Sam in Ecuador 2009

Last post! (links to pictures)

2009-08-23T21:31:00.000-07:00

Galápagos pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2580853&id=8649013&l=934737f2c4

Internship pictures (at dry forest reserve):
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2601029&id=8649013&l=dcb6008db7

Peru (Cusco, Puno, Machu Picchu) pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2608444&id=8649013&l=8bab5d2c3a

Internship and Peru

2009-08-05T21:37:00.000-07:00

6/5/09
Time had passed so quickly during the course of the semester that it still felt like January after we had returned from the Galápagos, and now that I am back in Madison, the presence of June seems baffling. Even more weird is typing in my blog while sitting in my parents’ living room chair, instead of in my orange-quilted Quito bed. I have 1.5 months of South American experiences to write about, but I will try to condense it as much as possible so that I can spend more time with my dog Clancy, Honey Bunches of Oats, and Lost.
On April 16th, seven of us left Quito for the coast, where we would perform our month-long internships at the Lalo Loor dry forest reserve. Transportation to the bus station proved difficult yet again, as the taxi driver decided to circumnavigate the city on the way to the station (apparently going through the city would not have been a wise idea since it was rush hour…but it probably would have been faster than my taxi driver’s 50-minute route). I arrived at the bus station exactly one minute before the bus’s scheduled departure time, and during the last part of the taxi ride I struggled to control both my bladder and my urge to shout at the driver to drive faster. Fortunately, everyone made it to the station on time and we had a pleasant seven-hour ride to the reserve. After dinner and a short tarantula hike, we were eager to hop into our mosquito-netted beds at 9pm.
For our internship, TJ, Rita, and I were assigned to obtain a census of the howler monkey populations in the reserve. With no primatologist on site, we often felt lost and helpless, and it wasn’t until the last week and a half until we felt like we were actually collecting useful data. Initially, much of our time was spent hiking through the trails to count and identify any monkeys we saw, reading the mountain of scientific papers given to us by Joe and a primatologist grad student, and swearing at the monkeys for not being more visible (they seemed to prefer the highest branches of the highest trees). When we could see them they would usually mill around in circles through the canopy, making it almost impossible to get accurate counts of group sizes. Howlers were particularly frustrating to count because within large groups, they would often branch off to form subgroups, so obtaining accurate group size estimates seemed impossible. We often became so frustrated that we considered changing our project topic to “spider web abundance” since we walked into hundreds of them daily. My eyes quickly became accustomed to carefully watching for both monkeys and spider webs, but even with the added caution I could still run my hands through my hair at the end of the day and feel a substantial amount of silky web material. Whoever was the leader of the hike would normally carry a “spider stick” to remove or displace webs that stretched across the trails, but if I was walking behind Rita my head would still be in danger of getting caught in the webs. Walking behind TJ, however, was the best position since he is a head taller than me and would receive the brunt of the webs.
After about two weeks with our sketchy methodology, Joe and Cath visited us at the reserve and we were able to use a GPS in the field. We decided to get accurate GPS points of the trail system and to determine the home ranges and feeding tree locations of various monkey troops, and to create a map with all this information for the reserve’s Ecocenter. We also decided it would be more feasible to determine a density estimate of the monkey populations, and then to extrapolate to determine the overall population size. To do this, the three of us each walked a separate trail (the reserve contains three main trails) three times per day (so that we had each walked each trail every day), and we counted the total number of groups and individuals that we saw on each trail. We divided these numbers by the total area sampled (with help from the GPS) to obtain a density measurement, and then we were able to estimate the total number of groups and monkeys in the reserve…which I think was around 160. We also determined the age- and sex-ratios for a couple of the largest groups.
Despite the small setbacks and the huge spider webs, living in the forest for a month was one of the best experiences of my life. Especially during the last week or so, when we were in the field for up to eight or nine hours a day, we were able to see a plethora (Wordmaster word!) of monkeys, insects, toucans, parakeets, coatis, snakes (TJ found a dead, headless coral snake one day and wrapped it around the showerhead; when I took a shower that evening I was frozen in place for a good minute before mustering up the courage to poke it), and even an ocelot. And the banana pancakes that our chef Bigote made were delicious.
While we weren’t counting monkeys or reading articles, we’d spend our time helping the other students with their work in the gardens, taking naps on the wooden floor of the guesthouse in between hikes, reading books (I finished three!) and playing the Ecuadorian card game “Cuarenta.” During one of the weekends, we travelled to Canoa, a beach town an hour and a half south of the reserve. The main things I remember from that weekend were the unbelievably low hostel prices ($3/night), the frozen chocolate-covered bananas sold at a small tienda a block away, Eric’s botfly’s willingness to show half of its body, the town’s complete lack of monetary change (I tried buying a forty-cent assortment of bread and pastries, but the store owner wouldn’t accept my fifty-cent piece because he didn’t have change), and Luis and Tito, two locals who told me that I would legally be able to vote the following day if only I could quickly find an Ecuadorian girlfriend. The best part of the trip was the ride home: it was election day, so public transportation of any kind was virtually impossible to get ahold of- all buses coming into the town were literally overflowing with people. Limbs were hanging out of the windows, and doors couldn’t even shut because the buses were packed beyond capacity. One man motioned for all six of us to enter his bus, which had about two cubic feet of free space, so we declined his offer. Finally we decided that hitchhiking would be our only hope of getting back to the reserve that day, so we began walking out of the town and flagging down any passing vehicle. Somehow the six of us crammed into the back of a man’s pickup truck (which already had a huge BigWheel-like child’s bike in the back), and as he drove 80+ mph north, we were packed in so tightly that we used each other as human seatbelts. Occasionally the driver wouldn’t see speed bumps in the road and we would subsequently bounce a foot in the air, but the real thrill came when the driver felt the need to accelerate even more in order to pass other cars on blind turns. Although much of the ride to the reserve was spent in the opposite lane of the highway, we did reach our destination 40 minutes faster than any bus, but we were thankful to be alive (and back in the presence of monkeys) nonetheless.
Excerpt from my field notebook: After working at the Primate Research Center in Madison and studying primates in the field, I’ve become fascinated with the animals. Going half a day here without seeing monkeys makes me feel unfulfilled. However, I’ve also had the thought of becoming a human doctor, and especially after reading such books as Mountains Beyond Mountains and Three Cups of Tea, I think I might feel guilty if I don’t dedicate my life to serving underprivileged humans. I thought that by studying abroad, I might be able to view my life from another perspective, but I don’t feel any closer to choosing how I want to spend the rest of my life.
For the last weekend, I traveled to Baños with Rita and TJ. It seemed like a small ditch was carved out of the mountains, in which the city was placed. Green mountains rose up from all sides, with waterfalls occasionally cutting through the forested slopes. Although small, the city contained streets bustling with bars, heladerías, adventure tourism services, street vendors, markets, and taffy stands. For the first time in almost a month, we were able to sleep in thick-mattressed beds without needing mosquito nets. The city is most known for its abundance of hot baths, so we weren’t surprised to see hundreds of people in line for the most popular natural pools. Apparently, the baths open around 5am, so people begin to line up around 3 or 4 in the morning (however, we were still recovering from our long days of hiking and monkey-watching, so we slept in). We decided to swim at a different, less touristy location instead (“Eduardo’s”). I feel like the hot tub literally sucked what remaining energy I had out of my body, because for the rest of the day I felt drugged. Overall, though, Baños was a great end to our internship experience.
The next few days were spent in Quito, as we worked on our presentations and papers. Saying goodbye to people on the final night of the program felt extremely weird, as I had spent the majority of the past 4.5 months with them. Memories of our experiences began to flood into my head: I remembered meeting Alex, TJ, Brenna, and Rita the first day at USFQ, and trying to memorize their names. I remembered Christine and Jamie singing the Nightman song from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia at the páramo, and Melissa and myself singing karaoke in La Mariscal. I remembered walking to school with Dave on San Cristóbal Island and discussing the coolness of seabirds and sea urchins. I remembered Winston being pushed out of Eric’s leg at Lalo Loor. I did not feel ready to leave Ecuador, but I found some comfort in the fact that I was staying another two weeks in South America.
The Peru trip began and ended in Cusco, the once-important Inca capital whose name means “navel of the world.” Surrounded by the Andes, Cusco is a bit higher in elevation than Quito and the climate is drier and cooler. We would often receive sunburns during the day, and then have to wear fleece jackets at night because of the precipitous drop in temperature. Our hostel was located on top of a steep hill near the central plaza, and the increased altitude caused us to gasp for air by the time we summitted the hill each night.
The narrow cobblestone streets and abundance of tourists milling around the plaza made Cusco appear like a mix between Granada (Spain) and a ritzy ski resort like Vail. Old stone buildings and churches from the 1500s lined the streets, dotted with small shops selling alpaca hats and sweaters of every color. For every tourist present, there were probably four street vendors in the city. Nobody could last thirty seconds in the main plaza without being bombarded by people selling cigarettes, paintings, day-long trekking passes, hats, or shoe shining offers (we all agreed that “no gracias” was the most common phrase we spoke in Cusco. By the end of the two weeks I think I probably became a slightly meaner person, since the vendors wouldn’t leave unless I ignored them or shouted “No” in the sternest, curtest voice I could muster). Everyone who works in the restaurant or tourism business is required to speak two languages, and although most chose to learn English as their second language, we found it easier to understand Spanish than their broken English.
We had planned on travelling to Bolivia (possibly La Paz), but after bussing to the Peruvian town of Puno on Lake Titicaca, we learned that U.S. tourists needed to pay an entry fee of $135, so we decided to just stay in Puno for a couple of days. Just 45 minutes off the coastline of Puno on the lake are Los Uros, floating islands made out of reeds that are inhabited by indigenous people who were fleeing the Incas many centuries ago. Their main source of income is tourism, but I couldn’t help but feel bad for them as the tourists from our boat stomped onto the islands and began taking photos while our guide showed them off (like cattle?). However, I was impressed by their ability to adapt to modernity while still preserving the traditional lifestyles. For example, I met one man (Johnny) who spoke five languages and travels to Puno once per week to study engineering at a school. After Los Uros, we headed to the natural island of Taquile, where we could see the outlines of Bolivia’s highest mountains in the distance.
Upon returning to Cusco (after a night bus ride full of swerves in order to avoid rock falls), we had a day to rest before embarking on the Inca Trail to see Machu Picchu. The sights were so amazing that I can only describe them as “indescribable,” so I’ve been considering just posting pictures (after all, a picture is worth a thousand words). I had no trouble believing that the four-day trail was a religious experience for the Incas who trekked it centuries ago, since I was continually humbled by the mountains and forest surrounding me. Also amazing was the food: challenged only by the cooking on the Galápagos boat tour, the Inca Trail food was the best we’ve eaten all semester, with most lunches and dinners consisting of 5- or 6- course meals. Somehow our porters were able to carry all of our food, tent material, sleeping bags, and a few people’s luggage on their backs as they literally jogged up and down the mountains during the four-day-long trek.

8/5/09
Two months later…I promised myself I’d finish this blog no matter how much time it would take. It’s strange to think that I will be taking classes at UW inside of buildings in about a month, especially after spending the majority of the past 7 months outdoors (working at Shorewood Pool is pretty much the best job ever). But anyways, back to Peru and the Inca Trail- for the last day of the trail, we woke up around 3:50am so that we could arrive at Machu Picchu for sunrise. I normally have trouble waking up before 7:30, but surprisingly I was up and ready to hike at 4. After about a 1.5-hour traverse across a mountain and a nearly 90-degree stairwell that stretched painfully too high (I considered setting up base camp on one of the stairs), we arrived at our destination (the Sun Gate, which overlooks the ruins that everyone sees in pictures and postcards, from a slightly different angle) with about 30 minutes to spare before sunrise. Our guide gave us a tour of the ruins, then we had an hour to explore by ourselves. Almost every aspect of the architecture seemed to reflect the people’s utter worship of the sun- light would enter certain windows at certain times of day, and placement of temples was based on the sun’s position at the solstices and equinoxes. We couldn’t have had a more perfect day- sunny with no clouds, and a cool breeze. Also, llamas roamed on the grassy lawns lining the ruins.
Although I had been living in the Andes for almost the entire semester, the scenery during the drive back to Cusco still made me wonder how such beautiful formations on the planet were made, and I added it to my own list of possible sites for the filming of the next episode of Planet Earth. We only had about 5 days left in Cusco before our return flight to Quito, and much of that time was spent exploring museums, monuments, artisan stands, and other nearby ruins (and we spent one day rafting in a chilly Andean river). The morning we left Cusco was the beginning of a 24-hour saga of travelling and four plane rides, but somehow I made it to O’Hare in one piece, with all of my luggage. In fact, my arrival at the Chicago airport couldn’t have been more perfect, since my family greeted me with boxes of Honey Bunches of Oats and bananas (there was even a bowl, a spoon, and a gallon of chilled milk waiting for me in the car). I didn’t experience too much reverse culture shock, probably because I had been used to forcing myself to be open to ANYTHING this entire semester, but the main thing that surprised me in the US was the presence of water fountains in the airport…free water??!! It was amazing. As was my entire experience. The end.

pictures

2009-04-15T00:09:00.000-07:00

Tiputini pictures:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2529983&id=8649013&l=96a1e72e2f

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2545193&id=8649013&l=ac525421ec

Spring break pictures:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2545224&id=8649013&l=263e7ceb54

Coast and Galápagos pictures:

-hopefully they will be posted within the next month! The internet's been a bit slow...

Spring break, the coast, and the Galapagos (I'm a bit behind)

2009-04-14T20:26:00.000-07:00

3/15/09

Spring break has come to an end, but just as I hadn’t anticipated its onset, I am not lamenting its finish. It was a great time, but we’re leaving for the coast the day after tomorrow (St. Patrick’s Day!) for a few days, and then we go to the Galápagos.

I spent spring break with Eric, Teal, and Melissa (we realized later that it was the same group of four who travelled to la Mitad del Mundo together during the first weekend of our stay in Ecuador), and we arrived in Cuenca after a ten-hour-long night bus. However, due to some miscommunication with the woman from whom we bought our bus tickets, our names changed to “Brick, Chal, Vanesa, and Sbam” for the remainder of the trip (those were the names written on the tickets… although I don’t know how the woman made those mistakes since Eric spelled out everyone’s names clearly). Unsurprisingly, I was able to fall asleep quickly and feel comfortable most of the way to Cuenca, but I always manage to sit directly behind passengers who make it a point to ride with their seat completely declined, so my legs felt a bit cramped at times.

Upon arriving in Cuenca, we found a cheap hostel (and shared a room among the four of us that was no larger than my single dorm room last year in Tripp Hall) and set out to look for breakfast. Since it was Sunday, 99% of everything in the town was closed, but we eventually found a market consisting of many aisles of fresh fruit and many aisles of huge slabs of raw meat. With most stores and restaurants closed and barely anybody outside on the streets, we were able to admire the city’s tranquility and external appearance. Our hostel was just two blocks from the central plaza, which was complete with tall trees (monkey puzzle, possibly?), park benches, and a fountain, and two cathedrals sat on either side of the square. Cuenca was one of the first cities in present-day Ecuador to become controlled by the Incas (sometime around 1500, I think), and it definitely has retained its cultural heritage. Much smaller than Quito, it was very easy and enjoyable to walk around (after doing the red titi monkey study, I keep wanting to say “locomote” instead of “walk”), and the lack of air and noise pollution, the crystal-clear river (except for an occasional dead dog rotting on a protruding rock) that separates the older section of town from the newer section, and the colonial architecture and cobblestone roads made me feel like we actually were living in the 1500s.

Although all of the museums were closed, we were able to see some ruins which were part of the Museo del Banco Central. The ruins consisted of some bath houses, large ovens, and agricultural terracing, and were at the site of the actual Tomebamba excavations. We also visited another set of ruins the next day at Ingapirca, and according to my guidebook, these two sites were “the hub of the northern part of the Inca empire.” After a two-hour bus ride through the bumpiest, curviest, seasickness-inducingest path I’ve ever ridden on, we arrived at Ingapirca and had an hour and a half before the bus had to take us back. It was interesting, but I feel like I may have enjoyed it more if our guide’s words hadn’t poured out of her mouth at an ungodly rapid rate, and if she had acted like she was actually enjoying her job. The main things I learned were that the Incas worshipped the sun and the moon, trapezoidal windows and doors were used to prevent destruction from earthquakes, and Inca is sometimes spelled with a “k” (Inka). I also learned how to say pebble, boulder, and cliff in Spanish during the bus ride home, since Teal (Chal) and I were teaching each other words with a geological theme.

The food in Cuenca was exceptional. Aside from the fresh fruit and bread that we bought in the market and various panaderías for breakfast and lunch, the dinners we ate were equally amazing. The first night, we ate at an Indian restaurant where we had the whole top floor to ourselves (I’m beginning to wonder if everyone hibernates on Sundays). We were directed to a lowered table that was just about one foot off the ground, and sat on cushions surrounding it. Magenta curtains dangled from the ceiling and draped across the room, and a glass chandelier hung from the ceiling above our table. We spent almost ten minutes admiring the room before even glancing at the menu. I had forgotten how much I missed Indian food, and when it arrived at our table it was as delicious or even better than I had remembered. I ordered a type of masala with many vegetables, but we all shared each other’s food (which may have been one of the reasons both Eric and I got a cold that started that night, and that hasn’t gone away yet. Another reason could be that we shared a bed for the two nights we stayed in Cuenca). The next night we ate at a Colombian restaurant and we all ordered arepas, a type of thick tortilla topped with vegetables, meat, or a mix of both. The arepa, plus the banana shake, plus the piece of chocolate cake I ordered from a nearby French café, made for a great multicultural meal.

The next morning we left for Peru. Everything appeared to be running smoothly until we got to the actual border. Filled with bustling people, colorful tents, noisy chickens, and persistent taxis, the border seemed kind of like Otavalo but without its charm or feeling of safety. After filling out immigration forms on the Ecuadorian side, we were directed to a side street and told to enter a car, which would take us to the Peruvian immigration building. We deliberated for a while and eventually decided to get into the car since we could all stay together this way, and we did arrive at Peruvian immigration and later the town of Tumbes (the first town after the border), but we paid way more than we were supposed to (including costs for gas for the driver) and afterwards we felt as if we couldn’t trust anyone. One minute we were told the cost would be a certain amount for everyone combined, and then later we were told that the cost was individual, per person. The driver tried to make us stay in the car longer than we wanted, and kept repeating how dangerous every other form of transportation was. After getting out in Tumbes, however, we were able to find a more trustworthy van that would take us to Máncora. We had heard from guidebooks and host parents that we were supposed to take a bus from one site to another, but we never saw any bus and this car seemed to be our only hope.

We finally arrived in Máncora around 8pm, about four hours later than expected, mostly in bad moods and dreading what the rest of our Peru experience would entail. This initial disenchantment disappeared, however, after that first night. Máncora is an obvious tourist town, catered to surfers and beach-goers from throughout the country and internationally. It consisted of one main street running north to south, lined with restaurants, hostels, souvenir shops, internet cafes, and various street vending stands. Mototaxis—small three-wheeled vehicles that seemed like a mix between mopeds and bike buddies—dominated the street. After our trouble at the border, it was refreshing to have locals willing to point us in the direction of recommended hostels and restaurants. We ended up choosing a hostel that was a five-minute walk from the beach (we decided not to stay in the beachside hostel whose owner had trouble answering our questions because his eyes and mind kept drifting back to The Simpsons on his TV screen). Aside from the dog, rooster, and mosquito that kept me awake for most nights, the hostel we stayed at was comfortable and accommodating. It was also a bit unnerving to wake up every morning to discover scores (I need to use that word more often) of red, nickel-sized insect bites all over our bodies, but luckily these never developed into anything more serious than a mild itch.

Waves on the beach were perfect for body surfing, and sometimes I would roll up well into the shore, only to be carried back down by the receding water into the foam of another wave. I was expecting the beach to be more crowded, being such a tourist destination, but I guess we arrived during the off-season because the sand and water were only sparsely-populated with other people. On our last day we travelled to Punta Sal, a beach forty-five minutes to the north of Máncora, which is supposed to be the “better” beach due to it being less well-known and less touristy. However, the waves were the same, the water was still warm (it was almost not refreshing to jump in…a few degrees colder would have been prime), and the sand was still ideal for digging holes and burying people. Spending a few days at the Peruvian beaches have made me realize a few things:

-No matter how much sunscreen (SPF 50!) I apply, I will get burned. I have accepted the imminence of skin cancer, and will try not to complain too much when it happens.

-Sunsets on the beach are one of the coolest things ever.

-Sitting on the sand makes me feel lazy, and even though I read a book during spring break (a rare feat for me since I’m pretty sure my reading speed is decreasing at a negative exponential pace) I felt like my body and my strength were slowly withering away. This is one of the only spring breaks in which I haven’t gone skiing in the Rockies, and I definitely missed it.

-Being sick sucks.

-Pelicans are cool.

-Avocado sandwiches, mangoes, and bananas are great lunch foods to eat on the beach.

-I need to double check that my swimsuit is tied tightly before attempting to ride a wave.

Vanesa had heard that northern Peru was known for its mud baths, so we planned on spending one of our days at one of these exquisite exfoliation sites. After a 30-minute mototaxi ride through rough, rocky terrain, we walked for another half an hour through thigh-deep streams and arid grassland until arriving at a small rectangular hole in the ground filled with dirty bubbling water. Our initial disappointment upon trekking so far just to come to a tiny hot springs was overturned when we realized that the bottom of the “pool” was composed solely of soft mud. We spent the next couple of hours covering ourselves in the mud and letting it dry- it felt liberating to sit in the sun without fear of worsening my sunburns that day. And of course a mud fight ensued.

The return to Ecuador from Peru proved to be much easier, since we talked with our hostel owners who set us up with reliable guides and transportation. We left our hostel at 7am yesterday, and I didn’t arrive at my house in Quito until 1:30am this morning. If I felt like sitting at the beach all day constituted laziness, then sitting on a bus for seventeen hours seemed like death. I probably move more in my sleep than I did during that day of travel- I burned so little energy that I wasn’t hungry at all the entire day. After a small breakfast, I ate a couple of bananas and about three potato chips throughout the day, and didn’t feel famished at all. The most eventful happening of the day occurred in the morning, when a man entered the bus to speak (actually, more like shout) to us about the harm of modern medicine, and how herbal medicine and eating better foods could cure such maladies as cancer, diabetes, baldness, and male sexual impotence. He was shouting for about forty-five minutes nonstop, using his handkerchief to wipe away sweat after the first five minutes, and I was confused since usually people try to sell a product or ask for money when they give speeches on buses. It seemed like a Snowball-esque propaganda speech from Animal Farm. Finally he pulled boxes of Viagra-like remedies out of his suitcase to pass around.

When I returned home to Quito, it was tricky at first to fall asleep since I had been in a state of rest for the past entire day, but I was able to obtain a few hours of sleep before waking up to catch a bus with the majority of the other students in my program to travel to Cotopaxi. The last time Cotopaxi erupted was in the late 1800s, and its peak towers as the highest in Ecuador at just under 5800m. In fact, the peak is the “highest” point on earth, due to the widening of the planet at the equator. I brought my guidebook on the bus to the volcano and enjoyed reading the part that urged travelers NOT to visit Cotopaxi if they have just arrived from lowland areas, such as the coast. The book recommended staying in Quito for at least a week before attempting to visit or climb Cotopaxi in order to adjust to the altitude…so I was hoping that my seven hours spent in Quito the night before (after having spent most of the previous week at sea level) would suffice.

Although Cotopaxi’s summit revealed itself through the intense cloud cover for only a few seconds at a time, the rest of the volcano and surrounding páramo countryside was muy chévere. The bus took us up to about 4500m, and then we hiked up the steep slope to around 4900 or 5000m. It was extremely satisfying to be able to wear a winter coat and touch snow, and we had fun sledding down parts of the mountain on our backs. The altitude was clearly causing me to move very slowly- I couldn’t move more than a few inches with each step, and I began to feel slightly dizzy if I moved too far without stopping to rest. I began to think some rocks in the soil were sparkly until I realized that the sparkles were actually all in my head. However, when I wasn’t moving, I felt fine. To summit Cotopaxi we would have needed to bring more professional equipment, and we also would have needed to start the trek at 1 in the morning (when the ice is more sturdy). Climbing only a few hundred meters was exhausting, and later in the evening, after we returned to Quito, my legs felt like they had just run three cross country races in one day.

4/10/09

Not only is today Good Friday, but it is also Emily’s Birthday Eve, as well as the first day in almost a score of days spent in the absence of sea lions. In effect, I am filled with mixed emotions: indifference, intense anticipation, and utter desolation, respectively. However, returning to Quito had its benefits- I missed my host family and dogs, and the climate here is much more sympathetic to my fair-skinned morphology. Although I have had so many homes this past semester, I still feel rooted in Quito. And Tiputini. Also, it was refreshing to wake up to my alarm clock instead of arising to the noise of the hoarsest, most piercing and persistent rooster that exists on this planet. (Seriously…I’ve never desired to kill an animal before, but my ideology may have changed last week.) But more on that later.

According to Carla, my host sister, eating meat and bathing oneself are forbidden during Holy Week, because apparently anyone who breaks these rules will turn into fish (I’ve committed one of those offenses already today and I don’t have gills yet, but after snorkeling through reefs almost every day for the past 2.5 weeks, I wouldn’t mind becoming a cool colorful fish). My religious ignorance has caused me to never observe Good Friday as a holiday, but I had heard that a huge procession would take place in Centro Histórico today. After accidentally forcing my host siblings Carla and Nicolás and their novios to accompany me downtown (I asked if I could go with them, even though they were never initially going to go), we drove

***By the way, my breakfast this morning may quite possibly rank as the number one breakfast I’ve had in Quito: a glass of naranjilla juice and a glass of a syrupy, mouthwatering banana milkshake, topped with a layer of thick foam. Although not the largest of breakfasts, the banana drink (almost more like an ice-less smoothie) epitomized all things banana, and almost brought tears of joy to my eyes. I quickly gulped down the naranjilla juice so that I’d have more time to enjoy the divine banana ambrosia.

--to the parade site and observed the strangest procession I’ve ever seen. The annual event draws thousands of people to Quito, both to participate and to watch. After struggling to maze through the hordes of observers on the narrow side streets and sidewalks of the Centro Histórico, we eventually found an area near the curb not yet congested with people. Watching the procession on the street was interesting in a “slightly less than horrifying” type of way. Participants dressed in long purple robes and cone-shaped headdresses that covered their faces (except for two eyeholes) marched slowly in groups of about thirty, some holding candles, others with crosses or pictures of Jesus. If it weren’t for the purple, I would have been convinced that the KKK was at large in Quito, but even though I was able to maintain my composure, their headdresses and blank stares seemed to suck out some of my initial excitement. In between groups of these cucurachos (I think that’s the right word…it kind of sounds like the Spanish word for cockroach) were men dragging wooden crosses on their shoulders. For over three kilometers, these men appeared to be mimicking Jesus’ suffering as close as possible- as if the crosses weren’t heavy enough (some required four people to inch it up the street, each person with sweat pouring down his face and a look of despair in his eyes) and the carriers’ backs weren’t strained enough (their torsos were parallel with the ground, and we could see the pain in their faces), some participants had chained their feet together so that their movement was further impeded. Supposedly, those who have sinned the most over the past year try to induce higher degrees of suffering during the Good Friday procession, and indeed some people had donned actual crowns of thorns and looped barbed wire around their bodies, tight enough to draw blood. One man was crawling on his knees, so exhausted that he couldn’t move over a few feet without stopping to rest. Others laboriously lumbered up the street, every few steps whipping themselves on the back with a stinging plant. As they passed by us, their raw, red-tainted backs, polka-dotted with welts, showed evidence from continual whippings. However, not everyone in the procession appeared to suffer- the street was also interspersed with small bands playing religious melodies, veiled women singing songs of penitence, and many normally-dressed men, women, and children who were participating just to complete the 3K walk.

After watching for a little over an hour, we decided to go eat ice cream and stuff ourselves with seafood (seriously, I counted 13 plates of food on our table at one point. For five of us). Just a bit ironic.

Now onto the happenings of the past 3 weeks (some of which I am still trying to grasp in my head):

Almost three and a half weeks ago, I woke up at 4:30am to fly to Manta, a city near the coast. The great thing about all flights that we’ve taken in Ecuador is that they always serve food (even for the twenty minute flight to Coca, when we were heading to the rainforest). From Manta we chartered a bus to Alándaluz, an ecolodge near the coastal fishing town Puerto Lopez. As the bus squeezed itself through the narrow entryway to the lodge, palms and other lushly green plants greeted us, and Alándaluz would soon become one of my favorite living quarters in Ecuador. The buildings were interspersed along the beach (further inland from the sand, but not so far that we couldn’t see or hear the waves), allowing space for gardens of various beach plants between the connecting boardwalks. The bamboo buildings complemented the landscape, looking completely natural next to the palms that towered above; some of the rooms jutted out from tree trunks or under branches, appearing as giant tree houses. We students, however, camped in tents outside the lodges (I’m still not sure why we camped on the hard dirt ground instead of the soft sandy beach which was about a ten second walk away). Overall, Alándaluz exuded a feeling of modern primitiveness (that makes no sense), and it is a place I will definitely visit when I return to Ecuador (not sure when that will be). Most importantly, the lodge owned a ping pong table, and I enjoyed learning first-hand that playing table tennis can actually provide a workout. For a couple of hours one night, I busied myself playing against another student, our bus driver (who I could swear holds the rank of Ecuador’s National Champion), and another lodge patron (who was dripping with sweat and begging for mercy after our match…just kidding).

Actually, the most important feature of Alándaluz was the beach itself. Previously, I had never considered myself a beach person- I’m not a big fan of heat, and they make me feel lazy. After a walk along the beach with our professors, however, my attitude toward beaches began to change and I now cherish a new appreciation and awe for both sandy and rocky coastlines. The diversity of life that beaches support and each organism’s adaptations to the stressful beach environment have caused me to respect beaches and coastlines as unique ecosystems. Each plant has a unique survival method to help cope with rooting problems, excessive sun exposure, and salt. Wandering through sandy shores and clambering along rocky intertidal zones, I was impressed with the amounts of snails, crabs, polychaete worms, barnacles, limpets, and anemones that colonized the areas, and regretted being so unobservant prior to this trip. Life is everywhere. The first night at the lodge, I sat on the sand under sky laden with thousands of stars, inhaling the warm salty sea breeze, watching the ghost crabs scuttling and foraging along the coastline, and listening to the cyclical ebb and flow of waves softly pushing themselves into the shore before the crabs chased them back. I felt guilty for thinking so negatively about beaches before.

During our three-day stay at Alándaluz, we visited many nearby beaches to explore their intertidal zones. The rocky intertidal zones at Montañita and Los Piqueros de Patas Azules proved exciting because at low tide, a rogue wave would appear every so often, causing jets of water to suddenly spray upward from the cracks between rocks. We sometimes left these sites nearly as wet as when we would leave beaches after a day of swimming. Among other sites we visited included Machalilla National Park, a dry forest adjacent to a sandy beach, and the Puerto Lopez fish market. After learning about the plight of fishery conservation in a lecture the previous day, wandering around the fish market seemed a bit disheartening. A few sharks were lined up along the shore as bycatch, but they were valuable nonetheless. In no more than thirty seconds, we watched in awe as a fisherman gutted one of the sharks in its entirety. One of the thresher sharks was pregnant, and sadly a few unborn sharks were found inside. Most of the world’s fisheries are unsustainable, and even in a small town like Puerto Lopez it was difficult to imagine how the community would be affected once fish levels decrease so much as to make them impossible to find. So many of the town’s inhabitants depend on fishing as their livelihoods, yet at the rate that fish are being taken out of the ocean, these men will be jobless relatively soon.

Back at Alándaluz, our time was usually occupied with less demoralizing activities. Aside from sitting on the beach at night or playing volleyball or ping pong, one night was spent trying to exorcize a botfly from Christine. Mosquitoes act as vectors for botfly eggs, and Christine must have gotten bitten by one during our stay in Lalo Loor because they generally develop into large enough larvae to notice in about four weeks (Eric, AKA Brick, also had two botflies, which he named Winston and Taña, but he refused to try to extract them until a few days ago, when he decided it was time for Taña to leave. He is still enjoying a coexistent friendship with Winston, who is slowly eating his leg). Botflies establish themselves by hatching on the skin and burrowing inside as a maggot covered in tiny backwards-pointing spines which allow penetration but not extraction. So, before the maggot pupates it must be killed in order for it to lose its spines (so that it can be squeezed out of the skin). For a good two hours one night, some students and Cath smoked a total of seventeen cigarettes and blew the smoke onto Christine’s leg, sometimes focusing the airstream with a straw, trying to smoke the botfly to death (apparently, this technique worked with only five cigarettes on a student in last year’s program). However, Christine’s maggot was a tough one, and refused to die. Even with four people squeezing on every side of the wound, it wouldn’t budge. So, after coating the mosquito bite with nail polish remover and then applying duct tape for a day in order to suffocate it, we determined that the botfly had died, but it was un-removable because it had broken into a few pieces during the squeezing episode the night before. Unfortunately for Christine, the remains may have to be surgically removed when she returns to the U.S. to prevent infection.

After three nights at the ecolodge, we bussed south to Guayaquil, where we stayed in a friendly hostel near the airport, but removed from the crowded dangerous mass of people and buildings that make up the center of city. Murders are not uncommon and theft is frequent, and most Ecuadorians who don’t live in Guayaquil hate it. However, judging from our hostel (Hostal Iguanazú) and the one-block radius around it that I observed, it seemed pleasant enough to spend a couple of nights. The hostel was actually very enjoyable and if I ever return to Guayaquil, I wouldn’t risk going anywhere else. Complete with a ping pong table and a pool, Iguanazú gave us no qualms about staying inside both nights. After riveting rounds of the Animal Game (which consisted of jumping off a short rock overhang into the pool and acting out an animal called out by someone in the pool…eventually less animal-like nouns were shouted out, such as “slice of pie” and “Fourth of July”) and Jenga, we watched Sweeney Todd and Babel, the latter of which I will add to my top five favorite movies. A very thought-provoking film, it enhanced my slight scorn for American tourists, and Americans in general. In such problematic situations that straddle national borders, it is impossible to place the blame on any one person, yet Americans are quick to identify themselves as the main victims, and efforts to solve the problems seem to place too much importance on the U.S.

The first morning after we arrived at the hostel, we took a bus to La Reserva Ecológica Manglares Churute, a mangrove reserve. Our guides were local Ecuadorians who were extremely friendly and knowledgeable, eager to answer any questions we had. In general, ecotourism guides here seem to be friendlier than guides in any other field (such as that guide who gave us a halfhearted tour of Ingapirca, outside of Cuenca). Along the river in the reserve, prop roots and pneumatophores—pencil-like roots of black mangroves that stick out of the ground—lined the coast, and even though I had never experienced a mangrove ecosystem, I was expecting even larger, more tangled thickets of roots. Mangroves are definitely interesting to learn about because of their ecological and economical implications, and I will admit for the first time this semester that learning about them in lecture was more interesting than seeing and experiencing them (by the way, lectures in Ecuador are different in so many ways from lectures in Madison. I’ve felt drowsy a couple of times here, but I haven’t fallen asleep once during class [whereas in Madison, I’d feel accomplished if I went a day without falling asleep in a lecture]. A note was passed around during a fish lecture here that described some differences between class disruptions in the two countries: in Madison, class would occasionally be disrupted by fire alarms, power outages, or bad weather, whereas in Ecuador class has been disrupted by monkeys, geckos, sunsets, and not power outages [after a two second pause when the power went out in Alándaluz, Joe shone a flashlight on the whiteboard and Cath continued her lecture as if nothing happened]).

Perhaps the tour dragged on because of my position in the back of the canoe near the motor, where I couldn’t hear the guide or Cath speaking. To assuage our boredom, my bench partner (Jamie Rose) and I played Categories with the theme of transportation. We spent the rest of the canoe ride, as well as the bus ride back to our hostel, coming up with any type of method to transport a human from one location to another, and we’re pretty sure we mentioned all of them. Some of the best include pole vaulting, riding a shopping cart, barhopping, an explosive volcano, snowballing, and plate tectonics.

The following day, we left for the Galápagos. What a great place. Just like with Tiputini, the islands are 100 times more amazing than any way I try to describe them. Although the morning began terribly (the cereal ran out at Iguanazú, and the cheesecake at the airport tasted rubbery), anticipation of our proximate destination filled our minds with nothing but excitement. As our plane descended to land, the bright blue ocean contrasted heavily with the dark orange barren land of Baltra Island, which the U.S. used as an air base during WWII. Almost completely opposite from the rainforest, black lava rocks and desert-like soil covered the arid land in the Galápagos. Upon exiting the plane, I immediately noticed the higher intensity of heat from the sun, roasting my face and beckoning for me to wear a hat.

As we descended the steps on the bay to a dinghy, which would take us to our tour boat, two sea lions and an iguana lazily lounging on a bench greeted us. As I recall this image, it seems funny how amazed we were at this sight (no one wanted to get into the dinghy and leave these animals behind. We fervently took photos, as if we would never see a sea lion again), since we would see literally hundreds of these animals over the next weeks.

Once on our boat (the Guantanamera, but half of the students were on the Eden), we realized that it was a first-class yacht and couldn’t wait for the week-long tour of the islands to begin. Aside from the bed-sized rooms, life in the yacht made me feel aristocratic, as it was definitely catered to wealthy old whites. Welcome cocktails were handed to everyone later that night, our towels and bathroom cloths were washed and folded (sometimes into animal or landscape forms) every day, and the bartender laid out intricate hors d’voeurs (how do you spell that?) on top of garnish-laden silver plates every morning and afternoon. However, we made sure to discourage ourselves from turning into these rich American stereotypes by frequently taking naps on the floor of the upper deck (even though lounge chairs and our beds sat nearby), playing the Animal Game off of the decks on the boat, and refusing to sleep in our air-conditioned cabins (sleeping outside under the stars was much more enjoyable) or shower much (after all, trillions of gallons of saltwater surrounded the yacht).

Our guide first took us to Bachas Beach on Santa Cruz Island. As my brother Jeff had warned, wildlife flourished everywhere on the islands. Just as an insect occupied almost every leaf at Tiputini, every rock in the Galápagos contained an animal. Bright red Sally Lightfoot crabs and the black juveniles scurried and jumped from rock to rock, hiding in tiny crevasses whenever one of us would approach. Black, scaly marine iguanas lounged on any open rocks, taking in the sun and occasionally slipping into the water to feed on algae. Smaller lava lizards scampered across the sand and rocks, further inland than the iguanas, and so abundant that I feared stepping on them if I didn’t place my feet carefully. Seabirds stood still on the rocks or trotted along the waterline along the beach, occasionally poking their bills into the sand whenever they found something tasty. And the sea lions deserve their own paragraph.

Many beaches (probably the majority) in the Galápagos were coated with colonies of sea lions, consisting of a beach master and his harem (and many juveniles, too). As gray or dark brown bulges of blubber, they would bask in the sunlight with their eyes closed and whiskers pressed against their cheeks, almost always in contact with others in their colony. Every once in a while, they would lift up their head and lazily look around, checking out the rest of their neighbors, and emit a noise that sounded like a mix between a deep growl, a bark, and a belch (when the infants and juveniles vocalized, it sounded more like a lamb bleating). Often the sea lions would lean on their front flippers and stick out their chests (the seal stretch!), and either sit still and look smug, or appear to test the flexibility of their necks by rolling them backwards until the tops of their heads touched their backs. Sea lions are perhaps the most awkward creatures to watch on land- after returning from a hunt in the ocean, they would scramble out of the water and seem to inchworm (more like “meterworm”) themselves to their destination, usually trampling over any who were sprawled in the sand in their way (the trampled ones would sometimes raise their head and produce an irritated bark, then promptly return to the same position and continue resting). They would clamber over jagged rocks on the shoreline, wiggling their entire bodies and using their front flippers to stretch and grasp rocks ahead, and waddle their hind flippers forward until their backs curved (the cat stretch!) before moving forward again.

However, when sea lions entered the water they became different animals, filled with acrobatic grace and agility. They soared through the water with slight undulations, flipping and spinning, and sometimes jumping out of the water and immediately diving back in without a splash. Their sideways-balloon-shaped heads and long, rounded muzzles, combined with their lazy yet regal attitudes on the beach, combined with their extremely playful, curious personalities in the water make me believe that they are related to dogs. It was difficult to restrain myself from scratching one behind its ears (we had to maintain a distance of 2m from all wildlife on the islands, but we often infringed on this restriction, and often the sea lions would approach us). Snorkelling with the sea lions will remain as one of my favorite memories of my study abroad experience, as they often inquisitively approached us with the clear intention of playing. Sometimes they would propel themselves straight at me, and right before collision they would dart to either side or dive below. When we would mimic their actions by diving down and performing flips, or swimming upside down, they became even more excited and performed more flips and twirls underwater (by the way, only the females and juveniles were “playable”- if I saw a male swimming directly at me, I would probably pee my pants—which wouldn’t be noticeable in the ocean—and try to sprint for shore, since they are humongous and territorial). Often, a small group of sea lions would follow our class around as we performed marine field activities.

Aside from sea lions, numerous colorful fish and marine invertebrates also entertained us while snorkeling. I had never been a big fan of fishing (I opted to continue reading a book and eat grapes instead of help my dad and brother reel in a monster musky when I was a wee little boy), and although I still prefer most other activities to fishing, snorkeling with the fish was truly eye-opening. I’m pretty sure that some boasted colors that I didn’t know even existed, some so bright that they appeared electrically activated. Light penetration often affected the perceived color of many organisms- a sea star on the bottom of the ocean floor looked black until we brought it to the surface, where its body was actually crimson with white dots (red light cannot penetrate very far after touching the surface of the water). Too bad my camera wasn’t waterproof. After just two days in the islands, we made species lists of everything we had seen and it was well over two pages. Swimming with white-tipped reef sharks and golden cownose rays was a grounding experience, as both are enormous and beautiful creatures. I was disappointed not to see any hammerheads, though, so I bought a T-shirt with one on it instead.

But back to Bachas. Interspersed with thickets of tiny crushed shells and exoskeletons, the sand felt floury beneath my feet and pleasantly warm. Looking out to sea, either from the beach or from the Guantanamera, something continually caught my eye- boobies dive-bombing the water, flying fish skimming the surface, pelicans floating on the waves, sea lions hunting/playing/dancing elegantly, pufferfish blankly drifting about, frigatebirds riding the air waves from the boat just three meters above. That evening, we anchored in a channel between two small islands, both basically untouched by humans since their creation five million years ago. We were seeing what Darwin saw.

In all, our tour introduced us to ten islands of the archipelago, each surprisingly starkly different from the others. The landscape color varied among islands (green sand, orange clay, black lava rocks) as did the vegetation and animal life. Large prickly pear trees with their fat brown trunks and wide, rounded pads dotted the blood-colored Sesuvium-rich Plazas Island, while green sand lined with black mangroves blanketed the otherwise rocky cliffs of Floreana Island. As with other environments I’ve visited this semester, many of these islands appeared to have the potential to host dinosaur life- often, I would eagerly glance up from my field notebook and hope to see a pterodactyl soaring above with the frigates, or groups of raptors trotting through the prickly pears. While looking for pterodactyls, I had to be careful not to step on any organism- the creatures have virtually no fear of humans, since there has been no need for fear. Conservation efforts have been protecting life on the islands for about fifty years, and even before then human contact has been minimal. People are only allowed to walk on clearly marked trails, and each time we re-entered our tour boat, we had to wash our sandals/shoes in order to prevent the spread of sand/seeds/invasive species between islands. These strict policies contrasted greatly with Tiputini, where I think I spent more time off-trail than on (after all, titi monkeys don’t observe human trail systems, so why should I?).

A note on boat life- waves kept the boat rocking almost continually, so self-stability became an issue, especially when walking through the open, uncluttered upper deck where only chairs and tables could break a fall. While trying to walk from one side of the boat to the other, everyone appeared to be walking exactly like Johnny Depp from Pirates of the Caribbean. A couple normal, forward steps would all of the sudden be followed by a slow sideways step, then a few short and fast backwards steps. Even on land, we could still feel the swelling of the ocean, and often had trouble balancing motionless on two feet. By the end of the week, we had become so accustomed to this swaying motion that we felt awkward on land, like turtles on their backs. Boat life did allow us to bond as a group, however.

Our boat became “the pirate ship,” and consequently we each had a pirate name (mine was Bootleg Thirds, since I apparently return to the food counter to receive third helpings very often), while the other boat became “the billionaire yacht.” A couple of nights into the cruise, the boats converged for a party, and without planning, members on each boat dressed up as their namesakes.

As the number of days in the boat drew to an end, the sites increased in coolness. Bartolomé Island provided some of the most amazing scenery I’ve ever seen, with its volcanic slopes and craters, and its towering, stark rocky outcropping. Genovesa Island used to be the top of a volcano until the sides collapsed, so now it is a horseshoe-shaped island with steep rocky slopes and very deep water in the middle (along with a family of dolphins). At Rábida we swam with White-tipped Reef sharks.

Our week of boat life (which felt more like a month, since we had experienced so much of the Galápagos) finally came to an end, and our homestays on San Cristóbal Island were about to begin. After three boat rides and four bus rides, we arrived at GAIAS, the university formed by USFQ. With beaches enclosing the town and the rest of the island from all sides, San Cristóbal exuded a feeling of tranquility unmatched by any of the other islands. In general, the island’s inhabitants were kinder and led simpler lives than people from the mainland. I immediately felt more comfortable with my Galápagos host family (consisting of a mom, dad, an 11-year-old sister, and two sharpies [correct spelling?]) at a much faster rate than I was able to become comfortable with my Quito family. For example, during the second night on San Cristóbal, I arrived to the dinner table shirtless without feeling any embarrassment (partially because of the heat, and partially because my host mom had taken all of my laundry the day before and left me with only my swimming suit [unfortunately it rained for the next 4 days after my clothes were taken, so I could only wear my swimming suit during that time]), whereas in Quito, I still feel like I should be fully-dressed and wear shoes and socks to every meal.

Crime rate is clearly low on an island of such small size, and my host mom told me that she always keeps the door to the house unlocked. At first, I was concerned when I saw runners out at night, but then I realized how incredibly safe the island was. Walking home from GAIAS (about 20 minutes) at night without any safety concerns felt refreshing. Speaking of running, I finally found a low-altitude area to run. Although I had to wake up early enough for the temperature to be cool enough to run (there was no such temperature), the low altitude made my lungs feel enormous- no longer did I have to inch my way up hills and gasp for breath at the top. However, the diminutive size of the island prevented me from finding any new routes after the first two days.

After a week without lectures on the pirate ship (we did learn how to identify fish, though), the learning began en masse at GAIAS. With our research projects and one to two 2-hour lectures every day, we barely had any free time. Unfortunately, that meant that I only saw my host family for one or two hours every night at dinnertime. However, the marine biology and conservation lectures were extremely interesting, and my research project (we studied the effect of wave exposure on urchin spine length) allowed me to snorkel every day (although, one of our snorkeling sites was also the site of the sewage pipeline, which apparently had a leak during our data collection times. The water did seem a bit mucky). During our first time snorkeling in the other, “cleaner” site, I felt a lump in my pocket about two minutes after hopping in, and with horror pulled out the Ziploc bag that held my camera. Unfortunately the bag contained a hole. I spent the next week trying to dry out the camera as much as possible by leaving it under a light bulb and covering it with rice, but the damage was too great and it no longer works. At least the memory card still works, though, so the pictures from the boat tour were salvaged. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt stupider in my entire life.

One of my favorite parts of the island was the panadería a few blocks down the hill from my house. With fresh, sweet bread baked daily, the panadería beckoned me to stop there every night. Eventually, the owner began to expect Dave and I (the other student who shared a room with me in the house), and invited us into his home to see his humongous collection of Emelec (Guayaquil’s soccer team) paraphernalia. A true fútbol fan, he had his favorite team’s name inscribed on his gold-plated teeth, and every square inch of his house was covered with Emelec T-shirts, posters, mugs, or even beer cans. Everyone on the island knows of him, and he has hence adopted the name “Emelec.” Dave and I were definitely his most valuable customers that week.

One of my least favorite parts of the island was the roosters with altered biological clocks. We could never sleep past 6am without being woken up by quite possibly the most annoying noise ever, and sometimes we were woken up as early as 3am. One night, a rooster who seemed to be two inches outside our window decided it would be a good idea to blast his vocal cords at 9pm.

Just as we had a free day after the exam at Tiputini, we had an extra, stress-less day in San Cristóbal in which Joe and Cath took us snorkeling at León Dormido, a huge rocky cliff structure about an hour off the coast of the island. Hands-down the best snorkeling we had experienced. The vertical cliff dropped straight down into the water, and was covered by corals of every color. Fish abundance was not as high as in previous sites, but the fish complemented the radiance of the underwater rock walls. Hopefully I will be able to return to the Galápagos someday, and visiting San Cristóbal and León Dormido will be my priority

Tiputini

2009-03-07T15:04:00.000-08:00

2/12/09

Just finished packing about 30 seconds ago for the rainforest trip. Although I haven’t slept much the past few nights (because of an exam on Wednesday and a ton of assignments that were due today), I probably won’t be able to sleep much tonight because I’m so excited about Tiputini and its ungodly amount of wildlife. Hopefully I’ll be able to experience something unimaginable, such as being surrounded by a herd of peccaries that will try to trample me unless I climb a tree (or a stump), or swimming with anacondas down the river, or becoming accepted into a family of woolly monkies. Also, we have to be at the airport at 6:30am so I’ll have to wake up earlier than normal. Speaking of sleep, I’ve been having some interesting dreams this week even without taking those malaria pills (Mefloquin?) that are supposed to give you nightmares…actually, the entire time I’ve been in Ecuador, my dreams have been slightly more vivid and grotesque. Por ejemplo, in one dream a volcano in Quito was erupting, but instead of feeling panicked, everyone was filled with sorrow because we all knew that we were going to die from the radiation emitted by the volcano (the volcano in my dream acted more like an atom bomb than a volcano). As I was running around trying to say good-bye to everyone, I got a nosebleed and I knew my end was near (apparently, radiation causes nosebleeds). Frantically, I ran down a hallway in search of my brother and sister to whom I wanted to say goodbye, but when I opened the door to their room, it was empty. Then I woke up. But the freakiest thing was that as I was taking a shower that morning, I got a nosebleed. Radiation! Glitch in the matrix!

I’d like to take a moment to make one complaint about my stay in Quito so far. I really like my host family, but they must think that I have the stomach the size of a marble because they serve me enough food to satisfy a small rodent. Actually that’s a lie…I think I just eat a lot. I have been perfectly content with cereal for breakfast for the first month of my stay (since I can control how much I eat, which usually averages to around five bowls), but a few days ago there was no cereal waiting for me on the kitchen table in the morning. In its place were a glass of juice, a glass of chocolate milk, some fruit, and some bread. That food is all delicious, especially when the bread is dipped into the chocolate milk, but I had to raid the refrigerator afterwards in search of more food. Today, my heart sank when I didn’t see any cereal in the kitchen for the third day in a row. My breakfast was actually downgraded to juice, chocolate milk, and one roll of bread. An infant could eat more than that. To make matters worse, the clean water jug in the kitchen has been waterless for over twenty-four hours. I’ll have to resort to poikylohydry to obtain my water from now on. Dinner always tastes exceptional, but I am usually left feeling like I could continue eating afterwards. Sometimes I sneak back down to the kitchen after my parents go to bed and eat a banana and/or slices of bread. I am jealous of all of the other students who say that their host families overfeed them.

I am in severe need of sleep, so I’ll bullet-point the rest:

- after hours of searching, I booked a flight to Peru and a reservation for the Inca Trail.

- During the cab ride home from USFQ (normally I take the bus, but with all the bookings I didn’t leave until 10:30, 1.5 hours after the buses stop running), I learned from the driver that for a crime such as murder in small, nearby towns, the penalty is being doused in gasoline and lit on fire.

- I’m taking less clothing/luggage to the 17-night long trip to Tiputini than I took to our 7-day long trip to the dry forest.

- When I went to the Teleférico with my host brother two days ago, we stopped to pick up his girlfriend at her restaurant on the way, and she gave me oreo ice cream. I was happy. Then we found out that the Teleférico closed almost two hours before we arrived. I was sad.

- We went to a nearby amusement park instead. On one of the rides I was reminded of the time in Nicaragua that an amusement park ride started moving while the door to the ride wasn’t closed and I almost fell out. But this one was safer.

I’m out!

3/3/09

I’m back! There is no way I will be able to describe how truly awesome Tiputini was, but I will try nonetheless. After the first few nights there, I knew I wouldn’t want to do my internship anywhere else, and I can’t wait to return in April to study woolly or spider monkeys (still haven’t decided on the specifics yet…it kind of depends on what other primatologists/grad students will be studying there in April). I arrived back to Quito yesterday evening and was too exhausted to write anything, so hopefully that one night and day of life in Quito won’t taint or cloud over any of my rainforest memories (apparently, however, I wasn’t too exhausted to patronize La Mariscal last night with some amigos).

Transportation to and from Tiputini couldn’t get any more complex. Everything ran smoothly, and Tiputini would probably be a 3-hour-long drive if it weren’t for the mountains and remote environments we had to cross, but travelling there took around 10 hours. Starting promptly at 5:58am, I took a taxi to the airport, a plane to Coca, a bus to the Napo River, a boat down the river to a petroleum company, another bus to the Tiputini River, and another boat to the station. I was kind of mad we never got to ride any llamas or escalators, my top two favorite modes of transportation.

The Tiputini River alone was one of the major highlights of the trip. When we arrived, the river was almost 10m higher than normal! We couldn’t tell that the water level was abnormally high (since we hadn’t seen the normal level), except for a few treetops that poked out of the flowing river along its edges. The water level remained high for most of our stay, until a few days before we left, when it dropped about seven meters in the course of two days. After long days of hiking through the jungle or tracking down titi monkeys, it was always refreshing to jump off the docked canoes into the river. The river flows to the east, eventually emptying into the Napo (I think), but there always seemed to be many “microcurrents” that would pull us in random directions, and often I felt like I was engaged in a game of human bumper cars. It wasn’t uncommon for me to be travelling in circles from whirlpools while others were riding a current rapidly downstream. A few times, we would float down the river with lifejackets (they were required) alongside a canoe, and it reminded me of Adventure River at Noah’s Ark except the current felt much faster and the sights weren’t as drab- we would often see many types of birds, monkeys, and caimans. During our floating sessions, as a group we would always try to see how long of a human chain we could make by having the first person grab tightly to a protruding tree branch, and only once were we able to build a chain longer than twenty people before someone’s grip slipped off the preceding person’s feet. And sometimes the tree branch broke. Since it was impossible to make any progress by swimming upstream, we had to swim sideways (toward the shore) in order to get anywhere, and it was hilarious to watch people swimming as fast as possible toward a newly forming chain since they had to start sprinting well upstream from the site of the actual chain. When the water level dropped, there weren’t as many tree branches or trunks to hang on to, but there appeared to be more underneath the murky surface of the water, and screams of pain usually meant that, if not piranha, a log was submerged in the vicinity. However, the organism that scared most of us (especially the guys) was a small type of fish that is attracted to nitrogen emissions. It has spikes that are pointed in such a way that help the fish enter the gills of other fish, but make it impossible to pull out. Apparently, there have been cases where boys have urinated into the river from the shore, and the fish sensed the increase flux of nitrogen and lodged itself into the boy’s urethra. I’ll probably have nightmares about that for the rest of this semester. I’m exhausted again, so I’ll have to finish this tomorrow.

…and by tomorrow, I meant in four days. It is now March 7, 2009, the first day of my spring break. This is the first year in which I haven’t been desperately anticipating the arrival of spring break- I don’t feel like I need a vacation at all, since this entire semester has felt like one giant vacation. I am learning a ton, but since it’s mostly outside of the classroom with friendly, funny people, I don’t feel like I’m doing work (except on Thursday, when I worked non-stop [excluding time spent eating lunch/dinner and watching my screensaver, which is set to show random pictures that I’ve uploaded during my trip so far] on a project involving a presentation and a paper from 9am until past 5am the next morning. I was so sleep-deprived when I woke up 1.5 hours later, that I think part of my brain had withered away- during the bus ride to the university, for some reason the outside scenery looked unfamiliar and I almost began to panic that I had taken the wrong bus. As I was about to ask the driver to let me off, I noticed a familiar sign outside the window, and then sat back down, feeling like an idiot).

Back to Tiputini. Actually, our experience began in Coca, as we were waiting for the canoe to arrive to take us down the Napo. The restaurant/café where we waited for the canoe seemed like a zoo, with squirrel monkeys, a saki monkey, toucans, parrots, and coatis roaming around the limited amount of grass and trees that the restaurant provided. There was also a baby anteater in a cage that looked way too young to be separated from its mother, a young toucan with sparse but matted feathers that seemed to be moaning in distress, and the parrots’ cages were filled with excrement. The monkeys only had a few short trees to use as their home, and living conditions for all of the animals appeared quite unsatisfying. However, the squirrel monkeys were very curious with the new visitors and we enjoyed seeing who could get the most monkeys on their bodies at the same time.

Canoeing/bussing/canoeing again to Tiputini allowed us to witness the transition from urbanization into primary rainforest, but the travel proved exhausting, especially since I had barely slept at all during the preceding nights. Since none of the above modes of transportation contained headrests, sleep was impossible and passing over the slightest wave in the river or bump in the road would cause minor whiplash. After we disembarked the canoe and stepped onto the wooden staircase that leads up to the station from the shore (the majority of the staircase was underwater; we only had to ascend about eight steps to reach the top), we immediately noticed the diversity of life (which is probably unmatched by any other place on earth), especially from the brilliant colors and variable sizes of the insects. Many trees, shrubs, and bushes surrounded the dining hall, but upon closer inspection we could find at least one insect on almost every leaf.

For our first three days at the station, we broke into three groups and rotated through activities, which included a hike, waking up before dawn to travel to a canopy tower to watch birds, and hiking to a different canopy tower and walkway. During the hike, we saw three monkey species (spiders, woollies, and squirrels). As I was moving to get a better view of the spider monkeys, I learned that it is better to watch where you step before stepping there. My eyes were fixed on the primates at the top of the canopy, and after a few steps, my right foot descended about three feet lower than where the ground should have been, and I still didn’t feel solid ground beneath my boot. I had fallen into a hole that had the exact diameter of my foot (if I had stepped one centimeter further in any direction, I would have avoided falling all the way in), so my right leg was almost completely underground while the rest of my body struggled to figure out what happened. My main concern was that it was a giant tarantula lair, so I struggled to free myself from the abyss before the arachnid inside would pull it down further. I would later learn that the rainforest is filled with holes like that one, and they are usually made from peccaries or armadillos for sleeping dens. Later in the hike we ate lemon ants.

Future hikes produced similar eye-opening experiences, yet the primates were always the most amazing animals to watch. I only saw the spider monkeys one other time before we headed back to Quito, but their long, slender bodies and eerily human faces will always be engrained in my memory. The woollies were one of my favorite species to watch, not only because they were easy to see (they normally didn’t mind human presence, but if they did, they would act curious or aggressive and approach us, instead of fleeing away because they were frightened), but also because of their body shapes. Their hair looked as if they had visited a poodle groomer since it was so puffy and free of mats or snarls. It reminded me of Clancy’s hair, and I wonder how thin and fragile the monkeys would look like if their hair got wet. However, their bodies are very muscular, so getting wet probably wouldn’t make much difference. Watching them move was also incredible. To get from one tree to another, it seemed as if they would leap forward and fall as long as it took to grab onto the next branch, as if they didn’t plan where they would land but rather do it spontaneously. Sometimes they would freefall for almost five seconds, and after gracelessly grabbing onto the landing branch, they would casually locomote to their destination. It was easy to tell if woollies were close by because of the loud sounds of canopy trees quivering under the monkeys’ weights. If they were feeling aggressive, they would climb down towards us a bit and shake branches. Sometimes, the juveniles would try shaking branches that were almost bigger than them, so the branch didn’t even move. The golden-mantled tamarins were also enjoyable to watch since they didn’t seem to mind people either. Like the squirrel monkeys, they travelled in large groups, providing us with long periods of entertainment. Saki monkeys, from a distance, look more like really hairy, dark-colored house cats and it seems like they would overheat easily. However, the long hair may aid the sakis as they leap through the air to adjacent trees. During our stay I also saw more squirrel monkeys, a night monkey, capuchins, and a pygmy marmoset, which could easily fit inside the palm of my hand.

During the last week of our stay, we all broke into small groups to carry out mini research projects. With two others, I studied red titi monkey behavior. We observed a family of three titis for three days in order to determine when they were most active during the day, when they foraged the most, and what composed the majority of their diet. The family that we followed around was habituated to humans (the adult male had been wearing a radiocollar for about five years), but their preferred habitat is in what seemed like the most tangled, vine-infested area of the rainforest so they were often concealed from our sight. At one point, the vines and lianas were so dense that moving through them reminded me of the “spider web” at the ropes course…except it was a spider web from hell, since it was three-dimensional and the holes I had to move through were often smaller than the circumference of my head. Also, there were many actual spider webs that seemed hidden until I walked into them- luckily I had no run-ins with the “5-minute spider.” To move forward fifteen feet, it took me almost half an hour, and by that time the titis had moved far out of sight. The other days of data collection were less frustrating since the understory was less dense. Although their home range is small, we would return from the field exhausted every afternoon because most of our time was spent straining to see the individuals.

Although we didn’t expect to find valid results in our project (behavioral studies often require at least 80 hours of observation…we had probably a total of five hours), it was interesting because actual primatologists, grad students, and field assistants were also at Tiputini conducting similar studies. In fact, one of the grad students let each of the members of my group (including me) shadow him in the field for a day. He also helped us track down the titi monkeys every morning. After the three days of our data collection, I would see titi monkeys in my mind whenever I closed my eyes…kind of like when I would see the structural formulas of certain compounds after long nights of studying for chemistry tests.

Aside from the monkeys, the food at Tiputini is also worth mentioning- it was delicious and plentiful. For breakfast, there would always be a main dish (such as pancakes, or a ham/egg sandwich), and then CEREAL. With the immediacy of cereal and the duetting sounds of the titi monkeys, I couldn’t imagine a better way of waking up each morning. Fruit was always set out in the dining hall throughout the day and I enjoyed grenadilla for the first time (an orange covering on the outside, with fruit on the inside that looks like frog eggs). Perhaps most importantly, the station provided us with peanut butter, which most of us hadn’t eaten since we arrived in Ecuador. Perhaps because of that reason, almost everybody became addicted to it (I seriously think it was spiked with nicotine), and eventually I was putting peanut butter on my fruit, in my rice, in my cereal, and on almost every other food I ate except meat (although peanut butter and turkey sandwiches are very tasty). This addiction turned dangerous when the jars would start to run low, as everyone wanted their share of the condiment (is it a condiment? Judging by how much we ate during our stay, peanut butter should be placed in its own food group. The cooks began to look irritated by the second week of our stay whenever we asked for it). A table of eight people could easily empty a jar in the course of one meal, so I learned to strategize my consumption by obtaining a huge spoonful or knifeful as soon as the jars were placed on the tables. The station receives food replacements every Monday and Friday (those are the only two days canoes go to and from the station), so sometimes on Sundays and Thursdays the peanut butter supply would be deficient and we would eat meals without it. Everyone was visibly aggravated during these meals.

I was surprised about many aspects of the rainforest when I actually experienced it first-hand. As its name suggests, I thought that it would rain almost every day, but in fact it only rained for a few days of our stay. Strangely, after two days of constant rain, the running water at the station ran out. As one student put it, “the rain sucked all the water away.” Humidity was always high, but there was a lot more sun than I had expected on the forest floor. I also thought that there would be more emergent trees, a shadier/extremely humid understory, more vines and lush plants filling every inch of space and soil outside of the trails, and hordes of insects (especially mosquitoes) swarming us day and night, but these assumptions were all false. Mosquitoes were not a problem at all, and after taking malaria pills for two days, I decided to stop taking them (I was supposed to start taking them a few days before entering the rainforest, but I had never bought any, so I borrowed some from another student when we arrived at the station). However, if I feel flu-like symptoms any time within the next year, it may be malaria.

After dinner, we usually had our evenings free, so night hikes were a popular activity. Both the sounds and the sights were unique. During one hike, we turned off our headlamps and let the pitch-blackness engulf us- it was both awesome and frightening. I couldn’t imagine the two nights that two scientists spent in the rainforest after a plane crash (our professors told us about the unfortunate crash- the plane was carrying one of the most well-known botanists and ornithologists in the world, and both ended up dying from exposure and wounds caused by the crash). Many frogs, insects, and large mammals are nocturnal (never saw a jaguar, though), as well as giant spiders. At one instance, I turned to enter a trail, and when my headlamp illuminated an overhanging leaf, I suddenly came face to face with a huge wolf spider. However, I maintained my composure and didn’t even wet my pants. I’m definitely becoming more accustomed to large spiders, especially tarantulas. There were three times when tarantulas were found in people’s cabins (one was on the top bunk of a girl’s bed, one was on someone’s porch, and one was in the bathroom of my cabin- after Melissa found that one, I found her meditating in the library, and we made plans to sleep in shifts later that night), yet I always managed to sleep peacefully…except for when one of my cabin-mates woke me up by crawling his fingers in a very spider-like fashion across my face. There was also a tarantula who decided to join us for dinner one evening in the dining hall, and it just so happened to be someone’s birthday. Right after the tarantula was spotted, the lights went out and we all had to sing Happy Birthday in nervous, quavering voices as the candle-lit cake was brought out to the tables. My feet didn’t touch the floor until the lights came back on, and even then I was cautious about where I placed them.

Speaking of lights, my headlamp began flashing its “low battery” light during the second week of our stay. To conserve battery life, I tried to only use my headlamp when it was absolutely necessary (such as during night hikes, early morning hikes, and for checking under my sheets each night for tarantulas). The walk from the lecture room to the dining hall for dinner was composed of blocks of wood one after another, which always were muddy and slippery. Most of the path is lighted, but a few places had burnt out light bulbs, so walking on the path with possible tarantulas and poisonous snakes lurking nearby at night in flip flops without a headlamp was difficult. However, I tried to assure myself that there are also disadvantages of using a headlamp, such as attracting an occasional moth to fly into my face.

When we didn’t do night hikes after dinner, sometimes we would play intense games of Pictionary (involving words such as existentialism and neuromuscular junction… “Jackal! Jackal! It’s a jackal!”) or listen to Courtney read excerpts from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. During the last few nights, however, we would have to work on our projects and study for the field and written exams. One night included a very intense review session, in Jeopardy fashion (I’m surprised no fights broke out). After one night of studying, I walked back to my cabin alone and could have sworn I heard a jaguar growl, but it was probably something completely unrelated, like a leaf rustling…but my mind wanted it to be a jaguar. Unlike the large cats of Africa and Asia, South American jaguars aren’t known to attack humans. An Indian biologist once told Joe (my professor) that studying in the New World “is nice, because I don’t feel like prey.”

Speaking of prey, I read Michael Crichton’s Prey during our stay.

Lectures were held in an air-conditioned room adjacent to the library, and unlike lectures at UW, I stayed intently awake for all of them. It is so interesting to learn about plants, animals, and their ecological interactions when they could be seen right outside the windows. The lecture on primates was interrupted by a group of woollies that was climbing through the trees right outside the classroom. I’ve been continuously disappointed back in Quito when I look up in a tree (of which there are very few) and see no monkeys.

After our exam, we had a free day in the rainforest and it was incredibly refreshing to become active again after about 48 hours of studying. I had been having many dreams about running and racing, so it was especially nice to be able to put my running shoes on the morning after returning to Quito (but that was one of the only good things about returning, since we then had to work on our papers and presentations). But those are finished now, and spring break has started. I’m leaving on a night bus to Cuenca in a few hours, and after a few days there I’m going to the beaches of northern Peru, and for the last day of spring break a bunch of us are going to Cotopaxi. After that, we have one day of class in Quito, and then we leave for our coast/Galápagos trip until mid-April. Then we have a few days in Quito before our internships begin. So I think I only have about five nights left in Quito.

Pictures will come soon! Next week. I'm in a rush because I haven't started packing yet and I'm supposed to meet some friends to leave for Cuenca in 18 minutes.

Lalo Loor and beach pictures

2009-02-12T15:07:00.000-08:00

Otros fotos:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2516817&id=8649013&l=3041a

pictures

2009-02-11T15:28:00.000-08:00

Pictures from the daycare center, Cayambe-Coca, and Antisana (páramo region):

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2516484&id=8649013&l=a12cf

Páramo and Dry Forests

2009-02-10T12:15:00.000-08:00

1/26/09

My run felt more like a swim this morning- it wasn’t raining hard, but it had been constantly showering throughout the night so many of the trails in Parque Metropolitano (I finally found trails to run [that was my ten thousandth word] on! However, in order to get to the park, I had to ascend what felt like two miles in elevation, so it felt quite painful) were completely saturated with ankle-deep water.

In class we learned about soil, which was more interesting than I thought it would be, although I still think monkeys are cooler. After class, I had lunch, went to the daycare, checked my email and skyped my roommate back at USFQ, went home, ate dinner, tried to read, watched some Australian Open, and now I’m ready for bed.

1/27/09

My house is currently out of cereal (and water is also almost lacking) and I don’t know what I’ll do if the situation doesn’t right itself before tomorrow morning for breakfast. I’ve been thinking more about my internship possibilities, and I’ve narrowed it down to two locations- one in the rainforest (Tiputini) and one in a coastal dry forest (Lalo Loor). I’ve heard only good things about Tiputini from people who have gone there as it is composed of pristine rainforest, containing the most plant/animal diversity in the world. Under the guidance of a grad student (a Wisconsin alum), I would probably study group spread in woolly monkeys, but I’m not sure about the specifics. Numerous other research projects will be going on, so I’d probably be able to learn a lot about various topics during my stay. Cons include an additional cost of almost $400, the lack of spoken Spanish (although there may be some Spanish-speaking guides at the research station), and tarantulas.

*I just remembered that in my post describing my weekend in Otavalo and Cuicocha, I had mentioned that the clouds at Laguna Cuicocha were covering Cotopaxi. I lied. Cotopaxi is in the opposite direction from Quito. The clouds were actually covering up Cotacachi...I think.

If I were to do my internship at Lalo Loor, I would study howler monkeys (probably something involving group dynamics, since the monkeys at Lalo Loor haven’t been studied before). Spanish would definitely be spoken there, and since a couple of high schools are located near the site, Joe (my professor, and co-founder of Lalo Loor) said that students could probably be hired to act as field guides/assistants, so not only would the community be involved, but I’d also be able to speak more Spanish. I probably wouldn’t have to pay any additional costs (since a base fee for the internship was already included in the program costs). However, there probably will not be any primatologists on site so I probably wouldn’t learn as much about primatology as I would at Tiputini. Great I just checked in my species guide and found out that tarantulas live in Lalo Loor too.

Today I went to a fútbol game at the Olympic Stadium, and although Ecuador lost 0-5 to Paraguay, it was still fun to watch. Also amusing to see were the numerous airplanes that were descending for a landing. The placement of Quito’s airport in the center of the city makes for some intense sights.

1/28/09

Thunderstorms are cool (in fact, they’re one of my interests on Facebook), but when lightning seems to be striking twenty feet away and causing deafening blasts of sound that leave me wondering if I’ll ever hear again, I get a bit irritated. Especially when I’m sitting in a room alone at the University in the evening and the power goes off, and everything is pitch black except for the light emitted from my laptop screen—do I leave the laptop open, and risk being an exposed target for robbery (or worse, attract insects), or do I shut it, and become blind in the darkness?! While I was debating this in my head, the lights came back on. But the internet didn’t work anymore.

1/29/09

I didn’t sleep much last night, and I won’t tonight either (we had a “quiz” that was more like an exam because it took 1.5 hours today, and tomorrow I have to wake up early to go to the Páramo, a high-altitude ecosystem), but maybe I can sleep a little on the bus.

Today was my last day at the daycare, and not only will I miss the children, but I will also miss stopping en route at the Panadería to buy rolls of delicious, sweet bread that never costs over 60 cents. It was also our last day of normal classes at USFQ, since the “travelling” phase of this semester program begins now. After our two day trips this weekend, we go to Lalo Loor on Monday for a week. Then I think we come back and have class at USFQ for two days before heading to the rainforest for 2.5 weeks. Then maybe another day or two of USFQ class, and then the Galapagos. I already feel like I miss Quito.

My day ended by me checking my email and receiving a message from Facebook, asking if I would accept a friend invitation from my mom (biological, not host)…which I will awkwardly confirm.

1/30/09

Reasons why Ecuador is so cool:

- We went to Cayambe Coca today to study plants of the Páramo, and it was yet another ecosystem that should be documented on Discovery Channel’s Planet Earth. Only one tree can survive above the treeline (oxymoron?), called Polylepis, and they are short, gnarled trees with multiple layers of crusty/flaky bark, causing everyone to believe we were intruding upon gnome habitats. At altitudes higher than those acceptable for Polylepis, the short shrubs came in reds, blues, and greens, and their seaweed-like structure made the land look like an underwater reef scene…except without the water.

- With my dinner today, I had two glasses of colada morada, another Ecuadorian delicacy consisting of strawberries and pineapples ground up in mora (like a blackberry) pulp. It’s normally consumed during Día de la Muerte in November, and baby dolls made of bread are dipped into the purple drink to symbolize dead ancestors. And then the bread is eaten. But my host sister likes it so much that we were able to drink it (with bread slices) today.

- It’s hard to take my eyes off the window of the bus when I’m travelling anywhere (except within Quito) since the landscape is so diverse.

- María cookies.

- Bananas are always ripe.

The Páramo was definitely one of the most unique environments I’ve ever seen. Yesterday during class, Joe and Cath warned us about the dangers of altitude sickness, and how blue lips and slurred speech could foreshadow death. We were only at these lethal altitudes (13,800ish feet- under half the size of Everest) for about eight hours, so no one felt affected. At the higher altitudes (without Polylepis), the air was thin and frigid, yet there was 100% humidity and the ground had a bouncy quality due to the dome-shaped cushion plants. Unsurprisingly, it was cloudy again and so we couldn’t enjoy the surrounding snow-capped mountains. At the end of the day we went to some hot springs and probably caused severe damage to our bodies by jumping in a freezing river (seven seconds was supposed to be the amount of time to spend in the river…I’m guessing because if it were any longer, we would turn into ice and receive permanent brain damage) before entering the hot pools.

1/31/09

What makes humans so morally important? I completely respect those who work for other people, such as social workers and people involved in community development—I’m thinking of becoming a doctor myself—but people aren’t the only organisms on which we should be focusing our energy. Millions of species, both plants and animals (and bacteria!), have existed before us and therefore have more of a claim to Earth than we do, since we’ve only existed for about one second on the “geological clock.” The book Ishmael by Daniel Quinn has made me think differently about our own species, and although I read it a few years ago, I think more and more about it as time passes. I feel like we cannot justifiably call Earth “our planet.” Not only should our efforts be directed at improving humans’ quality of life (indeed, by improving humans' lives we can therefore spend more time and energy on conservation), but nature as well has an equal voice in demanding our attention. Also, talking gorillas are cool.

We went to the Páramo again today, but this time to the side of the mountains opposite from yesterday’s excursion. It was generally warmer and clearer, so we were able to get short glimpses of Antisana, the volcano covered with glacier, from which Quito gets most of its water. Joe and Catherine always seem about as impressed (or even more so) with the landscape and wildlife as we are, and it’s refreshing to have professors who absolutely love their jobs. The environment was again dominated by bunch grasses and cushion plants, which were dotted with lamb carcasses (which make up the majority of the diet for an Andean bird called the Cara-cara). We saw an Andean condor!

It was a student’s birthday so we went to La Mariscal (I really would like to explore some other bars around Quito= the city is huge. It’s not like La Mariscal is the only place to go out on a weekend). Actually, his birthday was on Thursday but Joe and Cath urged us not to drink the night before going to the Páramo since hangovers apparently feel like death at high altitudes. After calling the taxi service about fifteen times and receiving only busy signals, I finally got through and had one sent to my home address to pick me up. However, after a frustrating half an hour of waiting (it never showed up), I decided to start walking from my house and flag down the first taxi that passed me. I saved $2 from walking partway! However, I was a bit nervous since another student from my class had told me a few days ago that a local person was murdered in the early evening last weekend. I do feel quite safe in my neighborhood, though.

2/1/09

I just realized that no one here has been talking about Groundhog’s Day (I'm guessing that my dad is hyping it up in Madison right now). I guess it’s not celebrated in Ecuador…but I wonder if they have their own holidays, such as Llama Day. Or Pollution Day. Or Drive-Really-Fast-And-Honk-Your-Horn-When-You-Approach-An-Intersection-So-That-Other-Cars-And-Pedestrians-Will-Know-That-They-Need-To-Dive-Out-Of-The-Way-In-Order-To-Avoid-Death Day (that holiday is celebrated 365 days per year).

We had a day off today, so I was able to sleep in, dodge some cars during my run, eat breakfast (there was only a cup of chocolate milk, a cup of mango juice, and two slices of bread set out for me on the kitchen table. Although that is all very delicious food, it in no way counts as a satisfying breakfast, and I was starving for the rest of the morning until lunch) and then have lunch at Crepes and Waffles. Dinner was almost as dissatisfying as breakfast, but not because of the food (I had two cups of colada morada, bread, and fig ice cream). Instead, during dinner my host mom’s sister gave me my second dance lesson of the semester, and I’m sure I looked way more awkward than I felt.

We travel to Lalo Loor tomorrow, a coastal dry forest that’s a seven-hour bus ride away. I’ll be laptop-less for a week, and since I’ve become dependent on typing the events of the day on a keyboard, I will either write sparingly in a notebook or not write anything at all while I’m away.

2/8/09

…PANDA WATCH! I’ve always wanted to begin my blog with that, but I’ve never had the chance for it to make sense and I don’t think I ever will.

We returned to Quito a few hours ago, and I’m surprised at how tired I am right now. I had gotten about seven hours (or more) of sleep each night at Lalo Loor (Monday-Friday), and I slept decently at the beach at Punta Prieta (Friday-Sunday), and I was asleep more than I was awake for the bus ride home today (speaking of the bus ride, anyone who could have witnessed the bus’s passengers would have thought that we were all recovering from some type of battle: some people were rubbing entire aloe plants on the reddest most sunburnt parts of their bodies, some were applying ointment to deep gashes they had received when the riptide carried them out to areas where waves smashed them against large jagged rocks, and others were passed out, completely hungover and probably still drunk from the night before), but I feel exhausted nonetheless.

Inasmuch as I’d like to blame my sleepiness on hours upon hours of pure physical activity, I heretofore proclaim that the time spent at the beach was definitely one of the laziest weekends of my life (notwithstanding one of the weekends during which I was suffering with pneumonia, but even then I had enough strength to climb up and down a two-story tall snowbank, spider monkey style, on the capitol square and then go sledding down my street…also, words that are composed of three different words are questionable). But seriously. I swam in the riptide-infested and nearly-uncomfortably-warm ocean, took naps in the hammocks hung underneath thatched roofs, and ate fresh fruit and/or seafood for every meal. I can’t wait to run tomorrow morning, to cleanse myself of this doldrums-like sense of idleness. The most physical activity I performed over the entire weekend was when we all had to get out of the bus and find gravel to place on top of the driveway, and then help push the vehicle uphill. Rain from the previous night had made the trail a bit muddy. The rain also had managed to penetrate the tent I was sharing with two others, and since we didn’t have a tarp underneath, I woke up with my feet dangling in a standing puddle of water that was slowly growing. The water had only accumulated on my side of the tent because the ground was slightly sloped, so I spent the next twenty minutes moving all of my luggage out of the tent (trying unsuccessfully to avoid dripping on and waking up my tent-mates) and to the area under the thatched roofs where the hammocks resided. I was thankful I had placed my camera and wallet on top of a pile of clothes the night before, instead of laying them on the ground.

But enough about the beach. The real reason we had our week-long trip was to experience and study the environment of a dry forest (which differs from a tropical rainforest by way of having distinctive dry and wet seasons, and therefore not supporting as much growth). My life is now almost complete, since I was able to observe wild primates (specifically, howler monkeys- not only did they almost urinate on us, but they also served as excellent alarm clocks, beginning their howls at 5:45am sharp [in order for my life to be totally complete, I need to eat another banana/nutella waffle at Crepes and Waffles, watch the latest season of Lost, and learn how to flutter-tongue on my clarinet]). Other types of wildlife we witnessed include many bird species, snails, insects, and tarantulas. During the first night we spent at Lalo Loor, the professors suggested we go on a “tarantula watch” on the trails, and I guess my willingness to fit in overcame my arachnophobia so I followed everyone outside. Within minutes we found our first tarantula, and about five more would follow that night. Although my heart was pounding like a jackhammer, I was surprised that I was able to see some beauty in the creatures. I was even able to touch one later in the evening without screaming….loudly. The biggest reaction I had in regards to tarantulas actually resulted from an oral stimulus, when my professor mentioned a “tarantula hawk” (which is a large wasp-like insect that preys on tarantulas), and upon hearing those words I immediately tensed up and dropped my camera.

Our days at Lalo Loor generally began with a wake-up call from the howler monkeys before or during sunrise, followed by breakfast (which included the best yogurt I’ll probably ever get to taste) and morning activities which usually involved some type of data collection of the plants or insects in the forest. The orienteering exercise was my favorite, and I hope to do a large-scale orienteering competition someday. The insect collection and identification activity was surprisingly enjoyable as well. After lunch, we would have an hour or so off (spent perfectly with a nap) before an afternoon lecture, and then dinner would be served around 6:00 or 6:30. Since there is no electricity at the visitors’ house, we would light candles and our living quarters appeared primitive yet romantic. Although we slept underneath secure mosquito nets (which were mostly to protect against insects that carry the fatal Chaga’s disease), during the first night I dreamt that tarantulas were crawling over me.

I think I just broke my host family’s toilet.

2/9/09

It had taken over a month, but today I finally received comments about my E=F♭ Einstein Theory for Musician T-shirt. I see people with instruments all the time at USFQ (unfortunately I haven’t seen any clarinetists yet- mostly guitars and violins. And I saw a trombone two weeks ago), so I’ve been slightly surprised that no one even offered a glance of recognition whenever I wore my prized T-shirt. But finally, during a bus ride this afternoon, a girl who had been eyeing me from her seat for a couple of minutes told me she liked my shirt, but before I could thank her for being so observant, she got off the bus at the next stop. The only piece of information I learned from her was that she was from Maryland. I think I love her.

Then, to my utter amazement, about thirty minutes later I received a similar comment about my apparel from a guy working at South American Explorers (a travel agency/clubhouse that I visited to inquire about Machu Picchu). I’ve been missing my clarinet a lot (after all, I’ve never gone over a month without playing- my four-week-long stay in Nicaragua in high school was the longest), but I’m still glad about my decision to leave it in Madison with my mom, who is supposed to be diligently monitoring the humidity of the case. I probably would have ended up with lung damage had I tried practicing at this high altitude, and there aren’t many good places to play anyway. My host family probably wouldn’t enjoy listening to finger and articulation exercises or Cavallini etudes since I rarely hear them listening to music (except one morning, I woke up to the sound of a melodramatic male opera voice whose every word was waterlogged with the widest vibrato I’ve ever heard- my host mom said it was to wake up my sister).

I saw my host brother Nicolas for the fourth time today, and so I quickly pounced on the opportunity to give him my gift from Madison (a UW Badger T-shirt). He doesn’t have to work tomorrow evening so he offered to take me to the Teleférico (a gondola that ascends Pichincha and apparently offers a great view of Quito).

Más fotos

2009-01-28T15:47:00.000-08:00

More pictures:

Otavalo: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2510676&l=9059d&id=8649013

Cuicocha: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2510692&l=79385&id=8649013

Week 3/Otavalo

2009-01-26T15:43:00.000-08:00

1/20/09

Happy inauguration day! In honor of the occasion, Catherine played Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech to start out our biology class, and then we were dismissed an hour early so that we could watch the inauguration on a large screen in the theater at USFQ (with all the other gringos). I’ve never been a very political person, but hearing MLK’s speech and watching the ceremonies on TV were pretty touching, and I’m very excited to see what will happen in the next four (eight?) years. To celebrate, a bunch of us went to La Mariscal tonight, and one of the best parts of the night was when I learned that a couple people live in the same general direction as me, so I was able to share a cab on the way back. I was also able to watch part of the Australian Open on TV at an Irish bar.

Mati had four puppies today, and I was particularly surprised because I didn’t even know she was pregnant. My parents aren’t too happy because the puppies are mutts, and so it will be hard to find homes for them, but hopefully I can take a few home with me. I seemed to be the only happy person in the house after hearing the news of the newborns.

1/21/09

About 80% of the students on this program are sick right now, and it’s probably only a matter of minutes until I get sick too at this rate. A group of seven or eight people went to a restaurant two days ago for lunch, and almost immediately after eating they all felt sick. One girl has had a bad cold for a while, and another developed a rash that she thinks came from a plant at El Pahuma. Two people got sick after going out last night. One girl has E. coli because her host parents didn’t purify her water, but I think she’s recovering. Two students had to leave biology class this morning because they weren’t feeling good, and three left their Spanish class later in the afternoon. Also, three people have been robbed so far. Either I’m really street-smart (not likely) or really lucky.

For lunch I had a pizza crepe from the university and an entire package of María cookies (about 40). Best lunch ever.

Every day, I become extremely tired at 3pm, which is right in the middle of the time I spend at the daycare. I always want to lay down on the mattress that’s sitting in the corner of the room, but there’s always about six passed out 3-year-olds piled on top of it, so I would feel kind of awkward shoving them aside. To keep myself awake, I try reading stories to the children who are also awake. Today one of the girls asked me why I can’t speak Spanish well, and then she handed me a songbook that was in German, so I was able to attempt two things I’m really good at: singing and speaking in German. I got through one page but the girl (Michelle…a lot of the children don’t have normal Latin American names) didn’t like it and made me start over. Then we colored stars in a coloring book.

1/22/09

The kids need to learn how to share- a lot of them wanted to use the swingset, but there are only 3 swings and so many had to wait. I decided that each kid would receive a certain amount of pushes before they had to get off and let the next kid swing, and each time I enforced the switch, the child forced to leave would start bawling…as if he or she didn’t see it coming. Also, for the third day in a row, someone on a swing hit Isaac (a boy who Melissa and I thought was a girl until we learned his name, very recently) in the head because he was standing too close to the swinger. I’m hoping he’ll learn sometime soon to not walk close to the swingset while it is in use.

Some interesting conversations occurred at the dinner table tonight. After my host parents found out that I am a lifeguard during the summers in Madison, they wanted to employ me to watch over the maid (Francisca) as she does the laundry, because she’s so short that she needs a stool and a scoop in order to grab the clothes out of the laundry machine and dryer and my parents are afraid she might fall in. Also, somehow we wound up talking about child obesity, and my dad asked me how much I weigh. When I answered with 160 pounds, he amusedly pointed out to his wife that it was the same as her weight. I think I was the only one who felt awkward, because she didn’t seem embarrassed or anything; she just nodded in agreement. Obesity is pretty much non-existent in Quito (and probably most of Latin America)- I can’t recall seeing anyone who looks obese, and only a couple people I’ve seen are slightly overweight. I remember coming back to the US from Spain, and noticing immediately the conspicuous increase in people’s weights, so I’m sure I’ll experience the same feeling when I return to Madison in May.

I have so much reading to catch up on, but I’m going to Otavalo (the largest market in South America?) this weekend so I won’t have much time to read. Every night this week, after I returned home from the university, I’ve tried to do some reading but each time I’ve ended up falling asleep within about ten minutes. After dinner, I feel even more tired. Writing is usually more fun than reading, so I’m able to stay awake (usually), but the amount of reading has been steadily accumulating and I can sense that next week, when we have an exam, I won’t be able to get much sleep.

1/25/09

A LOT happened this weekend- I’ll try to describe it chronologically, but I may switch to thematically. On Friday, the plan was to meet a group of four or five other students at a bus stop and then walk over to a bus station in order to go to Otavalo, but unsurprisingly I ended up arriving almost twenty minutes late to the bus stop, and no one else was there. It had begun to pour (this was only the second time that a downpour has occurred since I’ve been in Quito…usually it’s just cloudy and pretends to rain a little bit) so I decided to hurry to the bus station alone, hoping that everyone else would be there. As I was hustling down the river-like street (whenever cars or buses would pass, a tsunami would pound into my legs), I felt a slight tug on my backpack. I turned around, but no one was there- instead, a woman (who [whom?] I would later find out was wearing Otavaleña clothing) was a few feet to my right, jogging down the street at a slow pace, with some other women in similar garb jogging a few yards behind us. At first I thought they were just running because the weather resembled a monsoon, and they were trying to find shelter (the entire crowded street seemed to be in panic), so I kept walking briskly. The thing that made me most suspicious was that none of the women ever passed me, even though they were jogging. At that moment I wished I had taken karate lessons as a child so that I could practice my moves on these women, but instead I took the more passive way out and stopped on the side of the sidewalk while I waited for the women to (finally) pass me. Upon inspection of my backpack, I found that one of the smaller zippers was wide open, but luckily the only items inside that pocket were a blue dry erase marker, a small bottle of hand sanitizer, and earplugs that I bought in Spain 1.5 years ago. And a band-aid. Apparently the woman didn’t find anything of value, so I can’t say that I was officially robbed (although I haven’t been able to find a package of Kleenex that I think used to be in my backpack). However, if my hand sanitizer had been taken, I would have been furious. I’m pretty confident that if something valuable WAS stolen, I could have easily chased the women down and tackled them, although I’m not sure how socially acceptable that kind of behavior would be. They weren’t that fast.

When I finally arrived at the bus station, not only was I Kleenex-less, but I was also soaked and still couldn’t find my friends, so after assuming they left without me, I hopped on the next bus to Otavalo (if I had waited about ten more minutes, I probably would have seen them). I met an old Ecuadorian man who had lived in St. Paul for five years, so he could speak English decently. I wanted to practice my Spanish, but every time I tried asking a question, he would answer in English. Apparently he is the head of some important environmental/economic agency, and right now he’s working on a project to improve the irrigation system somewhere in northern Ecuador. It seemed like an interesting internship possibility, but I’m pretty sure I will do my internship in the rainforest. And northern Ecuador (near the border with Colombia) is supposed to be extremely dangerous (even more dangerous than that street by the bus stop).

The most unforgettable event of the three-hour bus ride was when we were approaching Otavalo, and the bus began slowing to a halt. It was dark outside, so I couldn’t see much, but I could hear shouting, and hordes of people were gathered in a semicircle around the street. As the bus approached the scene, I glanced down and saw that a man’s body was lying in the middle of the opposite lane, face-down and motionless, with blood trickling down his arms. Although I didn’t see it happen, I was shocked and felt like the wind was knocked out of me for a few seconds. Except for a few funerals, I had never seen a dead body before and even as I’m writing this two days after it happened, the image is still vividly engraved in my mind. As the bus left the scene, we passed ambulances heading towards the victim.

When we arrived in Otavalo, I was surprised with how easy it was to find the hostel where we made our reservations. The town is so small that I only had to walk about five blocks (and more importantly, I only had to stop once to ask for directions). It was called Valle de Amanecer, and definitely ranks within the top two hostels I’ve ever patronized (I really liked the hostel in Granada, Spain…and the one in Barcelona was cool too except for the drunk Kiwi who stayed in our room and almost urinated on my brother, but caught himself and proceeded to go on the wall outside our room instead). Valle de Amanecer was a hippie-themed hostel, with incredibly nice employees, an open courtyard in the center, hammocks tied underneath shady trees, and no showers—actually there were showers, but no one used them because we didn’t bring towels. Most importantly, breakfast was complimentary, and each morning I ordered pancakes with fruit (banana, papaya, and pineapple). Another benefit of the hostel was its two-block proximity to the street market. But anyways, after arriving, I checked in and the man behind the desk told me that a few other gringos had just left to go eat dinner, but they weren’t the ones I was supposed to meet at the bus stop in Quito. Unwilling to go out alone to find them, I went into my room and began feasting on Maria cookies (clearly a better choice than going out), but about ten minutes (and 7/8 of a package of cookies) later, I breathed a sigh of relief because from my window I could see my friends checking in at the desk.

*All this talk of Maria cookies initiated a craving, so I just ate the last eighth of the package. I’ll need to go shopping for more tomorrow.

After eating dinner at a Mexican restaurant, we tried looking for a bar but Otavalo was surprisingly quiet even on a Friday night. We heard music coming from down a desolate street, so we followed our ears and although no one was in the bar, we stayed there the rest of the night (later, however, a few people trickled in and out).

The next morning, we experienced the Otavalo market in all its glory. The main plaza was just two blocks away from our hostel, but Saturdays are the big days, so tents and other craft stands were spilling into streets many blocks away from the plaza. The artisans and their crafts lined both sides of the streets, and wide streets contained three rows of tents. Some streets, however, were so narrow that there was only room for a two-person wide aisle in between the rows of tents, and there were so many people filling every square inch of street that body-surfing would have been a more practical mode of transportation. The colors amazed me the most- the majority of the merchants were selling clothing, blankets, or hammocks, and each tent was filled with a plethora of color, like a deliciously tempting bowl of Trix. The food tents were equally as amazing. Fruits of every color were arranged in intricate pyramids, whole pigs were roasting over grills on the street, and I must have seen thousands of bananas. Meanwhile, the Otavaleños were shouting how much we as customers needed their products, or how happy our parents or siblings or girlfriends would be to receive a gift. A split second of eye contact with an artisan could kindle a fifteen-minute conversation about their product (and perhaps fifteen more minutes of bargaining) involving taking down or unfolding every single blanket in their table-high stack and forcing the customer to feel each one, and they would not accept no for an answer. If I could describe the market in three words, they would be bustling, exhausting, colorful, jackhammer…alpha male.

What better way to end our Saturday than with a cock fight? We were told that every Saturday at 7pm, cock fights were held in a nearby arena. I’ve always been opposed to most types of animal cruelty (I love eating meat, and I think bull fights are fine…unless you watch amateur bullfighters trying tirelessly to kill an exhausted bull who slowly gets weaker and weaker until it just gives up and falls over), and Saturday night reconfirmed my beliefs. After waiting about three hours, the fights finally began around 10:00 (I guess Ecuadorian time is amplified in Otavalo). We only stayed around for three fights, none of which lasted over 6 or 7 minutes, but the worst one was the third. One of the roosters was clearly losing and it knew it didn’t stand a chance against the other, so whenever its owner would set it back on the ground, it always tried to jump back into the safety of the owner’s arms. Since that didn’t work, a good half of the fight was the weaker rooster trying to run away from the other one. Top three gruesomest parts of the last fight: the losing rooster accidentally stabbed its own eyeball with his hind talon; the owner would place the entire rooster’s head inside his mouth to suck off any blood; all fights end when one of the cocks can’t stand anymore, but for the last one the rooster clearly couldn’t stand and yet the fight continued for about thirty more seconds. Olé!

The next morning we woke up early again and went to Laguna Cuicocha, a lagoon situated in a volcanic crater. We had to take a bus and a pick-up truck (my third time this month riding in the back of a pick-up truck- they’re becoming my preferred method of transportation). Unfortunately, it was a bit cloudy and we couldn’t see past the mountainous edge of the volcano, and so we couldn’t see the snow-capped Cotopaxi in the distance, but what we could see was beautiful. The lagoon was dark blue and clear, and two dome-shaped islands sat in the middle (they reminded me of Lost). Beyond the volcanic mountains lay miles of rolling pastures, which now seem more of a nuisance to me (deforestation sucks). We hiked part of the way around the lagoon (the entire hike would have taken five to six hours), but turned back early in order to return to Quito before nightfall

pictures

2009-01-22T15:02:00.000-08:00

Here's some links to the pictures of the first two weeks:

Week 1:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2503983&l=0f86c&id=8649013

Week 2:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2507669&l=77fcd&id=8649013

2009-01-20T14:50:00.000-08:00

1/12/09

Running in Quito makes me feel like I have the lungs of a two-year-old. I’ve ran in Colorado before, at elevations very similar to the elevation here (around 9000 ft), yet Rocky Mountain running feels easy in comparison to Andes running. Maybe it’s because I’m not as in shape as I was during the Colorado vacations, since those occurred in the middle of track seasons. This morning I tried running to Parque Carolina (apparently many Ecuadorians run through this park in the mornings…I’ve seen a total of two Ecuadorians running since I’ve been here), but I couldn’t even make it that far since I live so far away. The multiple stoplights at every street corner didn’t help. Quito is situated in a valley, and my house is on the sloped edge of the city, so the beginning of my run felt fine since it was all downhill…but on the way back I considered stopping by a nearby department store to ask if I could purchase an oxygen tank. My legs felt fine, but my lungs felt super constricted, as if they were about to implode. Running was also a mental workout, since I had to remain focused on the ground and my surroundings the entire time- there is no such thing as a flat sidewalk here, and you can’t always trust cars to obey traffic signals.

I tried talking to a volunteer coordinator at USFQ today, but she was at a meeting so I think I may just stay in the new Spanish class. Our professor arrived over half an hour late since she didn’t know where to go, but she seems pretty cool so far…although she talks a bit too fast for my liking.

*EMERGENCIA!- We have no more purified water in the house. I hope my host parents realize the direness of this situation. If there is no clean water in the jug by the time I wake up tomorrow morning, my run will be ten times worse than it was today.

1/13/09

When I stumbled down to the kitchen this morning, there was a huge jug of water waiting for me on the kitchen table, and I almost collapsed with relief. My run went a little better today, but by the end I felt as if I only had half of one lung left, with air pollution saturating every last alveolus. Is that a word? The recovery feeling after the runs makes it worth it, though. Although I won’t be able to run in the rainforest, I heard that there are good running roads in the Galápagos, so I’m excited to run in pollution-free, low-altitude conditions…in two months.

Spanish class update: I decided to drop my Spanish class in order to volunteer at a daycare center with two other students, Melissa and Caleigh, about a 20 minute walk from USFQ. Today we went to talk with the director (after asking dozens of people along the way how to get there), and when we finally arrived we were asked to sit on the miniature chairs that were made for 3-year-olds, so that my knees were almost above my head. I had forgotten how tiny 3-and 4-year-olds are! I’m not sure if the director will have specific activities for us to help out with, or if we’ll plan our own activities, but I’m really excited…mostly because I’ll probably be able to understand and communicate with the children easier than with faster-speaking adults.

1/14/09

The picture of my banana/nutella crepe is now the background on my laptop, but that was probably a bad idea because I’m starving right now…and I just brushed my teeth. Speaking of food, my taste buds are experiencing sensations they have never experienced before. Aside from the heavenly juice that I am fed each morning (I had mango today- I’m going to try to find some mango seeds to take home with me to harvest in the garden of my backyard), I’ve also been presented with spinach soup (it looked cooler than it tasted—dark emerald green—but it was still good and it reminded me of the split pea soup that the ants eat in The Rescuers Down Under), artichoke (when I entered the kitchen for dinner last night, there was what seemed to be a medium-sized plant [bromeliad!] growing on my plate, but it was actually an entire artichoke. Vegetables are so much more fun to eat when they’re in their original form- I had to pull off each leaf, and I could only bite off the bottom of it after dipping it in some sauce), and guanabano yogurt (after classes today, I went to a yogurt/ice cream store, where I was tempted to get the banana yogurt since bananas complement EVERY type of food, but Ecuador is the place to try new things…so I tried the fruit that kind of sounds like “banana”).

My favorite part of the bus ride to/from school is when the bus rounds a hairpin curve that overlooks a cliff, with the walls steeply dropping into a rapidly-flowing river that cuts through Cumbayá. For some reason, the driver always thinks it’s necessary to accelerate at asteroid-paced speeds, so that the bus is almost on two wheels, and the lack of any shock absorption makes me feel like I’m in the air more than I am in contact with the surface (either the chair or the window) of the bus. My second favorite part is hopping off when it’s still moving.

Today was the first day of volunteering at the daycare center, and although we were only there for two hours, I was exhausted by the time we walked back to USFQ. If I understood the director correctly, the children do more educational activities in the mornings, and more recreational activities in the afternoons, so we got to play with them the entire time. I tried to teach them how to draw certain animals using sticks in the dirt outside the building, but some were more interested in seeing how much dirt they could spray in others’ faces. Earlier I had mentioned that I was excited to work with children because I’d be able to understand them better…but I was wrong. Many of them mumbled and spoke really softly, and when I could hear them, they used many words I had never heard of. However, their curiosity, playfulness, and lack of any inhibition make me want to take them home with me. A child and a mango seed.

1/15/09

Today at the daycare center, we helped the kids paint a picture of a Hummer (I think they’re learning modes of transportation) with finger paint. After each one made his/her contribution to the painting, I helped him/her wash his/her hands in the sink…but there was one girl who became psychotic when she got her hands on the soap, even more than Clancy becomes when he sees a tennis ball. Her eyes would become wide open and with a huge, devious smile she would begin to furiously rub her hands together with the soap against the bottom of the sink. When I took the soap away, she found another bar on a nearby ledge and repeated the process. I had to literally push her out of the bathroom. But about five kids later, she magically appeared again on the stool near the sink and grabbed the soap. I never knew how exciting soap could be.

Money problems of the day:

-I paid almost five dollars for a tiny meal which consisted of minuscule empanadas, which were more like frozen bite-sized hot pockets, while my friends paid about $3 for a valid, filling lunch including a mango ice cream cone.

-The cashier at a department store had to call my credit card company because my card wasn’t working, so I was almost unable to buy rubber boots that I’ll need tomorrow when we go to El Pahuma Orchid Reserve.

-Photo Express would only accept cash for the photos I needed for my censo, and I was $1.50 short since I spent all my cash on unsatisfying empanadas at that lunch restaurant. Luckily I was with Melissa who had a few coins to spare.

-I had to spend my shiny new Montana state quarter for the bus ride home from the university.

I experienced my first blackout in Quito this evening- my brother said it was because of the rain, but my dad said it was because of President Correa’s two-year anniversary since his inauguration…which is longer than many past presidents have been able to hold office here. That seems like a dumb idea to shut off all of the city’s electricity, though. I wonder how many car or plane crashes it caused.

1/18/09

It’s only about 9pm, but I’m exhausted since we just arrived back to Quito (from El Pahuma) a couple of hours ago. El Pahuma is an orchid reserve situated in a montane forest ecosystem, and I didn’t know that a forest in the mountains could be so jungle-like- I seriously can’t imagine what an actual rain forest will be like now (except that it probably has less or no steep inclines, and is overflowing with tarantulas), since El Pahuma (I just fell asleep for about 10 seconds) is covered with deep green moss- and epiphyte-covered trees, and since it rained for the entire first 24 hours we were there. The large, fully sprawled out bromeliads, drooping mosses, and knobby tree branches made the site look prehistoric, like a scene from Jurassic Park. Too bad I didn’t see any pterodactyls. During the trip, I realized how much more I’m able to learn when I’m actually outside in the field looking at and handling different plant species. Last week in the USFQ biology classroom, we were learning a few of the different plant families, and after the lectures I had no idea how to identify plants. But after one day at El Pahuma I can almost easily identify the plants in all of the families we learned (which isn’t that many…we know 8 or 9 of the 365 families so far…but it still makes me feel like a botanist. We also learned some bird names, too. And I saw a toucan!). However, one of the MOST important things I learned this weekend was that Maria cookies exist in Ecuador. The first time I had Maria cookies was in Spain a year and a half ago (they’re like Graham Crackers, only in cookie form- they almost replaced Honey Bunches of Oats as my favorite food. In fact, one of my first Facebook profile pictures shows me eating one), and the last day in Madrid, I tried to find a store that sold them so that I could bring home a box. But it was Sunday and most stores were closed! So I came home empty-handed, fearing that I would never savor their taste again. On the way to El Pahuma, we stopped at a gas station, and when we got back on the bus I noticed something familiar sitting on a fellow student’s (Rita’s) lap—Maria cookies! I restrained myself from pouncing onto her lap and instead asked politely for a couple, and later I learned from Mark that the cookies are sold in almost every supermarket (and smaller tiendas) in Quito. How could I have been so blind? Since my plane ticket back to Madison is scheduled for a Sunday, I will make sure to not make the same mistake I did 1.5 years ago, and I’ll buy a few boxes before my departure date.

Another important achievement made on this weekend’s trip was the first steps of my acclimatization to spiders. No matter the size, spiders would always make my life difficult by…being present. Last year, as I was going over advantages and disadvantages between possible study abroad locations, spiders were definitely high on the list of disadvantages for this program. However, after spending hours hiking through narrow, cluttered trails in the depths of the montane forest, I began to realize that I was putting too much energy into being afraid—energy that I could use for more important things, like fearing a type of fungus that grows in your brain and eventually kills you (but I think that can only happen in certain types of insects). I got so used to seeing spiders and walking through their webs during our hikes that I was even able to take a few pictures. I’d still probably have a heart attack if one was on me, but their proximate presence no longer causes me to sprint in the opposite direction…unless it’s a tarantula.

El Pahuma is beautiful, and if there were some way that I could study primates there, I would definitely consider the reserve for my month-long internship. The family who lives there and maintains the trails (and act as guides for local and foreign tourists) are incredibly nice, and the food they made for us was particularly delicious. I tried tea for my first time and discovered that it’s best with 3.5 heaping spoonfuls of sugar. So far, for these first 2 weeks I’ve been in Quito, I have loved all the food I’ve been served. However, one food shouldn’t exist: fried bananas. Normal, ripe, fresh bananas are already so good, so why do they need to be modified, and therefore lose their sweetness and some of their nutrients? The only times bananas should be heated is when they are mashed up and made into banana bread, cake, or muffins. Mentioning the toucan earlier in this post is making me crave Fruit Loops right now. Speaking of food, I will segue to beverages and praise the drink I had for dinner tonight- vino hervido. Apparently, red wine mixed with orange juice and sugar can be heated, and it tastes like an intense version of warm apple cider. I hate wine, but I could easily drink this forever. Nonstop.

Hasta mañana.

1/19/09

Today was a good day. Not only did I buy some María cookies at Megamaxi (which is “about the size of UW,” as a student put it. However, they did not sell books of crossword puzzles, one of the things I miss most—other than Clancy and The Office—about life in Madison), but I also returned to Crepes y Waffles for lunch and ordered a banana/strawberry/chocolate fondue crepe and a banana/Nutella waffle. Each was served with a scoop of ice cream and large dollops of whipped cream. In the waffle, each square had been smothered with Nutella, and the fruit was perfectly ripe in both plates. I had time to go there today because class was cancelled (so that we could pick up our passports from the Extranjería and go get our Censos from the Policía de Migración). Short post (and about half of it was in parentheses)!

First week in Quito

2009-01-12T14:22:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone,

I've been gone only a week but I feel like so much has happened so far. Here's a description of my experiences in Quito from this past week. I took way more photos than what appear here, so I'll send those out soon.

Day Uno- 1/5/09:

So far, Quito seems like one of the coolest cities I’ve ever visited, in terms of its appearance (I can’t really make a judgment about the city as a whole yet). It reminds me of Granada, Nicaragua, times ten. The mountains that surround the city are lushly green and usually there is some surreal cloud cover, making it seem like the densely-grouped houses and buildings were stuffed in the valley, out of place. I really enjoy the bus ride to and from the university (USFQ) because a), the cliff-filled scenery of green vegetation mixed with the orange and brown architecture is amazing when the bus descends into Cumbaya, and 2), the bus ride is under 15 minutes (while others on my program need to ride 3 buses lasting over an hour). My goal is to learn the Ecuadorian art of getting off the bus while it is still moving. Perhaps when I reach that goal, it will offset my physical non-Ecuadorian appearance of blonde hair and blue eyes, and I will be accepted as one of the locals.

Tomorrow we have our Ceiba orientation, but it’s not until 1pm so I don’t feel bad about staying up late to write this, although I may pass out from exhaustion at any minute. The day before I left for Ecuador, I stayed up until almost 4am (probably because I didn’t start packing until after midnight…but I was busy doing other important things earlier that day/night such as saying goodbye to friends, ice skating, watching part of a movie, looking at some of my high school writing samples as I was trying to clean under my bed, playing with Emily and Clancy on the ice-covered street, and uploading pictures on Facebook) and woke up at 5 to run (very dificil on the ice). My plane arrived in Quito about an hour later than expected, at 11:30pm, but after going through customs and driving home, I didn’t get to bed until about 2:30am. However, I wasn’t able to fall asleep for at least another hour probably because of the altitude- if I didn’t inhale mucho, I felt like I was suffocating. I woke up at 7 to go to our first orientation meeting at USFQ with all the other international students (about 150), and the campus is amazing and seems like an oasis. Although it in no way represents the normal Ecuadorian population or style of living (it is NOT a synecdoche…one of my new favorite words), I am very excited to be a student there. We had a tour of the campus (my white, dread-locked guide is named Mook), and I don’t remember where anything is but at least the campus is small enough that I probably won’t get lost for longer than a minute.

I’ve slowly been meeting my family members, one by one, over the past 24 hours and I really like them. My host sister and brother (Carla, 28, and Esteban, 25) picked my up from the airport last night and took me home. They apologized for the “freezing weather,” which was probably no less than 65 degrees F, and were shocked when I told them how nice it felt. Carla is a psychologist who has studied in the US and lived in Mexico (and may have studied there, too), and Esteban works in ecotourism, which he said is kind of a freelance job since they call him when he’s needed. He also likes soccer a lot, and there are many medals hanging in my room from soccer tournaments…but they may be those of my other host brother, Nicolas. It was kind of unnerving when Esteban drove me to school this morning and expected me to get back on my own on the bus, but his directions were easy and I only missed the correct bus stop by a few blocks. I met my host mom (Consuelo) this morning and she is also really nice. I feel like I’m able to understand Spanish here a lot easier than I was able to in Spain and Nicaragua, but I realized that it’s probably because they speak slower and don’t drop the s’s on the ends of words. My speaking still lacks any type of competence, though. I’ve given up hope on trying to roll my r’s, so I’m trying to focus on verb tenses and masculine/feminine articles instead. After I returned from USFQ, I met my host dad (Cesar, but I’ve heard my mom and Carla call him Chino) who is a mechanical engineering professor (I think at USFQ, but I’m not sure).

*side note- I always used to think that if I spent a lot of time writing about what’s going on during my trip, it would signify that I’m homesick...but I'm actually writing because I like it so much already and I fear that I might forget tiny details that fascinate me now, but that I’ll take for granted later. However, we were warned about being on this initial “traveler’s high,” so I’ll probably be bawling from homesickness in a day or two.

I have another host brother, Nicolas, who is 22 and closest to my age, but he is spending time in Bolivia (I think) with his girlfriend for another week. My entire host family was vacationing in Peru and Bolivia during the holidays, and Carla showed me pictures (about 1500 of them…seriously). In Peru, they went to Cuzco and Machu Picchu and now I NEED to go there later in May, after the exchange program officially ends. Transportation and finding a guide seem like they will be very hectic and expensive, though. The pictures from Bolivia were also very cool- the family went to an area (I don’t remember the name) that was covered naturally in salt. It looked like they were standing on an ocean of flat, solid whiteness that in some places looked like clouds, and in others looked like desert. They stayed in a hotel that was made from salt, including all the furniture- only the seat cushions and blankets weren’t made of salt. After viewing the photos, Sebastian (Carla’s boyfriend) offered to play ping-pong with me sometime soon since they have a table in the attic. Should’ve brought my paddle.

Wow I’m tired.

Dia Two- 1/6/09:

Since the Ceiba orientation didn’t start until 1 this afternoon, I was able to sleep in, which was fortunate because I’m still adjusting to the altitude. Sleep deprivation caused by the altitude is quantized! Two consecutive hours of sleep was the maximum amount of time I was able to remain sleeping, and I didn’t fail to wake up at 2am, 4am, 6am, 8am, and 10am…each awakening being almost exactly two hours apart, give or take a few minutes. After my last awakening, I ate a breakfast consisting of Corn Flakes and a banana (one of my worst fears before coming to Ecuador was that I wouldn’t be able to eat cereal for an entire semester. I almost cried with relief when I saw the box of cereal waiting for me on the kitchen table. Cereal and bananas probably made up at least 50% of my U.S. diet), and then Esteban took me on a walking tour of the neighborhood. There’s a lot of construction going on near the cliffs that face Cumbaya, and one of the construction workers let Esteban and I into an almost-completed apartment building with a good view of the valley and Cumbaya. I found out that the rent will cost $300…less than what I paid last semester…so I’m probably going to live there when they finish construction.

Our orientation at the Universidad that day ended up being cancelled since about half of the students from our program never showed up, probably because everything having to do with USFQ has been slightly unclear and disorganized so far. So we were dismissed early, and a bunch of us decided to go to a park in Quito called El Metropolitano. The park seemed more like a trail through a forest that wouldn’t stop ascending, so after about 30 minutes of climbing we were exhausted and went home. But at least I got to see a cow, a donkey, a horse, and a grasshopper. Speaking of animals, I forgot to mention that my host family owns two dogs, Wait (no idea if that’s how it’s spelled…it sounds like a Spanish equivalent of Wyatt) and Mati (short for Matilda). They greeted me and kept me company for a while when I was locked out of the house today (my key didn’t work).

In the US, I was always excited about going to bed because I knew I’d be able to feast on Honey Bunches of Oats when I woke up, but now I’m more excited about waking up because of both the cereal AND the juice. All the juice that I’m served is always freshly-squeezed, pulpy, and deliciously sweet. I’m salivating right now just thinking about it. My favorite so far is naranjilla, which looks kind of like an orange but it’s not citrus. Ahora necesito dormir.

1/7/09

The juice here is amazing. Fresh-squeezed strawberry juice? Seriously? I’ve also had jugo de naranjilla and arbol de tomate- both are sweetly flavorful and thick. The process of obtaining a censo here seems like it’s going to be worse than the process of obtaining a visa in the US. I made copies of about 528392 documents today (actually, only 8), so hopefully there won’t be any problems when I begin the registration process tomorrow. Classes began today and everyone in my program takes the same courses. For this first month we all take conservation biology and Spanish. So far, both seem ok, but I’m not sure I’ll survive the 3-hour long lectures for each class.

Esteban took me on a car tour of some parts of Quito after dinner (we ate dorado, a type of fish- my mom told me it’s like the Southern Hemisphere’s equivalent of salmon [Quito is about a half hour drive south of the equator]), and then we went to his friend’s house.

I thought this semester was going to be easier in terms of workload, but at least for this first month, we have a ton of reading to do, from like 5 different texts, and other articles will be assigned throughout the month. I need to learn how to read fast.

1/8/09

Happy birthday Jeff! If you were here, I’d let you take me out to spend a brotherly night on the town, since I still have no idea where anything is, but you probably do. I’m writing early tonight (7:30) because I’m going to La Mariscal (a district full of bars/discotecas…it’s also known as Gringolandia) tonight with the other exchange students, and I’m not sure when or if I’ll make it back. La Mariscal, along with the downtown area and pretty much every other barrio in Quito, is supposedly dangerous and everyone is supposed to take extreme caution. But if every place in Quito is dangerous, what’s the point of trying to stay safe?

*bus update: today I was able to step off the bus while it was still moving! It was going only about 2 mph, though. The turtle will always win the race…?

All the students went to the Direccion de Extranjeria today to register our visas and get a stamp on our passport, which won’t be ready to pick up until Monday. When the passports are ready, we have to then take them to another location to obtain a censo, which acts as an Ecuadorian ID. But before doing that, I need to get 2 wallet-sized photos of myself. Maybe I can just draw a picture of myself, since I’m not sure where to have photos taken. The most exciting thing that happened to me this morning was that a bird pooped on my hand.

*side note- I always try to be conscious of how many times the word “I” appears in my sentences, in order to not sound self-centered, but it’s hard to eliminate that pronoun. If I were completely fluent in Spanish (subjuntivo!), I would definitely be writing in Spanish because the Yo pronoun is usually optional. So, sorry if I appear to talk about myself too much, but just keep in mind that if I were smarter and more fluent in Spanish, I could avoid that problem.

Strawberry juice is like the ambrosia of the Ecuadorians- I just had some for dinner a few minutes ago and it tastes like a thick smoothie…but better. Back to my day- we only had Spanish class today because our morning was free to go begin the censo process. The Spanish class has the potential to be extremely boring because the majority of the time, we just work out of a workbook. However, we also do some more interactive activities, like recite a short play or draw a picture using only certain shapes. Gotta go catch a taxi. Adios.

Ok I’m back. Gringolandia is the place to be. Earlier today, the other students from this program had planned to meet at Coffee Tree, a restaurant/bar in La Mariscal, between 9:00 and 9:30pm, so I told my host mom that people were meeting around 9, so she called a taxi at 8:20 so that I could be picked up at 8:30 and therefore arrive punctually. However, my host mom’s conception of time was an anomaly in Ecuador and I guess everyone else’s host families had them dropped off way past 9:30. So, promptly at 8:55, I was dropped off in one of the most dangerous places in Quito and I couldn’t find anyone from my program, so I walked around a little to try to get an idea of La Mariscal’s milieu (I synonymed “environment”; I didn’t know what milieu meant before). After walking around a few blocks, I just decided to wait at Coffee Tree for anyone to show up. I was getting so worried that I started coming up with excuses to tell my host family for coming home early, such as “I ate food from a street vendor, and now I feel sick,” or “the taxi driver that picked me up from the house realized that he didn’t know where La Mariscal was, and just drove me back home instead,” or “after the taxi driver dropped me off at Coffee Tree, I was held up at gunpoint, but I used my charm and running skills to escape the situation.” But finally, at 9:30, I recognized John, a student from my program, and within the next half hour, 8 more people showed up. I vowed never to be early or on time to anything ever again.

I just realized it’s an hour later than I thought it was, since I was looking at my computer clock, which I never adjusted. That makes me mad. Every minute of sleep counts- at least I got a half-hour nap after the visa/censo viaje. I’ve been a lot more tired than normal here so far, even though I’ve been getting a lot more sleep than normal. Maybe it’s because my running pattern has been skewed (thanks to pneumonia for hindering that aspect of my life). The neighborhood I live in isn’t very conducive to running, since the main running park (el Parque Carolina) is pretty far away, so I’m kind of fearing that I won’t find a good, socially acceptable place to run that doesn’t involve solely a long, steep hill, like el Parque Metropolitano (which is pretty close to my house). OK I’m going to bed now. In conclusion, happy birthday to Jeff.

1/9/09 (actually it’s the 10^th right now, but I’ll keep it as the 9^th for simplicity)

La Mariscal, round 2! Almost everyone from the program went out tonight, but it wasn’t as fun as last night, maybe because our group was so big (I don’t do well in crowds). We definitely let our Gringo presence be shown by joining about 8 tables together at the bars we went to, but eventually our group split up and it became easier to maneuver through the gente-infested streets. For the past two nights, I have successfully avoided having to attempt any type of dancing, so I’ve been pretty proud of myself (although there was an awkward moment a few nights ago when a friend of my mom tried to teach me how to salsa). The thing I dislike about going to Mariscal is the taxi prices. I probably live the farthest away from La Mariscal, and none of the other students live by me, so I have to ride alone and therefore pay higher prices for the taxi rides. However, I had a nice chat with my driver on the way home tonight so I didn’t mind the higher price. And who am I to complain about paying a few dollars extra to use the transportation services? Seeing parents with their 5-year-old children trying to sell gum and cigarettes in the most dangerous area of Quito at midnight made me want to gag. It’s sickening to think that I went out with my American friends tonight to spend money on transportation and beverages, but I didn’t give a penny to the people who need money the most. My host parents told me not to give out money, but I still feel bad nonetheless.

On a happier note, Ian’s Pizza must have ties with Ecuador, since a pizza place across the street from USFQ serves the biggest slices of pizza ever for a very reasonable price ($1). Although the pizza has no sauce, I almost prefer it to Ian’s since the dough is so tasty…and more importantly since it’s cheap. I have yet to try eating lunch at USFQ’s cafeteria, but the pizza across the street is so good that I may never eat anywhere else for lunch. However, the pizza may have been the reason I felt sick later that afternoon.

During our conservation biology class this morning, Joe (the professor) told us that our Spanish classes weren’t actually required on this program, although it would be a good idea to take it because the material we learn will come in handy during our internships at the end of the semester. There are about 5 of us, though, who have taken enough Spanish classes already to make the class here be solely review. So, I think it would be a lot more beneficial to drop the class and instead volunteer somewhere in the city, or work on an independent project, or just do something more useful with my time. I’d really like to volunteer at a hospital (preferably a children’s hospital, since they speak slower and don’t have big vocabularies, and I could make a fool of myself and not be too embarrassed) or a veterinary clinic or a zoo. Apparently, however, volunteers in Ecuador are increasingly being required to pay a fee, and the time spent training volunteers may be so much that the opportunity wouldn’t be worth it. After all, we’re only going to be in Quito for three more weeks, and then the travelling begins. So on Monday, I’m going to talk to a volunteer coordinator from USFQ to see if anything would be doable. Otherwise, a more advanced Spanish class is being arranged, and I would take that instead of volunteering (I’d really prefer not to be in a class, since I don’t need the credits, and it would be more valuable to learn the language by speaking it to Ecuadorians in an Ecuadorian environment than to learn the language in a classroom, and it would be extremely cool if the volunteer work could incorporate something health-related).

Goodnight!

1/10/09

Things I learned today: one in every ten plants in the world is from the orchid family. Quito’s airport runway is the shortest in the world. Dense fog has caused two plane crashes into buildings in the same neighborhood in the city within the last decade or so. My host family is really good at knowing what I’m trying to say, and they’re usually able to finish sentences for me if I hesitate (which I do a lot). The 10^th of August is Ecuador’s independence day, while the 6^th of December is Quito’s independence day. Quito is over 40km long, and growing.

We went to the Quito Botanical Gardens today, in Parque Carolina. I’ve never taken an interest in plants before, but after listening to Catherine and Joe (the program directors/professors/leaders/coolest people ever) talk about the plants at the botanical gardens, I’m beginning to feel more passionate about them. Their diversity and adaptations to survive in almost all environments on Earth amaze me. My new favorite tree is the monkey tree.

After the garden tour, we went to Crepes and Waffles, an awesome restaurant near the park. I’d like to go there sometime soon and order every single dessert crepe (which

probably be under $10)- I had the banana nutella crepe today and experienced the most pleasurable orgasm in my mouth ever. Later in the afternoon my parents and Carla took me to downtown Quito so I could see the churches, plazas, and historic streets. A huge statue of the “Virgin of Quito” was built on a hill overlooking the downtown area, and it reminded me of the Jesus statue in Brazil (Rio de Janeiro?). I finally bought a map while I was there, so now I think I’ll be able to plan out some running routes.

Later in the evening, I met a few more of Consuelo’s relatives—

*I forgot to mention something really important: Catherine looks EXACTLY like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. I wonder if she could pull my eye out.

--including her sister (Anita?) who is extremely animated and likes to throw in English phrases whenever she exclaims something (like “Happy New Year!” or “It’s my birthday!”…which is on January 31^st, and apparently I’m her 81^st guest and she’s excited to salsa with me. I didn’t tell her that I’m going to a cloud forest that weekend). We then went to Consuelo’s brother’s new condo, where I probably made a terrible first impression since I declined his offer of wine, denied having his 7-year-old son’s gameboy game in my possession but then watching it fall off my lap when I stood up, accidentally spit up some water when I coughed and drank at the same time, and leaving without saying a proper goodbye (I thought I was going to come back after riding with Carla to drop off Esteban at a bus stop, but I ended up going home instead). I’m going to get over 7 hours of sleep tonight!

1/11/09

I visited La Mitad del Mundo today with Eric, Melissa, and Teal- it’s about half an hour north of Quito, where the Equator passes through the country. The equator was labeled with a large line and an impressive monument by a French explorer from the 1700s, but he was 240m off. Hundreds of years ago, before the Incas invaded present-day Ecuador, the indigenous people had labeled the actual equator, since their astronomy and mathematical skills were so advanced. It really bothered all of us that the actual equatorial line wasn’t marked (or if it was, we couldn’t find it), but we enjoyed taking picture of ourselves on the fake equator line anyways. Apparently, the indigenous people (I forgot their name) had built structures on the nearby Catequilla Mountain that marked the exact equator, and other formations represented the sun’s position during the solstices, and tons of artwork and architecture incorporate symbols derived from this astronomical discovery. But these symbols were used in many different cultures, including Aztec, Inca, Maya, and Egyptian (I think), so distant cultures must have discovered the same phenomenon as the indigenous people of Ecuador. All of the indigenous religious temples in what is now Quito were built in such a way that they can be connected with a line that passes through the formation on Catequilla. When the Spaniards conquered the Incas (who had conquered the indigenous people), all the temples were razed and Catholic churches were built over them…so unbeknownst to the Spaniards, some indigenous influence still existed. During the solstices, light enters through the church windows at certain times and fully illuminates important pieces of artwork, such as Jesus’s head and the Virgin Mary. There was a ton of really interesting information on that topic.

Our guide then took us to the top of a nearby volcano (Pululahua), which was equally as amazing. In the cloud-filled caldera (is that the correct word?) was a spread out farming village of 25 families, and that number is decreasing as people try to move to Spain to find work (I’m not sure why the majority of them decide to go to Spain…it seems a bit inconvenient). We descended the crater a tiny bit, but our guide said it would take about an hour to go all the way down (and then about 2 hours to come back up, since the path was so steep and rocky). Muy chevere. After returning (and getting lost near the Centro Historico), I met the final member of my family, Nicolas, who just got back from Bolivia. Apparently he did a 4-day-long bike ride down a mountain, starting at an elevation of around 13000 feet. Maybe I’ll ask him for some triathlon tips.

I’m going to run tomorrow! Need to sleep.