Making a List, Checking It Twice

I'm a list maker.  Always have been.  And I know that something big is coming when I'm up to my neck in lists, and when I'm actually crossing things off of them!  The end is coming... It feels weird.  I'm ready to come home.  Not in the sense that I'm homesick, just in the sense that this trip seems to have reached its natural conclusion, and at this point I want to come back and start telling all my stories!  At the same time, it's hard to leave something that has become your normal, day-to-day life, and there is a lot that I will miss.  Among the things I have yet to do are a couple last minute trips.

Yesterday I got back from Baños, a town tucked into the mountains right alongside the volcano Tungurahua.  Baños has 2 reputations: Extreme Sports (bridge jumping, rock climbing, rafting, etc.), and Tourist Party Town.  Neither of those really interest me.  But it's also supposed to be a pretty area, and it's at the base of a volcano that's currently starting to erupt, so I thought it could be interesting for a day.  I got on the bus at 4:15am because Luke and I were both going the same direction and figured we could keep each other company on the 7-hour ride.  Everything went smoothly and I stepped off into a rainstorm in the early afternoon.  I decided to stop for some food and found a cute and funky little place with a sweet owner who gave me all sorts of tips for what to do in the town and how to do it.  She also made a fruit salad with all natural ice cream and little colored tube cookies on top, so that certainly helped!  I walked up the hill to a hostel she had recommended, where I got a room and took a 3-hour nap.  In my defense, I had practically not slept the week before.  But yes, 3 hours was probably a bit excessive...

One of the "activities" the hotel offered, like most of the hotels in Baños, was a nighttime bus tour on a chiva, basically an open-air party bus.  I had mentally declined when the lady at reception mentioned it to me, but when I finally got up from my nap I decided to stop being antisocial and give it a try.  Worst case scenario, it would only last 2 hours.  I had 2 more hours to kill before the bus would leave, so I decided to go find some dinner.  Now, a little backstory: while watching a video about Ecuador last spring with my mom, who was pre-screening it for her class, I learned, to my horror and dismay, that they eat guinea pig!  I was disgusted.  But the more I got to thinking about it, the more I was intrigued as well.  After I had been here for awhile, I had reached the point where I sort of wanted to try it, just to say that I did.  However, they don't eat it in the coastal region; we didn't have a chance to find it in Riobamba; I was in a group and we were all sick in Cuenca; and there was even a place in Galapagos, but the 1 night it was open when I was on that island, I had been invited to tag along for dinner with some new friends!  So, this was just about my last chance.  

I asked the hotel lady if there was a place that served it, and she said yes!  But it was probably out by now; I could try earlier in the day tomorrow.  Another guy staying at the hotel was on his way into the center of town, so he offered to show me where it was, and we were surprised to see that there were about 1 1/2 of them on the grill! (just don't ask how I estimated "1 1/2.")  I ordered a portion - I wasn't ready for a whole one.  For one thing, I wasn't that hungry, and for another, I don't think I could have handled it mentally.  But I was game for a piece.  I think it was a back leg, served over rice and potato with a little salad.  So I tried it. And it was weird.  Not bad, though. Salty, very flavorful.  The texture of chicken, but really fatty and greasy like pork. And there's this extremely tough leathery skin that you have to attempt to remove without shooting clumps of rice across the table (something at which I failed).  It was also kind of funny explaining to this guy that yes, I'm technically a vegetarian, but it's out of preference more than anything else, so this was still okay and I wasn't going to be smited or anything.  But I'm proud of myself for trying it, and delighted at the horror and disgust of the people I've told about it.  (Comments are welcome below!)

I went back and hopped on the Chiva tour, which blasted club music as it drove us up into the mountains.  We went to a lookout point where you can see the volcano when it's not cloudy, but it was cloudy and drizzling.  Which also meant the bonfire was a no-go.  So instead, they had a duo perform a little comedy routine, which was rather funny.  And I was tickled that I understood so much of it!  We came back and I met up with the guy from the hotel, his girlfriend, and a group of her friends.  Later on, I met a group from California who said they were planning to go biking along the Ruta de Las Cascadas the next morning, which had been my plan, so they invited me along.  I figured it couldn't hurt.  Well, I woke up feeling the effects of the puro, which just doesn't agree with me, even in small amounts.  I was going to find them and say I'd probably run into them later on along the route, but then I decided to suck it up and go.  So I waited around for them... a little after 9:30 i told the hotel lady I was going to find some breakfast and to please relay the message if they appeared.  My "20 minute" breakfast that I'd promised the lady turned into almost an hour (I totally dig the Ecuadorian sense of time!  It's so relaxing, and she didn't think anything of it), and they still hadn't emerged.  So I decided it was for the best, and I'd go alone, like I'd wanted to originally.  On my way out the door, I ran into them again and they explained.  I felt like I was an extra in Dude, Where's My Car?! 2.  "You know our friend Travis, who we mentioned?" he started, in stereotypical California surferdude accent. "Well, we lost him last night..."  "What?!?!"  "Yeah, he never came back to the hotel.  But he does this sort of thing a lot... He probably just got lost and found another hotel. But, we sorta have to go find him, so I don't think we're biking today."  After the concern wore off, it was really kinda funny.  And Baños is a small enough place that I'm sure they found him.

I went about halfway through the entire route - it's long and tough at times - but it was enough.  It's mostly biking along the interstate, with a waterfall and a viewing point every few kilometers.  But it's gorgeous along the bike path, winding through teeny towns that lie alongside the busy road, gazing up into green, majestic mountains.  I was starting to feel pressed for time, though, so I headed back, returned the gear, and made my way to the bus station.  On the way, I stopped and picked up some gooey fruit stuff (I have to ask what fruit it is) that's like a brick of fruit leather and really tasty, and a bag full of pieces of sugarcane.  I especially like the sugarcane.  It's great toy food!  The pieces are 1-2 inches long, and you chew and suck on it to extract the sweet, fresh-tasting juice from the tough, fibrous stalk.  And on the loooooong ride back home, it was a good way to pass the time.

Today was my last Sunday Lunch with the family!  It was a smallish affair, but a very nice time.  They made a vegetarian Christmas dish in my honor - a pasta casserole with a stripe each of red, white, and green sauce (tomato, ricotta cheese, and pesto).  And this morning, Pilar showed me how to make her version of tres leches cake.  The way she makes it, it's more like Cinco Leches con Durazno cake!  It was AMAZING!!!  I'm looking forward to making it at home, so all of you can feel free to invite yourselves over!

Tomorrow, after a couple of errands and prep-type things, I'm headed to the coast to go to Machalilla National Park.  I found a quote that seems to sum up one of the recurring themes of this whole trip, and one which I hope to carry with me now that I've begun to learn it: “A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.”  It's the journey, not the destination, that we remember and that leaves its mark on us.  It's time we all learned to cherish it and ourselves as we navigate through it.

Deja tus Huellas

The New Years custom here is to purchase an Año Viejo - literally, "old year," which in this case is a big piñata thing with really hard sides.  They can be anywhere from the size of a regular piñata to the size of a house.  I kid you not.  They are usually in the form of cartoon characters or well-known and well-loathed public figures.  A family will buy one, stuff it with firecrackers, and then light it at midnight.  The symbolism is that the doll represents all of the bad things of the previous year, and by burning it you rid yourself of all of that and welcome in the new year.  In practice, it's an excuse to blow something up.  But it does seem like a big part of the celebration: one of the biggest parties on New Year's Eve is in Salinas, one of the beach towns, and at midnight the whole beach is lit up with fireworks.

A couple weeks ago we went on another trip with the program.  I use the term "we" very loosely here: Luke didn't feel well so he didn't come; Amanda slept late and missed our departure.  So it ended up being me, Daniela, Janett, Luis, and Teresita, the Korean nun.  This sounds like the set-up to a really good joke...  But it turned out to be a good group.  We went to Puerto El Morro, a teeny little town along the estuary where you can see dolphins!  Very cool.  We ate fresh seafood overlooking the place it had been mere hours before.  Then we pushed on to Playas, another beach town.  I went swimming while the others relaxed for a little bit.  We ate empanadas and then came back, exhausted but happy.

The empanadas were good, especially after Janett explained to me that the "monos" (people from the coastal region) like to sprinkle sugar on their cheese empanadas - that brightened things right up!  One of my food addictions that is going to be hard to break back in the States, since it should be a regular food item everywhere if you ask me, is Yogurt Persa.  They use a base of the tangy, fresh-tasting European-style yogurt, add fruit or honey if you want (I usually order it natural, with nuthin'), and then buzz it up in the blender for a minute or two to make it the consistency of a milkshake; it's dreamy!  The classic here is to serve it with pan de yuca, little puff balls of bread made from yuca (aka cassava aka manioc aka tapioca root) and parmesan cheese.  It is one of the best snacks I've ever had!  Maybe I'll just have to open up my own franchise in Woodstock...  One of the food items I will NOT miss is the pop.  Sure, there's Coke and Sprite and the typical American stuff.  But there are also a couple brands of violently yellow pop that taste like fizzy circus peanuts.  And while going out for pizza one night with our urban regeneration teacher, we discovered a classic Ecuadorian "apple" flavored soda.  It's so "classic" that you can't find it in the cities anymore, just in the smaller towns.  After trying it, I wasn't surprised: it tastes like damp, stale carpet.  So maybe I'm just not very open-minded when it comes to pop, but I'll just go ahead and skip those in the future.

The latest addition to the Ecuador Bucket List: city-wide transportation difficulties.  M.O.: broken bridge along the main road in the neighborhood of Urdesa.  Fortunately, it is still walkable, so I could get to school.  But it cuts off Urdesa from the rest of the city, so to get in or out by car you have to go all the way around through the next neighborhood.  For example, when bringing projects to school, I can ride in a taxi for about 5 minutes to get there.  Now, it takes at least 20.  Add this construction detour to the wild holiday traffic and it's gotten pretty tricky.

The last night of classes we went out for dinner with the teachers.  (Another example of the traffic situation: it took Luke and me almost 90 minutes to drop something off at his house, drop something off at my house, then go to the restaurant which would be a 10 minute walk.)  Great food!  I think all of us ordered menestra (bean stuff with rice and some type of meat or fish) except one teacher, who shared a huge plate of meat with her husband.  Then two of the teachers and Luke and I went on to a funky little bar/restaurant along the road that runs along the base of the hill that contains Las Peñas.  It was a riot trying to take a group picture, between the waiter not understanding how to focus the camera, the flash making us all look orange and shiny, and the sans-flash photos finding movement that I'm pretty sure wasn't there.  Even though Luke and I will still technically be around for another week, it was a nice official close to the program.  Earlier that day, Janett had come up to us and explained that of course they will miss us, but we had truly left footprints on the program and with them.  She was deeply touched by us and the semester we spent there.  My cynical side was thinking that she could easily say that to all of her students, but it was so sincere and so spur-of-the-moment that I really do believe her.  I know that we've all been affected as well.  None of us had the earth-shattering, personal awakening, soul-finding experience that some study abroad students seek or find, but I'm convinced we've all started a process of change and personal growth that will profoundly affect us into the future.  There's a quote I've grown to love that explains that traveling is not about discovering a new place, but about discovering yourself within that place.  The inner process is much deeper and much more lasting than any outer process.  And for better and for worse, this been an Experience.  That's the best word I can think of to sum it up, and that's the most any of us could have asked out of the program.

The Beginning of the End

Phew!  I apologize that it's been so long since an update.  This cycle of classes was fun and there was lots to do, but there was LOTS to do.  I had exponentially more homework, and I really felt the loss of time.   We also squeezed in 2-3 tests and projects for every class in the last week, following the delayed midterm projects and tests from the week before... eesh.

Urban Regeneration was pretty fun - every class, we went somewhere on a little mini-trip.  Sometimes it would be to an area with a little park and a view of the river or the estuary, other times to a more urban or culturally-oriented place.  A couple weeks ago we went on a 'tour' of the south of the city.  There are some decent areas that just have shaky reputations because they're in the south, but there are also areas that are among the poorest in the city.  On the far side, right along the river, there are neighborhoods of houses made from sugarcane sticks with thatched roofs and no running water, where people live on welfare and whatever else they can find.  But in all honesty, the "south" of the city is one section, just like any of the others, that has a variety of levels of wealth.  For our final trip, we went to a place called Hogar de Cristo, which builds houses out of sugarcane to sell at very low prices to the poor.  It's really an interesting organization that seems to have done a lot of good for the city; and it was satisfying to visit a site that represents the social regeneration more than the urban regeneration.

We also went to the Mercado Caraguay, a huge market in a big warehouse where you can buy anything from fresh fruit and veggies, meat and fish, lentils and rice, to chicha and who knows what else.  By the time we got there (mid-afternoon) the fresh fish was practically sold out, except for a couple of whole albacore tuna as big as my dog.  The most interesting part was outside, where they sell fresh crabs.  Like, live crabs.  They're actually quite pretty - bright orange with purple.  They pack them like a jigsaw puzzle into a "brick" about 2 1/2 feet long by 1 1/2 feet wide and about 6 inches thick, all pure live crab.  The ones on the outside eerily wave any free leg or claw, and sporadically lift one or both eyes to scowl at the clientele (their eyes are on top of little stalks that fold down to the sides for easy stowage).  It was terrifying.

Last Tuesday evening we participated in the Posada at the school - a variety show of sorts, with one group doing a little choreographed dance, several people singing, and lots of people reading poems or Bible verses.  The MC was one of those types who shouldn't be allowed near a microphone, so I think the event went longer than necessary, but it was still nice.  Our group sang a couple of Christmas songs while I played flute!  It was well-received, and we had a good time.

It feels strange to be done with classes now, but it's a relief at the same time.  Towards the end, literature was interesting but much more reading than previous weeks.  And I started to get frustrated with grammar, since I was learning stuff that I felt was irrelevant, and the teacher and I seemed to talk past each other frequently.  But, it's over, and I'm putting the pieces together to start at UIC in January!

¡Viva la Santa!

The traditional birthday toast/exclamation here; I asked what it means, exactly, since I know there isn't a Saint Rachel, for example.  The answer: no reason.  That's just what they say.  Works for me!

On Wednesday I made a pumpkin pie, with the intention of eating it Thursday, when it's perfectly aged and chilled, clearly the best way to eat pumpkin pie.  I have a true, unbridled passion for pumpkin pie; on top of that, it goes with my favorite holiday (Thanksgiving), and it seems to fit pretty well with my birthday, too.  So, I decided to make some for my host family so they could see a little bit of what the American Thanksgiving is all about.  And to celebrate, of course.  Fortunately, I consider myself a "resourceful" cook; that sounds better than "a cook who likes to make things up as she goes along."  I'm like that at home, too, which meant I had plenty of experience winging it in the kitchen.  I learned last week making ginger cookies that 1) Ecuador does not have molasses, and that 2) you can in fact make a molasses-like substance by dissolving DARK brown sugar in water, but it takes a lot more sugar and a lot less water than you'd believe possible.  Also, Ecuador does not have canned pumpkin (kinda obvious, I suppose, considering they can grow any type of fresh produce imaginable here).  Or pie pumpkins.  Or any pumpkins, come to think of it.  What they have is zapayo, another type of squash.  So 'fresh squash pie' is a little more work than regular pumpkin pie (to cook and prepare the squash), but it is just as good.  A little lighter flavor, and a little chunkier consistency, but it certainly worked.  I feel like a bit of a heathen, being not just a fall baby but arguably a Thanksgiving baby, and not ever having made a pumpkin pie by myself; but I think this was an impressive and successful first time.  My host family loved it!  Me too - I had some for breakfast.  And then some more with lunch. :)

On Thursday, my actual birthday, I went to the university in the morning (we haven't had my morning grammar class all week, since my teacher is out of town) to watch a movie with the intermediate class.  It was well made artistically, but very hard to understand the dialogue.  With Urban Regeneration, we went to the Parque Histórico, the zoo/history park I visited when I first got here.  It was fun to go again, since it's a beautiful site.  The guides were sometimes interesting, sometimes not... but we appreciated the effort!  We got back on the late side, so I sat right down to eat cake with the family!  Not sure why, but they felt it necessary to have another cake too, where they could put a candle for me to blow out... So we ended up eating pumpkin pie and what I think was some sort of chocolate lava cake.  Both wonderful!  Later in the evening, I met up with several of the students, most of the teachers, and a couple friends of the aforementioned celebrators, at a fancy sushi restaurant in the mall.  It was pretty good, with everything from real (though expensive) sushi and other Japanese food, to beginner sushi, to strange fushion concoctions, such as a fried sushi roll topped with flaming sake.  It was a fun place, and I think everyone enjoyed it.  Afterwards, about half of us went to Las Peñas to find somewhere to dance!  We got there right as all the bars were closing, however.  Just in this neighborhood, apparently - we could still hear music from other areas for another couple hours, and the teachers we were with, native Guayaquileños, were surprised that places were closed so early.  So we walked down a little further to La Paleta, a funky little artsy bar where I'd been once before with Juan Carlos.  The music is too loud to have a good conversation, but we attempted anyway, shouting across the table at each other about music styles, the machismo culture, and who knows what else.  It was all in all a pretty calm night, but lots of fun - just my style!  And I am truly touched by the number and thoughtfulness of my well-wishers.  I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and Birthday as well! :)

From left: Pascal (Diana's hubby), Luke, Amanda, Maria del Carmen, me, Rebekka, Fergus, and Diana

Last week a group of us attempted to go see Harry Potter, since it was opening here as well.  After an inexplicable level of misunderstanding regarding the taxi to get there, we finally arrived late to find all of the showings sold out.  We got coffee instead, and turned in early.  So tonight we decided to try again.  Luke and I assumed - pretty ethnocentrically, I now realize - that it would be in English, with Spanish subtitles.  It's a brand new movie that just came out in the U.S., and that's how it was when I went to see Grown Ups, so I figured this would be the same.  Then the movie started, with an articulate, but definitely Spanish-speaking, narrator, and I thought, "Uh oh."  Sure enough, the whole movie was in Spanish, with no subtitles in any language.  But I understood almost all of it (pretty impressive, I thought!  It was much more than I've understood from any other movie that I've watched here), and combined with having read the book, I followed along just fine.  I may see it again in English, just to pick up anything I may have missed, but I feel like I've mostly seen it.  What a sense of accomplishment!

Last bit of news, though by now it's a little outdated: a couple weeks ago, I FINALLY succeeded at the Artisan Market!  It only took 4 tries.  The first time, Luke and I went just to look around and see what it was all about.  The second time, we went with the class, but my debit card didn't feel like withdrawing money, so I couldn't buy anything.  The third time, I failed to figure out exactly how to get there via public transport, Maxime and I ended up in the wrong part of town, and I got robbed.  So I didn't want to say anything to jinx it, but HA! I finally did it.  So there.

I hope everything is going well back home.  It's weird to picture you all, bundling up against the threat of snow, while we walk around in the sunshine, sweating profusely.  But I'll get my comeuppance on the return.  In less than a month, I too will be grumbling, buried waist-deep in that gross cold white stuff.  That sounds so soon, but it also feels like a long stretch of time still to go.  I guess we'll see...

Counterclockwise

To Dad, that is the direction of water flow in my toilet.  To all you in the U.S., or wherever else you happen to be, please let me know through comments, email, or Facebook, which direction the water spins in your toilet.  I'm performing an unofficial experiment, and I figure asking around will be much faster than hopping all over the world flushing toilets myself.

This past weekend we went to Montañita, a hippie/surfer beach town just north of Salinas.  Amanda, Luke, and Rebekka and I headed up and met Maxime and several of her friends and co-volunteers there.  We'd heard that the buses are usually crowded, and since we were only staying 1 night, we wanted to be sure to get there in plenty of time to enjoy the day, so we arrived at the bus terminal intending to catch the 6:30 bus.  But the 5:30 hadn't left yet, so they stuck us on there!  It was SUPER early, but we got there in half the time, and had a whole day ahead of us.  We had a wonderful breakfast at a cute little restaurant, half sheltered from the drizzle.  We checked into the hotel and dropped our stuff (and Luke - he's "not a beach person"), and the girls headed down to the beach.  We walked around along the streets for awhile, then made our way across the sand to the far end, where a surf competition was starting up.  Fun to see all the different types of people who show up to watch and participate in an international surf competition in a town that has a reputation in between that of Amsterdam and Vegas, just a whole lot smaller.

Fortunately, as we found out during the day and that evening, it's much more relaxed and laid back than its reputation implies.  It really is just a perpetual surfer vacation, in a little corner of an overlooked region of the world.  Amanda and I decided to take a surf lesson together, which was a blast!  Hard, though.  The lesson was 2 hours, and by the end, we were both ready to be done.  My body is still aching, and I have a pretty impressive skinned knee, but once I heal, I would definitely do it again!  It's a lot harder than it looks, so I have a lot more respect for surfers now (meaning: I have respect for surfers now. Haha, jk...).

We grabbed an afternoon coffee at a vegetarian restaurant and cafe, where there were 3 little kittens looking for a home.  This little cafe seemed to represent all the good that is Montañita and, more generally, La Vie Boheme: the care to eat well and conscientiously, the appreciation for fun and funky local art, the advantage of the fresh air, and the willingness to help others.  Don't worry, Mom, I didn't bring a kitten back with me.  It's illegal to bring them into the country.  Fine, I researched it.  But I didn't do it!  Yet... ;)

We met up with Maxime and the other Dutch volunteers, plus two Ecuadorian volunteers, for some dinner, then started searching for a place to spend the evening.  Except that it was 8:30, and as anyone who has experienced the Latino culture can tell you, that's time to wake up from your afternoon nap, since the places don't start hopping until 11 or 12.  But anyway.  We hung around down on the beach for awhile, Maxime and the other Dutch girl and I got hair wraps, and then we all made our way to a dance club on the second floor of a big hotel right next to the sand.  It was pretty fun, though by the end of the night, the music was getting painfully bad.  They started out with a combination of American hits and Latin beats, a perfect dance atmosphere.  But when they started getting into 90s electronica and rhythmless AutoTune noise, we decided it was time to leave.  Of course, this was a little past 3am, which was enough excitement for us gringos.  But as we walked back to the hotel, the Ecuadorian boys and a couple of the Dutch boys were already making plans to go somewhere else.  Eesh.

We woke up the next morning for the Swiss breakfast included with our hotel - it consisted of yogurt with cereal and strawberries (my favorite - the yogurt was the European style, think and tangy without flavors or sweetener), bread with jam or manjar (caramel spread), and mashed potatoes with meatballs and a salad... ?  So that was a little different, but fun.  We wandered down to figure out the bus schedule, and found one that was leaving at 1, so we bought our tickets.  But it wasn't a normal bus like the one we'd taken there; rather, it was a 14-passenger van.  So the tickets were more expensive and the ride was more cramped and bumpy, but we made it.

And it was fun!  We all got something a little different out of it, I think.  But we all seemed to enjoy ourselves.  I would certainly go back.  It's a great place to visit with some energy and some friends, but I think it would be kinda boring alone... so hopefully I can scare up somebody to go with me the next time too!  To a girl from a small town in the Midwest, the idea of walking town in a swimsuit with sandy feet where no one even cares is the epitomy of a great vacation.

The Plagues

It's interesting to see how we've all been adjusting to "typical" Ecuadorian life and culture; the latest example came a couple weeks ago when we found out that the country is doing a census this coming weekend (the original weekend for the Cuenca trip), and no Ecuadorian adults could leave their home provinces.  So, they asked us, would we prefer to go to Cuenca that weekend, or the first weekend in December?  None of us had a problem with that following weekend, so away we went, Nov. 12: Daniela and Janett, the professors; Luke, Amanda, and me, the exchange students; and Rebekka, the German intern who lives in the same house as Luke.  This was just a couple days after I came down with what I thought was a 24-hour tummy bug, though I still wasn't feeling quite myself.  We headed out first thing Friday morning, first driving to Ingapirka on our way to Cuenca.  Ingapirka is a set of ruins from two different cultures - the Cañari, or ancient Ecuadorian culture of that part of the Sierra, and the Incas, from Peru.  The two cultures lived side by side but left contrasting buildings and lifestyles in the same area, literally on the same hillside.  It was lightly drizzling the whole time we were there, with the exception of the walk back, when it started to rain a little harder.  But it wasn't too chilly, and Luke had been nice enough to loan Rebekka and me a couple of large garbage bags, which we put over our heads like Bag Skit witches.  It was moderately interesting, and dare I say it, even if it wasn't as hidden and impressive as Machu Picchu, there were fewer tourists, and less mist, so I feel like we saw a lot more.  We had eaten lunch before walking around - for me, a fried whole trout, which I had to pick apart with a fork and remove the bones from my teeth - so afterward we got back on the bus and pushed on to Cuenca, where it was also drizzling.  At one point on the way there, the driver hit a speed bump (which are quite common on the roads here, plus we'd had to take the old road to go to Ingapirka) at a startling velocity, causing Amanda and I to hit our heads very hard on the roof of the bus.  That was a little terrifying, and added a sore neck and natural aversion to the driver to the rest of the weekend.

At long last we did reach Cuenca, however, and dashed straight to the guided bus tour (well, "straight" is an overstatement; the hotel doorman gave us bad directions, so we actually dashed in a giant circle to the bus).  The tour was interesting, but we couldn't see as much because it was getting dark and still drizzling.  By the time we got out at the top of the huge hill overlooking the whole city, the rain had stopped, so we enjoyed walking around in a couple little shops and trying some canelazo, a hot drink made from sugar cane.  Then we headed back for some dinner, which would have been really fun, except that we were all feeling a bit queasy and unsettled from the day.  So we decided to all turn in early, rather than extending the festivities into the evening.  Saturday we got up, had breakfast at the hotel, and went to visit the Museum of Modern Art, which was fantastic!  Some really interesting pieces displayed in a series of rooms connected by outdoor walkways and gardens and patios.  Very fun!  Next we explored the market, where you can find any sort of warm Andean clothing you could imagine, plus all sorts of cheesy little diddlywhops.  Further down, there are also all kinds of traditional medicinal products and talismans to guard against the Evil Eye, to increase fertility, and who knows what else (I'm still trying to figure out why one would need a ziplock of dried cat's tail or a pile of toenails).  We also visited the Cathedral, which is gorgeous on the inside, although the altar of solid gold was a bit alarming...  And we got a chance to stop in a sweets shop where they sell all sorts of typical Ecuadorian candies, made by the nuns in the town.  Some of them were simply heavenly (hee hee!), and others were just kinda so-so, but it was fun to look at all the different cookies and dried fruits and combinations of communion wafers with caramel sauce.

That afternoon we would have gone to Chordeleg, another nearby town, but we were all feeling a little off.  During lunch, Amanda visibly plummeted from mild discomfort to a full-blown fever and nausea.  We decided to let her sleep it off in the hotel room, and we stayed in town to go to the Museum of the Paja Toquillo, better known as the Panama Hat.  That's a misnomer, since the style of hat so popular with retirement-age, cigar-smoking, South American-traversing men is native to the northern coastal provinces of Ecuador.  The museum was kinda fun, seeing all the equipment from the antique processes up through today.  The hat store was even more fun, trying on all sorts of hats, some very classy, some absolutely absurd.  We brought some soup back to Amanda, who was starting to feel a little better.  The rest of us went out for tapas!  Very fun, and quite good!  And I tried this drink that is apparently very popular in Spain - Coke mixed with red wine.  It was strange.  Not bad, just strange.  We headed back to the hotel and rested up for the next day.

On Sunday, even though we were all feeling either genuinely or sympathetically/hypochondriac-ly sick, we woke up early to drive to Chordeleg, a small town known for its silver jewelry.  It's a little different than I expected... we stayed in the big central square (much like the Woodstock Square, minus the trees) and looked around in about 3 dozen different little jewelry stores.  I had pictured handmade pieces laid out by street vendors, but they were mostly all formal jewelry stores like you would see in the States.  Some of them had some good bargains, but most of the stuff was close to prices we'd pay in the U.S., so it wasn't anything spectacular.  It was still a fun little outing, though, and we were starting to feel a little better.  We stopped for lunch - more whole trout - and then pushed on back to Guayaquil.  The ride was long enough, and I think by the end we were all fighting some sort of bug; we all continued to feel a little sick throughout the next week, including a couple students who hadn't even gone on the trip; definitely something going around.  Ugh.  So, from that standpoint, it sounds like kind of a bummer of a trip, but it really wasn't.  Cuenca is a pretty town with a very European colonial feel.  My favorite part was just walking around the cobblestone streets, seeing the mix of colonial architecture with the occasional modern building squeezed in between.  It's the third largest city in Ecuador, but it feels very much like a small town from a couple hundred years ago.  I would certainly go back some day, though I would prefer a weekend when I'm feeling a little better!

I Left My Heart on Isabela

The ferry to Isabela arrives in the late afternoon, so I decided to find a place to stay and take it easy.  I was pointed toward some taxis at the dock, but none had a driver in sight, so I started walking.  Pretty quickly an open-sided bus slowed down and asked where I was headed and if I'd like a ride.  "Well," I explained, "I don't actually have a hotel yet. I'm going to go ask around."  He invited me to climb in; he owned a hotel that also organized a bunch of tours and activities on the island.  I was welcome to come check out the facilities, and if I was interested, I was welcome to stay, and if not, that was fine too.  The place seemed quite nice, and the guy seemed even nicer, so I stuck around.  It turned out great!  The owner is a really nice guy, the hotel is pretty decent, and the tours turned out to be just what I wanted.  Score 1 for the disorganized but ever-optimistic traveler!  That night I had a quiet dinner at a little restaurant down the road that serves dinner classic Ecuadorian style - you pay a set amount (usually only $2-3) and you get soup, rice with some kind of sauce or stew, and a glass of juice.

Wednesday I arranged to go to Sierra Negra, the most accessible volcano on Isabela.  The island is formed from 6 volcanoes, 5 of which (including Sierra Negra and its neighbor, Volcán Chico) are still active.  I joined a group of about 15 people for the climb.  It starts with a steep climb of about 45 minutes up to the crater, which is the 2nd-largest volcanic crater in the world!  I know, I keep saying I'm not going to climb any more mountains... but this one wasn't too terrible.  The crater itself is breathtaking.  After a brief rest there, the trail almost completely flattens out for 2 or 2 1/2 hours, circling one side of the crater and leading to a small picnic area where we stopped for lunch.  We ate in about 17 minutes... David, the guide, seemed to be in a big hurry, never stopping for so much as 5 minutes, but at the end of the day, I could understand why.  It's certainly doable in 1 day, but it's a long day, and you need to ride your own momentum to keep from tiring out!

Anyway, after lunch is when it gets really beautiful.  This part of the trek goes across the far side of Sierra Negra, which is a beautiful cactus- and rock-filled desert, on to Volcán Chico, which erupted less than 5 years ago and which looks like something from the moon.  Here the "trail" (means: "follow the general direction of the group across a vast expanse of loose volcanic rock") is more technically demanding, but ethereally beautiful.  The couple hours we spent on this side of the mountain made this entire trip for me.

After we returned to the start, sore and exhausted, we gratefully climbed back onto the bus, which dropped us all off at our respective hotels.  A small family from Guayaquil was staying in the same hotel and had also climbed Sierra Negra.  They called a taxi to come pick them up and invited me along to the beach!  I was game.  I set out a towel, scrubbed the first layer of dust and dirt off my noticeably brown ankles, and napped briefly.  It was glorious.  I was starting to develop some impressive blisters, too, so it was nice to be off my feet for a bit.

The next morning I decided to go to Muro de Las Lagrimas, a big stone wall in the middle of the desert that was built in 1948 by prisoners as a form of punishment.  The wall itself is interesting, but the surrounding landscape is the real sight to see.  Many tour buses drive along the bumpy dirt road and pause long enough that the little old ladies can get off and take a picture by the Big Wall, but then most get back on the bus and drive back. 

Lauro, the hotel owner, had offered (well, insisted) on going along with me.  He's a funny little man.  Shamelessly, aggressively friendly, and he's always either singing or whistling.  Usually it's something he's made up on the spot, with the same "melody" but different words. After investigating the wall itself, he suggested we climb up the stairs to have a look around - beautiful.  Then he pointed to a little trail that continues up the hill, so we climbed a little further.  If you're vigilant, you can actually climb the entire hill and the slightly higher one behind it (tho by the end the 'trail' has deteriorated into what would be a deer trail back home; narrow, curving wildly back and forth, and interrupted every few steps by loose rocks, bushes, and cacti).  At one point you reach a flat open area at the top of the second hill, where there is a big cement foundation and lots of rusty scrap metal.  Lauro explained to me that this used to be a US military radar base, since you can see the entire part of the island and the ocean surrounding it on 3 sides.  He told me after we'd left that technically that area is prohibited... whoops.  I think he assumed we wouldn't get caught, but if we did, I think he was going to rely on me to do my Dumb White Tourist impression and pretend not to speak Spanish.  Anyway, the "trail" goes a few meters past the former base, to a teetery but totally-worth-it vantage point.  After the hike (again with the mountain climbing! sheesh!), the view and the breeze and the freedom will take your breath away.  Plus when you consider how few people know about this place or have climbed all the way to that last lookout (Lauro himself had never been there), it was an amazing feeling.

On the way back we climbed up to another little viewing platform on one of the surrounding hills.  From there, we watched a cop car (white pickup truck with paint on the sides) pull up to the park entrance, look around, possibly pee into the bushes, and then drive away again.  Lauro explained that they were probably headed to the beach.  "Nothing happens in Isabela," he explained.  "They really don't have much to do, so oftentimes they'll go relax at the beach for a little while during the day, or go get ice cream."  I had seen police in Guayaquil take a load off in the shade in the residential neighborhoods to enjoy an ice cream or a cigarette, but it seems to make more sense to do that in Galápagos.  I wish more people in more careers took the time to do stuff like that!  We headed back along the road, which was a good 90 minutes or 2 hours to walk.  My feet were easier to ignore once we'd been walking for a couple minutes, but every time we stopped to rest, starting again got a little more painful.  My feet just weren't used to walking that much in those shoes across rocks and cacti.  At one point Lauro noticed I was walking a little slower and more delicately, so I explained that I had blisters.  He offered to help me clean them when we got back to the hotel.  Little did I know...

...he was trying to incapacitate me!  I was reluctant at first, but he insisted that I needed to clean them with alcohol so they wouldn't get infected.  At long last I agreed.  But I didn't realize he was planning to pop them with a gigantic yarn needle until he did it!  Afterwards I was a little peeved, in part because the alcohol REALLY HURT, and in part because I still needed to use my feet, in the same places (meaning, the bottoms!), and so opened blisters were going to be more painful and more easily infected than if we'd left them alone until I could take it easy while they sealed up again.  Grr.  So I lounged around in the hammock, reading and grumbling, for an hour or two before my afternoon tour to Las Tintoreras.  Fortunately it would involve less walking and more swimming, but still... grr...

Las Tintoreras is an area within site of the main dock of Isabela, but mostly enclosed by an islota and reef.  You can snorkel, since it's relatively shallow, and see everything from fish to rays to sometimes sharks!  I was in a boat with what I think was a recently married gay couple.  They were very friendly, and quite funny!  First our driver took us close to several islotas to see sea lions where they like to nap (which is everywhere, such as in the middle of the sidewalk), blue-footed boobies, and penguins!  Then he anchored the boat and told us to jump on in.  We looked at each other, a bit confused, a bit hesitant, then one by one went overboard.  It's not teeming with life like in the movies, but if you're patient, you can see some pretty neat stuff.  The fish were all quite large and colorful.  I didn't recognize many species besides puffer fish, though... and I'm pretty sure I heard the telltale crunching that indicates some species of parrot fish (which eat coral).  But we were kinda floating around and exploring, when I looked around and realized I was a little ways away from the two guys.  I looked up, directly in front of me, and all of a sudden a huge sea turtle materialized, about an arm's length from me!  I was stunned.  It was so unexpected, so beautiful, and so majestic, I was frozen in place for several seconds, as it eyed me and slowly sailed past.  It was incredible.  After reuniting with the guys, they said they'd seen a shark!  I was a little disappointed to have missed it, but I think I was happier with my turtle. :)

We made about 3 passes of the little stretch of cove, also counting at least half a dozen rays (the guide kept mentioning manta rays, but I'm pretty sure one of them was a sting ray), lots more turtles (one bigger than me!), and lots more cool fish and sedentary reef thangs.  We even saw a cobalt-blue starfish squeezed into a crevice, and an entire field? harvesting ground? discotech? of sea cucumbers (Mr. Donato's favorite animal.  Much more social here, I think.  At least, more of them per square meter.  Does that make them more friendly, or just slower-moving?).  Then an adolescent sea lion showed up, and we danced and played with it for about half an hour.  It would appear, leap into the air, then submerge itself and go whizzing past us, sideways or upside down.  Then it would dive down to the bottom and come rocketing back up, all just out of arm's reach.  It was fun!  And the more we played along, the more fun he seemed to be having, too.  At least, the more he would show off!  Finally we climbed back into the boat and rode over to the islota that encloses one side of the little cove.  There is a trail that goes all the way around, where you can see more iguanas than I've ever even imagined, plus two iguana nesting grounds, a secluded sea lion nesting beach, and a narrow channel where sharks come nap during the day (for which the cove is named - Tintoreras are white-tipped reef sharks).  There was only one very sleepy shark lying at the bottom, but it was fun to see.  The path is flanked by iguanas and littered with their odd little friends, the lava lizards.  Every time we'd stumble upon a particularly big, ugly iguana (and I like iguanas!), one of the guys would coo, "Ah! Qué lindo!" ("Oh! How lovely!")  Except he meant it.  It made me smile.

That night I headed down to La Casa Rosada, a total young person hippie hotel / evening hangout.  It was pretty fun!  There were people from all over the world, sitting around socializing by the bonfire, or passing around a couple guitars and playing/singing in between iPod sessions.  The hotel is literally right on the beach (we were sitting on logs in the sand, and we could practically see the waves through the dark).  The sound of the waves combined with more stars than I have ever seen in my life made it an absolutely gorgeous night.

Early the next morning I caught the boat back to Santa Cruz.  This one was smoother than the last, but I was still ready to get off by the end.  I ran into a group of Argentines whom I'd met briefly earlier in the week, and they invited me to come sit by them.  We had a nice chat, and they mentioned that they had a hotel reserved and were going to drop their stuff and then head to Tortuga Bay to spend the whole day on the beach.  Well, Tortuga Bay was the one place I still wanted to see, and an entire day on the beach sounded sinfully enjoyable, so I happily accepted their invitation to tag along!  Also, cosmically, they were a group of 4 and had a room with 5 beds, so they generously let me stay in their room, too!  The walk to Tortuga Bay is longer than advertised... it probably took us a good 90 minutes or 2 hours.  We reached the beach, but they suggested we keep walking a little further to where there is a secluded bay with some shade.  We ate some oranges, napped, had some interesting philosophical conversations, and just enjoyed being outside.  It was wonderful.  We all headed out for dinner and a couple beers that evening, since one of them was having a birthday the next day.  The next morning we all shared a taxi ride to the ferry/airport, since that seemed easier, even though my flight was a couple hours later.  It gave me a chance to relax a little, read, and meet a nice lady from Guayaquil who chatted me up while we waited.  I was tired, sure, and a little scorchy (at least on my shoulders; Mom, I promise, I used sunscreen, constantly! I think I must have sweat most of it off on the volcano, since the only part that was tender was from that day and in the shape of a tank top + backpack), but mostly bummed out about leaving.  Isabela in particular, being the quieter, more isolated, yet in my opinion much more beautiful island, really struck a chord with me.  If I ever need to run away, that's where I'm going - it just felt like "my" island.  So, this post title, though in reference to a sweet but somewhat cheesy song, really is the truth.  I did leave a part of my heart on Isabela.  As well as my good flip flops.