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.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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.
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.
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