As Promised

Below are a couple highlights of the 188 (I counted) pictures from El Altar.  For more, check out my Facebook, ask me for an email, or wait until the Big Slideshow Showdown when I return...  I hope I can successfully format this after posting it to put the pictures next to the written post, because if they're separated, my OCD may be too much to handle... but if I fail, just scroll down a little further for the explanation of what the heck this weird-looking place is.

Looking down at Riobamba and the small mountain towns

The surreal landscape along the ridge that leads eventually to the peaks

Laguna Verde, as the mist clears

Contemplating

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Almost done with this cycle of classes!  I have to go in one more time today to get my grades and to talk to Daniela - she was nice enough to write a letter saying I'm a student so I can hopefully get the student rate to enter the Galapagos (normal foreigners pay $100; students pay $25); but, since all of my student IDs were stolen, I'm going to try to procure another from the university.

Most importantly, Mango Season has started!  My host family bought a basketful last weekend, so we've been working on them all week.  The mangoes we see in the U.S. are the "export" variety; the ones they eat here are much smaller, with a lighter, more floral flavor.  My host mom explained that I'd better hop to it with eating them, because if I didn't get to it, she'd finish them all!  She brags that she will eat 3 or 4 easily in one sitting, 6 if she's actually in the mood.  And the ones on the tree in the back yard should be ripening in the next week or two, which is very exciting!

As illustrated above, most of the time my host mom is a little quirky, but lucid.  Then I woke up yesterday.  Apparently, around this time every year, my host mom can no longer contain her excitement over Christmas, so she starts decorating... on October 27.  When I left around midday for school, the entire front room of the house (which constitutes a front hall, a large sitting room, and the dining room) was filled with boxes and stepladders and packing materials.  I returned to see most of it unpacked and painstakingly laid out in a Winter Wonderland in 92 degree heat, complete with extra end tables set up to hold more decorations, and a red cozy on top of the water cooler.  It was a little funny, but hey, she needs something to do, right?  Then I woke up today.  There was another pile of boxes and bags the same size as the one yesterday!  So now I'm getting a little nervous... has she in fact lost her mind?  Will Christmas arrive before we all drown in the chaos of lights, manger scenes, fake "frosted" fruit, and the 10 Santas I've counted, just from where I'm sitting right now?  Who knows.  But if you don't hear from me, grab the keys from underneath the ornaments hanging on the key hook, let yourself in, and start digging under the pile of green tablecloths with perfectly coordinated red placements and fake snow-stuffing.

"That" Weekend

I apologize for the length, but there is a lot to tell.  I did not fall off the extinct volcano, and there are no monkeys.  Here is the [mostly] unexaggerated story.  Pictures to follow.

They say the unexpected adventures are the best.  Well, they are the most noteworthy, anyway.  I decided to take a break from my usual over-preparedness and travel on a whim this weekend.  I think sometimes that would be a perfectly fine idea, but other times not necessarily… and of course I have to learn the hard way.  Lesson #1: if they suggest bringing a jacket and a rainproof layer, DO IT.  Lesson #2: “Trekking” ≠ Hiking.  Trekking is the equivalent of mountain climbing minus the ice pick.  Now I know.

We started out Thursday, early afternoon.  The bus ride to Riobamba, the main transfer point for trips throughout the Sierra (the mountains) and the entry point to the Amazon, usually takes about 3-4 hours.  4 ½ hours later – after an extensive detour and an unexplained 30 minute delay in the middle of the road – we arrived.  We had called the tour company office to let them know that we were on the bus, but would be a little late. “Okay, see you soon!” was the response.  When we finally found the office (which was no small feat, since we only had an intersection, not an address, and the sign above the door is a different name than the company on their website), it was closed.  No answer (not even a voicemail!) on the office phone, and the cell phone number from the website went straight to an error message.  We decided to get some food and then investigate further.  Still no luck.  We reluctantly decided to walk down the street to a hostel we’d seen, to get some sleep and try again in the morning.  For only $7 each, we got a separate room with 2 beds, a bathroom with a functioning toilet and shower (though missing the TP and shower curtain), and a cable TV!  And no bedbugs. (I checked.)  So although the idea was enough to inspire a horror flick, this particular locale wasn’t actually that intimidating.  Pretty darn good for a first hostel experience!  The next morning, after failing to secure any coffee whatsoever, either because all plausible sources were closed or “out” (out of coffee??), we set up our stakeout in front of the door of the office.  It got to be a few minutes past 8, when they were supposed to open, so we started calling again.  Someone answered the cell, sounding confused, and told us to take a taxi to the guesthouse.  Once there, we were able to fill in the missing details: Wlady, the Top Banana (of 2) got married a week ago and had spent the week honeymooning in Colombia – hence the sporadic email communication.  He had gotten back the night before, then rushed off to the airport at 3am to pick up one of the other girls going on the trip with us.  All of this had been explained, and additional cell numbers had been given, in the 3 emails – from Wlady (who speaks Spanish and almost perfect English, too) and his partner, Jake – that we would have received Thursday, if we hadn’t already been on a bus and away from a computer.  Oh well.  So we met Wlady, whose first 2 comments were: “Huh. You talk like a gringa.” (um, thanks, jerk? I’m trying, and I’m not as bad as some); and “Um, are you guys ready for the trek?  Okaaaay… You know this is the hardest trek in Ecuador? [giggle]”  Bad start.  Lucky for us, they had extra hiking boots, water resistant pants, and a poncho we could borrow.  We suited up, with approximately 60 pounds of backpack apiece (though I have a feeling Jake’s was closer to 80 lbs!), and headed out – Jake (I guess he’s the Vice Banana?); Mauri, our other guide, who speaks beautiful Spanish, and is learning English but didn’t speak any with us; Polina, from Russia, who had gone from St. Petersburg to Ecuador in 2 days; Ylonah, from Ireland, who is here for an Ultimate Extreme Vacation, including volunteering at an animal rescue/reserve in the rainforest, where she got bitten by a monkey a few days ago; Luke; and me.  Taxi to the bus, bus to a town the size of the Woodstock Square, then a ride in the back of a pickup truck to the entrance of the park (the entrance being a hill in the middle of one of the farms, between the cows and the donkey).

The first hour or so of the hike was pure mud.  Well, not pure mud.  There were a few underwater rocks, too.  No more than 10 minutes in, I started to feel kinda funny.  By the first real resting place, an hour or two in, I had deduced that I was feeling some altitude sickness.  I’d read plenty about it, but never felt anything like it before.  For those of you who have not had the pleasure, it feels like having the flu – headache or dizziness, nausea, hot and cold flashes, and fatigue – but without the relief of being able to throw up and feel better (well, for me anyway.  Luke threw up several times later that day).  All in all, the trek itself wouldn’t have been quite so difficult, but the altitude sickness amplified everything about 4 times – the hard work, the fatigue, the cold.  At the first site, we made the decision to push on to the cave where we were supposed to spend the night, even though we were a little behind schedule after a late start.  A third of the way there, Luke and I were both starting to feel worse.  The others went ahead with Jake, while Mauri stayed behind with us, at a pace that was probably excruciatingly slow for a Real Trekker like him.  But he was very pleasant about the whole thing.  Then the clouds started moving into the valley; then it hailed a little; then it started to rain; then it started to snow.  Fan-tastic.  Luke and I, teetering on Death’s doorstep, reached a flat spot among the mud and grass tufts where the others had set up the small guide tent, slithered inside, and tried to shake the misery that had sunk into our bones.  We had slept for a little less than an hour, shivering uncontrollably, when Mauri showed up again to help us up to the cave.  We figured a cave with a fire was a much better option than the cold, wet tent out in the open, so we pushed on through the sleet, making it just before dark.  We huddled in the tent with the others, slowly regaining feeling in our extremities, and ejecting our wet stuff outside the tent.  No fire, since everything was wet, but we had some hot chocolate over the gas canister, followed by some bread and soup with noodles (bonding by all eating out of the little pot, since we didn’t have cups).  Then we fell asleep for nearly 13 hours.  We took turns waking up every few minutes, and made a complete rotation with the spot on the end, wedged in the coldest, dampest corner of the tent.  Though considering the “cave” was really only a 2-meter-deep indent in the wet rock, it was surprisingly cozy in the tent.

The next morning, Luke and I decided to push on to the top of the ridge, despite the continued sick feeling.  It was hard, though not quite as hard as the day before – the breathlessness and shakiness was coming in waves, instead of being constant.  Once atop the ridge, we decided it had all been worth it.  The landscape is surreal – stranger even than the Land of Mordor from the Lord of the Rings, which is how Jake had described it.  El Altar used to be the tallest volcano in Ecuador, until it exploded a few hundred years ago, leaving nine peaks in the shape of a claw (or, more poetically, two nuns and four friars listening to a bishop, hence the name).  The inner contours and valleys were probably formed by glaciers, and the land looks as though the glaciers could have melted a year ago.  So few people have seen this area that it is practically untouched.  There are several lagoons tucked among the peaks as well; as the mist and clouds cleared, we got a clear view of 3 of them.  As we hiked further along to wait for a clear shot of the snow-capped peaks (still shrouded in clouds), we experienced one of the highs of trip, and an undeniable blessing – a condor flew about 6 feet over our heads.  Condors are the symbol of the Andes (and of the rapidly disappearing indigenous cultures), but they are thought to be extinct in this area.  They have been on the Endangered Species List for decades, and were considered extinct in all but a select few regions 50 years ago.  It vanished into the mist as silently as it had emerged, leaving us frozen in awe.

Oftentimes this tour will hike up a bit further to catch a glimpse of one of the lagoons from above, but with the clouds and the cold, we decided not to do that.  Jake suggested that we could hike directly to the lagoon, though he had never done it before.  Again, we declined.  We started heading back, but then paused for a couple minutes for pit stops and photos.  Cue the other high of the trip: the clouds parted, revealing the breathtaking and humbling snowy peaks.  Within another 10 minutes, the whole scene was hidden once again, but as we began to descend, we were speechless.

The descent was certainly easier than the ascent the day before, but I still wasn’t feeling myself, and I was much shakier.  Kinda scary when climbing down a 17,000 ft pile of mud.  We made it to the woods in the valley where we’d stopped the first day and filled up our water bottles.  I was tickled that we were able to drink right out of the little stream!  It comes straight from the glacier on the peaks, and there are no farms upstream, so it’s safe.  The other girls decided to push on back to Riobamba that night, rather than camping again; Luke and I decided to just camp, since we were pretty tired.  Half an hour after they left, it started sprinkling, then raining in earnest, which continued for most of the evening, so we were content to have stayed.  More hot chocolate, more soup and noodles.  Hot food really hits the spot after a chilly day of hiking.  After a philosophical discussion of spirituality, New Age medicine, Reiki, and literature, we fell asleep.  This time I was really cold overnight, but we made it through.  Attempted to dry off some of our wet gear over the morning campfire, then put on our wet and muddy stuff one last time.  The way back was even worse after all the rain, and I came out looking like a Swamp Creature (the boots I had borrowed had sizable holes in them, and the pants were ripped crotch-to-knee on both sides, so I got pretty intimate with the mud).  We changed shoes and began our walk back down the mountain road.  After just a few minutes, a truck drove by and we were able to finagle a ride, standing up in the back (which was good, since the “hour and a half walk” that Jake had mentioned would have actually been about a 4 hour hike).  They dropped us right at the intersection where the bus would pass, so we sat down to wait.  After awhile, another truck came by, on its way to Riobamba, so we hopped in the back, alongside two women and an older man who only spoke Quechua, and their relative who also spoke Spanish.  They were fascinated by us, asking questions all the way down.  At one point we pulled onto a dirt road alongside a farm to wait for half an hour or so for another old man and his grandson to join us, and then we were off again.  Next we approached a “minga,” a voluntary service project undertaken by the whole community (for example, repairing the road), where we were greeted, ogled, and offered shots of puro, a sweet, cloudy liquor made from sugarcane.  We cordially accepted, to cheers from the enthusiastic crowd, then continued on our way.  The ride down took much longer than the ride up, and our butt bones were pretty sore by the bottom of the mountain, but our spirits were noticeably higher.  We stopped for a lunch of llapingachos.  Now, in Guayaquil, llapingachos (yah-ping-GAH-chohz) are patties made of mashed potatoes, stuffed with cheese, and served with rice, maní (peanut sauce), and a fried egg.  But in the Sierra, llapingachos are a scoop or two of mashed and pan-fried potatoes, served over lettuce or cabbage, with either an egg or a small piece of meat or chorizo.  They were pretty good, though the ones at home are better. :)  After lunch we returned to Wlady’s house to unload their equipment, exchange contact info with the girls (who had survived the adventure the night before, evidently), and say our goodbyes.

We hit the bus terminal at 2:41pm.  The next bus left at 3:30.  Perfect timing to grab a snack and get on the bus.  At 3:26, sitting on the bus, we realized the lady at the ticket counter, after having looked at the two of us standing there asking her for 2 tickets, had only sold us 1 ticket.  We scrambled back to the counter, but as the bus was full and due to depart, she couldn’t exchange the ticket.  We bought two more, to her confusion, and walked around to sulk for another half hour.  At 4:05, we were finally underway.  But, as I’m coming to think may be an unspoken curse of the Riobamba bus system, we were delayed about 90 minutes in.  We sat in the middle of the road, in a long line of cars and trucks and semis half-obscured by the thick fog, for an hour and a half.  Eventually the bus driver got impatient and tried to cut in line, which just blocked off the other lane, so traffic going in the other direction couldn’t move either.  Finally we got out, past what I think was just construction all along, picking our way back through the detour.  We got back to Guayaquil at 9:30, after 5 ½ hours on the bus.  Ugh.  I called the driver that the family likes to use (and with whom we’d arranged a pick up for when we returned on Sunday), who said he’d expected us earlier, and he was already at home, so tough luck.  We called Taxi Amigo, the only truly “safe” taxi company in the city, and they said they were sending a car.  We waited and waited, but it never showed.  So we called back, and got hung up on.  Twice.  Well, once each.  Out of options and starting to panic a little at 10:15, we called Juan Carlos, who cheerfully came to get us.

In the end, it was one of the most unexpected (and miserable) experiences of my life, but I’m glad I did it.  At one point Jake asked Luke and I if we still would have done it if we’d known what we were getting ourselves into.  We exchanged looks and responded “No, probably not...  Definitely not.”  But by that token, here we had a chance to do something that most sane people will never get to experience.  As the sun/windburn, blisters, splinters, and sore muscles slowly heal, the sparkling memories (and hair-raising stories) will remain for years to come.

Hindsight is Just That

Another thing to cross off my bucket list, and another way in which Kori can kick my butt at Never Have I Ever... And also stoking the fire of my desire to go shopping at the artisan market!  (Maybe the 4th time's the charm? I don't know. I think it's just taunting me now...)  I wanted to wait a few days to cool off and process everything, but now that I've run out of filthy names and blood-curdling insults, I'm feeling better.  On Saturday, I met up with Maxime, a volunteer from Holland, to take the Metrovia downtown to shop.  Hindsight #1, should've asked someone at the school exactly where to get off.  We chose "Mercado Central" because it sounded plausible.  We had an approximate idea of where to go (though our mental map was shifted a few blocks, I think; right direction, though).  We were walking along one of the busier streets, when some kids appeared (Hindsight #2) and stole my purse!  To be brief, we weren't doing anything particular dumb or tourist-y other than walking in what turned out to be Hindsight #3, the wrong part of town.  Like they always say, it all happened so fast.  That, combined with the little jerk leaping headfirst into the busy 4-lane street and taking off around the block, meant neither one of us was really prepared to trip him or kick him in the crotch like we should have.  It was frustrating that, when the guard at the nearby Metrovia stop called the police for us, no one answered because they were all "busy."  But otherwise, it wasn't a big deal in Hindsight #4.  He didn't get anything vitally important, just a little cash, ID cards, and my phone.  As my mom likes to say, it's just stuff.  The important thing is that we're fine.  I'm also relieved that they only went after me, not Maxime - I wouldn't forgive myself if anything had happened to her on my watch. :)

So, that was my weekend.  Please try not to worry, as I really am fine.  And if anyone sees a 15-year-old punk walking around with my driver's license, please punch him in the nose for me.  And then pick up my license, I'd really love it back.  With my watermelon lipgloss.  And as for the title of this post, let me elaborate just a bit.  It is certainly one of my pet peeves, and possibly others' as well, when you have done something that clearly could have gone better, for some obvious reasons, and people you talk to feel the need to explain to you why you shouldn't have done it.  I appreciate the thoughtfulness and the concern, but usually I'm already in the process of beating myself up over my mistake, so I don't need more people doing that too.  For instance, now I know we shouldn't have been around there; if we had known before, we wouldn't have been there.  I already had my purse tucked securely under my arm (I have a small bruise to prove I wasn't being stupid with it!), but I will keep my eyes open for suspicious groups of punks, and be ready to sock them.  I will start keeping my money and debit card and phone and everything else I own in various nooks and crannies of my body and clothing.  You get the idea.  So just remember, take it easy on people.  Chances are they've already thought of your advice on their own; you can still show concern, but be gentle.

Then, on to the more exciting news!  I'm headed up into the Sierra this weekend for a hike around the area of Riobamba, in the hills/mountains of El Altar.  I'm pretty excited; it'll be my first trip up into the mountains, and the pictures I've seen are breathtaking.  I'm also not really sure what I'm getting myself into, which makes it a little scary and a little exciting.  I decided to take a chance and just do it.  Wish me luck!  If you don't hear from me soon, either I fell off the extinct volcano, or a monkey ate me.  Or else there are no words...  ;)

Ciudad Deportada Tan Lejos

The last couple of weeks have felt a bit "movie laden." One teacher encouraged us all to go see Prometeo Deportado, which was wonderful (although we haven't had our "official" class discussion of it yet). Last week we watched a Brazilian film called Ciudad de Dios (City of God), which was not wonderful. It was powerful and thought-provoking, sure, but I'll be satisfied if I never have to watch it again. It's essentially 2 solid hours of adolescent drug gangs killing and maiming each other, made even more heartbreaking as it is based on a true story of the Brazilian favelas (poorer than poor towns outside Rio de Janeiro). If you've got the stomach for it, it's an interesting and eye-opening cultural and historical piece, but I wouldn't recommend it to many. Then today we watched a movie entitled Qué Tan Lejos (roughly, How Much Further), another Ecuadorian movie. This one was quite enjoyable: a character and culture study of the subtleties of Ecuadorian culture and contemporary perspectives.

On the other side of the cultural exchange spectrum, we had our "food day" a couple of weeks ago. All of the international students in our program were invited to bring in a typical dish of their home country to prepare in front of the class. I didn't really have a clear idea of what "typical" American food is, other than fast food or ethnic restaurants. Eventually I decided on Ambrosia, the fruit salad/dessert of pineapple, mandarin oranges, coconut, and marshmallows that you often find at picnics and outdoor events. It was a little rocky - in hindsight I should have cut the fruit at home, neatly and on a cutting board, but instead I attempted to perform complex surgical operations mid-air without cutting myself. I mostly succeeded, except for the large puddle of orange juice on the floor... but everyone seemed to like it just fine! Other dishes included PB&J sandwiches and spinach artichoke dip from the US, French toast from Holland, hummus from Ghana, egg salad from Korea, and pancakes as well as shepherd's pie from Canada. It was a fun morning, and we all left really full!

Below are some pictures of the outside of the house. Yes, I know this is random.

Last week we had our mid-course tests, since this cycle of courses finishes at the end of October. A written test in Grammar, and an oral presentation for Conversation about the position of women in Ecuadorian society. Both went fine and were reasonably interesting, I suppose. But it felt like a milestone in the semester, even though it doesn't feel as though we've been here all that long. Classes are still pretty informal, so it doesn't always feel like we're in school, but it's fun and interesting in a different way.

On Saturday, Guayaquil's Independence Day, I tagged along with Lucas and Rebekka to their host brother's friend's house for a grill out and chill out afternoon. Very mellow, but fun, and that seems to be the preferred method of celebrating independence day here. Something came up with Daniela in the evening, so we went our separate ways and I spent a relaxing evening at home! Chévere. (Sweet.)

My dad asked me whether I thought things move at a different place closer to the equator than they do closer to the poles. I don't feel I have enough first-hand evidence to say for sure, but from what I've seen they certainly do. I haven't yet decided if it's just coincidental cultural differences, or a reaction to the constant heat and humidity, or poverty-driven societies, or the abundance of rum and coconuts, or what exactly. Seriously, though, I think it's a combination of the heat and the poverty. People just don't have the need to kick it up a notch most places, and they'd only become frustrated with resistance or the continued relaxed pace of those around them. Getting annoyed at slow-moving people doesn't hurry them up, it just raises your own blood pressure. There's a saying that I've heard a lot here, with variations, but essentially, "You're in Ecuador." Meaning, don't fret, things will get done. Sometimes the website just doesn't sell airline tickets. Sometimes the immigration authority doesn't bother to do everything they're supposed to do in order to register your visa. Sometimes the whole country shuts down for a couple days because of a police strike. No worries, hakuna matata, you'll live. It's an interesting perspective, but one I'm trying to get down. Because there really is no reason for so many of us to be so frustrated and so stressed all the time. It accomplishes nothing that we couldn't do as effectively if not better if we were in a more positive state of mind.

Okay, one last thing that will perfectly round out my point, if I have one. The dishwasher (which, as you recall is now an extra kitchen cabinet), does in fact work. They inherited it 10 years ago and have never used it. They just don't feel the need to. Like I said, we've got the time, we've got the soap, might as well just wash the dishes ourselves. Why not.

Volaré!

We all know the poetically cliche definition of insanity: doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. We also all know that I can be a bit insane… Insanely brilliant! Okay, mostly just insane. But once in awhile I'm smart enough, or stubborn enough, to have some success. Okay, my point: I'm going to the Galápagos! I only had to try about a dozen times, doing battle with online tickets, a bank that wouldn't authorize my card since it "forgot" where I was, and belatedly full flights with helpful suggestions re-routing me to San Francisco (tho not back again). Ugh. Qué horror. But (fingers crossed, knock on wood) I finally have a finalized ticket! As 'finalized' as I'm going to get, anyway, before setting foot on the islands. Phew! I'll be there Nov. 1-6, since we have a week off of classes for a mid-term break. (So don't expect any great works of literature that week, but you can be sure there will be lots of stories the following week!)

Juan Carlos has been trying to sell his car, and has been in the "final stages" for about 2 1/2 weeks. He finally did sell it, though, and now he's working out the details to buy one from somebody he knows. He's been driving the potential new car around the last couple of days - a big white pickup. But before the sale is final, he doesn't want to change anything, so he's been driving around with a car that smells like perfume, has Disney princess stickers on the dashboard, and has lipstick and hair clips (he's bald, mind you) in the cup holder. Kind of an amusing image...

The latest in the Rachel vs. Bureaucracy chronicle is uncertain, but hopeful. Our visas needed to be registered with the local immigration office. And they should have been finished yesterday, though we haven't been in contact with Daniela, so we don't know for sure yet. I won't bore you with all the details of the backing and forthing and other arbitrary hurdles and requirements that exist simply because bureaucratic principles breed like bacteria. Just roll your eyes, sigh, pity us a little, and you'll get the gist.

Last Saturday we went to a fun little bar a little ways out of town (in the ritzy suburb). It was pretty fun! There was music playing REALLY LOUDLY, but the atmosphere was laid back. And they had a drink on the menu with Pop Rocks, the fizzy exploding candy! But they were out of Pop Rocks. As well as about half the food menu. That part was kind of a bust. Around 11 they had a live band that played covers of lame American 90s music. And they played it poorly, even considering what they had to work with. So we left after that...

Thursday nights are Live Jazz Nights at one of the coffee shops around the corner, so I met up with Lucas, Rebecca (the exchange intern from Germany), and Lucas's host parents. It was wonderful! Sitting outside on the patio on a fresh, breezy night, sipping a fruity frappe, and listening to interesting, well-performed versions of familiar jazz standards. What a moment.

Yesterday afternoon Lucas and I headed over to the Artisan Market downtown. It's basically a warehouse the size of a city block filled to the brim with booths that start out slightly smaller than the average broom closet, and then get filled with everything you could imagine - cheesy T-shirts to 'traditional' Andean outfits, knockoff Nike sneaks to woven leather sandals, Panama hats in every shade and style you could imagine (remember that Panama hats are actually from Ecuador!), carved wooden manger scenes, clocks, cigars, jewelry... it was a bit overwhelming, actually. Neither of us bought anything, but we generated some ideas for next time. We're going back for a 'field trip' with one of our classes, I think. We also made a circuit of the As-Seen-On-TV market across the street, which I had seen but Lucas had not. Ha ha ha... It's a sight to behold. In the evening, I went out with Juan Carlos to visit a couple of his friends, then out to Las Peñas (the big hill) for a bit. The first place we tried, which he really likes, didn't have live music, which he was hoping for, so we kept looking. We ended up going to a total hipster artist bar, with scenes and random objects painted on every wall, table, and stool, and some of the coolest yet most bizarre light fixtures I've ever seen. The music was eclectic to say the least, but it's a funky little place and we had a lot of fun! I'm hoping to go back there, or to other places around Las Peñas - at night, it turns into The Place To Be, and you can find a joint to fit any style.

Today, October 9, is Guayaquil's Independence Day, so I'm headed over to a neighborhood party for the afternoon. Not sure yet where the festivities will lead, but it should be fun. Independence Day here is much less of an official, patriotic holiday like in the U.S. (In fact, they don't even celebrate a national Independence Day!) But it's more or less an excuse to meet up with friends, dance, explore the city, have fairs and festivals, everything! Here goes!

Just a Typical Day

Just as a heads up and brief summary for all my readers out there (ha ha ha), the past couple days here have been a little crazy. Yesterday some of the police force went on strike to protest a law the president had passed earlier in the week. Now, details are a little fuzzy about what exactly the law entails, and whether it does in fact disadvantage the police, or if that was a misunderstanding. But some riots broke out, and the police had set up barricades of burning tires in some parts of Quito and Guayaquil. At one point the president ventured outside to talk to the protesters and was targeted with tear gas, after which he spent the rest of the day in a hospital clinic. That night he left and the protests seemed to more or less break up, but everyone is still keeping an eye on things. Schools remained closed today (though that didn't effect me personally, as I have Fridays off), but they reopen on Monday. It seems that things are returning to normal. Information has been inconsistent at best, so it's hard to know exactly what did go on, but we are all safe. I hope I don't scare anybody, just thought you all should know.

On a much lighter note, the other exchange students and I went out and made our own fun today! We decided to meet up for lunch along the major road through the neighborhood where 2 of the 3 of us live. I was almost certain that I knew how to get to Amanda's house, but those of you who are aware of my sense of direction will already be giggling. Yes, of course I went the wrong way. Several times. And then couldn't call her. And we ended up having to go all the way back to my house to use that phone to tell her we were on the way and to please please please just meet us along the main road. So, over an hour after we originally planned to meet up, we finally did! (I wonder if I could have a microchip compass and GPS installed in my right earlobe?) We went to lunch at a place called Rachy's, right across the street from my block. It was great! (But no, that does NOT mean anyone can start calling me "Rachey" - it is still an abomination of a nickname.) Everything tasted like it had been grilled outside over a hardwood fire (and I just had rice with lentils, and a sort of bean soup)! It was delicious. Then we dropped off Amanda at her house - I can get there now! - and Lucas and I walked over to the San Marino mall. Needless to say, my feet are DONE walking for today. We wanted to see a movie that opened today called Prometeo Deportado (literally, Deported Prometheus). It's an Ecuadorian film years in the making. The story is centered around a group of Ecuadorians whose passports are confiscated and who are then sequestered in a sealed waiting room for the remainder of the movie. Parts were quite funny, with the uniquely Ecuadorian personalities and humor; other parts were sad because of the plight of this group of immigrants who had done nothing wrong; other parts were downright terrifying when the "society" takes a Lord-of-the-Flies turn. It is a fascinating movie, and a shocking but intriguing modern view of all humanity from a distinctly Ecuadorian perspective. If you have a chance to rent or borrow it, do it! It was outstanding.

Well, it's been a crazy couple of days, and I have a test and a presentation to prepare for next week, so other updates will follow, just not tonight! :) All my love to everyone out there, and stay out of the streets!