The terrifically traveled duo are now back in Boston. The long day of travel was successful. I am thrilled to have regained my literacy as well as my bank account. I am, however, still adjusting to throwing my toilet paper directly in the toilet, toting a cell phone, and having unlimited email access. It's also odd to hear so much English spoken all around me and to be able to express myself to sales people and cashiers with such ease.
In the next couple days I hope to begin my Ecuadorian Odyssey scrapbook, and, of course, start planning my next expedition!
Monday, September 1, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
The Pockets have been Otavalo-ed Out
Old McDonald had a farm...and so does Otavalo. The alarm clock blared out Merengue at 7 am this morning at which point Rachel and I hit the streets for the reknowned Otavalo animal market. Here, traditionally clad women dangle fluffy white and khaki colored guinea pigs by the neck, shouting out bargain prices. A few feet over other women clutch clucking chickens by the feet and still others parade lambs and sheep around the open air market. Nearby pigs and cows for sale sit tied to pittiful little wooden yardsticks. Much to the relief of the US customs officers, neither Rachel nor I made a purchase. We did, however, capture some priceless photos.
The animal market wrapped up around 10 at which point our massive souvenir shopping began. Rachel and I flashed through rows and rows of brightly colored embroidered goods, clay pottery, and artwork in search of the perfect gifts. Being as indecisive as I am, the market began to close down before I had a single thing in my knapsack! Out of sheer panic, I grabbed a couple things and called it done. I hope no one wanted a personal guinea pig roaster or shrunken head after all.
Wiped and shopped-out, Rachel and I boarded a bus back to Quito. The bus ride was one in true Ecuadorian style--meaning the maximum capacity of the bus was well exceeded and the aisle in between the seats was packed with passengers. The highlight of the ride back was thus when we passed through a police check point and the driver instructed all the standing passengers to duck. We skirted through the checkpoint unscathed. Oh, the power of ducking.
My time in Ecuador is now limited. Rachel and I head to the Quito International Airport at 4:30 am tomorrow, returning to Boston via Panama City, Panama, and Newark, New Jersey. The trip has been phenomenal. The terrifically traveled duo shall now return to the real world.
I will post one final time, adding the promised photos, when I am back in Boston.
The animal market wrapped up around 10 at which point our massive souvenir shopping began. Rachel and I flashed through rows and rows of brightly colored embroidered goods, clay pottery, and artwork in search of the perfect gifts. Being as indecisive as I am, the market began to close down before I had a single thing in my knapsack! Out of sheer panic, I grabbed a couple things and called it done. I hope no one wanted a personal guinea pig roaster or shrunken head after all.
Wiped and shopped-out, Rachel and I boarded a bus back to Quito. The bus ride was one in true Ecuadorian style--meaning the maximum capacity of the bus was well exceeded and the aisle in between the seats was packed with passengers. The highlight of the ride back was thus when we passed through a police check point and the driver instructed all the standing passengers to duck. We skirted through the checkpoint unscathed. Oh, the power of ducking.
My time in Ecuador is now limited. Rachel and I head to the Quito International Airport at 4:30 am tomorrow, returning to Boston via Panama City, Panama, and Newark, New Jersey. The trip has been phenomenal. The terrifically traveled duo shall now return to the real world.
I will post one final time, adding the promised photos, when I am back in Boston.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Preparing to Shop Untill I Drop
The trek down was not nearly as bad as the trek up. Then again, how could it have possibly been any worse? I am safely back on solid ground and can officially say that I shall never hike again. No, I hereby declare that I SHALL NEVER, EVER, EVER HIKE AGAIN. My experience in Timbuktoo i.e. the cloud forest has also led me to declare myself an official urban/suburbanite. Life with no hot water, no electricity, no sanitation, and no human interaction is just not for me.
Rachel and I boarded a bus back to Quito at noon today. Once in Quito we transfered to a bus bound for Otavalo. Otavalo hosts one of South America´s most impressive markets. Every Saturday villagers travel from all over the region to partake in this event. Vendors cram the narrow streets selling ducks, chickens, cows, ponchos, tapestries, hammocks, carvings, jewelry, fake shrunken heads, embroidered goods and woven mats.
Rachel and I have contrived a specific plan of attack. We will hit the livestock section in the wee morning hours then meanander our way down to the produce, embroidered goods, pottery, and craft sections by midday. Both Rachel and I have saved our entire shopping list for tomorrow so it´s going to be one massive shopping spree of a day. I am currently taking orders for shrunken heads and roasted guinea pig roasters. Any takers?
Rachel and I boarded a bus back to Quito at noon today. Once in Quito we transfered to a bus bound for Otavalo. Otavalo hosts one of South America´s most impressive markets. Every Saturday villagers travel from all over the region to partake in this event. Vendors cram the narrow streets selling ducks, chickens, cows, ponchos, tapestries, hammocks, carvings, jewelry, fake shrunken heads, embroidered goods and woven mats.
Rachel and I have contrived a specific plan of attack. We will hit the livestock section in the wee morning hours then meanander our way down to the produce, embroidered goods, pottery, and craft sections by midday. Both Rachel and I have saved our entire shopping list for tomorrow so it´s going to be one massive shopping spree of a day. I am currently taking orders for shrunken heads and roasted guinea pig roasters. Any takers?
Post Traumatic Hike Disorder
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Santa lucia…quite possible the worst $45 a night I´ve ever spent. The trek up the mountain yesterday was trecherous. The trail consisted of an endless, vertical, poorly miantained slough of mud with the consistency of feces. Palms, vines, and pines jutted out and water trickled down the branches splashing my nose, and stinging my eyes. Bugs hoovered all around. I had hoped the hike wouldn´t be as bad as the Quilotoa Loop, but oh, was it ever. Luckily the torture only lasted an hour rather than last weeks 6. Sporting ill-fitting rubber boots that nipped at my heels I panted, snarled, griped and groaned the entire way up to the top. Rachel was extremely supportive and offered a hand whenéver the trail became exceedingly slick. Rachel has been amazingly patient with me throughout my development and chronic Post Traumatic Hike Disorder. It takes a truly special person to put up with all my whining and complaining. For that, I am truly grateful for Rachel and her tremendous spirit.
The lodge itself is very primative. There is running water, but that´s about it. There is no electricity and the showers and toilets…err…holes covered with modern plastic toilet seats are outside. Rachel and I are the only guests. We have a private non-English speaking ¨English-speaking¨ guide. I am not terribly disappointed, however, because after last nights trek up and this morning´s disasterous hike to the sugar cane plantation, I won´t be hiking any more.
I originally had intentions of embarking on an afternoon toucan watching walk but my post traumatic hike disorder has enabled me to fully appreciate the beauty of Toucan Sam on the Fruit Loops cereal box. Toucan Sam will suffice and there is therefore no need to torture myself with any further hiking. I can push my grocery cart with ease, straight through the heart of the cereal aisle in the supermarket and see a toucan each and everyday when I return to the States. I can even run to CVS and catch a glimpse of Sam on my lunch break, or pull up his website on my computer and save his colorful, smiling face to my desktop. There will clearly be no bird walks in my future.
Instead, I will be lounging in a hammock outside the rustic, wooden lodge with a good book and a hot cup of tea for the remainder of the day. Thankfully we depart tomorrow morning. (Make that THANKFULLY in all capitals). I think I will be utilizing the services of Manuel Mule to manuever my way down to civiliazion... regardless of the price.
Santa lucia…quite possible the worst $45 a night I´ve ever spent. The trek up the mountain yesterday was trecherous. The trail consisted of an endless, vertical, poorly miantained slough of mud with the consistency of feces. Palms, vines, and pines jutted out and water trickled down the branches splashing my nose, and stinging my eyes. Bugs hoovered all around. I had hoped the hike wouldn´t be as bad as the Quilotoa Loop, but oh, was it ever. Luckily the torture only lasted an hour rather than last weeks 6. Sporting ill-fitting rubber boots that nipped at my heels I panted, snarled, griped and groaned the entire way up to the top. Rachel was extremely supportive and offered a hand whenéver the trail became exceedingly slick. Rachel has been amazingly patient with me throughout my development and chronic Post Traumatic Hike Disorder. It takes a truly special person to put up with all my whining and complaining. For that, I am truly grateful for Rachel and her tremendous spirit.
The lodge itself is very primative. There is running water, but that´s about it. There is no electricity and the showers and toilets…err…holes covered with modern plastic toilet seats are outside. Rachel and I are the only guests. We have a private non-English speaking ¨English-speaking¨ guide. I am not terribly disappointed, however, because after last nights trek up and this morning´s disasterous hike to the sugar cane plantation, I won´t be hiking any more.
I originally had intentions of embarking on an afternoon toucan watching walk but my post traumatic hike disorder has enabled me to fully appreciate the beauty of Toucan Sam on the Fruit Loops cereal box. Toucan Sam will suffice and there is therefore no need to torture myself with any further hiking. I can push my grocery cart with ease, straight through the heart of the cereal aisle in the supermarket and see a toucan each and everyday when I return to the States. I can even run to CVS and catch a glimpse of Sam on my lunch break, or pull up his website on my computer and save his colorful, smiling face to my desktop. There will clearly be no bird walks in my future.
Instead, I will be lounging in a hammock outside the rustic, wooden lodge with a good book and a hot cup of tea for the remainder of the day. Thankfully we depart tomorrow morning. (Make that THANKFULLY in all capitals). I think I will be utilizing the services of Manuel Mule to manuever my way down to civiliazion... regardless of the price.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Up in a Cloud...Hopefully.
I am preparing myself mentally and physically for the trek up to the cloud forest. Mules are my friends...
I just checked the cloud forest´s website and they note the absence of electricity. Thus, for more information on where Rachel and I will be for the next 2 nights, please visit the lodge´s website at http://www.santaluciaecuador.com/Ingles/aboutus.htm
If I never post again, I died enroute.
I just checked the cloud forest´s website and they note the absence of electricity. Thus, for more information on where Rachel and I will be for the next 2 nights, please visit the lodge´s website at http://www.santaluciaecuador.com/Ingles/aboutus.htm
If I never post again, I died enroute.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Greetings from the Center of the World
I have just ventured into the northern hemisphere for the first time in nearly 2 weeks. Rachel and I set out for the center of the world i.e. the equator early this morning. Last night the two of us had trouble falling asleep because we were busy concocting ideas as to what the best possible way to photograph what may be our once in a lifetime opportunity to straddle the equator. I will post the results as soon as I am back in the states! There´s nothing like a little suspense once in awhile.
After visiting the equator monument, we went to a little museum funded by an organization dedicated to shifting the common astrological position on the earth´s center of rotation. The researcher gave a very compelling speech and spoke English phenomenally well, but I maintain some reservations as to his theory that the earth does not rotate at 23 degrees from the sun. I was, however, fascinated by the Incan and Saquichua...pardon the spelling...history and ties to the original discovery of the equator. The guy also explained the origins of the star-like symbol popular on 18th and 19th century American quilts and throughout South American art. Little did I know..I mean, I thought the symbol was just a pretty clump of triangles that loosely resembled a star.
Tomorrow Rachel and I depart the capital city and head north to the cloud forest of Santa Lucia. I regret to say this, but this cloud forest is only accessible by foot. I know, I know, I said I would never hike again and here I go setting out on a 2 hour hike to a rural ecolodge nestled deep in the mountains. The owners of the ecolodge are prepared to meet me and Rachel and a bus stop in the town of Nanengal with a 4wd vehicle. They will drive us to start of the foot trail where mules will transport our belongings and we will trek 1.5 to 2 hours up a steep, damp, trail. My legs have hardly recovered from last week´s monstrosity. I sure hope they hold up. If not, I´m hiring myself a mule...no, seriously.
After visiting the equator monument, we went to a little museum funded by an organization dedicated to shifting the common astrological position on the earth´s center of rotation. The researcher gave a very compelling speech and spoke English phenomenally well, but I maintain some reservations as to his theory that the earth does not rotate at 23 degrees from the sun. I was, however, fascinated by the Incan and Saquichua...pardon the spelling...history and ties to the original discovery of the equator. The guy also explained the origins of the star-like symbol popular on 18th and 19th century American quilts and throughout South American art. Little did I know..I mean, I thought the symbol was just a pretty clump of triangles that loosely resembled a star.
Tomorrow Rachel and I depart the capital city and head north to the cloud forest of Santa Lucia. I regret to say this, but this cloud forest is only accessible by foot. I know, I know, I said I would never hike again and here I go setting out on a 2 hour hike to a rural ecolodge nestled deep in the mountains. The owners of the ecolodge are prepared to meet me and Rachel and a bus stop in the town of Nanengal with a 4wd vehicle. They will drive us to start of the foot trail where mules will transport our belongings and we will trek 1.5 to 2 hours up a steep, damp, trail. My legs have hardly recovered from last week´s monstrosity. I sure hope they hold up. If not, I´m hiring myself a mule...no, seriously.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Back on Track
The dynamic traveling duo are back on track. After a naseating night that cost me my favorite pair of pajama pants and my only pair of thermal bottoms, I woke up feeling much better. Thank goodness.
Today Rachel and I explored the city of Cuenca. This city is a real treat with its cobblestone roads, old fashioned churches, and bustling marketplaces. We began the day at the shop of the famous 80 something year old Panama hat maker, Alberto Pulla. I say he´s famous because Rachel assures me he is, but I have to admit, I had actually never heard of the guy or even a ¨Panama hat¨ until I dove into the Ecuador guidebook a couple months ago. Anyhow, I tried on a hat and posed next to this famous dude for a photo but did not buy a hat. Sorry, sir.
After a quick stop at the hat shop, Rachel and I meandered through town to the market. On market days, the roads are blocked and rows and rows of street vendors line the streets. Women stand nose-deep in mounds of bananas, peaches, mangos, radishes, cabbages, and carrots. In other sections women cook up and serve boiling soups and stews. In yet other sections, vendors sell exotic animals, embroidered goods, and junk, for a lack of a better term. Shoppers cram into the narrow alleyways creating extreme chaos and excitement. I love it.
In the afternoon we visited a museum dedicated to the various ethnic groups of Ecuador. It was informative...the handful of English descriptions that existed that is. I must say, though, Rachel and I are doing a stellar job of assimilating to the culture. We have started interchanging English and Spanish, and we have completely trained ourselves to throw our toiletpaper in the trash can next to the toilet and not in the toilet. Fortunately for our other 2 roommates, and the Somerville recycling department, we don´t intend on continuing the tradition when back in the states.
After fully experiencing the joy of Ecuadorian bus travel, Rachel and I decided to fly back to Quito from Cuenca and boared a flight at 6:40 pm tonight. Americans have a lot to learn from Ecuadorian aviation standards. First off, you are always served food, regardless of flying time. Second of all, airline personnel open both the back and front doors when boarding and deplaning the aircraft. Thirdly, you are able to take anything and everything on the plane with you...how scandalous to carry a weapon as deadly as a water bottle on a plane! The only thing I don´t like about Ecuadorian aviation standards is the fact that the pilots don´t seem to brake at all before landing so when you hit the ground you feel as though you are going to jet straight out of the airport and into town. After zoooming at 500 mph on the ground for 5 minutes they eventually come to a halt. I´m glad they have long runways to accomodate this.
Our latest flight back to Quito from Cuenca makes flight number 11 for this trip alone. The best flight was the one from the mainland to the Galapagos last week. As we soared over the water and began our hasty, abrupt descent onto the island, the non-english speaking flight attendant muttered something in Spanish and then said ¨...please use the lifevest under your seat for flotation.¨ I glanced around me in a panic as did all of the gringos. Many started to fidget and reach under their seats. I wasn´t sure if I should wake Rachel to have her adorn a lifevest, but I couldn´t help but notice that the spanish speakers didn´t seem at all alarmed. I quickly put two and two together and realized that the flight attendant had simply read the wrong line of her flight attendant instruction card. What a mean and traumatizing Ingles error for us Gringos.
Tomorrow Rachel and I are headed to the center of the world, or the ecuator. There´s a neat little museum there. Now that we´re in the capital for a day, I´m hoping to grab a good bite to eat--deep fried guinea pig just didn´t cut it tonight.
Today Rachel and I explored the city of Cuenca. This city is a real treat with its cobblestone roads, old fashioned churches, and bustling marketplaces. We began the day at the shop of the famous 80 something year old Panama hat maker, Alberto Pulla. I say he´s famous because Rachel assures me he is, but I have to admit, I had actually never heard of the guy or even a ¨Panama hat¨ until I dove into the Ecuador guidebook a couple months ago. Anyhow, I tried on a hat and posed next to this famous dude for a photo but did not buy a hat. Sorry, sir.
After a quick stop at the hat shop, Rachel and I meandered through town to the market. On market days, the roads are blocked and rows and rows of street vendors line the streets. Women stand nose-deep in mounds of bananas, peaches, mangos, radishes, cabbages, and carrots. In other sections women cook up and serve boiling soups and stews. In yet other sections, vendors sell exotic animals, embroidered goods, and junk, for a lack of a better term. Shoppers cram into the narrow alleyways creating extreme chaos and excitement. I love it.
In the afternoon we visited a museum dedicated to the various ethnic groups of Ecuador. It was informative...the handful of English descriptions that existed that is. I must say, though, Rachel and I are doing a stellar job of assimilating to the culture. We have started interchanging English and Spanish, and we have completely trained ourselves to throw our toiletpaper in the trash can next to the toilet and not in the toilet. Fortunately for our other 2 roommates, and the Somerville recycling department, we don´t intend on continuing the tradition when back in the states.
After fully experiencing the joy of Ecuadorian bus travel, Rachel and I decided to fly back to Quito from Cuenca and boared a flight at 6:40 pm tonight. Americans have a lot to learn from Ecuadorian aviation standards. First off, you are always served food, regardless of flying time. Second of all, airline personnel open both the back and front doors when boarding and deplaning the aircraft. Thirdly, you are able to take anything and everything on the plane with you...how scandalous to carry a weapon as deadly as a water bottle on a plane! The only thing I don´t like about Ecuadorian aviation standards is the fact that the pilots don´t seem to brake at all before landing so when you hit the ground you feel as though you are going to jet straight out of the airport and into town. After zoooming at 500 mph on the ground for 5 minutes they eventually come to a halt. I´m glad they have long runways to accomodate this.
Our latest flight back to Quito from Cuenca makes flight number 11 for this trip alone. The best flight was the one from the mainland to the Galapagos last week. As we soared over the water and began our hasty, abrupt descent onto the island, the non-english speaking flight attendant muttered something in Spanish and then said ¨...please use the lifevest under your seat for flotation.¨ I glanced around me in a panic as did all of the gringos. Many started to fidget and reach under their seats. I wasn´t sure if I should wake Rachel to have her adorn a lifevest, but I couldn´t help but notice that the spanish speakers didn´t seem at all alarmed. I quickly put two and two together and realized that the flight attendant had simply read the wrong line of her flight attendant instruction card. What a mean and traumatizing Ingles error for us Gringos.
Tomorrow Rachel and I are headed to the center of the world, or the ecuator. There´s a neat little museum there. Now that we´re in the capital for a day, I´m hoping to grab a good bite to eat--deep fried guinea pig just didn´t cut it tonight.
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