The pain of missing Bahia madly was lessened when arriving in the artsy town of Cuenca. This town pulses with live energy and creativity up and down its cobble-stoned streets. With galleries and artsy types and dirty hippies and live music and markets full of hand-made goods and textiles and sweaters and on and on and on, I'm in love at first sight. I want only more time in this beautiful city with rivers running through it and mountains surrounding it.
Wednesday Laura and I headed to Cafe Ecualypto, where ladies drink free all night according to Lonely Planet. We sat down and ordered some hummus, seeing the sign proclaiming, "3 FREE DRINKS!....for $4" I think that's "3 drinks...for not much money". but welcome to Ecuador. Whatever, we enjoyed our discounted-because-of-our-gender drinks and headed over to Cuenca's Wednesday night salsa hotspot, La Mesa.
An eclectic crowd of both locals and gringos were packed into this sweaty hole-in-the-wall salsa club. long hair and piercings and odors and plaid and beanies, oh my.
Laura and I grabbed a tiny corner table and sipped our beers, waiting for the inevitable. Sure enough, in a matter of minutes, Rafael, a local artist, sat down to join us and wanted to dance.
He embraced my salsa di gringa on the dance floor and I've never been twirled and spun so much.
Laura and I walked back afterward with some guys from our hostel. Kicking it on the hostel's rooftop, he German hopped the tin roof over to the next hostel, the Argentinian smoked his foot-long pipe and passed around Frosted Flakes, and the American talked about his shwarma cravings. sounds about right.
Friday morning Rafael picked us up at our hostel to go check out some local galleries and museums- or so we thought. He told us his architect buddy was waiting in his car to take us to a nearby pueblo where he had built a house. Ok, por que no?
We drove about 45 minutes away in the back of a tiny egg of a car to see the most beautiful house I've seen in Ecuador. Complete with every flower and plant imaginable and a backyard pool and hot tub. Apparently the owner's father works in the States. Go figure.
We then headed into town looking for some cuy ( better known to us as guinea pig, and one of Ecuadorian's specialties).
They must have been fresh out of the furry-faced rodent but we passed by a row of 5 full-size pigs just sprawled out and baked to a crisp.
A woman broke off a piece of its crispy skin and handed us some. Mmm.
Actually, I nearly gagged but Laura loved it and we ordered three plates. Freshy fresh, right out the gut.
Safely back in Cuenca, trying not to think about what we just did to our insides, Laura and I bummed around, popping in and out of shops that caught our eyes until sunset where we got a $2.50 box of wine and sat by the river.
Bad location choice. First Laura sat on what we are pretty sure was human urine, then a crack-head approached us, and when we were trying to leave this hell-hole we saw 4 or 5 giant river rats.
Now, my fear of mice has improved a bit- it used to be something fierce. Fierce like the crazy phobic people on Jerry Springer who go into full blown seizures over buttons and shit. But seeing these giant rats, capable of eating stray dogs-I'm sure- just scurrying along the river's path, plotting my death, I went into full panic-mode. I lost all ability to speak and just ran ran ran up far away to safety.
"That's where people go to die," Laura said out of breath running behind me.
Once I regained my cool we met up with Rafael and he took us to an art exhibit in town. It was like entering another world as everyone was dressed sleekly in black with their 'I'm so fricken artsy' glasses and shoes that go tap tap.
Laura, Andy and I were pretty out of place as Andy wore an inside out Hollister T, I was in jeggings and a multi-colored scarf and Laura had a half-full box of vino tucked away in her giant bag.
Laura's near blindness worked in her favor, ,however, as she sported some pretty trendy glasses- offsetting her $2 rainbow flip-flops.
The artist, Tomas Ochoa, was voted one of Europe's top 100 artists and displayed work on Ecuadorian gold miners exploited by Americans. Little awkward for us.
At one point in the film the interviewer asked the 100 year-old retired miner if he was ever interested in any of the American women.
"Absolutely not" he responded as Laura and I shared uncomfortable giggles and corrected our postures in a room full of Latinos.
No more jeggings for me.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
hasta la bye bye Bahia
My last week in Bahia I made every attempt to soak up every drop of sunshine, eat pork sandwiches sometimes twice in one day, order a daily banana, coco or raspberry batido, smile at every surfer on the beach, share a Pilsener or two with Peter Mero, the world's greatest bartender, and follow that bliss.
The work this week was a bit more lax than usual. maybe even more sing-a-longs than the average workday- and definitely more hammock breaks. Laura and I cooked our last communal dinner of encocado camarones, trying to replicate our meal from Puerto Lopez. We had no idea the amount of work that went into that dish. First of all, who knew how hard it was to open a dried coconut? It took Clay with his giant machete and then Laura with a huge hammer to break it into pieces, followed by shaving the second outside layer and passing it to me to grade it down into shavings. This process alone took two hours and involved blood, sweat, and nearly tears. Months of reforestation and work with a machete- all in preperation for our last meal.
Then the rest of the Planet Drummers came back from their nightly sunset spotting and were recruited to help us de-poop our shrimps. All in all we didnt end up eating until about 10 p.m., but man, it was worth it. I wouldn't even call it a meal so much as a life experience.
Laura and I also made sure we tried some surfing in this last week. Surfing is always something I've wanted to do, and now that I've tried it (and failed pretty miserably) I am kind of tempted to make it a lifelong hoby aka always live near an ocean. Though the times I got up only lasted a few fleeting moments, that brief feeling of riding- literally balancing on the tremendous energy of a wave- was unreal. That, and every dude that surfs is pretty sexy in my book.
We spent our last weekend in this town we've grown to love so much. Saturday was a joint celebration for Laura's 24th birthday and our farewell. We rented out a restaurant of one of Orlando's friends and had some kabobs, bruschetta, sangria and tres leche bday cake. It was pretty intimate with just the Planet Drummers, about 12 of us in all. Toasts were said, games were played (a spongebob piñata made an apperance), and sangria was drank.
After, we headed to a Pink Panther Pool Party that our friend Jose was bartending at. Laura and I even went out and bought horribly tacky bright shiny pink skirts for 3 bucks which we turned into some fabulous pink dresses. We looked like two shiny bubblegum cupcakes from the 80s ready to boogie.
We got to the party around 1 a.m. and were for sure the rowdiest bunch there- jumping into the pool and ordering drinks like it was going out of style.
Just as I was dripping wet ordering my second cocktail, this big-boobed blond Canadian cougar karate chopped my arm and yelled "NO MAS!" Aparently this headcase was the hostess and no likey the other gringos crashing her party.
She stopped the music and insisted only the Planet Drummers leave.
I've been to my share of parties but never has this happened to me before.
(Unless you count in 4th grade when Nell Curtis sent me and Jenny Zarilla home because she wasn't getting enough attention.)
Anyways, about half the party ended up joining us and we all made our way to Peter Mero's Bar (" where everybody knows your name...") and partied on the beach until 7 a.m.
Our last day Monday I spent the majority of the day fighting back tears. Bahia is a beautiful city with beautiful people. I don't think I've ever felt so embraced in my life. Our hosts Clay and Margarita were wonderful. Clay with his laid-back surfer attitude who would respond to Sol's crying with "What's up, man?". Margarita who was your classic curvy Latina but a total goof-troop. Clay tols us if you don't know what she's saying, its probably sexual. And Sol, that nakey lil chonchito-found playing with needles or wrenches and peeing on the floor- I hope our paths cross in 20 years and I can buy him a beer.
It felt good to live substainably and communally with such wonderful souls while making the world a better place one tree at a time.
Amore y paz Bahia, amore y paz.
"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede into the plain until you see their specs dispersing? It's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."
-Jack Kerouac
The work this week was a bit more lax than usual. maybe even more sing-a-longs than the average workday- and definitely more hammock breaks. Laura and I cooked our last communal dinner of encocado camarones, trying to replicate our meal from Puerto Lopez. We had no idea the amount of work that went into that dish. First of all, who knew how hard it was to open a dried coconut? It took Clay with his giant machete and then Laura with a huge hammer to break it into pieces, followed by shaving the second outside layer and passing it to me to grade it down into shavings. This process alone took two hours and involved blood, sweat, and nearly tears. Months of reforestation and work with a machete- all in preperation for our last meal.
Then the rest of the Planet Drummers came back from their nightly sunset spotting and were recruited to help us de-poop our shrimps. All in all we didnt end up eating until about 10 p.m., but man, it was worth it. I wouldn't even call it a meal so much as a life experience.
Laura and I also made sure we tried some surfing in this last week. Surfing is always something I've wanted to do, and now that I've tried it (and failed pretty miserably) I am kind of tempted to make it a lifelong hoby aka always live near an ocean. Though the times I got up only lasted a few fleeting moments, that brief feeling of riding- literally balancing on the tremendous energy of a wave- was unreal. That, and every dude that surfs is pretty sexy in my book.
We spent our last weekend in this town we've grown to love so much. Saturday was a joint celebration for Laura's 24th birthday and our farewell. We rented out a restaurant of one of Orlando's friends and had some kabobs, bruschetta, sangria and tres leche bday cake. It was pretty intimate with just the Planet Drummers, about 12 of us in all. Toasts were said, games were played (a spongebob piñata made an apperance), and sangria was drank.
After, we headed to a Pink Panther Pool Party that our friend Jose was bartending at. Laura and I even went out and bought horribly tacky bright shiny pink skirts for 3 bucks which we turned into some fabulous pink dresses. We looked like two shiny bubblegum cupcakes from the 80s ready to boogie.
We got to the party around 1 a.m. and were for sure the rowdiest bunch there- jumping into the pool and ordering drinks like it was going out of style.
Just as I was dripping wet ordering my second cocktail, this big-boobed blond Canadian cougar karate chopped my arm and yelled "NO MAS!" Aparently this headcase was the hostess and no likey the other gringos crashing her party.
She stopped the music and insisted only the Planet Drummers leave.
I've been to my share of parties but never has this happened to me before.
(Unless you count in 4th grade when Nell Curtis sent me and Jenny Zarilla home because she wasn't getting enough attention.)
Anyways, about half the party ended up joining us and we all made our way to Peter Mero's Bar (" where everybody knows your name...") and partied on the beach until 7 a.m.
Our last day Monday I spent the majority of the day fighting back tears. Bahia is a beautiful city with beautiful people. I don't think I've ever felt so embraced in my life. Our hosts Clay and Margarita were wonderful. Clay with his laid-back surfer attitude who would respond to Sol's crying with "What's up, man?". Margarita who was your classic curvy Latina but a total goof-troop. Clay tols us if you don't know what she's saying, its probably sexual. And Sol, that nakey lil chonchito-found playing with needles or wrenches and peeing on the floor- I hope our paths cross in 20 years and I can buy him a beer.
It felt good to live substainably and communally with such wonderful souls while making the world a better place one tree at a time.
Amore y paz Bahia, amore y paz.
"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede into the plain until you see their specs dispersing? It's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."
-Jack Kerouac
Friday, April 23, 2010
Poor Man's Galapagos>swamp creatures
Obviously a big attraction here in Ecuador is the Galapogos Islands, but when you're fresh out of college and managed to save some money for this trip only after working a month or two at a rowdy South Milwaukee sports bar, you take the Poor Man's Galapogos route.
We headed to Puerto Lopez for this reason. The morning before our tour started we made our way bright and early to the shore to see the fishermen bring in their morning catch. Dozens of fragate birds circled the sky and swooped just above our heads- the ballsiest ones diving right down into the buckets. It was a scene right out of "birds" and it was terrifyingly fantastic.
The trip to Isla de Plata was about an hour boat ride with our capitan and about 10 other travelers. The hike around the island took about 4 hours and was beauitful. We saw 4 different types of bird species, including the fragates (my favorite) and the blue footed boobies. haha, boobies. We also got insanely close to the nesting grounds of the Nasca bird whom apparently only chooses one baby bird to feed and keep alive, letting the others die. Sad. Reeeally glad this wasn't the case with Kali and I...
After the hike we got back on the boat and did some near-by snorkeling. Although there weren't many fish, the experience was totally surreal. All other noises from the above sea world were lost and I felt part of this underwater world as I swam along side schools of fish.
After the tour we enjoyed some Pilseners in the beach hammocks and watched the sunset behind the fishing boats. Our friends Ramon y Alfraño from Bahia surprised us by showing up in their Canadian friend´s pick-up truck. This meant we had a posse of 35-55 year-old men to party with for the evening. Love me some old men.
Alfraño is such a character and probably one of the coolest people I've ever met. He's probably like 55 years old, totally bald, drives this classically cool old red car all around town and smokes about 18 joints a day. No joke. He tip-toes the lines of sanity at times, but I feel if he was only about 30 years younger, he'd be my soul mate.
We went to this cool outdoor beach-side restaurant for dinner where Laura and I split a delicious dish of enscado camarones (coconut shrimp) and Alfraño kept the vino flowing.
We joined some kiddos's soccer game quickly on the street before heading to the beach for the night. There, we finished off the box of wine as we realized Ecuadorian, Canadian or American, we were all thankful for the same things in our lives- namely, the people we love.
Sunday morning we headed early to Aqua Blacas. Here, we took a brief tour of their small museum where the guide told us about the concha shells that were once used for currency before gold was introduced; and the potent hallucinogenic drug ayahuaska from the San Pedro cactus. (another one of Alfraño's interests)
Then we made our way to the sulfer pool where we proceeded to cover every inch of our body in a thick mud before jumping into the smelliest pool of pure sulfer water.
"Why are we in this stupid rotten-egg smelly pool?", Laura asked immediately after entering.
Apparently it has healing properties and makes the skin silky smooth. I don't think the normally chatty Sarah spoke a word while bathing in it as she was dangerously close to vomiting.
The smell was repulsive, but turning into strange tribal/amphibian lochness creatures was pretty great.
On the way back to Bahia we made a quick stop at Playa de Frailes which honeslty looked like a bubble out of somebody's dream. This beach was breath-takingly beautiful. Our modern day technology of photography fails miserably in its efforts to capture it. The 7 of us stared silently in amazement. The waves were like nothing I've ever seen as the steepness of the beach caused a rip-tide clapping affect on the waves, making them double or triple in size.
The rest of our 3 hour ride back to Bahia, Andy, Sam and I were the lucky ones to ride in the back of the truck. I've gotten quite used to riding in the backs of trucks actually. I don't hate it.
We headed to Puerto Lopez for this reason. The morning before our tour started we made our way bright and early to the shore to see the fishermen bring in their morning catch. Dozens of fragate birds circled the sky and swooped just above our heads- the ballsiest ones diving right down into the buckets. It was a scene right out of "birds" and it was terrifyingly fantastic.
The trip to Isla de Plata was about an hour boat ride with our capitan and about 10 other travelers. The hike around the island took about 4 hours and was beauitful. We saw 4 different types of bird species, including the fragates (my favorite) and the blue footed boobies. haha, boobies. We also got insanely close to the nesting grounds of the Nasca bird whom apparently only chooses one baby bird to feed and keep alive, letting the others die. Sad. Reeeally glad this wasn't the case with Kali and I...
After the hike we got back on the boat and did some near-by snorkeling. Although there weren't many fish, the experience was totally surreal. All other noises from the above sea world were lost and I felt part of this underwater world as I swam along side schools of fish.
After the tour we enjoyed some Pilseners in the beach hammocks and watched the sunset behind the fishing boats. Our friends Ramon y Alfraño from Bahia surprised us by showing up in their Canadian friend´s pick-up truck. This meant we had a posse of 35-55 year-old men to party with for the evening. Love me some old men.
Alfraño is such a character and probably one of the coolest people I've ever met. He's probably like 55 years old, totally bald, drives this classically cool old red car all around town and smokes about 18 joints a day. No joke. He tip-toes the lines of sanity at times, but I feel if he was only about 30 years younger, he'd be my soul mate.
We went to this cool outdoor beach-side restaurant for dinner where Laura and I split a delicious dish of enscado camarones (coconut shrimp) and Alfraño kept the vino flowing.
We joined some kiddos's soccer game quickly on the street before heading to the beach for the night. There, we finished off the box of wine as we realized Ecuadorian, Canadian or American, we were all thankful for the same things in our lives- namely, the people we love.
Sunday morning we headed early to Aqua Blacas. Here, we took a brief tour of their small museum where the guide told us about the concha shells that were once used for currency before gold was introduced; and the potent hallucinogenic drug ayahuaska from the San Pedro cactus. (another one of Alfraño's interests)
Then we made our way to the sulfer pool where we proceeded to cover every inch of our body in a thick mud before jumping into the smelliest pool of pure sulfer water.
"Why are we in this stupid rotten-egg smelly pool?", Laura asked immediately after entering.
Apparently it has healing properties and makes the skin silky smooth. I don't think the normally chatty Sarah spoke a word while bathing in it as she was dangerously close to vomiting.
The smell was repulsive, but turning into strange tribal/amphibian lochness creatures was pretty great.
On the way back to Bahia we made a quick stop at Playa de Frailes which honeslty looked like a bubble out of somebody's dream. This beach was breath-takingly beautiful. Our modern day technology of photography fails miserably in its efforts to capture it. The 7 of us stared silently in amazement. The waves were like nothing I've ever seen as the steepness of the beach caused a rip-tide clapping affect on the waves, making them double or triple in size.
The rest of our 3 hour ride back to Bahia, Andy, Sam and I were the lucky ones to ride in the back of the truck. I've gotten quite used to riding in the backs of trucks actually. I don't hate it.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
COCO LOCO
I thought this dude who worked at the internet place hated me but my constant need to get my facebook fix just landed me a lil cherry-flavored candy. i will use this moment to confess my sins and never talk foul about his oddly shaped Ecua-fro ever again.
anywayysss...a couple weeks ago leading up to Easter was "semana santa"- the Roman Catholic holy week. To me, this seemed to mean the people from the mountains headed to the coast to get drunk and ride around on a giant light-up caterpillar for 8 bucks a person.
We escaped the madness Friday night to Punta Gorda where Ramon (one of the branches of the Planet Drum family) has a little house high up on a hill above a secluded beach. The house is just a one-roomed log cabin on stilts with a couple bunkbeds and a basin for recycled rain water that he built himself. Crafty guy. The house served as a great point for Sarah's new hobby as bird watcher, I'm sure. (Sidenote: She continues in her previous passion of hand-dancing)
Ramon's friend Jose was in town from Prauge and joined the other Planet Drummers for the weekend. He reminded Andy of Benicio del Toro's character in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas", aka the crazed Latino always hopped up on something and as I observed Jose in his boxer briefs refilling a coconut with caña, screaming "COCO LOCO!" and demanding more rolling papers, I saw Andy's point.
During the day we hunted for oysters, prying them off rocks and busting them open with hammers and big iron sticks. At one point I grabbed a shoe and dove face-first into the sand to trap an unlucky panicked crab. I watched Jose jam a stick into the lil crabby's belly and the yellowish-brown goo run out. I decided he couldn't go to waste and ate him raw after squeezing some lime on him.
It was not the most delicious thing I've eaten in Ecuador.
Night fell and out popped billions of stars I didn't even know existed. We built ourselves a bonfire on the beach and had some wonderful sing-a-longs. The older English couple, Jane and Simon, brought some gems to the table, but I prefer Janis Joplin's "Me and Bobby McGee" not sung like it was a classic English proverb sung in a choir. Glory Glory Hallejuela on the other hand has never sounded better.
These new volunteers are hilariously English. There we were in the middle of no where and they are looking for brush to build a fire so they can have their tea at tea time. No bloody crumpets though. Bollocks.
Back in Bahia Saturday night there was a concert near the beach where the Planet Drummers served as some type of bizarre gringo freak show as we all got down real hard with our lanky white folk dances amongst the suave salsa and meregue. We busted out some classics like the soul train and some limbo though. Not the biggest hits however. All in all, it was a good six hours of dancing...capped off with hands down the best hamburger I've had in my life. Yea yea I've had Kopps & Solly's in Milwaukee and Matt's in Minne.
The hamberguesa man's name is Guaña and he pulls up next to a playground in his burger-bicylce cart to serve the intoxicated citizens of Bahia the greatest drunchie of their lives. There is a legit facebook fan club for him and his delcious late-night treats.
I would like nothing more than to make this man my husband.
anywayysss...a couple weeks ago leading up to Easter was "semana santa"- the Roman Catholic holy week. To me, this seemed to mean the people from the mountains headed to the coast to get drunk and ride around on a giant light-up caterpillar for 8 bucks a person.
We escaped the madness Friday night to Punta Gorda where Ramon (one of the branches of the Planet Drum family) has a little house high up on a hill above a secluded beach. The house is just a one-roomed log cabin on stilts with a couple bunkbeds and a basin for recycled rain water that he built himself. Crafty guy. The house served as a great point for Sarah's new hobby as bird watcher, I'm sure. (Sidenote: She continues in her previous passion of hand-dancing)
Ramon's friend Jose was in town from Prauge and joined the other Planet Drummers for the weekend. He reminded Andy of Benicio del Toro's character in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas", aka the crazed Latino always hopped up on something and as I observed Jose in his boxer briefs refilling a coconut with caña, screaming "COCO LOCO!" and demanding more rolling papers, I saw Andy's point.
During the day we hunted for oysters, prying them off rocks and busting them open with hammers and big iron sticks. At one point I grabbed a shoe and dove face-first into the sand to trap an unlucky panicked crab. I watched Jose jam a stick into the lil crabby's belly and the yellowish-brown goo run out. I decided he couldn't go to waste and ate him raw after squeezing some lime on him.
It was not the most delicious thing I've eaten in Ecuador.
Night fell and out popped billions of stars I didn't even know existed. We built ourselves a bonfire on the beach and had some wonderful sing-a-longs. The older English couple, Jane and Simon, brought some gems to the table, but I prefer Janis Joplin's "Me and Bobby McGee" not sung like it was a classic English proverb sung in a choir. Glory Glory Hallejuela on the other hand has never sounded better.
These new volunteers are hilariously English. There we were in the middle of no where and they are looking for brush to build a fire so they can have their tea at tea time. No bloody crumpets though. Bollocks.
Back in Bahia Saturday night there was a concert near the beach where the Planet Drummers served as some type of bizarre gringo freak show as we all got down real hard with our lanky white folk dances amongst the suave salsa and meregue. We busted out some classics like the soul train and some limbo though. Not the biggest hits however. All in all, it was a good six hours of dancing...capped off with hands down the best hamburger I've had in my life. Yea yea I've had Kopps & Solly's in Milwaukee and Matt's in Minne.
The hamberguesa man's name is Guaña and he pulls up next to a playground in his burger-bicylce cart to serve the intoxicated citizens of Bahia the greatest drunchie of their lives. There is a legit facebook fan club for him and his delcious late-night treats.
I would like nothing more than to make this man my husband.
Monday, March 29, 2010
got scabies?
The term "dirty hippie" gained new meaning for me this weekend when our dreadlocked, festy-junky, raver of a roommate Jen found out a couple of her million bug bites were in fact scabies.
Suz served as translator at the doctor's office and promptly came to tell Laura and I as we were sharing a beer wtih some locals.
"You should live your life alone and sad," said the most insane of the 4 older men before Suz delivered us the news.
Maybe he has a point. Alone and sad, but scabie-free.
Since then we've boiled and washed or bagged and quarentined all of our belongings, covered our beds with a thick plastic and duct tape and fumigated the room.
I lathered, soaked and scrubbed myself only before covering my entire body with a potent cream meant to kill the little buggers (if they were there at all).
So here's to a new sense of appreciation for hygiene. Thank you scabies.
Suz served as translator at the doctor's office and promptly came to tell Laura and I as we were sharing a beer wtih some locals.
"You should live your life alone and sad," said the most insane of the 4 older men before Suz delivered us the news.
Maybe he has a point. Alone and sad, but scabie-free.
Since then we've boiled and washed or bagged and quarentined all of our belongings, covered our beds with a thick plastic and duct tape and fumigated the room.
I lathered, soaked and scrubbed myself only before covering my entire body with a potent cream meant to kill the little buggers (if they were there at all).
So here's to a new sense of appreciation for hygiene. Thank you scabies.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
wookie spotting
We knew just how touristy Canoa was when our menu had ranch dressing listed. Regardless of the fact it tasted like hot-dog water (accodring to ranch expert Sarah Horner), the rest of our Friday night meal was delicious.
Afterwards, however, I have mixed feelings about.
Though the beaches, the hotels, the home-made jewlry, and the people were beautiful- the night life was a little sketchy. As street bars close relatively early, little tiki huts lined up along the beach are open late and blare tencho music as kajillions of latino men watch for the fresh gringa bait. (they say the sharks on land are more dangerous than the sharks in the water..)
While downing beers and pretending not to hate the techno beats, little did we know we had a contender for Mr. Ecuador sitting next to us. We found this out only after Laura smooched this AC Slater/Prince look-alike. Never to be forgotten though. thats for sure.
Sunday came a little too fast and we hopped aboard the roof of a bus overloaded with people, bags, and live chickens. My fear of tumbling overboard to my death was eased by a drunk Ecuadorian man singing and passing around shots of caña. Good man.
Now back in Bahia, its really starting to feel like a home away from home.
On the way to the bus station I'll run into the woman who sells me my morning bananas, or on my way to the beach I'll run into the infamous Peter Mero at Bar Hermanos Mero.
This week I spent a good amount of time hanging out with some kids I met the first week here and realized a friendship was pretty inevitable as they make their living performing fire shows.
My palm reading by Victor told him a horrible accident would happen in my life but I would live through it. Really? A crease in my palm told you that? I could tell you that based on my track record. But I'm also destined to have 2 children.
I'm pretty sure time hasn't even existed this week as the only time I'm concious of it is at 7 a.m. when Manu Chao or The Band wakes us up; or when the sun sets, telling us its time to head back for our communal dinner.
Baby Sol is naked and throwing food everywhere as the rest of us go back for second and third helpings. Mmmm's all around.
"There are things you do because they feel right and they may make no sense and they may make no money and it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other and to eat each other's cooking and say it was good."
Afterwards, however, I have mixed feelings about.
Though the beaches, the hotels, the home-made jewlry, and the people were beautiful- the night life was a little sketchy. As street bars close relatively early, little tiki huts lined up along the beach are open late and blare tencho music as kajillions of latino men watch for the fresh gringa bait. (they say the sharks on land are more dangerous than the sharks in the water..)
While downing beers and pretending not to hate the techno beats, little did we know we had a contender for Mr. Ecuador sitting next to us. We found this out only after Laura smooched this AC Slater/Prince look-alike. Never to be forgotten though. thats for sure.
Sunday came a little too fast and we hopped aboard the roof of a bus overloaded with people, bags, and live chickens. My fear of tumbling overboard to my death was eased by a drunk Ecuadorian man singing and passing around shots of caña. Good man.
Now back in Bahia, its really starting to feel like a home away from home.
On the way to the bus station I'll run into the woman who sells me my morning bananas, or on my way to the beach I'll run into the infamous Peter Mero at Bar Hermanos Mero.
This week I spent a good amount of time hanging out with some kids I met the first week here and realized a friendship was pretty inevitable as they make their living performing fire shows.
My palm reading by Victor told him a horrible accident would happen in my life but I would live through it. Really? A crease in my palm told you that? I could tell you that based on my track record. But I'm also destined to have 2 children.
I'm pretty sure time hasn't even existed this week as the only time I'm concious of it is at 7 a.m. when Manu Chao or The Band wakes us up; or when the sun sets, telling us its time to head back for our communal dinner.
Baby Sol is naked and throwing food everywhere as the rest of us go back for second and third helpings. Mmmm's all around.
"There are things you do because they feel right and they may make no sense and they may make no money and it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other and to eat each other's cooking and say it was good."
Thursday, March 18, 2010
home sweaty home
When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, whisper words of wisdom, let it be, let it be....
I wake up to the sound of music our first morning in Bahia de Caraquez, Ecuador and our new home for the next 5 weeks. The Beatles have never sounded so good.
Our host Clay is total surfer dude, complete with a stoner voice and laid back attitude. His wife Margarita and him have the cutest lil babe anyones ever seen named Sol, who is buck naked 80% of the time.
The Planet Drum house holds about 7 volunteers at a time, only 4 of which are filled including us in our first week. The other volunteer, Rebecka is from Sweden and may be the chillest person I have ever met. Based on her, I now know that along with great meatballs and massages, Sweden also has great people. Sadly, Rebecka has moved on in her journey around South America and has left the Planet Drum house, but not before teaching us some tricks of the trade, and having a great farewell send off party that may or may not have involved some wonderful brownies.
Now in my second week in Bahia, I can say I am falling only more in love with this city. It's a pretty small costal town and seems like everyone knows eachother as friends yell across the street to familiar faces.
I have to start reminding myself that just because the best pork sandwhich I've ever eaten only costs 50 cents, or the gooeist of burgers is only a dollar, doesnn't mean I have to buy and eat everything the nearest bike cart is offering.
I've never eaten so good as I've eaten here- both health-wise and taste-wise. I start every morning with a bowl of strawberry yogurt with granola and a freshly picked banana bought that morning from the market around the corner. The market is always bustling with locals and there's an array of every vegetable, fruit, and fish an Ecuadorian could imagine.
After our nutritious breakfast (and a big ole cup of much needed coffee), Orlando, the Planet Drum land manager, picks us up at 8:00 and we bus it out to the location of the day.
We sharpen our machetes (what? never thought i'd say that in a sentence detailing my day..) and start clearing the brush. A lot of trees were planted months ago and are grossly overgrown since the rainy season started.
One day last week I was lucky enough to find Ecuador's most poisonous snake (El "X") at my feet, and Suz has dug up two tarantualas in one afternoon.
The days we actually plant the trees (and not just prepare for them or protect them) are my favorites. Like last week when we went to the small community within Bahia where Orlando lives, Bella Vista. About a dozen children immediately crowded our truck, eager to help. They spent the rest of the day helping us put in the trees and pat down the dirt.
The sun is intense here, especially in the past few days as the rainy season comes to an end. I've never sweated so much in my life. But the workday ends around noon and we drag our tired, sweaty asses back to the Planet Drum house where we load up on veggies and rice and beans and anything else that is so readily available and so ridiculously cheap.
Anyone who knows me, knows I usually have minimal physical activity in my days, so I find myself absolutely ravenous. hah.
My goal each day is to try and find the PorkSandwhich Man. MY GOD. Uw and mangos, so many mangos. And avocados, oh my goodness...
Anyways, after a big lunch, I start to feel more like a human being again and make my way down about 5 blocks or so to the beach.
There lies the Pacific Ocean at a perfect cooling-down temperature for my overheated body to play with.
The waves are big and salty and force laughter from me. Then its time for me to attempt and shed my 'gringo-ness'. This is two-part in that I try and get my bronze on under that sunshine, while also browsing through my Spanish phrase book.
I usually become frustrated at the phrases it offers, such as "Is there a plumber in the area?" (Really?) -and instead try deciefering the Spanish of various under-aged boys licking their lips at us. Ew.
A local archeologist/surf instructor/ beach bum has possibly befriended me- all while trying to sell me surf lessons and his home-made necklaces of course. But he's friendly and full of energy and accepts my Tarzan Spanish, so he's cool by me.
What I fill my afternoons with, what I actually "do" each day , would be hard to say. It mostly just consists of trying to live as a Bahian, and not get too fried by the sun.
One thing I know is when that sun starts to set, we get a front-row seat for the Caida del Sol (fall of the sun)and drink our well-deserved Pilseners.
I wake up to the sound of music our first morning in Bahia de Caraquez, Ecuador and our new home for the next 5 weeks. The Beatles have never sounded so good.
Our host Clay is total surfer dude, complete with a stoner voice and laid back attitude. His wife Margarita and him have the cutest lil babe anyones ever seen named Sol, who is buck naked 80% of the time.
The Planet Drum house holds about 7 volunteers at a time, only 4 of which are filled including us in our first week. The other volunteer, Rebecka is from Sweden and may be the chillest person I have ever met. Based on her, I now know that along with great meatballs and massages, Sweden also has great people. Sadly, Rebecka has moved on in her journey around South America and has left the Planet Drum house, but not before teaching us some tricks of the trade, and having a great farewell send off party that may or may not have involved some wonderful brownies.
Now in my second week in Bahia, I can say I am falling only more in love with this city. It's a pretty small costal town and seems like everyone knows eachother as friends yell across the street to familiar faces.
I have to start reminding myself that just because the best pork sandwhich I've ever eaten only costs 50 cents, or the gooeist of burgers is only a dollar, doesnn't mean I have to buy and eat everything the nearest bike cart is offering.
I've never eaten so good as I've eaten here- both health-wise and taste-wise. I start every morning with a bowl of strawberry yogurt with granola and a freshly picked banana bought that morning from the market around the corner. The market is always bustling with locals and there's an array of every vegetable, fruit, and fish an Ecuadorian could imagine.
After our nutritious breakfast (and a big ole cup of much needed coffee), Orlando, the Planet Drum land manager, picks us up at 8:00 and we bus it out to the location of the day.
We sharpen our machetes (what? never thought i'd say that in a sentence detailing my day..) and start clearing the brush. A lot of trees were planted months ago and are grossly overgrown since the rainy season started.
One day last week I was lucky enough to find Ecuador's most poisonous snake (El "X") at my feet, and Suz has dug up two tarantualas in one afternoon.
The days we actually plant the trees (and not just prepare for them or protect them) are my favorites. Like last week when we went to the small community within Bahia where Orlando lives, Bella Vista. About a dozen children immediately crowded our truck, eager to help. They spent the rest of the day helping us put in the trees and pat down the dirt.
The sun is intense here, especially in the past few days as the rainy season comes to an end. I've never sweated so much in my life. But the workday ends around noon and we drag our tired, sweaty asses back to the Planet Drum house where we load up on veggies and rice and beans and anything else that is so readily available and so ridiculously cheap.
Anyone who knows me, knows I usually have minimal physical activity in my days, so I find myself absolutely ravenous. hah.
My goal each day is to try and find the PorkSandwhich Man. MY GOD. Uw and mangos, so many mangos. And avocados, oh my goodness...
Anyways, after a big lunch, I start to feel more like a human being again and make my way down about 5 blocks or so to the beach.
There lies the Pacific Ocean at a perfect cooling-down temperature for my overheated body to play with.
The waves are big and salty and force laughter from me. Then its time for me to attempt and shed my 'gringo-ness'. This is two-part in that I try and get my bronze on under that sunshine, while also browsing through my Spanish phrase book.
I usually become frustrated at the phrases it offers, such as "Is there a plumber in the area?" (Really?) -and instead try deciefering the Spanish of various under-aged boys licking their lips at us. Ew.
A local archeologist/surf instructor/ beach bum has possibly befriended me- all while trying to sell me surf lessons and his home-made necklaces of course. But he's friendly and full of energy and accepts my Tarzan Spanish, so he's cool by me.
What I fill my afternoons with, what I actually "do" each day , would be hard to say. It mostly just consists of trying to live as a Bahian, and not get too fried by the sun.
One thing I know is when that sun starts to set, we get a front-row seat for the Caida del Sol (fall of the sun)and drink our well-deserved Pilseners.
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