Sometime last week I accompanied my language buddy, Ruth, to this hangout sesh at a radio station after classes. She had gone once before, ensuring me that it's just a fun group sitting around and talking, listening to music. Sure, I thought, time to branch out.
As it turns out, we were two girls in a small group of 20-ish year-olds, sitting around round table, in a sound room. Plenty of microphones to go around. The DJ brought us on air, where we would be heard across the globe by anyone tuned in to the Internet station. The topic was First Love. Three of the boys, one sporting a Yankee's hat and a long tattoo down his arm, would be singing (rapping) about Love.
The DJ told the world that they had an extranjera guest today and my brain said AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!
My mouth gave an introduction, I guess, and off the mic went to the next guy.
One by one they began to recount their first loves, or how first love is just an illusion, or how they've learned that being with someone for the sake of having someone doesn't compare to meeting that SPECIAL someone, etc. Things were gettin' real.
The mic gets to me and my brain said AAAAAAAAAH!!!! and I handed it off to the next guy.
I have a hard enough time putting together a grammatically correct sentence in Spanish, let alone an intimate anecdote or a thoughtful lesson learned. This was radio, here, there's no getting by on the cuteness of being a smiley foreign girl. Needless to say I was sitting as though perched on a cactus.
At some point Ruth told the world that Dios is everybody's love, first and foremost and forever after. Oh! Huh. I didn't know that about her. And the rest of the radio agreed to some extent. Huh. Whaddya know. Turns out this is a radio "limpia y diferente" (clean and different) that ties all subjects back to the "gracia de Dios."
Check out some daily Biblical verses on its site at: http://www.rkmradioecuador.org/
So the uncomfortable atheist found a smile on her lips, and the group cheered as the mic came my way again. WELL, I figured I'd never need to see any of these people again, and began to sputter out something about being 15 years-old and and and... I looked back and forth between the kids in the room and the group of adults in the recording room, and found that they were all waving their arms madly at me. One guy with long hair sneaked in and moved the mic closer to my mouth. They hadn't heard a thing.
Well, too late! Off to the next person! I motioned, swinging the mic away. Booooo, they thought. Suck it, I thought back.
My face returned to a normal color shortly thereafter, and my heartbeat followed suit. My tail, however, remained under my butt for a long time after that one.
More than bonding on a deep level, the majority of my interactions with Ecuadorians so far have made me feel emotionally and mentally itchy. This is unfortunate, kinda, but not really. Being uncomfortable is awesome! Only in retrospect, of course. The reality is that nobody else gives much of a shit about you, one way or the other. This is great news, as with this mentality being shy proves pointless and sounding stupid is a type of sound that you hear the loudest.
In this case, in retrospect, the kids around the table were cool, and I would have loved to make a few friends. At the time everyone was just a terrifyingly intimidating Spanish Speaker, and the more fluidly they relayed their messages, the dumber I'd look when I opened my yap.
I'm very slowly but surely starting to react with an inner laugh instead of a sigh at my many points of discomfort. When I first got here I used to think that my confidence would grow alongside my Spanish, but it's been nearly 10 weeks since I first moved to Quito and I ain't a whole lot better in respect to either. I had chosen some arbitrary point in the future when I'd jump at the opportunity to interact with locals with a carefree smile, but this arbitrary future point is always going to be in the future. I will always be making mistakes, I will always sound, to some extent, like a gringa. It's only a matter of not letting the inner AAAAAAAAAH scare you into taking on a different perception of reality.
Furthermore, this is Ecuador. If you do end up sounding stupid, they will laugh at you. But they laugh in the same way anyone from the States would laugh if a friend were to accidentally spray Coke on themselves from their straws. HA! Ya fool! The whole ordeal would probably take up two goodnatured seconds, and then would never be thought about again.
It's only self-conscious little me, a week later, replaying in my head how I mistakenly used the imperfect tense when I should have stuck with the preterite. Well, poco a poco, they say.
And with that, que Dios les bendiga!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Friday, October 14, 2011
photo tour
Now I'm only a week behind!
Too much talking lately, pictures do it better:
The competition was tough for the bebe del día award:
On Saturday we took a $3 taxi from my house to the telefériQo, the cable cars I had gone up at the my first weekend here to get a view of Quito. This time around, however, we had given our lungs enough time to get used to the altitude. Instead of stopping at the mirador, we continued on a tough hike through the páramo to the top of Pichincha.
Too much talking lately, pictures do it better:
 |
| The stadium was packed as Ecuador beat Venezuela in the first World Cup qualifying game for 2014 |
 | |
| Fútbol chants in a yellow world. Our entire section worked together to unfurl the country's flag. |
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| She won. |
 |
| ..but he was cute too. |
 |
| Doggy didn't take any notice of the police surrounding the field. He went for a stroll on the field while the game was in play. |
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| Rolls of what seemed like receipt paper were distributed to act as makeshift streamers. Bombs of the tricolor exploded in the crowd. |
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| 15,406 feet above sea level! Highest I've ever been. |
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| Making friends along the way. |
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| more páramo! My favorite landscape. |
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| Quito in the faraway distance |
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| Caracara circling the summit |
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| the páramo princess lays to rest on a bed of moss |
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| Cityscape |
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Into the wild
September 30 - October 3 I spent the weekend in the Amazon rain forest. For sheer laziness, I'm stealing the intro written by a biologist:
"The Tiputini Biodiversity Station is a logistical marvel. Off the grid and located deep in the Ecuadorean Amazon, it was built in the mid-1990s as part of a partnership between the Universidad San Francisco de Quito and Boston University to support in situ tropical ecology research and education. From its position on the Río Tiputini, along the margin of Yasuní National Park, the camp occupies a strategic vantage point for keeping tabs on a major artery of access to the park, which is the largest reserve in the amazingly biodiverse western Amazon."
As far as the rest goes, I'm mainly stealing poorly written bits from my journal, so bear with me. And, since my camera decided not to function only during those four days, the pictures are stolen from friends of mine who came on the trip.
Friday morning:
Up at 4:45am, and many different modes of transportation later, including a walk, taxi, 20-min flight, taxi, motorized canoe for 2 hrs, chiva (doorless truck with benches) for 2 hrs, boat for 2 more hrs, at long last we arrived to the Tiputini Biodiversity Station at 4:30pm, amidst thunder booming, cannon-like, through our bones, lightning filling the sky, and rain bringing the group of us huddled together in the back of the open boat.
The university offers 4-day opportunities to its exchange students to visit TBS. I came in a snug group of 6, including my one birding friend who noted 20 life-birds (the first time seeing a certain species) within the first day. This probably equates 50 life-birds decorating the journey for me, but I actually ahh'd at probably 6, including a few pairs of blue-and-yellow macaws. Apparently macaws are hunted to sell as pets in the States and Europe, and their illegal smuggling through the airport means only one of every 10 scarlet macaws actually makes it to the pet store. The rest die along the way, wrapped up in tape or otherwise mistreated en route. Most likely, the more awesome the creature, the crazier its journey to the store. Just a little food for thought.
Back to the jungle.
Upon leaving the plane my nose was happily greeted by a wave of thick, warm air. The air in high-altitude Quito is thin, my Kleenex tissues are often a bit bloody, or otherwise filled with some black gunk from the pollution (sorry, guys). The extra moisture in the air was much welcomed, and even the heat was a welcome change.
The first thing I noticed when disembarking from the canoe was the sudden swarm of bugs. What a foreign sight, especially since Quito is virtually barren of ants, mosquitoes, spiders, even.
We really roughed it with the jungle fare--pizza, pancakes, tofu for us snobby vegetarians, and other unmentioned gringo-friendly meals. There were a bunch of other kids from an SIT Tropical Ecology study abroad program there. Their itinerary for the semester includes one week in the cloud forest, one in Galapagos, and one here, along with a project of their own (internship w/ the indigenous, environmental work, etc). It all sounds amazing, but having taken one peek at the pricetag back in March makes me think I can do all of that with thousands to spare! Plus there's some sort of satisfaction in doing it all on your own, anyway.
At 8:32pm, the four of us chicas sharing a cabin were scibbling away in our respective bunks, recording the adventure that had yet to even begin. Buenas Noches.
Rise and shine at 6am. The rigidly set feeding schedule (a bit zoo- or prison-like) had us at the table at 6:30am, noon, and 7pm. We started our morning hike with Jose, my future husband, who proceeded to guide us through all of our explorations that weekend. All of the trail names were named after animals or interesting plant species seen on the trail. We headed out on Anaconda toward a laguna, where an almost jokingly picturesque canoe was left ready to be borrowed and returned. I am directly pasting a post made by Lisa, the madwoman/angel who kept a record of our sightings and/or interactions. It's a bit bird-heavy cuz, well, to each his own, but hohhh man this place was "llena de vida."
Birds
Friday, 9-30-11
Mammals
Reptiles/Amphibians
Caimans
Pitt viper
Tree runner (lizard)
Sapo de riñuelo
Emerald tree boa
Insects
swarms of “confetti”-like butterflies (yellow, white, light green)
Blue morpho butterfly
blue/black/white butterfly, red on outside of wings
green/black/white swallowtail-like butterfly
tarantula
araña loba (wolf spider)
molting grillo
conga ants (bullet ants)
very pretty dangerous centipede
araña tejedora (weaver spider)
araña scorpión
banana spider
Plants
white hollow mushroom called pena de diablo that only lives 1 day
El jardín del Diablo: tree with lemon ants
arbol de tisa, hueso de muerte (fungus on particular tree)
coca
curare: poisonous vine, wood used to make poison darts for blowgun
plant that causes hives/welts
plant that turns your tongue blue
palm used to make our bracelets
rubber tree
matapalo
In the afternoon we headed up 40m worth of stairs to the top of a looking tower, but instead of watching monkeys choose the trees in which they'd rest for the night, we got swarmed in "bichos," aka pesky bugs who enjoy swarming more than actually biting or stinging. I did, however, get stung by a sweat bee, and joined a few of the girls who descended early on the solid ground. Even though my bugspray shower was working, I can only dedicate a certain amount of time being fascinated by far away birds. Sorry fellas.
We embarked on a nighttime boat ride to meet the nocturnal folk. Forever-more-manly Jose flashed a floodlight into the darkness on the sides of the river, and we were met by reflecting night eyes, staring at us from the sidelines. The lamp scanned treetops, river, shoreline, and managed to catch even the tiniest brown bird from across the river. We saw caimen slipping into the water, finally catching sight of one on land. We crept the canoe closer, and in its default move to disappear into water to hide, the caiman trapped himself between the boat and the sand. Gotcha. Silver eyes. Nostrils peeking above the water. A looong mouth. Teeth.
Jose managed to do this again with another guy, much smaller this time. He hopped out without a second thought and snatched'm. We proceeded to take cheesy pictures as we passed the unhappy amphibian around.
The animal wonders continued, but for much of this my eyes weren't following the light. Head tilted back, mouth open at the incredible starscape. Again, compared to smog-central Quito, this was unreal. This far south we see a different set of stars than the usual Orion's belt of Massachusetts. Here there's virtually no human activity-- not even roads reach the Tiputini Station. Ohh, so that's what the rest of the universe should look like.
In the morning it was off to the puentes, a series of four bridges connected by platforms on high trees. Geared up in harnesses, we were instructed to hook our carabiners to steel cables that run along the thin bridges as we bounce along, only to act as insurance to protect our precious gringo lives. The bichos found us once again, this time bringing their waspy friends along.
To return we took what Jose called a secret trail, which apparently only he could see/navigate. To us it just looked like, well, jungle. He grew up further east in the Orient. His mother, he joked, would slap him with a spiney plant (that he proceeded to test on us, giving everyone minor ((and some, major)) hives) when he was lazy. This only goes to show that the rain forest wasn't just learned as a job, but this is the homeland, man.
We ate a piece of coca leaf (yes, as in cocaine) that the indigenous folk use here as a stimulant (no, as in caffeine). We also ate a piece of a liana that is used to make curare-the poison in poison darts! The Huaorani tribe would (still do?) scrape the bark from the vine, prepare the yellow flesh inside by reducing a tea-like substance over a fire. What remains is a thick liquid into which they'd dip pieces of palm stalk. Voila. Then they'd aim for the trees. Soon, however, the monkeys got smart. They'd pull out the darts before the poison could settle in their systems. But alas, the human race prevails. The tribe began to perforate the palm, ensuring the "dart" would break off halway, leaving the curare to seep in its furry victims. This leads to sleepiness, peepeeness and poopiness, until the monkeys finally drop from the treetops to the dirt.
But, I digress. Continuing on with things we put in our mouths:
We spent two minutes "masticando" the inside of another plant with the group, unsure of its consequence until we spat to the ground. Expecting numbness or a strong flavor, we lol-ed when we looked at each other, surprised to find our mouths were completely blue. We now have a picture of 6 gringos sticking out blue tongues.
Lemon ants-yum yum! The other vegetarian in the group said "but I'm a vegetarian," until I licked my finger, stuck it in the branch, and snagged only a few specimen. Certain trees have these little packets in the bark of their branches which the ants like to call home. In exchange, the ants "clean" the entire surrounding area, their formic acid killing every other plant in a 10ft radius. A true symbiotic relationship indeed. This also makes for a quick, easily recognizable, lemony snack!
To the right is an example of the many trees that looked like they were cut'n'pasted from Avatar, sprawled across the rain forest. A milky liquid runs like blood from its trunk when you make an incision, and the roots are so high and grand above the ground they can run for over a kilometer. Apparently the soil in the Amazon is really poor-- only the top 14-23 cm has nutrients for plants because, although there is plenty of organic matter on the ground, the humidity and sheer quantity of plants makes for very quick nutrient uptake. Therefore, these roots take advantage of the top, meanwhile giving the tree the necessary stability. These guys never fall over.
A similar-looking tree bled white as well, but this is the "arbol del condon," as Jose said. The sap dries into a gluey substance, or latex. Ha!
We crossed matapalo's path (literally, a trail named Matapalo) a few times-- this is a parasitic vine that begins growing alongside a tree, slowly wrapping fully around, sucking out its nutrients. The fully grown tree dies, and we're left with a hollow casing, apparently climbable from the inside.
For a good ten minutes on the path, we walked alongside a massive army of ants (a small horde, says Jose, would have 400 million of these 6-legged citizens). Their neatly organized army, carrying cargo at the time, is capable of attacking and consuming snakes and rodents and frogs, together as one organism.
Bullet ants, the biggest in the world, are capable of giving 12 hours of excruciating pain to its victim in one bite. Jose identified a regular-looking tree and instructed the boys to give it a few good kicks to the truck. Out spewed a handful. A small army has 200 of these babies.
In the middle of the path, a pit viper. One of the Amazon's deadliest. He was a little guy, curled up. Aaw, cute.
Floating in life jackets down the river sounds lovely, but every potentially cool animal was "just a bird"- haha, sorry my dear birding friend. We all instantly fell into a vicious cycle of having to pee, not swimming to keep warm because we had to pee so much, thus feeling more cold, thus having to pee even more. I don't know how it happens, but sometimes it feels like the body expends a disproportionate amount of energy warming the bladder. So then, idiot, why didn't you just pee, you ask? Well, apparently there are what were described to me as "little fish" but what I believe is a parasite who, attracted to the stream of pee, swims up your urethra and hooks on.
After an hour, the boat was flagged, we hopped on, pulled over at the nearest sand bank, and really got to know each other as us girls clustered up, squatted, and probably stepped all over each other's pee. Hey, it's the jungle. Hygiene doesn't matter..right?
Huddled for body warmth on the way back. Damn you, skinny friends.
AND TO THE GRAND FINALE. Let's just say the nightlife was wild. Here are the highlights of our creepy-crawly night crawl, stolen from a few friends whose cameras didn't decide to break just for the journey:
Armed with only a dim bulb from a dying flashlight (someone's extra, as I'm the genius who didn't bring a flashlight to the rain forest), I relied on the strong, heavenly flashlight of the girl in front of me to see where to place my feet in front of me. All else was black. Even when the beam of light wasn't directed at the many species of crap-your-pants spiders that we saw, I could feel the life teeming on either side of me, not to mention up, down, behind... Just knowing that there was a whole different crowd roaming the rain forest at night--from the treetops to bushes, to the soil at boot-level, was enough to make me reevaluate my comfort level. There were critters waiting patiently for their prey to take the wrong step, or critters actively prowling for someone slower, smaller, yummier. I don't know what was to my immediate left, and I could only assume that flapping noise was just a bat. While walking, I felt like I flew back in time, emotionally, to when I was five years-old. I used to be sure that since I couldn't see what was in my closet, it was ET, or that creepy ventriloquist from Goosebumps.
This fear of the dark, since then, has been completely lacking in my life, sketchy men in sketchy neighborhoods aside. I was severely uncomfortable at the time, but rational enough to think: okay, this is the coolest thing I have ever gotten the opportunity to do. So, I shut myself up and started to let the spook run through me.
After all, even the cutest jungle animals, like the monkeys and the tamarinds and the capibaras, exist at night, too. Nobody ever thinks about that. Those guys are into daytime and all, but they're not afraid. What's fear when you live in the wild? It's just time to go to sleep, and ignore the other world that passes while the sun is down. Okay, maybe I wasn't exactly in the mindset of a 5 year-old, this may have been a bit too...meta.
Of all of my experiences so far in this country--from mountaintops to music festivals, hospitals to home life, fútbol games to forests in the clouds, I never learned to appreciate an area and a way of life like I did in Yasuní. Granted, I couldn't imagine living longterm in a place where your clothes can hang for hours and remain soaked, the handsoap, shampoo, and conditioner all come from the same bottle, and your closest friends have multiple legs, but this was a glimpse into a world filled with life at every crevice, a world that never sleeps, a world where humans don't reign.
The craziest part of all, though, is that the Yasuni region of the rain forest is in danger, and we are the bad guys. The most informative websites aren't written in English, but check this out:
http://www.sosyasuni.org/en/index.php
I heard an analogy that equated the potential construction of a road through this natural haven to slitting an artery in a human body and letting it bleed. To think that conservation efforts to prevent oil exploitation in one of the few remaining untouched locations on the planet might not prevail is sickening.
"The Tiputini Biodiversity Station is a logistical marvel. Off the grid and located deep in the Ecuadorean Amazon, it was built in the mid-1990s as part of a partnership between the Universidad San Francisco de Quito and Boston University to support in situ tropical ecology research and education. From its position on the Río Tiputini, along the margin of Yasuní National Park, the camp occupies a strategic vantage point for keeping tabs on a major artery of access to the park, which is the largest reserve in the amazingly biodiverse western Amazon."
As far as the rest goes, I'm mainly stealing poorly written bits from my journal, so bear with me. And, since my camera decided not to function only during those four days, the pictures are stolen from friends of mine who came on the trip.
Friday morning:Up at 4:45am, and many different modes of transportation later, including a walk, taxi, 20-min flight, taxi, motorized canoe for 2 hrs, chiva (doorless truck with benches) for 2 hrs, boat for 2 more hrs, at long last we arrived to the Tiputini Biodiversity Station at 4:30pm, amidst thunder booming, cannon-like, through our bones, lightning filling the sky, and rain bringing the group of us huddled together in the back of the open boat.
The university offers 4-day opportunities to its exchange students to visit TBS. I came in a snug group of 6, including my one birding friend who noted 20 life-birds (the first time seeing a certain species) within the first day. This probably equates 50 life-birds decorating the journey for me, but I actually ahh'd at probably 6, including a few pairs of blue-and-yellow macaws. Apparently macaws are hunted to sell as pets in the States and Europe, and their illegal smuggling through the airport means only one of every 10 scarlet macaws actually makes it to the pet store. The rest die along the way, wrapped up in tape or otherwise mistreated en route. Most likely, the more awesome the creature, the crazier its journey to the store. Just a little food for thought.
Back to the jungle.
Upon leaving the plane my nose was happily greeted by a wave of thick, warm air. The air in high-altitude Quito is thin, my Kleenex tissues are often a bit bloody, or otherwise filled with some black gunk from the pollution (sorry, guys). The extra moisture in the air was much welcomed, and even the heat was a welcome change.
The first thing I noticed when disembarking from the canoe was the sudden swarm of bugs. What a foreign sight, especially since Quito is virtually barren of ants, mosquitoes, spiders, even.
 | |
| Funky lizard outside the cabin |
At 8:32pm, the four of us chicas sharing a cabin were scibbling away in our respective bunks, recording the adventure that had yet to even begin. Buenas Noches.
Rise and shine at 6am. The rigidly set feeding schedule (a bit zoo- or prison-like) had us at the table at 6:30am, noon, and 7pm. We started our morning hike with Jose, my future husband, who proceeded to guide us through all of our explorations that weekend. All of the trail names were named after animals or interesting plant species seen on the trail. We headed out on Anaconda toward a laguna, where an almost jokingly picturesque canoe was left ready to be borrowed and returned. I am directly pasting a post made by Lisa, the madwoman/angel who kept a record of our sightings and/or interactions. It's a bit bird-heavy cuz, well, to each his own, but hohhh man this place was "llena de vida."
Birds
Friday, 9-30-11
- Brown-chested martin
- White-winged swallow
- Bat falcon
- Black vulture
- Southern rough-winged swallow
- Osprey
- Cattle egret
- Yellow-rumped cacique
- Lesser kiskadee
- Blue-gray tanager
- Yellow-browed sparrow
- Sungrebe
- Ringed kingfisher
- Tropical kingbird
- Blue and yellow macaw
- Amazon kingfisher
- Cocoi heron
- Slate-colored hawk
- White-banded swallow
- tinamou (species?)
- Common piping guan
- Russet-backed oropendola
- Speckled chachalaca
- Scarlet macaw
- Hoatzin
- Black caracara
- Greater kiskadee
- Greater ani
- Lineated woodpecker
- Red-capped cardinal
- Crimson masked tanager
- Rufescent tiger heron
- Orange-winged parrots
- Scale-backed antbird
- White-fronted nun bird
- White-browed purpletuft
- Blue dacnis
- Yellow-bellied tanager
- White-lored euphonia
- gilded barbet
- Bare-necked fruit crow
- White-throated toucan
- Ladder-tailed nightjar
- Rufous-bellied euphonia
- Red-bellied macaw
- Black-fronted nunbird
- Buff-throated woodcreeper
- Olive-faced flatbill
- Eastern wood-pewee
- Spotted sandpiper
- Cobalt-winged parakeet
- Striated heron
- Amazonian white-tailed trogon
- Red-throated caracara
- Roadside hawk
- White-necked jacobin
- hummingbird (species?) on nest
- trumpeters
Mammals
- Pink river dolphin
- Common woolly monkey
- Long-nosed bat
- other kinds of bats (species?)
- Amazon red squirrel
- Agouti
- Spider monkey
- Squirrel monkey
- Howler monkey (heard)
- Red-mantled tamarinds
- nocturnal monkey
- 2 tapirs
- capibara with 2 babies
Reptiles/AmphibiansCaimans
Pitt viper
Tree runner (lizard)
Sapo de riñuelo
Emerald tree boa
Insectsswarms of “confetti”-like butterflies (yellow, white, light green)
Blue morpho butterfly
blue/black/white butterfly, red on outside of wings
green/black/white swallowtail-like butterfly
tarantula
araña loba (wolf spider)molting grillo
conga ants (bullet ants)
very pretty dangerous centipede
araña tejedora (weaver spider)
araña scorpión
banana spiderPlants
white hollow mushroom called pena de diablo that only lives 1 day
El jardín del Diablo: tree with lemon ants
arbol de tisa, hueso de muerte (fungus on particular tree)
coca
curare: poisonous vine, wood used to make poison darts for blowgun
plant that causes hives/welts
plant that turns your tongue blue
palm used to make our bracelets
rubber tree
matapalo
In the afternoon we headed up 40m worth of stairs to the top of a looking tower, but instead of watching monkeys choose the trees in which they'd rest for the night, we got swarmed in "bichos," aka pesky bugs who enjoy swarming more than actually biting or stinging. I did, however, get stung by a sweat bee, and joined a few of the girls who descended early on the solid ground. Even though my bug
We embarked on a nighttime boat ride to meet the nocturnal folk. Forever-more-manly Jose flashed a floodlight into the darkness on the sides of the river, and we were met by reflecting night eyes, staring at us from the sidelines. The lamp scanned treetops, river, shoreline, and managed to catch even the tiniest brown bird from across the river. We saw caimen slipping into the water, finally catching sight of one on land. We crept the canoe closer, and in its default move to disappear into water to hide, the caiman trapped himself between the boat and the sand. Gotcha. Silver eyes. Nostrils peeking above the water. A looong mouth. Teeth. 
Jose managed to do this again with another guy, much smaller this time. He hopped out without a second thought and snatched'm. We proceeded to take cheesy pictures as we passed the unhappy amphibian around.The animal wonders continued, but for much of this my eyes weren't following the light. Head tilted back, mouth open at the incredible starscape. Again, compared to smog-central Quito, this was unreal. This far south we see a different set of stars than the usual Orion's belt of Massachusetts. Here there's virtually no human activity-- not even roads reach the Tiputini Station. Ohh, so that's what the rest of the universe should look like.
In the morning it was off to the puentes, a series of four bridges connected by platforms on high trees. Geared up in harnesses, we were instructed to hook our carabiners to steel cables that run along the thin bridges as we bounce along, only to act as insurance to protect our precious gringo lives. The bichos found us once again, this time bringing their waspy friends along.To return we took what Jose called a secret trail, which apparently only he could see/navigate. To us it just looked like, well, jungle. He grew up further east in the Orient. His mother, he joked, would slap him with a spiney plant (that he proceeded to test on us, giving everyone minor ((and some, major)) hives) when he was lazy. This only goes to show that the rain forest wasn't just learned as a job, but this is the homeland, man.
We ate a piece of coca leaf (yes, as in cocaine) that the indigenous folk use here as a stimulant (no, as in caffeine). We also ate a piece of a liana that is used to make curare-the poison in poison darts! The Huaorani tribe would (still do?) scrape the bark from the vine, prepare the yellow flesh inside by reducing a tea-like substance over a fire. What remains is a thick liquid into which they'd dip pieces of palm stalk. Voila. Then they'd aim for the trees. Soon, however, the monkeys got smart. They'd pull out the darts before the poison could settle in their systems. But alas, the human race prevails. The tribe began to perforate the palm, ensuring the "dart" would break off halway, leaving the curare to seep in its furry victims. This leads to sleepiness, peepeeness and poopiness, until the monkeys finally drop from the treetops to the dirt.
But, I digress. Continuing on with things we put in our mouths:
We spent two minutes "masticando" the inside of another plant with the group, unsure of its consequence until we spat to the ground. Expecting numbness or a strong flavor, we lol-ed when we looked at each other, surprised to find our mouths were completely blue. We now have a picture of 6 gringos sticking out blue tongues.
Lemon ants-yum yum! The other vegetarian in the group said "but I'm a vegetarian," until I licked my finger, stuck it in the branch, and snagged only a few specimen. Certain trees have these little packets in the bark of their branches which the ants like to call home. In exchange, the ants "clean" the entire surrounding area, their formic acid killing every other plant in a 10ft radius. A true symbiotic relationship indeed. This also makes for a quick, easily recognizable, lemony snack!
A similar-looking tree bled white as well, but this is the "arbol del condon," as Jose said. The sap dries into a gluey substance, or latex. Ha!
We crossed matapalo's path (literally, a trail named Matapalo) a few times-- this is a parasitic vine that begins growing alongside a tree, slowly wrapping fully around, sucking out its nutrients. The fully grown tree dies, and we're left with a hollow casing, apparently climbable from the inside.For a good ten minutes on the path, we walked alongside a massive army of ants (a small horde, says Jose, would have 400 million of these 6-legged citizens). Their neatly organized army, carrying cargo at the time, is capable of attacking and consuming snakes and rodents and frogs, together as one organism.
Bullet ants, the biggest in the world, are capable of giving 12 hours of excruciating pain to its victim in one bite. Jose identified a regular-looking tree and instructed the boys to give it a few good kicks to the truck. Out spewed a handful. A small army has 200 of these babies.
In the middle of the path, a pit viper. One of the Amazon's deadliest. He was a little guy, curled up. Aaw, cute.Floating in life jackets down the river sounds lovely, but every potentially cool animal was "just a bird"- haha, sorry my dear birding friend. We all instantly fell into a vicious cycle of having to pee, not swimming to keep warm because we had to pee so much, thus feeling more cold, thus having to pee even more. I don't know how it happens, but sometimes it feels like the body expends a disproportionate amount of energy warming the bladder. So then, idiot, why didn't you just pee, you ask? Well, apparently there are what were described to me as "little fish" but what I believe is a parasite who, attracted to the stream of pee, swims up your urethra and hooks on.
After an hour, the boat was flagged, we hopped on, pulled over at the nearest sand bank, and really got to know each other as us girls clustered up, squatted, and probably stepped all over each other's pee. Hey, it's the jungle. Hygiene doesn't matter..right?
Huddled for body warmth on the way back. Damn you, skinny friends.
AND TO THE GRAND FINALE. Let's just say the nightlife was wild. Here are the highlights of our creepy-crawly night crawl, stolen from a few friends whose cameras didn't decide to break just for the journey:
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| Saw this weaving spider shoot to a trapped moth at lightning speed, wrapping it up in a cocoon within 20 seconds. He returned to his neutral state, upside-down, in the middle of his enormous web. Video to come. |
 | |
| Triple threat: venomous centipede, wolf spider, and just out of the picture, to the right, a bullet ant. |
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| The top half is the "used" body of this molting insect. |
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| I don't even remember his story but he was BIG |
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| Green tree boa constrictor. The guide was excited, as this was his second time in 4 years seeing a boa |
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| Y'all already know who this is... |
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| Scorpion spider, and that's a biiig tree |
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| Banana spider |
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| Our guide threw down a headlamp for a bit of perspective. This toad is BIGGER THAN YOUR HEAD. |
This fear of the dark, since then, has been completely lacking in my life, sketchy men in sketchy neighborhoods aside. I was severely uncomfortable at the time, but rational enough to think: okay, this is the coolest thing I have ever gotten the opportunity to do. So, I shut myself up and started to let the spook run through me.
After all, even the cutest jungle animals, like the monkeys and the tamarinds and the capibaras, exist at night, too. Nobody ever thinks about that. Those guys are into daytime and all, but they're not afraid. What's fear when you live in the wild? It's just time to go to sleep, and ignore the other world that passes while the sun is down. Okay, maybe I wasn't exactly in the mindset of a 5 year-old, this may have been a bit too...meta.
Of all of my experiences so far in this country--from mountaintops to music festivals, hospitals to home life, fútbol games to forests in the clouds, I never learned to appreciate an area and a way of life like I did in Yasuní. Granted, I couldn't imagine living longterm in a place where your clothes can hang for hours and remain soaked, the handsoap, shampoo, and conditioner all come from the same bottle, and your closest friends have multiple legs, but this was a glimpse into a world filled with life at every crevice, a world that never sleeps, a world where humans don't reign.
The craziest part of all, though, is that the Yasuni region of the rain forest is in danger, and we are the bad guys. The most informative websites aren't written in English, but check this out:
http://www.sosyasuni.org/en/index.php
I heard an analogy that equated the potential construction of a road through this natural haven to slitting an artery in a human body and letting it bleed. To think that conservation efforts to prevent oil exploitation in one of the few remaining untouched locations on the planet might not prevail is sickening.
Monday, October 3, 2011
fine I admit it
I'm a terrible blogger. Sorry guys!
I owe y'all at least a couple of snippets from the past few weeks since I've been ignoring any effort to document my ecuasplorations:
1.) A while back I had a field trip to Parque Cayambe-Coca at Paluguillo, where I began a beautiful and camera-less journey with my Flora y Fauna del Ecuador class. It was an incredible introduction to the "paramo" ecosystem (of mid-high altitudes in the mountainous regions), where we made a 5-hr walking loop along a landscape of rolling golden hills and strangely coral-like plants.
One thing about Ecuadorians-- they LOVE to exaggerate the cold. We were warned that the paramo would be chilly, but I know I made some sort of internal "pfft" noise when I saw that the native students mostly wore tall black rain boots, gloves, hats, scarves--they brought the works. One even brought a puffy winter coat and a bankrobber-style facemask. And still rubbed his hands to create friction.
As it turns out, BRRRRRR. They weren't kiddin'. The rest of the class, us gringos, were for the most part severely under-prepared for the biting wind. Luckily I snagged an extra hat, and after the first hour we had reached a more protected environment. From then on, it was smooth sailing and we were able to enjoy the rich gold-green-rust colors of the landscape. I found myself humming Karma Chameleon to celebrate those hues.
The grassland-dominated area includes plants that have mostly adapted to withstand the frigid wind and low temperatures-- por ejemplo, the grasses were golden because the plant hung onto its dead parts to keep its relatively small, green, living portion warm; the short, coral-ish bushes kept a hard exterior so that its innards were many degrees warmer; nothing grew over a meter tall. There were beautiful lagunas, where some of the cleanest, microbe-free water in the world resides. However, Ecuador still has terrible tap water because the piping is sub-par. Go figure.
The landscape changed a few times as we caught different views of rock formations and lakes, but the last hour and a half was spent concentrating wildly on the mud below us as the rain pelted our jackets and created swamps on the path formerly made of dirt.
Afterward we visited the famous thermal hot springs nearby, pools heated by natural underground magic, a happy treat for sore and frozen feet.
2.) Made the obligatory trip to la Mitad del Mundo, just north of Quito. Big monument, otherwise a bit uninteresting. Lots of hubbub for nahtsomuch.
But we did meet a few furry friends:
Whatever. NEXT!
3.) I spent last weekend (Sept 22-25) at Baños, one of the touristy-est places in Ecuador. Let's keep in mind, however, that touristy places are such for a reason. I did this:
...before going white-water rafting, which I have no pictures of, but which was the MOST FUN EVARRRR. We hit some class IV rapids in an exhilarating trip that left some capsized and others going ADELANTE for dear life. Pictures were sold later on a CD, so those will pop up eventually. It is, after all, all about the Benjamins here.
The next day we went on a hike to see Baños like this:
...that continued on for a few hours until we got here:
...which is a swing that hangs from our destination at la Casa del Arbol:
...which gives a perfect view of Volcán Tungurahua, one of the Big Ten in Ecuador:
...and later in the evening relaxed in the city's namesake municipal pools. They are filled with murky mineral water from the volcanoes (mountains?), which apparently skeeved out other exchange students that we ran into along the way enough that they avoided the baths altogether, but luckily my friends and I are immune to getting cooties from the natives so we went in and had a lovely time. We went twice, neither time when this picture was taken. Once in the afternoon, when all three of the shown pools were open-- the closest pool in the image was a scalding 118F and the other a bit more reasonable. It was dark after the hike, though, so we hit up the pools when they reopened for the night, apparently a great idea that we shared with every other person in Baños. A pool on the lower level was opened instead, and the scalding water poured there instead. On this level, the back pool (blue) still had cold water, and the front pool had the warm water, but the big one shown was empty. Thus about the same number of people shown in the two squished into the front pool.
At first the prospect of jumping into the sardine can of old Ecuadorian men in speedos and millions of laughing (and undoubtedly peeing) children made our exposed bodies shiver even more, but after a mutual "ehh, fuck it" expression passed between the three of us, we embraced our new sardine identities and hopped (rather, gingerly squeezed) in. This turned out to be one of the most genuine experiences thus far-- I shared big happy smiles with the speedo-ers and our interactions between all Ecua-generations was unparalleled.
Everyone shares a love of hot baths. There isn't a whole lot more to happiness.
Baños has a market for sweet-tooths (sweet-teeth?). There were stands upon stands carrying the same sugarcane products, as seen here below. They sold chunks of sugarcane by the gallon-sized bag, and you can just pop a piece in your mouth, bite down, suck, and spit out. The specialty came in the form of taffy, which could be sampled walking down the street, as every store owner was seen beating a huge rope of thick goo at their door.
I also went puenting, which is much like bungee jumping, but sans the "bung." They connected me to a harness and pushed me off a bridge, where I dropped straight down in a FUCKWHYDIDIDOTHIS manner until I began to swing to the other side. They let you swing like a pendulum until you stop peeing your pants, then slowly lower you to the bottom.
All great fun. There are tour operators everywhere, sometimes four to a single intersection, that offer the best deals on ATV rentals, biking, volcano hikes (which are basically a scam, as for the past few years there is no visible lava spewing from the top of Tungurahua), etc. We split up and asked around for the best prices--in the battle of tour operators vs college students we really get down to the dollar.
The minor annoyance of constantly being greeted as pals ("Hola chica, quieres un masaje?" "Chicos! Biking today?") was easily trumped by the fact that the touristy food in Baños was a much-welcomed change from the usual host-family fare. At the international restaurant we ate at (shown below), the dishes were, clockwise, Chinese, Mexican, Mediterranean, & Thai. Pancakes for breakfast, and, oh, excuse me while I take a moment to pretend today's rice was the that same Indian dish I had for dinner the next night...
All great fun.
This is all old news. I just got back from the rain forest today, however my asshole camera decided to stop functioning as soon as we began our 8-hr journey from Quito last Friday. Therefore I will wait 'til some friends upload one of their 280 photos to post again. Tiputini Biodiversity Station is arguably the most incredible place I've been.
Sneak peek:
http://dotearth.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/01/20/a-durable-yet-vulnerable-eden-in-amazonia/
I owe y'all at least a couple of snippets from the past few weeks since I've been ignoring any effort to document my ecuasplorations:
 |
| la vista maravillosa--stolen from a random chick's facebook. |
One thing about Ecuadorians-- they LOVE to exaggerate the cold. We were warned that the paramo would be chilly, but I know I made some sort of internal "pfft" noise when I saw that the native students mostly wore tall black rain boots, gloves, hats, scarves--they brought the works. One even brought a puffy winter coat and a bankrobber-style facemask. And still rubbed his hands to create friction.
 |
| the ocean-like plants. photo not mine |
The grassland-dominated area includes plants that have mostly adapted to withstand the frigid wind and low temperatures-- por ejemplo, the grasses were golden because the plant hung onto its dead parts to keep its relatively small, green, living portion warm; the short, coral-ish bushes kept a hard exterior so that its innards were many degrees warmer; nothing grew over a meter tall. There were beautiful lagunas, where some of the cleanest, microbe-free water in the world resides. However, Ecuador still has terrible tap water because the piping is sub-par. Go figure.
The landscape changed a few times as we caught different views of rock formations and lakes, but the last hour and a half was spent concentrating wildly on the mud below us as the rain pelted our jackets and created swamps on the path formerly made of dirt.
Afterward we visited the famous thermal hot springs nearby, pools heated by natural underground magic, a happy treat for sore and frozen feet.
2.) Made the obligatory trip to la Mitad del Mundo, just north of Quito. Big monument, otherwise a bit uninteresting. Lots of hubbub for nahtsomuch.
3.) I spent last weekend (Sept 22-25) at Baños, one of the touristy-est places in Ecuador. Let's keep in mind, however, that touristy places are such for a reason. I did this:
The next day we went on a hike to see Baños like this:
 |
| View from a 15-ft cross that glows at night--a seemingly divine image from the city streets |
...which is a swing that hangs from our destination at la Casa del Arbol:
 |
| Infamous for destroying Baños thrice-over, the volcano is still unsafe to hike up. Makes for a bonito view of its snowcapped peak. |
...and later in the evening relaxed in the city's namesake municipal pools. They are filled with murky mineral water from the volcanoes (mountains?), which apparently skeeved out other exchange students that we ran into along the way enough that they avoided the baths altogether, but luckily my friends and I are immune to getting cooties from the natives so we went in and had a lovely time. We went twice, neither time when this picture was taken. Once in the afternoon, when all three of the shown pools were open-- the closest pool in the image was a scalding 118F and the other a bit more reasonable. It was dark after the hike, though, so we hit up the pools when they reopened for the night, apparently a great idea that we shared with every other person in Baños. A pool on the lower level was opened instead, and the scalding water poured there instead. On this level, the back pool (blue) still had cold water, and the front pool had the warm water, but the big one shown was empty. Thus about the same number of people shown in the two squished into the front pool.At first the prospect of jumping into the sardine can of old Ecuadorian men in speedos and millions of laughing (and undoubtedly peeing) children made our exposed bodies shiver even more, but after a mutual "ehh, fuck it" expression passed between the three of us, we embraced our new sardine identities and hopped (rather, gingerly squeezed) in. This turned out to be one of the most genuine experiences thus far-- I shared big happy smiles with the speedo-ers and our interactions between all Ecua-generations was unparalleled.
Everyone shares a love of hot baths. There isn't a whole lot more to happiness.
Baños has a market for sweet-tooths (sweet-teeth?). There were stands upon stands carrying the same sugarcane products, as seen here below. They sold chunks of sugarcane by the gallon-sized bag, and you can just pop a piece in your mouth, bite down, suck, and spit out. The specialty came in the form of taffy, which could be sampled walking down the street, as every store owner was seen beating a huge rope of thick goo at their door.
All great fun. There are tour operators everywhere, sometimes four to a single intersection, that offer the best deals on ATV rentals, biking, volcano hikes (which are basically a scam, as for the past few years there is no visible lava spewing from the top of Tungurahua), etc. We split up and asked around for the best prices--in the battle of tour operators vs college students we really get down to the dollar.
The minor annoyance of constantly being greeted as pals ("Hola chica, quieres un masaje?" "Chicos! Biking today?") was easily trumped by the fact that the touristy food in Baños was a much-welcomed change from the usual host-family fare. At the international restaurant we ate at (shown below), the dishes were, clockwise, Chinese, Mexican, Mediterranean, & Thai. Pancakes for breakfast, and, oh, excuse me while I take a moment to pretend today's rice was the that same Indian dish I had for dinner the next night...
This is all old news. I just got back from the rain forest today, however my asshole camera decided to stop functioning as soon as we began our 8-hr journey from Quito last Friday. Therefore I will wait 'til some friends upload one of their 280 photos to post again. Tiputini Biodiversity Station is arguably the most incredible place I've been.
Sneak peek:
http://dotearth.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/01/20/a-durable-yet-vulnerable-eden-in-amazonia/
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