So long Guatemala, Hello Nicaragua!

Wow. Where to even begin.

Our time in Guatemala is a difficult one to put into words. I can say how we spent our days or who we met, but the most profound part of the experience lies somewhere in that inexplicable corner of your soul, the deepest most profound part of you, but the most difficult to express in a way that does it justice.

In a sense, it was much less about what we did day to day, than how it made us feel. Don´t get me wrong, the day to day was great- we would wake up, go to the mission for an AMAZING breakfast with all 100ish volunteers and find out the jobs we could do that day. After breakfast we would do things like reforestation work, break rock, construction, organizing/cleaning, sorting coffee beans, or (if we were lucky) help make artisan wooden spoons. After that we would return for an equally amazing lunch, work in the afternoon and dinner again with all the volunteers (who come from all over the US but the majority are from Minnesota). We met wonderful lifelong friends; like Erin from New York, Jack from Minneapolis, Roberta from Los Angeles, Paul from Apple Valley, and Matt from Pennsylvania. We shared stories and laughs, and learned much about the history, culture, and traditions of the community. We quickly took on leadership responsabilities in the mission: I led tours, interpreting for lots of people, including interpreting for Chona´s talk. It was a wonderful glipse into the life of a long term volunteer. All this was wonderful, we were being helpful and it helped shape our trip tremendously. However, I experienced the common sentiment that I was getting more out of this experience than I could ever put in.

It's a fine mystery, trying to pinpoint the origin of the peace and tranquilty that engulf you from the moment you arrive. It's like a cool breeze off the lake that reaches through you and settles right in your soul. One huge gift that Guatemala gave me is a renewed interest in faith and spirituality. Blame it on my youth, my cynicism, or overall disdain for authority (thanks Irish blood), but prior to our time in Guatemala, I didn't feel a huge religious connection on this trip. But there was something about this place, something that touched me very deeply and gave me clarity and spoke to my own personal spiritual beliefs. This church wasn´t working for the people, they were working with the people, Catholic or not. Social justice was the name of the game, and liberation theology was the philosophy. I found myself praying for the first time in what seemed like years, and spending time reading, searching, and reflecting. Though I am far from devout, for the time it seems I am back on the journey.

We left Guatemala with mixed excitement and sadness. We couldn't wait to see what Nicaragua had in store for us (after our 2 day bus ride, of course). Three of the four of us (Cory, Jeanne and myself) studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica two years ago, and we couldn't wait to go back to see how things had changed/stayed the same. As the bus rolled into Granada however, I was overcome by the familiarity of my surroundings and the normalcy of being back. In many respects, it was as if we had never left.

We had the pleasure of the company of some of our wonderful friends who came for this past week for their spring break: Christie Cleaves and Kristin Racchini (both studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica last year and were founding members of LASED- our organization dedicated to sustainability, education and development projects in Latin America), and Gina Ploessl, Cory's sister, first time out of the country. We packed a lot in in that week; visiting the beach at San Juan del Sur, the market at Masaya, a volcanic crater lagoon at Laguna de Apoyo, and Isla Ometepe- the Island with two volcanoes in Lake Nicaragua. (Fun fact: Lake Nicaragua is the only place in the world where you can find freshwater sharks!) We had a wonderful time, and it was so great to finally share a central american experience with Christie and Kristin, as well as be there with Gina to see her experience it for the very first time.

So now here we are, gearing up for our three weeks of volunteer work in the community of El Fortín, outside of Granada. For those of you who don't know, when we studied abroad we did a service project in this community. We built a greenhouse, planted herbs to be sold at the market, planted fruit trees, and spent a lot of time with the kids. The subsequent study abroad groups have continued this effort, working on different projects from education, to health and sustainable development. The conditions for the people who live there are not the easiest- Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the hemisphere after Haiti, and making ends meet, especially in a community like El Fortín, is brutally hard. Most of the families have tough decisions to make- do they send their kids to school, spending $35 a year on uniforms and supplies, or do they send their kids to work, and maybe earn a little more for the family? We saw a need in this community, and we decided to take action.

In the spring of 2008, our two study abroad groups came together and formed LASED (Latin American Sustainability Education and Development). We have raised a few thousand dollars for educational scholarships, sustainable developement projects, healthcare and nutition programs, as well as fundraising for a bridge that is desperately needed. We held the first annual El Fortín 5K Marathon last May, Eau Claire will host another this May. If you are in the area, please take part or donate to this wonderful cause!

Okay, enough of my shameless plug. We are very excited to begin work in El Fortín. We will be mostly working as community health workers, taking census information, talking about parasite prevention and other health concerns, as well as nutrition education. This is extremely important because when the other study abroad group tested the kids in El Fortín for intestinal parasites, 100% of them tested postive. We'll also probably be doing some construction and tutoring the kids.

Life is going great, and I could not be happier. All of a sudden 3 1/2 months seems far too short.

Ghosts, memories, testimonies

There are places where the past is no more past than the lingering smell of this morning´s meal. Places where things live on, perhaps not in action, perhaps not materially, but they live on nonetheless, an everpresent reminder in a people´s psyche.

´La Violencia´. This is what the time of the civil war is called here- ´The Violence´. A time of untold horror, a time of unspeakable cruelty, a time of countless atrocities and acts so inhumane it seems unfathomable that they could be carried out by people. Sons. Fathers. Uncles. There are many stories from this time, testimonies only now beginning to be told, only now coming into light, after so many years of forced silence. They weave together to form a tapestry of, at once, the resilience of the human condition, and of the horrors that man can commit. There are many, many stories from this time. Today I had the opportunity to hear one such story.

Her name is Chona. She has worked at the mission for the past 42 years, primarily as a cook, though during ´La Violencia´, her role was much more. Here is her story.

The story of our life here is very hard- 1980, ´81 and ´82 were very difficult years. I am the mother of four, and during the time of ´La Violencia´, we here in the parish worked on behalf of the suffering people in our community- you see, lots of people here had problems either because of the military or because of the guerillas. The guerillas would come and offer the Mayans lots of incentives to join: more land, money, anything to get them to join. During this time, there was much violence at the hands of both, and one had to be completely neutral: if you were to help one person on one side, the other side would come after you and your family.

Before the peace accords in 1996, we were not allowed to talk about ´La Violencia´; it was too dangerous. Though there was violence everywhere, we here in the highlands were hit the hardest by the military forces.

It is very hard for me to talk about this. I lost my husband to the military, and when I am telling the story I relive the moment. I know I am not the only one who suffered, there were many. I know people whose parents were killed in front of them; whose children were killed in front of them.

I didn´t see my husband murdered. He worked on a land redistribution project, so for his work, the military accused him of being a guerilla. At this time you couldn´t do anything to help the people; by helping others you were accused of being a guerilla. One day, my husband was working with some final paperwork on a project, and went to meet with some lawyers in Sololá. He never returned. We were told that he was taken by the military- dissapeared. 28 years ago this happened. We were never told any more.

Still, it feels like yesterday. The pain I remember the most is trying to take care of my children; night after night staying at different houses for fear that the military would come and kill me and my children in the night. I had to fight hard for my children and I prayed hard for the strength to help others.

In 1982 I had to help a group of children. I knew that the military was on their trail, looking for them and would certainly kill them.

Only Father Greg and I knew the movements of the guerillas and the military. We could tell no one and we worked together many times to save others.

One day, a priest in the Quiché region called Father Greg asking for his help, saying there was a group of children who neede to be saved. Their parents were killed right in front of them, and by the grace of God, somehow they escaped and survived. The military knew that they had witnessed the murders and so they were looking for them to kill them as well, to leave no trail, no witnesses.

So the priest asked Father Greg to help get them and bring them to a local orphanage. All in all, there were eleven kids from two families, the youngest were one year and a year and a half.

¨How do we get them out?¨ Father Greg asked me. ¨If the military finds out, they´ll kill us all. But, if we do nothing, they´ll kill the children. How are we going to get them out?¨

I told him ¨Look for a car and a driver and I will go get them myself.¨ So we got a car and a driver and we went to Quiché. There were three military checkpoints along the way. I went with a letter for the priest from Father Greg saying that I was coming to get the kids. I was so scared and worried about what would happen if we were caught. I told the priest to tell the children that if the military asked, that I was their mother. Only, I was scared because I was only 30 at the time, and there were 11 kids. They´ll never believe me.

The priest said that he would pray for us. I told the kids- tell them I am your mother and that we were coming to visit family in Quiché, but that you are from San Lucas Tolíman. So, we left and the kids were very sad to leave their family, their home, all that they knew. It still hurts my heart to think of them. I remember the eldest child hiding the suitcases of their few belongings under the seat, so as to not upset the other children.

At the first military checkpoint, everyone was scared, shaking and crying. I told the children ¨Don´t worry, calm down, the military will want to talk to me not you, we´ll be fine. But, if they see you crying, they´ll never believe us and they´ll kill us all.¨ The officer stopped us asking what I was doing here with all these kids. I told him that I was their mother and we were coming back from visiting family in Quiché. Another officer told him to take us all out of the car to question us, but by luck, the first officer said, ´no just check around the perimeter of the car for weapons.´ And they let us go.

At the second military checkpoint, again all the children were scared and crying. I thought ahead of time to bring candy, and I gave each of them a piece of candy, so they would be distracted when we got to the checkpoint. Again, an officer asked ¨Where are you taking all these kids?¨ Again, I told him, I am their mother and we are coming back from visiting family in Quiché. I felt bad because the eldest children were holding the younger ones as I was talking to the military, because they were still scared of me because I was a stranger. And thank God, once again, they only checked the outside of the car before letting us go.

At the third military checkpoint, the kids were again scared and crying. I told them this time ¨Let´s pray together¨ so that when the military came, they would see that we were praying. Again, an officer approached the car and asked ¨Who are you? Where are you going with all these kids?¨ I told him that I was their mother and that we were from San Lucas Tolíman, just coming back from visiting family in Quiché. The officer yelled to the others ¨Take them out of the car.¨ Another officer said ¨No, they´re kids, they don´t have weapons, they´re fine, leave them.¨ By the grace of God, they let us go.

When we were finally just outside San Lucas Tolíman, I turned to the children and told them we have arrived, thank God, we are saved, we are free. You´ll have a home, Father Greg will take care of you and no one will come after you in the night. You can laugh, you can cry, because thank God, you are safe, you are free.

Three of the children stayed in town and are now married with children. For christmas every year, there is a tradition of eating tamales and bread, and they brought me these telling me ¨Thank you, you are our mother.¨

From that time, Father Greg and I helped many people with problems with the military and guerillas. We helped children, families, and the religious as well because at this time many religious were being killed. And to help all of these people, we were accused of being guerrillas by the government. We recieved a letter from the military saying that they were going to kill us for this work we were doing, so we were forced to flee to the United States for five months.

When we returned, I took up my work helping the widows, and I still help sell their weavings and crafts, to help them support their families.

This is my story. There are many others. Thank you and God bless you all.

Back to beginnings-- Guatemala

GUATEMALA! As I have said before, my first trip to Guatemala five years ago changed my life. At the time, I was an insecure 18 year old with a big heart, but little life experience. My path to Guatemala actually began four years earlier: I was taking a Spanish class at the high school and a group came and talked to us about their service trip to San Lucas Toliman, Guatemala. I was mesmorized, and in December 2003, I finally got my wish: I was accepted to go on the Guatemala trip.

To say that it changed and impacted me is a laughable understatement. Much of what I am today; much of what I am passionate about and people on campus knew me for: coordinator of trips to the School of the Americas protest, president of the Latin American Sustainability Education and Development, and the Latin American Studies Club, fundraiser for sustainable development and humanitarian aid projects, advocate for social justice-- much of all this was born out of and shaped by my time here.

We have been here five days and it´s amazing how quickly things come back. The smell of wood-burning stoves, the sounds of marimbas and ranchero music, the colorful huipiles (women´s traditional woven blouses), the stunning scenery, the smiles and ¨buenos dìas¨of everyone you pass, and the overwhelming feeling of being at peace: all uniquely spell Guatemala to me. It is incredible coming back to a place that played such a pivitol role in shaping the person I am today. There is something about this place that fills me with such unbridled happiness and peace, and at the same time such a motivation and drive for social justice work. So far, our time here has been spent sorting coffee beans, working on reforestation projects, helping make wooden artisan works for sale, and going to other communities, learning all we can about guatemala, social justice and liberation theology (and meeting some wonderful people along the way!).

San Lucas Toliman is located in the Mayan highlands of Guatemala on the shores of Lake Atitlan, surrounded by three volcanoes. This is an area of at once rich cultural heritage and a devistating history of bloodshed. In the 1950´s Guatemala had it´s first democratically elected president Jacobo Arbenz, and one thing that he recognized people were suffering from was lack of land (at this time about two dozen families owned almost all the land in Guatemala, forcing the vast majority of Guatemalans to ´work´on coffee plantations (work is a relative term, it would be looked at more like indentured servitude today)). Anyways, one of the biggest landholders in Guatemala was the United Fruit Company (now Chiquita). Arbenz decides to go through with his land redistribution, so notifies United Fruit Company and tells them that the government will pay them per acre the value of their land, as they claimed on their taxes. Well, United Fruit claimed much less than it was worth, and they were furious, and some of the board members were also in the CIA. So, in 1954, the CIA orchestrated a coup d'ètat to depose of the democratically-elected Jacobo Arbenz. There was a devestating 36-year civil war, which culminated with a horrific genecide at the hands of (among others) General Efraín Rios Montt in the 1970s and 80s. Death squads, dissapearances, massacres of whole villages, extortion, rape, and assasinations were commonplace, many times daily occurences. According to the U.N. Truth Commission, the Guatemalan government forces were responsible for over 93% of the human rights violations during the war. During the first 10 years of the war, they targeted students, workers, religious persons, professionals, and opposition figures, but in the last years it was thousands of mostly rural Mayan farmers and non-combatants. Over 450 Mayan villages were destroyed and over 1 million people became internal and external refugees. The civil war ended with the signing of the peace accords in 1996.

Despite all the bloodshed and violent past, Guatemala remains the most entrancing, loving, and, yes, magical, place I have ever been. It´s ironic how a place with such a violent past (and, very often, present) inspires the deepest sense of peace I have ever known.

Well, it´s back to work for us. Cory just left to shoot a wedding in Mexico for a week, and so it´s just us girls holding down the fort for awhile. Here are some pictures courtesy of my friend Mira, from my last time down here:

Market in Santiago AtitlanAna and Miriam

¨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.