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 (?)