Thursday, June 14, 2012

back, back to cali, cali

Quito, my city...
Surprise! I snuck back into the states a few months early to surprise my folks... Sneaky bastard, I am. Seven incredible months after I first touched down in Quito, I am looking back having learned an insane amount of lessons, found sides of me that I didn't know existed, and saw places in the world most people have never heard of. I have met people who will forever be in my heart, as well as a few I'd like to give a swift kick in the ass. I learned a language on 3 different levels, learned to defend myself and express myself, and learned that sometimes words aren't the anchor that keeps us from drifting...
Falling in love in South America
I spent the last seven months evolving, growing, teaching, learning, dancing, playing, laughing, crying, speaking, listening, hoping, falling, soaring, hurting, healing, traveling, drinking, experiencing, and- most importantly- doing. I have been 'doing' for seven glorious months.

I think that the two major aspects that affected my living in Quito, Ecuador were simple, yet vital cosas (things): the people and the travel. Yes, I am aware that does not seem to be a shocking revelation, however, come along on this magic carpet ride with me. (Wait, what's the Latin American equivalent of a magic carpet? The Ecovía?)

The people. I can't even begin... (Don't cry... Don't cry... Don't cry...)

The travel.

I somehow managed on a teacher's salary in Latin America to explore a solid portion of Ecuador, as well as visit Colombia and Perú. I devoured countless bowls of ceviche in a hammock while staring at the endless beaches of Montañita, Ecuador on New Years Eve. I danced alongside the locals while drinking ice cold beer and wearing a feathery mask during the Carnaval parade in Barranquilla, Colombia. I celebrated my 28th birthday with six lovely ladies, barefoot in the sand and drink in hand in Mompiche, Ecuador. I finally manifested the tattoo I have been wanting for the better part of a decade, with the assistance of an Argentinian artist and an open mind.  Most recently, I trekked the 54 hours by bus down to Cuzco, Perú and conquered a four day jungle trek and watched the sun rise from the highest point in Machu Picchu. I love my life.
New tattoo
I focused on making a life for myself, and I feel as though a made quite the sweet one in Quito.  There are so many things I miss already, and it has only been just over a week... 

I Miss...
The views
$2 lunches
Escaping into the language
People who made it special
Mountains
Green environment
Street art 
Salsa dancing
Sense of adventure
Absolute freedom


I Don't Miss...
Gringo tax
Stares
Pollution
Lying taxistas
Everything closed at night
Sundays
Public urination
Whining
Shit DVDs 
Kids that stare while I eat
Electric showers

La Basilica, Quito, Ecuador
After a rough start at the Quito airport, I sunk down into my 22B seat and painted a small smile on my face as i bid the elderly woman in 22A "buenos dias". After a half dozen uniformed workers slowly paced the aisle, counting and recounting us while they eyeballed our every move, we finally took off. I took advantage of the missing Sra. Gracia in 22C and slid over into the aisle seat. My complete lack of sleep from the night before charmed me into the previously denied slumber I had attempted in the airport and I was only awoken by my own shivering. Seriously, I couldn't be that bad, could it? I assure you, faithful reader, it was. Even 22C had shifted to my 22B and explained in very proper Spanish that it was just too damn cold on her side. I helped her adjust her air just in time for a hot breakfast to come sweeping across my tray table and my insides to be warmed with some half-decent coffee. Then, it hits me: BOOM. I'm gone.

Cue waterworks.

I had cried when I received an overwhelming goodbye from some locals and bar regulars the night we left for Perú; I felt so blessed to have a group consisting of Ecuadorian youth and retired Kiwis hugging and kissing me goodbye with such zeal. I also cried when I my friend and boss, Kevin- a handsome Irishman who owns a Vietnamese restaurant in Ecuador- told me I'd become his little sister and we would soon see each other again in this great world of ours. I cried when I said goodbye to Jason- acquaintance turned friend turned can't imagine my life without him- at the airport, knowing I'd be back but still aching. However, these tears were different: they were not tears of exhaustion, longing, fear, sorrow, or disappointment. These years were that of realization. I had made a LIFE and it was a damn good one. I was not ready to leave this place, but I knew it was time.

Montañita, Ecuador - NYE 2011
"Milk and sugar, please..." I answered the blonde haired, blue eyed flight attendant in English. The English words left a strange taste in my mouth. I had grown accustomed to the way "leche y azúcar" rolled around my head and my tongue. I took a bite of fruit from my tray: melón. No more batidos at breakfast made from whatever fresh fruit they decide you want to drink. I sipped my coffee: café. No more instant craptacular coffee shoveled into cups with endless sugar to mask the taste. (Note: Ecuador and it's surrounding sisters grow and export incredible coffee, but try profit margin is too large to serve it at most restaurants. Only higher end businesses and restaurants maintain a natural coffee bean based brew.) Maybe that's not such a bad change...

The kicker was thinking about my mom and the look on her face when I walk through that door. Even writing those words brought the stinging sensation to my baby blues and flushed my face. She's done so much for me over the years, I can give her this one little gift of coming home early and doing "our things" together: Watching "So You Think You Can Dance" wine in hand every week, shopping for nothing in particular followed up by Mexican food on a patio somewhere, Sunday coffee and Bailey's while snuggling with our cocker spaniels Captain Morgan and Jack Daniels. (Yep, you read that right.)

28th Birthday, Mompiche, Ecuador
Call it 'Reverse Culture Shock' or call it readjusting... I will no longer be deprived of the things I had once been accustomed to. I am no longer accustomed to those things, and so having them will be strange. Speaking English and being clearly understood everywhere, having hot running water regularly, being able to flush toilet paper, stores and restaurants being open passed dark and on Sundays, and not fearing for my safety for every second. Seriously. I summed it up about four months ago by saying, "In the states, I can walk outside my door without looking both ways first, at night, barefoot, with a beer in one hand and my iPhone in the other and sit on my grass alone without a care in the world. In Ecuador, you don't even say the word 'iPhone' without worrying someone is going to hold you up for it." Thinking about my parents' home it seems like a luxury hotel. I have stayed in some nice places while living in Quito, but having a dryer downstairs and no bars on the windows is incredible. Having grass to share with the neighborhood kids is a gift straight from Heaven.

Cartagena, Colombia - Carnaval 2012
Please do not mistake Quito for South Central Los Angeles, for its beauty is ever challenging my creative eye and it's culture kept me afloat without boredom for over half a year. I once wrote of my love for Quito, it's dichotomy only matched by what it taught me, and I am already planning my return. It is just so very different from the 27 years I spent living and traveling this world of ours.

I know my tears have been tears of love.
Love for Quito.
Love for Ecuador.
Love for the lessons I learned.
Love for the places I have seen.
Love for the person I have become.
Love for the person I was when I landed there.
Love for knowing love.
Love for the people I have met.

The people.

Rachel and her remarkable wisdom for her age, her many faces we all adore, her insightful outlook, and her undeniable inner and outer beauty.

Kevin and his undying charm, infinite kindness, street and common smarts, and the fact that he without a doubt saved me.

Jason and his brilliant wit, impossibly large heart, incredible positivity, ability to bring out the best in every single person he touches, and inspiring me to be a better person daily.

G Spot Nick and his huge smile, kind heart, never ending friendship, and remarkable ability to carve out a niche in your heart and stay there forever. (G Spot is his restaurant, for those who were wondering...)

Ian and his undeniable warmth, endless support, never failing sense of humor, optimism beyond naivety, and desire to grow: none of which are over shadowed by his ridiculously poor taste in NFL teams.

Andrea and her love of teaching, ability to find joy when her friends are happy, free spirit, and lack of fear of the unknown.

Drew and his fantastic dichotomy, ability to cause me to think deeper and harder, unconditional support when I needed it most, and complete selflessness.

Katie and her deep love affair with cooking, contagious laugh, solid sense of hope, ability to laugh at herself, and ability to call it what it is.

Juan David and his endless love and devotion to his family, passion for music, his love of teaching and playing tennis, charming sense of humor, and his trust in God.
Puma Family - Machu Picchu - 2012
There are countless more; some for the blink of an eye, some who will never read this blog, and some who I will know for life. Even though there are words- and I thank you for indulging me this lengthy entry- I cannot manage to describe how fortunate I am to have been where I was, doing what I was doing, and who I was doing it with. I am grateful beyond my own comprehension. I am blessed beyond what I even remotely deserve. I hope without recourse that I can somehow give back to those who gave to me.

30,000 feet above the Gulf of Mexico, where I once wrote of French-Canadian women and Ecuadorian men, I wrote of a changed life and a changed person. I am a year older, an organ lighter, 2000 pictures heavier, more experienced, more aware, and all the happier. I stepped off of United Flight 1641 at LAX for the first time in 7 indescribable months and walked through my parents' front door to my mother's surprise. My sister, being my accomplice, agreed to Skype my mom in an effort to secure her location and consciousness for my late arrival. Her surprised face and endless hug was more than reward and everything I hoped it would be.

Don't worry, Quito, I will be back... Very soon. 

Thank you to all of you who gave me a part of you. 
Please know you will always have a part of me.

xx.a

Friday, June 8, 2012

machu picchu, tube dancing, and weird meat

Lista...
Peru never held a strong draw for me, even with Machu Picchu being the most sought-after world wonder to date. I had heard that the beaches bordered lackluster deserts (which is mostly true) and the major cities left something to be desired. When my good friend and co-worker, Rachel, informed me that Machu Picchu topped her bucket list, I knew I was in and in for it.

A few friends had been traveling south from Quito for the last few weeks and were meeting us in Cuzco, Peru where we would prep for our four day trek. Two American and four Canadian girls decided to bike, raft, climb, zip line, and explore the Andes mountains and have out journey culminate at the top of Machu Picchu.

Streets of Peru
Rachel and I boarded a night bus from Quito to Huaquillas with high hopes and full backpacks. I advise all adventurers to avoid Huaquillas with every ounce of energy possible. Aside from the attempted kidnapping at the border, it's a dirty and tasteless town that leaves you wanting a half dozen showers and saying a Hail Mary despite your chosen religion. For those of you who know me, I prefer to write about the places I love and avoid the negative, but this merited mentioning.

The Sexy Seis
After we avoided kidnapping, robbing, and God knows what else, we finally secured a ludicrously overpriced taxi to deliver us safely (fingers crossed) to the bus terminal (which didn't exist) and found a reputable bus line to get us the hell away from the border and to the sands of Lima. We were greeted by a double-decker bus with semi-cama (reclining) seats and a wicked view from the massive front windshield. We were off. Again.

Peruvian Ceviche
Lima, here we come! Just 22 more hours... It felt like scene out of "Swingers" when Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau head to Las Vegas from Los Angeles and they start out stoked and fade into a lackluster hoot every once in a while.

After 33 hours on a bus, Rachel and I snatched up the first hostel we found to be both reputable and affordable and scrubbed ourselves to the bone. We wandered around Lima proper, which was lovely, and kept away from downtown, which was dirty and best seen from the bus, as well as the outskirts, which were tin-roof huts stuck into the sides of the dirt hills. The coast line was well kept and consisted of cliffs, art, gorgeous landscaping, and plenty of tourists.

7 months...
Lima, though lovely, was well experienced in a day a we went for a cold beer. We scarfed down multiple-meat burgers topped with fries and tried the local brews. Calling it an early night, we enjoyed sleeping in a fully horizontal position for the first time in three days.

Cuzco, here we come! Just 22 more hours... That sounds a little too familiar. This time, in the back of the 2nd story bus, we posted up and watched another three movies poorly dubbed in Spanish. This trek from Quito, admittedly, did not commit the sin of eighties action movies that consist of Jean Claude Van Dam and an endless amount of dubbed groaning and killing women with large breasts. Aside from the young porter who developed a minor obsession with my feet during our ascent to Cuzco, it was a solid trip: We had arrived.

Cuzco, Peru
We booked our trek through Loki Hostel in Cuzco and met our Canadian counterparts around noon, where we woke them from their hungover slumber around noon. Excitement buzzed that evening as we were briefed and surveyed our trek mates.






Day 1: Spinning Wheels & Paddles
Abramalaga Bike Ride
We ascended to 4250 meters on Abramalaga Mountain and mounted our bikes. We were about to drop 2000 meters over 50 km and the views were stunning. The warm sun ripped through the thin air and tinged our skin as the wind cooled us. We bounded around curves, splashed through natural streams, raced each other over gravel and dirt roads, and we're constantly awestruck after every turn. Little black butterflies danced around us and our faces hurt as much from smiling as our arms did from the two and a half hour ride.

delish.
We loaded up our gear in a small mountain town and devoured some local cuisine accompanied by black corn, pineapple, & cinnamon juice. Dirty, tired, sweaty, and ready for more, we headed to the Urubamba & Vilcanota rivers to cross another beauty off my bucket list: whitewater rafting. Hell yes.

Our guide, Sagá, was a Chilean man in his mid twenties who put up with touring gringos for a paycheck and a chance to live his passion on the river every day. Paddles in hand, we strapped on our helmets and climbed into the giant blue and yellow rafts that would serve as platters to the 3+ rated rivers for dinner. Sagá briefed us on safety regulations and informed us about the dangers that laid ahead, much to his dismay, the our raft nodded half-heatedly and looked to me. Yep. Guess who was dubbed translator for the duration of our trip. Accepting the challenge of translator (and someone who took a sophomore Spanish class in high school a century ago), I managed to tell a bunch of strangers ad a few friends what to do while spinning down a river in Perú. I even managed to convince Sagá to let us tackle some of the more difficult rapids and spin us around in circles! It was most definitely one of the highlights of my trip.
A former resident's depiction 

After we finished, we were driven into the sunset and up a pitch black road to a clearing in the bushes, where we were promptly kicked out and told to strap on our hiking boots once again. Wait, what? We wandered up a steep path by flashlight and iPhone light, panting and hungry, until we reached a little shack with a small monkey tied to one of the door frames. We gathered our breath and played with the mischievous little bugger and fed it sweet sesame peanuts. As we all started to unstrap our packs and take of our shoes, our guide announced in hesitant English, "Ok, guys, let's go... Only fifteen more minutes!" Famous. Last. Words.

Day 2: Morning view
Forty-five grueling, uphill minutes in the pitch dark of the Peruvian jungle later, our surprise hike was over an we had reached the home stay. Exhausted and all-around pissed off, the group stared our guides down as we hung our wet clothes to dry. A delicious dinner was served as the three British boys offered to help our Señora, and we all collapsed onto our wooden benches. Food was devoured at such a rate that we could barely mutter a "Buen Provecho" but everyone seemed in good spirits and had high hopes for tomorrow.

One by one, the girls wandered off to bed, hoping to recharge for tomorrow and keep the mosquitoes at a distance. The Señor came out with his guitar and joined us in a beer while the guys and I played cards with another female traveler. We took turns teaching each other card games and listened to the Señor and one of our guides play poorly tuned guitars and saluds every few moments.

Day 2: The Cliffs of Insanity
Sta. Teresa Valley
When the sun rose the next morning, we emerged from our respective habitations and were left without words. The figureless hike last night left us with sore muscles and one hell of a view. We scarfed down breakfast and readied ourselves for the big hiking day. Frank, who was born on the very land we were trekking across, grabbed a half dozen achiotes from a nearby tree and sliced them open. They proceeded to paint our faces with the seed pollen, claiming it was a natural mosquito repellent, and then slathered themselves in our American-bought chemicals. Whatever.

Achiote
They dubbed me an Andean Inca Princess. Ha. I, in turn, painted his face like a 5th grade pottery project. Disfrutas, homie. Let's go, day 2! We continued our hike up and away from Señor and Señora, expressing our gratitude and leaving just a little part of each of us with them. every corner we turned brought surprises: coffee plants, coca leaves, random giant fruits, millipedes, massive snakes, papayas bigger than my head, and cliffs that drop off into oblivion. We plodded down carefully places steps, dug our boots into cavities scaling up mounds of dirt and rocks, and followed obediently as the path wound tightly around ancient cliffs. Frank explained the traditions and offerings that took place in order to appease the three animals: the snake, the puma, and the condor. 

Great peril...
As we explored the Santa Teresa valley we took turns leading our Puma Family. Pictures cannot do justice to the lands we trekked, but that did not stop us from trying. We teetered down into canyons and hiked the Bilkanota riverbed, had water fights in the streams to battle the almost equatorial heat, and snacked on local grown fruits like Sawinto coffee and bananas as part of the circle of life.

¡Vamos! Let's go! ¡Rrisintu hatumich! Spanish, English, Chichewa... All put a pep in our step as we marched on to night two in a small, Peruvian town, praying there was no uphill night hike. We scooted down the winding path to some thermal spas where we sunk into hot mineral water absorbed every second of relaxation we could. The vies from the pools was the sole item that superseded the pools themselves.

The Pumas
We were dragged from the pools kicking and screaming to a small restaurant where the long, wooden benches were lined with alpaca rugs and Saltado Carne greeted us and we celebrated Shannon's birthday and found the only discoteca within a hundred miles. We went, as Frank called it, "tube dancing" which was actually a bunch of drunk gringo guys taking turns trying to outdo each other on a pole in the middle of a small dance club, but was sufficient enough to give us all a slight hangover the next day... Guides included.

 Day 3: Zip, Zip, and Away
Since Frank and Renaldo we're sufficiently hungover after drinking games and the discoteca, we skipped the three hour hike first thing in the morning and we took a van to the zip line local. Strapped in and stoked for something besides hiking, we climbed a vertical route to the first line of six. One by one we glided across the canopies, lush, green mountains rising up on every side of us and the stream winding intricately below us. Birds darted up and around as the incredible silence was only broken by the whir of the line and the wind in our ears.

Pulling your leg...
After we reluctantly stripped off our gear, devoured another delicious lunch of comida típico, we hiked a few hours around the base of Machu Picchu. We followed the railroad tracks through the jungle to Aguas Calientes, our final stop before the grand finale. Exhausted and riddled with homerun fever, we matched into the pseudo-Aspen town at the base of Machu Picchu. Luxurious hotels, hostels, and countless restaurants and shops lined the paved roads of the touristic city. The pavement and pavers felt strange beneath our blistered and worn feet, as they'd only known rocks, pedals, dirt, and mud for three intense days. We welcomed the stranger beneath our feet, battled with scalding hot and ice cold showers, and tried our best to sit up straight at dinner. After a ridiculous amount of food and some briefing for the big day that would follow, we were all settling in to the worst of the three hospitalities thus far. Running water aside, we all longed for the first homestay that followed the night hike from the first night. 

And then there was Day 4.
Sunrise over Machu Picchu
Day 4: Machu Picchu & Every Man Left Behind
Sufficed to say, our new guide relieved Frank and Renaldo but that was the extent the word "relief" was used for that day. Hugo, though very funny, left us all to find our way to the top of Machu Picchu at 4:30 am. My team of Pumas managed to make it up to the top alive and well about the time I was delivered by bus. My body had decided it had put up with enough and it wasn't sufficiently healed from my appendectomy from a few months back. Deciding my body knew best, and I too having been left my Hugo the Ridiculous, meandered in to my sweet Bucket List item and decided to make the best of every second by following other guide groups here and there and staring at the sun directly until an Inca God spoke to me... Ok, maybe not the last part.
Sun rising in silence
I sat on the compressed dirt that surrounded the stone sun dial at the second highest point in Machu Picchu and gazed silently at the insane dichotomy of the ruins. Old and new, clean and dirty, organized and mysterious. As the sun rose over the mountains in front of me, the chatter stopped and all that could be heard was silence broken by the shutters of hundreds of cameras around me. No one spoke, as it is a sacred and revered time and in a sacred place. Worth every penny, every sore muscle, every hour on a bus getting down there, and every sacrifice made.
Before dawn....
The friends made on this trip were a definite plus, as our group dynamic was untouchable and obviously envied by other groups. The weather was absolutely perfect every single day, especially the last day. The adventures were wonderful and irreplaceable. Taking the train back from Machu Picchu to Cuzco sealed the trek as one of the best experiences of my life; and I've done some pretty cool shit.
7:30 AM

I know I learned more from this adventure than I have yet realized, but I will wait patiently for these lessons to unfold in time. One of the Seven Wonders crossed off, a few Bucket List items completed, and a few steps closer to an intangible state I have yet to identify... Plus, Peruvian ceviche is amazing. I also managed to try alpaca (very similar to beef) and cuy (guinea pig, not as delicious as I had expected) which crossed off a few from my "Let's Eat Meat" list (yet to be published).
The Pumas

Weird meat, big rocks, and tube dancing aside, I know how fortunate I was to have been able to not only experience this, but to do it alongside so many wonderful people.

Hello, Bucket List...
Andean Inca Princess, signing out...

xx.a
P.S. I'm eating one of your relatives tonight.