Things I can promise my loyal readers (Zach) in this blog:
classic Spanish misunderstandings, beautiful Ecuadorian country, and fire being
thrown around my face – but this is a long one so stick with me. If you're not going to read all of it (I know your time is limited Mom...), the best story is the last main one.
After deciding to go (and then not to go
and then to go…) to Baños this weekend I told my host mom and she corrected me
once again (“Baños – no LOS baños”) we set out on our way after class on
Friday. We made it to Baños late Friday night and after finding a cheap, clean
hostel we were all hungry. We left feeling ready to take on Baños and promptly walked
the wrong direction for about twenty minutes before deciding not to walk up the
slightly sketchy steep road (look safety trainers! We took ourselves out of a
situation that could have gotten us mugged!). We turned around and ended up at
the main street, which happened to be less than five minutes from the hostel
(don’t walk 20 minutes anywhere in Baños because you probably went too far). We
did end up getting some good dinner before turning in (or up) for the night.
Saturday was probably my favorite day in Ecuador thus far. The night before
we had made our game plan and although it didn’t quite work out that way, but I’d
argue the way it ended up happening was better. Before breakfast we got set up
with a tour of the Route of Waterfalls starting at 2. We then got breakfast at Café
Blah Blah (so good, I highly recommend it: Marley’s breakfast was pancakes with
ice cream on top so how can you go wrong) and it was hilariously fun, just full
of great stories and yummy food and lots of laughter. I am loving getting to
know everyone on the program better and better. Once we were all served our
breakfast the owner asked us if she could take a picture to post on their
website. What can I say; we’re a good-looking (and diverse) group ;)
After breakfast we made plans for a night
tour of the active volcano that Baños is situated under. It would leave at 9. In
the time we had before 2, we decided to head up to the recommended natural
baths of Baños. We went to the one the tour book said was the cleanest and the
one that the locals used most. We caught a bus up and assumed it would come
around every fifteen minutes or so like the ones in Quito to take us back down.
I didn’t get in the baths, partially because I hadn’t been feeling well and
partially because of my experience in Peruvian natural baths. (Let’s just say,
if your kid is going to pee in the water, do you really have to lift him up to
demonstrate to everyone else in said pool that he is doing so???) Anyway I
enjoyed my book while the others enjoyed the water. Once they were out and dry
we walked to the bus stop and stood there for a little while before being told
by a man in his store that the buses don’t actually come up this way. We
managed to grab taxis that were taking people to the baths and make it down to
the hostel by 1:55. Not that that mattered because the van was late anyway.
Ecuadorian time, man.
To our surprise, when the unmarked off
white van pulled up in front of the hostel the driver hopped out and Jaime
jumped in the driver’s seat. It looked like his was going to be our guide for
the day. He showed us each of Baños’ beautiful waterfalls and was confused
about why we all refused the $3 ziplining (look Pitzer, we’re following your
rules!) But also, do I want to go ziplining somewhere that it only costs $3???
The last waterfall, El Pailon del Diablo, was my favorite. We got to cross two
wooden bridges over the river and hike right down to where the water was
hitting an overhang and splashing over it. Essentially, the unbelievably
forceful waterfall was cruising over our heads. Unbelievably stunning.
We switched drivers for our next stop of
Casa del Árbol where the Swing at the End of the World resides. Saturday was
foggy, which had its benefits and drawbacks. The already enchanted feeling
place (or would be enchanted feeling with less people…) was made more magical
with the mist, but it was impossible to see the view. There are two swings and
they are attached to a tree house on the edge of the mountain. For someone who
hates edges, I had been weirdly excited for this moment since I had learned I’d
be going to Ecuador and that this swing existed. Once you get to the swing you
fascine a loose rope around you and then let fly. It’s exhilarating and I loved
every terrifying second. As we were leaving the sky opened to reveal the ridges
of more mountains and a rainbow. We got back in our unmarked off-white van with
the driver who didn’t speak English and were delivered back to our hostel. After
a few minutes of nap time we got dinner and were off to our next adventure. Keep
reading guys – this part is the best.
When I heard “volcano night tour” I assumed
we’d be driven up to the volcano with a couple other people and then led around
on a night hike in hopes to see some minor eruptions of the active and
unpredictable volcano. All I can really say to that now is: no. We were greeted
by a throng of people all hustling to these “Chivas” these wooden car/cart
automobile that wouldn’t be allowed on private property in the US let alone
filled with 30+ people crammed onto bench seats with no windows or much siding
at all up and down windy and steep mountain roads in the pitch black night. I
got a seat on the side and enjoyed the mountain air on my face and we raced by
all the other packed neon Chivas going to the same place. There was Latin
American music playing loudly and I couldn’t help but grin as I realized I had
no idea what I’d just gotten myself into. At the top we got a history lesson
and a safety talk, which I couldn’t catch much of except “don’t freak out if
the volcano starts erupting.” As I told Brianne, the crowds and the eeriness reminded my of the Quidditch World Cup in Harry Potter. We were then given some sugary, sweet drink that
when I asked if it had alcohol in it, my guide pulled out a separate “water”
bottle and went to pour some of that in my drink. I grabbed my drink quickly
and said no thank you then ran off to were the 100 or more people had gathered
in a circle.
Naturally, there were a couple guys
performing some tricks with lighted torches. Before long they asked for a
volunteer – or, more exactly, a victim. No one moved. Well, except me. Something
possessed me to whisper, “should I do this?” to Brianne and then without
waiting for an answer, step into the middle. At that point Brianne yelled “¡Ella!”
and the guys looked surprised, but had me joint them. A bunch of thoughts were
running through my head at this point from “wait what did I just do” to “Pitzer
probably wouldn’t be stoked about this” to “so this is how people make
memories” until I heard Caroline, who was standing with all the other Pitzer
people across from where Brianne and I had been standing, say “What is she
doing?!” and then all I could do was laugh. The performers gave me a place to
stand, told me to sway side to side if I got scared, made a ton of jokes – most
of which questioned my safety – and then began their next act. Looking back,
I’m surprised and grateful I followed their rapid Spanish because a couple
seconds later the first lit torch sailed millimeters away from my face. Okay,
maybe it was inches, but I felt the heat and that was enough. There are
pictures/video somewhere so I’ll get back to you on the accuracy of how close
the flames were. This terrifying experience continued for a few minutes – In my
head I was grinning and laughing, but I have no idea how I was reacting
physically aside from the fact that I kept swaying backwards as fire flew by my
face only to realize a couple minutes in that there was probably fire going
behind my head too. There was. Finally they stopped, made a few more jokes
about my safety, and then after cheers, let me go back to my spot, where I
stood smiling hugely and shaking for the rest of the night.
The Chivas on the way down were just as
good as on the way up and I’d be remiss to leave out the fact that over 24
hours later, I still had the beat of a Latin American pop song stuck in my
head. The whole way back down to Baños all I could think about was how this is
a wonderful life to be living.
The next day we stopped by the church
museum before getting on our way back to Quito. I didn’t go in due to not
having a huge desire to see poorly done taxidermy and still not feeling my
best, but with Caroline, Brianne, Sarah, and Nina came back out they were bursting with laughter because who was selling the admissions tickets? None other than the
flame-throwers. I guess everyone needs a day job.
We all made it home eventually after the
bus to Quito in which a guy had hopped on to rap and was sure to stop at our
rows to call each of us out individually as either beautiful or by being
offensive. Caroline, Lilly, and I got back to our neighborhood around 7 and I
walked in my house to find my relatives preparing to celebrate my host mom’s
birthday (which is today) with tea and cake. I was so exhausted that when I met
my other, mysterious, host sister and her husband I didn’t have time to be
surprised. Eventually my host mom caught on to my weariness (perhaps after
telling my host brother-in-law that I had two kids and responding to my host
dad in English) and she let me shower and sleep.
I was still so tired this morning that when
my host mom offered me cake for breakfast, I looked at her like she was an
alien and asked what cake was. She then gestured to the remains of her birthday
cakes from yesterday. I know that sounds like every kid’s dream come true, but
I still can’t imagine cake for breakfast so I had to say no. When I arrived to
class this morning, I made a pillow out of my sweatshirt and attempted to nap
for the five minutes before class began. That is – until another exchange
student walked in and exclaimed, “Are you hung-over too!?” I’m pretty sure my
look of shocked confusion said enough because she added “…because of the Super
Bowl.” I assured her I wasn’t hung over, but I don’t think I pepped up enough
to convince her.
Hopefully I'll be able to start my volunteer work this week and can post the promised volunteer blog.
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