where is everyone? i know my blog´s gotten kinda boring... but if no one is reading then there´s no point in me writing everything by computer...
grand vote... shall the blog continue? if you wish to keep reading my ecuador chronicles, make like the whos that horton heard... leave a comment saying "we are here"... five "we are here"s from different people (not jessica five times in a row!) and the blog continues....
... cuz people are people no matter how small... :)
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
La Costa - Puerto Lopez boobies and Montañita surfing
After descending from the Andes, through the cloud forest, and through countless banana plantations, I arrived on the coast, where I stayed Monday night, just for the night, in the big city of Manta. I managed to catch a movie in English there, since I was bored at night, I ate Kentucky Fried Chicken and watched "You, Me, and Dupree."
The next day dawned hot and sticky. I wasn´t in the mountains anymore, Dorothy. One morning I awaken shivering under thick wool blankets and my flowing poncho. The next morning I am sweating in the coastal humidity, swarmed by malaria-infested mosquitos. From Manta, I had a little adventure to buy Mark´s Christmas present so I can´t say what I did but it was very cool.
Then I caught a bus to Puerto Lopez. In the morning, Wednesday, I went with a tour group to the Isla de la Plata. They call it the poor man´s Galapagos because it has the same birds as Galapagos but only costs 30 bucks instead of 1500. No lizards or sea lions. But lots of boobies... blue-footed boobies, that is!! It was so cool. You could just walk right through them, and they weren´t scared and didn´t move one inch. The young have gray feet and are very fuzzy and fat. After a few years, they get browner feathers and their feet turn blue because of some weird genetic code. This was the first tour I´ve actually paid for since October! but it was the only way to get to the island. We had a very rough two hour ocean ride in a small boat to get there and back. After seeing the birds, I went snorkeling and saw tons of brightly colored tropical fish.
On Thursday, I went to another part of the same national park, the Parque Nacional Machalilla. I went to the beach called Los Frailes, one of the most pristine beaches of Ecuador, where I enjoyed the afternoon by getting horribly sunburnt because I was an idiot and didn´t use sunscreen.
Then, bus to Montañita. Montañita is a world famous surfing town. But it is full of surfers, that is to say, idiot drug addicts and tripping foreigners. The people are very bad, and the town would have been a nice little beach town but for all the bad people. The upside was that I learned how to surf on Friday. It´s actually a lot easier than it looks, but I was severely injured throughout my surfing experience because of the whole-body sunburn that made squirming around on a soggy board more than unpleasant. But... I can now surf!!! So... I guess it was worth it. Then, a guy I knew, who was an indigenous guy from the jungle went all ape-poop on me. His grandmother died, and he was trying to kill himself... so I did not sleep Friday night, as I tried to convince him in Spanish that he didn´t want to stab himself... Argh!
Because I was sunburnt, a bit sick, travel weary, tired of suicidal acquaintances, exhausted, and lonely, I was ready to return to Baños for Christmas. What I was not ready for was 15 hours on horribly crowded, stinky, loud buses. From Montañita to Salinas to Guayaquil to Riobamba to Ambato. I could barely walk by the time I got to Baños, and my feet had swollen to twice the normal size from mosquito bites! I had some horrible reaction, and they went all numb.
I stumbled into Baños Saturday night, almost falling over with the weight of my backpack. That night... I fell asleep in about two seconds...
The next day dawned hot and sticky. I wasn´t in the mountains anymore, Dorothy. One morning I awaken shivering under thick wool blankets and my flowing poncho. The next morning I am sweating in the coastal humidity, swarmed by malaria-infested mosquitos. From Manta, I had a little adventure to buy Mark´s Christmas present so I can´t say what I did but it was very cool.
Then I caught a bus to Puerto Lopez. In the morning, Wednesday, I went with a tour group to the Isla de la Plata. They call it the poor man´s Galapagos because it has the same birds as Galapagos but only costs 30 bucks instead of 1500. No lizards or sea lions. But lots of boobies... blue-footed boobies, that is!! It was so cool. You could just walk right through them, and they weren´t scared and didn´t move one inch. The young have gray feet and are very fuzzy and fat. After a few years, they get browner feathers and their feet turn blue because of some weird genetic code. This was the first tour I´ve actually paid for since October! but it was the only way to get to the island. We had a very rough two hour ocean ride in a small boat to get there and back. After seeing the birds, I went snorkeling and saw tons of brightly colored tropical fish.
On Thursday, I went to another part of the same national park, the Parque Nacional Machalilla. I went to the beach called Los Frailes, one of the most pristine beaches of Ecuador, where I enjoyed the afternoon by getting horribly sunburnt because I was an idiot and didn´t use sunscreen.
Then, bus to Montañita. Montañita is a world famous surfing town. But it is full of surfers, that is to say, idiot drug addicts and tripping foreigners. The people are very bad, and the town would have been a nice little beach town but for all the bad people. The upside was that I learned how to surf on Friday. It´s actually a lot easier than it looks, but I was severely injured throughout my surfing experience because of the whole-body sunburn that made squirming around on a soggy board more than unpleasant. But... I can now surf!!! So... I guess it was worth it. Then, a guy I knew, who was an indigenous guy from the jungle went all ape-poop on me. His grandmother died, and he was trying to kill himself... so I did not sleep Friday night, as I tried to convince him in Spanish that he didn´t want to stab himself... Argh!
Because I was sunburnt, a bit sick, travel weary, tired of suicidal acquaintances, exhausted, and lonely, I was ready to return to Baños for Christmas. What I was not ready for was 15 hours on horribly crowded, stinky, loud buses. From Montañita to Salinas to Guayaquil to Riobamba to Ambato. I could barely walk by the time I got to Baños, and my feet had swollen to twice the normal size from mosquito bites! I had some horrible reaction, and they went all numb.
I stumbled into Baños Saturday night, almost falling over with the weight of my backpack. That night... I fell asleep in about two seconds...
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Quilotoa
From Chugchilán, I was lucky. It was Sunday. Usually the only bus to Quilotoa runs at 4 am, but since it was market day there was a 9 am bus. As this is Latin America, the 9 am bus left at 10, after a debacle in which they decided the pigs running around on the roof of the bus might fall off as we careened around steep cliffs... In the end the pigs were evicted, lowered down by the legs rather harshly from their rooftop seats, where they had been making an ungodly racket.
I arrived at Quilotoa, a beautiful lake in a volcanic crater hours from any big towns, and a local family convinced me to give them 6 bucks for dinner, a bed, breakfast, and their company...
I hiked down to the bottom of the crater. The water is incredible, and over the rim I could see the Ilinizas and the base of Cotopaxi, as its top was obscured by clouds. Unbelievable. At the bottom, sheep look at me curiously and a llama munches on the scrubby green grass. A man tried to convince me to pay 5 dollars for a horse to take me back to the top. But I refuse. I am strong, and 5 dollars is a lot of money.
Mistake! The climb was incredibly difficult. I was put to shame by two boys hopping along with two cows up the trail, bringing them in from a day of grazing. They constantly beg me for gifts, candy, and money as we trudge together up the cliff over the next hour. I admonish them in Spanish. Stupid tourists have learned that throwing candy and money at indigenous kids is a good way to get them to pose for pictures, etc. And it disgusts me. Like the people are a pretty part of the landscape or something... Therefore, I take very few pictures of people. Only people I know, or people who ask me to take their picture because they like to see it afterwards in the little screen.
Then I take the long journey to the coast... Puerto Lopez and Montañita.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Days in the Andean páramo
Saquisilí market
I wind between pigs and sheep, feeling ridiculous with my huge backpack and out-of-place white skin, but everyone ignores. They are too busy bargaining over the price of this llama or that cow. I am shocked when two ladies next to me agree on a price for a few pigs, pick them up, and throw them unceremoniously into a potato sack as though they were vegetables from the grocery store. Meters away, a man is hauling another pig, one bigger than me, into the back of his truck by its hind legs as it squeals loudly in protest.
The Saquisilí Thursday market is the largest indigenous market in the region, and I don´t see any foreigners around enjoying the spectacle. After watching the animal market as the clouds gathered around the snow-capped Cotopaxi volcano in the distance, I make my way to the tapestry and jewelry vendors, bartering for a few ridiculously inexpensive souvenirs. I have some time before the bus to Isinliví leaves so I grab an almuerzo of soup, chicken, and rice. My soup is filled with chicken feet, one food I still am not quite delighted to find on my plate.
Isinliví
The one daily bus to Isinliví is filled with Quichua campesinos returning to their farms from the market. The road narrows as we climb higher into the Andes. The hairpin curve is so tight, the bus must reverse in the middle of the curve, back wheels spinning on the very edge of a precipice. I actually stand up in panic, ready to attempt an impossible dash to safety should the vehicle plummet into oblivion. The two women across from me laugh hysterically.
¨I get nervous,¨ I explain, smiling back, knowing how humorous it must be for them to watch my facial expressions alternating between consternation and sheer terror. They smile, some of their teeth rimmed in gold, their faces brown and leathery under their European-looking homburg hats. The women are wrapped in shawls and wear velvety knee-length skirts. And I know underwear is impractical… it makes peeing in the fields more awkward.
I wear pants and hiking boots. And funny-looking piercings.
About two hundred people live in Isinliví. I disembark, drop my backpack off at the hostel, and hike up to a little hill beyond the village. I walk past pigs and sheep and nervous schoolgirls who giggle as I pass by. The view is incredible. Below me lies the Toachi River Canyon, like a canyon in the Colorado Rockies, but greener and wider. I eat grapes and enjoy the view until the rain starts. Shuddering under my thick poncho, I hurry to the warmth of the stove in the hostel.
Llullu Llama Hostal is run by Jose Luis, a Quichua guide, and his Dutch girlfriend, Katrien. They are incredibly amiable, and we spend quite the night chatting away in Spanish and English. The kitten, Rumi (Quichua for rock), pounces from lap to lap as we pass the time. Katrien and Jose Luis invite me to the local school presentation after mass the next day.
One class presents a traditional dance, the boys awkward under their long red ponchos and the girls dazzling in their fluorescent skirts. Two boys put on a play as a cautionary tale about an ¨Indian¨ who goes to Guayaquil, the big city, leaving his indigenous ways in search of work and money… only to end up a pot-smoking thief. The boys are absolutely hilarious, though, and we laugh until we almost pee. Example..
Policeman, You´re smoking marijuana! That goes against the law!
Indian boy, No it doesn´t!
Policeman, What?
Indian boy, It goes against the throat!
We are the guests of honor, and they decide that we will be the official judges of the who-made-the-best-manger contest. The second graders, with their Christmas lights and moss-covered manger, are the winners, especially since the sixth grade baby Jesus had gone AWOL.
Outside sit two ¨Añosviejos¨ (Old Years), scarecrows dressed up like old men to represent the old year. They will burn these effigies at night to represent the passing of the old year and their preparation for a new beginning. The sixth graders begin dancing, and the pull one Añoviejo out of the chair to join the dance. We think they are dragging the scarecrow along, until the Añoviejo starts dancing by himself! There was a boy inside the whole morning! Waiting, not moving… it was the grand surprise the sixth graders and their teacher had planned. Women scream, men laugh, we clap our hands, amazed and impressed.
The teachers give Jose Luis a cuy, a dead guinea pig, to thank him for our attendance. The cuy will be dinner tonight, the thick meat strange but juicy.
Trekking the Rio Toachi Canyon
The next morning I leave with detailed instructions and a rough map, planning my backcountry hike to Chugchilán. My pack is heavy and the hike will take most of the day. As I climb in and out of ridges, the pack pulls at my shoulders and my head spins from the altitude. The trails take through fields of sheep, pigs, cows, horses, and llamas. I stop to re-pack my bag, moving the heavy books to the bottom where the weight will be placed more on my hips. Three children stare at me unabashedly during this entire process, looking at each other wide-eyed to my friendly questions in Spanish. A couple passes, urging a reluctant horse across a river. Farmers harvest their plants from impossibly steep cliff sides.
I cross a ridge to find the River Toachi Canyon sprawled out below me, amazingly beautiful. I have to make it to the bottom of the canyon then climb back out the other side. Resigned, I chug some water and begin the steep descent, half falling through gravelly tunnels as my balance is affected by the heavy backpack that is slowly killing my back. Suddenly, a vicious dog rounds the corner, barking and growling. I grab a handful of rocks, ready to beat it off. Most dogs in Ecuador are not like the cute little puppies we are used to. They are vicious, sometimes rabid, animals, ready to bite and mangle with little warning. The standard defense is throwing rocks.
The dog´s owner appears, a young man wielding a machete. For the first time, I am very alert. He´s a strong man with a weapon and a dog, and I am a tiny foreign woman weighed down by my pack, sick with altitude, and very exhausted. We are three hours from the nearest town. But all is well. He calls the dog off and points me to a faster route to the river. He is friendly enough, but I breathe easier once I reach farmland again in the valley. At the river is a wobbly suspension bridge with no rails. I cross it after my lunch of crackers and water at the riverside. After the river, I climb to a blue and white church in Itaulo. I would say the town of Itaulo, but there is no town, just a chuch. Then, I enter Hell.
The trail out of the canyon is a set of incredibly steep switchbacks. I am bent double under my backpack, cursing myself for bringing my books, heavy heavy books, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. I cannot even stop for water, fearing that upon straightening up, I will topple backwards. A man passes me, trotting by rapidly… on horse. I want a horse!
At the top of the cliff, a man is harvesting corn. We exchange greetings and chat as I catch my breath. I turn to his wife, but she only grins at me. She doesn´t speak Spanish.
After a day of lonely trekking through the high Andes of the Quichua, I arrive in Chugchilán, a tiny village.
¨You carried this all the way from Isinliví?¨ the hostal owner´s son asks, taking my bag to help me inside. He is impressed.
I want to hike to Quilotoa the next day, but my body hurts from the hard trek I´ve already made it endure…. Quilotoa entry to follow….
I wind between pigs and sheep, feeling ridiculous with my huge backpack and out-of-place white skin, but everyone ignores. They are too busy bargaining over the price of this llama or that cow. I am shocked when two ladies next to me agree on a price for a few pigs, pick them up, and throw them unceremoniously into a potato sack as though they were vegetables from the grocery store. Meters away, a man is hauling another pig, one bigger than me, into the back of his truck by its hind legs as it squeals loudly in protest.
The Saquisilí Thursday market is the largest indigenous market in the region, and I don´t see any foreigners around enjoying the spectacle. After watching the animal market as the clouds gathered around the snow-capped Cotopaxi volcano in the distance, I make my way to the tapestry and jewelry vendors, bartering for a few ridiculously inexpensive souvenirs. I have some time before the bus to Isinliví leaves so I grab an almuerzo of soup, chicken, and rice. My soup is filled with chicken feet, one food I still am not quite delighted to find on my plate.
Isinliví
The one daily bus to Isinliví is filled with Quichua campesinos returning to their farms from the market. The road narrows as we climb higher into the Andes. The hairpin curve is so tight, the bus must reverse in the middle of the curve, back wheels spinning on the very edge of a precipice. I actually stand up in panic, ready to attempt an impossible dash to safety should the vehicle plummet into oblivion. The two women across from me laugh hysterically.
¨I get nervous,¨ I explain, smiling back, knowing how humorous it must be for them to watch my facial expressions alternating between consternation and sheer terror. They smile, some of their teeth rimmed in gold, their faces brown and leathery under their European-looking homburg hats. The women are wrapped in shawls and wear velvety knee-length skirts. And I know underwear is impractical… it makes peeing in the fields more awkward.
I wear pants and hiking boots. And funny-looking piercings.
About two hundred people live in Isinliví. I disembark, drop my backpack off at the hostel, and hike up to a little hill beyond the village. I walk past pigs and sheep and nervous schoolgirls who giggle as I pass by. The view is incredible. Below me lies the Toachi River Canyon, like a canyon in the Colorado Rockies, but greener and wider. I eat grapes and enjoy the view until the rain starts. Shuddering under my thick poncho, I hurry to the warmth of the stove in the hostel.
Llullu Llama Hostal is run by Jose Luis, a Quichua guide, and his Dutch girlfriend, Katrien. They are incredibly amiable, and we spend quite the night chatting away in Spanish and English. The kitten, Rumi (Quichua for rock), pounces from lap to lap as we pass the time. Katrien and Jose Luis invite me to the local school presentation after mass the next day.
One class presents a traditional dance, the boys awkward under their long red ponchos and the girls dazzling in their fluorescent skirts. Two boys put on a play as a cautionary tale about an ¨Indian¨ who goes to Guayaquil, the big city, leaving his indigenous ways in search of work and money… only to end up a pot-smoking thief. The boys are absolutely hilarious, though, and we laugh until we almost pee. Example..
Policeman, You´re smoking marijuana! That goes against the law!
Indian boy, No it doesn´t!
Policeman, What?
Indian boy, It goes against the throat!
We are the guests of honor, and they decide that we will be the official judges of the who-made-the-best-manger contest. The second graders, with their Christmas lights and moss-covered manger, are the winners, especially since the sixth grade baby Jesus had gone AWOL.
Outside sit two ¨Añosviejos¨ (Old Years), scarecrows dressed up like old men to represent the old year. They will burn these effigies at night to represent the passing of the old year and their preparation for a new beginning. The sixth graders begin dancing, and the pull one Añoviejo out of the chair to join the dance. We think they are dragging the scarecrow along, until the Añoviejo starts dancing by himself! There was a boy inside the whole morning! Waiting, not moving… it was the grand surprise the sixth graders and their teacher had planned. Women scream, men laugh, we clap our hands, amazed and impressed.
The teachers give Jose Luis a cuy, a dead guinea pig, to thank him for our attendance. The cuy will be dinner tonight, the thick meat strange but juicy.
Trekking the Rio Toachi Canyon
The next morning I leave with detailed instructions and a rough map, planning my backcountry hike to Chugchilán. My pack is heavy and the hike will take most of the day. As I climb in and out of ridges, the pack pulls at my shoulders and my head spins from the altitude. The trails take through fields of sheep, pigs, cows, horses, and llamas. I stop to re-pack my bag, moving the heavy books to the bottom where the weight will be placed more on my hips. Three children stare at me unabashedly during this entire process, looking at each other wide-eyed to my friendly questions in Spanish. A couple passes, urging a reluctant horse across a river. Farmers harvest their plants from impossibly steep cliff sides.
I cross a ridge to find the River Toachi Canyon sprawled out below me, amazingly beautiful. I have to make it to the bottom of the canyon then climb back out the other side. Resigned, I chug some water and begin the steep descent, half falling through gravelly tunnels as my balance is affected by the heavy backpack that is slowly killing my back. Suddenly, a vicious dog rounds the corner, barking and growling. I grab a handful of rocks, ready to beat it off. Most dogs in Ecuador are not like the cute little puppies we are used to. They are vicious, sometimes rabid, animals, ready to bite and mangle with little warning. The standard defense is throwing rocks.
The dog´s owner appears, a young man wielding a machete. For the first time, I am very alert. He´s a strong man with a weapon and a dog, and I am a tiny foreign woman weighed down by my pack, sick with altitude, and very exhausted. We are three hours from the nearest town. But all is well. He calls the dog off and points me to a faster route to the river. He is friendly enough, but I breathe easier once I reach farmland again in the valley. At the river is a wobbly suspension bridge with no rails. I cross it after my lunch of crackers and water at the riverside. After the river, I climb to a blue and white church in Itaulo. I would say the town of Itaulo, but there is no town, just a chuch. Then, I enter Hell.
The trail out of the canyon is a set of incredibly steep switchbacks. I am bent double under my backpack, cursing myself for bringing my books, heavy heavy books, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. I cannot even stop for water, fearing that upon straightening up, I will topple backwards. A man passes me, trotting by rapidly… on horse. I want a horse!
At the top of the cliff, a man is harvesting corn. We exchange greetings and chat as I catch my breath. I turn to his wife, but she only grins at me. She doesn´t speak Spanish.
After a day of lonely trekking through the high Andes of the Quichua, I arrive in Chugchilán, a tiny village.
¨You carried this all the way from Isinliví?¨ the hostal owner´s son asks, taking my bag to help me inside. He is impressed.
I want to hike to Quilotoa the next day, but my body hurts from the hard trek I´ve already made it endure…. Quilotoa entry to follow….
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Let the adventures resume...
Several updates. For everyone who has been bored by this blog of "nothing´s happening... applying to grad school...," I have news...
News flash number 1: UCLA and Berkeley applications officially done, submitted, paid for, finiti, terminadas, I´m in the applicant pool!
News flash number 2: This isn´t probably nearly as exciting to you all as it is to me, but I have spent 35 dollars on the past week of lodging and almost no (and I mean almost zero!) money on food. "How?" you ask. I´m that good... and i am in some place where they let me slide by for 5 bucks a night. I have discovered that 50 cents of empanadas makes a good budget lunch... if only I didn´t have to apply for grad school, this would have been an incredibly cheap week, which makes me happy as I watch my dwindling bank account.
News flash number 3: I am traveling!! Hard core! I turned in my applications, there was nothing left for me in Baños, unless you count guys muttering jokes about my Spanish while watching old dubbed movies in the tourist agencies... so I headed to Latacunga...
I plan on spending the next several days in the mountains west of Latacunga, hiking and trekking in rural communities with no Internet or phones. I have to meet other trekkers, and I don´t know how it will go... Realizing suddenly tonight that it was stupid to head out alone when no one had any idea where I was (no one in Baños or Quito or Ohio or San Francisco), I emailed Mark my tentative itinerary. Contact him if I don´t show up next Thursday, a week from now.
After some mountain trekking, I am going to finally go for the tourist route and hit up the beaches around Christmas. However, something tells me a hammock on a balmy equatorial beach will be more fun than watching Baños guides explain rafting to a bunch of confused American college students who will inevitably turn to me to translate. I´ve helped them a little at travel agencies, editing brochures which had said in English "wonderfull ecuador, come and discovery of the extreme sports in baños, we offer to you the jungle trip, kayac, cayoning." My version was "wonderful ecuador, come and discover extreme sports in baños, we offer jungle trips, kayaking, canyoning," but I liked their version, too :)
I´ll write when I get out of my mountain trekking. Love from the high Andes!
News flash number 1: UCLA and Berkeley applications officially done, submitted, paid for, finiti, terminadas, I´m in the applicant pool!
News flash number 2: This isn´t probably nearly as exciting to you all as it is to me, but I have spent 35 dollars on the past week of lodging and almost no (and I mean almost zero!) money on food. "How?" you ask. I´m that good... and i am in some place where they let me slide by for 5 bucks a night. I have discovered that 50 cents of empanadas makes a good budget lunch... if only I didn´t have to apply for grad school, this would have been an incredibly cheap week, which makes me happy as I watch my dwindling bank account.
News flash number 3: I am traveling!! Hard core! I turned in my applications, there was nothing left for me in Baños, unless you count guys muttering jokes about my Spanish while watching old dubbed movies in the tourist agencies... so I headed to Latacunga...
I plan on spending the next several days in the mountains west of Latacunga, hiking and trekking in rural communities with no Internet or phones. I have to meet other trekkers, and I don´t know how it will go... Realizing suddenly tonight that it was stupid to head out alone when no one had any idea where I was (no one in Baños or Quito or Ohio or San Francisco), I emailed Mark my tentative itinerary. Contact him if I don´t show up next Thursday, a week from now.
After some mountain trekking, I am going to finally go for the tourist route and hit up the beaches around Christmas. However, something tells me a hammock on a balmy equatorial beach will be more fun than watching Baños guides explain rafting to a bunch of confused American college students who will inevitably turn to me to translate. I´ve helped them a little at travel agencies, editing brochures which had said in English "wonderfull ecuador, come and discovery of the extreme sports in baños, we offer to you the jungle trip, kayac, cayoning." My version was "wonderful ecuador, come and discover extreme sports in baños, we offer jungle trips, kayaking, canyoning," but I liked their version, too :)
I´ll write when I get out of my mountain trekking. Love from the high Andes!
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Lack of updates
So, sorry I haven´t updated for some time... but life is rather boring right now. I am very happy, but there´s nothing to write home about.
This past week, I´ve visited the immigration office (they are allowing me to stay!). I worked on grad school applications (though not enough, and two are due next week!). I spent way too much money (because I was in Quito, and it´s expensive). And finally, I met with the CFHI director and program assistant in Quito (turns out, I am applying to come back to Ecuador as a program coordinator for the summer!).
In summary, Ecuador immigration accepted me, UCLA and Berkeley might not accept me if I don´t get in those apps, the ATM has accepted my debit card too much, and I hope that CFHI accepts me as a coordinator so I can come back to Ecuador! Yay!
This past week, I´ve visited the immigration office (they are allowing me to stay!). I worked on grad school applications (though not enough, and two are due next week!). I spent way too much money (because I was in Quito, and it´s expensive). And finally, I met with the CFHI director and program assistant in Quito (turns out, I am applying to come back to Ecuador as a program coordinator for the summer!).
In summary, Ecuador immigration accepted me, UCLA and Berkeley might not accept me if I don´t get in those apps, the ATM has accepted my debit card too much, and I hope that CFHI accepts me as a coordinator so I can come back to Ecuador! Yay!
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