Sir, There is Something Wrong with Your Language

Looking back on the last few days, I can honestly say that if you ever have a chance, you have to go to the Galpagos Islands. The place is incredible. Puerto Ayora, the main city in Santa Cruz, itself is an incredibly charming, laid-back town, with some pretty patient people. The southern islands, as I can no say from experience, are beautiful. Each island seems to have its own distinct personality. Blue Footed Boobies, however, are still creepy and will forever haunt my dreams. I found out, by the way, that they get their name from diving into the water with their beaks open.

Being able to be in a place where animals take precidence is an experience in and of itself. It was refereshing, especially because they seemed to know it. Even crabs, as tasty as they can be, roam untouched in overwhelming abundance, despite colorfully patterned shells that seem to scream, "EAT ME!" Maybe though, I have just worked in a crabhouse for too many summers...

I honestly don't know if I would hav had as much fun if it weren't for the pople that I took my tour with. Serg was about three weeks deep into work with no holiday, but still seemed to have a passion for what he was doing. At the least, he did everything he could--within respectful limitation--to ensure that we were well informed and entertained. Neil, Coralie, Rob and Bev were great--I don't know what I would have done without people to make smartass remarks with. Its the one thing (smartass jokes) that you can't really understand, or get, when you are beginning to learn another language (at least when somebody else is telling a joke). They lose their charm when you have to break them down word for word, or they can go unnoticed altogether--at leat the little ones.

Language is, however, the gap that divides us from the rest of humanity. As my brother, and now also my ultrawise tour guide Sergio, say, we are part of a family and learning a language allows our family to grow. As I've already found, there are thousands of wonderful, amazing people out there just waiting to make our lives. We just have to learn their language. Although only speaking Spanish makes me as homesick as all hell sometimes (it limits what I think can be the greater parts of my personality... haha), learning the language is the only way that I know I can go somewhere in the future and not get homesick--its the one way I can crack a smartass joke anywhere in the world, and maybe, just maybe, get a rise out of somebody.

In some ways, it wasn't the cultural experience that I could have gotten (but it WAS amazing). It did, however, show me the importance of learning a language. Of course, it isn't only about cracking jokes... Though, that is a part of maintaining my sanity.

Anyway, after four delays of two hours a piece, a computer malfunction and subsequent delay, I made the two and a half journey through the air from Guayaquil to Cusco. My initial impressions are positive... though I could do without the thousands of offers for a massage. I'll explain more later though... I have to get ready for my trek.

Galapagos, part 2

Day 2: Española



In the morning when we arrived at Española, I awoke to the anchor dropping. Outside of my window, the sky was great and it appeared as though we would have company on the island today--a National Geographic cruise ship was in the harbor. Over breakfast, we hypothesized who was actually in the ship: cameramen or retiros. Retiros are an interesting breed. They have large hats, big sunglasses, unevenly spread sunscreen, wear socks with their Tevas, and have cameras that they typically don't know how to use (at least three of them!). There isn't much wrong with any of the aforementioned, just that it usually means you will be stuck behind a logjam on the paths of the island... for what reasons, I am not entirely sure.

After breakfast, we hauled off to the shores with our snorkel gear in tow, ready for warmer waters. We calmly walked the beach, soaking in the morning sun, playing with baby sea lions and scoping more turtles from a far. We wandered up and down the beach searching for sea lions until it finally got too hot and we had to jump into the ocean.

We swam through the usual sea turtles, manta rays, tropical fish, and the like in search of the ever so elusive white tipped shark. This FLASH popped out of the corner of my eye and I turned to come face to face with the sea lions. One after another, they all took turns swimming around all of us. They spun, ducked, and dodged in order to not get too close to us. It was a brilliant site--I could have cared less if I saw a shark at all. Though we did, eventually make our way out to the cave--a place where Serg told us that we could see sharks. After our unsuccessful voyage, we swam back to shore and mocked the mocking birds... No, really... for about 15 minutes. It was probably the dumbest thing I have done since I left home, but you know, you have to find joy in the little things, right?

I think that despite all of the animals that I have seen since I've been here, sea lions have been and are my absolute favorite. They remind me of dogs, which is probably why. They are probably even more entertaining than boobies--the blue footed kind (I can't say much about the red footed ones).


It was a curious one...

In the afternoon, the skies turned to grey and we walked around a rocky path in search of marine iguanas. We stumbled across this baby Albatros, and watched the adults cruise through the sky, while Serg explained that they only live on a particular island because it has cliffs, which allows them to take off and catch the wind. Of course, my camera died at this point, leaving me with nothing but mental pictures.


They are easily one of the most graceful looking birds... at least when in the sky

We eventually walked back, with only the Galapagos Hawk on the agenda... I think we were lucky, because this was waiting by the boat when we got back:



Day 3: Santa Fe and Plazas

The final day was much like the first two, only better. At Santa Fe, we finally got to swim with the white tipped sharks who were resting in the bay. I was even fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of two Golden Rays masterfully gliding through the crystal blue waters. The water, however, was freezing, making me almost unable to truly appreciate such sights.

Later we walked onto Plazas Sur, which looks like a desolate waste land of red plants and cactus--very much out of a sci-fi movie. We were lucky to stumble across a flower falling from a tree, which caused chaos amongst the land iguanas who ferociously clawed over one another to get to it.


You can play fetch with them. I'm serious...

Knowing it was one of our final islands, we decided to get a little ridiculous, and just started taking pictures of ourselves and talking about which British Celebrities were big in the states and vice versa. Fortunately, for the pictures, I was wearing my Husky Tee... which is still available through the University of Washington Bookstore for the low low price of $15. It makes a wonderful Christmas present, by the way... All proceeds benefit student scholarships too.


The Husky Tee goes global, and only in its first year

We got back on the boat, feeling like it was over. I was sad to know that we had just one trek left, and even more sad to know it would be at 6:30AM. Little did I know what was in store for all of us...

As we sailed towards North Seymour--our final destination--the sun began to set slowly over the Island of Santa Cruz. As we patiently awaited dinner, we grabbed a beer and went to the deck of the ship to take in the sights. As I relaxed and gathered my thoughts, the Polish women started screaming with excitement... DOLPHINS WERE RACING THE BOAT! A huge pod of dolphins--probably six of them, which isn't really huge by Galapagos standards (or so I heard nonchalantly from Serg)--was gliding at the bow of the yacht, darting back and forth, flying every which way. I tried my best to capture the momentous occasion here:

There is nothing like being raced by a dolphin

Eventually the boat slowed down, and the dolphins were no longer entertained. We returned to our prior positions, this time feeling even more accomplished than before. We had now seen four types of lizards, three types of Rays, white tipped sharks, boobies, albatroses, pelicans, tortoises, frigate birds with their grand red pouches, dolphins, sea lions, sea turtles, crabs, and more. What more could we ask for?

The sky turned a bright pink, and the wind picked up. Chris--a Scottish fella--yelled, "What the hell was that?" We all rushed to the side of the boat to take in the sight of Manta Rays wildly flinging themselves out of the water (in order to clean themselves is what I have been told). It was easily, the strangest and most fascinating thing I have ever seen. Unfortunately, I have no way of sharing it with anybody else except for the people I was with...

We went inside, had the ceremonial farewell cocktail, and readied ourself for another ruckus game of peanuckle. Then we found out we were floating above Galapagos Sharks (the dangerous ones...). It was a serindipitous end to an amazing and unplanned journey. Though, we still had the hike in the morning.

Day 4: North Seymour

We took the last hike in the morning, and I stuffed my face with as much as I could in order to reap the benefits of an open semi-buffet breakfast. I am, after all, on a budget. We saw more boobies, with babies this time, and started to feel like this life was the norm--at least I did, for just a moment.


Like father, like son

The bus pulled up, and we got in. I stood there, thinking I was crazy for not planning such an adventure. For thinking it might not be worth it... Neil and I chatted a bit, until a woman interrupted me and said, "excuse me, but you look very familiar... are you from the University of Washington? I think I recognize you and your t-shirt..." I told her "Yeah," and then allowed myself to feel self important for the moment...

As the rest of the group got ready to board their plane, I sat back and waited for the bus to Puerto Ayora. I was really glad that I had gone. The Galapagos islands were easily one of the top 5 things that I have ever done in my life, and no words that I ever write will be able to do my experience justice. It made me feel really really lucky, as if I didn't have enough already. It made me change the way I am thinking about this trip... I'm not sure if I want to be gone for more than eight months, but I am sure that I want to live the time I do spend away to the utmost.

Once I got back to Puerto Ayora, I contacted a trekking agency in order to book a trip on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. I'll let you know how it goes once I return. For now, I'm off to Peru.

Galapagos, part 1

You know the pictures that you drew when you were a little kid? They had that huge golden sun, those pillowy grey clouds, the light sand freckled by red and black shells and rocks. The sea foam blue waves lapping up against the beach, manta rays (for the advanced drawer) fliding bakc and forth through the water, bright red crabs, gigantic pelicans, lizards and those stretched out upside down W's (or M's technically...) you intended to resemble birds gliding off into the distance. I don't know, maybe your pictures weren't much like this, maybe they were a slight variation, or an entirely different landscape altogether--it doesn't really matter. Chances are, the pictures that you drew could be found here, in the Galapagos Islands.

I didn't plan on coming here. I didn't even really want to. I dismissed how great everybody said it was, because the price was too high. But instead, I got lucky, getting restless at the right time. I gambled and ended up in the right place. I got to see my pictures come to life in front of me, all for what now seems like no cost at all. I now leave here with new thoughts and strategies for my travels, all because of some islands and the creatures that inhabit them--that includes the people.

I wandered the town frantically on Thursday afternoon trying to figure out what I wanted to do. It was either become a PADI certified diver, go on an overpriced tour, or stay in Puerto Ayora, doing a little bit of everything for what I thought would probably be less money. The day before, I met two guys on the bus over who have been and will continue to be traveling through South America. For the sake of getting a cheap room, we all decided to bunk together, which is really the beginning of the story. Julian and Dave had already booked a tour--three days through the islands--but they also wanted to go diving. I tagged along, of course, which allowed me to appropriately explore all of my options before making a decision. If it wasn't for those guys, I'm not so sure that I would have realized what kind of opportunities lie right before me...

After Julian and Dave departed, my options had dwindled. I could't decide what to do, so I did what most confused young men would--I called my mom. Of course, she wan't sure, but I did remember that she had told me earlier that I needed to live a little and not worry so much about money (odd words coming from my mother). I decided to run around and figure out if I could obtain PADI certification or not--I quickly found out I couldn't. All the dive instructors were gone for holiday, you know, as the Brits say. With options and time dwindling away, I had to move quick. I went back to the tour agency and checked out the three available tours. One filled up while I was there and it came down to two--a fancy smaller boat, or this rustic gem of a yacht named the Angelique. Me, being the romantic that I am, chose the old yacht and a four day tour, packed up my things, got the cash and decided to go. After all, I was in the Galapagos Islands, and you never know if you'll make it to all the places you want to, on this trip or the next. I booked it, and all I had to do was wait.

I sat on the dock for a couple of hours, wondering if I had made the right decision. The financial implications could mean I wouldn't be able to do some of the other things I had planned on doing. Maybe I would change my mind about a lot of things in the next few days. Maybe this would be one of the greatest things I have ever done (at least top 5, right?). And maybe I wasn't as cool as I thought I was...

Meet at dock, 6PM

15 people jumped in a dingy as the guide yelled out "Angelique." I had booked the tour so late that they didn't know I was coming. Turns out I had missed the first part of the tour too... an exploration of the highlands and the Charles Darwin Center. This was alright, as I snuck my way onto Julian and Dave's tour in the morning. I at least got to see the giant tortoises, including Lonesome George (the turtle equivalent of a 40 year old virgin). Anyway, on the dingy, this guy Neil threw a couple of quick questions my way to test the waters, and I could tell we'd get along pretty well. We eventually climbed onto the rocking Angelique for dinner. She was every bit of rustic that I had hoped for, but I was getting sea sick pretty fast.

Dinner was an opportunity to introduce myself to everyone and to find out that I would be rooming with who turned out to be an incredibly fascinating and interested middle-aged Polish woman. At first, I felt kind of bad for her as she had no idea this would happen. She had paid a premium price to come aboard and she was being foreced to bunk with some smelly 20-something post-undergrad. And then, I let her have the bottom bunk. The rest of the group was comprised of Polish toruists--a rowdy and lively bunch--a couple more guys and a two couples. The groups quickly divided into two tables (or factions really) for dinner--the English speakers at one table and the Polish at the other. We got to talking, and I quickly gained a fondness for my traveling companions, particularly Neil and Coralie (a younger couple), as well as Rob and Bev... They were sharp, what seemed like well-educated, and full of one liners. They were, for all extensive purposes, my kind of people (even if they don't know a lick about American Football). Dinner was good, but I had troubles overcoming the constant teetering of the boat. Serg(io), our guide, gave us the breakdown of the tour. We would be visiting the southern islands over the next four days: Floreana, Española, Santa Fe, Plazas, and North Seymour.

I felt sick, and despite the fun of dinner, thoughts of whether I had made the right decision lingered. I retired to my cabin and passed out.

Day 1: Floreana

Eventually, the sun rose and I awoke the next morning. The boat was still rocking and I felt like I had made all the wrong decisions. I felt sick and like I had paid too much to take this tour. Then, as I looked out I found a whiskered peeping tom playfully splashing my window. It was about then that I began to think of the overall monumental lifetime achievement status--and more importantly the experience of being here--of having been in the archipelago, and realized how little cost really does matter (Though, I still tried to eat as much as possible during the meals in order to obtain a greater value... hahaha).

After breakfast we hauled off to Post Office Bay, where Serg regailed us with the tail of a woman that lived on the island, her lovers, and how PO Bay got its name. There is a post box--about the only man made structure--on the island. The only catch is that the postcards you put in don't have stamps. They wait there until you either come pick them up some day, or some kind soul hand delivers them to the addressee. It was quite a refreshing idea really... However, despite the fascinating tale, we got bored pretty quick examining this wooden box and headed down to the lava tunnels.



So it turns out that we needed flashlights. There were about 4 for 12 of us, but we made do. We walked down the lava tunnels to find the water that had remained from thousands of years ago. We hiked up our shorts to a level appropriate for the 1980s and surged forward. Once we figured out that we would only be finding waist high water, we turned back. It wasn't that cool, to be honest, but the ways that the English speaking posse was able to joke around about everything eased my worries.

We spent the afternoon snorkeling throughout the Corona del Diablo--a cracked and sunken volcanic crater now filled with hundreds of species of life aquatic. On a sunny day, it is supposed to be the best place to snorkel in the Archipelago. I can't say that I have any complaints either. Eagle rays swam gracefully through the water while parrot fish nibbled at coral. Gigantic star fish inhabited every nook and cranny of the cold cold sea. On the way back, we saw two turtles copulating, until, the males head popped out of the water with a frustrated look--kind of like when you walk in on your roommate, if that's ever happened before. Needless to say, he ducked back under the cover of the water to never be seen again. It was ok though, because I would see plenty of turtles copulating on my four day voyage...

After a hearty lunch, we lazed around the boat getting to know one another better. My Polish roommate and I were the only spanish speakers on the boat, and we tried our best to keep our guide Serg entertained. I found out that Rob was a pediatrician, and all of his corny (but very charming and sharp) one liners all made sense. I say that, because I could understand why his personality would be well suited for a pediatrician... His wife Bev rolled her eyes at most things, while adding her own timely lines every once in a while. Neil and Coralie were traveling around South America too, on what I think is a year long holiday. Neil reminded me a lot of both of my brothers, which was pretty comforting after feeling so homesick. Talking to them all kind of got me in a rythym, and I started to feel a lot better about what I was doing.

We landed at Point Cormerant late in the afternoon. Serg guided us up the trail to the other side of the point, where we could see manta rays beaching themselves in search of sand crabs. We wandered at wandered, having only seen a few, until Neil almost stepped on one in a cloud of sand... We had found hundreds of them, almost doubled up on one another, floating in the sand. After accidentally stepping on one (they are soooo sneaky), I wandered off on my own... and eventually stumbled onto some tortoises copulating... again.



After the novelty wore off, we left the tortoises alone, and headed back towards the lagoon. Home to about 10 Galapagos Flamingos... Our attention spans were wearing thin, and our appetites growing. We slowly creeped to the dingy and found a bunch of sea lions ready to play... The sun was setting, the wind blowing, and the sea lions barking. It was definitely a picturesque ending to the first days activities.



I finished the day with a rousing game of peanuckle (forgive me if I spelled it wrong). After a tough, tough loss to Rob, I retired to my cabin and thought about the day... It was incredible, and only the beginning. There aren't enough words to describe what its really like, but I'll try to continue with the following days.

A little later of course... its time for dinner.

I Took a Boat to Somewhere

After scouring Puerto Ayora for cheap accomodation--and not really finding any--I decided to go ahead and book a tour at the last minute (which actually gave me a significant discount). I tried to find a dive center that would allow me to take classes in order to become PADI certified, but apparently dive instructors love to take vacations during this part of the year... Oh well, c'est la vie. I'll let you know how it goes when I get back...

I Haven't Paid for a Bus Ride Yet

The last week has been pretty rough for me, as I think I have actually become homesick. Either way, I know that I've definitely become restless in Ecuador--to the point that I have just started taking bus rides throughout the countryside for no real good reason (which actually has been one of the most peaceful and inspiring things that I've done yet). It has been nice, because I've been able to think about a lot of things... The sun set on my time in Puerto Lopez on Saturday, finding me on a bus ride to Guayaquil, only to take another bus ride to Baños the very next day. Despite all of the commotion, I have been constantly amazed by how beautiful Ecuador is, especially having now seen about every road in the country, at least three times.

Baños, for better or worse, is a tourist town--for International tourists and Ecuadorians alike--because of its well known hot springs, proximity to amazing hiking (and a live volcano), and a plethora of international restaurants. It is also probably one of the only places in the world where you will more often than not pay more for a meal that you will a hotel room. My brief stay there provided for an interesting experience or two...

I woke up yesterday morning at 6:30, tossed on my swim trunks, and headed to the thermal pools to soak up that sweet volcanic sulfer water. After about 10 minutes, I was feeling pretty good about myself, having been one of two non-Ecuadorians at the pools, AND having beat the masses there as well. Eventually--like is usually the case--the other non-Ec (an older woman from CO) engaged me in conversation and asked me how long I had been in Baños. At first, it seemed like she was friendly enough, but eventually she seemed like she just wanted to try to tout her traveling experience over my comparative youth... I tried my best to be cordial, as I wanted to stay in the pool, but with every question she asked and ever answer I gave she tried to tell me that I had the wrong opinion. Finally, I got up and left because she insulted Guanajuato, saying it was a poor excuse for a town, AND then insulted Mexicans in general, implying that they are all poor (another American that came to the pool shortly after told me that the woman was there yesterday and some Australian lady called her a racist--can't say I'm surprised...). Being incredibly bothered, and what turned out to be really dehydrated from having not drank enough water during my long bus ride because I didn't want to deal with the discomfort of holding it for nine hours, I sauntered back to my hostel still wet from the pools. Despite her ignorance, I had some pretty great thoughts develop as a result while I agonized in bed and drank water. An example, if you don't mind... Her justification for labeling GTO as a boring and bland city were that there were no good restaurants (Judy, if you are reading this I know it sounds familiar!), which really meant she didn't like spicy, or traditional, Mexican food. Later, after probably thinking about this way too intently, I came to the realization that there is a HUGE difference between a city that is great to live in and a city that is great to visit. I, too, prefer a variety of options when visiting somewhere, whereas when you live somewhere you just kind of make due with whatever you can find, because eating is probably not the most entertaining part of your day--you have friends and, well, a life. Think about it... seriously.

After some breakfast, and sufficient hydration, I wandered around town, deciding that I didn't want to take any pictures and that I needed a vacation of sorts, from my vacation... I stumbled across this place that rented out Quadrunners and spontaneously decided to jet up the side of a volcano in an attempt to beat the incoming clouds and capture a clear glimpse of this active giant... which recently erupted in 2006 (Its the vulcan Tunguruhua if you want to look it up). It was great for my restlessness, and I wish I would have had my camara after all. Jetsetting up the hill and catching this crystal clear view of the clouds colliding into the steam rising up from the volcano--the dark grey, ash filled, steam and the soft white swirling together--was probably one of the most memorable things I have ever seen in person. The rain came in, and I headed back down the hill happy, and slightly nauseous. I finished my day by being sick, watching City of God, packing my stuff up for the Galapagos Islands, and choking down some really good Phad Thai (?!?).

I felt better this morning, got on another seven hour bus, and arrived ready for the Galapagos Islands in the morning. I wonder what I will think of the Islands having not expected to go--I still haven't really thought about it, if you can believe that...

What is a Thanksgiving?

I spent my day on Isla de la Plata, accidentally kicking fish while snorkeling, and being creeped out by blue footed boobies. It was the final straw in pushing me towards booking a flight to the Galapagos Islands...


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

A Dirt Road Way of Life

At some point along my 12 hour bus ride yesterday, I decided that I was going to head for the Galapagos Islands. I don´t know why, or when it happened, I just know that when I woke up this morning it is what I wanted to do.

Now that I'm a few days removed from Quito, I still don´t know what to think about the place. I probably would have been in awe of it had I just not been in Guanajuato--a city that makes Quito's colonial architecture seem almost amateur (a broad and sweeping generalization that intends to leave out some buildings...). The people in Quito are much colder personality wise--which makes all of the difference with me--and Guanajuato just has that small town charm. Anyway, I spent my last day wandering all over the city, spending most of my time at the Parque Carolina and Fundación de Guayasamin. The Fundación houses the works of Oswaldo Guayasamín--an indegenous painter from Northern Ecuador who just recently passed away. His works were amazing, displaying the full range of human emotion (even his landscapes). As I strolled through the halls and examined his paintings I felt this odd familiarity with his works. And then I figured out that they kind of reminded me of some of my brother Andy's paintings--deep, dark yet colorful, and very very creative. It made me miss my brother quite a bit.

I woke up the morning after (yesterday morning) and knew I would be leaving Quito. However, I had no clue where... When I arrived at the bus stop, I had my options narrowed down, and decided to take the first bus that left. Three hours later, I found myself in a bus station, with the same dilemma. Of course, being the American that I am--full of impatience--I made a split decision and took the first bus to the coast. Later, I found out that it also happened to be the longest bus to the coast...

It was cool though. Driving through Ecuador is an opportunity to experience some of the finest parts of nature that the world has to offer. In one drive, from themountains to the coast, you descend from cloud forests to humid forests to dry forests to banana plantations as the sun slowly drops from its greatest heights off into the distance. Though the ride was long, it was absolutely beautiful. Traveling--the act of moving from one place to another--brings clarity to me and time to think about abstract things. It would have been an amazing experience, had it not been marred by a couple of ignorant Ecuadorians who kept throwing their trash out of the window of the bus. It took about all that I had to restrain myself from smacking this one guy in the back of the head as he tossed out a bottle and laughed... I'm a pretty forgiving guy too, for the most part... Anyway, the situation was made all the more awkward (and slightly confusing) when the guy leaned back in his chair, threw his arms up and tucked his hands behind his head only to reveal a class ring from none other than Washington State University... He couldn't speak English well at all, which made me doubt the ring was originally his, but really?!? I guess its just proof of globalization, or something... I don't know, I'm still really confused...

The bus ride itself also ended up being the personal caravan of our two bus drivers. They stopped to have lunch, say hello to their friends and families, drop off tractor keys to friends, and even pick up their laundry. Nobody on the bus said anything, and I just went with it... It was quite the experience to say the least.

10 hours after departure and I was in Puerto Lopez--a sleepy dirt road kind of town that sits on a hooking bay full of bobbing baby blue fishing boats. Of course, I arrived at 11pm at night, with no reservations, and it was much too dark to tell what kind of town it really was. Luckily, with the help of a local, I was able to find a wonderful hostal not found in any guide book, despite the fact that it has been there for a while. Unfortunately, I think its because the family that runs it--aside from one woman--is deaf. It certainly isn't due to a lack of hospitality. My first day in PL, although a lazy one, has provided for a pretty relaxing experience.

Quito in a Minute

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

There is nothing more liberating than washing your socks in a sink, or for that matter, a river.

A Warm Pair of Socks

My interview for the Bonderman Fellowship came on a day that I had to give an address to an audience who had come for the opening of the Visions of Valor Exhibit on the Univeristy of Washington campus. Normally, giving an address would not have been that big of a deal, but the VoV exhibit happened to run in conjunction with the fundraising efforts for a memorial dedicated to former students and Alumni of the University of Washington who had been awarded the Medal of Honor (If you're interested in the whole story, you can access background materials here, in chronological order: 1, 2, 3). Without going into the whole story, and in the spirit of getting to the point, I was a very nervous kid that day. I'm not sure if I was confident, although I do know that I had dressed really nice that day (at least by my standards). I don't remember my interview going very well, and, in fact, I can't even really remember any of the questions, let alone my answers--except one.



Last night, as I sat in my hotel room with a fire ablaze, I started to miss home about as bad as I have yet. I've now been gone for over a month--the longest that I have ever been away from some kind of stable environment with the majority of my belongings. Being the human that I am, I instinctively scoured the room for the things that would bring me the most comfort... There was this amazing apple pie from the Pie Shop in downtown Otavalo, coffee, water, blankets, fire, a dog outside my door, etc. and nothing quite did the trick. Aside from just going to sleep, I had no idea what I could do. Then, as I rustled through my backpack, it dawned on me--a pair of socks. A nice warm pair of ultra comfy wool socks. My mind immediately flashed back to that interview and I remember Brook--the BF advisor--asking me what essential things I would bring. I said socks, because you aren't always guaranteed a hot shower, nor can you feasibly pack a blanket. They warm your feet and eventually your heart (I'll openly admit I was certainly not this cheesy during the interview). I put on my socks--a pair that my mom had bought for me before I left on this grand venture--and apparently the answer to the question turned out to be the right one for me.

The Saturday Market

Since having moved to Seattle, and having traveled to a country or two, I've developed a tremendous appreciation for open air markets. You have to admit, there is nothing better than getting up on a non-football Saturday, grabbing some coffee and heading down to Pike Place to snag some produce and maybe some flowers for your mom. Seriously though, what is more impressive than cramming thousands of different varieties of produce, livestock, clothing, crafstmanship and people all into one place at the same time? If you want an open air market in Ecuador, there are thousands. However there is one, that on any given Saturday, is supposed to be the best.

Otavalo, a town in Northern Ecuador (it's Winter there and Summer here--only two seasons), is home to what is perhaps Ecuador's largest, and definitely its most famous, open air market. It's also home to the indegenous Otavaleño people, whose ancestors have inhabited the area dating back to 13000 BC. Otavaleño's are known throughout Ecuador for their strong character, maintanence of tradition, and ever-evolving business savvy. Every Saturday morning, thousands of Otavaleños (and a whole lot of tourists) crowd the streets of Otavalo in order to showcase (and sell) handmade wool products, jewelry, clothing, yarn, panama hats (which are incorrectly named as they actually originate from Ecuador's town of Monticristi), food, livestock, produce, and the list goes on and on. The market engulfs the entire city, filling up every square inch of every single street. It was an amazing sight to say the least.





A bus ride from Quito to Otavalo takes about two hours on a good day. On a great day, it would take you a coupld of hours more. I arrived in O on Friday afternoon, and needed to find a place to stay. Luckily, I stumbled across a hotel slightly outside of the city, nestled in the rolling hills of Northern Ecuador, complete with a fireplace. The evening found me exploring the city in order to orient myself with the streets. Plus, I desperately wanted take in the amazing landscape and fresh mountain air that you just can't find in a big city. Oh, and I found this killer pie shop, which added to my conclusion that I'm actually traveling in order to eat all over the world. Food brings people together, right?



The market can start as early as 5am, at least when it comes to the animals. I woke up early, but eventually decided that I had seen enough cows in my life (having been from Nebraska and having worked on a farm) and I needed to sleep in. Eventually, my 6'5" frame lumbered downtown, and I immediately started seeing what kind of deals I could make. That damn competitive spirit. I don't know if I'm a consumer (which I would be pretty ashamed of... sort of...), if I just really enjoy bartering/getting a deal, or both. The fact that I never really get or barter for anything for myself helps me think that maybe I just have a bartering problem. But I digress... I love interacting with people, especially from small towns (in other countries). Despite the fact that there were hundreds of tourists on hand for the market, it still felt incredibly communal. Eventually, the busy scene tired me and I headed back up to my mountain abode.

I think that the other reason I decided to go to Otavalo so soon after having arrived in Ecuador was that I wanted to slow things down before I sped up again. Being able to have the opportunity to choose whether or not you wanted to enter the fast(er) placed life is something that I've already come to really cherish about living--for lack of a better word to describe what I'm doing--on the outside, or completely away from, the centers. My short time in Otavalo, along with my month in Guanajuato, have really hammered this concept into my head. Of course, it has its downsides too, but who wants to read about that? (If you do, just let me know and I can whip something up real quick... ha) Anyway, my time in Otavalo really just allowed me to relax and withdraw, even if just for a quick second. I went wandering out in the hills and ran into these:







Of course, I knew that they existed, but when I went out I had no intention of finding them. It just happened.

Anyway, its time for bed. After all, I'm going to need sleep if I'm going to get back in the fast lane.

Good Morning Ecuador

Do I look lost? I'm supposed to be.

Last night, as my plane was flying high above Columbia, a voice came through the intercom and said , "Unfortunately ladies and gentlemen, the Quito airport has been closed as a result of weather conditions, we will be rerouting your flight to Guayaquil." Thirty minutes later, the pilot came back on and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we can land in Quito, we are now turning around and will be arriving shortly. Of course, that is pilot humor, as the skies were incredibly clear and I was able to have my first fresh breath in about 5 days... well, a much fresher breath than those available in the City of Mexico.


The mystic haze that shrouds the buildings can be yours too, at the low cost of killing everything.

I spent my final day in Mexico City acclimating myself with the ways of the metro, riding all over the city. I went to Xochimilco--an oversized labrynth of waterways--then to Chapultepec, a grand park, if I do say so myself. As I wandered around on my final day, I couldn't allow myself to comprehend the brownish grey hue that lingers around all buildings in the city. It was everywhere. Eventually I found my way back to my dorm bed in the hostel and to my Lonely Planet South America Travel Guide, when I struck up a conversation with this English bloke Barney who had been traveling through South America for the last eight months. He gave me a ton of advice on Ecuador, the Galapagos Islands (if I choose to go there), and for traveling throughout South America. His friend Ed arrived and it turned out that they were going to watch the Luchadores--Mexican wrestlers. I, having been a wrestling fanatic when I was much much younger, could hardly resist the temptation of the high flying spectacle. We busted out to the streets, hailed a cab and were off. The next morning, I packed up my stuff, headed to Benito Juarez, and off I went to Ecuador.

After my first full day in Quito, I'm not too sure of what I think about it. It's a city--a big one at that--with less pollution than Mexico City. The Spanish is slower here, bus it seems as though its spoken with less clarity, a trade-off that I am dealing with to the best of my abilities. The sun is piercing whenever there happens to be no clouds. The coffee is good, and the people not as amiable as the Mexicanos, and their wonderful hospitality, that I have become so accustomed to. There are, however, quite a few brightspots after my first day. Safe to say, none of them have anything to do with tourists that refuse to speak Spanish and only increase the volume of their voice in order to try to get their point across.

One of the simplest, and coolest, things that I have been able to do is walk into a market place and have lunch with all of the poeple of insert city here. This afternoon, I walked into the kitchens of the Mercado Central in Quito, and found myself at Corvina don Jimmy's--a 50 year old Quiteño establishment known for serving the finest (and cheapest) sea bass around. For $2.50, I was able to find myself diving into a bowl of shrimp ceviche and a plate of sea bass with papas y arroz. It was easily one of the most amazing things I have eaten thus far. The best part of the experience though, was interacting with the cooks and servers. I'm not sure if they were laughing at me because I was the only Gringo in the entire Market, or if it was because I had no idea how to properly eat Corvina (sea bass). Either was, a good time was had by all, and I left with a full, happy, stomach. If you ever find your way to Quito, I would definitely suggest stopping by. Tell them the tall gringo sent you (El gringo alto me dijó que neccesitaría tratar la Corvina--I think that is right, given a few spelling errors...).


From L-R: Shrip Ceviche, Jugo de Mora, Corvina con arroz y papas, y palomitas

I spent the rest of my day exploring the Old Town of Quito, the cities historic center. I wasn't in a museum mode, and therefore only walked around to acclimate myself to the city. It certainly is beautiful, despite the fact that I am almost desensitized to colonial architecture. If you've seen an arch, you've seen an arch right? Making it more obvious to me that the focus of my trip, and possibly my life, is the people that I have and will come accross. I won't get too deep here though, as there are some thoughts I need to keep for myself.



Another thing of note is that Ecuadorians do not like Texans. They (of those I have spoken with) do, however, very much like Hugo Chavez. If you would like to understand more about this, I have heard that you can find such information in the books Armed Madhouse and Confessions of an Economic Hitman. Or, of course, you can ask an Ecuadorian.

I miss home, and am wondering why anybody would ever really want to travel alone. Though, in thinking about that, I think I've learned that independence is not just learning how to make your own decisions, its also learning how to not make decisions for others. As you ponder that, I will say goodnight to this now slumbering town. Think about it...


A different kind of haziness