Canary in the Coal Mine

This following story was written by my friend Lewis ‘Lucho’ Wheelwright. I met Lucho in Cuenca, where he has been working for the last year as a study abroad program coordinator. He writes about some of the very sentiments that I have written on in the past, and presents a really nice and reflective voice on his perceptions of his place in Cuenca. So I offered to publish his story on Travel Guy, so that more people would be able to read it. Take a look, and leave some comments so he can get some feedback on his writing, which I think shows a lot of potential, considering he just started.

I think that every traveller at heart feels restless. It’s the kind of feeling which originates from passion, and is driven by unrelenting desire. It grabs you, lets you know it’s there, and shakes you by the shoulders as if to tell you to return yourself to the unknown. It is a time when majestic photos of sprawling white mountain ranges, every word of Kerouac or Thoreau speaking of the great vastness and the “ success unexpected in common hours,” and every leathery  sun-worn local face leaves us with a deep and inexplicable aching of the soul. The feeling from the gut, much as if jumping unknowingly from a plane, giving one the mentally confused, sensory overloaded, stomach dropping feeling which slaps you into a stupor. The legs bounce and a primordial voice whispering “move.” The heart beats, and then it passes until subconsciously stimulated again.


I am not a stagnant individual, nor am I one who is willing to settle. I would not fall, even though I might wish, under the category of “mochilero” or backpacking vagabond. Although I dream of the worn travellers shoes, with toes ignobly poking out, a road-weathered face only broken by the circular 1950s goggle shape from too much foreign road dust. No, no such nomadic meanderings have I completed, yet I would describe myself as itinerant; rather, ‘pata caliente’ or literally, hot-footed and restlessly adventurous, but stable for periods at a time.  

It is when the internal sands stop moving that this inner goliath grabs you and screams for something new. It burns to be let out of its comfort zone and begs to be placed on the wire. If to be just running for a bus, wide-eyed and nervous. The only real answer is to feed its insatiable hunger for something. Perhaps just a lick of burned earth wafting through a window, a lazy, loosely connected ceiling fan blowing in rank humid city air, or the jittery feeling of unfamiliar streets is that prescription which kills the voracious beast. Perhaps just a new type of frosty brew, maybe one like Ecuador’s Pilsener, which is Ecuatorianamente Refrescante, or “Ecuadorianally Refreshing” might cure all that ails.


Last week I completed my first full year here in Ecuador. A milestone in my book of international living. This day seemed to touch a nerve or re-awaken something sleeping. Now, the big elephant of a question that sits in the small room in my head, who normally is at peace, has decided to move into a fragile antique shop of my memories. It blithers non-stop about my past adventures, weighing in on the shoulds and should nots, asking “Where next?” and “How?” threatening to bring up every last great memory I had.  It comes on fast like a badly poured beer, rushing to the top while you unsuccessfully struggle to sip off the excess froth before running out of breath. Too much, too fast and you find yourself more confused than before.

If I have realized anything throughout my last year here, it’s that the simple things in life are what I miss. Although, I might go so far as to say that it’s the simple things in life that keep me here as well. True, a brilliant, colorful fall will never been seen in Ecuador,  but  the pace of life, the fingertips of the wild creeping at the city’s edges, and the forever lasting summer is one of the things that makes this second home so appealing. 


I frequently wonder why I left the amenities of my New England life behind. Perhaps I love being able to play with the Spanish language and to see a shocked face when I speak the local lingo, or it might be that I see people on the street, and they recognize me as if I at were home. Maybe I wait for my South American epiphany—Kerouac style—breaking through the clouds to provide momentous clarity on life. Or perhaps I am still waiting to take my Che Guevara motorcycle ride through the Andes, hoping for my moment of soul searching amongst the Incan ruins, travelling the dusty road, my thoughts vividly transposed into experiential writings.


Even as I wait for these possibly unattainable desires I realize that perhaps this is not the goal. There is ample time down here on the equator, plenty of warm faces, as well as rich communities and history in which I can peaceably pass my time. Yet I am feeling my feet itch and I am no longer passing my time peaceably. It’s as if to have a great urge to use the bathroom on a bumpy road, jammed between 5 non-English speaking passengers in a hot and overcrowded car. Uncomfortable at best. So the true question that lies at the heart of all of this is how to pass this feeling. The truth really is that I am living it in this moment, and my thoughts of returning to my homeland, moving to another country, or just a simple vacation are all running through my head. Which one will calm the urge, and tame the beast I do not know. I feel that this is a point which many arrive to, can perhaps delay for a while, but must eventually face. The challenge is with what, and more importantly, when will our “hot-feet” cool down, and allow us peace and tranquillity in being comfortable somewhere. Or better yet, do we want this?  

By Lewis Wheelwright 

To All My Peeps in Cuenca

I keep in touch with my friends back in Cuenca pretty frequently, and the big news in Ecuador has been the severe drought that has been plaguing the sierras. There are two rainy months in Cuenca: October and April. This is when the majority of the rain falls, and it does so consistently every day. Farmers depend on this rain for their crops, and citizens rely on it for drinking, plumbing, etc. But there has been a serious drought, and throughout the month of October there was almost no rain.

It’s a similar story around the country, and since Ecuador relies heavily on hydro-electric power, there have been blackouts all across the country. City planners have had to schedule periods throughout the day when certain parts of a city will simply go without power for a few hours. My friends told me they even had to go down to the river one day and stock up on whatever water there was in the event that the toilets would no longer flush.

I remember last year that from time to time service on the toilets would unexpectedly be cut, and you were unable to go to the bathroom for hours, sometimes all day. And once or twice, news didn’t reach the bathroom until it was too late. I feel badly for my friends and the other residents of Ecuador who now have to deal with this problem. We think of certain things as staples of life: food, water, electricity, and on and on. But these kinds of things do prove to you that they are in fact luxuries. You can’t survive on soda if the rains just won’t come.

Every day I used to walk by the Río Tomebamba on my way to work, and I was always captivated by it. When it rained in Cajas National Park outside of the city you would know because the water was muddy brown. At times the water would rush in with white water force and I was sure it would spill over the low banks. Other times it got so low that all of the rocks and boulders were exposed. But now it has apparently disappeared, leaving the river bed dry. That is the source for water for so many people. Now it’s gone.

Apparently people are mad at the government, but presidents don’t make it rain. Many are now starting to suggest that yes, global warming does have an effect after all. In a city that’s so polluted, I would hope that people would finally pay some attention. Some of my friends in Quito now have to teach their night classes by candlelight. Ecuador isn’t the only country experiencing black outs. Venezuela, a nation so rich in energy sources, has been dealing with black outs as well, years after energy became cheap and accessible. Brazil had some black outs last week, though that was blamed on a different cause.

I’m glad I don’t have to be going through that, though a part of me does wonder what it would be like to live through a period of consistent black outs, and how that would change you. No doubt you would become less hooked on technology, which isn’t a bad thing. But of course, things are difficult in Ecuador right now, and so, to my friends in Ecuador, I feel for ya. Keep your heads up.

Above: Río Tomebamba, sort of low on water; dying of thirst

Coincidence

I'm a bit in shock now. Argentina beat Uruguay tonight 1-0 and will advance to the World Cup. Great. But that's not the big deal. I was preparing to leave work early today to meet up with a couple of people to watch the game in a bar. I spent the first part of the day debating whether or not I should even go out for it, as it was kind of a hassle to get down to San Telmo to watch it. Knowing it was farther away and I only had a half hour or so before the game started, I was heading to the subway stop a couple of blocks from my office. I left ten minutes earlier than usual.

I went right on to Calle Florida and quickly realized it would have been quicker on Calle Maipú, but oh well, too late, I thought. As I was rounding the corner to head to the steps of the subway, I thought I saw Chelsea, another volunteer from WorldTeach in Ecuador. But that couldn't be right, because why would she be in Argentina?

Yet I got closer and saw her boyfriend Ryan, another WorldTeach volunteer, and immediately knew my eyes weren't deceiving me, though my contacts went dry suddenly as if they were doing rapid adjusting. I yelled out her name and my heart raced, and I felt nervous. She seemed a bit shocked, but not nearly as much as I was. The only sentence I could muster for the first minute was, "What the fuck are you doing here?" I would have expected an email if a friend was coming my way.

But the mere fact that I should be walking a different way home, going the wrong way, at an earlier time than usual, all made it too weird. Just last night I wrote about missing Ecuador and thinking about it all more than usual. Earlier in the afternoon I caught up for a bit with my good friend Jamie, who is still in Cuenca. And now I accidentally ran into two volunteers in Buenos Aires, an enormous city with over 13 million people.

They were only in town for the day, just coming back from Iguazú Falls and taking off in 45 minutes for Mendoza. Apparently it was a spur of the moment thing to come to Argentina. But they'll be back on Sunday before leaving for Ecuador again. And still, there is the shock that I just ran into two people I didn't think I'd ever see again, but in Argentina, and so soon. It's hard to explain what my thoughts were because it was too much of a blur to have any.

Recently I was contacted by another girl, Valerie, who is a friend of a friend, Jake, who was just living in Colombia for a while. How I met Jake was also by coincidence, because he met my friend Jamie in Cuzco when they both taught there. I met Jamie through coincidence at Thanksgiving dinner last year in Cuenca and found out she studied in Spain with one of my close friends from back home who lives down the street from me. Jake visited Jamie, I met him, and became friendly with him. Valerie now lives in Buenos Aires with her boyfriend, and we agreed to meet up on Saturday, but couldn't pull it together. On Sunday afternoon, I bumped into them in the street at the crowded San Telmo Fair and recognized her from her Facebook picture.

These coincidences continue to pour on, and it's creepy at some level. I'm wondering, will this continue?

Above: Chelsea, the other volunteer who randomly popped in to Buenos Aires today

What I'll Miss

As curvy as this year has been, as frustrating as the university, the banks, and the culture has been, I know there are many things that I will miss when I finally return home and continue on to Argentina. Because after all, that's what makes a country unique, and there are many things that will be different between Cuenca and Buenos Aires.

I'm not a particularly special person, but here in Ecuador I'm kind of an interesting guy. Aside from being a gringo, I'm blond and blue eyed. That alone usually makes me stand out above everyone else. But I don't sound like a gringo. I speak Spanish well, and my accent always has people saying, "You speak Spanish really well, where did you learn?" Then I go into my typical spiel about how I lived in Spain for a bit and my mom is from Argentina. And once I say that, their attitude usually changes into "You're less of a gringo and more kind of like us" one. Even though I'm really not. But it's always interesting.

At first I was pretty uncomfortable with everyone staring at me and the girls making whistles or cat calls. Over time I just got used to it and now barely notice. But that is not something that will happen ever again, unless I'm in another country like Ecuador where there are very few fair skinned people. Back home (and in Argentina as well) being blond is no big deal. I was never a big deal at home, and living here doesn't quite elevate me to celebrity status, but it's pretty close. I always found it funny when someone would tell me that their friend knew who I was, even though I had no idea who they were. Simply because they'd seen me around town.

The food here is nothing to be desired, but there are a few dishes that I really love, yet unfortunately don't get much of. Ceviche and encebollado are coastal dishes, so I've only had them a few times, but they are truly delicious. Ceviche, a cold, raw fish dish is a favorite of mine. Encebollado, a warm dish similar to ceviche, is said to be a hangover cure, though I've never tested it for that purpose. These are dishes that I might be able to reproduce at home, or even find different versions of in other Latin American countries, but it will definitely not be the same.

As an American, I can't help but be on time. Even when I leave my house late on purpose, I somehow get to where I'm going right on time. It's a mystery to me. But on those few occasions when I am late, or when something doesn't go as planned, we just go with the flow. In a way, Ecuadorians are kind of like Taoists. If you miss the bus, no big deal. There will be another one soon enough, or you'll hitch a ride on a truck, or you'll take a donkey. Whatever. That is a concept that I'll try to continue back home, but I imagine that eventually I'll lose sight of it.

Though I didn't particularly like teaching, I know I'm going to miss the volunteer life of working 20 hours a week. The pay is pretty low and you have just enough to survive, but the free time is not something that can be replicated in another life, unless you're lucky enough to have been born rich or choose to be a poor artist. A friend of mine who did the Peace Corps said that going back to normal work hours after volunteering is extremely difficult. My hope is to plug along as a writer so I don't have to experience that kind of work day.

One thing I will not miss is the weather here in Cuenca. 4 seasons in a day and all that jazz is just not for me. This is a city where on one side of the street is sunlight, and you sweat. But when you cross the street into the shade you start to shiver. I'm a New England boy, and I need my seasons to dictate how I live. As much as I hate winter, I need it to tell me how to act, feel, and most importantly, dress. Not a day goes by here that I haven't dressed appropriately, either because it's suddenly too hot or a freak rain storm has come in from the west. I need solid seasons, not imaginary ones.

There's a charm in walking through a small town where everyone says hello to you and after a few days, you feel like a local. Even if you're just passing through. Though not as common in the bigger cities, such as Cuenca, in my own neighborhood there are the people I know. The fruit lady and her daughter, pot bellied and always running around on the sidewalk. The old guy in the caddy hat who always waves to me when I'm running. And the guys hanging outside the bar as I walk by, who I always need to stop and shake hands with and talk with for a few minutes. Live in a place long enough and you become that place.

I'm going to miss prices, which seem expensive at times because I've been here so long, yet in the back of my mind I know are a steal by American standards. The friends that I've made, both local and foreigners, might be the hardest to leave. When you find yourself in a difficult situation far away from home, you tend to bond much quicker and more strongly with others in your similar situation. You could have a best friend in 1 week if things go well. Experiencing the same things, you can laugh and yell about the same things. And you'll always have that together.

I'm nearly done with my time here, and as I sit around waiting to leave, I find myself frustrated and bored. What to do, what to do? But at the end of the day, with all of the complaining aside, I will miss this place at some level. It's a part of me now.

Above: Images from Cuenca

LAN Offers Cheaper Deals

In case any of you readers out there are currently traveling in Ecuador or planning on coming soon, this information might be helpful to you. Recently we've heard that LAN will now be offering flights between Cuenca and Quito, and at a cheaper price than their competition, Aerogal or TAME. Earlier this month when I flew from Cuenca to Quito I had to pay $66. On the way back, it cost $78. LAN is offering deals now for around $30. I always recommend taking the bus down the country at least once so that you can see the scenery, but if you're pressed for time or just don't want to deal with a 10+ hour bus ride, this is a great deal.

The bus, which takes around 10 hours, costs $10 normally. But the flight, which if it is direct, will take only 30 minutes, and while flying overhead you can see some of the volcanoes throughout the country, including Chimborazo and Cotopaxi. This is the first time LAN has been offering these flights, and that is why they are currently cheaper, at least for the time being. However, there is a possibility that you will have to connect to Guayaquil before heading on to Quito, which could add another hour or so to traveling. But it's still better than the length of the bus ride or paying double with another airline.

On the other side of things, I've heard that this is a plan by LAN to undercut the competition and run them out of business with cheaper fares that the other airlines can't compete with. Then once the competition is gone, the prices will sky rocket. I've even heard that the other airlines are filing a law suit against LAN because of this. But those are just rumors I've heard about town. But again, if you're looking for a cheap way to get up to Quito or down to Cuenca in less time, this could be for you. I'm trying to figure out when to head up to Quito at the end of July, and I'll most likely book with them.

Above: The view of Chimborazo from the flight from Cuenca to Quito

Nothin' But a 10k Road Race at High Altitude on a Sunday Mornin'

I've never had any wild ambition to run in a road race, and in fact, up until recently I tried to do everything I could to avoid running. Not for me, I thought. I'll just take a nice leisurely pace. But in the last month or two in Cuenca I decided to start running, and realizing that the altitude wasn't a problem and I was actually able to run, I continued to keep it up when the weather permitted. And just last week I heard about a 10k road race in Cuenca that was taking place on Sunday. It was the "45 Edicion Circuito Internacional de Las Cruces de Cuenca," a race to all of the crosses of the city. Some friends from Quito wanted to come down and race, and it got me thinking about trying it. Then my host mom kept egging me on, and suddenly I was motivated like never before.

It's almost weird to suddenly be motivated to run when it was never a factor in my life before, but even when my friends from Quito said they couldn't come, I still wanted to do it. I dragged my friend Jamie into signing up with me, and after paying the $10 fee to enter, there wasn't much else to do but dread and fear, second guess, and wonder at which kilometer I'd keel over and die. Cuenca is, after all, at high altitude. We sit at 2,500 meters, or 8,200 feet. So it's pretty high up, but I guess after months of walking all over the place and recently walking around, I'm well acclimated.

On Tuesday I prepared by running about 4 kilometers, and after my legs were hurting for a couple of days, I was dubious about how well I'd come out. But Jamie and I agreed to go slowly, pacing ourselves and not over doing it. We also came up with signals in case we needed to speed up, slow down, or drop out. But after last night, waking up every couple of hours anxiously, I woke up this morning tired but ready to go. I didn't really train for it, but I was ready to take on 10 kilometers, or about 6.2 miles. Not much in the long run, but much more than I'd ever run.

It was cold this morning as I jogged down to the starting line, and after meeting up with Jamie, we attached our numbers, mine being 0920, and I felt like a real runner. Though of course that was just a facade. We ran into another, older teacher who had run in the New York Marathon once, and started out the race with him. Just before the gun shot went off the sun came out and it got hotter, and I realized that I would be burning by the end. For once the weather was actually nice. I wanted to start asap.

As we started people pushed and scooted past, but we took our time and joked around, making our way around the bend and easily passing the first couple of kilometers. By the third kilometer we said goodbye to the other teacher as he ran ahead to go at his chosen speed, and Jamie and I ran with music in our ears to keep us going. The sun was shining on us and when we could we hid under the cover of shade. As we ran by, supporters on the side of the road cheered us on and passed out little pouches of water that, when we bit into to open, would explode half of the contents on us. But it felt good.

And still I didn't feel tired or out of breath. We were trotting, and honestly some speed walkers probably could have passed us, but we were doing well. And as we progressed we passed other people who obviously wore themselves out too early. We were doing it well. It wasn't the Boston Marathon by any means, but it felt good to be accomplishing something and seeing the people waving. Most of the people were surprised to see me in there and would instantly cheer louder, not expecting me to be able to handle the altitude.

Finally we arrived at the street that was one long hill. It wasn't "heartbreak hill" but it was enough to cause runners to stop and walk. We tackled it steadily and went up slower than before, but we soon reached the crest and had passed many other runners. We were nearing the halfway point and I felt great, knowing I could keep going for a while. Jamie was a little behind and we didn't want to get split up, so I slowed down occasionally for us to stick together. Back through the center of the city with more onlookers, my host mom and sister were waiting on a corner to cheer me on.

We passed a couple of police and army bands and more supporters, unsure of how many kilometers we'd passed, but knowing that we were close to the end. I wasn't breathing heavily or even sweating all that much, a fact that shocked me as I ran and realized that I was running further than I ever had. Music will definitely help with it. Finally we started nearing the end, and I could recognize the area where we'd started, and since I wasn't tired, I told Jamie I was just going to run all out, so I turned on the jets for probably the last half kilometer and arrived to a huge crowd about an hour and 5 minutes or so after we left. The official time will be posted later.

By the time I decided to run all out my legs were feeling numb, rocks were in my shoes, and blisters were forming. But it felt good to get it done, and once I was finished and I was deep into the crowd, I didn't really know what else to do besides wait for Jamie. We met up and had to get into a long line to return the chips that tracked our time, pick up shirts and a medal that everyone got.

So that about completed the 180* for me. As someone who never used to enjoy running, I actually really enjoyed the race. I took it easy and was able to accomplish it, and now I'm even thinking of trying a 15k in Quito in June. And I owe it all to one game of Frisbee. Back in February we played Frisbee in the park, and after running around for a couple of hours I realized that I wasn't really tired. I decided after that to start running and take advantage of my situation, and to get in better shape. It feels good to have done it, and with that being said, it's now time to rest up my legs and take it easy for the rest of the day.

A Weekend Trip to Vilcabamba

Taking advantage of the 5 day weekend, a few of us set off on Thursday morning for Vilcabamba, a small village in the south of Ecuador. It's pretty much the farthest south most people will visit, even though it's still another 4-5 hours from the border of Peru. Before we could get down to Vilcabamba though, we would need to spend a night in Loja.

Loja is another small city that's about an hour and fifteen minutes north of Vilcabamba. Our program has a few volunteers there, and though we wanted to check out the city and see our friends, we were told a very brief few hours to Loja would be sufficient. The bus ride normally takes about 5 hours, but with the condition of the roads and the consistency of buses in this country to stop every few minutes, it took us almost 6 1/2 hours. Luckily, for the first time I made a friend on the bus and was able to keep myself entertained for most of the trip. It was necessary, as it was one of the most uncomfortable bus trips I've taken thus far. The bus was entirely over packed with people standing up in the aisles the entire time, their asses in my face. A snot-nosed little girl was sleeping on my foot and brushing her dirty face against my arm. It was lousy.

Once we got to Loja we found a $5 hostel with terrible beds and got dinner, meeting up with a few friends. We had a short night after being tired from the trip and went to the hostel to rest up and head to Vilcabamba in the morning. Sleeping poorly because of the beds and fear of bed bugs, I woke up tired and we went to the station to get a bus.

The only problem was that because it was Good Friday, buses weren't running normally. First we were told there were no buses, then that there were buses on the side of the road, and then that there were no buses. Taxi drivers wanted $20, an outrageous price, so we waited and sure enough 5 minutes later, a bus arrived. As usual, no one knew what they were talking about. We paid $1 in the end for the bus.

With another lousy bus trip to the village, a small boy was leaning into me and staring at me for the entire trip. But we'd finally arrived in the town to relax and rest. Vilcabamba is hotter than Loja or Cuenca, and it's actually one of the only places in the world with a perfectly temperate climate. It's about the same temperature every day. Possibly for this reason it's known as the "Valley of Longevity," a place where locals are said to live into their hundredth years. It could be the water as well, which is said to have a higher pH than most water in the world. Either way, it has become a haven for foreigners to get stuck in and resettle or retire to for several months a year.

Along the hills you can see the mansions owned by expats which would be multi-million dollar homes in the United States. It brings more money to this region, but at the same time increases the prices for the locals. There has also been talk that a new complex of 300 of these mansions are being built for expats, and that a mega super market will be put in for them. This new development would totally change the town, which is listed as having a population of 4,200. If the town would be ruined from that, then most likely the new comers would find some other great town to ruin in a few years time.

Regardless, the town still has the laid back and peaceful title it is billed as. Many hippies now call this place their home and sell crafts or jewelery. Hiking, biking, and horse back riding are some of the activities you can do in addition to getting massages and spas at a fraction of the price that it would cost back home. The girls in our group took advantage of that, while I just relaxed in my own way. All I wanted was a hammock and to see my friends.

We have two volunteers in Vilcabamba, and though we didn't spend the entire weekend with them, the time we spent was valuable. Also, I was happy to find out that my friend from Guayaquil just happened to be visiting this weekend as well. We caught up on stories and shared some drinks, including snake liquor. It's literally some moonshine tequila in a jar that has snakes marinating in it. We could smell it as the mustached waiter brought over the shots, and we knew it was going to be painful, but we had to do it.

It ranks up there as one of the worst things I've ever tasted, in addition to Absinthe. The effect took hold immediately, and the taste lingered long after we'd spit out our share. Just one shot was enough to make me back away. For the rest of the weekend we took it easy and just enjoyed ourselves until the inevitability of heading home. With another long travel day ahead on Sunday, we left Vilcabamba at 11:30 am, sweating in the heat after marching to the terminal, and were out of Loja by 1:30. After another long and uncomfortable trip, we finally made it back up to Cuenca by 7:30 pm.

The ironic thing in the end was that in order to get to this relaxing weekend, we first needed to take means of transportation and stay in hostels that made us anything but. The beds and pillows wound up making my back and neck stiff, and the bus ride back would have wiped away any relaxation that I'd felt. Yet it was still a fun weekend, and if I had the means to go back again, I think I would.

Above: Three images of the hills of Vilcabamba

Mayor McCheese

There's a mayoral election in Cuenca this month, and the supporters of the candidates have been getting more and more enthusiastic. It's also getting more and more annoying. Sometimes the politics down here just remind me of 19th century politics in the U.S. From what I've seen in movies, of course. I can't help but think of Boss Tweed in "Gangs of New York," handing out bread to the immigrants and putting out fires, all while saying, "Vote for me."

There are posters and flags all over the city. Some people have even repainted their cars entirely in the campaign poster of their favorite choice. A truck is usually driving around with a loud speaker rigged up. The audio plays something inaudible to me, but I imagine that it's the candidate saying why they are so much better than everyone else, and maybe even insulting the mothers of the other candidates.

Maybe the funniest part is the horrible photoshopping of candidates with President Correa. It's clear that the men have never posed for a picture together, and they just don't even look close in the campaign ads.

Somehow all of this just seems cheesy to me. I haven't really seen any debates or campaigns on TV. Instead it's just the advertisements around town and the occasional random concert on a street corner, like the one that kept us awake on Friday night. With no warning, a street was blocked off so a stage could be set up and music was played loudly. I have no idea what the issues are nor why each candidate thinks they will be the best choice, and I haven't heard anyone tell me what they think.

It seems like there are more candidates than people to vote, and as is usually the case, the runners are some of the most rich people in town. The election is coming up in just a couple of weeks, and it will be interesting to see how it plays out. For the meantime, however, I'm going to have to continue dealing with the trucks driving by slowly with the loud speakers and people handing out fliers at every other corner. Ugh, politics.

The Inauguration and Chuchaqui

In honor of a new building that the university has been restoring for the last few years, there was a giant festival outside of the campus gates last night. There was debate and rumor as to whether or not the 6 o'clock class would go on, but we finally learned that class would be dismissed at 7 pm to go watch the show. The building, which will be a post-graduate hall, is designed in a classic Cuenca architecture, and you might say it's now the pride of the city.

A day before the show everything was being set up. Giant speakers were put in place across the river, next to the new building. While trying to focus on my Spanish class, Pink Floyd was suddenly booming in clearly and drowning out the teacher. It wouldn't be that bad if the sound quality was lousy, because then I'd try to block it out. But it came in so well and loud that I just wanted to hear more music.

Some of my students were going to celebrate one of their birthdays and I was invited to go, so after class got out at 7 pm I rushed home to drop off my briefcase and change. I quickly grabbed a shwarma on Calle Larga and got to the university just as the live music was ending. I found my students and we crowded together on the steep slope of the river bank. Wires were set up and two performers were doing some kind of dance suspended in air, much like in Cirque de Solee. The new building was completely lit up with different kinds of designs, and on each floor balcony were different dancers. On the top of the building was the Cuenca choir, singing different songs in between applause and fireworks.

It seemed like half the city was crunched into the tight space to see the show. Apparently this is the first time the city has seen something like this. More and more fireworks went off, dangerously flying into the trees and buildings across the low river, and a pump was continually blowing water out across the scene and then back into the river. It had rained hard earlier in the day, so I kept slipping down the slope and into a girls' back.

Next, indigenous dancers moved out onto the bridge and lit a "vaca loca" or crazy cow. It was just a bit float that was set up like a domino effect for fireworks. The entire thing lit up and made deafening noise, but it was a brilliant display. Once one part was burned out another part would ignite. Sitting there looking at the spectacle made me truly happy to be living in Cuenca. Everyone says it's the most beautiful city in Ecuador, and last night, it definitely was.

After the last song was sung, we headed back to Calle Larga, and oddly enough wound up at another shwarma bar, this one on the corner of Calle Larga y Hermano Miguel. This restaurant just opened, therefore having lower, competitive prices. the service, however, left much to be desired. The food took way too long to come out, and once it was there we had to pay immediatlely before we could eat. It was a good shwarma though.

We wandered around trying to find the right club to go to, but nothing was busy, so we eventually went to a hole in the wall bar called Cafe con ron. The girls are friends with the bartender, so even though they weren't open, we were allowed in. Pitchers of canelazo began to flow as we played different games in honor of the birthday girl. I don't like canelazo. It tastes like acid reflux and is only taken in shot form, meaning you go through it quickly and it catches up with you slowly, but surely.

Soon we were on to 3 and 4 pitchers, mocking the posters of various heavy metal 80s bands like Cinderella. More people showed up and the bar was soon packed. Good classic rock was playing and it was funny to listen to the Ecuadorians trying to sing what they thought the lyrics were. Even though I can't sing at all, they wanted to hear me sing so they could hear what the lyrics were.

I found out that my students have been calling me "El Gato" behind my back because they think I have eyes like a cat. This is the second time a group of women have told me this. It's not an insult, they assured me, but rather a term of endearment. I still don't like the idea of being referred to as the cat.

At some point in the night, maybe 3 am, two men walked in and changed the mood. The music was turned down and everyone except our table and a couple other guys who were there before us left. I have an irking feeling those guys "own" the street. They were immediately brought 2 beers and drank in silence. The door was locked and we were only in there because of the connection to the bartender. Somehow we managed to stay there until 4 am, leaving me exhausted today and with my bad "chuchaqui," Quichua for hangover. My only hope is that tonight I can finally get some sleep.

Thanksgiving in Ecuador

Thanksgiving in Cuenca

On Friday night my friend Becky came up from Loja, about 5 or 6 hours south of Cuenca, so that we could celebrate Thanksgiving together. I'd tried to get some other volunteers into Cuenca to have a little feast at my house/hostel, but Becky was the only one who wanted or was able to come in. It worked out fine however, because Lauren, who also teaches at the University of Cuenca, was hosting a little dinner at her house.

After a quick dinner at Monday Blue we met up with some friends at a bar on Calle Larga called Red Candle. I'd never been there, but the atmosphere was friendly. Lauren was there with her friend Carol, a German woman who teaches at the University as well. Claire, who teaches at SECAP was hosting a little "class" with some students and her boyfriend, Stalin. Only about 7 of her 30-something students showed up, but it was cozy and perfect for the situation.

Though we were all supposed to be speaking in English for the benefit of the students, we were mostly using Spanish. We did find a fun game to play with both languages, however. "Limon, Medio Limon, Limon," is a game that is like a variation of many games back home. Everyone is assigned a number that you have to remember. Someone starts by saying, "Uno limon, medio limon, cinco limon," and the person with number 5 has to continue and say another number. If they mess up they have to drink.

We played this game in Spanish at first, and the foreigners kept screwing up by saying, "limon, medio limon, milon." We then switched to English and laughed as the students struggled. Sharing the fun for a few hours, Becky and I headed home around 2 am, as we were both tired from long traveling days.

On Saturday morning we walked around and Becky bought a panama hat, while I bought season 4 of The Simpsons for $5 and then another movie for $1.50. It's very easy to spend all of your money on movies here. Our plan was to make green bean caserole for the dinner, but we couldn't find the right ingredients at Supermaxi. Also, neither of us are good or creative cooks. So we settled on a can of corn and later on heated it up before heading over to Laurens' house. To be fair, we also brought some soda.

Lauren was nervous about cooking the turkey because she'd never done it before, and swore she'd never do it again after that night. For all of the worrying she did, the turkey came out great, as well as her stuffing. It wasn't a huge crowd, but rather 9 guests, most of whom were Ecuadorians. The Americans were Becky, Lauren, Claire, a new friend named Jamie, and myself. The Ecuadorians were Laurens' host mom, Sonia, her two friends both named Fabia, Stalin, and Israel, Carol's boyfriend.

As it turns out, Jamie just arrived in Cuenca last week to teach English for a year. Her mother is Ecuadorian and so she wanted to spend time with her family in Cuenca. She's from Massachusetts, and it turns out she knew someone from my hometown of Sharon. She couldn't remember the name for a few minutes, but eventually she said the name, "Silverberg," and I realized that she was talking about my friend Adam. They were friends together when they both studied in Madrid. Again, the incredible coincidences continue in Ecuador.

The dinner lacked gravy, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and maybe other regular fixings at a Thanksgiving meal, but it was made up for in good friends to share the holiday with and a familiar feeling of doing something "American." Israel led a heated debate about sexism that seemed to go on forever, with the women getting angrier. Eventually it was decided that the three men should do the dishes to make up for it.

One thing we did that I've never done at a Thanksgiving meal before was go around the table and say what we were thankful for. It was nice and though we did it in Spanish, I think I got the message across. I was thankful to have friends in Ecuador to share the holiday with and for the food that we were sharing. After dinner some of us headed out to go dancing for a while, and as we danced in a circle to some crazy Ecuadorian songs, it was clear that we'd made some new friends. And I'm truly thankful for that.

It wasn't Thanksgiving in my grandma's boiling hot Brooklyn apartment, and I didn't get to spend it with my family, but it was a good day nonetheless. I'm not sure where I'll be spending Thanksgiving next year, but I'll remember this one for a long time to come.

Cajas National Park

Swamp-like features on a rainy day in Cajas

Trees jutting out into a lake

A rock island in the fog

Flowers growing on a shrub

Up there in the clouds

Located only about 30 minutes from Cuenca is Cajas National Park, a huge reserve of land containing over 30 lakes, various forests, and tons of peaks to climb. I finally got the chance to go today with one of my students, Gaby, who is a tourism student and knows a lot about the park. Cajas is higher than Cuenca and can get very cold, and is known to only be worthwhile when it's sunny. Unfortunately for us, it was raining and windy today, making the trip a bit of a downer.

We got to Cajas early and I was happy to pay the $1.50 park fee for Ecuadorian citizens with my ID card, instead of the $10 other foreigners have to pay. The rain had stopped coming in hard, but every now and then gusts of light rain would fall down on us or wind would push us back. It was the coldest I've been in Ecuador, and a long time at all for that matter. High up in these Andes mountains, you would have no idea you were in South America.

The grounds were soaked and muddy, making walks on the weakly outlined trails dangerous and difficult. Cajas is so big and open that people sometimes get lost in there, and some tourists have been known to have to spend the night in the park because they got lost too close to sundown. I was glad to be with someone who'd been there dozens of times. Trying to take careful steps so that I didn't slip and damage my camera, it was useless fighting against the mud. It was having its way with us.

Trying to grab onto grass for support I lost my footing and fell on my side, slipping to another part of the trail. I was muddy and my camera was a little dirty, but it was still working, much to my delight. We carried on past a large lake and up an incline. At one point we had to spend 5 minutes figuring out how to get up a steep rock covered in mud, and only after we scaled a narrow section of grass could we continue.

Heading up another incline, my sneakers lost their grip and I slid all the way down the mud hill. A streak could be seen for at least 20 feet. By this point my white/blue sneakers were covered in black mud and my jeans were getting soaked by the feet as we walked over wet shrubs.

Along the way Gaby pointed out different plants and wildlife, telling me to listen for specific bird calls. She knew a lot about the animals in the park and would get very quiet every time we saw a rabbit or bird. Normally you can take some beautiful pictures in the park, but because we were right in the clouds and the fog was just over our heads, I didn't have the opportunity to take many. Gaby lamented that I wasn't even able to see some of the mountains just in front of us because the clouds totally covered them.

We marched on for about an hour or so, complaining about the rain and cold, until we made it to a forest with red trees that shed bark like we shed skin cells. Gaby picked up a piece that had already fallen and peeled away the layers to reveal redder and redder bark. Every couple of steps one of us would slip, until we finally decided the trail was getting too dangerous and started back. One thing I wish I'd invested in beforehand was a cheap pair of boots, now that my shoes were soaked through.

We saw barely anyone else in the park, but crossed paths with 4 other people our age, walking along to music from a cell phone. Stopping for some hot chocolate in a thermos and Ritz crackers, we caught our breath and were happy that the sun was just barely making a dent in the clouds. Along the way back we took a slightly different route and rubbed our hands in the wet grass to clean off the mud from when we'd fallen.

Finally back at the refuge by 1 o'clock, we checked out the little museum and took off. We had to flag down a bus on the side of the road to get back into Cuenca, like so many other people have while I took a bus somewhere in this country. It was a cold and rainy day, my shoes and pants nearly destroyed, but a fun hike. The next free day I have when there's sun, I'll have to go back and do it again.

Rain in Jima Doesn't Mean No Joy

Today I went for a short day trip to the town of Jima, a little less than 2 hours southwest of Cuenca. My friends Casey and Lara are living in Jima, and though it's an extremely small town in the sticks with not much to do, I wanted to check out the town and do a little hiking.

We took off on the 11 a.m. bus out of a hole in the wall "terminal", leaving on an old bus with huge windows, which when you opened them up, half your body was out of the bus. The weather was great as the sun beat down and the temperature permitted just a t-shirt and jeans. It was looking like good weather for hiking, but it's always hard to tell how long the weather will hold here.

Casey had told me that half the fun of Jima was the bus ride, and as we cruised along through the mountains, I could see why. I felt like a kid in a candy shop, looking out the window at all of the scenery. Passing by farms and huge mountain peaks, the bus took one sharp turn after another, steadily rising in altitude.

It was extremely exciting, and as we got off the bigger road, we wound down onto dirt roads that had never even heard of concrete. One wrong move and the bus would tumble down hundreds, maybe thousands of feet, but the driver was careful to avoid the ditches with slowly moving, brown water, and we continued straight on the path.

As we were getting closer to the destination, darker clouds started to roll in, and it was getting colder. It was clear that the perfect weather was not going to hold. The moment we pulled into Jima a thunderstorm broke out. As we ran up the dirt road, slowly becoming a mud road, to their house, it became evident that the climb was not going to happen.

It was a disappointment, but there was still another, easier walk we could do. The rain stopped and we grabbed lunch, and I could see what a friendly town it was. Jima only has about 1,500 people, and since Casey and Lara are the only gringos, they stick out quite a bit. But everyone is extremely friendly, and as we passed, everyone said hello and good afternoon.

The newly married couple eat all of their meals at the same restaurant, and they are only served whatever is being cooked that day. A dirty-white dog named "Paci" follows them around wherever they go and protects them from the other wild packs of dogs that rule the streets of the town. The last volunteer in the town had brought the dog, and now it has an affinity for gringos.

After the lunch we went back to the house to wait out a few more storms that had rolled in. There is literally nothing to do in Jima. The town center has a couple of stores and maybe one bar/restaurant. A church is the tallest building. This small pueblo has dirt road, which in the rain became muddy sink holes, increasingly difficult to walk through. The buildings and houses are run down and dirty, many in disrepair. But there's something awfully charming about the place. There's no Internet. Probably not that many TVs. And few cars running through causing traffic.

But that's what's perfect about it. It's almost what my image of Ecuador was before I got here. The mountains in the background are magnanimous and inspiring, begging you to climb them. It's an incredibly safe town because everyone knows each other, and there's no point in robbing your friend when you know they don't have anything to steal. The tranquility of the town was perfect.

Once the rain had stopped for a third, or maybe fourth time, we decided to go on a little walk through the town. Going down the dirty roads, Paci followed us and ran ahead at times. Going down the steep roads which the couple runs on, it was clear that the rain had worn away, forcing more rocks up to the surface.

Passing by an indigenous woman carrying a heavy load up the hill, we greeted each other and she warned us it was about to rain. No sooner than a minute later the rain started to fall, and we turned back. The walk up the hill was tough, and since we were higher than in Cuenca, about 9000 feet or more, I was breathing deeply by the time we got to the top.

Once more we returned to the house, played some poker, and then I caught the 5 p.m. bus back to Cuenca. The rain continued to fall off and on, but the ride out was as nice as the ride in, even though towards the end it was dark. Tired and somehow sunburned, I returned home to relax and rest for the remainder of the night. All told, it was a solid day.

Above: along the walk through Jima, one of the main roads through town, the view of the mountain we didn't climb from the house

Cuenca's Independence Day: Part 4

The whole weekend felt a bit like orientation all over again. We would roll down the street surrounded by other gringos, looking for a place to eat or a place to drink. We joked about random things and about the difficulties of living in Ecuador, as well as the good parts. But it was definitely not the traditional experience of being immersed, which was nice for a little change of pace.

Waking up barely alive on Monday morning, we went without breakfast to get to the military parade on time. Most of the people staying at my house settled their bills and grabbed their things to make an exit after the show. It was already hot and sunny as we headed across the river towards the heavy crowds gathering by the three bridges. As we were getting ready to cross the street police sirens rang out, and a motorcade rushed by. We could just make out President Rafael Correa, sitting in the back seat of a pick up truck with an arm out the window, easily recognizable, like a Latino JFK.

We made our way towards the stands where men in uniform stood in the road waiting. Soldiers were everywhere, as well as policemen and women, secret service, and snipers on the roofs of buildings. We stood across the street from the stands waiting, tired and not saying much. Finally after a long wait the music started and movement started. The crowd started to push out into the street, and the cops reacted by driving a truck into the crowd to push it back. But shortly after, the crowd grew restless and pushed back onto the street, and the police had no control over it. We didn't want to bother, so we just stayed on the sidewalk.

It was hard to see over the people, even though I'm average height in Ecuador, and many people had umbrellas to shade against the sun, making picture taking nearly impossible. The crowd got excited as President Correa came by, standing up in the back of a pick up truck, waving to the crowd and smiling enthusiastically. He was just across the street from us, but the crowd made it hard to get a good look. He shook many hands and then made his way up to a seat in the stands.

The parade commenced, and what I thought were Russian MIGs were flying overhead over and over. It seemed a bit like those military parades you see in history class reels, sans the tanks. We wanted to hear the president speak, but since the parade had just started and everyone had to catch a bus, we decided to leave.

Clouds were rolling in and soon enough it was lightly raining for the rest of the day and night. We said our goodbyes on Calle Larga, and that ended the weekend in Cuenca. It was a lot of fun and extremely tiring, but a great refresher for all of us.

Later on I went with my host family to check out a market with natives from Cusco, Peru, who had made the long trip up to sell their goods. Afterwards, we went to a concert in Parque de la Madre, but it was cold and raining, so we didn't stay the whole time.

To close up the long weekend, I hunkered down with Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, ready to enjoy my last day off before getting back to work on Wednesday.

Above: a short indigenous woman looks on at the parade, the military band performing for the crowd, a woman selling food on the street

Cuenca's Independence Day: Part 3

On Sunday morning we woke up, exhausted and hungover, but headed out for some breakfast. I'd promised to take everyone to the best coffee shop in Cuenca, Cafe Lojana, but the shop was closed because it was Sunday and Day of the Dead, a double whammey. The cafe is one of the only places in the city, maybe country, that doesn't use Nescafe, but rather actual coffee beans from Loja. There's no option besides black coffee, but it's only 70 cents.

After grabbing some food at a hostel we walked around the center, snapping photos and looking at the architecture. Coming around the grid streets towards the central park, we stumbled upon a parade of the barrios that was just passing through. Every barrio, or neighborhood in the city had selected a queen and was driving her by on floats in a very 1950s-esque parade.

Once the parade had gone through the center we passed by an outdoor concert in the park and walked down towards a practically empty square. It was starting to rain the kind of rain that would last all day long, and we were in no rush to do anything. Becky had a cough so we eventually found a pharmacy outside the center. Two armed guards were outside with M-16s as they were doing a money drop, and the girls felt a bit uneasy.

That's something that you just get used to seeing here. It's normal for guards to flaunt their weapons, because they want potential theives to know that they're ready. In the United States, a cop never draws his weapon unless absolutely necessary, and you're assured that they're well certified to have the weapon. Here, however, seemingly anyone with a "Guard" shirt can walk around with a loaded weapon. There's little confidence on my part on how well trained they are with it.

Walking around later, we went down to Parque de la Madre where we shared some traditional food for Day of the Dead and festivals. Colada and guaguas (pronounced wah-wahs) are sweet bread and fruit juice that you eat together. Guagua is a Quechua word for baby, and the bread is in the shape of a baby. We crowded around the colada in the middle of the park and dipped our guaguas into the colada as the rain fell down on us, but we were perfectly content.

We decided to find the Panama Hat museum on Calle Larga shortly afterwards because Russell wanted to buy himself one. If you were to buy a Panama Hat made in Cuenca in the United States or in Europe it could cost in the hundreds or thousands of dollars, but at the museum it ranged from $15-18. For this reason, tons of tourists buy the official hats here in Cuenca. But that was still too rich for us poor volunteers.

We tried on several hats, and we realized that I actually look pretty good in a Panama Hat when I tip it to the side. If I could find one for $5 I might consider buying one, but otherwise it's just not worth it. The name Panama Hat is actually a misnomer. The majority of workers on the Panama Canal came from Ecuador and brought their hats with them. The Americans working on the canal saw the hats and liked them, so they took them back with them and dubbed them the Panama Hat.

For years the local economy was doing fine selling these handmade hats, but in recent years cheaper production in Asia has caused the market to crash a bit. For this reason, it's getting harder and harder to find a good hat in the city.

After the museum we got some lunch at an incredibly inefficient chicken restaurant, where it took 25 minutes to get a bottle of water, but a quarter of a chicken came out in 2. It was nearing 3 o'clock and a big soccer game between Barcelona (Guayaquil) and Liga (Quito) was coming on, so we headed over to a bar to watch the game and have a drink.

I was crashing badly at this point and was in desperate need of a nap, but didn't want to waste the time we were spending together. At the bar I was dozing in between the game, and though it was a standard, quasi-boring soccer game for a while, it got interesting as Barcelona scored the winning goal in the 83rd minute.

Our plan after the game was to cook dinner at the house, but we made a mistake in ordering a couple of coffees, which for some reason took over 40 minutes to get to us. With all of the stores closed, we headed back to my house and ordered some pizza, and we prepared to just take it easy and play some cards, drink a few beers, and talk throughout the night. It was a good way to relax and take it easy after the three nights of hard partying, and it was fun to be with the friends we hadn't seen in a month.

By the end of the night we were all exhausted, but wanted to wake up early to get in one last event together for the weekend. The military parade with President Correa at 10 a.m.

Continued in Part 4...

Above: Many hats at the Panama Hat museum, one of the churches in the center of Cuenca, cholas (indigenous women) walking into a pharmacy, one of the barrio queens on a float

An Historic Election

The importance of yesterday's election went beyond the borders of the United States, and for that reason I'm taking a short break in the story telling of the Independence weekend in Cuenca.

For as long as I've been in Ecuador, people have asked me about the election and if I liked McCain or Obama. I have yet to meet an Ecuadorian who would prefer McCain as president, and though we consider this country by our standards to be 3rd world, they are up to date on the latest political news.

Yesterday I was hanging out with some new friends that I'd made Saturday night, and the first thing they wanted to talk about was the election and the fact that Obama's grandmother had died the day before. One of their issues was that most of the soldiers dying in Iraq were Latinos. I have no knowledge of the backgrounds of the soldiers in Iraq, Afghanistan, or anywhere else in the world, but I would have to agree that some of the people who join the military are those who have little economic option.

A lot of people in Cuenca are against the war for various reasons, but one is that a local woman from Cuenca had married a U.S. soldier and moved with him to the United States. Shortly after they were married, he was sent to Iraq and subsequently killed in action. The woman is now left alone in the United States with no family.

So in other words, this election was a big deal, not just for the citizens of the United States, but for all over the world. Casey was staying up in Cuenca another night, so we crowded around my laptop as the polls started to close and eagerly scanned nytimes.com and cnn.com, trying to see which was going faster.

It was a little annoying hitting refresh every few minutes, but it was worth it to keep up with what was going on. After finding a few other sites with projection information and exit polls, we could see the election was moving along steadily. As the east coast started to close, we'd heard that the same gringo bar where we'd watched the elections a few weeks earlier was showing CNN International.

We headed over and found a bunch of other ex-pats and travelers cheering loudly as Ohio was just being called for Obama. For the next hour or so only a few states slowly pulled in, and at times it was painful listening to the pundits saying the same things over and over again, but exciting to be waiting for the results. Everyone in the bar knew that this was important.

Will.I.Am. came on to talk to Wolf Blitzer via Hologram, maybe the wierdest thing I've ever seen on TV, and as we joked and made fun of the new technology, we wondered if it was actually for security, so that if Obama was elected president he would appear via Hologram to avoid any trouble.

Finally, CNN announced that Virginia had gone to Obama, and just a few minutes later they announced that Obama had won the election. At first we were a bit unsure, because after all, it's just a news station guessing that he'll win, and not official. But as the bar started to cheer, the scenes from Chicago were broadcast and it seemed unofficially official.

And just a few minutes after that, John McCain came on to speak to his supporters in Arizona, conceding the election to Barack Obama. It was a bit unreal, that now one of the most historic, if not the most historic elections in our nations' history was over. We were all exhausted but wanted to hear Obama speak, so we had to wait around until 12 a.m. our time.

The reception in Chicago seemed loud and on the verge of delerium, but contained as the president elect spoke. He looked tired and it must have been bittersweet, considering the recent loss of his grandmother, but at the same time must have been an overload of emtions that I can't imagine.

So the election is over and Barack Obama is now president of the United States of America. For now, the majority of ex-pats I know seem happy, as well as the Ecuadorians. Only time will tell how it plays out, but the buzz right now is that things are looking up. And that's always a good thing.

Cuenca's Independence Day: Part 2

We spent most of the time venting about the struggles and difficulties of teaching English and living in Ecuador, and how there were things we just hadn't been able to adjust to or accept yet. But we also joked about the good times and the funnier things. For the majority of the first afternoon, we spent the time drinking in my host mom's basement. It was a good break and necessary rest time, even though we were only piling on the fatigue that would later drain on me.

For some reason, it's sometimes incredibly difficult to just buy a beer from a store here. There's no deposit on bottles, and little tiendas won't sell you a bottle unless you bring them one in return so they can get the money for it. We had to go to two different stores before they would sell to us, of course on the pretense that we would return the bottles before getting more.

We could have used a little nap before going out to dinner, but we were having such a good time that we didn't want to break it up, so finally later on around 8:30 we met up by the university for dinner with all of the volunteers from our group in Cuenca. Annie had picked the restaurant, and it was one of the most expensive meals I've had in Ecuador. In Quito we had sushi on our last day, but that was worth the cost. Here at this meal, I only got a tapa, a small appetizer, of shrimp and some sangria, and it cost me $12. On average, between Monday and Friday I spend about $0-1, so I wasn't too upset about spending a little money this weekend, but my wallet was nearly cleared out as prices rose dramatically in the most expensive city in Ecuador.

I've asked some locals why it's so expensive, more so than Guayaquil or Quito, and I've been told that it's because a lot of Europeans visit the city, and their euros that they bring in have caused all of the prices to rise. It's not a dramatic increase, but it's noticeably more expensive than other parts of the country.

After the long, two hour dinner, we headed back towards the center on Calle Larga, a busy street with tons of bars, clubs, and people. We wandered around for a while trying to find a cheap salsa club to go to, but could only find $10 cover charges. Walking around, I was reminded of the image Hemingway portrayed of Pamplona during San Fermin, the running of the bulls festival in Spain. The streets were packed with drunken people, some slumped over laughing, others puking. Fireworks were being set off, occasionally shocking the nervous system. Groups were walking by holding bottles of liquor and passing it around, and as you'd pass by a wet spot on the ground, the smell of unrine was strong. In other words, it was a town in festival mode.

We settled on the salsa club we had gone to the night before for $5 to get into, but when we got in saw there wasn't much room to sit, so the girls went to the bar and the guys grabbed a small table to play some speed quarters. What we discovered, however, was that it was a dead table and that Ecuadorian quarters don't bounce as well as American quarters. The locals around us were watching as we played, slightly amused.

We played for a while, and the drinks started to kick in quickly. A table next to us was filled with 4 women and a man, and Russell was soon dancing with one of them. What we later found out was that the girl was 15, though we all would have guessed in her 20s. The man was the father and the women were his daughters and wife. They thought it was funny, but Russell was not happy, espeically since he'd given her his number. Casey and Lara left a little earlier than everyone else, and the rest of us were there until about 2:30 a.m. trying to settle the tab, which had risen to about $115 including the tax, which we hadn't seen coming. So as usual, one or two people had to spend much more than everyone else just to leave in one piece.

We went back home to pass out and wake up early to go sight seeing the next day. Finally, I would be ready to take my camera out with me and take some pictures of the city.

Continued in Part 3...

Above: The cathedral, slightly blocked by decorations, an indigenous woman (chola in Quechua), a large amount of people in the bed of a pick up truck (a normal thing here)

Cuenca's Independence Day: Part 1

On Friday I woke up tired from a night out with my students, but was excited with the anticipation of the coming weekend. A 5 day weekend was in store to celebrate Cuenca's Independence Day, and 8 of my friends from around the country were coming in for the weekend and staying at my house.

After getting through the day which dragged on, I met up later that night with Lauren, Casey, and Lara at Cafecito, a popular hostel/bar before going out. Reconnecting and talking about how the last month had been, it was fun to recount some of the things we'd come across. We wanted to find a good salsa club, so we walked down Calle Larga, which was already packed with people setting off fireworks. A police band was playing in a square, full with hundreds of men in uniform, and everyone circled around a couple dancing.

We found a bar that I'd been to before, but they wanted $10 to enter, claiming that there was live music and an open bar, all you cand drink, for an hour and a half. We tried to work out a deal, arguing that we're volunteers and not tourists, and that Casey wasn't going to drink because he was talking anti-biotics, and eventually got it down to $8 for the rest of us, $5 for Casey.

When we got upstairs we saw that we were the only people, there was no music, and the open bar only applied towards whiskey, rum, or vodka, which the girls weren't interested in. After 2 drinks, they started charging for the soda to mix with. A few people eventually came, as well as two more of our friends, but the live music didn't start for an hour and a half, and when it did, it was lousy, depressing music.

With the mood dropping, we left for different salsa club that was $5 to get into and actually fun. After hanging around for a while, we finally left at 2:30 a.m. I was woken up early in a state of fog on Saturday morning, but was eager to get started and meet up with my friends. Russell came in from Quito and was staying at a different hotel because my hostel was all booked. Jacqui and Becky were coming in from Loja around noon, and Bryce and Katherine would be in from Machala around the same time. Craig was coming in from Guayaquil around 10, but ate some dangerous street meat the night before, which got him sick and held him up until later in the afternoon.

Once everyone was finally in town we went for a little walk around the center, down by the river, into a market, and eventually to a shop where they overheard us talking about getting some beer, so they went out and bought cases for us.

It was great hanging out with some guys, because for the most part, there's only one man in each city. As the girls wanted to continue shopping, the guys decided it was time for some male bonding, and we left to head back to the hostel (my house), have a few drinks, and talk about whatever we hadn't been able to for the last month.

Continued in Part 2...

Above: a walk by the river, a market, a typical street in the center of the city

Funny Classes

This week has been going by well so far, and I think it has something to do with the fact that we have a 5 day weekend coming up for Cuenca's Independence Day. I'm feeling good and excited that some of the other volunteers from the program are going to be coming in to Cuenca and some will be staying at my house, as it doubles as a hostel for Peace Corps or other volunteers. It's unlisted and only known of by word of mouth.

Last week there was a Peace Corps conference here, and next weekend it's our turn. With the good things on the way, the mood in class has been more laid back and relaxed, even though one of the classes has a test this week (this afternoon actually). The book we use is an English (British) book, so many times we come across words that I don't use or don't even understand. It takes more effort for me to explain that technically they can use those words, but I don't and wouldn't want to hear them.

The English books are your standard language books, with their lamer sections. Every now and then I read something so ridiculous and start laughing out loud, leaving the students to wonder what I found so funny. One time I read, "I want to _____(blank) some children when I'm older," and I absolutely lost it. I could never explain to them what was funny about that, and really, there shouldn't be anything too funny about it in the first place.

Or other times when I play the audio tracks from the CD in the book and hear the horribly exaggerated accents and the terribly boring conversations they have. I just can't help from laughing. The students see me laugh, and they laugh.

Watching The Simpsons is a universal pleasure, and even though I've shown it in English, they still laugh on cue with me, anytime Homer screams out in pain or does something stupid. It's just good humor.

This week a student invited me to a costume party for tomorrow night and I think the other students are genuinly excited to see me there. They've asked what costume I have and I had to be honest, that I have nothing special. Just gringo clothes. Back home, it's usually awkward when you see a teacher outside of school. It seems absurd that they should have lives outside of the school, but yes, they have to go food shopping, eat dinner, and occasionally go to a bar.

And today, just after playing a little game to help better understand directions, the students mutinied on me. I wanted them to get back to doing work, but no one wanted to. I literally had to argue while cracking up for 5 minutes to get them to do more work. All of the Ecua-whines came out and the students begged, and I was nearly powerless to get them to move until finally they gave up. Somehow all at once the students just decided they had had enough of doing work.

Tomorrow we're watching some Family Guy and there's a rumor that Friday classes will be canceled, so motivation is at an all time low. I can't blame them, and there's little else to do besides ride it out and hope they pay attention for a few minutes a class. That's as much as I could have done as a student in the same position.

Dangerous Hikes and Mineral Baths

Today I went to the neighborhood of Baños, not to be confused with the other Baños that I wrote about a couple of weeks ago. This one is not a seperate town, but rather a part of Cuenca with its own mineral baths, though not as visited or popular as Baños de Ambato or Papallacta. A new friend of mine took me to go for some hiking and to check out the pools. Jumping on the public bus we took the ride across the city and into the barrio.

When we got to the small neighborhood we headed for her aunts house so we could leave our bags there. Her cousins warned us to be careful on the hike because some people had been robbed recently, so I decided to not take my camera with me. The hike started right across the house, and I mistakenly thought it would be easy, since it wasn't that high up from the road. But as I should have already known, nothing in Ecuador is easy, and we're already at altitude, so the hike was no piece of cake.

As we started going up the slipping rocks and dirt, we had to use our hands to get up the steep slope and occasionally would slip. My friend had failed to tell me that it wasn't a paved path, but we were rather climbing up a rugged mountainside without any kind of official trail. I thought that Global Underwriters Insurance would not be very happy about this.

The hike was extremely difficult, not only because of the heat, the incline and slippery path we made, but because we were walking through thick vegetation. Everything in there was trying to kill us, if not for food, than for sport. Every other bush had some thorns or grabby branches slowing us up, and as the cuts and scratches started to mount, the air also started to get fresher and thinner. I was starting to get soaked.

Finally we made our way to a little clearing that I thought was the top, and though it had a nice little view, we still had a long way to go. Based off of how steep the climb up was, I decided that it wasn't worth the last leg of the hike, though it did kind of feel like a cop out to not complete the climb. We started to descend and tried to remember which way we'd come, getting lost a few times along the way. My friend had told me she climbed up the mountain all the time, so I hadn't paid attention to the way we went.

We had to shimmy down and slip and slide along the way, clutching onto branches for dear life. A few times we almost fell all the way down, but somehow grabbed onto something at the last second. I was wondering how I wound up climbing this random mountain, essentially rock climbing, with no real gear and no idea what I was doing. I was wearing jeans after all, not the ideal hiking pants.

Eventually we made it to the bottom and celebrated with a glass of water at the aunts' house. Now sweating badly, we headed to one of the many mineral pools throughout the town. We went to a public bath for $3.50 and took a dip in the water. It was warm and murky, but a welcome relief after the hike. After swimming for a bit we went into the Turkish steam rooms, which was suffocatingly hot and thick with unhealthy air, so after only a few minutes I had to get out.

While waiting for my friend to finish changing I sat and watched some other people in the pool while looking at the mountains in the distance. I saw a sister holding her young brother above the water and suddenly was reminded of a memory I'd long ago forgotten. On some family vacation when I was a very small child, we were at some hotel pool that was packed with guests. My dad and sister were trying to teach me how to swim, but I was scared and didn't want to let go. My dad was laughing while my sister tried to help, but I think I wound up crying and going back to the shallow end.

I don't think I've though about that since it happened, probably over 15 years ago. I have to imagine that it was in Florida, probably while visiting my grandparents. It's been a long time since then, and it's also been a while since I've gone on a family vacation, at least one when we weren't all yelling at each other or going off to do something else. But I've gone on many trips since then, and more and more lately without the family. Since then I've learned to swim, but it never caught on that well, and I've never been an incredibly confident swimmer.

Now I'm out here in uncharted waters on my own and at times, it would be nice to have some family there to be out in the middle of the pool to swim to, but there isn't, and it's on me to get from one side to the other.

We left Baños as the sun was starting to set and went back into the city to patch up the wounds and rest up before another week of classes and work.