The Cat That Died In Puerto Lopez and Was Resurrected Later That Night or Erin´s Ill-Fated Trip to Puerto Lopez that Underwent a Revival at Night

"Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things
Rotting fast in their sleep of the dead"

While working at the orphanage, I took a break on the advice of Carolina, a local biologist (the same woman who owns the land around the orphanage and preserves it for the monkeys) and went to Peurto Lopez. Puerto Lopez is located in Machalilla National Park, which is one of the largest remaining areas of coastal forest. While riding on the bus with Carolina, she was able to tell me all about the land and wildlife of the park, as well as the efforts to protect the park from poachers and other damage. She encouraged me to take a tour out to Isla de la Plata the next day. Isla de la Plata is often referred to as "the poor man´s Galapagos" in guide books, but Carolina explained that it deserves its own credit. Unlike the Galapagos, it is the only place where all three species of boobie (blue footed, red footed and white) exist together.

I left the orphanage in a hurry in order to catch the next bus to Puerto Lopez, therefore I did a very poor job of packing the small back pack I took with me. I made it to Puerto Lopez without a hat, a long sleeve shirt, or a swim suit. When I realized this, I wondered a little if I am really capable of traveling down here or if I have just had good luck so far. I also thought of a few other miscellaneous items I needed and I needed to sign up for a tour to the island. Once I got to my hostel, I set out to take care of these errands -- or at least attempt to. Upon leaving my otherwise pleasant hostel, I noticed a pretty white cat sleeping in the outdoor common area. I bent down to pet the cat, and when I did, the cat didn´t move. I stood up and watched the cat, but didn´t see it breath. I had several thoughts at that point: "eww, I touched a dead cat," "this hostel would be pretty nice if only someone would move the dead cat," and "the poor owners. . . maybe they don´t know their cat is dead." The cat became a metaphor for how the rest of my evening went.

First, I was unable to find a tour that was actually leaving the next day. Then I had to go to four or five different stores to find what would be common items in the States -- a black pen, ear plugs, face soap and something to take care of the strange heat rash I had developed upon arriving at the coast. I didn´t even attempt to deal with my lack of clothing. I have noticed that I become rather mercurial being in a foreign country. For example, when I attempted to mail a package from Latacunga, I had multiple problems finding a box, finding tape and getting the post office to agree to mail the package-- during this fiasco, I would go from being totally hopeless, to ridiculously proud that I did something as simple as buy tape. After I successfully mailed the package it felt like I had won the lotto. I had similar mood swings while attempting to run errands in Puerto Lopez. Eventually, however, I found some of the items I needed and found out that I could probably add on to a tour more successfully in the morning. All of a sudden, my night got a lot better with just a little luck and success. Fittingly, when I got back to the hostel at the end of the night, the cat (whom I had passed several times and was still dead for the whole afternoon and evening) was magically resurrected! I kid not. It was now a totally normal standing, moving, meowing cat now that the sun had gone down. Seems like the night was looking up for both of us. Maybe the sun was as hard on the cat as it has been on me.

In the morning I succeeded in joining a tour to Isla de la Plata. It was definitely worth the trip. I even met two other students from UW in the group! How strange. But not as strange as meeting a girl in Baños who grew up in Moscow, Idaho.

I tried for a Sufjan-esque title for you Conor.

Volcanos and Orphanages

"Well you roll on roads over fresh green grass
For your lorry loads pumping petrol gas
And you make them long, and you make them tough
But they just go on and on, and it seems that you can't get off
Oh, I know we've come a long way,
We're changing day to day,
But tell me, where do the children play?"

I spent a week at an orphanage on the coast of Ecuador near a town called Manta. I had heard about this place while in a microbiology lab last year. My lab partners and I were discussing my trip and another student who I didn't know at the time overheard us. He told me he had a cousin in Ecuador who ran an orphanage and that I could go there if I wanted.

I had a little trouble making it to the orphanage. First, I got a little side tracked by a group of travellers I met in the small Andean town of Latacunga. They were mostly travelling alone, but had all met at various places along the way. There were 4 girls from Holland, 1 guy from the UK and one guy from Canada. Brian, the Canadian, found out I was from Seattle, so for the rest of the trip he kept explaining to everyone else in the group that I was "one of those new-age hippies". I’m not sure what exactly that means, but I had to stop arguing with him when he guessed that I liked rock climbing, ate granola with soy yogurt and drove a Subaru. All of this is true.

I spent a couple of days with the group in Latacunga, where we hiked up the Cotopaxi Volcano. We made it to the glacier line, but going farther would have required two days and technical equipment. Regardless, we hiked up to 4900 meters (16,076 feet) -- to put this in perspective, the summit Mt. Rainier is 4392 meters (14,411 feet). I definitely felt short of breath at this altitude. After the hike, my new friends convinced me to take a detour to Baños, which was way out of the way but very beautiful. I explored the surrounding hills riding a "horse" that more resembled a prehistoric ancestor of what I think of as a modern horse. I decided I will probably forgo riding for the rest of this trip to spare myself the sight of these bony creatures.

The bus trip out to the coast ended up taking two days instead of one due to some combination of the following facts: I got the flu the night before leaving, I had headed backward by detouring to Baños, I didn’t want to get into Manta in the middle of the night, and the authors of Lonely Planet can’t estimate distances to save their lives. I ended up staying over night in an industrial town/city that was not in my guide book. A local man on a motorcycle took pity on me walking down the street in the dark carrying a huge backpack and sweating excessively in the 90 degree heat, so he escorted me to the nearest (safe) hotel. I had found one earlier, but decide that it was more of a "motel" rather than a "hotel". A motel in Ecuador is not a place I would like to stay for reasons that will be left unsaid here.

I had no idea what to expect before arriving at the orphanage. I was in touch with a woman named Pearl who I knew was in charge of running the orphanage. I also knew that the orphanage had only opened a year ago and had 12 children living there. I was told that there were many things I could do to help out, including helping to build new buildings, gardening and supervising the kids while hiking or swimming at the beach. When I arrived, I was stunned! The orphanage consists of three houses: one completed house for the children and parents, a second house being built for more children and a second set of parents and one house being built for volunteers. The land is located in a rural area, with a small town where the children go to school about 15 minutes away. The land surrounding the orphanage is owned by friends who are maintaining the land as habitat for the local howler monkeys, birds and other wildlife.

Pearl does not actually live at the orphanage, but Peter and Juanita, a couple with grown children of their own, live there for free in exchange for caring for the 12 children. The group acts just like any other family, the children refer to each other as brothers and sisters and to Peter and Juanita as their father and mother. This is all quite amazing to me seeing as all the children have only been living there for a year and many are fairly old, 12 -15. They are amazingly resilient.

I spent most of my time there painting the new volunteer house and playing with the children in the afternoon. My friend from the microbiology class, Evan, was there with his girlfriend. They have been traveling around Ecuador for almost 2 months now. I had no idea they would be working there the same time I was. It was a pleasant suprise. The children are all very bright, despite limited education before the last year. They are very friendly and work together well to make the household run smoothly. I got a little taste of what it truly takes to make that place work when Juanita convinced me to make pizza for the kids one night. Cooking in a foreign country where you can't find ingredients you are used to is difficult enough, cooking for a total of 18 people is even harder, and the most difficult is cooking for 18 people in a foreign country with 4 to 5 children literally hanging off your arms.

This experience has thus far been my most rewarding experience while travelling. Not only was I able to give back to the community by doing some volunteer work, I also felt that I was really able to get to know a part of the community. The orphanage already runs mostly on donations provided by the local community, which I found impressive, particularly in Ecuador. Nevertheless, I plan to keep in touch with this incredible place and hope to be able to continue to help them in the future.

Adjustments to Life as a Nomad

"If I send you postcards from the side of the road
Photographs of moving parts about to implode
If I crawl to keep it together like you say you know I can do
To transmit the moment from me to you"

Hello everyone! Sorry it has taken me so long to write something. I guess it has only been 10 days since I left the States, but it feels like longer. I have definitely needed some adjusting to my new life as a nomad. I can't say it has been totally easy, but I think I'm getting the hang of it. Like Brook, my Bonderman advisor said there would be, there have already been many times where I have questioned what exactly it is I am doing here or what it is that I'm supposed to be doing. The short answer, I suppose, is "nothing", the long answer is "everything".

I flew into Quito, Ecuador as my first stop. I think this decision definitely forced me to jump head first into my travels. I stayed at a new hostel, owned by an Australian, between El Mariscal Sucre (aka Gringo Landia) and El Centro Historico. I did this on purpose, as I didn't really want to be in a 'party hostel' as is often found in Lonely Planet. This plan may have backfired a little, as there was almost no one at this hostel and the neighborhood is dead, and therefore not safe to go out in, at night. All this added to my feeling of isolation and general dread about what exactly it is I am supposed to be doing. Quito, it seems, may have this effect on people, as Jenny (another Bonderman fellow) mentioned the same thing. Or maybe the mutual feeling was due to it being the start of both of our journeys.

This was all in the first 12 to 24 hours though, and things did get better quickly. I spent Sunday exploring El Centro Historico, which has the greatest concentration of colonial buildings and churches. That morning, I had what I would consider my first true Bonderman experience, for whatever it was worth. Being macho (for a girl) and stupid, I decided to take my doxycycline (which I take as an anti malarial) with only juice in the morning, even though I knew it had a tendency to upset my stomach. An hour into walking around, I began to feel extremely nauseous. I hoped the feeling would pass, but it didn't. I began to become afraid that I was actually going to vomit in the street in front of all the Ecuadorean families out for a pleasant Sunday morning. So I did what any not so sane tourista would do, I wandered into a neighborhood where my hostel owner specifically told me not to go, in hopes that it would be less crowded. It wasn't. So I found one of the many small open front stores that appeared to sell some bread and croaked 'necesito pan'. The old woman who sold me a roll for 6 cents, took one look at me and told me to sit down in her chair. I am pale even by US standards, but at that moment, I must have looked like a walking ghost to her. The bread helped immensely and I was able to have a conversation with her and meet her children. I hope she knows how grateful I was for that bread!

The rest of my time in Quito continued to improve. I met some medical students, Luis and Javier, from Guayaquil, spending their vacation in Quito. They were a couple of years younger than me, since they were still in the undergraduate phase of their education. They complete all 8 years at once here, deciding on a profession at 18. I would be in a lot of trouble if I had to do that. I spent two afternoons with these boys, which certainly jump started my Spanish, as neither one spoke English. We didn't do much other than bar hop in the Mariscal, but I figured the Spanish practice was worth it. They seemed to know just about everyone in the neighborhood, so I was able to meet lots of people. Interestingly, all the people I met were boys. Not coincidental I think. I met one guy who lives on one of the Galapagos Islands and invited me to stay with him when I am out there. I haven't decided whether I'm going to or not. One problem I've found with making friends with the local men is that they are often pushy and disappointed when you don't want to be their new girlfriend.

Both nights, I ended up taking the same taxi back to my hostel, even though there where tons of taxis lining the streets. This, I'm sure, will not be the last serendipitous event during the trip. I had "It's a Small World After All" playing in my head during the ride back the second night. I think Conor was the one to first use this reference in his blog, so that's probably why I remembered that song.

By the way, songs have been speaking a lot to me lately, so I will try to start blogs with a relevant quote. If you guess the song and artist, you get. . . well. . . my respect (?)