The End is Nigh

This is it. My final post.

In my last days, Paul, Kristen, Lauren, the girls, my family, and Lauren's family all hosted going-away parties on my behalf.

Paul wrote a song and played it. There was cake too.

Lauren's family (all nine of them) sang a song to me about leaving and being missed.



Even Lauren's cat, Miciwawa, got dressed up for the occasion!

Cuyes (guinea pigs) were eaten 4 times in my last 6 days in my honor.

I even made a special trip to Puyo to say good-bye to Thomas!



So I said good-bye to the family with tears in my eyes,

And offered a toast with Lauren to the time I spent here,



And boarded a plane.

I arrived safely in Florida and gave big hugs to Mom and Dad.

After six months, I have returned.

Thank you everyone for sharing in the experience, giving me encouragement when I needed it, and sticking around until I made it back. I look forward to seeing all of you and catching up. It's been real, and bittersweet.

Until My Next Adventure....

Love
Kent

First Aid Fiesta

I made sure that my last weekend in Otavalo was jammed-packed full of activities. As we approach the summer festival, Inti Raymi (it lasts for 3 months, where most of the people do not work and drink every day), there are parties to inaugurate the party season. I had been invited to one in a nearby town called San Rafael. It is one of the biggest and first of the season and thus draws a huge crowd and has a reputation for drunken debauchery. What more could I want with one week to go! I invited my family, Paul and Kristen, Lauren and her family, and anyone else I could think of.

Just as I was getting ready to go, six of Segundo’s friends showed up already drunk with a case of beer. They were all dawning Red Cross jackets, vests, and hats. I inquired and was provided with the obvious answer that they were the local Red Cross contingent, and were preparing to go to San Rafael as well. Within what seemed like a few minutes, they had finished the case and had started to dance. One guy named Humberto announced that he wanted to go and was going to drive. At that point, I jumped in and explained that I would be happy to drive him anywhere, having had nothing to drink. The guys all liked that idea and then apologized for the SUV they had outside. I didn’t understand so went outside to look. They had driven the Red Cross truck to the house. The apology, they continued, was for not having brought the ambulance. As if I had asked for an explanation, two of the guys mumbled something about it being irresponsible to drive an ambulance drunk. “Why would that be a problem?” I replied sarcastically (a form of humor they do not comprehend here which makes it that much funnier). As he obliviously commenced his explanation, I cut him off. “Listen, don’t worry about it guys. I guess I don’t mind if we have to go in the truck.”

That was enough for them, so after some public urination on our front door step by three of the guys, we piled in and were on our way. As most of you know, there are few things more obnoxious than driving sober with a car full of drunks. At literally every crossroad and driveway along the way, someone would yell from the peanut gallery, “Turn here! That’s it.” I knew generally where I was taking them so I was able to ignore them for the most part.

As we approached, there was a line of cars stopped and several policemen turning everyone away. “This is the parade route. You can’t come through here,” I heard one cop yell from up ahead. Noise erupted once again from the peanut gallery, this time with yells of “Where’s our siren?”, “Drive through the roadblock!”, and “Where the hell are we?” (that guy was a little more drunk than the others…). I thought to myself, “there’s something to what these guys are saying,” so I kicked the truck into gear and drove into the oncoming lane holding my horn down. Cars swerved out of the way to avoid me. Some of the guys started to scream like women. And how did the policeman react: he waved me right through. It’s amazing what a sticker on the side of a car can do.

I saw a line of parked police cars and figured that might be a good place to let these guys out. As I was getting out of the truck, one of them turned to me and offered me a Red Cross jacket. “Sure,” I thought, “good for a picture.” Then he handed me his first-aid kit, flashlight, and backpack full of equipment. Before I could ask what he was doing or why I now had everything a Red Cross paramedic should have in my possession, he began a rambling and slurred description of where I needed to go, what I would do if I ran across someone in need of medical attention, and where the nearest hospital was if I had to transport a patient. “Are you joking?” I rebutted. “You guys are supposed to be on duty, and now you want me to take over?” “You got it cousin!” he replied enthusiastically. To be fair, at this point, I was having trouble digesting it all, but was definitely intrigued about the possibility of being a fake Red Cross member at a festival with thousands of people. Sure it’s a little daunting, but that’s what made me agree to do it. “What if one of the cop’s asks what I’m doing?” I asked. “Don’t worry,” he laughed, “they all think Red Cross staff are doctors and doctors are like gods here.” That was all I needed to hear, and I was on my way.

I spent the next two hours doing rounds of the parade and fair grounds, getting interesting looks from everyone, curious about the gringo doc strolling the streets of San Rafael. Both fortunately and unfortunately, the night was uneventful. Everyone was in great spirits and I didn’t run across even a minor flesh wound to bandage up. Oh well.

As the main activities and parade rapped up, I could hear my stomach rumbling over the sounds of screaming revelers and thumping music. I decided to go in search of some food. As I meandered, I noticed a contingent of policemen clustered near the entrance of a local house. Curiosity (and my undeserved position of authority) got the best of me and I went over to investigate. I asked one of the cops what the commotion was all about. He exclaimed, “Oh, you’re working! This is the mayor’s house and all of the police and red cross are supposed to eat here on her invitation. Come on in!” as he hustled me into a backroom full of pig meat, corn, and fermented corn alcohol. I introduced myself to the group and settled into a seat, slowly munching away on my pig skin.

(the mayor and I)

Now being full and appropriately lethargic, I found the guys (still snoozing in a corner), piled them back into the truck and called it a night. A night indeed…

Love

Kent

Ramblings

As my time here draws to a close, I want to share as much of my experience here as possible before this blog becomes history. That means, hopefully, 3 more blogs in 11 days...

Two great anecdotes to start:

Yesterday was ¨Kid´s Day¨. It´s like Mother´s Day or Father´s Day but for kids. As my host dad said, ¨Isn´t every day kid´s day??¨ Regardless, everyone celebrates and it acts as just one more excuse not to do anything in school.

At my host father´s school, the ministry of education decided that a good way to reward the kids and teachers would be with a day at the pool. At 7 in the morning, all 200 kids and 10 teachers walked the half-hour to the nearest pools. I asked my host dad how everything went when he got home yesterday afternoon. His response:

¨It was great, except that no one swam.¨ ¨Why?¨ I asked shocked, assuming something went wrong. ¨Oh, because none of the students or teachers can swim,¨ he replied matter of factly...


Today, we had a patient way out in a community about two hours into the mountains. We were going to pick-up him up for follow-up at the hospital. His mother only spoke Kichwa but we had our friend and driver Joaquin to translate. I was getting strange vibes throughout the conversation from the mother of the boy and her neighbor. They kept shooting me the evil eye. Joaquin at one point started to laugh. He then explained that there was once a gringo man from Spain in this community who had ¨done bad things.¨ The ladies had told Joaquin that they didn´t trust me because I looked evil like that other gringo! At that point, I tried to explain who we were and why I was not evil. No luck. As we parted ways, I received only the evil eye again in response to my Kichwa good-bye.

Ok, now on to some stories with pictures.

There is a weaver in a town next to Otavalo. He is famous among locals and tourists alike because he is one of the last in Ecuador to still weave everything by hand. His name is Miguel, his weavings, which range from wall hangings to hats, are amazingly beautiful and also staggeringly expensive.

He gave me a demonstration one day so I could fully appreciate all the work that goes into making one of his creations. The technique was ridiculously complicated, and tedious doesn't even begin to describe him sitting there 12 hours a day for a month (the time it takes to make one pancho).

That being said, my visit did not involve any shopping whatsoever (a wall hanging costs $200...my conversion here has become the number of Ecuadorian lunches I could buy with the value of any given item; in this case 120, or maybe a more fun conversion is the number of Ecuadorian beers I could buy; in this case 600).

I did try some things on though...

Right near Miguel's weaving house, there is a notorious waterfall called Peguche. The town of Peguche at the base of the falls used to be a indigenous slave plantation. Peguche also used to be an ancient sacred place for the Kichwa during times of celebration. For these two reasons, it is still considered one of the most important sites in Otavalo, not to mention that it is still used for festivals on the four days of the changing seasons.

Speaking of sacred sites, my house is on a hill just down from the sacred tree called Lechero.I have posted about it before, but it has become a routine visit for me. Often with my family and friends, we will hike up to Lechero for a picnic or a game of tag or just to sit and watch the lake and volcanoes.

On the way up, I tend to harass the sheep or whatever other livestock is present. Now that I think about it, I harass the animals I meet everywhere in Ecuador. Maybe there is still something to my previous supposed calling as a veterinarian...

This next picture is of a sacred Kichwa demon...no, just kidding. It's an Iron Maiden (heavy metal rock band from Germany that´s popular in Ecuador for some reason) demon in a cafe in Quito.

On this same visit to Quito, I got my camera back from the repair shop (the one that broke way back in February) and celebrated by taking lots of photos to make up for some lost time. Here's some Canadian pride represented in Quito.


An example of another animal that I couldn't resist hugging. He belonged to a friend of mine who I ran into in the street.

I end up getting stuck babysitting more often than one might guess or than I want. In one situation, my friend Joaquin invited me for lunch with his family. Then, he proceeded to disappear leaving me with his kids for the next two hours. The kids all thought it would be really funny if I put the baby on my shoulders because "then he'll be taller than you" they claimed. The morose expression I have here is actually because I had a sucker in my mouth.

A little ways back, I embarked on a journey North to a region called Chota. It is famous because at some point in history, an entire band of escaped African slaves made their way inland and settled in this valley. As a result, the entire place is African in culture, agriculture, customs, dance, music, and even some language. It is gorgeous and resembles a desert with pockets of lush valley where bananas and coconuts are grown.

It can best be described as some sort of alien oasis. If you didn´t know better, you would have little way of knowing you were in Ecuador.

On the same trip, I travelled further North towards the Colombian border. There lies a partial cloud forest with volcanic hot springs and beautifully preserved forest.

The hostel was so cute, although looked as if it hadn´t received a guest since it was constructed in the late 80s.

The frisky and playful dog made up for any lack of people.


This picture was lost with one of my previous cameras but I got a copy recently. Remember my post from the soccer tournament where I ended up playing in the mud.

I entertained the rural onlookers with my many treacherous slips, slides, and face-plants into the mud. The laundry place charged me triple because they had to run it through the machine three times.

Lauren and I visited the nearby lake for a bit of past-time fun.

We rented paddleboats and took a slow cruise around the lake, perpetually in the shadow of Imbabura (the volcano).

I guess the weight difference between Lauren and I meant that my side kept going under. Luckily, I don´t think there was ever a risk of sinking (not that it would have mattered with the complete and utter lack of sea life due to contamination and dumping by local residents).



We end of playing lots of Monopoly, Scrabble, UNO, and cards (the four games I brought from the States) at my house. They love, I mean a sick obsession, board games. I don´t mind most of the time and it helps my enthusiasm that I usually win.

Kami can´t play normally because she´s a little too young still. That doesn´t stop her from attempting to remain the center of attention.


These are two cute neighbor girls who I walk past everyday going to and from town. One day last week, they spotted my camera that I always carry. Since then, every single time I pass, they ask for a photo to be taken of themselves. I have probably now taken 10 photos of them and explained each time the necessity of smiling. Still, the one girl (guess which one) does not get the concept and continues to look as if I just punched her dog in the face (actually, that doesn´t really bother people here too much).

Lots of Love until the Next Post and until I return mid-month,
Kent

Life´s a Playa

There is no better way to start a vacation than with a good cigar, a stiff drink, and good company. The latest adventure I had on the coast of Ecuador was no exception.

A few weeks ago, Lauren and I decided that we were in desperate need of a break away from our kids at school and our respective families. The coast was to be our destination. The original date set was Thursday, but after much needed patient follow-up, that date was pushed back to Sunday.

The Saturday night prior to departure I invited Segundo, my host Dad, to a cigar and a drink on his roof-top terrace overlooking Otavalo (actually just the unfinished second floor of our house...). He proclaimed excitedly that this would be the first cigar of his life. The tienda attached to our house was out of beers so I bought a bottle of local rum and a couple liters of Coke, because as I explained to Segundo, a cigar is always better with a drink.

I provided the usual disclaimer that goes along with any cigar virgin, ¨Don´t inhale,¨ ¨Go slow¨...

After a good hour of deep conversation and philosophy, the cigar smoke and rum clearly started to go to his head...



At one point, he decided that burning my hand with his cigar might be a good idea (only in jest, I think).

After another half hour, in the middle of a good talk about our respective futures in the world, Segundo stood up abruptly and announced that he was going to throw up. He proceeded to lose his entire dinner (and possibly lunch) over the side of the house onto the front doorstep. He was laughing heartily in between vomiting and telling me how much he hated cigars.

We had to go inside after that and explain to my Mom what had occurred and try to clean his now soiled jacket.

Good last night in Otavalo I´d say.

The next morning, we departed South from Ibarra to Riobamba, a stopping point on the way West to the beach. Cayambe, the beuatiful volcano was showing herself clearly in the distance.


I had been to Riobamba in my previous travels but it was Lauren´s first time. It´s a cute town with not too much to do.

We stayed next to the train station, did some shopping, ate some delicious Italian food, found some nice roasted pig, a goose egg, and called it a day.

We boarded the morning bus to Guayaquil (Ecuador's largest city with 6 million people). We had extremely low expectations for Guayaquil. The guidebooks suggested that it be skipped if at all possible. They recommended, that if you must stay, be careful because there are thieves and muggers abound. It also has a reputation for being poor, run-down, dirty, and not very interesting.

The road to the coast was gorgeous as we dropped from 9000 feet to 500 feet in 6 hours (supposed to be 4 hours but there was construction and no one was in any particular hurry.


Our first impressions were the opposite. The city was huge, but beautiful and resembled any coastal American city. Skyscrapers, hustle and bustle, not to mention the nicest bus terminal I have ever seen anywhere. It was like Charlotte airport but in the Caribbean.

We found a really cheap hotel in the nicest area of town and although Lauren still seemed apprehensive, I was anxious to explore that night and the next morning. We had a great seafood dinner and a couple of drinks on the boardwalk, enjoying the evening breeze. I could not have felt more safe with police and security all around and everyone having a great time, laughing, singing, eating, and drinking. The next morning we went back to the boardwalk to get a good view of the water and the city.

We were both thoroughly impressed at this point and I felt a little guilty for believing what everyone had told me without knowing firsthand. That being said, supposedly the mayor of Guayaquil has spent hundreds of millions of dollars cleaning up certain areas of the city over the past 8 years. Before that, I have found no one with a good thing to say. A lot of money can go quite a long way...

After the boardwalk, we needed to do some last minute shopping for some coastal necessities (ex: I had no shorts, no sunglasses, and no sandals).

We made our way to market ready to drive some hard bargains. I found a shorts stand pretty quickly and without changing rooms within a couple hundred miles, I changed right there.

Definitely drew a crowd by being the gringo in underwear in the middle of the market but I'm not too shy.

After some shopping, I decided to climb a banyon tree in the middle of the business district. That may have drawn some looks as well.

That was that. Our destination was the coast, not Guayaquil as Lauren reminded me. Off we went.

Our first stop was Salinas, a popular beach destination for wealthy foreigners and Ecuadorians. It's a sleepy town in the off-season (April-October), which also keeps things quieter and cheaper. We were able to get a beach front suite with an ocean view for $15, not bad.

We immediately got into our suits and ran into the colder than ideal ocean for a dip. The sun was out and the beach belonged to us (and the occasional harassing craft vendor). We once again indulged in a seafood dinner (excellent, fresh and inexpensive) and then strolled the boardwalk.

The following morning, we had a dismal breakfast that was more oil and butter than food but we learned our lesson about trying to scrimp to save a dollar. We decided to see the whole city. Besides the beach, it was just condo towers and vacation homes. The most eventful part of the day was when Lauren was picking up shells and got stung by a bee who had made one of the shells his home.

We hopped back on a bus and headed North to the next beach town.

The guide books touted Montanita as one of the best surfing and partying destinations on the coast of Ecuador. We got off the bus and were immediately unimpressed. Only after lunch and a stroll did we discover that we had jumped off the bus on the wrong side of town. The city was oddly touristy and jam-packed with funky hostels, bars advertising cheap shots and happy hours, and gringos galore.

Before we had even found a place to stay, a guy ran up to Lauren and gave her a hug. They were both in shock as they explained to me that they had gone to high school together in Hawaii and hadn't seen each other since. Small world, to say the least. We found a cheap nice hostel with private cabanas, but before we could party, I had to finish my final paper of my Master's program to graduate. The hammock made a good office.

I submitted the paper before having anything to drink (that's the truth Dr. Strack and Dr. Aronson), and then grabbed a beer on the street to celebrate. We met up with Lauren's friend and his Peruvian classmate for drinks.

I shared some of my cigars with the guys, and one thing led to another. Before you know it, we were taking flaming shots.

Bad idea from someone who has spent the past 6 months growing a beard and mustache. In true Karmic fashion, I lit my mustache on fire and spilled the shot on my shirt. Luckily, Lauren decided to embarass herself as well as she accidently poured the shot on her feet (which stayed lit amazingly).

Lesson learned I hope...

The next morning, Lauren offered to give me free surfing lessons. The waves were good, and not too big. Good for a beginner. I got the hang of it pretty quick and was up within the hour.

After about 2 hours, we grabbed some pina coladas and ice cream for the road and hopped on the next bus North.


Next stop was a cabana resort on a hill overlooking the ocean.

It was gorgeous and we had the place to ourselves. I was feeling good and took some pictures with the room's artwork.

After a tiring morning of surfing and bus travel, we thought that a night in the nearby fishing town of Puerto Lopez for some more delicious seafood would be perfect. We didn't site-see or stay long because we heading there the next afternoon for the night.

We followed it with a night on the porch listening to the ocean, sipping some rum and peach juice.

We cooked our own breakfast at the hotel the next morning, and then decided a nap on the beach was in order (which was a mistake in retrospect, seeing as we both got burned pretty badly).

All that lounging built up an appetite and we were told to visit the only restaurant within 5 miles. The restaurant was a ship that a crazy Swiss guy had built a few years back.

I decided that I was the captain...

The food was incredible, but a little messy so I improvised with my hands in places of utensils.

An iguana watched us eat from one of the hotel palms.

The shrimp was so good that I needed a picture, even if it was just of the empty shells.

Our bellies now sufficiently full of ocean goodness, we took the short bus-ride to Puerto Lopez.

It's a simpler town, mostly dependent on local fishermen.

They recently gained a bit of tourist trade and have adapted with odd diversions, like this Ecuadorian rickshaw for example.

Our cabana was really cute, really cheap and maybe 100 feet from the beach.

We awoke early the next morning hoping to catch a glimpse of their seafood market.

It may look busy in this photo, but most these guys were doing a whole lot of nothing. Gossip and low work ethic being Ecuadorian traditions, these guys were as traditional as they come.

I did find one guy actually engaging in commerce.

Our last night was to be spent in Manta, it being the starting point of the buses heading back to Quito and Otavalo. Once again, the guidebooks were unnecessarily cruel. It was a pretty oasis on the beach surrounded by desert.

It actually reminded me somewhat of Naples, Fl. Wealthy, sufficiently built-up but still tranquil.

For our last night (and in honor of my graduation), Lauren treated us to a sushi dinner at the poshest hotel in Manta. The fish was superb, and we even splurged for some Sake.

On our way to the terminal the following morning, we were reminded of the recent swine flu outbreak that had taken place in Guayaquil. This property owner figured this graffiti might keep him safe...

Our bus back to Quito was to be 10 hours. Oddly, no one else seemed to want to leave Manta or the coast.

Don't know that I can blame them...

Love from a freshly tanned (although slightly burnt) Kent