¨Ecuador: We´re nice people¨

Sitting on our bus to the coast, Selena music blaring from the speakers, I am again staring out my window taking in the beautiful countryside. The rolling green hills, chicken wire fences, rusted tin roof farms, and of course the steep imposing Andes half hidden by cottony veils of clouds, all pass me by. At one point we are driving through one such veil of clouds, landscape obscurred by white, that the child in me sticks my hand out the window, longing to know what it´s like to touch a cloud. My heart sinks a little as I realize that this is the last time I will see the Andes on this trip. There is something truly humbling and majestic in these blue-green giants that wield such silent yet omnipotent power; it´s no wonder why they´re so revered. Never have I seen such awe-inspiring and striking beauty in my life. There is something so wonderfully humbling and peaceful in being dwarfed by these majestic peaks; in realizing your presence is one less on the earth than of it, less a dominant role than a equal cooperative one. You turn a corner, your breath catches in your chest and you´re hooked.

One thing that Ecuador has made me think a lot about (and appreciate) is the role of family, friends, and community. I know we joked about the ¨Ecuador: We´re nice people¨ sign we came across after just getting my backpack stolen, however in my short time here, I´ve come to realize that this seemingly bold statement is more true than I ever knew.

We were blessed with two wonderful home stays while in Ecuador. Two families opened their homes and hearts to four complete strangers, each demonstrating that the old adage of giving the shirt off your back is not merely present in Ecuador, it is the rule. Never in my life have I been shown such unabounding kindness and love by complete strangers. Such is Latin America. Such is Ecuador.

When we arrived in Cuenca, we were invited to stay with Santi and Ryan´s family for the week. They housed us, feed us ungodly ammounts of amazing food, showed us their city, and nursed us back to health when each of us got mystery 24 hour illnesses. I got to spend time with my sister Bridget and finally share an international experience with her, however breif. Between being with her, and feeling like literally part of the family at Santi´s house, it was a strong reminder of ´home is where your heart is,´ and it was so wonderful to feel so at home, laughing uncontrollaby, singing while Santi´s mom played guitar, watching movies with the siblings, and sharing memories that will stay with me the rest of my life. Even after only 6 days, it was so difficult to say goodbye, which is a true testament to how much we were let into their lives (and they ours).

I just cannot convey the kindness that I have been shown in this country. From our two ¨families¨, to all the random people that helped me get a passport, Ecuador having nice people is quite the understatement. I am so sad to say goodbye to Bridget today (we fly to Guatemala early tomorrow morning). We had a great weekend at a funky (and quirky) surfer town on the coast with some of her friends. Though I´m sad to say goodbye, I´m so excited to see where her adventures take her, and how her study abroad experience shapes her.

Well, thats all for now-- next post will be from Guatemala, arguably the place that has shaped who I am today the most (I went there in high school and it profoundly impacted me). Adios Ecuador!

OH! How could I forget? Yours truly was in an Ecuadorian music video. Yes, you read that correctly. Cory, Katie and I were going for a run along the river in Cuenca one day and came across a music video production set. Cool! we thought, I´ve never been on set before! We had no idea who the singer was, but were watching when the set director motioned towards Cory and I. The singer was singing a ¨Hey Jude¨with lyrics changed to be all about Ecuadorian pride, and love of the country, and we were supposed to walk past him slowly, very moved with pride for ¨our¨country. We did this twice, remarking to eachother afterwards at the irony of using two people from the United States (lets just say the Ecuadorian government isnt fond of the U.S.-- they just kicked out two ambassadors) in their national pride music video. Ryan then told us that they run these videos before presidential speeches. On every channel. Awesome. So sweaty, athletic wearing Maria is now famous for her Ecuadorian pride.

Giving Ecuador a fresh start

After getting my stuff stolen, I was bound and determined to give Ecuador a fresh start. We left for Baños, which is a town in the Andean highlands near the start of the Amazon jungle, known for its thermal springs and extreme sports. Upon arriving we were marveling at the beauty (again, dwarfed by andean peaks), and safety of this town (people walking around at night?! Things open past 7pm?!). As Cory so aptly put it, after our experience in Quito, ¨This is a tourist trap. And I LOVE it!¨

That night, we waited for Bridget and her two friends at a Italian restaurant. We were so excited-- it was as though we were all awaiting the arrival of a sister. Finally the taxi pulled up and an overdramatic show of excitement ensued on the streets of Baños, which ended with a night of stories, hysterical laughter, and just plain bliss. Bridget came to Baños with Mark, a fellow study abroad student, and Ryan who is my friend Santiago´s brother. Santiago´s family lives in Cuenca and has been like a second family to Bridget.

Our time in Baños was well spent. We biked 25 miles through the high, lush green Andean peaks, and let me tell you, that was by far the most beautiful bike ride of my life. Imagine seven of us biking on gravel road with the most stunning views of high peaks, waterfalls, and yes, even lush jungle (the road leads to the Amazon rainforest). We made two detours: the first was bridge\bungee jumping over a river. Alas, I did not partake in this, but both Cory and Bridget and Katie and Ryan did, and it looked like a blast. After that, our next detour took us to a sort of sky-tram over the river gorge and a waterfall. This.was.awesome. Only Bridget didn´t seem to think so. We were suspended by wire cables in a metal wicker basket soaring across the divide. Then we hiked down and across the river on a wooden suspension bridge (also, not Bridget´s cup of tea). After biking the gorgeous 25 miles, we got a ride back in the back of a pickup from some guy on the side of the road. It reminded me that riding in the back of the pickup is my favorite mode of transportation in the world.

The next day, after a night of karaoke singin (don´t mean to brag, but jeanne and I got 98.25%), and dancin´ up a storm (Cory and I were busting out our mad skillz and puttin even the snazziest of Ecuadorians to shame), the others spent the day canyoning (reppeling down waterfalls) while Bridget and I had a chill day in town. We were just paying for our lunch when all of the waitresses in the restaurant excitedly ran towards the door and looked out to the street giggling like crazy. ¨Um, what´s goin´on?¨ I ask. ¨It´s the national soccer team!¨ She squeals.

Sure enough, we exit the restaurant and all over the street are men in soccer jerseys, and in every window and doorway, women excitedly giggle and swoon. Bridget and I walk past a group of them who look up and mutter an ´hola´, and no sooner do we stop at the next candy stall that we are surrounded by soccer players. Where are we from, whats our names, what brings us to Baños, what are we doing tonight? They ask. Now, mind you, Bridget and I have not showered, are dressed borderline frumpy, and having fat days, and we are STILL being hit on by 8-10 Ecuadorian soccer players (much to the envy and dismay of the rest of the women). It was one heck of a confidence booster.

Before leaving Baños we decided to stop at the thermal springs. Now, I´ve been to thermal springs before, but... lets just say this was different. It was like taking an overcrowed bath where the water looked like urine and there were mothers breastfeeding everywhere. At one point a man with a bloody open wound rubbed up against me. There was also a small boy running around with a very apparent (i.e. gross), highly contagious case of chicken pox. It was quite the experience.

Our bus ride from Baños to Cuenca was also an experience. We almost hit someone, the bus swerved and screeched sending people flying. At one point we had to turn around because ¨the mountain fell¨ (a landslide blocked the road), and the way our driver was driving, we were convinced that a) he was drunk and b) we were certainly going to die. While the jury is still out about a, luckily we arrived in Cuenca safe and sound.

We have been in Cuenca all week with Santi and Ryan´s amazing family. But that´s another post. :) Ecuador is definately lookin´up.

A photo (not mine) of outside of Baños along our bike route

My favorite picture: Bridget terrified on the sky tram
Bridget!
Cuy (guinea pig) a national delicacy. Cory and Katie ate these guys.

Shit Got Real, or How I Got All My Stuff Stolen in Quito

Well, we´ve made it safely to Ecuador! Our first impressions were great- no sooner had we touched down on Ecuadorian soil that we were MARVELING at the beauty of Quito-- colorful colonial majesties in a natural bowl rimmed with green hills and volcanos. This was not your typical Latin American capital, so it seemed. We spent our first night in Old Town, a registed UNESCO world heritage site, and apart from the fact that everything closed at 7pm and the overwhelming abundance of armed military personnel everywhere, we were loving Quito. Finally! A Latin American captial that had it goin´on!

The next day was spent sightseeing a bit, the highlight of which undoubtedly being the Catedral del Voto Nacional. This massive gothic cathedral can be seen for miles and boasts one the best (albeit deadliest) views of Quito from it´s crumbling spires. So, naturally, we climbed up the rickety planks (knowing full well that not only would this not be allowed in the states, but that this place would most likely be condemned), and took some great pictures hanging off the side of the cathedral high above the city that I´m sure my mom will love.

After dinner, we grabbed our stuff and went to catch a taxi to Katie´s friend Elizabeth´s host family´s house, where we would be staying for the next few days. It was 7:30pm and getting a taxi was proving to be impossible-- no one would take us. It wasnt until a kind man flagged one down for us, that we seemed to be on our way. We were stopped in the middle of the road and the man was scurrying frantically to help us get our bags in the back so we wouldnt keep backing up traffic. It was because of this crazyness that I did something I NEVER ever do-- I allowed them to stuff my small backpack in back with all the large packs. There was some issue with the trunk shutting, so a couple other passersby came to help stuff it in. ¨Wow¨, we thought naiively, ¨These people sure are nice!¨ Huh.

We get to Elizabeth´s house and lo and behold, I go to the trunk and my backpack is gone. No where to be found. So here I am, on a dark street corner in Quito, yelling, cursing, and kicking my pack (not to mention really creeping out our taxi driver), because EVERYTHING of importance was in this backpack. For example:

-passport
-credit card
-debit card
-insurance card
-drivers license
-flight information
-$150 in cash
-ipod
-cell phone
-digital camera (with memory cards)
-journal
-guidebook
-medicine
-purse and all makeup and jewelery

Awesome right? But, there were several silver linings to this situation. I immediately called and cancelled my credit and debit cards and my cell phone, so nothing was charged. As I already said, my camera was broken anyways (its just the pictures that are gone). My insurance card and drivers license are of no use to anyone outside the U.S. After Ecuador, I didn´t need that guidebook, as it´s ´South America on a Shoestring´. Everything else was replaceable (with the exception of my journal, which is a bummer). Everything except my passport.

I don´t know if any of you have experienced loosing a passport in a foriegn country, but let me tell you, it´s one of the more frustrating experiences in regards to traveling. The next day was spent going to the United States Embassy, waiting in line only to find out that I needed a police report first, then going to the police station only to find out that ¨this station only does police reports for stolen documents. To report all your personal items you need to go to a different police station.¨ Then, going to that police station to (again, of course) wait in line, only to be told by the gentleman with a Nazi tatoo on his hand that ¨this station only deals with police reports for this neighborhood. You need to go back to the neighborhood where it was stolen and go to the police station there.¨ Screw that. It´s not like the theif is going to turn in an ipod and camera anyways.

Then comes the best part of all the errands: getting my new passport picture. I go to this internet cafe/corner store where the woman sits me in front of white paper and takes her digital camera and snaps the picture. The whole time I am facing all my friends making it that much more awkward, and Jeanne directing me to stop slouching, I look weird and have too much cleavage. I ask the woman to take a couple more pictures and finally photo 3 looks like a keeper. She goes to the computer and pulls up photo #1. Awesome. Then, she proceeds to photoshop the background, cutting excess and making it a plain white back ground. She starts tracing my hairline, then, she must not have liked my haircut, because all of a sudden she is giving me a virtual haircut and hacking away at my hair. As if this photoshop makeover wasnt enough, she started clicking a button making my face fatter. Now, my passport picture is a thing of beauty. Everyone will be jealous.

So, I return to the Embassy and the door is locked. A man opens it and tells me to come back at 1:30. Excuse me? It´s lunchtime. Great, thanks a lot. So promptly at 1:30pm with the report of stolen documents from the police station, I tell my story for the 109th time, and for some reason am met with a look of surprise when I tell him (again) that I will be leaving Quito tomorrow, no I will not be coming back to Quito, I am flying out of Guayaquil. Apparently the previous 108 times I told him this, he was nodding just to humor me. Anyways he tells me that the passport won´t be ready by then, in fact, it won´t even be ready by the time my flight leaves Ecuador on the 24th. But, after much pleading and sweet talking, they tell me that, okay, my passport will be ready at 11am the next morning.

(p.s. During this whole time, Cory Jeanne Katie and Elizabeth were such good friends-- they came with my every step of the way, sacrificing their own Quito fun for hours sitting outside the U.S. Embassy playing cards. That night we decided we didnt trust Quito, and stayed in with homemade lasgna, wine, and pirated DVDs)

So, the next day, I return to the embassy (I am now a celebrity, everyone knows me by name and why I am there), and leave with a new passport (complete with a bangin´photo). The last thing for me to do, they tell me, is go to immigration and get an entry stamp for ecuador and paperwork. This should take no more than 30 minutes. Cool.

Here is where I say be grateful for how smoothly opperations run in the U.S. I get there and no one is paying any attention to me or answering my questions. I get to the front of the line, tell him the paperwork I need and he tells me to take a number and sit down. I wait. I watch as all the female police officers are helping people and all the male ones are in a corner laughing and cracking jokes while dozens of people are waiting. I get called to the cubicle of one such male police officer who tells me I dont need the paperwork, just the stamp, go take another number for cubicle 4. The one right next to him with a woman working it. I take another number. I am furious. This is taking 3 hours. As I am waiting, we notice that all the men seemed to dissapear. Now, it was lunchtime, so I just figured that they took their lunch break. Yes, it is a little weird that they take their breaks by gender, but whatever. But just then, the back door opens and all of the male police officers emerge... in soccer uniforms. Dozens of male police officers leaving for the afternoon to play soccer and the women at cubicles putting on makeup and NO ONE helping me. Finally, after hours of waiting for a stupid stamp, we book it out of there and don´t look back.

So, yes, this was a frustrating ordeal. Yes, it is a bummer that I lost all of my important stuff. But, honestly, it really puts things in perspective. After my 15 minute freakout, I just said ¨You know what? This is okay. I´m not hurt, I still have my friends and my health, and everything will work out. This is an exersize in detatching ones self from material posessions, and really knowing whats important.¨ After all I have seen, how can I honestly be angry about not having an ipod? The woman who took my bag was probably desperate. How can I look at all the street families and complain about not having a camera? It doesn´t make sense. So what if I don´t have an ipod or cell phone or camera. These are things that the vast majority of the people I´m seeing will never have. So, I am grateful for this lesson. I don´t ¨need¨any of this stuff. No one does. I like them, but I won´t die without them. This could be the best thing to happen to me on this trip-- to really ground me to everything I am seeing and experiencing, stripping away what´s not important so I can really see what truly is.

Now I couldn´t be happier-- I am in Baños with Bridget!!! But, more on that later. Chao!
Hanging off the Catedral del Voto Nacional
Jeanne, me and Katie inside the CathedralAfter my stuff got stolen, this was the sign I saw: ¨Ecuador: We´re nice people¨At a bar in Puno, Peru, you could write whatever you wanted all over the walls. Here was our contribution- a quote from the movie ´Y Tu Mama Tambien´: ¨Life is like the surf, so give yourself away like the sea¨

Reflactions on my last day in Peru...

Here I am, back in Miraflores, where everything began nearly one month ago. It is amazing how familiar everything feels, yet it glistens with a new sheen after all of the experiences of the past three weeks, rendering it all the more understandible and beautiful. Thinking back on our cherished time here, it is hard not to see it in snapshots. Of rocking sweaty babies, just out of surgery in Lima. Of having to say ¨No gracias¨to the thousanth child who approached me selling homemade finger puppets in Cuzco. Of walking up through the clouds in the humbling, majestic Andes to witness the mist part and the awe-inspiring Machu Picchu laid out before us. Of the Uros woman of the floating isles of Lake Titicaca selling her colorful woven tapestries, while white parasitic tourists laugh and rudely take pictures without regard or permission.

It´s the children laughing in the park. It´s the Argentinian hippies drinking mate. It´s the woman who is spending her last sole (coin) to get her son to the hospital to have cleft palette surgery. It´s the Andean farmer who has to watch a train of rich tourists pass on their way to Machu Picchu, while he scrapes by on less than $1 a day. It´s the children compromising their childhood, selling trinkets to tourists all day so that their family can eat. But, more than that, it´s the smiles, it´s the humor, it´s the enduring friendly nature, happiness and hope of a people who against all odds, and in the bleakest of circumstances, approach life with optimism and a great deal of love.

Peru has taught me a lot. If the mountains have taught me anything, it´s humility. If the sea has taught me anything, it´s serenity. And if the Peruvian people have taught me anything, it´s hope.

Somehow I know that this will not be my last time in Peru. There is something about this country that captivates and touches you on your most primal human level and won´t let go. But, for now, Adiós Perú.

Lake Titicaca

First off, let me just say how thankful I am for my wonderful traveling companions. We hit a rough patch a few days ago, and luckily Cory, Katie, and Jeanne were there to support me.

On Feb 1st, I called my mom to wish her a happy birthday only to find out that she was at St. Joseph´s Hospital. My dad had had a heart attack. Now, by itself, this is a scary situation, but being thousands of miles away... I don´t need to try to convey the fear, shock, and helplessness that creates. Thankfully, they caught it early enough, and it looks like he should be okay. Thanks to everyone for their thoughts and prayers.

The next day, we boarded our overnight bus to Puno, the folklore and festival capital of Peru, located on Lake Titicaca. At 12,500 ft above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world, as well as the largest lake in South America. And, ironically, it looked a lot like northern Minnesota.

Lake Titicaca (which means ´rock or grey puma´) is home to many indigenous island communities, who have (more or less) maintained their way of life over the course of thousands of years. We were given the opportunity to take a boat tour of two such communities: the Uros community and Taquile island.

The Uros live in impressively constructed floating artificial islands made of totora reeds. They originally began constructing these floating communities as a defense against other warring indigenous groups. The Uros main industry (other than tourism) is fishing, and practice trade or sell their fish on the mainland. The Taquile people live on the island of Taquile, approx 7km long. It looked strikingly like the greek isles. The main industry (again, other than tourism) for the Taquile people is agriculture, and the island is full of manmade terraces for farming.

While I was very grateful for the opportunity to go and learn about these communites, I have to say, the whole thing made me feel very uncomfortable. Seeing tourists stick their cameras into the faces of women and children without a word made me almost sick. There was no interaction, no regard for these people as human beings, it was as though they were objects. Objects to be photographed to show friends and family back home. It was more of the uncomfortable feeling that these people are forced to sell out their culture, their dress, their traditions, to tourists. Its a tough situation, because you want to support these communities, but at the same time, is this also spelling the demise of these cultures? I just wish it was more of a respectful responsible cultural exchange, rather than a sort of people-zoo, which is what it felt like.

My camera broke on this trip, so these are not my pictures, but I wanted to include some pictures to give you a taste of Lake Titicaca, the islands and the people. While it was uncomfortable, it was facinating learning about it all.

Gorgeous Lake Titicaca

The floating islands of the Uros
Uros floating islandsTaquile Island

Taquile men (the red cap means they are married)

**Sidenote- in Cuzco we saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and there was one particular part that spoke to me, especially with regards to this trip. For those of you who dont know, its about a man who ages in reverse- born old, dies young. Anyways, at the end of the film, he writes a postcard to his daughter as he is at the end of his life (yet it in the body of a 20something) backpacking in India and elsewhere around the world. To me, this quote is inspiring and something that I wish for myself, my children, my family, and my friends. He writes:

¨For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again. ¨