Ecuador V: Camera-toting Boobies

Amigos y amigas.  As some of you know...

 

I left cuenca on a Wednesday, which meant salsa dancing at La Mesa until 1 AM before catching the 1:30 bus to Guayaquil. I slept soundly. And by 10 AM local time I was in Baltra...

 

I spent much of the last week on the Sea Man (an unfortunate name, I admit) motor yacht, flitting back and forth across the equator and around the Galapagos Islands. There were 15 passengers, myself included, 6 crew members, and Galo, our enthusiastically endemic and moderately hyperactive guide.

 

Each night we got briefed on the next day's activities. For example, the bell sounded at 6:45 the first night, just before dinner, and Galo clapped his hands once everyone was assembled and said, 'tomorrow we going to see the rrrred footed boobies for everywhere! An we going to see the frigate birds an the sea lions.' And we did see them. For everywhere. That's the strange and surreal thing about the Galapagos-- it's like a giant zoo, with strange and unique species confined to specific ecosystems on specific islands. And there are no large natural predators for many of the species, so they have no fear of humans. Their blasé attitude as a band of snapshot-happy tourists comes tramping along is almost disappointing. Where's the thrill of the chase?  I felt vaguely as though we were smut-searching paparazzi and our subjects were porn stars only too willing to comply.

 

 

 

But let's not be too negative. These critters big and small were weird and fun and, in the end, wild (during our last snorkel with sea lions 3 people got bitten. Jackasses). 

 

So there are 3 kinds of boobies in galapagos 'Endemic! you find nowhere else on earth!' (one of Galo's most oft uttered phrases). I personally feel that the rrrrred footed and nazca boobies are brilliant and have gotten shoddy press coverage, but the blue footed ones are certainly proud of their feet.

 

It had been a while since I'd snorkeled and I'd forgotten the strangeness of it.  'Abort! Abort!' my instincts screamed, 'You can't breathe under water, fool!'  But after a bit i was feeling mermaid-esque with my speedy flippers and underwater grace.  then i saw the sea lions. And it occurred to me that if the ocean is a circus, they are the acrobats and we are the clowns.  They dip and dive and twirl around each other as we pedal awkwardly out of the way, all plastic edges and goofy face-masks.

 

I'm in Quito now, going to Baños for some near-death experiences (I hope) before coming home in a week.

Ecuador IV

Hola everyone once again.

An abbreviated version of the Life of Haley.

I have one week left in cuenca before (fingers crossed) bopping off to the Galapagos, then meandering to Quito before flying to boston may 30th/31st, and arriving home to Maine June 2nd.

I will miss cuenca.  I've found a nice routine here, and Ecuadorian and gringo friends. Yesterday, after trying for two weeks, I finally started my volunteer work at an art school for mentally disabled people in a suburb of Cuenca. So now I have spanish class in the morning, lunch with Teresa or Emma or sola, and homework and volunteering in the afternoon. And tonight it's lady's night at a fancy bar before trying my salsa skills on the floor at THE salsa place in town. Gotta pack it all in before I pack my bags...  I still haven't been to the major museum here to see the indigenous displays and the shrunken heads. But it's on the list...

There is so much to report since last week...  the Salsa and Ceviche night with Teresa (Teresita!) et al, hiking with Emma to a wild and violent waterfall outside of Cuenca. Spanish lessons trip along rather well, but there's still so much to learn... 

Also, this happened: I was purified with an egg.

Ecuador III: Building the Ark

The animals line up outside my door.  Pairs of them, and patient. 

 

I exaggerate.  It does rain with gusto every day, but there are stretches of sun that can be really convincing before they´re squelched by purple storm clouds....

 

Sunday afternoon I went for a ride with my roommate Rubén and a few of his friends in the countryside outside of Cuenca. There was jacobo (que estaba bien volando), who swears like a sailor and dresses like teenage Eurotrash (it´s actually rather endearing.  he looks about 12 and uses so much gel that his hair looks like it was glued in place as one cohesive unit). Then there was Maira, a lawyer who draws on her eyebrows with admirable precision and was trying her damnedest to include my stammering Spanish/gibberish in the conversation. Then Rubén, my roommate, a portly dude who enjoys laughing, and his little girlfriend, Antonieta, who is from the coast and speaks as though her tongue´s just received a shot of Novacaine.  And me, feeling very blonde and very nauseous.

 

Ya. So we drove around, beautiful countryside, etc, until we found a tiny little town with a bar, which had ´one old soldier every died´ written ominously over its colorful purple and red door. We had no money, but the bartender ushered us in anyway. He looked exactly like an aged Che and his other patrons were two prostitutes and their johns drinking shots of whiskey at 3 in the afternoon. There were saddles on the barstools and blocks of wood to sit on around the tables. And the walls made no attempt at hiding the daylight seeping in between their boards. The whole place was strangely cheerful in spite of itself. The five of us split a beer and chatted with the...locals. One of the guys asked me where I was from and when I replied ´near Canada´ he asked, ´Maine? Portland? Lewiston? Bangor?´  I almost fell out of my saddle. Lewiston?!  

 

In other news, the population of 19-58 Calle Luis Cordero has grown. Antonieta, Rubén's sassy chaquita girlfriend, who visited last weekend, was back again on Friday.  On Monday when I asked her if she would still be around at the end of the day, she said, 'I´m here until may 12'.  Hm.  News to me.  later that night a guy named Enri(que) stopped by to drop of a computer...  and tv...  and his clothes...  'Enri's going to live with us now,' said Rubén, cheerfully.  ¡Que bueno!  more people to torture with my Spanish...  actually, Enri is usually absent and when he´s here is so quiet that I barely notice him. He´s maybe 40 and I don´t even know what he does... 

 

That's all for now, so chao.