welfare programs, which really don't contribute to growth either. The project would instead create hundreds of new jobs for the Ecuadorian people, which is exactly what they need.

This project would give them the opportunity to change their public transportation to electric-power, rather than gas-power. By using the hydropower and solar power that the country has available to it, it could wean itself off of oil. That is good for the country because oil is its absolutely most precious resource. Its economy is built on the exportation of oil to other countries. There is no reason it should be consuming its own oil so copiously, especially when it does not have Saudi-level reserves. This is the lesson Ecuador needs to learn from the world. The United States continues to stubbornly refuse to diversify its energy profile. Growing demand in India and China, who are also foolishly building their economies on oil, will drive the price of oil up. This will be murderous to a government that subsidizes oil, but is an opportunity for economic prosperity for an oil-exporting country like Ecuador.

And finally, Ecuador needs to improve its trade relationship with the United States. Because of differing ideology, this Socialist government has raised import taxes so high that the U.S. is trading very little with Ecuador. If the U.S. is foolish for thinking that trade embargoes will affect Cuba, North Korea, or Iran, Ecuador is ten times as foolish for thinking that robbing the United States of trade will change U.S. policies one little bit. I suspect, though can't be certain, that cutting the import taxes would have a laffer curve effect, and the government would fill its coffers with increased U.S. trade. Moreover it would bring jobs to Ecuador and allow some U.S. wealth to flow into this country.

Further study would yield more, I'm sure, but these are preliminary observations I have made in the month I have been here. They seem obvious, but as in the U.S., and all countries, the politics is getting in the way of the economics.

Speaking a second language

Yesterday marked four weeks in Ecuador. Four weeks in, my knowledge of the spanish language is growing, and almost as fast as my frustration with learning it. But the experience has been eye-opening, and I have realized how much I take for granted when I speak in english. When you speak to someone in whatever language, you have concepts and ideas in your mind, and through the use of verbal sounds, communicate those to another. So when you are standing there, facing someone, and you want to get an idea across, you speak it, much like when you want to get from point A to point B, you walk there. At one point in your life that walk would have been a struggle, but those days are long go and walking from point A to point B is something done almost without thought.

But having a conversation in a language you are in the process of learning is more like climbing a rock wall than walking down a sidewalk. You're facing someone who speaks a completely different language, and you have to try to get an idea across. Like the rock wall, you can think forward a few words, but you can't pre-plan everything you will say, just as you can't evaluate your ascent up the wall completely before you even begin. So you begin to climb. The first few footholds you thought of before you started, but you have to find the rocks now as you go. If you are experienced with rock walls, finding footholds and handholds is easy. Likewise if you have been speaking your second language for some time, many of the words will flow, not as easily as your first language, but still easily. But then, there comes a point where your hand does not have an obvious rock to grab. You are at a precipice in your sentence, and in your climb, and you are searching for some word that can move you forward. Sometimes you find that word, just as you find the right rock. Sometimes, you have grab a word, even if you're not sure, and quickly move on, as you might have to do with a small and inconveniently placed rock. Sometimes, you need to back up and try from a different angle. Nevertheless, when you get to the top of the wall, or when you reach the end of your sentence and the other person smiles and nods in understanding, you have a real appreciation for what you just did. And next time, it's just a little bit easier.

English, Spanish, and Soccer

Ecuador continues to be great, and I've started to make friendships outside of the IES group of Americans. At my salsa class there is a guy named Adrian who I am friends with. He speaks some english and wants to learn more, I speak some spanish and want to learn more. We both want to learn how to dance the salsa. We got everything in common that we could possibly need! Anyway, last night after class I went with him to his soccer game. I met his soccer team, and watched the game with one of the other players' dad. Let me just take a moment to say that I found the Ecuadorian version of my father. This guy was very nice, had no problem talking to a strange foreigner, and when the game got started, he had no lack of things to shout. He shouted at people to pass the ball, to shoot the ball, for the ref to make better calls, and even shouted to the players to drink water during breaks. At half time he went down to where the team was sitting to talk to his son and the other players about how they should be improving their game. It was nice to see his face light up when his son scored a goal, and again when his son's team (my friend's team) won the game. They were at a real disadvantage because the other team had something like eight more players, so they switched them out more often and stayed fresher. But to no avail, Adrian's team won five to three.

It must be interesting for other people to hear the two of us talk. We both switch back and forth between english and spanish, and our conversations digress a lot as we correct each other's grammar, ask each other grammar questions, and ask for explanations of various grammar rules. Nevertheless, we manage to communicate.

My host mom asked me to teach her and one of their friends english as well, so I have begun to draw up the shadows of lesson plans. This is my first foray into the world of teaching, and it's going to be an interesting experience indeed.

The Beach

Another great weekend. We went to the beach in a little town called Same (pr. Sah-may). We took a bus there that left at 10:30 on thursday night. The trip was supposed to be about six hours, but there was an accident on the road, so from about 1am to 6am, we moved only a few miles. But we finally got there at about midday on Friday, and we discovered that we basically had the beach to ourselves. The beach was beautiful! We had two cabanas that the nine of us shared. We went swimming, and then found a beachside restaurant with the absolutely best seafood I have ever eaten. We had decided that for this trip, we would try to cook some of our meals. So, before we left, I bought a box of pancake mix. The kitchen is one of the cabanas basically didn't work. The other one had a gas stove, a pan, a pot, enough plates, silverware, and glasses for the nine of us, and a big flat wooden thing that we used as sort of a spatula, although that's definitely not what it was. At first the pancakes were deformed and a little burned, although everyone insisted that they still tasted really good, so we decided the best thing to do would simply be to scramble them. So we did, and for breakfast we had a big pile of scrambled pancakes, with bread and jam, and mimosas. It was a fantastic breakfast.

We spent the rest of the day beachside, and people snacked and made pb&j at their leisure for lunch. Some people took naps. Some people sunbathed. At one point I played chess (a special chess set that was Spanish conquistadors v. Indigenous tribe). For dinner, my friend Erick cooked spaghetti and a special spaghetti sauce that he had a special recipe for. We dragged the tables outside so that we had a view of the ocean, set the table, cut up pieces of bread, and put out three bottles of red wine. We were so proud of ourselves, and the sauce was definitely the best I have ever had, no exaggeration. That night, we took a bus to the nearby town of Atacames for some drinks (though I only got a milkshake). We would have danced as well, but we were all too sunburned.

Here's the thing about getting a sunburn here. You know how people say that you can get a sunburn if there is cloud cover, but it's never really true? Okay, at the equator, it's true. And when there's not cloud cover, you can literally feel the sun burning you. It's not a pleasant feeling.

The next day we got up early and got a bus back to Quito. Thankfully we ran into no accidents, and I made it back in time for evening mass. All in all, it was a good weekend. I tried some of the best food I've ever had. I got to see the famous beaches of Ecuador, and I visited a very culturally different part of Ecuador.