Disconnect to Reconnect

Home

viajandooso — Fri, 2 Oct 2015 01:47:00 GMT

Home:

A place that the heart longs for,

a place that your soul belongs,

the only place where you are both fully at peace

where you become restless one day but want nothing more than to be there the next

where the seasons and changes are engrained in your mind,

your moods belong to her,

your heart longs for her,

where the most foreign things are familiar,

she holds you

and you can never forget her in your heart.

Perhaps we long for home more as we get older, come to appreciate it more , or perhaps "Home", where ever it may be, only belongs to the luckies of us. Home can be appreciated more by leaving and learning more about the world around us, just as leaving our friends makes us to appreciate those that we love even more. This way we can open our minds and our hearts to learn more, to call new places home, as we form new friendships, but still in our hearts there is a place like no other, and still we know the people who will be with us forever in mind and heart.

Photos: Paris wandering

viajandooso — Tue, 22 Sep 2015 04:46:00 GMT

Paris September 2015

On my way a stop in Paris -Wanderings

viajandooso — Tue, 22 Sep 2015 03:38:00 GMT

Nobody knows my Name:

To laugh is-to appear the fool.

To weep is-to risk appearing sentimental.

To reach out for another is-to risk involvement.

To expose feelings is-to risk exposing your true self.

To place your ideas, your dreams before the crowd is-to risk their loss.

To love is-to risk not being loved in return.

To live is-to risk dying.

To hope is-to risk despair.

To try is-to risk failure.

But risk must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing. He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love-live. Chained by his certitudes, he is a slave, has forfeited freedom

~Unknown, Pacific Crest Outward Bound School

Perhaps there is some solitude in knowing that you are no one in a city of thousands of strangers, but there is also peace and a million doors that can open to adventure.

Ah yes, that familiar glaze of exhaustion with a sent of city square, the bustle of traffic on a narrow and pedestrian crowded street. The paradoxes of architecture as everything from ancient to modern combine. I sit on the white worn steps of an old palace of sorts now turned into a theater or maybe a restaurant, perhaps both. The large columns and the old roman statues on either side are nothing like the block like blues and grays of the contemporary building across for it with it’s four story white framed windowed top hat. The somewhat out of place tree on the third story of the top hat is the only thing that makes it at all similar to the building across from it with the bonsai in front. The history from Roman times until now is all around, found in the architecture, the cracks and crevasses layered and hidden in plain site. People of all sorts, foreigners and locals, rich and poor, young and not so young all hustle and bustle about. Most of them paying no mind to anything but their next task- like minute cells all working for the life of the city, or parts of gears in a clock.

Strangely I seem to have missed the city- the smells and sounds, and maybe most of all the obsoleteness of my own being and everyone else. Perhaps the best thing though is to be around trains once again. Oh trains, the metro, public transportation- how wonderful! Getting lost in the city, heck it didn’t take me any time at all. Exploring- calm, confident. Even the exhaustion of having slept maybe 6-7 hours in the past two days adds to its wonders. Alone. Independent. But still lost, not yet afraid.

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Notre Dame Cathedral- For Ana

The Notre Dame cathedral in Paris is comparable to me with the Westminster Abbey of London. Upon visiting both for the fist time I was fortunate enough to witness a service, have a tour, and be with my wonderful high school advisor Carrie. Each of these cathedrals holds a unique place in my memories. My second visit to the Abbey was on Ash Wednesday 2013 for a 19:00, or was it 15:00, service to start of lent. The experience of this visit to the Abbey evolved my mere appreciation for the mysterious old cathedral into a more developed appreciation for the Abbey, her history, and her purpose past, present, and future.

But now I am visiting the Notre Dame Cathedral for me second time. The bells sing so beautifully in their glory. If I close my eyes and listen, perhaps I can recall the tune with the traditional “Dong, Dong, Dong,” to follow. The description of the cathedral and this very area is etched in my mind form Victor Hugo’s Hunch Back of Notre Dame. The people now are not so different either. Still there are beggars and cripples, businessman, onlookers, and attendees to services. Maybe there are simply more gapers now, to look and maybe not to see, but who am I to say. The thing most etched in my mind are the doors, both in book and in life they remain magnificent.

I shall enter...

There is not the same magic or spirit of the church inside, perhaps it has been overridden too much by tourism, or maybe I am missing it. Still it is peaceful and the magic of the story and of the architecture is captivating. Hunch Back of Notre Dame is a memory, personal to all in their own way; I shall share this one with Anastasia Abraham. I have never been past the ground level of the cathedral, yet I have studied this level carefully in literature and sight, sketching it over and over in my mind and as unrecognizable drawings. Perhaps I do not wish to taint the magical description from Hugo's story. My picture is painted well enough.

Pictures can be found under "Paris" in galleries and are from two days of walking and taking random trains around Paris. Thank you Anne!

Photos: SEA

viajandooso — Wed, 2 Sep 2015 01:49:00 GMT

SEA and the Sargasso Sea

viajandooso — Wed, 2 Sep 2015 01:39:00 GMT

Dear Readers,

There are many adventures that I have not written publically about, but these will have to wait. For now this will be my attempt to catch you up on my most recent semester at SEA: Sea Education Association. I can briefly describe SEA as INCREDIBLE:

Interactive

Non-traditional

Creative

Rewarding

Expertly

Directional

Intellectually

Beautiful

Learning

Experience

In short, my experience at SEA was just as I described it in general, incredible. In 12 short weeks I found a family of friends that I will cherish forever, a motivation that allowed me to go with very little sleep for weeks on end, and a passion for marine conservation and spatial planning that I never new existed.

The SEA class of C-259 participated in the Marine Biodiversity and Conservation spring semester of 2015. We were led by our lead scientist Amy Suida, our expert in Marine Spatial planning Tiffany Smythe, and our great captain whom I shall not name. With the help of these outstanding mentors and many inspiring guest speakers C-295 learned how to sail a tall ship, conduct original oceanographic research, and developed an impressive management plan for the Sargasso Sea.

The Sargasso Sea makes up a large portion of ocean area in the North Atlantic. Although many people do not know of the Sargasso Sea by name, it is of great economic and cultural importance to anyone who enjoys fish, products that are shipped across the ocean, many other resources that come from the ocean, and even people who enjoy our currently climate. Our class was tasked with coming up with a way to manage this area for human uses and conservation efforts. To learn more about the area and our proposal to manage the area, please view A Management Proposal for the Sargasso Sea or learn more about the Sargasso Sea Commission and their work.

To access C-259’s final symposium presentations that outline the key components that we focused on for creating our management plan the proposals that we made please visit SEA on YouTube at: C-259 symposium videos. The videos can be views in any order or as single sections, however they were originally presented in the following order: Intro to the Sargasso Sea Management Plan, Context & Management areas, Conservation Targets, Conservation Stressors, Fisheries in the Sargasso Sea, and Maritime Traffic in the Sargasso Sea.

Thank you for your support and interest in the Sargasso Sea.

Where am I and How did I get here?

viajandooso — Fri, 17 May 2013 07:07:00 GMT

People call me crazy..... Well it is true perhaps and this time I may have to agree.

I began the year of 2012 in Ecuador, on a journey. I explored myself, as who I am and who I want to become, I explored a new culture and new sub cultures, I explored new terrain, and dove head first into traveling alone. But this is only where I began.

Fall 2013, I enrolled in Colorado College beging a new chapter of life between a home that I have always known and one away from my family. Of course there are always the adventures of college as a freshman student with struggles and joys alike, but for some reason my entire life seemed to shift in ways that I never imagined. I was placed in Russian:Language, literature and Culture for my first two courses. I had never had any particular interest in Russia and knew nothing about it, but was intersted all the same becayse it was new. Throughout the course I struggled, I worked hard and still seemed to be behind everyone else in the course. In these initial two months I additionally began to struggle with my mental health as well as my physical fitness.

The year continued bringing something new with each new course on the 3 and half week class schedule that the Block plan has to offer. I met new people, listened to new ideas, and explored spirituality in new ways. I discovered aspects of human kindness that I could never imagine. I had never imagined that I would be the one on my knees lost and confused. I blamed my depression on not doing anything useful in my life. I had gone from a life with volunteer work, work (for pay), and traveling on my own to just being a student. I had no purpose, but for my self and simply felt useless. And from this experience I have grown and now come, due to some miracle to another adventure abroad.

As I have mentioned, I began my year with two months of Russian. My studies of Russia did not end here, rather they consumed my freshment year. After two months of only short classes twice I week I easied back in with two more blocks then signed up to study in Russia. And here in Russia is where I have been for the past two months. Thus I have spent 3/4ths of my first year in college studying a language and cuture that I had no interest in proir to my first course. Somehow through all of my wondering and confusion, I managed to get myself not only to this large foriegn cournty that I have seeminly no ties to, but have planned my trip to continue through Eastern Europe and Italy into late July. I have an outline of a plan for counrty to country and who I will visit, but as I sit here in the Warsaw, Chopin airport realize that it is only that, an outline.

When I origanlly began with entry months ago, I had the full entention to write about my adventures leading up to Russia. About how I was going to Russia and had no idea how. But that was months ago, and this is now. I have had many adventures and have many more to go. I hope to go through and share some of these adventures with others who enjoy discovering new places and cultures, and who enjoy the hands on learning experiences.

Perhaps, I will have to prerequasite all of the experiences of Russia and abroad, with Bobby's story. For the 5 hours that I spend with this drug addict and homeless man may have been the best teacher I have had. But for now I am in Warsaw airport, alone and ready to sleep. I am between my chapter in Russia and my first destination: Prague.

Русский Язык глава один: Russia 2013

viajandooso — Sat, 26 Jan 2013 06:59:00 GMT

I will update this lacation and stories for Russia soon. For now please the read stories under: Where and I and how did I get here 2013. Below is the first story:

People call me crazy..... Well it is true perhaps and this time I may have to agree.

CARNAVAL

viajandooso — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 18:56:00 GMT

I had been warned by my host family and others that Carnaval was crazy, but did not understand when or what it was. All of February has been filled with holidays, one after another and now Carnaval has come to end it the month. I was introduced to this holiday when a group of kids soaked me with water and some sort of white powder on my walk into town. The celebration lasts four days, starting on a Friday.

Friday: Water is thrown and Balloons are popped

Saturday: Flour is added and Carioke begins

Sunday: Flour, paint, water, Carioke, eggs, dancing, drinking & More

Monday: Gran Finally, Queen is chosen

Tuesday: It may be more relaxed, but watch out the festivities continue!

On Sunday I woke up anticipating a calm day to catch up on writing. Next thing that I new I had agreed to pile into a truck with the family of my host Mom´s cousin. We were headed to Loreto for the festivities of Carnaval. I had seen the Carioke cans being sold on the street and kids walking around covered in the foam, water and paint, but had not experienced Carnaval.

In Loreto, about two hours outside of Tena, I was introduced to Carnaval. We started at a family members house with a Carioke war. Carioke is a water based foam that comes in many different colors and scents and is sprayed out of a spray paint like bottle. Velma had send us with 21 bottles of mostly blue Carioke. Between about twenty of us we used all the Carioki up in approximately two hours. My once white shirt, skin and blonde hair were all turned blue. In the beginning I attempted to wash up using water, but eventually gave up washing off the slippery solution and walked around looking like a smurf, along with a few others who had given up. To continue our afternoon we went by a small store where group members grabbed eggs right and left to crack over other people heads.

To add to the blue body, top it with a raw egg.

The adventures for the afternoon ended with being thrown into a swimming pool full of people. My friend Cristy and I had clung desperately to a large chain as men tried to pick us up. Eventually we gave in and ended up with everyone else in a pool. People were running around dragging others in, painting people, and straying Carioke.

It was insane and surely would have never been permitted in the United States. The pool that was once probably a clear green or blue color with chlorine was now a muddy mixture of colors. Some people, such as myself, were fully clothed while others had chosen to strip only to their underwear. In addition to running, diving into a shallow pool, and overflowing the normal occupancy level of any area that size, there were kids standing up and climbing up the giant water slide.

After a fully clothed shower and fresh clothes we went back to the house where we had the Carioke fight. Dinner was served and we ended the Sunday night with dancing.

Rooger and the Matramony

viajandooso — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 19:17:00 GMT

I had arranged to meet Fredy at his Hosteria today to help him work in return for a Spanish lesson. I headed out and caught the Blue bus number one as instructed, but had failed to ask which direction I needed to go. In the town of Napo I wondered about looking for the Hosteria. On my way back to the bus stop a young man by the name of Rooger stopped me. He is an eighteen year old native Kitchwa man. I went with him back to his home in Tena where I met his family and watched a Kitchwa dance video with his father and three year old sister. He served me my first Chicha, a traditional "juice" of the Kitchwa people. I have had it explained to me as a fruit drink fermented with the spit of the native people, but actually have no idea what it is.

Rooger invited me to come with his family to a matramony. With not the slightest idea to what I was agreeing to I piled into the Taxi with the rest of his family. The taxi took us outside of the city and into the hills of Tena. The ceremony was held under a large covered area outside of someones porch. It was raining hard and the tin rooftop was threatening to cave in from the wight. Multiple beds, a new refrigerator, a stove, a washing machine, and more house hold gifts were brought from one covered area into the other as a gift for the couple. I understood that it was a ceremony for two people, but at the time had not understood that I was witnessing a traditional Kitchwa marriage ceremony. The ceremony began with traditionally dressed young woman of no more then twenty feeding Chicha to the guests out of a gourd. Family members from most closely related good friends were called upon to present their gifts to couple. The groom was wearing a red and white checkered cloth poncho over his dress shirt. In the center of the poncho the church cross was embroidered in gold. In the back of him were two other men dressed the same way, but wearing white instead of checkered ponchos. The bride, groom, and other important people gave speeches after the gifts, in a mixture of their native Kitchwa tongue and Spanish. Music was put on electronically then a traditional meat and Yucca soup was served. Following the soup was a place with a yucca and bean based stew, chicken, rice, amazonian potatoes, and Anteater(?) ribs. Entire chickens, whole fish, cow hooves, and other meat was also passed around to the guests to take home.

Unfortunately I had to excuse myself at this part of the event because I needed to be getting home. Rooger wanted me to stay, but understood and explained to me that after the food there was going to be dancing and beer.

Chef Fredy & Misahualli

viajandooso — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 06:29:00 GMT

While struggling terribly to lean how to make one of Jupita´s bracelet patterns a man stopped by to talk. He learned that I was a citizen of the United States and immediately asked if I would help him set up his email. He goes by the name of Fredy and is a Chef at one of the Hosterias, similar to a small resort, on the outskirts of Tena. Chef Fredy grew up in the poorer part of Las Angeles, California for his school years and has returned back to his home country of Ecuador. I helped him to set up an email and skype account and to send his first email.

A couple days later I called Chef Fredy to see if he would want to go to Misahualli with me. I had heard the name of this place before and thought that it was a rain forest park. When we arrived I learned that in fact it is a small town that survives on the tourism that is brought in by the river, the waterfalls, and the rain forest near by. Misahualli is also famous for the monkeys that live there. These monkeys got here because a man traveling from the forest once brought a male and female into the town. The family has grown and now there is a population of forty or fifty monkeys through out the small town. If you leave your things unaccounted for the monkeys will take them and bring them into the trees, but apart from steeling things they are not generally aggressive.

The alpha monkey in Misahualli was the biggest and most aggressive. One day he went into one of the houses and through the mans television onto the ground along with other things. The man had worked very hard to earn a television and was furious. He got his gun and shot the monkey. The monkey would have died, but the people of Misahualli have grown to like having the monkeys around and made sure that the Alpha monkey got medical treatment.

On the bus ride to Misahualli I learned a little more about Fredy,s life growing up in the Ghettos of Las Angeles. He had begun to teach himself marshal arts by the age of twelve. Everyone in his area were getting tattoos of barbwire around their right upper arms, so to create something different and still acceptable he made a more intricate design that follows one simple line. As soon as he finished high school and had raised enough money to return to Ecuador he came back to be a chef. In Quito he finished his education for Culinary arts then packed up and left one day because he was tired of the freezing rain. He has worked and lived all around the Tena, Napo area and has recently moved into a room at the Hosteria where he is working.

Chef Fredy showed me around the small circular town of Misakualli. We passed by the president of the town and met a person who asked for Fredy´s help with painting a sign for his store. We had dinner with another individual in the town who could not find work. We had missed out bus back to Tena, but eventually found a pick up truck that was headed back. Some of the things that are typical here would never be permitted in the United States, like asking a complete stranger for a ride in the back of their truck on a high way.

Traveling Venders

viajandooso — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 04:16:00 GMT

I stumbled upon a new group of friends as I was making my was home from English classes in the Amazonian Community. Three people were sitting on the street corner selling jewelry. One of the men greeted me to begin a conversation. I was in no particular hurry so I joined them on the street corner. Once again this group fit the stereotype of hippies with their dread-locked hair and herb sack necklaces. The french woman, Nadia, was wearing baggy rainbow colored pants and leaning relaxed against the wall taking a break from working. The man who had greeted me is a traveling musician from Columbia named Daniel. The other man, Jupita is the the actual artisan of the group and is making his rounds through South America from is home in the rain forests of Peru. I struggled with the different dialects and accents as I listened to them speak. Jupita taught me how to make one to the bracelets, which added another challenge from my brain. I enjoyed my Valentines day afternoon with this group, before being reminded by the Taxi driver on the way home that I ought to pay special attention to my "boyfriend" on this special day.

I returned to join Jupita for nearly every day he was around. New people came and went from his station on the street corned, and I have learned a little more about the art of living as a Traveling Vender.

Toilet paper and Copying machines

viajandooso — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 04:27:00 GMT

Apart from family, friends, and school I have perhaps come to miss the luxturies of a copier machine and toilet paper the most. Both of these things are available in Ecuador, but the availability and culture is very different.

Copier Machine: I have become very accustom to creating between 15 and 20 copies of any written or drawn material that is needed in the classroom.

At the end of my firts week in the class one of the male observers corrected the way that I hold my pencil. Most of the people here write in the exact same way and it is incorrect to do so any other way. To draw the pencil should be held differently, and it would be a shame to write or draw incorrectly infront of a four year old who is just learning. Needless to say that I am improving the clarity of my writting and it has become more Ecuadorian style.

Toilet paper: I have learned the hard way that if someone offers or gives me a roll of toilet paper to take it. Also, DO NOT leave it in the bathroom for others to use, even if you are replacing the roll that was there. If you are going somewhere where you may need to use the toiler bring tiolet paper. Toilet paper is a very precious commodity but not because it is unavailable; most stores sell toilet paper. When it comes to TP, be selfish!

Brief Frustrations

viajandooso — Sun, 12 Feb 2012 08:43:00 GMT

This week my challenges have been being sick, teaching English, and helping in a classroom where the children do not respect me. Coming down with a cold in a foreign country is difficult. In Colorado I am familiar with the language and the people, but here it is much different. Not having this familiarity has presented a challenge for me to take care of my own very basic needs in order to feel better and recover from a cold.

The students who I have volunteered to teach English to do not always come to "class." Tuesday there were only four kids in class and on Friday about twelve. I am supposed to be there for two hours, but the time that I am actually there continues to get shorter as the children wander off. I asked one of the older students in the class why and his answer was that they did not want to learn how to speak English, but want to understand it. I have provided games, songs, and made materials to use, but the students do not seem to understand me. In the beginning I thought that this was due to my lack of Spanish, but adults near by have told me otherwise. I am very confused about this.

The class of four year olds that I teach present a continuation of challenges, but finally I have had a success with the teacher. On Friday afternoon we split the class up into four year olds and five year olds. I had prepared for this and was going to give a lesson on the Spindle boxes. In order to create a flowing environment I had everything prepared and had taught a few of the kids so that they could help during the lesson. When the time came Laura, the teacher, gave me the four year olds and asked me to teach something completely different that was not prepared. She taught the spindle box lesson for the first time to the five year olds. The first problem with this was that none of the four year olds respect me in the least bit and I could not prepare anything for them in the time frame allotted. By the end of it some of the materials that Laura and I have spent hours creating were in pieces and only one of the students had successfully completed the activity. I felt that I had been set up for failure and that the kids had equally been set up to fail in this activity. The success that came from this was the Laura finally said that we needed to prepare the material for them, which I have been trying to explain for the last two weeks. I have tried not only explaining this, but also doing it to show the difference in how the children behave, however, every time my work is destroyed before the opportunity comes.

(I will try to add more soon with pictures, but am currently having trouble with the computers)

Friends on the Go

viajandooso — Mon, 6 Feb 2012 03:50:00 GMT

Feeling slightly loney, I went to my regular hangout spot at Lauran´s Helado-ria to seek out some enlish speaking friends. Eventually two stereotypical hippies walked in with dreaded hair and loose fitted natural clothing. I strained to listen if they spoke English, and eventually got the nerve to introduce myself. The woman was Hungarian and the man from Belgium. They had just met on a bus ride from the touristy town of Baños and were passing through Tena with no particular schedule. We accompanied the woman, Diana, to get her nose pierced at a place down the street. I showed then around the area of Tena that I know best before journeying to find a place for them to organize a rafting trip. With a mixture of our three different native languages we communicated in a mixture of English and Spanish. At one of the tour offices to organizer commented on how odd of a group we were. A tan stout man who had long dreaded brown hair, a tall white woman with shorter blond dreaded hair and a new studded nose piercing, and an even whiter young North American girl that did not fit in with the other two at all. The tour agent laughed as he commented that the man looked like a white version of Bob Marley. Diana also made him laugh with here commentary, and the man was utterly confused about how I fit into the picture.

Many people avoid interaction with "hippies" here because they are stereotyped heavily for drug use. They have become my first foreigner friends that I have made on my own.

A Thirst to Learn English

viajandooso — Sun, 5 Feb 2012 18:05:00 GMT

Upon my walk home last week a man stopped me on the street and invited me into his family´s sewing shop. I had been wondering about the city trying to find my way home and greatfully accepted. The man, Fausto, is part a Kichwa (indiginous) community and works as a tour guide. I was offered lunch and gave my first english lesson. Throughout the rest of the the week I have gathered more people who want me to teach them english as well as my own classroom in one of the Kichwa communities that seperate from the city. English is a very valuable langauge in Ecuador, because it opens the door to better paying jobs and further education. In the schools Englsih and mandatory from the age of five all the way through University. Although enlish is taught for multiple years, many students are unable to form basic questions and sentences. According to many of the students that I have spoken with the class becomes too difficult once they enter Colegio, around 13 years old. Hopefully I will be able to create a more interesting and meaningful learning envirnment to help the people who have asked.

Arriving at my new Home

viajandooso — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 03:49:00 GMT

I have arrived in Tena. My family includes my most parents, grandmother, cousins, and three sisters. We live in the San Jorge district of Tena, the capital city of the district Napò. No one in the family speaks english, but regaurdless of language my youngest sister, a 6 years old named Heather, has become my best friend so far.

tThe day after arrival I began my volunteer postition in a School called Jardin (pronounced in english as Hardeen). It is hard for my Montessori mind to grasp the idea of of four year olds sitting quietly and contained in rows of desks, or perhaps it it that I have watched as this does not work. I am not by any means an expert on child development or teaching, but I find it somewhat obvious that the behavior of a four year old is much different from what has being expected of them in my last two days of observation. There have been five University students from Tena who have been finishing their teaching projects at the school. This made a ratio of 7-8 adults for 12 children the first day and 8-9 adults to 16 children the second day. The University students got very frustrated at times with the children. I have not helped much so far, because I am not sure how. Next week it will be only me and the main teacher, Laura which should make things easier. The langauge burriar is frustrating, but I am learning more everyday.

Nina, a German university student who is interning in Tena, brought me into town and to the river. She as shown me the basis of the town and given me learning tips for the language. When she first came to Tena three months ago she did not speak much spanish, now whe is leaving and can speak fluently. I will miss the company for the afternoons.

Adventures of Quito

viajandooso — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 02:57:00 GMT

There is no defining moment for when my journy began. It could have been eight months ago when I first booked a four month long trip to Ecuador or perhapes it has been the process of excitment and nevesness that I experienced leading up to the day I left. On January 16th I took my first flying lessons from the comforts of my family, friends, and Compass Montessori. As I checked my luggauge in DIA I hoped that security would not open the box of Montessori Materials that my mom had some how jigsawed together to fit. Through out the day security ,airport officials, and other travelers questioned my about the blue and red rods,used to teach measurement in a Montessori Children´s House, that I was carrying. After a delayed flight to Quito, and a feable attempt to explain to customs why I had a tourist visa for four months, I finally made it onto the streets of Quito.

On the first day in Quito I stood at the center of the world, saw my first shrunken heads, met my Brittish roomate, Heather, and begun spanish lessons. I soon realized just how much independence I had asked for when I had to navigate my own way around the city. My first taxi ride alone was the greatest lesson that I have had in Quito so far. The taxi driver was able to target me as a tourist and create an alternative route that got us both lost and cost me much more time then neccissary. I have now learned to memorize the exact routes for how to get to common places. What would have been my last day in Quito proved to be the most frusterating day of all because I had to register my tourist visa. The political system in Quito is very currupt and no one knows exactly how the visa system works. Gaby, my in country coordinator, thankfully has helped me with the system, that has kept me in Quito for an additional four days.

I spent the weekend traveling with my new friend from South Korea, whom I met shortly after my roomate left and I moved into the main appartment. We live on the top floor of a blue building above a car dealership with a very kind older woman, Maria Leli, and her sister, Maria. On Saturday we traveled to the town of Oltravalo to witness the magnificent outdoor market. The market filled most of the streets and had everything from typicall Ecuadorian food and clothing to Westering clothing, toiletries, and computers. Anything you wanted you could get there, but it is very important to bargain the price otherwise it is considered unlucky for the murchant. On Sunday we journied to the old town of South Quito. The grand plaza was packed full of people. Some were there for their Sunday Mass, others to entertain or enjoy the entertainment. Quito is a mixed place of Ecuador´s new westernized culture and the incredable past. Although the Incans were here and imposed their language, it is very uncommon to find any Ecuadorian that will discuss the Incas in their country.