I've decided that Chacos are the absolute perfect footwear for South America. I bought them on a whim near the end of the summer, since I had been making money, damn it, and they were just so COOL. Well. Great idea, because these shoes do everything, including come out of a spectacular bike crash unscathed. In Baños I nearly died while biking in a downpour through a tunnel-- didn't know there was a drainage ditch on the edge of the road inside the tunnel, and there were no lights, and we couldn't see anything at all, and I rode my bike into aforementioned drainage ditch and went flying. As I was doing damage assessment, my friend Beth (biking behind me) started yelling at me to get out of the way, because a huge truck had just entered the tunnel, without headlights, and couldn't see me sprawled in the middle of the road. I aborted damage assessment, figuring that I'd find out soon enough whether my extremities were all functional, and hauled my bike and myself off to the side of the road, averting disaster. I was very minimally hurt (scrapes, nothing else), and it's a great story, so I think I won. I guess that the accident doesn't actually have anything to do with my footwear, except that I was shocked that they didn't even get dirty, and it was great that I was wearing sandals due to the abominable weather.
And I've gone on many an impromptu hike over uneven terrain and through waterfalls in these bad girls-- hell, even walking along Quito city streets practically requires hiking footwear, the sidewalks are so unpredictably uneven-- and they've been fab. They also look pretty freaking snazzy when clipped to the daisy chain on my Cotopaxi pack with a carabiner. Heh. Wonderful.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
almost a month, holy shit!
I don't ever regret going out. I think this means I should do it more.
Juan's party last weekend remains the most ridiculous gathering I've been to in a very very long time. There is really nothing more to say, so please investigate the photos on Facebook. Same with the orange-throwing parade in Guápulo. Ludicrous. And I was propositioned by a clown, for the first and probably last time ever.
Last night at dinner at Mango Tree, I was thrilled beyond belief to eat a good salad with real, non-iceberg lettuce, and CUCUMBERS. Cucumbers are by far my favorite salad component, but somehow here they're not considered standard. It's amazing how some lovely green leaf lettuce totally made my night. I don't get nearly enough raw vegetables.
El Bungalow made my night all over again, by playing their usual mix of hilariously bad/amazing pop from the United States with late 80s and early 90s hits (ahem, "Sweet Dreams"). Jodie got us in the door immediately, without cover charge, by appealing to the bouncer: "Pero venimos cada miércoles, y NUNCA tenemos que esperar!". Fantastic. I've studiously developed my ability to give off Very Unapproachable Vibes while dancing alone, because the vast majority of men in clubs are horribly sketchy, and not even interesting, and I definitely don't want to dance with them, but it's usually impossible to decline politely.
Went to the gym at Hotel Quito, the fancy hotel and casino that's closer to my house here than Freeman is to OutHouse. Convenient as it could possibly be, which is a Very Good Thing, because I've resolved to kick my ass this semester and return to the team faster than ever. I guess the gym at the hotel is really more of an excercise room, but it's housed in this funny tropical cabana-type building next to the outdoor pool. There is a very rickety staircase to a tiny loft where the ellipticals and stationary bikes are, and the free weights, treadmills, mats, etc., are all downstairs. E! Entertainment Television is on the TVs, and Latin club mixes are on the radio. There are cubbies. It's sunny. I like it. What I don't like is the dearth of oxygen way up here in the mountains, because I sure as hell should be able to do more than 20 minutes on the elliptical without getting totally winded.
Tonight, at the free jazz concert at Teatro Sucre, Courtney and I befriended a group of mildly drunk guys who nevertheless were incredibly nice and surprisingly non-creepy. They were passing around a fifth of what seemed to be the equivalent of peach schnapps, except they had it wrapped up in a little black plastic bag so that the label couldn't be seen. I asked them about this, and they said it was so that people would maybe think they were drinking whiskey or something more manly than peach schnapps. Heh. The music itself was hilarious, both because Quito's symphonic band just can't swing (I was really quite disappointed, I was hoping that the legendary ritmo latino would translate into jazz, but apparently not), and because they played everything from "Spain" (Chick Corea) to "Sing Sing Sing" (Benny Goodman) to "Zoot Suit Riot" (Cherry Poppin' Daddies) to "My Way" (Frank Sinatra) to that country song where the guy has a fiddle duel with the devil. It was such a bizarre confluence of styles, but the Ecuadorians didn't bat an eye, just like they think queso fresco is actually good.
Seriously, that cheese. As we like to say, it tastes like goats smell. And that's just no good.
Heading to Baños tomorrow-- I'm psyched to have planned this trip mostly myself, but we shall see how it goes. Doubly psyched about using my new 40L Cotopaxi pack, which cost all of $30. Yes.
Juan's party last weekend remains the most ridiculous gathering I've been to in a very very long time. There is really nothing more to say, so please investigate the photos on Facebook. Same with the orange-throwing parade in Guápulo. Ludicrous. And I was propositioned by a clown, for the first and probably last time ever.
Last night at dinner at Mango Tree, I was thrilled beyond belief to eat a good salad with real, non-iceberg lettuce, and CUCUMBERS. Cucumbers are by far my favorite salad component, but somehow here they're not considered standard. It's amazing how some lovely green leaf lettuce totally made my night. I don't get nearly enough raw vegetables.
El Bungalow made my night all over again, by playing their usual mix of hilariously bad/amazing pop from the United States with late 80s and early 90s hits (ahem, "Sweet Dreams"). Jodie got us in the door immediately, without cover charge, by appealing to the bouncer: "Pero venimos cada miércoles, y NUNCA tenemos que esperar!". Fantastic. I've studiously developed my ability to give off Very Unapproachable Vibes while dancing alone, because the vast majority of men in clubs are horribly sketchy, and not even interesting, and I definitely don't want to dance with them, but it's usually impossible to decline politely.
Went to the gym at Hotel Quito, the fancy hotel and casino that's closer to my house here than Freeman is to OutHouse. Convenient as it could possibly be, which is a Very Good Thing, because I've resolved to kick my ass this semester and return to the team faster than ever. I guess the gym at the hotel is really more of an excercise room, but it's housed in this funny tropical cabana-type building next to the outdoor pool. There is a very rickety staircase to a tiny loft where the ellipticals and stationary bikes are, and the free weights, treadmills, mats, etc., are all downstairs. E! Entertainment Television is on the TVs, and Latin club mixes are on the radio. There are cubbies. It's sunny. I like it. What I don't like is the dearth of oxygen way up here in the mountains, because I sure as hell should be able to do more than 20 minutes on the elliptical without getting totally winded.
Tonight, at the free jazz concert at Teatro Sucre, Courtney and I befriended a group of mildly drunk guys who nevertheless were incredibly nice and surprisingly non-creepy. They were passing around a fifth of what seemed to be the equivalent of peach schnapps, except they had it wrapped up in a little black plastic bag so that the label couldn't be seen. I asked them about this, and they said it was so that people would maybe think they were drinking whiskey or something more manly than peach schnapps. Heh. The music itself was hilarious, both because Quito's symphonic band just can't swing (I was really quite disappointed, I was hoping that the legendary ritmo latino would translate into jazz, but apparently not), and because they played everything from "Spain" (Chick Corea) to "Sing Sing Sing" (Benny Goodman) to "Zoot Suit Riot" (Cherry Poppin' Daddies) to "My Way" (Frank Sinatra) to that country song where the guy has a fiddle duel with the devil. It was such a bizarre confluence of styles, but the Ecuadorians didn't bat an eye, just like they think queso fresco is actually good.
Seriously, that cheese. As we like to say, it tastes like goats smell. And that's just no good.
Heading to Baños tomorrow-- I'm psyched to have planned this trip mostly myself, but we shall see how it goes. Doubly psyched about using my new 40L Cotopaxi pack, which cost all of $30. Yes.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
sometimes i can't catch my breath, and it's not just the altitude
Wooo, time flies.
Going to the beach (Same, in Esmeraldas province, on the Northern coast) was by far the most relaxing thing I've done in years. I had literally nothing to do for two and a half days, and that itself was beautiful. And the Pacific Ocean! My first time ever in that particular body of water, and I think I'm a fan for life. Unlike the horribly cold, violent Northern Atlantic, the Pacific at that particular part of the Ecuadorian coast is wonderfully warm and gentle, with absolutely ideal waves for body surfing. I let the salt and sand accumulate in my hair all weekend, wanting somehow to take the ocean with me back to the dry Andes.
The place we stayed was a hilarious mix of impossibly gorgeous and run-down. Non-functional lights in our room, a pool without water, mosquito nets with gaping holes, but-- thatched roofs. Coconut trees. Sand. HAMMOCKS. Oh, the hammocks. I spent hours in a hammock by the ocean, reading, writing, and dreaming the day away. Glorious.
Also, classes at PUCE started Monday-- so far, so good. I'm particularly thrilled about Socioetnolingüística, which is every bit as esoteric as it sounds, as well as being fantastically namby-pamby in that an objective of the class is to seek the development of true interculturality, where various cultures are valued as integral and necessary parts of a collective national consciousness. Yes.
Tonight was the first meeting of the year of el club de andinísmo at PUCE. It's an outing club, but hardcore as all hell. I'm psyched. They have a super cool meeting room decorated with worn-out gear, Tibetan prayer flags, maps, and posters of mountains signed by famous mountaineers. And at the end of the meeting the leaders asked if anyone had any unrelated announcements, and one woman stood up to tell everyone about what sounded like a composting workshop next weekend. Clearly I have found my group of people.
Going to the beach (Same, in Esmeraldas province, on the Northern coast) was by far the most relaxing thing I've done in years. I had literally nothing to do for two and a half days, and that itself was beautiful. And the Pacific Ocean! My first time ever in that particular body of water, and I think I'm a fan for life. Unlike the horribly cold, violent Northern Atlantic, the Pacific at that particular part of the Ecuadorian coast is wonderfully warm and gentle, with absolutely ideal waves for body surfing. I let the salt and sand accumulate in my hair all weekend, wanting somehow to take the ocean with me back to the dry Andes.
The place we stayed was a hilarious mix of impossibly gorgeous and run-down. Non-functional lights in our room, a pool without water, mosquito nets with gaping holes, but-- thatched roofs. Coconut trees. Sand. HAMMOCKS. Oh, the hammocks. I spent hours in a hammock by the ocean, reading, writing, and dreaming the day away. Glorious.
Also, classes at PUCE started Monday-- so far, so good. I'm particularly thrilled about Socioetnolingüística, which is every bit as esoteric as it sounds, as well as being fantastically namby-pamby in that an objective of the class is to seek the development of true interculturality, where various cultures are valued as integral and necessary parts of a collective national consciousness. Yes.
Tonight was the first meeting of the year of el club de andinísmo at PUCE. It's an outing club, but hardcore as all hell. I'm psyched. They have a super cool meeting room decorated with worn-out gear, Tibetan prayer flags, maps, and posters of mountains signed by famous mountaineers. And at the end of the meeting the leaders asked if anyone had any unrelated announcements, and one woman stood up to tell everyone about what sounded like a composting workshop next weekend. Clearly I have found my group of people.
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