Esta entrada de blog le dedico a Maura, la doña responsable por mi falta de acento gringo, que me dijo que escribiera algo en español para subir aquí.

Hoy subimos en el teleférico, después de un incidente con un taxista pendejo que nos dejó media milla debajo de nuestra destinación (en una montaña, a 10,000 pies de altura) cuando demandamos que usara el taxímetro. Espero que sus próximos pasajeros sean tan malcriados como él, y que nieguen de pagarle. Respirando como caballos agotados, alcanzamos la caseta de venta de boletos y subimos en una góndola.

La vista (un poquito borrosa) de la gondola hacia Quito

Desde la cumbre de la montaña/el volcán Pichincha se ve la ciudad entera de Quito, tendida entre la cordillera oriental y la cordillera occidental de los Andes. Es una vista impresionante que me dejó sin aliento. Igual de increíble es la vista en la otra dirección, hacia el acantilado rocoso que sobresale de la cima de Pichincha. Éste es lo que veo cada día en el camino de la escuela al bus. Decidí durante me primera semana en Quito que amo la Pichincha, y por eso mis obras favoritas de Guayasamín son sus retratos de ella.

Encima de Pichincha, mirando hacia el sur

Tomo esta oportunidad para hacer una reflexioncita en mi vida ecuatoriana. Me encuentro ahora en un estado de pre-transición; en una semana, me voy a una destinación deconocida (tal vez Cuenca) para estudiar un tema no decidido. No es una etapa fácil del semestre, y por lo tanto gasto más y más tiempo mirando videos en el internet. También, la semana que viene será nuestra última en Quito, y quiero pasarla visitando todos mis lugares favoritos: Cafelibro, la Liebre, Cine Ocho y Medio, la Carolina y tal vez La Ronda.

El páramo me captó el corazon!

Es interesante llegar a este punto en el semestre y darse cuenta de que amo a Quito más que nunca, y que verdaderamente estoy en el proceso de hacerse un “ser intercultural,” como dice nuestro director de programa. Tal vez esta consciencia de que verdaderamente he cambiado es un efecto no-entendido de irse en el Teleférico y ver tantos gringos en el cumbre de Pichincha, e imaginar cómo debe ser su experiencia del país. Yo también soy gringa, pero gracias a varios factores he tenido la oportunidad de sumergirme intensamente en la vida ecuatoriana; tengo una premonición de que no reconoceré cuánto he internalizado costumbres ecuatorianas hasta que vuelvo a los EE.UU. y me encuentro extranjera.

La cumbre sublime de Pichincha, al oeste

Cacao tree, with red unripe pods. Can be split open to nibble the fruit around the beans, which has a zesty flavor.

“It’s the second day in the Amazon and I’m using bug spray as deodorant.” -Anonymous

As usual with excursions, there’s too much to cover in one post. It was a gastronomic adventure, very different from anything I’ve experienced thus far: I ate the fruit of cacao, chirimoya, guava and guavilla, crunched on baked ants the size of bumblebees, and ingested rice beyond belief. It was on this trip that I finally understood – rice is a way of life. It has become part of my spirit, my essence. At breakfast, lunch and dinner, an unvarying mountain of it would appear on my plate. I became an expert at ratios: how much rice I should eat for every one bean, every bite of plantain, every sliver of egg, so no food would outlast any other. The more I ate, the more my powers of eating grew, until I could plow through everything with no problem. It helped that our host mother was a very good cook.

Plantain grove

I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel misplaced. The life and the people were quite different from anything I’ve ever experienced, and we stayed around the house all day (since there were no classes). It’s not a place where tall white girls show up as a matter of course, so we were something of an oddity. Things could be stilted at times, and I also felt a little guilty that we were sleeping in two of the house’s three rooms.

This tree has such charisma. Think Avatar, but full of tiny monkeys.

That said, experience was utterly unique, and undoubtedly good practice for the final project. A little context: this trip is essentially a practice run for the final month of the program, in which everyone conducts independent research all over Ecuador. For now, students were paired off to stay with Amazonian families and learn about the host culture, documenting everything in a work journal. Fantastic experiences included using a machete to clear brush on the family’s plantain farm, seeing a group of squirrel-sized monkeys darting around in a tree, and sitting in a hammock with three giggling children piled on top of me. My rain boots also earned their credentials during a long, squelchy hike along an Amazonian mountainside. The mud was so deep, I almost lost my left boot. It took two of us to heave it out.

After a week, we regrouped in a hostel, where I made the acquaintances of several sassy macaws, planted a mahogany tree and swam in the rainwater pool. In the daytime, we visited a nearby cooperative that makes The Best Chocolate In The World, and got instantly intoxicated by the smell of roasting cacao beans. The cooperative uses only non-GMO chocolate; the modified version, “CCN-51,” is bigger and more disease resistant, but tastes like hooey. Most chocolate companies mix the two, or add flavoring to disguise the rankness of the GMO flavor. There are no words for corruption like that.

I bought several bricks of the raw ground-up nibs, possibly even more than I can give away – it’s completely unsweetened, but still ambrosia. With luck, it will last me until my senior exams, when I predict I will be eating it by the pound. Stronger than coffee and better for the soul.

View of Baños from the rooftop of our hostel

On Saturday we went to the Quitumbe bus station, bought a bundle of rock-solid rainbow taffy from one of the many food stands, and headed to Baños.

The town is located about two hours from Quito, named for the natural hot springs that bubble up around the periphery. As towns go, it’s tiny. The buildings are hemmed in by gorgeous, towering green mountains and the streets are full of bicycles, backpackers and busking musicians; it felt like a hippie/bohemian paradise, with murals to match.

We dropped our bags at a ridiculously cheap hostel and headed to the hot springs, which were packed. The highlight: a nearby torrent of water pouring out of the mountainside, funneled from the waterfall. I dunked under the icy torrent a few times, and we went to pay homage to the actual waterfall (and eat espumilla, which is like whipped cream piled onto a cone).

Evening got interesting. We booked a ride on a tour bus that we thought was going to visit the dozen waterfalls around the town. We were mistaken; when we showed up at the tour service at dusk, the man behind the desk led us to a line of fluorescent buses with no windows and piled us in. The driver blasted dance music and started driving up the mountain in the dark, until we reached an overlook where (on a clear day) you can see the volcano Tungurahua. Since it was misty and nighttime, all I saw were the lights of Baños below us. The guides served canelazo and it started to rain. Eventually we went back to the buses, huddling together under a roof dripped – only onto our row. I still have a grudge against that bus.

When we got back, the roads were working on becoming rivers. We hurried to a café, where a slice of tiramisu and dark Amazonian hot chocolate worked wonders on my sniffles and sour mood.

As a rule, the food on that trip was fantastic. There was the café-bookstore where we almost collectively fainted over the milkshakes and ginger tea, to say nothing of the entrees. And the many coffee shops serving thick, organic hot chocolate. And the Ecuadorian-Danish owned place where they make veggie sandwiches with a toasty, crunchy-yet-tender baguette. Usually international travelers have to be constantly vigilant about vegetables, but this restaurant washes them all thoroughly, so we had no fear. I  scarfed everything.

One place I did not visit in Baños: the spa. I’m not usually a spa-going kind of gal, but that weekend I was; unfortunately I was also broke. I made a solemn vow to go back one day and get a chocolate massage with aromatherapy. Thirty dollars for an hour and a half. Relaxation will be mine.