la playa se llama Same

I had a typical Ecuadorian moment last Tuesday. I was with Amanda and Michelle, two other teachers from Americano, and we had taken a taxi from school to the bus station to buy tickets for the beach for last weekend. Michelle had called ahead and was told that we could only buy tickets 48 hours in advance, hence our Tuesday trip to the station. So, we walk up to the ticket window and ask to buy 4 tickets to Same (Saa-may) for Thursday after school (the three of us plus my friend Vale, another teacher at Americano, my new Quiteña amiga, were planning to travel together). Well, as it turns out, there were only two seats left on the bus. Big groan. Okay, here comes Ecuadorian moment #2 (which is much sweeter than moment #1): I call Vale to tell her about our conundrum. Her response: buy the two tickets and then one of you can ride with me and my parents. While South America and its ever-changing rules can be mind-boggling at times, I have been so fortunate to be meeting and spending time with such wonderful people.

In addition to packing me in her parents' car, Vale also gave us a great recommendation for accommodations in Same. Vale's friend Jaime runs beach cabañas at a place called El Rampiral. It was serendipitous that I ran into Vale in the teacher's lounge before booking a place in Atacames, a beach close to Same, because Atacames would have been a lot more action, when what the chicas needed this weekend was some good R&R. El Rampiral is a bit rustic, but we fell asleep to the sound of the ocean waves each night and our cabin had an ocean front view. Serendipity is one of my favorite words. So is tranquility.

Though, before the tranquilo life of the coast, one must drive to the coast, which was less tranquilo y mas loco. With Vale's padre in the driver's seat, the best way I can describe the drive is to compare it to being in one of those racing video arcade games. Most of the way to Same from Quito is a two lane highway with little light; the roads are winding with plenty of blind curves. It's just standard for cars to zoom in front of one another, and Vale's dad is an expert car weaver. I did my best to take my cues from Vale and her madre. They dozed in and out of sleep much of the way, and if they trusted our driver this much, who was I to question his methods?

We did make one pit stop on the way to the very green province of Esmereldas: a little roadside restaurant that serves fritada, or fried pork. This is a popular Ecuadorian dish that my students have been encouraging me to try. I wasn't disappointed. From time to time I'll be okay to put down some of that salty, fatty, fried meat.

Moving along here, about 6 hours after leaving Carcelen, where school is located, we arrived in Same. Vale's parents dropped me off at El Rampiral to wait for mis amigas who were still en route via the bus. When they arrived around 11 pm, they did have a story to tell of course. About an hour outside of Same, they heard a noise that Amanda describes as a necklace breaking and all the beads tumbling to the floor. Turns out it was a window shattering. Someone had thrown a rock from outside of the bus in order to create a diversion. The hope is that the bus would then stop and bandits could board to rob the riders. Fortunately the bus did not stop until a bit later to clean up the mess. So, all in all, they arrived safely and with a bit of a story for my blog.

After sleeping quite soundly Thursday night, I woke up at 7 and took a run down the beach. Yes, hello, tranquility, there you are. It was a pretty cloudy day, and so there didn´t seem much purpose in putting on our swimsuits. Instead we donned t-shirts and jeans for some horseback riding. Jaime had only to walk us across the street to have a bit of adventure in the Esmereldan forest. Amanda pointed out the machete hanging from his belt, and I shrugged curiously at the sight of the long sword.

My little pony. Not the one I rode.

After I mounted the mare (who was in heat), and the others mounted the two colts and a stallion (who were quite aware of my horse´s state), I better understood why Jaime carried the machete. Bush-wacking. We were traveling on a trail, mas o menos, but it seemed not to be a trail much traveled. Throughout our ride, I was both in awe of the beauty around me, and quite aware of the way fear works within me. While I have ridden horses before, this environment was new for me, and my horse was being a bit moody. The unknown of how the experience would turn out--whether I would spend the whole time on my mare´s back, or whether I would have to plan an escape--detracted some from a deeper enjoyment of the experience. This is standard for me; apprehension holds me back from fully immersing myself. I say this with a bit of humor: I have found myself often wondering here, "Will I survive this experience?" At its root, anxiety is a fear of death. Death is a reality with which I have yet to come to terms. I am not trying to morbid, but I feel I need to make peace with this reality to cut down my anxieties and fears. I find myself appreciating an experience after it is over sometimes because, well, I lived through it, so now it is less scary and more cool. I want all the coolness during the experience, not afterwards.

Just starting out. Such a lush landscape.

Well, after living to tell about the horseback riding adventure, we needed to find a restaurant to dine at, of course. Another of Vale´s friends recommended this awesome, eclectic place that looks like this:

As you can see, eating at 7:30 is a bit early for the South Americans.

And the drinks looked like this:

The perfect piña colada.

And the food looked like this:

I love art that you eat.

So we looked like this:

Michelle and Amanda.

Michelle and Jamie.

After dinner, we retired to our beachside cabin, happy as clams. Reading and more sleeping ensued.

Our second beach day was no disappointment either. I started the day with another run down the beach. What struck me about Same is that the sound of the waves mutes all else. While you can see children playing and families enjoying each other's company, the waves crashing into shore was the soundtrack for the whole weekend. In her young adult novel, Tithe, Holly black writes, "She loves the serene brutality of the ocean, loves the electric power she felt with each breath of wet, briny air." The words that strike me most are "serene brutality." Let´s speak of oxymorons for a moment, mis estudiantes. There is a definite truth to this on the beach of Same. The waves crashed hard, almost violently against the shore all day and all night, but they were serene in their ability to mesmerize the woman watching their continual motion.

You know what brings deeper serenity? A massage on the beach, next to those constant waves. Yep, we all signed up for one of those. You know you´re in South America when the massuese comes to your beach and pushes around your swimsuit to kneed your booty with no hint of a shade or cover for your body. You also know you´re not in Kansas anymore when the massage costs a mere $20.

Despues de los masajes, we were invited to meet up with Vale and her family down the beach at Casa Blanca. The sun peaked in and out of the clouds all afternoon, and 30 spf sunscreen did not protect the gringita from a bit of a sunburn. Not to worry, though, it was nothing like the 2nd degree sunburn I got in Big Sky, Montana one summer years ago.

Around 4:00 pm Amanda, Michelle, and I followed the Izquerido family to their gorgeous flat overlooking the beach for a traditional almuerzo. Their cook served ceviche, pulpa (octopus), potato soup and for dessert Magnum ice cream bars. ¿Cómo se dice "I´m stuffed like a pig on Easter"? Do you ever get motion sickness from walking? Sometimes I almost do after such a delicious meal as that. We all needed to get horizontal to let our tummies rest, and then the plan was to go out with the rest of the locals for a seafood dinner around 10 pm. We never made it out of our beds that night. It was all good, though. A weekend of sleeping, eating, and reading is pretty perfect in my book.

We capped off the weekend with Vale and her family coming to the rescue once again (a good story will often end in a similar fashion to how it began). We were waiting for Jaime´s driver to pick us up and bring us to the bus station for our ride back to Quito and the clock was beginning to tick. After trying to call our driver and being thoroughly confused by his rapid speaking, I called Vale. She called the hombre and even she struggled to make out what he was trying to communicate, so she said she and her family would come and bring us to the station. When they arrived, Vale´s dad decided we would pile into the two cars (Vale´s brother and sister-in-law were with us now too) and head back to the city together. My gratitude towards her family is quite endless at this point, and then my heart is about to burst when we stop not once, but twice, on the way home in order to try some new, sweet foods: pan de yuca y yogurt and a tasty ice cream from an adorable little roadside shop. It´s a wonder my pants still zip.

This weekend I´ll be chilling in Quito, eating sushi, painting the living room and kitchen (well, repainting some), hopefully heading to the opening of a brewery, and hitting up the organic market. All good things.

How is Minnesota? or the States? or Europe? How is Jefferson? How are your beautiful children? Hearing from you is so wonderful, so please keep me updated.

Mucho amor,

Jame