Las Truchas

Okay guys, I promise this one is a shorter one.

My Sunday didn't come close to what I was expecting. On Sunday morning during breakfast my host dad asked if I wanted to go up to their land in the mountains. I've been up one time before (that's the blog that will be posted in May) and loved it. After my host mom convinced me that my homework wasn’t important, I agreed to go. I had been wearing a dress for the first time in Ecuador because I finally felt clean enough to – but that lasted about five minutes – I ran upstairs, changed back into my dirty jeans, and hopped in the car.

When we arrived at their plot of land, which oversees glorious Ecuadorian jungle and majestic mountains, my host dad told me that there was a walk that a couple of the boys working for them would be doing to get “las truchas” (a trout type of fish here), and that I was welcome to go. “Eh, why not?” I thought and joined the two boys waiting for me.

We commenced our walk straight down the mountain, and the older of the two boys (Andres), who was carrying nothing but a huge knife, asked what my name was. That shouldn’t be a hard question, but “Jordan” is a hard name in Spanish speaking countries and I haven’t figured out how to pronounce it the way my host family does. For Andres, I even used the “like Michael Jordan?” trick, but it didn’t work. He settled on “Yordy” which makes me laugh just typing it. The way down the mountain was steep, muddy, and full of branches etc. made none easier by the three dogs bounding along side us just waiting to trip us. At one point Andres turns back and says “vamos corriendo” which means “we go running” and the boys began running down the treacherous slope. I followed suit and eventually, somehow without breaking a limb, we made it to a cement pool of sorts. The water looked disgusting – varying shades of brown mostly - and I could see fish swimming about.

At the pool the boys stripped to their swim trunks and hopped in the pool holding a crate. Andres lowered the crate into the water and came up with truchas flipping and flapping everywhere. He tossed those truchas into another crate on the ground where they flapped around helplessly. It was kind of sad to watch and I wanted the fish to die faster because I was feeling bad about it until the younger guy, Carlos, stepped out of the pool and began breaking the necks of the truchas in the crate on the ground so that they wouldn’t flip out of it anymore. I don’t know which was worse.

Finally, when we had about 20 truchas, both boys got out of the filthy water and Andres pulled out his knife, picked up a fish, sliced it’s belly wide open, and tossed in in the crate that Carlos was sitting by. Carlos then picked it up, slide his hand inside the fish, and pulled out the intestines. He proceeded to take some other stuff out of the fish and then throw it all into another bucket that the dogs went at ferociously, meanwhile blood was spurting from everywhere due to Andres’ knife and Carlos’ removal job. They asked if I wanted to try it, but I didn’t really. Mostly because of how darn dirty those fish looked. I mean, fish are supposed to be slippery, but these were covered in dirt and probably poop and gross water and blood from the others or from the ones that Carlos had killed. No thank you. 

We spent the time chatting a bit, Andres didn’t really get the concept that I’m not *actually* the daughter of Bolivar (my host dad), and that the girl up in the pick-up isn’t *actually* my sister, but alas. (He also asked my birthday, got excited that it was two days after his, and then asked my horoscope sign. I wanted to be sassy about that, but I held it in.) 

Anyway, finally they got to the last fish and, half joking I think, Carlos handed it in my direction. Partially because I wanted to try and partially because I didn’t want the boys to think I was too girly for that kind of thing, I took it from him and without pause shoved my hand inside and felt the slippery intestines. Carlos had made ripping them out look easy, but, man, some of those things are attached well in there. This wasn’t made any easier by the fact that the fish was even more slippery than I imagined. If I thought cutting mango without a cutting board was challenging, I had another thing coming. Finally I got out everything that I needed too, Carlos looking unimpressed, but Andres congratulated me. I threw the rest of the insides to the dogs, put the now-cleaned-out-fish with the others and looked down at my hands and clothes. My hands were fully covered in red fish goo-blood and my clothes were spattered with it. I’ve included a picture to show the blood and guts that I was completely covered with. 

Well... it felt like a lot then. And I promise my hands were actually completely red and gooey. To be honest I kinda hope that one dot stays so I can show how BA I am.

Andres told me I should wash my hands in the pool water, so I took a deep breath, prayed that I didn’t have any open wounds that I didn’t know about, and plunged them in. I put some hand sanitizer on as soon as we got back to the truck, but who knows... After the intense trek straight up the mountain in which Andres asked me again if my sister in the pick-up truck also had blue eyes (no, we’re not actually sisters, but I do have a brother with green eyes in the United States where I am from and where I will live again after I am done with my semester abroad in Ecuador wherein I'm staying with this family), we made it back up to the top. I was breathing as though I’d just finished a 5k race and I hadn’t even been hauling the crate of fish like Andres. It was an intense "walk" as my host dad had called it.

I washed my hands a conservative guess of 47 times by the end of Sunday, but I could still smell the fish for another full day. I was slightly worried they were trying to haunt me. Well, one things for sure, when my host mom hands me a plate of trucha this week – from head to tail – it’ll be a little harder to stomach it all. Or not. I’ll keep you updated.

San Clemente: Parte Dos

[part 2]

            I was going to wait a bit to post this, but after this morning I have another adventure to get writing about, so here is San Clemente: Part 2. (Read part one here)

After the sick/coca leaf fiasco, the relaxed night of fire and music with the Pitzer crew and then a delicious dinner at my host family’s house that I ate with the other Americans was perfect. I got to hear more about the American middle schoolers – they’re really cool people – and then afterwards when I sat down to embroider with my host mom around the fire with the rest of the family sitting and listening to music (Juan is a musician so they were listening to his recorded stuff with Nataly singing) my host mom asked me what we had been talking about at dinner. It was fun to be a bit of a translator. Plus my host mom kept telling me I was good at embroidering! (Note: she did also tell me I was good at Spanish, so I know she was just being nice). After embroidering for a while, I played Uno with my American friends. A perfect kind of evening if you ask me.

            The next morning, after an unbelievable breakfast consisting of the best mango I’ve had in my life, empanadas, and a broccoli/carrot omelet, I said goodbye to the Americans (they were leaving that day) and went up to wait for the pickup truck that was dropping the Pitzer crew off on our hike for the day. The view in the truck was marvelous. San Clemente and the surrounding areas are stunning. The mountains are green and patchworked and fall into a luscious looking valley interspersed with lakes and small cities. Each family in San Clemente has their own plot of land higher in the mountains so I was able to learn the types of plants that grow in that region and see where my own family was getting their vegetables and meat. I enjoyed the hike too. There were more stunning views and Nina and I got to talk to some cows. We didn’t end up going to the top of the mountain, but the hike down was certainly an adventure. Martina led us a different way down that ended up being a couple hours longer and put us in a different community where Martina had to ask to directions back to San Clementine. To be honest, this was a struggle for a large portion of our group. I run every day that I can and even my quads were killing so I can only imagine how rough it must’ve felt without any preparation. Martina, however, (pause to mention: she was wearing a skirt, sandal-like shoes, and carrying a small child on her back) noticed that I was walking in the front and asked if I was an athlete. I told her I was a runner and she smiled and asked more. We were talking for a while when her older son finally interrupted to tell me that Martina was a runner too. I was really excited to hear that and I got to ask her about her running too. She’s really humble which, I assume, is why she didn’t say anything before, but as it turns out she is the person that represents San Clemente when there are races within the different indigenous communities. She’s basically superwoman is what I learned. Later, when we went to town to get ice cream, she found out my mom is a cross country coach so she was asking me all about the proper diet for runners. To be honest, when she said that I couldn’t help but picture the amazingly healthy meal she had prepared for us the first night versus the typical meal I eat in season (they all end with a large portion of ice cream…) and thought that she should be the one telling me what to eat. Regardless, it was so cool to form a bond with Martina over running, especially when she is, as I said a moment ago, essentially superwoman.

            Somehow we all made it safely back to San Clemente, ate lunch with our families, and met up around 2 to get down to the closest city, Ibarra, for “helado de paila”, a form of ice cream native to Ibarra that we’d heard about since arriving to Ecuador. Let me add here that last weekend was a festivity called “Carnival” in Ecuador, which equates to water, eggs, flour, and foam being thrown at everyone in form of celebration. Even the bus got pelted with water balloons as we made our way into the city. We had to be careful navigating our way to the ice cream, but we made it there completely dry. The ice cream was incredible. We all ended up getting four different scoops of all types of flavors. They had a huge selection of fruits and each was better than the last. We also all tried Ecuadorian “quesadillas” which are completely different than what we think of as quesadillas and do not actually contain cheese at all. It’s a form of sweet bread. We’ll just say we were well fed. Thanks Pitzer, for using our tuition money to let us eat tons of ice cream! (On the way back to Quito on Tuesday we also stopped and ate biscochos with hot chocolate, fresh cheese, and ice cream, so never fear, I am doing my best to take every opportunity to make each dollar count.) On the way back to the bus station to head back to San Clemente a few of us got foamed, but we managed to avoid some potentially big water disasters.

            That night during dinner my host brother had fun showing me some cool traditional Kichwa dances. I kept asking him to teach me, but he kept turning bright red and saying he wasn’t good. That isn’t true, he was really good – just too embarrassed and cool as an 17 year old boy to teach a 20 year old gringa. After dinner, which included chicken that I’m pretty sure had been wandering around the yard that afternoon, and the best tomato/onion/avocado salad I’ve even eaten, I went straight to bed.

 In the morning I had more amazing food. Really I wanted this whole blog to be about the deliciousness and freshness of the food I ate last weekend, but I thought that might get boring. However, the food was unbelievably incredible. My love for the food was solidified after helping my host mom make breakfast. When I asked if I could help, she handed me a huge knife and a mango. I’ve never peeled or cut a mango before let alone without a cutting board, but I managed to do so and luckily still have all of my fingers. I’m not sure how I pulled that one off. Anyway, as I was cutting, the water for the tea started boiling and I watched as my host mom jumped up from what she was doing, run out into the yard, come back with some leaves, rinse them off, and throw them in the pot. That, my friends, is real tea. The fresh tea combined with the second best mango in my life (cut by yours truly) and the freshly baked bread, I was a happy camper. I also got to make mango juice, which included cutting up yet another mango sans cutting board. Again, I am lucky to still have all of my fingers. Juice making definitely wasn’t my thing, because the mango juice ended up way too watery and pretty gross, but alas. I enjoyed trying.

I was really sweaty and dirty by that point in the weekend so I decided that I should be a big girl and test out the shower. I was skeptical, but it was better than making the 4 hour van ride back to Pitzer without having showered in four days. As it turns out that not only is the water hotter in rural San Clemente than the water at my house in Quito, but the water pressure is better too. Who would’ve guessed?

For my final hours in San Clemente, I sat in the yard with the bright and strong Ecuadorian sun finishing up my embroidery and then journaling (while intermittently [every 15 minutes] slathering on sunscreen [and still managing to get burned]) while Jesenya played with her tiny puppy Cherupa in the yard. I wish that I had a way to impart to you how tranquil and beautiful that morning was, but I don’t have words to describe the sweet pressure of the sun or the feeling of Jesenya leaning on my shoulder or the way my host mom’s constant smile instantly put a smile on my face too or even the way fields and sky laid out in front of us with seemingly nothing better to do than be beautiful. Any words fall short here.

My heart was heavy when I packed up and headed with my host mom and Nataly to the big picnic lunch for all the families. It was heavier still when I had to say goodbye. I teased Martina about how I wasn’t planning on leaving. Very seriously both my host mom and Martina told me I was welcome back anytime. I hope to take them up on that because this was one of the most beautiful weekends of my life. I like living up in the mountains and embroidering and helping cook (and eat) fresh foods. I like talking to my host mom, who opened up to me quickly. I like the strength of the sun. I like waking up in a freezing room to the sound roosters. I like not having wifi. I like how genuine the days feel. To be honest, I think that this was more of what I was expecting my abroad to be like, and although I am having and will continue to have a wonderful time in Quito, places like San Clemente are where my heart will always be.

San Clemente (parte uno)

I realize I haven’t blogged in almost two weeks (sorry Jessica), which is a new record for this blog. There are two main reasons for that: the first is that nothing much had happened (except a run with my brother-in-law which hopefully I’ll write about soon) since I last blogged about Baños until last weekend. I’m feeling settled here in Ecuador and am enjoying the fact that some days now just feel normal. The other reason is that what did happen last week that was different is not the ideal topic for a blog. I will say these things: 1. Check expiration date of foods PRIOR to eating them 2. Don’t eat expired foods, especially if said food is already slightly toxic to humans 3. A lot of dignity can go out the window in a matter of seconds (har har Brianne, see the pun?) 4. I have a new talent that if you want to know what it is, you’ll have to ask me.

Suffice it to say that last week was not my highlight of Ecuador thus far. However, bad weeks make the next weeks even better and my weekend certainly proved that as the Pitzer crew headed to San Clemente to enjoy the long weekend with our rural homestay families. It was so incredible that I’m doing this blog in two parts to capture what I can. Saturday was our travel day and after some confusion about the company sending us the wrong kind of car, we headed out. On the way we stopped at Otavalo, a huge market north of Quito. We shopped around and got some amazing deals (hammocks for $8 anyone?) then ate and continued on our way. A great bargaining strategy is to not actually know what you want so continuously walk away without being phased. Prices will drop fast. We made it to San Clemente and were greeted by the – actually I’m not sure what her title is – but she organizes things for the community and seems to be the leader and go-to person. Her name is Martina and I think that it’s fabulous that the community is run by a woman, especially with the machismo culture of Ecuador. They were very welcoming and we spent the late afternoon relaxing in their living room. Ami played guitar and I built the fire. Soon Sebastián came in with a yummy smelling pot of drink called, “caneleza” – which basically means sugar, cinnamon, and maybe some other sweet stuff. There’s a bigger story with that, but this (double) blog is long enough as it is. We ate dinner at Martina’s house and I ate nearly everything even though I was already full and then our host families came to pick us up. 

This went more how I expected the family pick up to go. We all waited in the house holding our stuff (including our 6 liters of clean water) and Martina stood in the doorway calling out our names as our families arrived. When my name was called I was told that my host mom wasn’t there, but that my brother, Edison, was there to pick me up. That did nothing to ease my nerves, especially after I went up to my brother as if to hug him and then stopped because it felt awkward so he went to shake my hand or something and I decided to finish giving him the hug (AND THE KISS ON [let's be real: in the air next to] HIS RIGHT CHEEK GO ME!) It was still awkward. Alas. Sebastián had told us that some houses were super close to Martina’s and others were at most a 15 minute walk or so. This was a lie. I’ve noticed that in Ecuador, people often make things seem a lot closer than they are. We began our trek in the dark with no flashlight or anything of that nature. It began quite treacherously. Edison was stoic with me up until the last evening of my stay so that first night he said nothing. Apparently the other families walking with us were warning their student about holes, pigs, and other dangerous things, but by some miracle I made it safely with no direction. I walked the same walk the next morning and it definitely was amazing that I didn’t break a leg or run into a pig. Regardless, we made it safely to the pebbly, cobbled road and began our ascent of what I can only call the mountain. A little girl began walking with me and eventually grabbed my hand at which point I figured out she was my host sister. I talked to her for a bit of the walk (hike) and my heart and nerves definitely melted right then. I had started the walk with Brianne, Sarah, and Marley and jealousy crept in as I watched them all go down into their houses. My lungs and I were extremely grateful when Edison finally pointed down, off the road, to a house and told me it was theirs. My host mom, María, greeted me, and introduced me to her husband, Juan, and her other daughter, Nataly, and showed me where the main bathroom (an outhouse typed deal) and my bedroom were. The room I was in was in a different house than what seemed like the main house. It was only 8:30 or so, but I was overly full and exhausted so they told me to rest and went back about their night. 

As I was journaling in bed, I heard American voices. I was incredibly confused and couldn’t figure out where they were coming from. I tried looking out the window, but it was pitch black so I couldn’t see anything. Finally I figured out that they must be in the room next to me or under me. I heard them talking about how they needed toothpaste so after brushing my teeth I went down and knocked on one of the doors to see if they needed to borrow mine. A boy answered, but it was clear he had been sleeping or about to sleep and I wasn’t feeling well so I hurriedly asked if he wanted to borrow my toothpaste and he said no, but that they might need it tomorrow and I said no problem, I explained that I was sleeping upstairs, I told him my name and then I left. When I went back upstairs I was still very confused as to why there would be Americans in rural Ecuador (aside from myself and the Pitzer students of course). However, I didn’t have time to wonder too much about it because I promptly felt very sick. I’ll skip the details, but I ended up throwing up and did not know what to do. I didn’t know where my family was or if it would be as bad as the last time I had been sick and I tend to worry, so I called Sebastián who said he would call the family and then come and get me so I could sleep in the house he was in in case it was like my Wednesday. 

Unfortunately one of my tendencies is to hold all emotions in until I can’t anymore, so I was pretty much sitting on my floor sobbing about many many random things [I haven’t run in three days, I want a hug from my mom, I forgot to pack my sun hat etc.] when María walked in. She talked to me soothingly and told me she was making tea and that it would all be alright. She tried to distract me by showing me her shirt that she had embroidered. My little sister, Jesenya, who had held my hand on the walk up came up too and María told me that when Jesenya had heard that I was sick she had been really worried and wanted to come see me. All of this was amazing and nice but I just couldn’t do anything but sit there (still on the floor) and cry. It was quite pathetic and I’m sure they were very confused because being sick is simply not that big of a deal. Eventually Edison came up with two cups of tea. María told me one “oregano” would make my stomach feel better and the other “coco” would make me feel better (in a more emotional/mental capacity) as well as help with my energy. I knew oregano was oregano and coco was coconut and had no idea how coconut would make me feel better, but as I was sitting on the floor crying I didn’t have many other options. I drank both and my stomach did feel better and I was feeling happier when Sebastián and Viviana collected me. By then it was 10 or so and we made the long walk down to Martina’s that I had so recently walked up. 

            By 11 or so I was in bed and feeling better after more tea from Martina. Apparently tea solves everything. The next day I woke feeling completely better and head on the now-lit, yet still dangerous, path to the soccer field. I ended up playing in part of the soccer tournament that the village was having. It was a blast. Marley, Ami, Lilly, and I all joined the San Clemente team. I hadn’t planned on playing so I was out in the field in my jeans with all of these very tough and prepared women (dura is the word in Spanish that most properly fits) from our community and the community we were playing against. It wasn’t pro soccer or anything, but I hadn’t played in years so I found myself cracking up at my mistakes and being grateful when any of the good players would have the ball. The men from the communities were all watching and laughing the whole time too, which I found a little rude, but let it go. To be fair, they definitely had reason to laugh, at least at me. Any time the ball came anywhere near my face I just dodged it. Being hit by something wasn’t on my priority list for the day. I can just imagine the men asking themselves, “who is the scaredy cat white gringa losing our game for us??” I played half and then was so exhausted that I ended up sitting out the second half. We did win that game and then again in the final game on Tuesday, which as it turns out, means that we helped win San Clemente a sheep. We’re invited back to the killing and eating of the sheep party that they’re having in a couple weeks. Awesome. 

Photo courtesy of Ami's camera

After the game Edison collected me and we trekked back up to the house. I was served lunch and ate it with Jesenya. Afterwards I asked Nataly if there was anything I could do or help with as I’d been told that there were always chores or at least embroidering to do in the rural stay, but she just told me to go rest. I was tired so I set my alarm for 3:30 (the Pitzer crew was meeting at 4 to hang out) and promptly fell asleep. I woke up before my alarm to the sound of loud American voices saying “are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” and then “NO! I think she said her name was… Jordan?” I decided I should make myself known at that point so I walked out the door to see a few middle school aged Americans sitting in the yard talking while María embroidered on the stoop watching them, looking confused. They looked at me and I said “I’m Jordan. I’m real - he wasn’t dreaming” They seemed surprised, but laughed and greeted me kindly. I talked a little with them and they told me why they were there etc. None of them spoke much Spanish so when I went over to María I asked about it and she explained that it was hard because she didn’t know what they needed or what they were talking about. She then asked if I wanted to learn to embroider to which I told her of course I did! It was fairly simple and, although I know I don’t seem like the housewife/embroider type, I enjoyed it immensely.

 

María and I were chatting as we embroidered and somehow tea came up and she asked if I wanted to see a “coca” leaf. I looked at my watch and realized I needed to head down to Martina’s so said that I needed to head out, but later I’d love to, and then something clicked. “¿Oja de coca?” I asked (coca leaf?) “¿Estaba en el té que me dio anoche?” (it was the tea you gave me last night?) Grinning, my host mom responded yes exactly! She seemed happy that I’d put two and two together. I’m sure I must’ve turned bright red at that point, but I thanked her again and scurried on my way to Martina’s house. You see, the night before, I thought she had said “coco” when she had said “coca” and “coca” is the plant that cocaine is made of. I had unknowingly drunk coca leaves. Of course I got very dramatic about having done drugs – especially after Sarah said that if I took a drug test anytime within 24 hours it would show traces of cocaine. I don’t actually know if that’s true, but I definitely didn’t expect to be doing my first drugs in rural Ecuador*. 

*Note: (particularly to future employers and Grammy) this is a joke. Coca leaf tea is not anywhere near cocaine. I have not and will not be doing drugs. 

[to be continued]

Casacadas, Columpio y Fuego en mi Cara

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.