i fell in love with a girl named quito

Quito. When I was looking to move abroad, all of these amazing places sprung into consideration. I imagined myself sipping Argentine wine in a romantically lit cobblestone courtyard in Buenos Aires while I watched locals and foreigners alike Tango and twirl. I saw myself bowing slightly to pass through the noren that hang in every restaurant throughout Japan, removing my shoes, and sitting amongst countless locals to eat the freshest sushi on earth while I practice my formal tea pouring and regional diction Japanese in Kyoto. I pictured myself eating tapas and viewing Gaudi's architecture along the streets of Barcelona before headed to the beach to sip Sangria and chat with the locals. Never did I think, "Hey, perhaps I will head to the Andes and try and build a life in a city I have never even seen a photo of", but therein lies the adventure.

I hadn't taken a Spanish class since Sra. Gallardo's Spanish class at Corona High School my sophomore year, and seeing as a solid decade had passed since then, I knew I was in for a challenge when I accepted a position in the capital of Ecuador. My sweet mother gifted me the South American and Ecuadorian Lonely Planet books (I live by these books) and I got started planning my new life... My new life in Quito. My mother and I popped open an ice cold bottle of champagne, poured two glasses worth into her fancy-schmancy crystal flutes, and opened the fresh, virgin pages of the travel guides to see what was in store for me.

On a side note: Admittedly, I am a bit of a planner. Ok, that is an understatement. I am a certified professional organizer and I love to plan, organize and make sense of things. I did do some research on Quito prior to my interview and my departure, but I found my gypsy spirit whispering, "Let go..." and so, for once, I did.

Back to the champagne. We drank, we read, we laughed, we dreamed. A short month later, I was sipping coffee with my father on the way to LAX as the sun seemingly chased us westward in the early November morning. Luggage in tow, containing carefully chosen articles, I sent vibes to this foreign city that would become my dwelling place for the next year. Would it become my home? Flash forward to the three month mark of my journey and I can say without hesitation that this city has become my home, my friend, and my lover.

My feet have grown accustom to the often jagged terrain of the streets and sidewalks that aid my navigation of Quito. I find that I need match my eyes to my steps less and less with each passing step and each passing day. The sounds of airplanes in the distance blend naturally with the clamor of honking taxis, buses shifting gears, and the symphony of car alarms that sound off endlessly throughout the city.

It is amazing to ride the blue city buses and watch contently out whichever window sports that day's adventure. Seeing something new every time, it allows the association of times passed to be connected with new sights, inciting, "I've been there before..." as connections are made. I am truly beginning to know this city. I am falling in love with her curves- both those soft and seductive, as well as those dangerous and elusive- as she allows me to explore them with the curiosity of a child. I have grown accustomed to the temperamental and fickle weather, just as women are perceived to be. As I leave my home some mornings, drenched by the time I reach the bus and taxi hub at the bottom of my hill, only to find myself peeling my coat and scarf off under the intense equator sun as I exit my class just a few hours later. The altitude, around 9,000 feet, depending on your location, offers a hospitable home for rolling, white clouds and constantly changing views in every direction. At night, when the sun rests, the fog rolls in like a team of bandits in the Wild West, occupying street corners and slowing traffic to a cautious roll. Quiteños fear not this timid fog, still linking arms and wandering the streets of La Mariscal in search of cuba libres and reggaeton music.

My ears have ceased searching for English in the sea of Spanish palabras (words) and have sat back in the hammock next to my brain and begun enjoying the challenge that has thus become a game: Learning Spanish. Reggaeton, Salsa, and Meringue music please my inner musician and songs have become familiar, just as in the States.

The incredible preservation and restoration of Centro Historico (Old Town) Quito has helped it quickly become one of my favorite areas to pass the time. Classic Colonial buildings are flanked by the soft, golden lights that guide locals and tourists alike down the streets towards canelazo and empanadas. Massive churches with ornate entrances remind us all that there is something greater than us, and we should all remember to not outgrow out britches. Street performers and beggars alike cast hopeful eyes in the direction of those who pass by and handfuls of plata (change) become the sought after treasure battled for by all.

Parque la Carolina, Quito's answer to Central Park, beckons to all who must pass by on their way to work or school. Flanked on the North side by an art exhibit of massive hummingbirds that have been decorated by local artists, Parque la Carolina hosts jungle gyms, museums, paddle boats, islands, bridges, a skate park, grassy knolls, basketball courts, soccer fields, shady trees, and all sorts of guests who use the park for their own benefit.

My legs have grown accustomed to the countless hills that are to be climbed on my daily rounds and I have found that my daily retirement upon my pillow is always truly welcomed. It has never failed, however, that my mind and body rejoice in venturing out again into my city when it calls upon me.

When I am sick, she lulls me to sleep with her many voices. When I am weary, she reminds me of the incredible, bustling life going on around me. When I grow lonesome, she provides me thousands of people to listen to and watch. When I find myself lost, she shows me a sliver of curving mountaintop or a peak at a street sign, and I have once again found my way. When I feel like dancing, sweet Quito delivers me music to entice my soul and my hips.

She is a good lover, this Quito, and I seek to enjoy every last day with her...

young & restless: grey matter turns to gold

In this society of instant gratification, the majority of us are impatient, demanding & spoiled.  Be it by the technology we are addicted to, the speed at which news (whether it is juicy gossip or that stuff that happens to people and countries and... stuff) travels, or the easily developed (and just as easily terminated) relationships we are involved in or witness to.  If my iPhone 4 takes more than a few seconds to load my facebook feed, I find myself letting out a sigh and tapping my fingers on the back of my overpriced phone. 

Not sure if you are restless and spoiled?  Ask yourself these questions:

-If my significant other takes over 2 minutes to respond to my text, do I resend? Twice? 
-If someone else knows about Britney's newest break-up before me, am I jealous? 
-If my significant other pisses me off, am I quick to tweet they're a douche & dump them?
-If my dinner takes more than 15 minutes to make, do I pop in a frozen dinner?


That all seems a bit on the negative side, though.  In fact, it doesn't even really seem like those are symptoms of restlessness... they more lean towards spoiled. I decided to ask a few people whose opinions truly matter, those that often have surprising insight.  (Here I must admit, it shouldn't be surprising after the months and years that I have known them, and for that I admit I am fortunate to know them and thank them for being them!)


A good friend of mine, when asked by me his take on restlessness, stated simply & truthfully, "Restlessness seems to be a form of inspiration to you in general, you should always remain restless!"  I like to think of myself as a relatively perceptive person when it comes to myself, though I will admit that my focus remains on others and their habits, but this stopped me in my immersed and focused tracks.  This is absolutely true! Being restless does not necessarily mean one is unhappy with their current circumstances, just that they are in need of enriching their lives even more.  


There is so much grey area with every topic nowadays: We are not limited to 'liberal' & 'conservative', we have 'moderate', amongst others. We are not limited to 'straight' & 'gay', we have 'bi', amongst others.  We are not limited to 'happy' & 'sad', we have countless emotionally-based adjectives.  The same can be said for the types of restlessness we encounter.   


I asked one of my dearest & most insightful friends his take on restlessness, doing my best not to try and predict his response. He stated, "Restlessness only occurs when you're waiting for something; so focus on the journey to attaining what you're wanting/waiting for. It's a positive sign, it's noble & worthy".  Another positive response from such a great mind.  I started thinking about how I am actually feeling when asked, "How are you?" and I respond, "Well, but restless..." I am in fact sans negative feelings.  I am quite happy, content even, with where I am in my life.  But am I satisfied?  Hell no.  Therein lies the difference, the definitive understanding muddled in all this grey matter: Being restless means I am wanting more, wanting to better myself, not settle for what I am currently experiencing... But that does not mean that I am ungrateful for that which fills the days of my life at this current time.  


Word of warning: We must be careful not to confuse the restlessness with boredom, apathy, frustration or indecisiveness!  Boredom is your own failure to recognize potential in your day & yourself.  Apathy is merely ungratefulness & laziness and, to quote a classic, the glove into which evil slips its hand (ok, Van Wilder isn't a classic per se, but it might be... one day...).  Frustration is, again, the failure to take advantage of potential, but also stifling yourself on a half dozen different levels!  The greatest of all these sins is indecisiveness.  It is the best way to lose a fantastic opportunity, the worst way to show someone that they are not a priority in your life, and a ridiculous way to live- allowing time and opportunities pass you by as though they are a renewable resource.  Restlessness does not embody any of these, and recognizing that is the first step to identifying your source of restlessness.  Those who confuse their restlessness with these or any other negative emotion are not connected with their true self, nor their emotions.  I hope this encourages us all to reevaluate our current situations and our honest levels of contentment and progress.  I look forward to this part of my journey... and remaining restless. 


Restlessness is discontent and discontent is the first necessity of progress. Show me a thoroughly satisfied man and I will show you a failure. -Thomas Edison


xx.a