Rainy Season

It´s rainy season in Cusco, and it hasn´t taken me long to figure out that the weather here is a pain in the pompis. I thought the weather in Quito was crazy, but it wasn´t quite like this. When I leave the house, it will be very cold and rainy, so I´ll bundle up and wear a rain jacket. Three blocks later, I´m shedding all my layers and working up a sweat because the sun came out and it´s warm immediately. It works the other way around, too. The other day when they took us on a "practical" city tour (showing us the markets, the good restaurants, pharmacy, etc.) my rain coat was off and on for 2 hours. I think I need to invest ($1) in an umbrella. It may be a bit easier.

Apartment (or mud hut) Hunting in Cusco

First on my list of things to do in Cusco is to find an apartment, or a mud hut, as some of you prefer to believe. The school has a house for teachers and volunteers to stay until I can find my own place. It was free the first two days I was here, but now I'm paying $15 a day. This includes 3 meals a day prepared by an actual chef who wears the chef jacket and hat and makes delicious chocolate cake (but also some other strange desserts, like tonight's jelly that tasted like cinnamon toothpaste) as well as the wireless internet access that I'm currently using. I'm sure it sounds crazy that I want to leave, but I want to do my own cooking and unpack. While I don't mind sharing my room with two others for a few days, it's a little cramped. It's time to get settled.

Lucky for me, I met up with two other new teachers who need a place to live, Alayne, from San Diego, and Jake, from Chicago. (I found out why there are no Americans in Ecuador: they're all in Peru.) We started looking right away on Monday morning. The first place we looked at wasn't much of a step up from a mud hut, and the woman wanted way too much. All because it was in a neighborhood not far from the Plaza full of winding, cobblestone alleyways. Charming, yes, but I want a stove and a refrigerator. The next 3 apartments were each a step up, and the 4th was the winner. We looked at a few more, but kept coming back to that 4th one. It's an adorable little carriage house behind a house with windows for walls (even for the bedrooms, but there are curtains) and skylights for ceilings, so on the rare occasion that the sun is shining in Cusco, it's nice and sunshine-y, with a garden and clothes line in the front. It is also home to the world's ugliest furniture. The sofa and chairs are a matching set, half-leather and half hideously bright orange faux leopard print. AWESOME. I already have the purple sofa photo set, and I believe it is time for an ugly sofa photo set. The only drawback is that it's a bit far from the city center, but it's in a great neighborhood. Everything we need is right around the corner, from the grocery store, the bakery, and the ice cream shop (very important). We're signing our contracts tomorrow, and my monthly rent, including cable, will come out to $100 a month. I think it will be great fun. Like Three's Company, only in Peru, and Jake doesn't have to pretend he's gay. (I just want to point out that I've never actually seen Three's Company, but that's what I've been told it's all about.) We move in on Friday.

GOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLL! (Or not so much)

I'm American, so I don't really care about soccer, but I had the opportunity to go to a real Latin American soccer game on Thursday evening, so I went. By the way, when I emailed Mark to tell him I was going, he suggested that I might get lucky and witness a riot. I think we have different ideas about what equals a good time.

Anyway, the atmosphere was unlike anything I've ever witnessed. The game was just a friendly (apparently the president of FIFA says you can't play real matches above a certain elevation, and Quito is above that elevation) between the champion of Ecuador and the champion of Columbia, but you'd never know it. It's intense. The singing, chanting, cheering, and dancing never really stopped. After a penalty was called on Ecuador, a new chant started that I assumed was pretty rude. Carlos confirmed my suspicion. But this is a family blog, so I won't repeat it here. If you want the uncensored version, you'll just have to email me. (I bet you can't guess what their idea of stadium food is..... What's that? Soup with potatoes, you say? That's right! Soup with potatoes and pork skin to be exact. I'll take my peanuts and cracker jacks, thank you.)

I was told it wasn't a very good game, but I couldn't tell. It all looked like a lot of running back and forth and not scoring to me. (I did, however, realize what a strange and unpleasant sensation it is to be the girl who doesn't have a clue as to what is going on a sporting event. I don't like it.) In the end, Columbia won, 1-0. And, while there was a skirmish on the opposite end of the stadium, there were no riots. Sorry to disappoint you, Larson.

My apologies, for whatever reason, I'm unable to post some of the video I took of the game. If you're dying to see it, email me. Actually, if you're still reading, email me anyway. I'd love to hear from you!

No One Wants to Spend the Night in Lima

There are not many situations more depressing than spending the night alone in the airport, but that's what I did last night in Lima. It wasn't much fun. Let me back up a bit:

I had to leave class early on Friday to get to the airport. We were having class at a museum, so I said my "chao"s in the middle of the museum. I'll miss that class, we had a lot of fun. I walked back to the school, grabbed my bags, and headed to the airport. Quito's airport is easily the most confusing airport I've ever been in. That's a pretty impressive accomplishment considering it consists of about 5 or 6 gates. It just doesn't have much flow like other airports. The flight to Lima wasn't too pleasant since I was sitting in front of a screaming child who liked kicking the back of my seat. I think they blamed it on his ears being in pain, which makes me kind of want to forgive him, because I have certainly been there, but he was just as loud and annoying in the airport. Plus, when my ears are in pain, I don't kick and scream, I just suffer in silence.

I got to Lima around 8ish pm. I had to check in again for my flight to Cusco at 3:30 am. I couldn't check my bag, so I threw it on a cart and had to push it around all night. It's pretty annoying when you're by yourself and you have to bring all your luggage with you into the bathroom. I tried to control my water intake. Eventually I found a kinda-sorta comfortable position that allowed me to sometimes doze off with my feet propped up on my luggage. I really loved it when they ran the motorized floor sweeper thing between 1 and 2 am. That was great.

We boarded our flight on time, then the pilot came on and said non-chalantly that it would be another hour before we could take off because of the weather in Cusco. Two and a half hours later, we were still sitting in Lima and they told us to get off the plane. Not usually a good sign. The delay wasn't as bad as it could have been, and we got into Cusco a mere 5 hours after schedule.

An employee of the school picked me up at the airport and dropped me off at my temporary lodging (with wireless access!) just in time for lunch. I was starving. My miniscule ham and cheese sandwich on the airplane hadn't exactly lasted that long. He asked me what kind of foods I didn't like, and this time I didn't beat around the bush. I said I don't like potatoes, vegetables, or fish. (Obviously the list is much longer, but I didn't have all day, and those are the biggest offenders.) So what did I get for lunch? Soup (of course!) with potatoes, vegetables, and fish eggs. Plus a pear, I think, just to throw in a random fruit. I accidentally ate some of the fish eggs without knowing what they were. I don't really want to talk about it. Everyone who is here at the house assured me that that was the wierdest food they've been served, and that it is normally much better. Still, I really need to get my own place so I can cook for myself.

Good news: No altitude sickness problems (yay for Quito!) Several people told me they were sick for days when they first got here. AND the school offers free salsa lessons. I already went this evening. It was a bit basic for me. :P

Ecuador: In Retrospect

I´m leaving for Peru tonight. My time in Ecuador went at warp speed; I can´t believe it´s time to move on already. I went to my first fútbol game last night, but I´ll write about that later when I can post some video. For now, I´ll just take this opportunity to wax poetic over my time in Ecuador.

Quito, as a city, is not bad. It definitely has personality. If I wanted to complain, I´d say that it´s a bit dirty and that there are ferrell dogs all over the place. I´ve seen more than one case of Discovery Channel-like perro amor, but I think this may be an issue all over South America, so I guess I better get over it. Now I understand why the CDC recommends a rabies vaccination when traveling to South America, but they also recommend it when traveling to Colorado, so how am I supposed to know when it´s really necessary?

For me, though, Ecuador has been more about the people I´ve met than anything else. Sure, we did cool things in Mindo, but the reason that weekend was so awesome was because the people who went were so awesome. My host family has been wonderful, and my teacher, Carlos, was great. I only hope I have half the patience with my students as he did with us. (And we have butchered his language a lot.) And then there´s the salsa. I only hope they salsa as much in Peru.

My fellow Americans that I´ve met have been anything but the "typical" American traveler. You know, the loud ones who keep complaining that nothing is like home. (Lea even told me I was the nicest American she´s ever met. Awwww.) In fact, the first two weeks I was here, there was a group of British girls who were pretty darn loud and annoyed pretty much everyone. I´m so used to the Americans being the loud obnoxious ones that it was kind of refreshing for another country to take the heat.

Our pub quiz team on Tuesday came away victorious. It helped that we were representing the U.S., Britian, Norway, Sweden, and Germany. That and there was a "Friends" category, and Laura and I know all the words to "Smelly Cat." It wasn´t really fair. Free round of cerveza for everyone. (Of course, I didn´t partake in the prize, I just basked in the glow of victory while everyone else did.)

Yesterday, I went sightseeing in the Old Town with Kris, who´s from Norway. (I can´t say his first name, and neither can you, so he just goes by Kris when traveling abroad.) We went into the museum of the Monestary of San Francisco. We didn´t have a guide, and everything was in Spanish, so we "translated" or just made up stories. Definitely more fun than reading the truth in English.

It´s kind of disappointing to have to start all over again after meeting so many great people. But then again, many people have already moved on and everyone else will be leaving soon enough. Luckily, a lot of them will be moving on through Cuzco, so I´ll be seeing a lot of them again soon enough.

The Host Family

Somehow, my stay in Ecuador is nearly over. For the last two and a half weeks, I´ve been living with the Jordan family, about a 10 minute walk from the Spanish school. The Jordans live pretty comfortably in a 3 story home. I have the 3rd floor to myself, with my own bathroom. Sometimes, the showers are hot, but mostly just lukewarm. I don´t really have too much to complain about, though.

I mostly interact with my host mother, Elvia. She´s the one who feeds me, and she usually eats with me. At first, our conversation was pretty darn limited, seeing as she speaks about as much English as I speak Spanish, and while it´s still limited, it´s gotten much better. For the most part I´m able to understand and be understood.

The main difficulties with Elvia have been (a. She serves me waaaaay too much food. Whether I like it or not, I can´t always eat that much. I tried suggesting smaller portions, but it didn´t do much good. And (b. She´s a bit overprotective. I think it´s because she has 3 sons and no daughters, but I´m pretty sure she´d prefer it if I just didn´t leave the house. This was a bit confusing at first, because I wasn´t sure when I actually needed to take a taxi or when she was just being a bit strange. I had to ask around to find out when the taxi was necessary. (Ex. She wanted me to take a taxi coming home from class, before it´s actually dark out. Not necessary. She also suggested I not bring my camera with me when I go out. What´s the point?)

I see Señor Jordan occasionally at meals, but mostly he just shuffles around the house, carrying his little radio. He´ll be at the table in the dining room, listening to some talk radio show, then when he´s done, he´ll unplug his radio, shuffle into the living room, and plug it back in.

Like I said, they have 3 sons. All of them are a bit older than me, and 2 of them live at home. I´ve seen them only a handful of times. All I know is that Rodrigo is getting married next month and he likes to sing. Jamie is very tall, according to Ecuadorian standards, and speaks the best English out of all of them. He translated a few things for me when I first got here, but I don´t think I´ve seen him in the last week. I finally met Juan the other day for about 2 minutes. I was attempting to eat some mashed potatoes when a small boy came running into the dining room. I assume he belongs to Juan.

They also have a cleaning lady, who is a tiny, tiny woman. She barely comes up to my chest level. She took me to the pharmacy to get me some medication for the allergy issues that suddenly popped up when I got to Quito. It was necessary for her to come with me since I couldn´t just grab a box of Claritin off the shelf, but had to actually talk to a pharmacist. I assume she got me the right meds, because I stopped sneezing immediately. She also addresses me as Señorita. I find this hilarious. By the way, if you want to hear something really funny, listen to the locals attempt to pronounce Rowedder. They usually give up after the 5th or 6th try and ask if it´s ok if they just call me Kelli. That´s Señorita Kelli, thank you very much.

Dropping The Bomb

After two weeks, and only 4 days to go, I finally dropped the potato bomb last night. I was eating my soup, as I do every stinkin´night for dinner, and had eaten all of it except for the potatoes, when my host mother finally asked me if I liked potatoes. I answered in the negative. I half expected her to treat me as if I had just told her I skin dalmation puppies to make fur coats, but instead she laughed. She laughed a lot. Then she asked if the people of Pennsylvania don´t eat potatoes, and I tried to explain that everyone in the world eats potatoes but me. I think my life would have been a lot easier if I had just ´fessed up from the beginning.

I knew coming here that one of two things was going to happen: I was going to learn to eat potatoes or I was going to lose a lot of weight. Well, I´m never going to learn to eat potatoes. It´s just not gonna happen. I´ve tried. When I was served mashed potatoes yesterday for lunch, I ate as much as I could by putting a little bit on the back of my tongue, then swallowing it whole and washing it down with passion fruit juice, but I could only do it for so long. Seriously, what is the big deal?

Otavalo, Papallacta, etc.

I took two day trips this weekend, my last in Ecuador. (Already?!) On Saturday, we crammed 9 of us into a land cruiser and went to Otavelo, an indigenous market town. Sure, it's touristy, but it's still authentic. At the market, you're expected to haggle over the prices. You can see the wheels of the seller turning when they see a gringo, wondering how much they can get out of them. I was with Lea most of the morning (I was spelling her name wrong before. My apologies. I know just how annoying that is.), who was afraid to haggle at first, but boy did she get the hang of it. It was her last day in Ecuador, and she had dollars to spend and people to buy for, so she had a lot of practice. I hit up the yarn booth, and didn't even bother haggling when I heard the price: 65 cents a skein. En serio? I'm used to going to the yarn shop and spending more money on yarn than I do on food, so I had a hard time understanding the price she was telling me. If only I had a set project so I could stock up.

After lunch we hiked to a waterfall. (I didn´t jump off this one.) The hike involved some serious rock climbing, which none of us were really prepared for, but we were all game. At one point, a few cows appeared in the middle of the path. (Don´t worry, Amy, I took pictures for you!) A couple local kids helped us get them out of the way. These kids were not cute. They were not very good kids. They threw water on us and tried to move the cows by throwing stuff at them. The cows got mad and starting coming toward us, at which point Laura grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the way. (Gracias!) The kids decided to follow us for awhile, until they got bored and moved on.

On Sunday, we took another day trip to Papallacta, which are hot springs way up in the mountains. It was an absolutely gorgeous day when we left Quito, so I figured I could work on my tan and possibly look a bit less like a gringo (until I open my mouth anyway). The drive up to Papallacta was extremely windy and incredibly bumpy. The higher we went, the closer the clouds got until we were in them completely. So much for my tan. When we arrived, it was pretty darn cold. I wasn´t really in the mood to take my clothes off and put on a bathing suit, but, like Iceland, I knew the hot water would be waiting for me. And it was. The water was really really hot. After a while, we all had to get out, jump in the cold pool, then get back in the hot pool. It was pretty relaxing.

For lunch, we hit up a seriously off the beaten path restaurant that can only be known by locals. Their specialty is trout, which they catch right outside the restaurant, cook it, and serve it up whole, complete with eyeballs. (I was pretty grossed out when Martin patted his on the head and said, "You had a nice life, mate.") I obviously did not eat the fish, but had a porkchop instead. It was by far the most amazing pork chop I´ve ever eaten in my life. I had no idea pork chops could be so good. From what I heard from the others, the trout was equally amazing. (Martin kissed his on the mouth, partly because it was that good, but mostly to get a disgusted reaction out of me. It worked.)
After lunch we took another mini-hike to yet another waterfall. This one, however, was a hot spring, so you could see the hot water bubbling up from the ground, and the steam rising out of the water. Pretty cool.

Victory of the day: Sunday night, I was served soup without potatoes!!!! It was plain old regular noodle soup! Huzzah! (I never thought I would cheer over soup.)

Walking the Line

On Friday our class went to Mitad del Mundo, or the Middle of the World, or the equator, if you prefer. In order to get to the equator, we took the public bus. It took about an hour and cost a whopping 40 cents. On the bus ride over, I, along with most of my class, had to stand. Standing on a public bus in Ecuador is no easy task. It was quite a workout trying to stay upright, what with all the herky-jerky starting and stopping. Most of the time we resembled a bunch of wheebles, but luckily never bowling pins. In the seat next to me, there was an adorable little boy standing up in his seat and falling asleep. I would have gladly let him sit on my lap in exchange for his seat.

When we got there, we went straight for the real equator, not the fake one a few yards away. I pointed out to Martin that we were standing on different hemispheres and tried to give him a high-five from the southern hemisphere, but he thought I was trying to hold his hand (wishful thinking?) so it didn't work out so well. They did all sorts of science experiments to prove we were actually at 0'00.00 latitude. First they did the old water down the drain trick. Our guide emptied water from a tub right on the equator, and it went straight down without any whirlpools forming, then moved the tub a few feet in either direction to see the whirlpool going counter clockwise and clockwise. I know that this is a myth, but it worked. (I even had it explained to me by a Canadian physics teacher as to why it is a total myth, but I tuned out of that conversation pretty quickly, so I can't repeat any of it.) Then we tried balancing an egg on the head of a nail. I almost had it twice, but I swear the wind took it down. It's also really hard to walk in a straight line on the equator, due to centrifugal forces or something like that (see photo).

The complex includes indigenous houses and artifacts, as well as a sampling of Amazonian creatures, including the fish that makes it very dangerous to pee in the Amazon. Even the German students knew about this fish, thanks to an episode of Grey's Anatomy where the guy has a fish stuck up his you-know-what. (See? That show is educational as well as entertaining.)

Book Review: Love in the Time of Cholera

I received a copy of Love in the Time of Cholera , by Gabriel Garcia Marquez for my birthday (thanks, Chris!) and I saved it for my trip to South America, which was a pretty good idea. I know Garcia Marquez is Columbian and I am in Ecuador, but you´d never know it. Everyone here loves him. If they see what I´m reading, they go on and on about how great he is and then start listing everything else he´s ever written.

Anyway, I didn´t expect the book to be that great. I know it´s a classic, but let´s be honest: Classic often equals boring. This one started out that way, but picked up a bit after the first chapter. The plot wasn´t what I expected either (man falls in love, gets rejected, waits 50 years for his beloved´s husband to die so he can make his next move). My one complaint is that the chapters (which aren´t numbered) are about 50 pages long, and there are no breaks in those 50 pages, so it´s not easy to find a stopping point. Recommended.

Cultural lessons learned

I´ve been in Quito for about 10 days now, and here are some of the most important lessons that I´ve learned:

-Pedestrians never have the right of way. Even if the little green man is walking. The sooner you learn this, the less likely you are to become roadkill.
-When dancing, partner choice is everything. I know they have adorable accents, but stay away from the English boys. They don´t know what they are doing, and they may step on your feet. Go with the locals, they know what they´re doing so you don´t have to. (Although it helps if you do.)
-Potatoes and soup and potatoes in soup are just a way of life.
-There is only so much spinach soup you can eat before your face starts to turn the same shade of green as the soup.
-There are stray dogs everywhere, so it´s muy importante to be on the lookout for what they´ve left behind.
-All the English speaking people hang out in the Irish pub, and they´re always happy to have an American on their pub quiz team to answer those pesky American sports questions.

Into the Jungle

I think I just had the best weekend ever. Top 3, at least. I left early Saturday morning for the town of Mindo, which is in one of Ecuador's last remaining cloud forests. I went with a group of students from my school, and it was led by Carlos, my teacher. We took a public bus, which did not, by the way, include any chickens. The bus drove out of the mountains, down really winding roads and over the equatorial line. I met my first Americans on the trip. Laura and Ryan, from Minnesota, and Meredith, who is originally from Illinois, so the midwest was definitely represented in Ecuador.

Mindo is your stereotypical South American town. The streets are dry and dusty, and muddy when it rains, and chickens and roosters wander the streets. Our hostel was very rustic, complete with a big porch with hammocks and mosquito nets over the beds. They served us lunch when we got there at a long table, and I felt like I was at camp. All that we needed was to sing grace. I discovered that it helps to have people around when you don't want to eat the food. The first course they served was a veggie soup. I was sitting next to Jacob, another one from England. He polished off his soup in mere seconds, so we switched bowls so he could work on mine. I told him he should come stay with me so he can help me eat all my meals, but I think he's happy where he is.

After lunch we set out for a long, hot hike through the jungle to the waterfalls. When we got closer to the falls, we took a rickety cable car over the jungle floor, then hiked down from there. (We took a break to swing through the trees on a rope. You know, to give it that Tarzan/George of the Jungle vibe.) Once there, we waded across very cold water, to a tall, rather crooked ladder up the cliff, which we had to climb up in order to get to the top of the waterfall. When we got to the top, I decided to do something really crazy. I jumped off the 12m waterfall. Don't ask me why, it just seemed like the thing to do. (Don't worry, there was a jumping point, and a guide to tell you how to jump.) The water was really deep, and it seemed to take me forever to come up. When I did, I had a hard time catching my breath, due in part, I believe, to the water temperature, which was pretty darn cold. But what a rush.

After dinner in the evening, we hung out on the porch, playing the guitar (not me, but others), singing along (again, not really me) and working on those salsa moves (definitely me). The power went out around 10, so we continued in the dark for a little bit before deciding to take our party to the local salsa club. (I think I'm going to be fluent in salsa before Spanish.) When we came home, the power was still out, so Leigh and Bernice and I had a toothbrushing party in the bathroom since we just had Bernice's flashlight.

Sunday morning, we went tubing. Tubing is basically white water rafting, but on several giant inner tubes tied together. It was pretty chilly and still raining, but it didn't really matter since the water was so cold anyway. The first few splashes were a bit of a shock to the system. After that, though, I didn't really notice the cold. I was too busy laughing and shrieking and just having a great time to really notice. We were wearing life jackets and helmets, which was a good thing. There were a few low lying tree branches, Leigh and I knocked heads a few times, and Meredith almost went flying off into the water. The guide grabbed her by her vest to keep her from going overboard. When it was all over, I wanted to go again, even though my hands were white from gripping the ropes so tightly.

Great weekend, and even better company. And the whole thing cost me less than $50. Muy bien.

Food Update!

I´ve been here nearly a week, so here´s a breakdown of what I´ve eaten.

The Good: I love fried bananas and passion fruit juice. It´s delicious. Also, today I got my daily serving of potatoes in french fry form, which I can totally handle with a bit of salt and ketchup. With the french fries I had some sort of cheese-eggy thing. It wasn´t an omelet, but it was edible and I ate the whole thing.

The Bad: Now I understand why more than one guidebook said, If you don´t like potatoes, you probably shouldn´t go to Ecuador. But I´m stubborn and I came anyway. I´ve been served potatoes every day that I´ve been here, mostly in soup. They´re still not growing on me.

The same old: In Ecuador, they eat their big meal for lunch, then soup for dinner. Every day. I don´t like soup. I don´t even eat it when I´m sick, I´d rather eat ice cream, but apparently I´m a soup eater now. I´ve eaten it every night I´ve been here. Not once has the soup not included potatoes. Of course, we all know about the potato vegetable soup disaster. Then on Monday night was pumpkin soup with UFO´s (unidentified food objects). On Tuesday, I had a soup eating crisis. Floating in the soup was bits of corn, still on the cob. Am I supposed to eat the whole cob? Take the cob out and nibble? Cut the corn off the cob with my spoon? I decided to wait and take my lead from Elvia, when she must have seen the confused look on my face and instructed me to pick up the cobs out of the soup, nibble on the corn, then leave the bare cobs on the plate next to my soup bowl. Ah.

Tonight, however, I may actually avoid the soup. This evening´s activity is a cooking lesson, and we´ll be making empanadas.

Quito, Quito, Quito

I haven't had much of a chance to see Quito, besides walking to and from school everyday. And even though my bedroom has possibly the best view in town, I set out yesterday to check out other views by visiting some churches in the Old Town. Among others, I learned two things: Ecuador does not have the same safety regulations we have in the States (I'll explain) nor do they have emissions standards. I'm pretty sure I inhaled a years worth of carcinogens in one day.

It was quite a hike from my house to Old Town. My first stop was the Monastery of San Francisco, the oldest church in South America. The elaborate altar was under construction, so I was a bit underwhelmed, but the floors were some seriously old wooden, very creaky planks, and there was a stray dog wandering around inside. (There are stray dogs everywhere in this city.) Next was the Monastery of Santa Catalina, an actual working monastery. There have been nuns living there for over 400 years, and they have always spent the first 5 years in complete seclusion. It's kind of strange, because you know the nuns are there, but you can't see them. They even sell goods from behind a revolving door so you can't see them. I was given a guide, who was a girl of about 13 years old. At first she didn't do much but turn on lights for me, but then I started asking her questions, and she offered to show me the bell tower. I was so glad she did. We climbed up a scary, winding staircase, and came out in the bell tower, where there was nothing to do but sit on the ledge and hang out over the city streets. Because of the lack of safety standards, it was a completely unique experience. I took the opportunity to practice some of my Spanish on my guide (Como te llama?), her name was Daisy, and I thanked her for bringing me up to the tower. After we climbed back down the scary staircase she offered me a taste of (non-alcoholic) wine made by the nuns. "100% pure blood of Jesus," she told me. I can drink to that. Before I left, I asked Daisy to help me buy some sugary nuts from the nuns. I knew I did not stand a chance of communicating with a Spanish speaking nun behind a revolving door. She did, and I offered her some of my sweets before I thanked her and set off for my third and final church of the morning.

Bacilica de Voco Nacional had, what Lonely Planet claimed to be the "deadliest view." They weren't kidding. In order to get to the basilica, I had to cross a creaky wooden plank, then climb a ladder to get up outside. I thought that was it until I realized the guy in front of me was nowhere to be found. That's when I looked up and realized there were more ladders. I climbed up those, and the view was definitely one of a kind. It was going back down that gave me second thoughts. When I did get back down, I found stairs up to the belfry while looking for el bano. It was kind of cool to be behind the huge clocks that you see from the street. That was good enough for me when I discovered more ladders. They definitely give you your money's worth. Unfortunately, I had to call it a day. I was wheezing a bit (the altitude still gets me when overexerting), my legs felt a bit like jell-o, and I did have to get to class by one o'clock on the other side of town.

While I did discover other views of the city, I still say mind isn't half bad.

Salsa Queen

One of the cool things about the language school I´m attending is all the extra activities it offers. Tuesday and Thursday nights is salsa night. Last night was our first lesson. Harry, the main instructor, instroduced himself as the ¨Professor of Salsa¨. I started off doing pretty well, but then we got partnered up and you´re only as good as your partner. My partner was Josh, who´s from England. He was pretty terrible. However, by the end of the evening, we were having a pretty good time, and had even gotten the spins down. We even got several muy biens from the toughest instructor. I think tonight is cooking class.

Spanish School

I started Spanish School on Monday. Monday through Friday our class meets for 4 hours in the afternoon. The class consists of 3 Germans, 1 Swiss, 1 Englishman, and me. Plus Carlos, our instructor, of course. The school is crawling with Germans, or at least German-speaking people and the British. So far, I have yet to meet an American- not that I´m complaining.

I was worried that even though I was taking a beginner class, I would still be the only clueless one in the class. I was certain that everyone would have taken at least one Spanish class before. Not so. Everyone is just as clueless as I am. I´m actually taking to Spanish pretty quickly. Last night over dinner, I was impressing Elvia with my vocabulary. She even called me muy intelligent. Truth is, compared to German, Spanish is pretty darn easy.

I thought 4 hours sitting in a class would be pretty painful, but it´s actually quite fun. The 4 hours fly by. Carlos is a fun instructor, which helps. Our class is held outside, since the weather is so perfect. It stays right around 70ish, and there´s pretty much always a mountain breeze. The sun can be pretty intense this high up and right on the equator, but class is in the shade, so it´s pretty perfect.

Well that didn´t take long

I was wondering how long it would be before my ¨food issues¨reared their ugly head. Answer: less than 24 hours.

It got off to a really great start. For breakfast on Sunday Elvia served me a nice big chunk of delicious, juicy, fresh out of the earth pineapple, a croissant, and mango juice. Delicious. If I could eat like that everyday I´d be happy. Lunch was also a winner, with chicken and pasta. No problemo. Except that she gave me so much there was no way I could finish it. Then came dinner. As soon as I walked into the dining room, I wished I had stayed upstairs and eaten peanut butter straight out of the jar. Or gnawed my arm off. Sitting at my place on the table was a very, very large bowl of soup. Potato and vegetable soup. Oh CRAP.

Earlier in the day at the SuperMaxi, Eliva asked what I liked and disliked. The conversation went something like this: Fruit=good. Vegetables=bad. Meat=good. Fish=bad. I did not drop the potato bomb on them. I didn´t think they could handle it. My own parents have a hard time handling it. (Our other daughter, they say, is normal, we swear!) Being the trooper that I am, I sat down and dug in. I ate the broth, working my way around any potatoes or vegetables, but getting an occasional carrot or onion or (gag!) mushroom. I was just beginning to wonder when I could keep up the charade when Elvia said, That´s OK, you don´t have to finish. (At least I think that´s what she said. She speaks Spanish, and I speak English, and we use an elaborate display of sign language, and sometimes we kind of understand each other.) I told her I was so full that I just couldn´t finish. Then Jaime (or Rodrigo, I´m still not sure which is which) asked me how I was adjusting to the altitude. Loss of appetite is a symptom, so I was saved by the altitude. Crisis averted.

Until this afternoon, when I came down for lunch. Roast beef and a huge helping of mashed potatoes. (I don´t know why she thinks I´m going to eat so much!) Somehow, I managed to eat half my helping of mashed potatoes by mixing it up with the roast beef. I didn´t enjoy it, but I didn´t die either. So far, I think I´ve been able to convince them that I´m just a very light eater, instead of the food freak that I am.

Listen up kids: Altitude sickness is no joke

As soon as I stepped off the plane, there was a huge sign that read: Altitude 9,124 ft. Walk Slowly. That´s some pretty good advice. Had I been walking at my normal airport pace, I probably would have passed out. Even walking slowly, I felt like I had just run a marathon (not that I would know what that feels like) after only crossing the short distance to the customs line. I was out of breath, and my knees felt like jell-o. When I got to my host family´s home, I climbed the three flights of stairs to my bedroom with my heavy bags and was pretty sure I was about to die. Even today when I climb the three flights of stairs without my heavy bags, I´m out of breath by the time I get to the top. I haven´t experienced the all out altitude sickness, but it´s definitely a factor. That´s why I´m here in this internet café. In order to avoid my third nap of the day (because climbing the stairs is exhausting) I decided I better go for a walk around the neighborhood. I think I´ll just work on my book though for the rest of the day.

Random Airport Observations

I flew out of Newark, and had six hours to kill in Atlanta before flying on to Quito. Here´s a few random observations I made while sitting in the airport and on the plane:

• It was really strange to be in Atlanta and not hop on MARTA and go home.
• I got out my laptop in the aiport, figuring I would have time to work on my fabulous blogosity while sitting there. Turns out, they expect you to pay for wireless at the airport. I found this a bit odd, seeing as people are usually pretty rushed in an airport, so it seems unlikely that they would stop to take the time to figure out how to purchase the wireless connection. Granted, I had nothing better to do with my time than exactly that, but still, it´s the principle of the thing. Internet should be free, especially wireless. I´ve already provided my own computer. I tried playing Soliaire, but that gets a bit old, especially after losing about 8 games in a row. It´s a stupid game anyway.
• There was a man sleeping on the opposite side of the gate area from me, and despite the distance and the dull roar of airport noises, I could still hear him snoring.
• I really need to start flying foreign airlines while travelling abroad. They're so much better in terms of service and comfort. The American airlines just don´t seem to get it. No wonder they´re all going bankrupt. I was forced to try to watch The Jane Austen Book Club through the curtain that separates the First Class from the rabble because the TV screens directly in front of me weren´t working. (I don´t understand the whole Jane Austen craze. I´ve only ever been bored with her books. The movie was similar to an Austen novel, but it did score points for including Feist on the soundtrack.)

Arrival

Here I am, at an internet cafe in Quito! (I just have to point out that Saved By the Bell: The College Years is on the TV in Spanish.) Whew! Saturday morning did not get off to the best start. When I checked in, the ticket agent asked me several times if I had a return ticket. I did not. She said that was going to be a problem when I got into Quito. They´re going to want proof that you´re leaving, she said. She let me panic over this fact for a few minutes before asking someone else what she could do about it. He said just to book me on a flight to Peru. That way if they asked, I´d have an itinerary to show them when I was leaving. She said she didn´t want to lie for me (?!), he told her just to do it. I finally calmed down, but I was still a bit nervous all day that I was going to be apprehended by the Ecuadorian authorities. I wasn´t. They didn´t even ask to see anything of the sort.
Customs was no problem, so all I had to do was find my ride. I didn´t think it would be that difficult to find the sign with my name on it, but I was unprepared for the literally hundreds of people standing shoulder to shoulder, three and four deep, each holding up a sign for a particular individual. I disappointed a few people when I wasn´t Megan or Colleen or Kristen, and was starting to get a bit nervous when I finally saw my name by the exit. After I found my ride, we had to wait awhile longer for another student. Maren and I bonded immediately since she was from Norway and I have, in fact, been to Norway. Sadly, our bond was not meant to last. She's attending language school in another town.

This morning my Elvia, my host mother, walked me to the language school I´ll be attending while I´m here. On the way back we stopped at a grocery store. The grocery store is called SuperMaxi. To me, this does not sound like a grocery store so much as a feminine hygeine product, but whatever. I was just excited to be able to buy copious amounts of water. (My stock cost me less than $2. Awesome.) What was not so awesome, was when I got home and discovered that I had purchased the wrong kind of water, the kind ¨with gas.¨ Argh. It´s better than nothing, but I´m conducting an experiment by leaving them open to see if they´ll get flat. I´ll report my findings later.

The Packing Problem

For months I've been pondering the How on Earth am I going to Pack?! dilemma. I like to travel light. After a few European backpacking adventures, I don't see the need to bring a lot of stuff, and have learned (the hard way) that if you ever want to see it again, don't bring it along. Just a few changes of clothes and some disposable underwear (you know, that underwear you need to throw out anyway to lighten your load as you go) is enough. My mom doesn't like the fact that my sister Holli and I get to smelling like dirty laundry after a bit, but that's part of what makes it fun. Besides, it's more fun to reminisce when you're a "fashion don't."

Back to my packing dilemma...
I surveyed everyone I know who had been in a similar situation and a few of the teachers currently working at the school I'll be teaching. They basically all said I can buy everything I need when I get there, with one exception. Since I'll actually be working in Peru, I'll need to dress like a professional. Buying professional type clothes wouldn't be such a problem if I weren't going to be in an Andean country where the people are a bit shorter than here in the States. At 5'6"(and a half), I may be a borderline giantess. So in my backpack that meets the TSA requirements for carry-on luggage (even though I'll be checking it), I have a pair of slacks, two skirts, and 3 work appropriate tops to mix and match. Sidenote: Vacuum bags are a beautiful invention. Never would have fit everything without them. I'll worry about appropriate footwear when I got there. Unless they don't mind if I teach in hiking boots.

Now for my final dilemma: Can I bring my peanut butter in my carry-on, or will they seize it at security?

A Very Good Place to Start

I've been sitting here trying to figure out what to make my first post all about, and I finally decided it would be a good idea to just start at the very beginning. Last spring, my sister and I spent 3 weeks in Scandinavia. This was not our first trip, but it was definitely the best. The weather was great, the locations were great, we didn't even lose anything. It was wonderful. Then I had to go back to work. I was not happy. I've had the travel bug for as long as I can remember, so I'm not sure why all of a sudden I was completely unsatisfied. I didn't know what to do, I just knew a three week trip every two years wasn't going to cut it.
Then I got this crazy idea that I wanted to teach English. In South America. When I told people this, they said: "Oh. Do you speak Spanish?" The answer: Not a word. My years of German training won't help me on this next Abenteuer. That's why I'm heading to Quito, Ecuador for the next few weeks for language training, before my job starts in February in Cusco, Peru. Why Ecuador? Why Peru? I really have no idea. The opportunities presented themselves, and I'm just letting things happen. C'est la vie! (Wrong language. I'm in trouble, I know.)