Along Came Ecuador

And here it's been a month since I last posted . . . eh, sorry about that.  First I went with students to do some community and gardening work in Ecuador.  Ten days, and three cities later, I came back to NYC with a nasty, nasty bought of strep.  Two rounds of antiobiotics later, and I'm still under the weather and not rebounded.  I like my MD, he's nice enough, but . . . 150 bones to see him, another round of antibiotics (which 99 percent of women know the over-the-counter cure that goes along with those), and yea . . . I'm hoping a few days of early to bed, lazy evenings, and DayQuil will fix me.  Stubborn, maybe.  Broke from taxes, certainly.  Though, I owed a little less than a third of what I had to hemorrhage last year.  So . . . I feel pretty lucky right now.

Some quick pics of Ecuador for ya, and no . . . there are no pictures of my strep throat.  Though, I did learn you can search strep throat on Instagram and . . . yea, people STOP TAKING PICTURES OF YOUR STREP THROAT! That's nasty people.  Just nasty.

Artisan Market in Quito.  Picked up some jewelry, a leather belt, and my sister has a leather wallet coming her way from there.

Old Town, Quito.  A nice little view.  

Panorama as we left Quito for the the eight hour bus ride to Portoveijo.

 The mask, on the side of the mountain . . .

I'll save you the crazy people video of us coming down that mountain.  

Countryside. 

Waiting in line at the Telefocon.

 Gardening . . . Right before my body failed me.  Oh well. Since I took photos for the group, I think there are about five photos of me all week.  C'est la vie.  And, yes, that's my Minoru jacket . . . in que for blogging next.  It has a few passport stamps now, and since I'm back to normal time wise (even if I feel like a lump of crappy crackers right now) things are happening again.  I will say that I love that jacket, have gotten loads of compliments on it, and one friend tired to steal it.  I threatened to hurt her.

As I paid for my international access to upload pics via Instagram and Facebook, and of course check work emails (since, let's face it never ends and students come with good and bad . . . mostly good), I saw several messages on Instagram about Quito being on a bucket list.  It is a cosmopolitan center, it has breathtaking views, and endless miles of wander to see . . . just remember, that you can't drink the water, be alert for crime (like honestly, you would be anywhere), and be prepared to see poverty in ways that you haven't embraced before.  I've been to Mexico, lived on the US-Mexican border, so . . . I was partially prepared.  

Yes, my thurlows from last summer.  They still fit, and I still love them.  Though, I need to take in the waist (gasp) as there's a minor gap in the back (ahem, I wore a belt in Ecuador to hide that).  And, since my Momma is known to read this blog with a mix of glee, torture, and love I will note that my do-rag is from a quarter fat of fabric she gifted me in 2010 (fyi, I had to wash it twice when I got back it was so dirty).  I also wore a different do rag every day--if you can't tell in this pic, I'm filthy from work--and the locals got a kick out of them.  A young child liked an orange one I had, and . . . well it's in Ecuador on a small child's head.  

Of course, there are many luxuries that Americans--and First World Nations--take for granted.  Things like washers and dryers, drinkable tap water, glass window panes . . . In short, laundry drying outside is not a marker of wealth per se.  Of course, along the drives through the interior you could certianly see the houses built on top of one another, and the wealth verses poor in construction, design, and how well they were standing.  Hot water too.  Depending on where we were depended on hot water . . . Lupus and cold showers is always a mixed bag.  Ice in beverages and hot showers: you look at them differently when coming back.  

I left my gardening gear, feminine products, and over-the-counter drugs behind . . . I'm sure someone at the hotel(s) can use them . . . as they are relatively inexpensive for me, and a small fortune there.  

After planting we toured a banana grove on the same land.  

Views from a work-site.  Sometimes they were difficult to get to.  

A student saw the mangoes, knowing they are my favorite . . . they weren't ripe to eat.  And, ignore how puffy I am here.  I swelled from the second day until about two or so says after I got back.  So much so that the ring I wear on my thumb was on my pinkie.  Eh, that was probably the infection I had.  Oh well, things go on.  In this grove we learned the joy of the cacao bean, which has a soft flesh around it and scores of them are inside a larger bean shaped pod.  That flesh is cooked off, or in our cases sucked off, and used for a delicious treat.  The bean, inside, is them dried, ground, mixed with sugar and becomes the over-the-counter-Valium known as chocolate. FYI, a week and a half later a guide in Belgium would try to tell me that chocolate grows in beans, on a stalk . . . that went over like a fart in church I tell ya.  

After about five days of work, we snorkled one afternoon . . . the girl above was terrified of water.  She got in as I promised I'd hold her hand, and for about an hour I stayed with her (her mostly attached me to me) as we relished in the awe of the water.  Sometimes she forgot to hold my hand . . .  I'm very touched she braved the water and faced her fears.  The day before she watched me teach this girl how to swim in the sulfur spring.  

The boy already knew . . . and that afternoon we swam in the ocean just before sunset.  I taught her the basics of wave riding and swimming parallel to shore.  Of course, later the afternoon of snorkeling, her and I decided to swim the half mile or so from the boat to shore.  Well, then a wave hit us . . . I may or may not have seen my life flash before me, and the ladies working on the beach came and swept us up at we hit sand.  Water is always my thing, sick or well, and there is something to say that when in the water your body doesn't hurt.  Post though . . . yea, when the shaking stopped from being drug on the Pacific floor . . . 

Grenadilla.  Yum.  All I can say is yum.  And yes, juice is a serious business in Ecuador . . . this and any other fruit was fair game.  Juice with every meal, pretty much.  

And two Porto Lopez sunsets.  

Gardening  in communities with little access and often no water, work, some warm sand . . . in the end good things come and go.