Ano Viejo-The Old Year

Poor Widow

After spending Christmas with family in Orlando, Justin and I returned to Quito on the afternoon of the 31^st.  And while we were still heartbroken over losing Howie, we were determined to try to start the New Year off on a positive note.

I’ll admit that last year I think we were both a little too shy to get in on the traditional Ano Nuevo celebrations – burning effigies in the streets, paying alms to the men in drag (symbolic widows of the Ano Nuevos) harassing cars at street corners. But this time we dove right in. First, I picked up a bottle of champagne from the duty free store in the airport. Next, we walked down to the corner to purchase an Ano Viejo.

This is a stuffed doll effigy with paper mache face that is supposed to symbolize the old year. The faces on these things are all slightly terrifying, and the fact that their bodies are made of what appear to be old infant clothing is a dad unsettling. However, we picked an ugly old hag doll, paid $5 and then returned home.

Creepiest Shopping Experience Ever

Next we scouted out a good patch of sidewalk to set this thing on fire. Armed with Ano Viejo and two plastic cups of cheap champagne, we set off. Justin spent about 15 minutes trying set this thing ablaze. Finally, we had to tear holes into the onesie it was wearing and light some of the shredded newspaper stuffing inside. After much ado it finally started to burn. We sat on the curb sipping our champagne and watching the flames.

a lighter, our

Got One!

Next it was time to make an affirmation for the New Year and as is Ecuadorian custom, to jump over the Ano Viejo as it burns. We thought about the loved ones we lost in 2015. Though they may no longer be with us on this earth, we know they live on in Eternity and in our hearts, stories, and memories.

And with that, we jumped over the old year and landed with two feet into the New.

Leave 2015 Behind

Goodbye Old Friend

I debated whether or not to write this post for a while. There are some things that are meant to be kept to oneself and to be kept private, and things that aren't interesting to all the people who read our blog. Over the past year Shannon and I have gone through the trial of losing loved ones while living far away. Our distance kept us from being able to say our final goodbyes in a way that was gut wrenching for both of us. I say this now only to highlight the sort of events are meant to be dealt with on a private level, or with family only instead of publishing on the internet. However, the flip side of that token is that one of our primary uses of this blog is to capture our lives as we travel abroad like a time capsule. I want to read this one day and experience the same sorrows and joys that I am feeling at this time because it all makes up our lives as we are living them. What's a time capsule without realism? To remember only the exciting, fun, or convenient is to do a disservice to ourselves and anyone who happens to read this blog. That's why I decided ultimately to share some of our most recent experiences on the blog.

A week ago, our dog, a member of our family, and one of my best friends in the world, Howie, died of a traumatic and sudden cause. I adopted Howie at a pet shelter in NJ in 2005 and have had him ever since. You will recall if you've been keeping up with this blog that moving to Ecuador without Howie was never an option. He was a main part of my life, and the only constant from the time I was 18 until last week. He was by my side playing, walking, and guarding my house when it was a small apartment in a bad neighborhood in NJ, then a nicer area in Florida, then a house with a yard when my house became our house and he and I moved in with Shannon, and ultimately here in Ecuador. He was a part of our family and he will be missed.

I will save some details and feelings for myself but mention this. Howie was an incredible dog whose kind spirit, obedience, loyalty, and playful nature will not be forgotten. He was by my side when I was a punk teenager making my way through college, feeling out my career, and then when I found Shannon and we embraced this lifestyle of nomadic adventure. He was an omnipresent figure in my life and in our family. I will always be thankful for the way he taught me responsibility and unselfishness as a young man and Shannon and I will always cherish the memories we all had together.

Few people know the joys of having a dog, but those who do truly understand that they heighten everything in your life. The feeling of coming home after a long day and seeing the eyes of a dog glaring up at you excited by your mere presence is unmatched by almost anything in this world. Dogs bring great joy, companionship, and stabilizing calmness to the lives of anyone they are around. But their loss often exemplifies the worst a person can feel.

Howie lived a good life. He played on the Pacific beaches of coastal Ecuador, ran around in the mountainous parks of Quito, sunbathed beneath palm trees in Florida, and ran around on the streets of New Jersey. Thank you to Meagan, Candy, Tom, Ellen, Bethany, and any and everyone who helped us bring him to Ecuador when we moved. It was not an easy task. A special thank you goes to Howie for completing our family and for all the memories. Good bye my old friend.

R.I.P. Howie 2004-2015

Movie Night

In the states, if you want to watch a movie, you go to the theater or stream a movie from one of the seemingly endless options like Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, and cable on demand. Things are a little different in Quito.

While copyright laws exist everywhere last time I checked, they aren't taken seriously here. Piracy of intellectual property is a serious crime in the states and people pirating entertainment like music or movies is illegal and theoretically should not happen. Although, let's be real here...who hasn't partaken in some entertainment plunder before?

While movie and music piracy exists in the states, there is at least a guise of consideration in place. People steal from their PCs at home, from the comfort of their couches with their pjs on. (Criminal masterminds!)

In Ecuador however, piracy is a much more open crime. There are pirated DVD stores on almost every block. The stores are lined with cheap cases and printed covers on a basic ink jet printer.

DVDs exist from movies that were produced in the 1950s all the way through and including movies that are still out in theaters. The quality and language of the movies vary but you can get a brand new DVD for $2.50 or 5 movies for $10.

So much for copyright laws.

Fiestas de Quito

It seems that every city in Ecuador has their own independence holiday. Quito’s Foundation Day is celebrated on December 6. Each year the Spanish department at our school puts on a huge celebration to showcase the culture, music, and language of the country. I was able to attend the early childhood division’s celebration and it was beyond cute.

On the elementary soccer and recess fields, they arranged the rows of chairs on 3 sides to create a plaza. The early childhood division spans from preschool to Grade 2. Each class was assigned a role to play in what was to be a simulated bull fight. The preschool girls were dressed up as Reinas de Quito (imagine tiny beauty queens with itty bitty sashes and tiaras) and the boys were caballeros, or cowboys, replete with construction paper horses on sticks. The Kindergarten classes were a mixture of street vendors – some sold empanadas, others candy, and others popcorn. Then there were the street sweepers with shortened brooms and dustpans. One by one, all of these classes made their entrance into the plaza to the cheers of the adoring audience.

Next, the Grade 1 and Grade 2 classes, respectively performed a multi-faceted dance that included flamenco dancers, musicians, policeman, and ambulance drivers. All the students in the grade level performed at the same time, filling up the plaza and dancing and singing with their cardboard props.

Finally, it was time for the bullfight. Thankfully, they’ve scaled back the violence for this particular performance. The “bull” (played by a gracious kindergarten dad) galloped back and forth across the plaza wearing a huge plush bull head, complete with nose ring. Now, instead of the stabbing and taunting that goes along with real bullfights, our bull was subjected to vigorous “tickling” with long paper feathers. Two at a time, little pre-K students ran up to the bull (who was on all fours at this point) and tickled his head and back with giant paper feathers. The bull would roll his head around and shake out a back leg, much like a dog enjoying a good backrub. Once the feather ticklers were done, a fresh batch of little kids came out with soft foam rollers and gave the bull a back rub. But all the tickling and back rubbing had an effect on the bull. Because suddenly he was pooping in every corner of the plaza. The poop (all part of the plan, mind you) was really just crumpled up paper balls that the bull tossed from a bag on his hip, all for the sake of giving the aforementioned street sweepers something to do! That’s right, after bull had finished his business, out dashed a dozen little children with brooms and dustpans to clean up the mess.

And then for the finale, all the little street vendors made one more pass around the audience to sell their snacks. The audience, having been primed earlier, were ready with wads of fake dollar bills to buy the popcorn and empanadas. Lastly was one more song and festive dance and then the celebration came to an end.

I was truly impressed by the obvious level of thought, planning and creativity that went into coordinating every aspect of this performance. And seeing the glee on the faces of the bull feather ticklers and back rubbers was definitely an endearing treat. Viva Quito!

Hiking the Páramo

Snow on the ground

This past weekend we had the opportunity to do a hike we’ve been wanting to do since we moved here. Papallacta is a small village about an hour and 15 minutes southeast of Quito. You pass through this village on your way to the Amazon. Papallacta itself sits at about 3,000 feet and contains many natural hot springs, which was the ultimate destination of our hike – the famous thermal pools of Papallacta, or “Termas de Papallacta.” These pools are fed by steaming water carried underground from the nearby volcanoes, Cayambe and Antisana. The water ranges in temperature from 86⁰ to 158⁰ Farenheit. People then control the temperature of various pools by adding different amounts of cold water. There is a luxury hotel built around several of these pool, Hotel Termas Papallacta. If you are a paying guest at the hotel, you can use the pools for free. Or, if you want to just drive up for the day, you can purchase a day pass for around $15.

In the soaring mountains surrounding Papallacta is a very unique and interesting ecosystem that I only just

Sleet and mist

learned about called The Páramo, and it is from here that the Páramo microbrewery in Quito takes its name. This ecosystem exists only in the Andes, at an elevation of 11,000-16,000 feet. The climate is cold and humid, with strong winds and almost a constant drizzle of near-freezing rain. The vegetation is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The ground is spongy, due to constant rainfall and many of the shrubs and plants look like different types of coral that would be living under the sea. There are cacti and long, spiky grasses. And the terrain is dotted with lakes ranging in size, but with surfaces as still as glass. There are also narrow waterfalls that rush surprisingly fast and loud, and at times even run right under the trail. Trout populate these lakes and streams and are the typical cuisine at most restaurants, served whole, either steamed or fried. The predominant colors are brown and grey, sprinkled with fire-red coral-like plants, and an occasional yellow or purple flower.

One of several lakes

To begin our hike, we drove our cars up to the antennas, the highest accessible peak. When we got out of our cars, I was shocked to see that there was actually sleet falling, and the ground was dusted with a thin, slushy coating of snow!! I only hesitated briefly on the prudence of hiking down steep mountains in such wet, slippery conditions. We were a group of 18 and we were going for it! I was suited up in two layers of pants – my cold-weather running tights underneath and my newly purchased quick-dry hiking pants, thick Merina wool socks and waterproof hiking boots. My top half was layered up in a thermal undershirt and waterproof jacket, a wool beanie with ear covers, and thin fleece gloves. I was still shivering. The hike would last about 5 ½ hours and the precipitation, while changing from snow to sleet to light rain, would remain continuous for the entire time.

Landscape of brown and grey

Almost everyone fell once or twice on the journey. It’s unavoidable. (Editor's Note: Justin did not fall) The ground is wet and slippery, and on many places of the dirt trail, there was a steam of fast-flowing water – runoff from higher up the mountain. One of my forward tumbles dislodged the banana from my backpack and sent it sailing over the path and out of reach. Sadly, I didn’t realize this until we had stopped for a snack and I discovered it was missing. Fortunately I still had my favorite hiking treat-gummy bears!

Only the first 30 minutes were uncomfortable. After that my body started to warm up, the ground became less treacherous, and I really started to enjoy myself. The scenery was beautiful. Such a juxtaposition

The Occasional Flower

between a landscape that looked arid with cacti and long brown grasses and spiky plants but that was actually sodden with rain water and melted snow that it seemed the ground would never dry out was a surreal experience. We could occasionally hear birds calling in the distance, and actually spotted one once. And several times along the trail we saw dark green bear poop – but we never actually spied a bear -they are apparently quite elusive. The hike was mostly downhill and I was amazed by how good I felt. Once you resign to the fact that you’re going to be wet and slightly uncomfortable for a few hours, you can really enjoy yourself. This was nothing like hiking Pichincha where I felt like I could hardly breathe. On the contrary, I felt spry, I felt energized and I was in the lead of the pack for the entire hike.

Snack break

At around 1pm we made our final decent to where the trail dead ends into a park ranger station. Once here, the rangers will phone into town and call you a taxi to take you the remaining 10 kilometers into Papallacta, and to our final destination – the thermal pools. This was hands-down the most miserable part of the entire day. Almost immediately after you stop moving the cold starts to set into your bones. At this point, we are all soaked through. My thin gloves were now so wet that they were turning my fingertips into icicles so I just had to take them off. And after stomping and tromping through bogs and puddles, my boots were even filled with water and squished at every step. I couldn’t help but think that if someone from the village opened up a Canelazo cart at the ranger station they would make a killing. What could be better than ending your hike with a steaming orange and cinnamon cocktail? After 30 teeth-chattering minutes, the taxis arrived and shuttled us the rest of the way. Now it was time for our reward of arduous cardio – soaking in hot steamy pools and drinking cold Pilsener grandes.

Waterfall

The landscape brought to mind scenes from many fantasy movies. The beginning of the downhill/uphill hike through sleet and rocky cliffs was reminiscent of Bilbo’s Unexpected Journey. One would only be mildly surprised if a band of Orks came tearing through the scene, pursued by the ever-glamorous, androgynous Elves with white flowing hair, sending arrows flying through the misty air. Then, there was the time that half of our group decided to take a shortcut through The NeverEnding Story’s Swamp of Sadness. It was here that one of our friends narrowly escaped when she stepped into a bog up to her chest and had to be pulled out of the sucking mud, happily she avoided Artax’s fate. Fight the sadness, Artax! Finally, as we neared the end of our hike, and therefore the lowest elevation, the landscape became carpeted with lush greenery and mosses just like in Fern Gully – complete with tiny flitting white moths…or were they faeries??

Medium Pools

There are two options for accommodations at Hotel Papallacta. You can stay in a standard hotel room, or if

Hot Pools

you have a large group, you can rent a Cabaña Familiar (family cabin) that sleeps 6 comfortably, has a fireplace and kitchenette, and grants you access to some of the more private hot pools. So our group rented two family cabins. The rest of the afternoon was spent going between the tepid warm pool, and the turn-your-toes-bright-pink hot pool. After several large beers consumed pool side, we decided to venture into town (a 90 second walk from the hotel grounds) to have dinner at a local restaurant. I’m fairly sure our table of 15 hungry gringos made this guy’s week. Clearly, I went with the trucha frita, whole fried trout. This comes with French fries, a small salad, white rice, and limes. Justin and I both ate our fill of trout, and washed it down with several beers for $10 each.

Landscaping around the pools

The next morning Justin and I woke up early to go retrieve Howie from his overnight stay at the kennel. The rain had completely cleared up and we were gifted with a crisp, clear sky and fresh breeze the whole drive back. We even spotted a few alpacas on the side of the highway. Justin couldn’t resist giving them the eye. This was the perfect way to spend a weekend, and how fortunate we are to have such an interesting and beautiful ecosystem just an hour away from our home. I definitely think we will be making this trip more often.

Justin's got his eyes on you...

Little Mountain

Every year around the weekend of Halloween and leading into November, we have some time off. The school is closed for one day due to All Saints Day and another for the Independence of Cuenca, a major city in the southern region of Ecuador.

It's a Hard Life

All Saints Day is a holiday to celebrate the loved ones lost in the previous year. It is the same holiday where we all eat bread babies and drink spiced fruit juice. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, refer to our post we made this time last year.

Spark Fleet!

For this four day weekend, last year we went to the beach called Same (pronounced SA-MAY) and hung out in an Airb&b rental property where we were stalked a little bit by a mustache twirling villain in the same vein as Snidely Whiplash. (If you don’t know, look him up) He even had the same hat and pale complexion! We had a great time and enjoyed the Pacific Ocean Coastline of Ecuador for the first time. That trip was followed by three to four more last year.

Hammock Pit

So this year we decided to commemorate the anniversary of our first beach trip with…another beach trip! This time we flew to Guayaquil, Ecuador’s most populous city. We did this because we didn’t want to drive 6-12 hours to get to the beach. Instead, we flew 40 minutes and drove for the remaining time in tiny sardine cans called Chevy Sparks. The price for the Sparks were naturally cheaper since they were essentially metal versions of those yellow and red Little Tikes foot powered cars we all had as children. Since they were cheaper, there was a parking lot fleet of about four or five Sparks when we arrived. We went to a beach town called Montanita which means little mountain.

Fresh Fruit Juice!

We all booked a quiet little beach bungalow surf shack that had delicious food, cheap beer, really nice rooms, and a unique layout including a hammock pit with a sunken card table.

We spent the next three days reading in hammocks, laying on the beach, swimming in the ocean, and going to downtown Montanita.

Bourbon Street South America

Now that my friends, is a different story. Downtown Montanita is mostly a small gridlock of streets. It’s about 3 blocks by 3 blocks and includes a main strip called Cocktail Alley. I would equate Downtown Montanita to Bourbon Street. It’s not as large or grandiose as Bourbon Street but the idea is the same. Provide as many restaurants and bars as possible in a walkable space. Music blares all night from all directions and each restaurant is flanked on either side by a club. The only difference I would say between Montanita and Bourbon Street, aside from the side and the ground being covered in sand, is that instead of bars, Montanita has dozens of cocktail stands lining the main street.

Each stand is about five feet wide and has enough plastic chairs for about four people to sit in front. At the stand, customers can get fresh cocktails with the freshest fruit or other ingredients for between $2-4. It’s a really unique setup and a nice place to visit.

Living the Life

Things may have been a little frustrating if we were staying directly in town but since we were a ten minute beach walk away, the sound didn’t carry through the night as those young ‘uns partied until 7am. It was there for those who needed it, and just far enough away for those who didn’t.

Ceviche Bike

The best part of our beach trip this weekend, and of every beach trip we’ve had so far, was the food. We had pescado encocado (fish and rice with a creamy coconut sauce), piscado frito entero (a whole fish, fried and staring up at you from the plate), and of course the Ecuadorian staples of ceviche and fresh empanadas served from a bicycle on the beach. We even had another bicycle riding around selling coconuts. They would use their machete to cut a hole in the top and BAM, fresh coconut water.

It was an incredible trip, a beautiful beach town, and a great way to celebrate the independence of a city I’ve never been to. All in all, it was a great weekend.

FALLing Back Into Old Habits

Oh My Gourd, it's them...

We are pirates and smugglers. Perhaps some clarification would help. Every time one or both of us travel to the United States for a family visit, holiday break, summer trip, we load up our suitcases with the various luxuries that make our South American day to day lives easier. We’re talking about things like Wawa coffee (my NJ people know what I’m talking about), buffalo sauce, peanut M&Ms, and of course cans of pumpkin. It’s not just us traveling either. When Shannon’s family came to visit us over Christmas break last year, they also brought suitcases full of these things. It seems like a small and silly thing to do, but when you have acclimated to 90% of the food and culture of a foreign country, one of the unexpected side-affects is a strong insatiable craving for crap from the U.S.

Step One Slice It

Around this time every year from the time I was a wee little lad, I have been consumed with the American tradition of being obsessed with pumpkin flavored things. In the fall, as the leaves turn from their vibrant green “living” color into their beautiful hues of decay I am overcome by the need to have pumpkin flavored things. I’m talking about coffee, lattes, bread, muffins, donuts, biscotti, soups, pies, and of course the ever-elusive “mom’s famous pumpkin cheesecake.” I’m not alone in this desire. It’s a fairly common American tradition. It is ingrained in our country’s culture and started in the 1600s when European colonists didn’t know what the hell they were doing and kindly traded the Native Americans polio for delicious pumpkin recipes. Ever since then, Americans have been obsessed with pumpkin flavored things. Last year was a bit of a transition for us as we were only able to have a few pumpkin items. This year…oh man this year…

Step Two Roast It

I have previously written about our exploits involving smuggling canned delicious orange-brown viscus gold into Ecuador for our cooking and eating enjoyment. It was limited to a few dishes due to our lack of canned pumpkin. Ecuador doesn’t exactly have a proper Publix or anything too similar. This weekend, when we went to the market, we saw it. I don’t know if it was my own inner manifestations or a broken skylight, or more likely, a hole in the roof, but as soon as we walked into the market my eyes were drawn by a strong ray of sunlight shining down upon a pile of pumpkins. We found them! The real deal! We quickly purchased four or five pumpkins, unsure if they were in fact the real deal. It was almost too good to be true, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

Anyway, when we got home, Shannon looked up how to turn the orange orb of God into the stuff that comes out of the Libby’s can. She sliced them in half, roasted them, gutted them, and scooped them, and Huzzah! We had plentiful amounts of fresh

Step Three, Mash It

pumpkin puree.

Step Four Enjoy

We spent the next two days doing what any logical person would do. We cooked every pumpkin recipe we could find. Shannon started off with some pumpkin scones, and biscotti. I followed her up with some pumpkin soup, and pancakes and she made a vat of delicious pumpkin lattes. We are now set and we can officially ignore the pending volcanic eruption, the home sickness, and the lack of climate change (therefore leaves changing color) and we can focus on watching some good ‘ole fashioned American Football and gorging ourselves on pumpkin things.  It finally feels like fall and little by little it’s finally starting to feel more like home.

Lago Conquistadora

Lago San Pablo

So about two weeks ago I completed a personal challenge, the likes of which I’ve never attempted in my life: an open-water swimming competition. There is a famous lake in Otavalo named Lago San Pablo. It sits at the foot of the massive volcano Imbabura. The lake is over 3500 meters in length, 83 meters deep at its deepest, and a constant temperature of 17.5⁰ C (or 63.5⁰ F). And every year, for the past 53 years there is a race to swim across the lake, or “travesía el lago”. I learned about this competition last year through my swim coach partner. She has done the race several times herself, although not for many years. We talked about doing it together last year but it never went any further than that.

At the Registration Booth

Flash forward to four weeks ago. I ran into my colleague in the courtyard and she casually mentions that the race is in two weeks. One thing leads to another and we decide, just two weeks from the date and having done no kind of training to prepare for the 2.18 mile swim, that we’re going to go for it.

Now let me say that being born and raised in Florida, where alligators, venomous snakes, and snapping turtles lurk in every body of water, swimming in a lake goes against every self-preservation instinct I possess. If something doesn’t maim or eat you whole, there’s always the brain-devouring amoebas to worry about. And can I tell you how many senior citizens plow through guardrails and drive their Buicks into retention ponds and drainage ditches every year, only to be found months later? No sir, you don’t swim in lakes in Florida because danger is lurking in the tepid waters. So you can understand what a huge deal it was, unnatural even, for me to voluntarily attempt to swim across a lake.

Ready to Conquer the Water

So there’s the fear factor involved. Now let me elaborate on the logistics of the swim. The distance from start to finish is 3515 meters. That’s over 2 miles. And in swimming distances, that is FAR. I actually don’t think I’ve ever swam that far at one time in my life. Next there is the cold to contend with, a chilly 63⁰ is sure to give you chills and begins to lower your core body temperature after a given time. And finally, there is the “course” or lack thereof. Unlike swimming in a pool with neat little floating lane dividers to mark your path, there is no kind of trail marked in the lake. It is just a wide open body of water that literally stretches beyond your field of vision and your only navigation guide is to hope to keep an eye on the other 200 little swim caps bobbing up and down in the water.

I will now recount for you my experience, my triumph, my defeat, and the spiritual lesson I learned.

September 12, 2015 6:00 am

No Turning Back

Justin and I wake up. We have spent the night in Cabanas del Lago, a beautiful hostería on the banks of Lago San Pablo. I eat a banana and slurp down a juice box before suiting up and meeting my swimming partner in the parking lot. We drive to the starting end of the lake where Justin (God bless him) dutifully begins rubbing me down with Vaseline – into my knees and elbows, my ankles, toes, ears, and shoulders. I am told this is supposed to help insulate you from the cold water, and ease the joint pain caused by the cold water. Whether or not it worked, I can’t say for sure. But I did look fierce and shiny. My partner and I do some light jogging and stretching. Fog is rolling off the surface of the water. Spectators are dressed in pants, hooded sweatshirts, hats and scarves. I am wearing a bathing suit, a swim cap, and a light sheen of petroleum jelly.

8:00 am

We have been marked on our arms and backs with our racing numbers in thick black Sharpie. They line us up into a corral on the bank of the lake. Men on the left, women on the right. There are about 200 swimmers, 40 of them women and the rest are men. The elite swimmers have been given first start and they leap into the water as the whistle blows. The rest of us walk, run, and stomp our way into the water and then it is 8 minutes of sheer chaos as swimmers vie for a good spot in the water. Arms and legs flail, water splashes, you get kicked and elbowed and nudged. The moment I am fully submerged, I feel my heart rate rocket and my breath is coming in short, shallow gasps. I am experiencing cold shock, which is when you start involuntarily gasping for air. This is problematic when you are submerged in water, as you risk sucking in a chest full of icy water if you’re not careful. I had planned to start swimming fast to get my body warmed up, but this is impossible. My face does not want to stay in the water, and I keep popping up into a breast stroke where my head is out of water and I can breathe. I realize I am experiencing a fight-or-flight reaction and my body desperately wants to take flight. My partner keeps telling me to swim faster that I have to get past the initial shock and I tell her, “I am panicking.” My brain is telling me that this is impossible, and my body won’t do what I’m telling it to do. I look around for the nearest rescue boat (there are 8 boats for the 200 swimmers) and wonder how long it would take for them to get to me. All I can hear is the sound of my own desperate gasping and my brain telling me to give up. My friend is encouraging me. “Start swimming. Just start swimming” she tells me. Finally, I am able to put my face in and start to swim.

8:15 am

My goggles fogged up the moment I hit the water and I am virtually swimming blind. My friend is on my right and I use her for a guide every time I take a breath. I am finally able to slow my breathing a bit and have gotten into a rhythm. I am aware of how cold my body is and I feel shivers in my chest. My breathing still sounds strained when I come up for air but I am slightly calmer. The water is a dark and murky forest green and there is no visibility a foot beyond my face. Every few seconds, a glint of sunlight hits my goggles and throws a reflection of light into the water below me. Every time this makes me jump with the fear that it’s a ferocious water creature rising from the depths to pull me below. As I’m swimming alongside my friend I am reminded of a story my mom read me when I was a kid. It’s set in rural Australia and its about three neighborhood friends that dare each other to swim across a lake. The first two boys make it across and are teasing the last boy for being afraid to swim. Finally, unable to take their taunting anymore the third boy starts swimming across the lake…and is promptly eaten up by an enormous crocodile.  I’m sure the moral of the story had something to do with peer pressure. But right now its making me imagine my untimely demise. “Don’t think about that story” I tell myself. “It’s too cold for alligators in this water. It’s too cold for alligators” becomes my mantra.

8:40 am

I’ve got a rhythm going. I’m feeling okay. I have quieted the panic in my brain and I’m feeling strong. I’ve found a way to stop my heart from involuntarily leaping every time I look down into the opaque water, and that is simply to keep my eyes closed. So now, I only open my eyes when I’m taking a breath of air, and I snap my eyes shut each time I plunge my face back in. This is working for me. My friend is starting to swim faster and I’m having trouble keeping up. The finish line is nowhere in sight. The throng of swimmers has dispersed over the expanse of the lake. As my friend pulls farther and farther ahead, I realize that without her next to me as a guide, I am virtually swimming blind. And it is alarmingly easy to get disoriented after a few strokes with your eyes closed. I keep stopping every few strokes to pop my head out and get a sense of direction but this is an incredibly inefficient way to swim. My friend is far ahead of me now. I can barely make out the white round ball of her swim cap before she is totally gone from sight.

8:45

I am alone. I am all alone is the big scary lake and no one is going to notice if my head disappears under the surface. I haven’t even seen a boat in the last 20 minutes. Can they see me? Is there a GPS tracker on this pace chip? If I start to drown how long will it take for the boats to get to me? Can I even tread water that long? I am really, really cold. My toes are going numb. And my shoulders are throbbing. I’ve totally lost my rhythm. I’m barely even swimming.

Once again, I feel the panic set in. I realize my friend has abandoned me and I’m going to have to finish this alone. I stop swimming and pull my goggles off to get a clear look around. “Where is the finish line? Is it to my left? My right?” “Oh shit” I hear myself say out loud, but it comes out as a shaky, high-pitched whine. My head turns left and right looking for a clue of the finish. My lips are trembling and I feel like I’m very close to crying out of fear, like when I used to have panic attacks. The difference being that those panic attacks were usually irrational and unprovoked whereas this was a very rational fear of possibly drowning. I know I am going to have to calm myself down if I am going to get through this. “It is only in your head” I tell myself. “Your body is okay. Your body will do what your mind tells it to do. Get your mind under control. Calm down, Shannon. You can do this. You just need to calm down.” With a newfound (albeit small) resolve, I start heading in the only direction I can think of, which is forward. I have succeeded in stilling my thoughts. I begin to get into a meditative state. I’m back into a rhythm and I’m breathing every few strokes now. I force myself to appreciate the beautiful mountain scenery that appears on my left and my right every time I take a breath. I am still aware of a cold feeling but it is nowhere near as desperate as before. I start appreciating rather than fearing my surroundings. “Think of how lucky you are” I muse. “You are swimming in a beautiful lake. You are surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. By green and brown. Feel the sun shining on your back, warming you. It is calm. It is quiet. You are communing with Nature. This is actually a very magical experience. Consider this a baptism of sorts.” My meditation works and I actually feel myself smile. I am going to make it. Justin is waiting for me on the other side and I’m going to get there.

9:30

Waiting at the Finish Line

I have spotted some yellow flags on the bank and I decide this must be the finish line. It still seems really far way, but I am in a good mental state and I’m not discouraged. My arms, shoulders and neck muscles are aching but I know I’m going to make it. I’m just so elated that I can actually see the finish line! The wind has started to pick up and it’s creating waves. This adds to the difficulty of swimming in a straight line and every once in a while I come up for a breath and get a mouth full of water instead. A couple times I choke on the water. But when this happens I stop, cough it out, take a deep breath, and continue swimming. I’ve been swimming for what seems like a long time but the flags don’t seem to be getting any closer. I keep telling myself I can do this. Mind over matter. Keep moving. Don’t stop. You’re going to make it.

9:40

My concentration is broken when suddenly I hear whistles blowing. I look up and see a boat circling me. A man throws me a life vest attached to a rope. I shake my head “no” I motion towards the finish line. “I want to finish. Let me keep going” I’m thinking this but I don’t know if the words actually came out of my mouth. The man in the boat shakes his head at me. “Everybody out” he says in English. I look at the yellow flags. I look back at the boat. I am no more than 300 meters out. I could weep from frustration. I am so close. I realize that it’s over and sadly grab the vest. Once I stop swimming my muscles begin to cramp almost immediately. When two men try to haul me overboard, I am dead weight, having lost all control of my body. They are forced to solicit the help of a third man to haul my stiff, shivering body on board. It is not a proud moment as three grown Ecuadorian men struggle to get leverage on my body weight. The moment I’m in the boat my right calf seizes in a cramp and I’m howling. A female medic on board vigorously massages my leg until the muscle releases. I am devastated I didn’t finish. I feel defeated. I feel robbed. I feel like I’ve failed. I am now soaking wet and being whipped by the wind as the boat speeds to shore. My body is going into shock again and starts shaking and heaving from the cold. “Por que?” I utter. I can barely get the words out. “La carrera ha terminado” The race is finished she tells me. I gesture to the finish line. I am having a hard time speaking I am so cold and exhausted. I think she understands what I’m trying to ask. “Porque el tiempo” Because of the time she tells me. “Cuanto tiempo?” I ask through chattering teeth. Her answer stuns me. “Una hora y media” she tells me, smiling. I have been swimming for an hour and half? I am bewildered by this. There are about 10 other swimmers on the boat, all drooped and shivering, having also been pulled from the race.

9:50

The boat pulls up to the dock and I am shaking so hard I look like I’m having a seizure. I am unsteady on my feet and as I leave the boat for the dock I am greeted by a medic with a large blanket. He wraps the blanket around my shoulders. Another person starts unfastening the chip bracelet from my wrist. Someone else shoves a paper cup of scalding sweet liquid into my hand. My hands are shaking so hard I spill the hot drink all over my chest and face as I attempt to take a sip. I walk into the cabin and two medics are speaking to me but I do not understand what they are saying and I cannot speak. Involuntary grunts and squeaks are coming out of my mouth. A medic takes a hot water bottle and wraps it up in my blanket. They sit me down in a chair and someone pulls off my swim cap and wraps a dry blanket around my head. I have no idea what’s happening I’m only aware of my body convulsing. It occurs to me later that this may have been the early stages of hypothermia.

9:55

Time to Recover

As I’m being ministered to by medics who I cannot understand, I suddenly look up and see Justin. He has shouldered a medic out of the way and is hugging me and rubbing my back. He is saying something to me. The medic is asking a question. I am comprehending none of this. “Fire” I finally hear Justin say. “He wants to know if you want to go sit by the fire. There’s a big bonfire outside.” I manage a nod and Justin ushers me outside to a smoldering fire. Justin struggles to get sweatpants and socks on my useless legs. He pulls a sweatshirt on me and puts a knit cap on my head and scoots my chair to the edge of the fire.

10:15

By now I am starting to feel warm and the shaking has finally stopped. I am able to speak again. I tell Justin how sad I am that they made me get out when I was so close to finishing. He tells me he saw more than two dozen grown men brought back in boats, having given up and quit the race. He tells me how proud he is of me, and also how worried he was when the race was over and I still hadn’t returned. “You didn’t quit” he keeps reminding me. He’s right. I would have finished had they let me.

10:30

Finally Time to Rest

We head back to the hostería where I take a blissfully hot shower. I’m interested to find that the front of my swim suit was holding a layer of mud and lake algae against my skin. I stand in the shower until I can feel the hot water starting to run out. Then I dry off, get dressed and we head to the restaurant for a celebratory meal. The restaurant overlooks the lake I just crossed. And as we eat we both marvel at what a distance it is. “I can’t believe I just swam across that thing” I say to Justin. He agrees, it’s pretty impressive. The rest of the afternoon and that evening are all sweatpants, hot tea and ibuprofen. And even though I didn’t technically finish the race, I came pretty damn close. I allow myself to feel a little pride and satisfaction for giving it my best effort, for overcoming the moments of intense fear, and most importantly for not giving up.

So what did I learn from this day? What did I take away from the lake? I learned that fear can cripple you, if you let it. I learned that there is a lot to be gained from challenging yourself. I learned that the strength of the body is nothing compared to the strength of the mind. I learned that 3500 meters in open in water is much farther than I could have imagined. I learned a new use for Vaseline. And finally, I learned that even when you’re all alone in the middle of the lake you can still find your way, if you just put your head down and keep swimming forward. 

Ecuador's Wide World of Animals

We've seen some pretty cool stuff while we have been here. We've traveled to the Amazon and seen monkeys and caimans. We've been to the coast and seen weird fish and sea lions and boobies. We've even seen unique animals in the mountains where we live (I'm looking at you Llama who I fought). However this week I saw something I've never even heard of before...a tarantula wasp.

I was looking for a student during our lunch hour to talk to him and came across a colleague who had lunch supervision duty. We got to chatting and out of the corner of our eyes we saw a blackish mass about the size of a cell phone moving. We went up to look at it and to our horror we saw animal murder taking place.

My friend Nick said, "Oh I read a cool article about these. They are giant wasps that are natural enemies of tarantulas. They sting them to paralyze them, drag them to their wasp dungeon, and lay eggs on them so their baby can eat the paralyzed tarantula alive."

I'll wait. I understand you may need a moment to process that sentence.

....

Ok, ready?

That is the most disturbing thing I think I have heard of but I witnessed it first hand. Also, of course we called over all of the middle school boys and girls to gawk at it. This was before we knew that it had the second most painful venom sting of any animal in the world. Oh well it all worked out alright.

Check out the article Nick was referring to: Article

Checking In

Well, it’s been a while. We haven’t made any posts for a variety of reasons. The first is that a lot of the things we usually blog about are related to the transition to living and working in Quito and many of our “firsts” were already posted. This year we have an apartment, a car, a working knowledge of the city, and as a result quite a few of our amusing struggles are kind of not happening right now. That is not something I’m complaining about but it does explain some of the delay in posting.

Anyway, we’re back to school and things are going well. Both Shannon and I have some new responsibilities professionally and while we’re busy at work we are beginning to hit our stride. We have resumed our Spanish lessons and that is going well also. For the first time in my teaching career I have the opportunity to teach students who I had the year before as well. It’s great to start the year with a relationship and working knowledge of the students as well.

As far as a volcano update, we are constantly checking the news and hearing things from other people. We were told that it’s now not an IF question but a WHEN question. We have loaded up on water, canned food, tape (for sealing the windows), and ash masks. We are as prepared as possible. Rumors are circulating about when things are going to go down but to the best of my knowledge no one really knows. It’s kind of odd to compare how people are preparing for the volcano with other experiences I’ve had with natural disasters. Pretty much my only experiences constitute a few hurricanes and blizzards. Those at least give you a warning of when to expect the worst. This volcano thing just has everyone on the edge of their seats holding their breath.

We did get to see it for ourselves while on our way back from Otavalo last weekend (more on that later) and it was crazy to see.

Anyway, we are in a groove of school and awaiting a volcanic explosion. We hope it’s not too serious but all we can do in the meantime is hope. We are still doing some planning for the wedding little by little and have a few weekend trips planned for the coming months. To any family and friends reading this, we miss you all and look forward to seeing you all soon.