New Postings- Instructions!

So because the task of writing about vacation was so huge and daunting, it is just now being posted. I am so happy to be finished with it! So below I posted them in chronological order as the story goes, although to viewers, the first part is at the bottom of the list. But, unless you are very much dull, I think you can figure out how it is put together. Read the one that has a "1" on it first, "2" second, and so-on.

As for pictures, I don't want to have time. Sorry. But I will put the addresses below in order to my facebook albums because I have uploaded them there, simply because the facebook upload is about 7,000 times easier. There are nine albums of 60 photos each just from Peru, but there are some great photos in there, so browse at your leisure:

*All of the links that were originally put here no longer exist, since I deleted my account.  Some day I may put them back up.*

The final note: I have two more topics to write on to get caught up on the blog. It has been a busy month and a half. I need to write about the Amazon trip Idaho took and my time back in Quito, including my bro-hair's visit and school since it has started. I'm not going to write for a while though. I have no ganas to do that. I hope to do it soon so I don't fall so far behind anymore, but be patient, because my writingness gets REALLY exhausted when I'm talking about myself- hence my choice of fiction over non-fiction. Check back soon, I guess! This is me sending out love to everyone, and just so you know, while you are in the frozen temps of Idaho and various other places, I'm sitting in an open-air cafe! Pobrecitos! :D

Peru Installment 4

We got up mighty early. Earlier than I would have liked. But the hike was beautiful. The steps up the steep trail were just carved out of the mountain-side. And we felt like we were REALLY DOING SOMETHING. Every tourist there does the bus-ride, the same old stuff every time, but we hiked it! We had wanted to do the whole Inca Trail, but missed the deadline. But this made up for it! We felt loose and broken-in by the time we got to the entrance, where we got our passports stamped (mine for a second time in a little over a year).

Within the first 20 minutes of being in the park, I saw far more than I did the whole time I was there a year ago. When we had come the year before, I had been miserably sick and the weather was foggy, cold, rainy, you name it. It was clear when we got there this time. Well, okay, not at first. But within ten minutes of getting in, I could see everything.

We decided to split up (I was feeling grouchy, which happens about once a month, sadly) and meet up later, so we all teetered off. I headed in the direction of the ancient Inca Bridge, which was a small hike (and I would say not really worth it, but I liked it). I was completely surprised when I saw both Lars and Charlotte already there, both arriving separately and independently! We had all gone the same way. I was finally not feeling so grouchy and mean anymore and we spent the rest of the day together, looking over every bit and piece of the ruins, although we had missed our chance to climb Hyuanapicchu, the mountain that is seen in the background of the most famous photos.

We didn’t have a guide like most of the other groups had, but I had a guidebook to Peru that would tell us enough of what we needed. We saw everything in that park and had a blast doing it. I was even able to get Lars to pose for a picture or two, which is a nearly impossible task to achieve.

We took the bus down (I know, horrible, but Charlotte's knee was hurting her) and showered and chilled out with one of the talking parrots. The next morning we caught our train back to Ollantaytambo, another large set of ruins, which I chose to not go into this time, seeing as how the price was exorbitantly high. I hung out in an internet café checking email until Lars and Charlotte were finished, at which point we took off in a taxi that happened to be going back to Cusco. The couple and their daughter that took us were perfectly polite people, asking us where we would like to be dropped off when we got back to the city.

We managed to find Charlotte a hotel room and then Lars and I took off to find our way to Cai Cay! Charlotte had plans to explore the city while we were away.

We took a cab out to Cai Cay, where we were welcomed with open arms. I got to sleep out in the loft with the boys, which was fun for me since I sleep on the floor that I had helped build the year before. There were very few boys on the trip, but they were great and quite funny. And the work that they had done was AMAZING. I know that they didn't think they had done much, but it was because they were so close to it and couldn't see the improvements. They had worked wonders!

The next morning we got to work with the team on laying rock for a patio (a frustrating task because it supposedly had to be perfect for something that they knew was not even going to look anywhere near perfect once the cement was poured). Partway through the day Lars started to get sick, getting even to the point where he had to go lie down and sleep it off, though he threw up violently several times. I tried to mother him, but darnit, the man just wouldn’t let me! :) I left him alone and by evening he felt a little better, but by the time dinner was finished, I was throwing up violently into the grass as well. It felt stupid, because here we were having lived in South America for six months and in front of a bunch of weak-stomached Americans, we were the only ones throwing up.

We slept another night (I, by the way, was sleeping with every bit of clothing I had brought with me on and without more than a poncho for a blanket in the cold Peruvian night air) and were able to catch a ride back into Cusco with the team, as they were to fly out that afternoon as well. We wearily and weakly said our goodbyes, walking away missing what we were leaving behind.

When we made it to the hotel where we had left Charlotte, we really didn’t expect what we were to find. Charlotte had just started getting sick that morning, also violently throwing up. Apparently we had eaten something all together that was bad for our systems. The weird thing was that we had not seen each other for two days and when we had eaten together, we had not eaten the same thing. But for some reason we were all getting sick at slightly different times but with the same symptoms. Lars was a perfect sweetheart, going out into the city and getting us a good supply of water, crackers, bread, and yogurt for our 21 hour bus ride that we were about to start back to Lima. You can trust me when I say that we were not looking forward to the ride, but we had seats right in the front, which was AWESOME.

When we got to the bus station that we felt like we had just left, we were informed that there were mining strikes up and down Peru, meaning that there was no bus yet to take us back to Lima. We had planned that bus so that we would make it on time to the airport in Lima for our flight back to Piura (the town from hell). So they were telling us that we should come back in four hours and maybe there would be a bus. Well, we had nowhere to go, we were ridiculously sick, and we needed to get back to Lima in a hurry.

So we laid around in the bus station for an hour and a half, at which point a bus showed! We asked and asked and asked and no one seemed to know if we could get on it or not. Then all of a sudden the people who had tickets for the 4pm bus were the ones who could get on the bus, while those of us who had already been waiting from the 2pm bus were going to wait some more. I think that finally enough people yelled at them saying how stupid of an idea that was, that they finally let the 2pm’ers on the bus. But since the majority of us had someplace to go, only us orphans that had hung around the station for nearly two hours were the ones still around to get on. So we were made to wait anyway, but finally got out of the station at 5pm, which we thought would be early enough to make it to Lima in time for the flight, although it was looking tight.

The buses all bore painted letters on the front saying things like “long live the miner’s strikes” and such. Unfortunately we sat next to a couple who seemed to think that campesinos and mine-workers had no real right to ask for good working conditions. They were from England, if I remember correctly, and they were saying “It’s always about the f*ing miners. What about the people who have to travel?” Although I feigned understanding, I was inside screaming their ignorance.  Yes, poor tourists indeed, who are paid well enough to get to take vacations.

Lars sat in the frontest seat that we had, next to two little kids, both of which happened to get pretty motion/altitude sick during the ride and were throwing up violently enough that I felt the need to put in my headphones to keep what little was in my stomach where it was. But we all did well. No throwing up. Lars spent the entirety of the time that he and the little kids were awake playing card games, learning hand games and talking about the thorn he had shoved in his ear. We tried to catch it on film but had no luck with that.

Alright, I’m bored of talking about the trip. Time to talk about something else. This is Emily hour with your host…. Emily. Have you ever wondered where babies come from? Not me. Actually, I have always wondered where Jelly beans come from. Especially Jelly Bellys. I mean, first of all, where on earth do they get the flavor from inside of the bean? The popcorn ones are so amazing to me. I mean, I hate them, but that doesn’t stop them from being amazing. I hate them because it is a jelly bean that is buttery and salty, which doesn’t make sense to me, nor is it at all appetizing. If I am going to eat something that is buttery and salty, I want popcorn in the way popcorn was MEANT TO BE, not encapsuled in something that should be sweet.

Regardless, it is amazing that this little bean can make me feel like I just ate a bowlful of theater grade popcorn. I once bought one of those packs of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean (which, for those of you twerps who don’t know, is from Harry Potter and are magically flavored) and I was SO IMPRESSED! Not that I liked eating grass or dirt, but sinking your teeth into a dirt bean was almost EXACTLY like getting a nose full of dirt kicked in your face. Not necessarily pleasing, but AWESOME nonetheless! It filled my nose, made me sneeze, I tell you, it really was magical.

Okay, back to Peru. When we got to Lima, Charlotte and I shoved ourselves dirty and weak into a cab to get our arses to the airport. We said goodbye to Lars, who went walking to find a bus to Loja or Cuenca (both of which are back here in Ecuador again). We caught our plane just fine, although had we been any later we would have been running to the gate.

When we got to Piura in the afternoon, we headed innocently to a bus terminal hoping to get a ticket to Loja or Cuenca, only to learn that no one in the whole city was selling tickets because of the strikes. We even went so far as to check a very sketch establishment that had a nasty dirty waiting room, complete with urine smells, a tent with people living in it, and a chicken squawking somewhere in a corner.

Bleh, so once again we were stuck in Piura with nothing to do. We got a room with the hopes that the roads would open up the next morning, but with no guarantee. We washed a little bit of clothing and then slept together in a double bed, since EVERYONE was stuck in Piura and the hotel had no more rooms other than a matrimonial. Oh, and all this time before we went to bed, we were trying to get hold of Lars, because we knew that if we could not get anywhere in the country due to the strikes, we highly doubted he’d even be able to get out of Lima on a bus.

In the morning we got up somewhat early and were ready to go before 9:00, only to arrive at the station and learn that there would be no bus until at least 7:00 that night. We had another 10 hour wait, sitting without food but with all we had with us in a bus station that was mostly just HOT. But there was a beautiful dog. I’ll post a picture.

When we finally got on the bus, we had had nothing to eat but fruit, bread, yogurt and crackers for more than 24 hours. We slept all the way to Loja, except for the twenty minutes that we spent getting back into Ecuador at the border. By the time we got to Loja, we didn’t feel like looking around. We got straight onto the next bus to Cuenca, where we were scheduled to meet up with Lars. We found him, got a room in the middle of the city that was very nice, and finally got some rest and some food.

Turns out that Lars had been stuck in Lima with no way to get out and had to buy ANOTHER last minute ticket (he had had to buy one on the way down to Lima for one reason or another) to Piura, at which point he was in the same town we were at the same time we were, but his phone was dead. So he wrangled a taxi to get him to take him to the strike line, where he got out and banged on bus windows until one let him in at least to sleep. They thought he was going to attack the bus with a gun at first, but they let him in. The strike line broke some hours later, but somewhere along the way, his whole bus was forced to get out of the bus in the middle of the night and clear the road of boulders the size of I don’t know what for a couple of hours to keep going.

He apparently made it into Cuenca sometime near the middle of the night, at which point he and three other people went to a hostal owned by the bus driver’s brother to get rooms. Apparently it was seedy and in the middle of the night one of the girl’s awoke to find the hostal owner’s son lifting up her sheets to get into the bed with her. She asked what the hell he was doing and he responded, “Quiero estar contigo,” or “I want to be with you.” She asked how old he was and he said 18 (she must have been 22-24-26ish) She was so freaked out that she went to sleep in the room of the Canadian couple that had come with them. In the morning Lars went with her to help translate and tell the owners what had happened. They basically called her a liar, saying that the boy had been in the room with his mother the whole night. Plus, they found out he was only 16 years old, not 18.

I have two questions… first of all, why would they lie about something like that? What could they possibly gain from telling a lie like that, other than MAYBE a free night stay? The hostal couldn’t have been more than $10 per night anyway. Secondly, what did this 16 year old boy possibly think was going to happen once he got to that girl’s room? Like, hey, I want to be with you and she just says, well thank god, it’s about time, get in here? Really? Needless to say, they all paid their bills and went to look for a new place to stay, and sometime later we met up with Lars.

Cuenca was a beautiful city! We didn’t have much time there, but we got to see the overview, LOTS of churches, and the orchidearia, which was AWESOME enough just by itself. A complex just to raise orchids. What is better?

We bought a ticket for something like 8:00 at night, which was a great thing, seeing as how they were going to let buses through until 10:00 because the roads into Quito were going to be closed because of mining strikes here in Quito! We were amazed! The strikes were all through Peru AND in Ecuador! We made it onto the bus and slept as well as we could until Quito. The bus pulled into Quito somewhere around six in the morning, at which point we hiked into the Mariscal, ate some breakfast, drank a LOT of coffee, and went to our meeting at PUCE with the new students for the semester at 8:00, smelling like three-week-old clothing and sporting bags under our eyes so intense that the length and activities of our trip were apparent. We were home.

Peru Installment 3

Two nights later we left Guayaquil, feeling as though we had seen enough. Great city, but big just like Quito. We caught a bus as far into Peru as possible (where, at the crossing, we were scammed without knowing it by the money-changers, who dared to lie to me even though I had discovered their trick and asked about it), which was to Tumbes, where we were shepherded onto a van-pool in the middle of the night to Piura. Even though our flight was very early in the morning, we had to have some sleep, so we took a room in Piura, which is a city we now know as the city we just couldn’t leave.

The morning after a rough and gross night sleep in a weird room, we got up very early to make our way to the airport, where we were only to find that our flight had been cancelled and they had tried to call, but were not able to reach us. Duh, we had given them our cell number, which had stopped working at the border. There was a long line of people waiting to get answered, including a man who had to be in Lima for an appointment with the US Embassy that day for a visa. He refused to move until they got him to Lima, which was completely unfair to the staff that was dealing with so many upset people. We felt horrible because we could just imagine how much was hanging on that visa, but the man was being unreasonable, asking them to just get the plane in the air, regardless of whether it had mechanical problems or not.

We were told that we would not be able to fly out until the next day, but we managed to convince the lady at the counter that we needed to get to Lima, seeing as how our train tickets in Cusco were already bought and our schedule was so tight. She was nice and got us on the 7:00 flight that night, plus set us up with a free room with free breakfast and lunch while we waited! I know that being a traveling person who gets their plane delayed or cancelled would be terrible, but I must say that it was nice being able to take a hot shower in a very nice room, sleep the day away in comfortable beds after our rotten night sleep in the grungy room from the night before, and get served breakfast by room service. We even had free internet. And we called Landon to tell him that we were not going to be as early as we had hoped, which turned out perfect because he was still out nerding it up at the raptor-raising facility outside Lima.

We finally got on the plane that night and were on our way to Lima. As we went through the airport business of getting off the flight, Chelsea and I discussed what the likelihood was that Landon would be there to meet us. I had told him on the phone that he could meet us if he made it to the airport or we would find a pay phone to call him from once we landed. (The cell phone service we have in Ecuador does not carry across the border, although all a person has to do is buy another chip for the phone, so Landon did that and Chelsea and I were simply without service throughout Peru.) We were SO thrilled to see Landon. We were a little tired and feeling very alone, having not seen anyone else we knew for what seemed like months. We were like giddy school girls, peeking over the crowd to see if we could spot the gringo (who is actually technically an Ecuadorian citizen). We had just decided that he wasn’t there when I spotted him and squeaked excitedly that I had seen him. Chelsea ran to the man in the black felt hat and we had a happy, huggy reunion.

In Lima we found a fairly cool hotel that was $5 per night that for some reason smelled like urine as we went to sleep. Chelsea's bed was not in any way flat. The slant was measurable in definite degrees. But we slept well and in the morning got up and took a cab to a place in the city where the big bus stations were. Lima is a city of 11 million people, so this was quite a trip in the morning.

We decided to go with the double-decker Cruz del Sol bus and got the cheaper tickets in the top and back of the bus. Unfortunately we didn’t know what we were getting into and the ENTIRE trip to Cusco (which, by the way is 21 hours), the door to the bathroom was swinging open and wafting unpleasant smells to wake us up. But to make it worse, the door was specifically designed to stay closed when moving, meaning that one had to use quite a bit of force to open and shut it. So we were woken up persistently by people being unable to figure out how to open it, it being slammed shut loudly, or it swinging wide open because someone had not used enough force to fully close it. It was miserable, but we were able to sleep, although I was definitely affected by the altitude. I kept getting very dizzy and my heart would patter, but it went away by the time we got off the bus.

When we DID get off the bus, we had learned our lesson about getting bus tickets at the last minute, so right away we bought our return tickets, giving me time to figure out where the heck we were and where we should probably head. We found a hostel with a room that had great light, a good bathroom, and a beautiful view, then we headed out to the main plaza to look around the city. The next morning we were scheduled for the train ride to Aguas Calientes, where we would stay for two nights.

The train ride came way too early in the morning, but we were able to make it to the station on time. Unfortunately, the train was delayed in the middle of the tracks for at least an hour, but if my memory serves me correctly it was more like two hours. There had been a mudslide and the mud had to be cleared from the tracks before the train could go any farther. It was thrilling to pass the place where the slide had been because the mud really was unpassable, even after they had been working to clear it for so long. The men were in rubber boots, but I’m pretty sure that they did not keep all that mud out.

We arrived safe and sound into Aguas Calientes, and as we were doing so I thought to myself, hmmm…. The UI Alternative Service Break team could have been here this weekend. But since it was a Sunday afternoon, I didn’t think much of it, since if they had been there, they probably would have gone by then to get back to Cai Cay, a little town outside of Cuzco.

We climbed up the huge hill and crossed the river into the other side of the city. We hiked up the hill at least ¾ of the way to the hot pools, asking every hostel we passed for their price, finally settling for one that was as cheap as we could find, but with a cute little courtyard. We dropped our stuff, washed up a little, and headed back into the town to check it out.

Aguas Calientes is an amazing city because there are no cars. The PeruRail train is the only way in and out of the city (creating a ridiculous monopolizing of the route and stupidly high prices), meaning that each bus that goes from Aguas Calientes up to the Machu Picchu park had to be carted in by train. Everyone walks (there is no other way to do it) and the city is just nestled into this little canyon, crossing the river which is half hot and half cold. There are hot pools and a plaza and a market and a beautiful cobble-stone walkway. The restaurants are right on the street and offer 5x1 Happy Hours and talking parrots. It is a magical place. Touristy, yes, but magical all the same.

We took to an internet café after buying our entrance tickets into the park (we got a discount because we were international students!). As I was emailing, I looked up to see a young man with a bright orange afro. It couldn’t be Owen. Owen lived in the same building as my brother Dan during Dan’s sophomore year and was often mistaken for him because of the red afro, although other than the hair they really look nothing alike. I was so freaked out that I went to chat with Landon, who had also lived with the two and was pretty good friends with the afro Owen. I said, “Landon, that guy looks freakishly like Owen.” His response was that he knew, he had seen him, but I insisted that it was so much of a resemblance that it was creeping me out. Landon looked closer, got up from his seat, kept getting closer while staring at this man until he was only a few feet from him. “Owen?” “Oh my god, Landon!” The two had no idea that they were in the same country, much less the same city. We had just stumbled across the UI ASB group!

I got to see Owen and my friend Chad and they said Christina was coming. As soon as I saw her, I ran to her in the street, where she promptly screamed bewildered and hugged me. She had been telling her team that she just knew someone she loved was in the town, that she could feel it. They had all thought she was crazy.

It turned out that they had to catch the train back to Cusco and then a bus back to Cai Cay at 6:00, so we chatted for a while and then said goodbye, although I headed straight for the station after we had eaten dinner to say goodbye to them again. I’m glad I did because Greg, who had been with the team I went with the Peru the year before for ASB, was with the group, though we hadn’t seen them, and because he had gotten his bag stolen with EVERYTHING in it, he had to get back to Lima to apply for an emergency passport to leave the country. So I would not have seen him because he would have left early before Landon and I headed to Cai Cay. It was great to see them. I felt like the veteran because I knew where everything was.

We shopped for a while, went to the hot pools (which were GROSS just like I had heard they were), and then headed to bed, since we had intended to hike our way up to the park the next morning.

Peru Installment 2

I took a break since writing last in order to hang out more with my brother and start school. We started last Monday the 2nd of February and I now have a definite schedule to report. Mondays are my big days: Economics from 7:00-8:40AM, Spanish from 9:00-12:15, Italian at 12:30-1:30 and Global Ethics at 2:00-5:00. It is going to be mad busy, but I know I can do it. I only have Econ on Mondays and Wednesdays and Global Ethics is only one day out of the week.

Back to the story of our viaje. We got up somewhat early the next morning, not really being rested because our bug nets were only a way to keep them from biting us, and in no way a way to keep them out of our ears and faces. It was muggy and hot and the river smelled a little. Oh yeah, and this was the vividly green river that ran just out our door. But we got to see a land iguana, which definitely made Chelsea happy. But our hostess was nowhere to be seen and the gate was locked to where the main office was, so we left $10 in the room, tied a note to the key saying that the money was in the room, and threw it over the fence. We had to leave.

We were able to catch a bus that would take us to Santa Elena, a town where we were intending to stop to see the “Hugging Lovers.” This sight is an archaeological collection of various things, but the main attraction is the pair of 80,000 year-old skeletons discovered in a loving embrace. I’m not sure if it was the history of it or the fact that I am nothing but a fat SAP, but I had to see it.

When we got on the bus, we discovered that it was completely full. All the seats in the back were taken, as well as all the standing room, meaning that there was only room in the front of the bus before the partition. The assistant so kindly set up my very own princess cushion next to the driver and on top of that big bump in the bus where the engine is. Chelsea was told to sit in the windshield on the small lip where various knick-knacks appeared to have been collecting over the years. Oh the things that would make lawsuits in the United States.

My legs were right next to the chubby, dirty right hand of the bus driver, who was somewhere around 30-40 years old, sporting a bushy mustache but no beard, 200-250 pounds, and not in the slightest bit attractive. At first I thought he was just a nice old guy, interested in who this little American girls. He turned on the shitty salsa music that can be bought for less than a blank CD would cost in the States. Occasionally the assistant would tell him to dance, just so he could laugh at our reactions. It was like watching Jaba the Hut dance in an I-never-took-lessons kind of way. But, lest we forget, this was all while the man was driving and whilst Chelsea sat in the windshield and I on the engine box.

But then the guy started getting weird (although luckily not before I got a picture with him, which should be here on my blog somewhere). He just wanted to know my name, where I was from, and then the third question that ALWAYS follows those two requests for information, “tienes novio?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” I really don’t mean to be harsh, I know that you can find the beautiful in everyone, no matter how much their outer-shell does not conform to the common concept of beauty, but I must say that I really do not understand where men like this come from. I don’t know how he pictured the flirting playing out. Why would two pretty (if I do say so myself) young American girls with everything going for them go for a middle-age, rotund, dirty bus driver who can't even dance? I know, it sounds harsh, but I refuse to hold it in until I can get some kind of an answer.

So for the full hour and a half trip to Santa Elena, I was subjected to loud crappy salsa music and bad dancing, plus the advances of a man I found slightly revolting. He even went so far as to say that he could drop off all the people in the bus and Chelsea, the assistant, he and I could continue all the way to Peru and then tell me that I couldn’t leave in June until he and I had gotten married. Only after we were married could I go home. He touched me on the leg and persistently tried to catch my fancy by doing the Jaba the Hut jiggle. Eventually I pretended to be asleep to avoid said dancing spells and having to talk to him (which brought the unpleasant experience of his breath in my face).

Santa Elena could not come soon enough for me. I was ready to get out of there! We were dropped at a stop, not having any idea of where we were or how to get to where we were going. We walked in the intense heat and sun for a while before wisely deciding to get a Coke and look for directions on how we should get to where we were going. As we were walking past what looked like a little old carpenter’s shop, where the little old carpenter was sitting, I thought the 70-80 year old man was so cute! He was missing most of his teeth and the wrinkles on his face told me that he had been through a lot, but smiled the whole time. So I smiled back, which turned out to be a mistake. We walked away from catcalls.

Once we did find where we were going, we were severely disappointed to find that, like most museums around Ecuador, it was closed that day, seeing as how it was a Monday and Mondays are the generally accepted staff’s-day-off day. I was so upset I nearly cried, so instead we walked the long walk to the bus station, where we caught a bus to Guayaquil.

As we got into Guayaquil, which is, by the way, the big port town on the southern coast of Ecuador, I thought things were ugly and dry and I was not looking forward to the stay we would have in the city. Once we got to the bus station, we were given a small taste of the city that we were about to see. The station was nicer than any we had ever been in! They had air-conditioning and stores. It was almost like a mall. Very clean and well-kept.

Our taxi ride into the city to a hotel called Hotel Sanders showed us a little more of the city. There were people everywhere. It seemed that the people of Guayaquil enjoyed being out on the streets far more than the people of Quito do. Our hotel appeared very fancy down at the desk, but the price was good and the rooms were very simple. We dropped our stuff, changed into some more comfortable clothing (Guayaquil seems to be just one big pot of steaming people), and went out to take a look at the city. It was so big! And so clean! But there was a very immediate difference from being in Quito (other than the blazing, muggy heat). The catcalls were almost unbearable. At one point during our stay, we accidentally walked through a group of 6-8 men, who proceeded to make kissing noises in our ears and say the only English words they knew- “hey” and “sexy.”

The beds were so comfortable and we were able to do laundry, although as I was washing my clothes in the sink I looked up and realized that there was a sign just to the left of the mirror asking guests to please not do their laundry in the sink! We did it anyway, and what a good thing we did. We were getting pretty smelly.

We drank coffee, saw parks, held hands with statues, and even got to be in some wedding photos! Okay, so we were background and not supposed to be there, but we’re still little blobs in pictures that two people are going to keep for the rest of their lives.

There was one park in the middle of the city that was known for its land iguanas. For some reason, it was their haven in the middle of the city and there were hundreds of them! We thought there were only twenty or so, as we could only see some here and there on the ground, but then we looked up at the trees and realized that they were lounging in the sun on nearly every branch and in any crevice of the trees! We even got to see two males fighting over the territory of one tree and the female that was basking. Those females. The smaller of the males was actually way more aggressive, probably because he was younger and had more spunk. So he would continually attack the other, biting at his neck and staying in that position as long as possible. But the older iguana never lost it! He nearly fell out of the tree several times, but he never gave up or backed down. I was impressed and rooted him on, all the while covering my head for fear he would fall on it.

Peru Installment 1

Woohoo! It is the first of February. I have a lot to report. Dear almonds, it has been such a busy month! School starts tomorrow and I couldn’t be more unprepared or more excited for it to. I really miss Spanish class. After more than a month without the three hours of practice every morning, my Spanish has severely suffered. I can still string a sentence, but I have not been having much practice on my vocabulary and whatnot. Joy!

So, I am signed up for six classes right now… no way I am keeping all those. I have my Spanish VI, Portuguese II, French I, Meditation in Movement, The History of Women and Economics. I had a terrible Portuguese class last semester, so if I have the same teacher in level 2 this cycle, there is no way I am staying in that class, so I would take French instead. If Portuguese turns out to be okay, I will continue with that and give it priority, since I can take French back in Moscow. But if it does not, I would love to start on French, since that is the next language on my list. My list has to be conquered!

The Economics class would be perfect, if it would transfer over as either 201, 202, or 272. If I could get it for 272, that would be great! It would be REALLY hard to work in Econ in Spanish, but I have this minor that I have not even started on! I need to dig in.

So, since I last wrote, there are things that have happened that MUST be chronicled! I wrote on the first day of the year, posting a re-cap of everything for about two months. On the night of the first, Chelsea and I had tickets on a bus from Quito to Manta. This was an overnight bus and cost $10.

Let me tell you, that afternoon and evening before, I reviewed what I was packing at least 8 times, loading my water bottle with good water, packing tea bags for some relaxing cups along the way. I was checking over our schedule to make sure we had everything arranged, making last minute adjustments, and mostly just stressing about being on the road for so many days.

Chelsea and I met at the bus station at 10:00ish. I was there way early because I was nervous about our tickets. When her family finally pulled up to drop her off, Chelsea tried on my Pumas to make sure they would fit her for the trip, and we said goodbye to her host family. We sat on the steps of the bus station and watched as an old bus pulled into the station. What if we had to be on that bus! It was dirty and smelly and would not be comfortable.

Luckily, another bus pulled in and we climbed on that one. They were going to the same place, but one was for ten minutes earlier. Some people were kicked off the nice, new one to sit on the old one. I had moved up from my assigned seat since no one was sitting next to Chelsea and then someone moved into my old seat. That girl got in a little trouble with the stewardess, so we just kept our eyes down, pretending to be asleep. It worked!

The seats were fairly uncomfy for me, though apparently not for Chelsea. What was the trick for her? After being on a bus for SO long this last month, I have learned that the window seat is the very best because there is always something on your side that you can lean on. Plus, no one is bumping into you from the aisle. So Chelsea slept and I pretended to sleep.

7:00 AM dawned on Manta, a dirty little town that has a stupid US military base. Sorry for all those that enjoy war and the idea of killing other people to resolve conflict, but I find US presence on the shores of Ecuador as disrespectful and assuming. I refuse to be angry at troops, because they only have good in mind, but I refuse to fall into the stupid, “Support Our Troops” trap that calls for war through a false pretense of supporting the men who are willing to die in an effort to “uphold our country’s values.” I support everything about the troops. What I don’t support is the bureaucratic use of troops in a manner of conflict that is uncivilized and out-dated. Does anyone see a shadow of Vietnam in our current conflict? What good came of Vietnam? And what are the people doing to stop this idiocy? I’m included in that. Here I sit, criticizing without providing a solution. I am as bad as anyone. Rant over.

So Manta was a little boring at 7 in the morning on a Friday. The harbor was buzzing, full of men, whose greasy eyes were on us as we looked around. But seeing no reason to stay around, we took a bus to Puerto Lopez, where we could catch a bus to Ayampe, a tiny little one dirt road town where there were multiple hostels for surfer-bums to hang out. The bus was hot and walking was hot, so we stopped and Chelsea had a beer while I sucked on a Coca-Cola. We walked barefoot through the tiny little store/bar by the road and hung in the hammock while we cooled down.

The hostel we had planned to stay at (Finca Punta Ayampe) was at the very end of the dirt road. We walked for what seemed like so long, wanting to stop at every hostel we passed so we wouldn’t have to keep walking, but we persisted and were rewarded. Finca Punta Ayampe was the coolest place we had ever seen! There was a sign to the Recepción, but the bottom floor was open-air with tents set up and a beautiful staircase that said to take off shoes before climbing. When we got to the main floor, we were greeted in such a chill manner that we had no idea who was a guest and who was a hotel worker. The place was like a grown-up’s tree house, with hammocks and bean bags and couches everywhere and stairs to the upstairs rooms (where we would stay) and a deck that looked out to the beautiful and impressively clean beach. We left our bags in our rooms and were introduced to the other guests, which was the part that told us we wanted to hang out here for the rest of our lives. We chilled out in the sunshine on the deck and then took at four hour nap in our room! We were exhausted, but in no way upset at having slept that long. We were tired.

We discovered cockroaches in the bathroom that first night. In fact, one crawled up into the faucet head and then never really appeared again, making it a little creepy to lean our heads into the sink to get water to rinse our teeth after brushing them. We slept well and were up the next day in time to have breakfast and head to the beach.

The waves were phenomenal. I still remember better ones in Costa Rica, but I realize at this point in my life that I might only remember those as being so big because I was smaller. We played for a while in the waves and then came back into shore to read and lay in the sunshine. I hate that I did, but I got majorly burnt on the front. I peeled for at least two weeks, but it was an accident because the old sunscreen I had been using was just crap. I threw it away before I came back, but that was my test for it. And it failed the test!

We went back into the water to wash off the sand. I was playing out in the waves and Chelsea was a little farther in shore. Suddenly she realized she couldn’t get back into shore. Neither could I. The rip tide was taking us out and to the right. I had heard before that if this situation comes about, I should swim parallel to the shore. But if I swam to the right, there were sharp gatherings of rocks where I would have been dashed to pieces. If I swam the other way, I would just be fighting the same rip tide and tiring myself out. Chelsea was crying out and I was fighting to get back into shore. At one point, I was under the water, not able to breathe, thinking this could be the end. I was trying to stay calm so that Chelsea would not panic, but inside, I was screaming. I was fighting with everything I had, trying to use the waves to help.

Luckily, a couple of newly-married Dutch surfers who were staying at the same hotel with us were watching and instructed us to swim parallel, even if it meant towards the rocks. As soon as I did this, the rip eased up and I moved in toward the shore. Chelsea was still trying to fight the tide out of instinct, but slowly she moved in as well. She still cried out and I assured her that I would not leave her, holding out my hand and pulling her in while I had good footing. We walked back in-shore, shaking and affected greatly by what had happened. We were a little embarrassed that we had lost control and had to be instructed on how to get back in, but just thankful that the couple had been there and watching out for us.

With our nerves having taken such a hard hit, we headed back to the hostel and into town for some lunch and water. We wouldn’t go back into the ocean, being thoroughly shaken, but we still enjoyed the rest of the day, talking to some Irish, British, and German chaps at the restaurant we ate at.

Later that night as we were getting ready for bed, we saw a cockroach on the wall of the shower and I said, as I opened my toiletry bag, “I just hope there isn’t one in my bag.” My scream (which the entire hostel heard) told of the shattered hope. Our battle to get it out of the bag and then out of the room was also heard, as we laughed and gave out frightened cries. We finally conquered, getting it to crawl out the window.

The next morning after breakfast we climbed the steep hill to catch a bus to Montañita, another surfer hangout, but this time more geared at the night-life and commercial enjoyment of the beach. I personally enjoyed Ayampe 10x more, but everyone has his or her own preferences. In Montañita, we met up with Jipijapa, a friend from Quito. He was to be teaching us to surf, but with my sunburn, Chelsea's fragile knee, our new fear of the ocean, and Jipijapa’s new tattoo of some sort of wizard, it seemed to be the last thing that we could accomplish. Plus, Jipijapa said he was going to change his shoes and then never returned!

So, instead, Chelsea and I found a disgusting $5 per night per person hotel, we stashed our stuff in an awful room full of used beer bottles, bugs, and cigarette butts that smelled of paving oil. This was not to be our room, but our room was full still of passed-out Argentinians. So we were given the key to this cheaper room (it had a shared bathroom) and were allowed to store our stuff there while out on the beach.

We rented beach chairs and relaxed on the beach for the majority of the afternoon, being visited by Jipijapa and his drug-dealer friend Floyd with the nice set of abs. Eventually Jipijapa said he needed to use the restroom, disappearing and once again not returning. Then Floyd excused himself for the same reason and didn’t return either. We retired, found dinner, drank liquor with scorpions at the bottom of the bottle, and hung out. I got sick for the second time in a month that night and walked around like a zombie. By the time we got to sleep, it really didn’t matter what the room smelled like or what kind of bugs were crawling around in it.