I was going through all my previous posts and adjusting the tags to consolidate the categories, and it occured to me I've overlooked a few things. In the same post in which I blew up my internet and had to search half the city for parts to fix it, I mentioned that I finally found the package Craig sent me for my birthday. I never revealed what was in it, though, and that included several really awesome things. Some I may have mentioned in previous posts...
The lion, my new cuddle buddy!http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1959.jpg
The S&W titanium Special Ops knife:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1960.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1961.jpg
The ham license study book:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1962.jpg
I also haven't talked a lot about classes, which are of course what I'm technically here for. The first three weeks was a 3-credit orientation course; there were two levels, and I was in the second one with Braulio. We had two teachers, Gabi and Mariana.
After that, we had a week off, and then cycle 1 started. That's when the rest of the exchange students showed up. The official Spanish cycles are in seven levels, and I placed into level five for cycle 1. I was in with Marie this time, and we had Mariana for a teacher again, who is absolutely awesome. That cycle ended on Friday - my final grade was 42/50. On Thursday cycle 2 starts, and I hope we have Mariana again.
In total there are three cycles, but the program we're in is built to match the KSC semester; thus we got here early, and we're only doing two cycles so we can leave early as well. That's fine with me, though. I'd rather not be in school half the summer if I'm not deliberately taking summer classes. Summer is for vacation!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Mindo
Went on another two-day trip this weekend, this time to Mindo with the school. We left almost on time for once, only twenty-five minutes after scheduled departure, and arrived in Mindo two hours later. The hotel was pretty, actually made up of a bunch of separate buildings connected by paths and separated by trees. Our guide told us to put our stuff in our rooms and meet back in the center dressed in clothes that could get wet.
Our room:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1910.jpg
View from the balcony:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1911.jpg
More balcony view:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1912.jpg
Liz and I had heard a rumor that we were going white-water rafting, and we weren’t sure we wanted to go. I nearly begged off, given my unfortunate history with water, but we decided to at least put on our bathing suits and see where they were taking us. We met with the rest of the group and climbed back onto the bus. It was only a ten-minute drive to the edge of a river, where there was a small rocky beach and a truck full of black inner tubes. The tubes were roped together seven at a time into large rafts, and we were given life jackets and helmets and told how to properly sit and hold onto the rafts.
Each raft had two guides with it to steer. I didn’t bring my camera because I didn’t want to get it wet, but Morgan took some pictures that hopefully she’ll email to me, and I can post them later. The river was white water, all right, full of large rocks and “holes” and little waterfalls. The water was freezing cold, but I had had the sense to put jeans and a t-shirt over my bathing suit, so I wasn’t miserable. In fact, it was pretty damn fun. I felt like the raft was going to tip over a couple of times, but it didn’t, and when we arrived at the end point, we were all disappointed that the trip was so short.
Liz with a raft:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1946.jpg
Lunch was in the hotel restaurant; I don’t remember exactly what we ate, but everything they served us there was comida típica, which we’re all starting to get a little tired of. In the afternoon we went on a short hike to the mariposaria, or butterfly aviary. That was where I took the most pictures. The butterflies were neat (although unfortunately the only Blue Morphos we saw were dead!), and there was a huge spider that was probably the most picture-worthy of all.
Hotel dining room:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1915.jpg
Butterflies:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1917.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1919.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1920.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1921.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1923.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1924.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1925.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1927.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1929.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1930.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1931.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1932.jpg
Flowers and plants:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1926.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1935.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1937.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1938.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1939.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1940.jpg
Spider:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1934.jpg
Mariposaria:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1941.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1943.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1933.jpg
After the hike, we were looking forward to a rest, but instead they took us on the bus into the town of Mindo proper, and told us we had an hour and a half to wander. I don’t know what they expected us to do for that long, because Mindo is a tiny town, but they told us that if we wanted to, we were free to come back to the bus early and sit inside. Ali and Liz and I wandered around town for about forty-five minutes, then decided to return to the bus. When we got there, though, the driver was nowhere in sight, and the bus was closed. Ali tried to climb in through an open window, but didn’t quite make it, so we wandered off again. Liz bought a soda, and the three of us sat on a bench and waited.
Sign in the marketplace:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1944.jpg
(Translation: “We pierce ears, nosez, navels, painless and free.” Yeah, sure.)
Statue in the park:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1949.jpg
While we were parked there, Ali suddenly had another idea for how she might climb into the bus. Back we went, and this time she managed to get all the way up and into the open window. Then she opened the door and let us in, and closed it again. We sat in the dark in the back of the bus until the driver showed up again, and then we crouched down and hid. I’m not honestly sure why we hid, but we waited until more people came on the bus before sitting up again, and I don’t think the driver ever noticed that we broke into his bus. We could even have stolen it, as he had left the keys inside…but none of us had driven such a large bus before, so we contented ourselves with just breaking and entering.
Ali climbing the bus:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1955.jpg
Ali successfully in the bus!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1956.jpg
We crashed early after dinner, and the three of us decided to skip the hike the next morning. Our guide told us it was two hours to the top, a quick swim in a waterfall, and an hour back down. So we got up in time to eat breakfast with everyone else, and then spent the morning lounging by the pool, reading and sunning ourselves, and agreeing that that was a much better alternative to an exhausting hike. I read through another large chunk of the question pool in my geek book over the weekend, and I’m doing really well. I can’t wait to take my license test when I get back to the States.
The drive back to Quito after lunch was dreary, rainy, and uneventful. I was in bus coma the entire time, just sitting and listening to music and looking around, not talking to anybody and not sleeping. For quite a while, Liz and I were the only ones awake aside from the driver, which was fine with me. People started waking up again once we hit Pichinca province, and we got back to the school about six o’clock.
Spectacular storm clouds in Quito this afternoon:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1958.jpg
Our room:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1910.jpg
View from the balcony:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1911.jpg
More balcony view:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1912.jpg
Liz and I had heard a rumor that we were going white-water rafting, and we weren’t sure we wanted to go. I nearly begged off, given my unfortunate history with water, but we decided to at least put on our bathing suits and see where they were taking us. We met with the rest of the group and climbed back onto the bus. It was only a ten-minute drive to the edge of a river, where there was a small rocky beach and a truck full of black inner tubes. The tubes were roped together seven at a time into large rafts, and we were given life jackets and helmets and told how to properly sit and hold onto the rafts.
Each raft had two guides with it to steer. I didn’t bring my camera because I didn’t want to get it wet, but Morgan took some pictures that hopefully she’ll email to me, and I can post them later. The river was white water, all right, full of large rocks and “holes” and little waterfalls. The water was freezing cold, but I had had the sense to put jeans and a t-shirt over my bathing suit, so I wasn’t miserable. In fact, it was pretty damn fun. I felt like the raft was going to tip over a couple of times, but it didn’t, and when we arrived at the end point, we were all disappointed that the trip was so short.
Liz with a raft:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1946.jpg
Lunch was in the hotel restaurant; I don’t remember exactly what we ate, but everything they served us there was comida típica, which we’re all starting to get a little tired of. In the afternoon we went on a short hike to the mariposaria, or butterfly aviary. That was where I took the most pictures. The butterflies were neat (although unfortunately the only Blue Morphos we saw were dead!), and there was a huge spider that was probably the most picture-worthy of all.
Hotel dining room:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1915.jpg
Butterflies:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1917.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1919.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1920.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1921.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1923.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1924.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1925.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1927.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1929.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1930.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1931.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1932.jpg
Flowers and plants:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1926.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1935.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1937.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1938.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1939.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1940.jpg
Spider:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1934.jpg
Mariposaria:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1941.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1943.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1933.jpg
After the hike, we were looking forward to a rest, but instead they took us on the bus into the town of Mindo proper, and told us we had an hour and a half to wander. I don’t know what they expected us to do for that long, because Mindo is a tiny town, but they told us that if we wanted to, we were free to come back to the bus early and sit inside. Ali and Liz and I wandered around town for about forty-five minutes, then decided to return to the bus. When we got there, though, the driver was nowhere in sight, and the bus was closed. Ali tried to climb in through an open window, but didn’t quite make it, so we wandered off again. Liz bought a soda, and the three of us sat on a bench and waited.
Sign in the marketplace:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1944.jpg
(Translation: “We pierce ears, nosez, navels, painless and free.” Yeah, sure.)
Statue in the park:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1949.jpg
While we were parked there, Ali suddenly had another idea for how she might climb into the bus. Back we went, and this time she managed to get all the way up and into the open window. Then she opened the door and let us in, and closed it again. We sat in the dark in the back of the bus until the driver showed up again, and then we crouched down and hid. I’m not honestly sure why we hid, but we waited until more people came on the bus before sitting up again, and I don’t think the driver ever noticed that we broke into his bus. We could even have stolen it, as he had left the keys inside…but none of us had driven such a large bus before, so we contented ourselves with just breaking and entering.
Ali climbing the bus:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1955.jpg
Ali successfully in the bus!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1956.jpg
We crashed early after dinner, and the three of us decided to skip the hike the next morning. Our guide told us it was two hours to the top, a quick swim in a waterfall, and an hour back down. So we got up in time to eat breakfast with everyone else, and then spent the morning lounging by the pool, reading and sunning ourselves, and agreeing that that was a much better alternative to an exhausting hike. I read through another large chunk of the question pool in my geek book over the weekend, and I’m doing really well. I can’t wait to take my license test when I get back to the States.
The drive back to Quito after lunch was dreary, rainy, and uneventful. I was in bus coma the entire time, just sitting and listening to music and looking around, not talking to anybody and not sleeping. For quite a while, Liz and I were the only ones awake aside from the driver, which was fine with me. People started waking up again once we hit Pichinca province, and we got back to the school about six o’clock.
Spectacular storm clouds in Quito this afternoon:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1958.jpg
Friday, March 28, 2008
A Weekend Up North
Originally the three of us, Marie and Liz and I, had plans to go to Tulcán and Ipiales this past weekend. But as we were making said plans, I realized that registering my visa on Thursday would leave me without my passport for the weekend, so I couldn't leave the country...and once I told Marie how dangerous Colombia is for Americans, she didn't want to go either. So she told Eduardo that we didn't want to go, and he obediently changed plans. I was a little surprised that he didn't put up a fight, but figured that maybe he actually understood the danger of getting us kidnapped.
Classes ended Wednesday for the week of Easter holidays, and my mom went to the beach for the weekend. Thursday night, I went out with Liz, Marie, Braulio, and Jhemardín to Dragonfly. We had a couple of drinks and then couldn't decide where else to go. Eventually Braulio and Jhemardín went their own way, and us three girls headed back to my house. We hung out for several hours, goofing around and taking silly pictures and enjoying having time to ourselves in a comfortable house-space instead of a club.
Exploring the roof:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1718.jpg
Me and Marie, unable to peel ourselves off the floor for laughter:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1758.jpg
Me and Liz:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1767.jpg
We took off on Friday afternoon for Cotacachi. We found a nice hostal with a room for the four of us, dropped off our stuff, and wandered around the small artesan market in the center of town. After that we went down the road to a large party that was happening in honor of Semana Santa. There was a far more extensive artesan market, and when we reached the end of that, we found a concert being played by a rock band called Los Búfalo. Their music was an interesting mix of straight-up rock and Latino dance music. We hung out for a while and watched, then walked back toward town for dinner, which we found in a small, nice, and inexpensive restaurant.
Awesome stage setup:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1779.jpg
Me goofing around after dinner (yes, I did fall on my head when I was done; and yes, I was perfectly sober):
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1784.jpg
As I was sitting in the lobby of the hostal before going to bed, a large parade started going by outside the window. It struck me as an odd hour for a parade at 10:30 at night, but it went on for half an hour or so. The funniest part was the people walking behind the shoulder-carried floats carrying rolls of electrical cable, and following them, the people pushing gas-powered electrical generators...all to keep the lights on the floats lit.
The next morning we had breakfast in the hotel and then took off for Ibarra. Eduardo had told us that we would be staying at his friend's hacienda in Ibarra. Well, we met his friends in Ibarra...but when we had been driving an hour past the (very small) town, I began to wonder where exactly we were going. Clearly it wasn't Ibarra. As we were taking a drink-break on the side of the road and waiting for the rest of our vehicular caravan to show up, Craig called me and asked where we were. I told him I honestly had no idea, but with the few clues I had, he managed to find us on a map, and then unhappily informed me that we were under six miles from the border of Colombia.
Marie with my lion in Ibarra:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1789.jpg
When I confronted Eduardo with that information he admitted that yes, we were in fact where Craig thought we were. I relayed that back over the phone, and recieved some muttered threats against Edu for lying to us about our destination. When Marie asked him again a few minutes later to confirm where we were, he changed his mind and said Ibarra. But having already admitted once to the truth, I wasn't buying it.
As we got going again, I told Craig I would text him town names if I saw them, and then we promptly dropped out of cell reception. We drove half an hour up the side of a mountain, into the middle of nowhere, and stopped at...I had no idea what it was. None of us had a clue where we were, and I was miles out of cell reception. The countryside was beautiful, but we were confused. Eventually we figured out that we were at a bull-fighting ring, and some of the people we were with started setting out a picnic underneath a shabby shelter above the ring. At least, they claimed to be...but food did not appear for a couple of hours, only more booze.
Bored and goofy in the middle of nowhere:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1792.jpg
By three o'clock, we were still hungry, and bulls had not appeared - but Liz and I were quite happy with the rum selection. We were probably there about five hours in total. The food, when it finally showed up, was good, and helped us to sober up before we fell in the bull ring. A bunch of the guys went and got out pink and yellow capes and started playing with them, and then the natives who seemed to run the place started letting the bulls in the ring. They were young bulls, not the full-grown variety, but they were still dangerous. Edu got run straight over and somersaulted backwards head-over-heels, which panicked Marie but was rather spectacular to watch.
Torreando:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1798.jpg
Bull-fighting (video):
http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/Videos/?action=view¤t=100_1799torreando.flv
A walk in beautiful countryside:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1802.jpg
More countryside:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1806.jpg
As twilight fell, the bulls were put back in their pens and the food and drinks packed away...but the car that had been providing music had run out of battery. Another car was brought around to jump it, but once that was done, the guys managed to get BOTH cars stuck on a hill. All of us women stood and watched and laughed hysterically while the guys struggled for half an hour to get the cars up the hill. It was fully dark and damn cold by the time they figured it out. Marie, Liz, Edu, and I had seats in José's mini-SUV, which was definitely the best place to be. He's the owner of the hacienda, so he knows the area very well, and we went bombing down the side of the mountain so hard we were hitting our heads on the ceiling.
When we appeared back on the cell map, I called Craig to tell him I was still alive. The hacienda was ten or fifteen minutes from the ring, at the base of the mountain. When we got there I hung up so I could take my stuff inside. I had reception in the driveway, but when I got inside, my reception dropped out again. I was going to go outside to return his call, but my phone was out of juice, so I plugged it in and left it to charge.
The first thing I saw when I walked in the door of the ranch was something strewn across the floor under my feet. I pointed out that something had broken - it looked like pieces of a flowerpot at first - and someone pointed up. Following the gesture, I saw that it was actually a large piece of the ceiling that had fallen in. Wincing at what that might mean for the rest of the place, I followed whoever it was that knew where we were sleeping. Once again, the four of us were sharing a room, and I winced again when I walked in the door. It was musty, stale, dank, and dirty, and the two obscenely large guard dogs had followed us in and were walking on the beds. Shooing the beasts out was a problem in itself, but we eventually managed to shut them out.
Playing darts in the hacienda:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1810.jpg
Now, I'm not generally picky about the sort of places I stay in. As long as they meet some standard of decency, I'm fine - but the hacienda didn't meet any standard I could possibly name. I sat on the couch in the main room to join everyone else who was sitting around and talking and snacking, and nearly leaped up again when the springs tried to bite me in unmentionable places. It was the sort of furniture that you were afraid to sit on for fear of what might scuttle out when you did.
Dinner was the leftovers of lunch. After we ate, I wrapped myself in a blanket (my own; I refused to touch the ones already in the room) and went outside to hunt for cell. I found enough to assure Craig that I was still alive and not mad at him as he had been afraid of. When I came back in, Marie and Liz had made my bed with the blankets and pillow I brought. I appreciate the gesture, so I slept in the bed, even though I had been planning to sleep on the floor, as it seemed to be the cleaner option. I slept horribly; I didn't dare to roll over for fear I might touch some part of the bed, and I was freezing cold the entire night.
Entranceway:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1813.jpg
Guard-beast:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1814.jpg
At nine o'clock the next morning we were awoken by a loud, rude pounding on the door. We all nearly jumped out of our skins, then settled back into bed and started lazily talking and slowly waking up. A few minutes later, someone fired three shots right outside our window, and we all nearly died of a collective heart attack a second time. When that didn't get us to appear in the kitchen (by then, because were just plain pissed off), someone opened the door, let the dogs in, and closed them in with us. Our yells of protest brought no sympathy, so Liz leaped out of bed and kicked out the beasts.
"Breakfast" was sandwiches made of the equivalent of Wonderbread, obscenely chemically preserved ham, and mustard. We all agreed with horrified looks that the shower was not to be touched without a hazmat suit, then got dressed and went outside, following the sound of more gunshots. In the car the afternoon before I had been introduced to one of our "bodyguards'" guns, a Glock .40. Three of the guys on the trip were carrying, and I was excited by the idea that we might get in some target practice.
I only got in one shot, which I don't count as "practice," but I hit what I aimed at, which made me happy. Liz even got a video of said shot with my camera.
Shoot 'em up (video):
http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/Videos/?action=view¤t=100_1812glock.flv
Odd pic with spent casings:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1815.jpg
Hacienda's yard:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1816.jpg
Main room:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1820.jpg
We took off relatively early, around ten o'clock, and had lunch in Ibarra, then finished the drive back to Quito uneventfully, with the one exception of viewing a rather spectacular car wreck.
Can you find the car??? Hint, it's silver:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1831.jpg
Though it was nice to get out of the house for the weekend, the fact that I count myself lucky not to have fleas now is rather more disturbing than I was aiming for.
Classes ended Wednesday for the week of Easter holidays, and my mom went to the beach for the weekend. Thursday night, I went out with Liz, Marie, Braulio, and Jhemardín to Dragonfly. We had a couple of drinks and then couldn't decide where else to go. Eventually Braulio and Jhemardín went their own way, and us three girls headed back to my house. We hung out for several hours, goofing around and taking silly pictures and enjoying having time to ourselves in a comfortable house-space instead of a club.
Exploring the roof:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1718.jpg
Me and Marie, unable to peel ourselves off the floor for laughter:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1758.jpg
Me and Liz:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1767.jpg
We took off on Friday afternoon for Cotacachi. We found a nice hostal with a room for the four of us, dropped off our stuff, and wandered around the small artesan market in the center of town. After that we went down the road to a large party that was happening in honor of Semana Santa. There was a far more extensive artesan market, and when we reached the end of that, we found a concert being played by a rock band called Los Búfalo. Their music was an interesting mix of straight-up rock and Latino dance music. We hung out for a while and watched, then walked back toward town for dinner, which we found in a small, nice, and inexpensive restaurant.
Awesome stage setup:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1779.jpg
Me goofing around after dinner (yes, I did fall on my head when I was done; and yes, I was perfectly sober):
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1784.jpg
As I was sitting in the lobby of the hostal before going to bed, a large parade started going by outside the window. It struck me as an odd hour for a parade at 10:30 at night, but it went on for half an hour or so. The funniest part was the people walking behind the shoulder-carried floats carrying rolls of electrical cable, and following them, the people pushing gas-powered electrical generators...all to keep the lights on the floats lit.
The next morning we had breakfast in the hotel and then took off for Ibarra. Eduardo had told us that we would be staying at his friend's hacienda in Ibarra. Well, we met his friends in Ibarra...but when we had been driving an hour past the (very small) town, I began to wonder where exactly we were going. Clearly it wasn't Ibarra. As we were taking a drink-break on the side of the road and waiting for the rest of our vehicular caravan to show up, Craig called me and asked where we were. I told him I honestly had no idea, but with the few clues I had, he managed to find us on a map, and then unhappily informed me that we were under six miles from the border of Colombia.
Marie with my lion in Ibarra:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1789.jpg
When I confronted Eduardo with that information he admitted that yes, we were in fact where Craig thought we were. I relayed that back over the phone, and recieved some muttered threats against Edu for lying to us about our destination. When Marie asked him again a few minutes later to confirm where we were, he changed his mind and said Ibarra. But having already admitted once to the truth, I wasn't buying it.
As we got going again, I told Craig I would text him town names if I saw them, and then we promptly dropped out of cell reception. We drove half an hour up the side of a mountain, into the middle of nowhere, and stopped at...I had no idea what it was. None of us had a clue where we were, and I was miles out of cell reception. The countryside was beautiful, but we were confused. Eventually we figured out that we were at a bull-fighting ring, and some of the people we were with started setting out a picnic underneath a shabby shelter above the ring. At least, they claimed to be...but food did not appear for a couple of hours, only more booze.
Bored and goofy in the middle of nowhere:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1792.jpg
By three o'clock, we were still hungry, and bulls had not appeared - but Liz and I were quite happy with the rum selection. We were probably there about five hours in total. The food, when it finally showed up, was good, and helped us to sober up before we fell in the bull ring. A bunch of the guys went and got out pink and yellow capes and started playing with them, and then the natives who seemed to run the place started letting the bulls in the ring. They were young bulls, not the full-grown variety, but they were still dangerous. Edu got run straight over and somersaulted backwards head-over-heels, which panicked Marie but was rather spectacular to watch.
Torreando:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1798.jpg
Bull-fighting (video):
http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/Videos/?action=view¤t=100_1799torreando.flv
A walk in beautiful countryside:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1802.jpg
More countryside:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1806.jpg
As twilight fell, the bulls were put back in their pens and the food and drinks packed away...but the car that had been providing music had run out of battery. Another car was brought around to jump it, but once that was done, the guys managed to get BOTH cars stuck on a hill. All of us women stood and watched and laughed hysterically while the guys struggled for half an hour to get the cars up the hill. It was fully dark and damn cold by the time they figured it out. Marie, Liz, Edu, and I had seats in José's mini-SUV, which was definitely the best place to be. He's the owner of the hacienda, so he knows the area very well, and we went bombing down the side of the mountain so hard we were hitting our heads on the ceiling.
When we appeared back on the cell map, I called Craig to tell him I was still alive. The hacienda was ten or fifteen minutes from the ring, at the base of the mountain. When we got there I hung up so I could take my stuff inside. I had reception in the driveway, but when I got inside, my reception dropped out again. I was going to go outside to return his call, but my phone was out of juice, so I plugged it in and left it to charge.
The first thing I saw when I walked in the door of the ranch was something strewn across the floor under my feet. I pointed out that something had broken - it looked like pieces of a flowerpot at first - and someone pointed up. Following the gesture, I saw that it was actually a large piece of the ceiling that had fallen in. Wincing at what that might mean for the rest of the place, I followed whoever it was that knew where we were sleeping. Once again, the four of us were sharing a room, and I winced again when I walked in the door. It was musty, stale, dank, and dirty, and the two obscenely large guard dogs had followed us in and were walking on the beds. Shooing the beasts out was a problem in itself, but we eventually managed to shut them out.
Playing darts in the hacienda:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1810.jpg
Now, I'm not generally picky about the sort of places I stay in. As long as they meet some standard of decency, I'm fine - but the hacienda didn't meet any standard I could possibly name. I sat on the couch in the main room to join everyone else who was sitting around and talking and snacking, and nearly leaped up again when the springs tried to bite me in unmentionable places. It was the sort of furniture that you were afraid to sit on for fear of what might scuttle out when you did.
Dinner was the leftovers of lunch. After we ate, I wrapped myself in a blanket (my own; I refused to touch the ones already in the room) and went outside to hunt for cell. I found enough to assure Craig that I was still alive and not mad at him as he had been afraid of. When I came back in, Marie and Liz had made my bed with the blankets and pillow I brought. I appreciate the gesture, so I slept in the bed, even though I had been planning to sleep on the floor, as it seemed to be the cleaner option. I slept horribly; I didn't dare to roll over for fear I might touch some part of the bed, and I was freezing cold the entire night.
Entranceway:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1813.jpg
Guard-beast:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1814.jpg
At nine o'clock the next morning we were awoken by a loud, rude pounding on the door. We all nearly jumped out of our skins, then settled back into bed and started lazily talking and slowly waking up. A few minutes later, someone fired three shots right outside our window, and we all nearly died of a collective heart attack a second time. When that didn't get us to appear in the kitchen (by then, because were just plain pissed off), someone opened the door, let the dogs in, and closed them in with us. Our yells of protest brought no sympathy, so Liz leaped out of bed and kicked out the beasts.
"Breakfast" was sandwiches made of the equivalent of Wonderbread, obscenely chemically preserved ham, and mustard. We all agreed with horrified looks that the shower was not to be touched without a hazmat suit, then got dressed and went outside, following the sound of more gunshots. In the car the afternoon before I had been introduced to one of our "bodyguards'" guns, a Glock .40. Three of the guys on the trip were carrying, and I was excited by the idea that we might get in some target practice.
I only got in one shot, which I don't count as "practice," but I hit what I aimed at, which made me happy. Liz even got a video of said shot with my camera.
Shoot 'em up (video):
http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/Videos/?action=view¤t=100_1812glock.flv
Odd pic with spent casings:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1815.jpg
Hacienda's yard:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1816.jpg
Main room:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1820.jpg
We took off relatively early, around ten o'clock, and had lunch in Ibarra, then finished the drive back to Quito uneventfully, with the one exception of viewing a rather spectacular car wreck.
Can you find the car??? Hint, it's silver:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1831.jpg
Though it was nice to get out of the house for the weekend, the fact that I count myself lucky not to have fleas now is rather more disturbing than I was aiming for.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
A True Escapade
Had a rather interesting adventure today...but I'll start at the beginning. We got out of class early and went as a group to the Catedral in the Plaza Grande, to see the Arrastra de Caudas. That's a ceremony performed once a year during Semana Santa (Easter week), and it literally means sweeping of the capes. I unfortunately lack the Catholic terminology required to describe it properly, but I can post a picture...and that wasn't the interesting part of the day anyway.
Plaza Grande:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1668.jpg
Presidential Palace:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1669.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1670.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1671.jpg
Catedral:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1673.jpg
Arrastra de Caudas:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1675.jpg
The place was so crowded, and people were getting so rude with the pushing and shoving, that Marie and I actually left well before the ceremony was over because we wanted to be able to breathe. We walked a few blocks and then caught a bus for the U. Católica - or at least that's what the big sign propped in the windshield said. Being completely unfamiliar with the area around the Plaza, it was far too late by the time we figured out that we weren't going where we wanted to go. The next thing we knew, the bus emptied out, the driver stopped and told us to get out...and we were stranded in the middle of the shoddiest, dirtiest, sketchiest ghetto, hellaway out the south end of the city and halfway up a mountain.
Get off the bus! Yes, right here:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1683.jpg
Damn bus said U. Católica, see for yourself:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1686.jpg
Yup, we were in the slums all right:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1688.jpg
Having no other option, we got off the bus. We looked at each other, agreed that we had won the Retard Award for the day, and laughed hysterically because there was nothing else we could do. Then we started walking, our only clue in direction being "downhill." The place was filthy and smelly and falling apart, to the point where Marie commented on one of the houses with, "People actually LIVE here?" Not a minute down the road we came across a particularly smelly trash heap. Seeing that it looked unusual, I took a closer look, and found that it contained a recently-dead and rather putrid dog.
Oh Rover, we shall miss you before you stank:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1687.jpg
We were way up in the hills!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1689.jpg
We walked maybe ten minutes, every now and then looking around and going, "How did we get here? What are we doing? We are so lost!" Eventually we found a bus that was actually going downhill, and labeled Naciones Unidas. We hopped on, and I pulled out my map and tried to find where we were. As it turned out, I wasn't able to, because we were so far out of our way that we were actually off the map to the south. Now let me point out that I've been warned not even to go as far south as La Marín...and it took us a good twenty or so minutes on the bus to get north into that neighborhood. Somehow our adventure got named "Our trip to bumfuck-dead-dog-landia." But we got some interesting pictures.
Welcome to the middle of nowhere:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1691.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1693.jpg
The fanciest thing in town:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1692.jpg
Look closely at the bottom of the sign where it should say "Hewlett Packard":
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1695.jpg
Plaza Grande:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1668.jpg
Presidential Palace:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1669.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1670.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1671.jpg
Catedral:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1673.jpg
Arrastra de Caudas:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1675.jpg
The place was so crowded, and people were getting so rude with the pushing and shoving, that Marie and I actually left well before the ceremony was over because we wanted to be able to breathe. We walked a few blocks and then caught a bus for the U. Católica - or at least that's what the big sign propped in the windshield said. Being completely unfamiliar with the area around the Plaza, it was far too late by the time we figured out that we weren't going where we wanted to go. The next thing we knew, the bus emptied out, the driver stopped and told us to get out...and we were stranded in the middle of the shoddiest, dirtiest, sketchiest ghetto, hellaway out the south end of the city and halfway up a mountain.
Get off the bus! Yes, right here:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1683.jpg
Damn bus said U. Católica, see for yourself:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1686.jpg
Yup, we were in the slums all right:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1688.jpg
Having no other option, we got off the bus. We looked at each other, agreed that we had won the Retard Award for the day, and laughed hysterically because there was nothing else we could do. Then we started walking, our only clue in direction being "downhill." The place was filthy and smelly and falling apart, to the point where Marie commented on one of the houses with, "People actually LIVE here?" Not a minute down the road we came across a particularly smelly trash heap. Seeing that it looked unusual, I took a closer look, and found that it contained a recently-dead and rather putrid dog.
Oh Rover, we shall miss you before you stank:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1687.jpg
We were way up in the hills!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1689.jpg
We walked maybe ten minutes, every now and then looking around and going, "How did we get here? What are we doing? We are so lost!" Eventually we found a bus that was actually going downhill, and labeled Naciones Unidas. We hopped on, and I pulled out my map and tried to find where we were. As it turned out, I wasn't able to, because we were so far out of our way that we were actually off the map to the south. Now let me point out that I've been warned not even to go as far south as La Marín...and it took us a good twenty or so minutes on the bus to get north into that neighborhood. Somehow our adventure got named "Our trip to bumfuck-dead-dog-landia." But we got some interesting pictures.
Welcome to the middle of nowhere:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1691.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1693.jpg
The fanciest thing in town:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1692.jpg
Look closely at the bottom of the sign where it should say "Hewlett Packard":
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1695.jpg
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
El Certificado
Frustrated as I am by the bureaucracy here, I know I have kept you all well up-to-date on my bitching about registering my visa. No, that still has not been done - you might remember that I was informed last time that a bank reciept was not significant proof of deposit (!) and that I needed to get an actual certificate from an office that was not where I was at the time.
Yesterday I went on the hunt for Dirección de Migración. I took a bus from Los Shyris, making a brilliant stumbling entrance to said vehicle. I called Marie from El Jardín, since she had been to the office before, and she told me what street it was on. I found it without trouble and stood in line at Información. I told the woman there what I needed, and she gave me a number and told me I would need two copies of my passport and one of my reciept.
I walked quite a ways down the street and then back again, looking for a copy shop, before I realized that it was right next door to the office. Feeling a little silly, I had them make two copies of my passport and one of my reciept, then returned to Migración and sat down to wait. It was about twenty or twenty-five minutes before my number finally came up on the screen. I handed the guy at the window my stack of papers, told him what I needed, and was questioned as to why I had only one copy of the reciept. Mildly annoyed, I told him that the woman at Information told me I only needed one, and I was told to go make another.
I ran next door, made another copy, and came back. He sorted my papers and started putting something in the computer, then told me that we couldn't continue because someone had spelled my name wrong. He sent me upstairs to the Centro de Computo, where I waited ten minutes or so for my turn. Once I told the guy there what I needed, he told me he needed a copy of my passport. Now seriously annoyed, I ran next door for the third time and had them copy my passport again, recieving odd looks from the women working there.
I returned to the Centro de Computo, discovered it was empty, and waited some more until the guy showed up again and helped two more people. It only took him a minute or so to fix the error, and then I went back downstairs and stood in line for the original window. Fifteen minutes after that I finally had my certificate in my hand...all that hassle for one piece of paper, and that when I already had an official bank reciept.
Yesterday I went on the hunt for Dirección de Migración. I took a bus from Los Shyris, making a brilliant stumbling entrance to said vehicle. I called Marie from El Jardín, since she had been to the office before, and she told me what street it was on. I found it without trouble and stood in line at Información. I told the woman there what I needed, and she gave me a number and told me I would need two copies of my passport and one of my reciept.
I walked quite a ways down the street and then back again, looking for a copy shop, before I realized that it was right next door to the office. Feeling a little silly, I had them make two copies of my passport and one of my reciept, then returned to Migración and sat down to wait. It was about twenty or twenty-five minutes before my number finally came up on the screen. I handed the guy at the window my stack of papers, told him what I needed, and was questioned as to why I had only one copy of the reciept. Mildly annoyed, I told him that the woman at Information told me I only needed one, and I was told to go make another.
I ran next door, made another copy, and came back. He sorted my papers and started putting something in the computer, then told me that we couldn't continue because someone had spelled my name wrong. He sent me upstairs to the Centro de Computo, where I waited ten minutes or so for my turn. Once I told the guy there what I needed, he told me he needed a copy of my passport. Now seriously annoyed, I ran next door for the third time and had them copy my passport again, recieving odd looks from the women working there.
I returned to the Centro de Computo, discovered it was empty, and waited some more until the guy showed up again and helped two more people. It only took him a minute or so to fix the error, and then I went back downstairs and stood in line for the original window. Fifteen minutes after that I finally had my certificate in my hand...all that hassle for one piece of paper, and that when I already had an official bank reciept.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Karaoke Night
To start, a picture of the new antenna on my mom’s roof:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1594.jpg
Last night we went out to a karaoke bar. We ended up being a fair-sized group: me and Liz, Braulio and Jhemardín, Marie and Eduardo, and Edu’s friend Paúl. The place was dark and dank and smoky, and the daquiri I had was disgusting, but I had fun anyway. While we were there, we met Frankie, who is Ecuadorian but lives in the US, in New York with his girlfriend. He’s here right now on vacation, and is working in the bar, which I believe belongs to his brother. He sat down with us for a while and talked – he speaks both Spanish and English fluently, and is in fact an English teacher (I didn’t catch where). He was a complete crackup.
Me cleverly getting my daquiri up my nose:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1612.jpg
Braulio, surprised to have his photo taken:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1615.jpg
Liz, also caught by surprise:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1616.jpg
No idea what’s going on here – but it’s me and Marie, do I ever know?
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1623.jpg
Me with Frankie:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1625.jpg
Me and Marie again:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1626.jpg
Liz, proud of herself for finally having managed to light a lighter:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1627.jpg
At around one, Marie decided to leave because she had a stomachache. Liz left because Marie was leaving, and I left because the two of them were. Liz took a cab, and I was going to walk because it was only a couple of blocks to my house…but then Frankie offered to take Marie home to Bellavista on his motorbike. I got insanely excited at the sight of the bike, so Frankie agreed to take me too.
Marie, me, and Frankie on Frankie’s bike:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1628.jpg
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1594.jpg
Last night we went out to a karaoke bar. We ended up being a fair-sized group: me and Liz, Braulio and Jhemardín, Marie and Eduardo, and Edu’s friend Paúl. The place was dark and dank and smoky, and the daquiri I had was disgusting, but I had fun anyway. While we were there, we met Frankie, who is Ecuadorian but lives in the US, in New York with his girlfriend. He’s here right now on vacation, and is working in the bar, which I believe belongs to his brother. He sat down with us for a while and talked – he speaks both Spanish and English fluently, and is in fact an English teacher (I didn’t catch where). He was a complete crackup.
Me cleverly getting my daquiri up my nose:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1612.jpg
Braulio, surprised to have his photo taken:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1615.jpg
Liz, also caught by surprise:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1616.jpg
No idea what’s going on here – but it’s me and Marie, do I ever know?
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1623.jpg
Me with Frankie:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1625.jpg
Me and Marie again:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1626.jpg
Liz, proud of herself for finally having managed to light a lighter:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1627.jpg
At around one, Marie decided to leave because she had a stomachache. Liz left because Marie was leaving, and I left because the two of them were. Liz took a cab, and I was going to walk because it was only a couple of blocks to my house…but then Frankie offered to take Marie home to Bellavista on his motorbike. I got insanely excited at the sight of the bike, so Frankie agreed to take me too.
Marie, me, and Frankie on Frankie’s bike:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1628.jpg
Otavalo
I mentioned in my last entry that I had spent a weekend in Otavalo. It was a trip arranged by the school, and most of the exchange students went. We met at the school at 8am on Saturday morning, since María Ísabel had told us to be punctual so we could leave on time. Of course, we sat on the unmoving bus for forty-five minutes before we actually went anywhere. So much for “en punto;” this is Ecuadorian time.
The drive was a couple of hours, and the four of us from KSC took up the far back seat of the bus and spent the ride goofing off and taking stupid pictures.
Braulio unable to take a nap because we’re taking pictures of said nap:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1513.jpg
Rockin’ out to Manson, Juanes, and a punk band whose name I’ve forgotten, respectively:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1515.jpg
The bus took us straight to the marketplace, where we spent a couple of hours wandering around.
Fruit stand:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1516.jpg
Hand-painted plates:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1518.jpg
More fruit:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1519.jpg
Dead chickens:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1520.jpg
Beads:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1523.jpg
Gourds:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1524.jpg
Map of Otavalo painted on a wall:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1527.jpg
Spices:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1528.jpg
And more spices:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1529.jpg
Native kids sing in Kichwa on the bus so they can get a ride (sorry it’s out of focus, my camera was acting up):
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1531.jpg
Liz and I bought matching jackets in the market:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1532.jpg
Marie and Braulio at Cabañas del Lago, the hostería we stayed in:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1533.jpg
The hostería’s dog:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1535.jpg
Plotting to take over the world from my cabaña:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1541.jpg
Marie having a laughing fit after I trapped her in the wardrobe:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1545.jpg
Falling over after struggling to drag the tire swing up the set of steps:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1552.jpg
Having fun flying!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1556.jpg
Me and Marie preparing to swing together:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1557.jpg
Marie and Luis trying to put together the ping-pong table they broke:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1561.jpg
The night that we stayed at Cabañas, they took us out on a boat on the lake. There was a Mariachi band, and they lent us ponchos for warmth and served canelaso, which is a cinnamon-flavored alcohol, served warm in bowls.
Marie, me, Braulio, and Liz on the boat:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1563.jpg
Marie and me on the boat:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1564.jpg
FIRE!!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1565.jpg
Dork from Idaho that we have nicknamed Frosted Tips, for obvious reasons:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1567.jpg
María Ísabel’s hair “on fire:”
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1569.jpg
Mariachi:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1570.jpg
Canelaso:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1571.jpg
On Sunday, we went to a native hut about half an hour from Cabañas, where they gave us a talk on native culture, and played music and danced.
Native music:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1573.jpg
Dance:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1578.jpg
Cool countryside:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1581.jpg
After the music and dance, we took a hike to a waterfall, Cascada de Peguche. No one had actually thought to warn us that we’d be hiking anywhere, so we were all carrying extra jackets and purses and stuff, and Liz wasn’t even wearing sneakers. The hike was hellish, but the waterfall was at least pretty.
Cascada de Peguche:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1584.jpg
Preparing for a “heart-cleansing” ceremony:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1586.jpg
Part of the trail we hiked up, from another part of the trail:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1587.jpg
The drive was a couple of hours, and the four of us from KSC took up the far back seat of the bus and spent the ride goofing off and taking stupid pictures.
Braulio unable to take a nap because we’re taking pictures of said nap:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1513.jpg
Rockin’ out to Manson, Juanes, and a punk band whose name I’ve forgotten, respectively:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1515.jpg
The bus took us straight to the marketplace, where we spent a couple of hours wandering around.
Fruit stand:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1516.jpg
Hand-painted plates:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1518.jpg
More fruit:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1519.jpg
Dead chickens:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1520.jpg
Beads:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1523.jpg
Gourds:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1524.jpg
Map of Otavalo painted on a wall:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1527.jpg
Spices:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1528.jpg
And more spices:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1529.jpg
Native kids sing in Kichwa on the bus so they can get a ride (sorry it’s out of focus, my camera was acting up):
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1531.jpg
Liz and I bought matching jackets in the market:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1532.jpg
Marie and Braulio at Cabañas del Lago, the hostería we stayed in:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1533.jpg
The hostería’s dog:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1535.jpg
Plotting to take over the world from my cabaña:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1541.jpg
Marie having a laughing fit after I trapped her in the wardrobe:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1545.jpg
Falling over after struggling to drag the tire swing up the set of steps:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1552.jpg
Having fun flying!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1556.jpg
Me and Marie preparing to swing together:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1557.jpg
Marie and Luis trying to put together the ping-pong table they broke:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1561.jpg
The night that we stayed at Cabañas, they took us out on a boat on the lake. There was a Mariachi band, and they lent us ponchos for warmth and served canelaso, which is a cinnamon-flavored alcohol, served warm in bowls.
Marie, me, Braulio, and Liz on the boat:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1563.jpg
Marie and me on the boat:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1564.jpg
FIRE!!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1565.jpg
Dork from Idaho that we have nicknamed Frosted Tips, for obvious reasons:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1567.jpg
María Ísabel’s hair “on fire:”
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1569.jpg
Mariachi:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1570.jpg
Canelaso:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1571.jpg
On Sunday, we went to a native hut about half an hour from Cabañas, where they gave us a talk on native culture, and played music and danced.
Native music:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1573.jpg
Dance:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1578.jpg
Cool countryside:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1581.jpg
After the music and dance, we took a hike to a waterfall, Cascada de Peguche. No one had actually thought to warn us that we’d be hiking anywhere, so we were all carrying extra jackets and purses and stuff, and Liz wasn’t even wearing sneakers. The hike was hellish, but the waterfall was at least pretty.
Cascada de Peguche:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1584.jpg
Preparing for a “heart-cleansing” ceremony:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1586.jpg
Part of the trail we hiked up, from another part of the trail:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1587.jpg
The Frustration of Getting Things Done in Quito
I know it’s been quite a while since I’ve updated – that’s mostly because I’ve been struggling with the internet here. You heard about the initial troubles already with replacing the USB cable, but there was more.
I had to rip apart the box to replace the cable, and I broke my mom’s scissors in the process because I cleverly forgot that I was carrying a knife in my belt. I had a great time ripping apart all the geeky shit in the box and figuring out exactly how it worked, and when I was done, it actually did work. So I had a great internet connection in my room for about four days, two of which I was in Otavalo (more on that later).
Craig had told me before he left that when it was sunny out again, I should take apart all the outdoor cable connections, dry them out, and tape them up with electrical tape. It was a while before I had decent weather to do so, but I finally managed to find a little time when it wasn’t pouring rain, and I dutifully took them all apart, cleaned them, and taped them up. When I had it all back together again, it no longer worked.
I spent the afternoon at Marie’s house working on a school project, not worried about my internet because Craig told me that it probably just needed to be rebooted. When I got home, though, and followed his advice, it still didn’t work. After taking the lid off the box again and doing some basic diagnostics, it turned out that I had, in a moment of complete stupidity, failed to unplug the amplifier before unplugging the coax and blown the damn thing apart.
I was seriously pissed off at myself, and probably an absolute bear to talk to that night (sorry Craig!). But he told me that if I got a certain connector part, I could probably juryrig the system back into some form of working.
I printed pictures of the parts that I needed, because I didn’t know how to say the words properly in Spanish. I started by going to Radio Trunking, a place Craig had noticed on Orellana that he figured would sell parts. They were more of an office, as it turned out, and they refused to sell me parts, but told me to go to Electrónica Nacional. It was another two days before I got there, because I had a school project to complete with Marie. When I did finally go, it was actually the two of us that went, because she agreed to come do my errands with me if I would cut her hair that afternoon.
We found Electrónica Nacional without problems, and I showed them my piece of paper. The guy behind the counter looked at the paper, dug around in the back of the shop, called someone, and finally came back. He wrote an address on the paper and told me to go there for my parts. This is life in Quito – nothing is ever where someone tells you it will be. We grabbed a taxi and showed the driver the address, and after consulting his map, he told us it was about twenty-five minutes north and asked if we really wanted to go that far. I said sure, why not, as I needed to get there at some point.
He leaned out the window as we were stopped at a light and asked another taxi driver if he knew the location of the street we were looking for. He didn’t, so at the next corner, our driver flagged a third driver and asked the same question. This guy told us that it was not north at all, but in fact west around Parque La Carolina. That was a whole lot closer, and I was glad the driver hadn’t taken us all the way to wherever he thought it was.
We found Cablecom, but it was closed for lunch from 1:00 to 2:30, so we went in search of lunch ourselves. Across the street was a little place serving almuerzos ejecutivos, and the two of us managed to get a full lunch for $2 apiece. Then we sat outside Cablecom and waited for them to open. When they did eventually do so, I managed to get one of the parts but not the other; but Craig had told me that I technically only needed one, so I left it at that and didn’t bother to chase down the other.
After that expedition, it was time to track down the package that Craig sent me before my birthday. The day before, I had gone to the post office with the tracking number to ask about it, and they told me I had to go to customs to get it, and I had to have two photocopies of my passport.
I had a post-it note with the package tracking number and the address of the customs office, and two copies of my passport. We took a taxi to the office and stood in a long line for the door labeled Aduanas. After a few minutes Marie pointed out that everyone there was holding what looked like a reciept, and it seemed you needed one to get in. When the line at the main window cleared out, I went and asked how to find my lost box. The guy behind the counter put the tracking number into the computer, and then told me, “This package was shipped express, so it’s not here. You have to go here,” and wrote down another address on my post-it note.
We took taxi number three to yet another post office in another part of town, where I went in and hopefully presented my note to the first employee I found. He glanced at it, then told me to follow him and walked down the block to another section of the post office, where apparently they handle parcels. I once again presented my now-rather-abused yellow note.
Marie’s eventual question was the most succint thing I heard all day: “Why is this not computerized?” Apparently every express package that comes to Quito is hand-written in a large notebook, or has a hand-written slip of paper as a reference to it. The guy looked through several stacks of paper and most of a notebook, and couldn’t find my tracking number anywhere. Eventually he asked the woman next to him for help, and the two of them went in the back and were gone for ten minutes or so. I was starting to get worried that my package wasn’t anywhere when he suddenly reappeared with a large and abused-looking box in his hands.
I thought for a moment he was going to try to charge me to pick it up, but he just took one of the copies of my passport, had me sign my name and passport number in a couple of different places, and then handed it over.
By that time it was four o’clock; finding one connector and one package had taken us four hours and three taxis so far. We took a fourth taxi back to Marie’s house, where I managed to set aside the box long enough to cut her hair.
Goofing around during the haircut:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1603.jpg
The result:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1607.jpg
I also took an updated picture of the dead rat, which is STILL where it was when I first saw it:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1597.jpg
I had to rip apart the box to replace the cable, and I broke my mom’s scissors in the process because I cleverly forgot that I was carrying a knife in my belt. I had a great time ripping apart all the geeky shit in the box and figuring out exactly how it worked, and when I was done, it actually did work. So I had a great internet connection in my room for about four days, two of which I was in Otavalo (more on that later).
Craig had told me before he left that when it was sunny out again, I should take apart all the outdoor cable connections, dry them out, and tape them up with electrical tape. It was a while before I had decent weather to do so, but I finally managed to find a little time when it wasn’t pouring rain, and I dutifully took them all apart, cleaned them, and taped them up. When I had it all back together again, it no longer worked.
I spent the afternoon at Marie’s house working on a school project, not worried about my internet because Craig told me that it probably just needed to be rebooted. When I got home, though, and followed his advice, it still didn’t work. After taking the lid off the box again and doing some basic diagnostics, it turned out that I had, in a moment of complete stupidity, failed to unplug the amplifier before unplugging the coax and blown the damn thing apart.
I was seriously pissed off at myself, and probably an absolute bear to talk to that night (sorry Craig!). But he told me that if I got a certain connector part, I could probably juryrig the system back into some form of working.
I printed pictures of the parts that I needed, because I didn’t know how to say the words properly in Spanish. I started by going to Radio Trunking, a place Craig had noticed on Orellana that he figured would sell parts. They were more of an office, as it turned out, and they refused to sell me parts, but told me to go to Electrónica Nacional. It was another two days before I got there, because I had a school project to complete with Marie. When I did finally go, it was actually the two of us that went, because she agreed to come do my errands with me if I would cut her hair that afternoon.
We found Electrónica Nacional without problems, and I showed them my piece of paper. The guy behind the counter looked at the paper, dug around in the back of the shop, called someone, and finally came back. He wrote an address on the paper and told me to go there for my parts. This is life in Quito – nothing is ever where someone tells you it will be. We grabbed a taxi and showed the driver the address, and after consulting his map, he told us it was about twenty-five minutes north and asked if we really wanted to go that far. I said sure, why not, as I needed to get there at some point.
He leaned out the window as we were stopped at a light and asked another taxi driver if he knew the location of the street we were looking for. He didn’t, so at the next corner, our driver flagged a third driver and asked the same question. This guy told us that it was not north at all, but in fact west around Parque La Carolina. That was a whole lot closer, and I was glad the driver hadn’t taken us all the way to wherever he thought it was.
We found Cablecom, but it was closed for lunch from 1:00 to 2:30, so we went in search of lunch ourselves. Across the street was a little place serving almuerzos ejecutivos, and the two of us managed to get a full lunch for $2 apiece. Then we sat outside Cablecom and waited for them to open. When they did eventually do so, I managed to get one of the parts but not the other; but Craig had told me that I technically only needed one, so I left it at that and didn’t bother to chase down the other.
After that expedition, it was time to track down the package that Craig sent me before my birthday. The day before, I had gone to the post office with the tracking number to ask about it, and they told me I had to go to customs to get it, and I had to have two photocopies of my passport.
I had a post-it note with the package tracking number and the address of the customs office, and two copies of my passport. We took a taxi to the office and stood in a long line for the door labeled Aduanas. After a few minutes Marie pointed out that everyone there was holding what looked like a reciept, and it seemed you needed one to get in. When the line at the main window cleared out, I went and asked how to find my lost box. The guy behind the counter put the tracking number into the computer, and then told me, “This package was shipped express, so it’s not here. You have to go here,” and wrote down another address on my post-it note.
We took taxi number three to yet another post office in another part of town, where I went in and hopefully presented my note to the first employee I found. He glanced at it, then told me to follow him and walked down the block to another section of the post office, where apparently they handle parcels. I once again presented my now-rather-abused yellow note.
Marie’s eventual question was the most succint thing I heard all day: “Why is this not computerized?” Apparently every express package that comes to Quito is hand-written in a large notebook, or has a hand-written slip of paper as a reference to it. The guy looked through several stacks of paper and most of a notebook, and couldn’t find my tracking number anywhere. Eventually he asked the woman next to him for help, and the two of them went in the back and were gone for ten minutes or so. I was starting to get worried that my package wasn’t anywhere when he suddenly reappeared with a large and abused-looking box in his hands.
I thought for a moment he was going to try to charge me to pick it up, but he just took one of the copies of my passport, had me sign my name and passport number in a couple of different places, and then handed it over.
By that time it was four o’clock; finding one connector and one package had taken us four hours and three taxis so far. We took a fourth taxi back to Marie’s house, where I managed to set aside the box long enough to cut her hair.
Goofing around during the haircut:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1603.jpg
The result:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1607.jpg
I also took an updated picture of the dead rat, which is STILL where it was when I first saw it:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1597.jpg
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Geek-Out Weekend
It's raining once again in Quito...what a friggin' surprise! I blame Craig - it stopped raining as soon as he got here, and started again right after he left. Then again, I was incredibly grateful for the nice weather while he was here!
Tuesday night I started feeling sick again, and when I woke up Wednesday morning, I was so sick I could barely get out of bed. I skipped class and slept the entire day in the hope of getting better, but it didn't really work.
I showed up at the airport on Thursday night at 7:30, as his flight was due to arrive at 7:20. Looking at the flight boards, though, his was delayed until 9pm. So I hung around, did some homework, listened to some music, and finally went upstairs to the watching area at 9. I watched carefully as people poured down the stairs beneath the window toward customs; Craig was on the second flightful, and I waved manically until he looked up and noticed me. He nodded at the guy next to him, then pointed at me and waved. I had no idea who the guy was, but I waved to him anyway. I was so excited that I actually managed to forget about being sick for a few minutes.
After an enthusiastic reunion in which I was afraid I might hit the ceiling for bouncing so much, the two of us took a taxi, found his hotel, and then walked into the Mariscal for dinner. We found a random restaurant with good steak, and Craig called his mom to tell her he was here safely, and I said hello to her as well.
Friday I had class, although Mariana let me out early because I was feeling so incredibly crappy. Craig and I had lunch at Café Amazonas, then wandered around the Mariscal. We crashed at the hotel for a nap, and then went to my house to meet my mom in time to go to the exchance student cocktail at the school. There were bocaditos (the easier-to-spell word for h'ordeuvres) and dancing. After the party, we had dinner at my house, which I had barely had a chance to eat because I was so busy translating. As mom said to Craig, "You speak little no Spanish, I speak little no English."
Dead rat on the Ecovia line, Friday afternoon:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1478.jpg
Craig and me at the student cocktail:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1480.jpg
Saturday we were considering going up Pichincha, but I decided that that was probably a bad idea, as I was still struggling to breathe at 9,000 ft, and 15,000 ft couldn't possibly improve things. So instead we went to La Mitad del Mundo. I managed to get us there by a rather roundabout bus route that took a hell of a long time, but it was only 75 cents. We did the touristy thing, took pictures, got souvenirs for people back home, and then went to the REAL equator, which is next door. This was my third time at the popular equator, but when I went the first time, they didn't know it wasn't the real one, and the second time, we didn't know the real one was so close by. So it was my first trip to the real middle of the world, at the Inti Ñan museum.
Me and Craig at the popular Mitad del Mundo:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1485.jpg
There they do a series of experiments to "prove" that you're really on the equator. Yes, water really does swirl the other way in the south, and drops straight down on the equator. It's easier to balance an egg on the head of a nail there, because there's less gravity; and you also lose 30% of your physical resistance when you're standing right on the line. There is an ongoing challenge to balance the egg like the guide does. Craig was the only person in the group who managed to do it, and he has the certificate to show for it.
Water swirling clockwise:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1486.jpg
An egg balanced on a nail:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1489.jpg
Sunday we did finally go up the Telefériqo to the top of Pichinca, at 4,100 meters. The west side was entirely clouded in, so we couldn't see Guagua Pichincha, but the city was visible, and impressive. It's impossible to understand how truly huge Quito is until you see it from an airplane or the mountain.
View from the Telefériqo:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1495.jpg
Geeky stuff on Pichincha!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1501.jpg
Craig with geeky stuff:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1503.jpg
Quito from Pichincha:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1500.jpg
That night we went wandering through the Mariscal, and tripped across something to do when a man ran by us at full tilt, chased by a shouting security guard. We looked at each other, shrugged, and followed them at a distance to see what was going on. We caught them up around the opposite corner of the block, where the policeman had the guy up against a wall and was in the process of arresting him. A small crowd had gathered to watch, including a girl who was unmistakably a hooker.
The guy who was being arrested started begging her for help, saying he didn't do anything. Then another guy showed up - we guessed the guy who was the victim of whatever crime had been committed - got out a tire iron, and started "helping" the policeman. After reluctantly following the instruction to put the tire iron away, he got out a camera to take the theif's picture. When the guy wouldn't cooperate, he got a couple of slaps in the face, and then finally handcuffs and a ride in a police truck.
Meanwhile, another guy had made himself known and was shouting insults at the policeman, who turned and began to shout them back. When the guy wouldn't shut up, he got a dose of pepper spray, which did the job quite efficiently. After that excitement was over, we wandered into a casino and spent some time playing video poker, then went to Papayanet for coffee.
Monday morning I made yet another attempt at registering my visa, and failed yet again due to lack of a certain certificate. Apparently the receipt from the bank stating that I had deposited the fee was not good enough. Frigging bureaucracy.
After that, we stopped in a hardware store to get parts to put together Craig's wireless invention. That was an adventure in itself, as the full extent of my hardware-related vocabulary consists of the word for "pipe." Fortunately we did actually need a pipe, but we also needed some other equipment that involved a lot of pointing and saying "eso, eso." (That one, that one!) We walked back to my house weilding an eight-foot length of steel pipe and a few other, less dangerous items. We leaned the pipe against the roof in the garden, then I went upstairs, climbed out on the roof, and retrieved it that way.
By the time mom returned home, we had put together the dish, mounted it on the pipe, secured said pipe to the balcony railing, and gotten me all the way to the top roof to screw together the coax. We took a break for lunch with mom, where I once again spent most of my eating time translating, and then went back to work. The hardware was the easy part, it turned out - once we got to actually installing things in my computer, it all went wrong. After a couple of hours of trying to de-virus my hard drive, we gave up and reinstalled Windows. That didn't fix the problem, though, and at dinnertime we finally gave up and went off in search of food.
After dinner, we holed up in Papayanet with a geekstick and downloaded drivers for my computer. We didn't go back to the project that night, as Craig had to leave at 6am the next morning. I took him to the airport and was back before I'm usually out of bed. I dragged myself through class and spent the rest of the afternoon and night sleeping.
Wednesday, however, I was back on the job, determined to get the wireless project working. After installing enough drivers to make the computer functional, I went on a hunt for a new USB cable, having the suspicion that the current one had been damanged. I finally found one in the local Radio Shack. It was horrifyingly expensive for a printer cable, so I bought the 1-meter length, figuring that if it actually worked I could buy extenders later.
Upon arrival home, I dumped my stuff and went immediately to work, excited about actually having a geek project to do. I took the lid off the electronics box, but the new cable's connector was a tiny bit longer than the old, so to fit it in I had to take the whole box apart. To take the box apart, I had to take it off the wall...
I asked mom for scissors, cleverly forgetting that I was wearing a very sharp, very sturdy knife. I didn't remember that fact until I had snapped the scissors and left the box intact on the wall. I ended up taking the entire thing apart, all the way down to the wireless chip and back again. Here was the key, though: the new cable worked. As soon as I plugged it in, the device was recognized the way it should have been, so I took the knife and made the hole in the box bigger. Then I spent several minutes struggling to put it all back together, since the new cable forced me to rearrange the big pieces.
Eventually I got it together and tied back onto the window grating, just as it began to rain. Then I went out and bought new scissors for mom, and a 2-meter cable extension. That meant that my computer had to sit right by the door, and me on the floor, but after some futzing with the antenna, I actually got internet.
Today I went on a hunt for cable extenders, and after buying a 1-meter jobber at a place in the mall, I finally found a properly geeky store that sold me a 15-footer. I could have hung around that place for hours; I miss the shop. So now not only do I have internet, but the cables wrap neatly out of the way and still reach both my desk and my bed. Thank you, Craig!
Random graffiti in the Mariscal:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1505.jpg
Tuesday night I started feeling sick again, and when I woke up Wednesday morning, I was so sick I could barely get out of bed. I skipped class and slept the entire day in the hope of getting better, but it didn't really work.
I showed up at the airport on Thursday night at 7:30, as his flight was due to arrive at 7:20. Looking at the flight boards, though, his was delayed until 9pm. So I hung around, did some homework, listened to some music, and finally went upstairs to the watching area at 9. I watched carefully as people poured down the stairs beneath the window toward customs; Craig was on the second flightful, and I waved manically until he looked up and noticed me. He nodded at the guy next to him, then pointed at me and waved. I had no idea who the guy was, but I waved to him anyway. I was so excited that I actually managed to forget about being sick for a few minutes.
After an enthusiastic reunion in which I was afraid I might hit the ceiling for bouncing so much, the two of us took a taxi, found his hotel, and then walked into the Mariscal for dinner. We found a random restaurant with good steak, and Craig called his mom to tell her he was here safely, and I said hello to her as well.
Friday I had class, although Mariana let me out early because I was feeling so incredibly crappy. Craig and I had lunch at Café Amazonas, then wandered around the Mariscal. We crashed at the hotel for a nap, and then went to my house to meet my mom in time to go to the exchance student cocktail at the school. There were bocaditos (the easier-to-spell word for h'ordeuvres) and dancing. After the party, we had dinner at my house, which I had barely had a chance to eat because I was so busy translating. As mom said to Craig, "You speak little no Spanish, I speak little no English."
Dead rat on the Ecovia line, Friday afternoon:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1478.jpg
Craig and me at the student cocktail:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1480.jpg
Saturday we were considering going up Pichincha, but I decided that that was probably a bad idea, as I was still struggling to breathe at 9,000 ft, and 15,000 ft couldn't possibly improve things. So instead we went to La Mitad del Mundo. I managed to get us there by a rather roundabout bus route that took a hell of a long time, but it was only 75 cents. We did the touristy thing, took pictures, got souvenirs for people back home, and then went to the REAL equator, which is next door. This was my third time at the popular equator, but when I went the first time, they didn't know it wasn't the real one, and the second time, we didn't know the real one was so close by. So it was my first trip to the real middle of the world, at the Inti Ñan museum.
Me and Craig at the popular Mitad del Mundo:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1485.jpg
There they do a series of experiments to "prove" that you're really on the equator. Yes, water really does swirl the other way in the south, and drops straight down on the equator. It's easier to balance an egg on the head of a nail there, because there's less gravity; and you also lose 30% of your physical resistance when you're standing right on the line. There is an ongoing challenge to balance the egg like the guide does. Craig was the only person in the group who managed to do it, and he has the certificate to show for it.
Water swirling clockwise:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1486.jpg
An egg balanced on a nail:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1489.jpg
Sunday we did finally go up the Telefériqo to the top of Pichinca, at 4,100 meters. The west side was entirely clouded in, so we couldn't see Guagua Pichincha, but the city was visible, and impressive. It's impossible to understand how truly huge Quito is until you see it from an airplane or the mountain.
View from the Telefériqo:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1495.jpg
Geeky stuff on Pichincha!
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1501.jpg
Craig with geeky stuff:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1503.jpg
Quito from Pichincha:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1500.jpg
That night we went wandering through the Mariscal, and tripped across something to do when a man ran by us at full tilt, chased by a shouting security guard. We looked at each other, shrugged, and followed them at a distance to see what was going on. We caught them up around the opposite corner of the block, where the policeman had the guy up against a wall and was in the process of arresting him. A small crowd had gathered to watch, including a girl who was unmistakably a hooker.
The guy who was being arrested started begging her for help, saying he didn't do anything. Then another guy showed up - we guessed the guy who was the victim of whatever crime had been committed - got out a tire iron, and started "helping" the policeman. After reluctantly following the instruction to put the tire iron away, he got out a camera to take the theif's picture. When the guy wouldn't cooperate, he got a couple of slaps in the face, and then finally handcuffs and a ride in a police truck.
Meanwhile, another guy had made himself known and was shouting insults at the policeman, who turned and began to shout them back. When the guy wouldn't shut up, he got a dose of pepper spray, which did the job quite efficiently. After that excitement was over, we wandered into a casino and spent some time playing video poker, then went to Papayanet for coffee.
Monday morning I made yet another attempt at registering my visa, and failed yet again due to lack of a certain certificate. Apparently the receipt from the bank stating that I had deposited the fee was not good enough. Frigging bureaucracy.
After that, we stopped in a hardware store to get parts to put together Craig's wireless invention. That was an adventure in itself, as the full extent of my hardware-related vocabulary consists of the word for "pipe." Fortunately we did actually need a pipe, but we also needed some other equipment that involved a lot of pointing and saying "eso, eso." (That one, that one!) We walked back to my house weilding an eight-foot length of steel pipe and a few other, less dangerous items. We leaned the pipe against the roof in the garden, then I went upstairs, climbed out on the roof, and retrieved it that way.
By the time mom returned home, we had put together the dish, mounted it on the pipe, secured said pipe to the balcony railing, and gotten me all the way to the top roof to screw together the coax. We took a break for lunch with mom, where I once again spent most of my eating time translating, and then went back to work. The hardware was the easy part, it turned out - once we got to actually installing things in my computer, it all went wrong. After a couple of hours of trying to de-virus my hard drive, we gave up and reinstalled Windows. That didn't fix the problem, though, and at dinnertime we finally gave up and went off in search of food.
After dinner, we holed up in Papayanet with a geekstick and downloaded drivers for my computer. We didn't go back to the project that night, as Craig had to leave at 6am the next morning. I took him to the airport and was back before I'm usually out of bed. I dragged myself through class and spent the rest of the afternoon and night sleeping.
Wednesday, however, I was back on the job, determined to get the wireless project working. After installing enough drivers to make the computer functional, I went on a hunt for a new USB cable, having the suspicion that the current one had been damanged. I finally found one in the local Radio Shack. It was horrifyingly expensive for a printer cable, so I bought the 1-meter length, figuring that if it actually worked I could buy extenders later.
Upon arrival home, I dumped my stuff and went immediately to work, excited about actually having a geek project to do. I took the lid off the electronics box, but the new cable's connector was a tiny bit longer than the old, so to fit it in I had to take the whole box apart. To take the box apart, I had to take it off the wall...
I asked mom for scissors, cleverly forgetting that I was wearing a very sharp, very sturdy knife. I didn't remember that fact until I had snapped the scissors and left the box intact on the wall. I ended up taking the entire thing apart, all the way down to the wireless chip and back again. Here was the key, though: the new cable worked. As soon as I plugged it in, the device was recognized the way it should have been, so I took the knife and made the hole in the box bigger. Then I spent several minutes struggling to put it all back together, since the new cable forced me to rearrange the big pieces.
Eventually I got it together and tied back onto the window grating, just as it began to rain. Then I went out and bought new scissors for mom, and a 2-meter cable extension. That meant that my computer had to sit right by the door, and me on the floor, but after some futzing with the antenna, I actually got internet.
Today I went on a hunt for cable extenders, and after buying a 1-meter jobber at a place in the mall, I finally found a properly geeky store that sold me a 15-footer. I could have hung around that place for hours; I miss the shop. So now not only do I have internet, but the cables wrap neatly out of the way and still reach both my desk and my bed. Thank you, Craig!
Random graffiti in the Mariscal:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh276/keskipper/100_1505.jpg
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
