A sojournista's open letter to her parents

We ran towards the ocean as the waves crashed towards the shore as the tide was coming in and then the waves crashed into our bodies and I heard myself laugh in that free and genuine way, when your soul is so spirited and I felt so alive that in that moment I had to wonder if I would someday think about this day and believe that it was a dream. As I pondered this, the sun, mostly obscured by a blanket of clouds, revealed itself in its orange and pink fiery brilliance, drawing closer to the horizon. And I once again asked myself, "Is this my life?" and the reply came, "This is your life." And it was a moment when I knew I was just where I was supposed to be...

For many months I have been struggling to find an eloquent way to explain what my time abroad has really been, why I decided to stay a third year in Quito, and why I am contemplating other international posts.

I've become quite articulate with some of my sentiments, and in describing many of my experiences, but here I still struggle. Most of my tales are of trips to Mindo, doing yoga in (mostly) peaceful places with scenic views of the mountains, and having all sorts of adventures as I climb these mountains. Through narrating these accounts, I seek to share quirky and cool episodes, and, hopefully to entertain a reader or two. With the reflections embedded in the posts, I also strive to share wisdom...but still, the real depth of life abroad is not wholly present. Because it's really not about chocolatey and beachy adventures at its heart, it's about digging down deep into myself.

I sometimes talk of my wanderlust, but what lies within is so much greater and deeper than lust, which is fickle and founded on impermanence and fleeting desire. No, this is not about lust, it is about a true love for new lands and the mysteries one may begin to uncover living within their borders.

I've spent some time in the past wishing I was someone different to some extent. I have envied Linds' self-assuredness in making swift decisions and Cass' confidence in speaking her mind, especially when it's laced with a bit of sassiness. This, in part, was why I felt drawn abroad. The strength I have uncovered within myself does not surprise me, but it was buried beneath a surface that needed a distance to reveal itself. I am a Baci-Marquart through and through, so proud and grateful to be so, but I have needed such an experience that would push my ability to be independent to discern who, really, is Jamie.

Why I couldn't have done this growing and evolving in Minnesota I may still not be answering so clearly; one can challenge herself whatever her geographic location, of course, but the draw was something bigger than me. When listening to that intuitive voice, when feeling the magnetic force of it, it is something beyond myself that guides me. This I have come to recognize as God's energy.

And intuition is a fascinating feeling. When following it, one may be able to articulate some of where the sense arises from, but so much is initially unseen, bringing clarity in hindsight, but still, perhaps, only partly so. When I signed that contract nearly three years ago, I could explain in part why I was drawing my name on that dotted line, but what this epoca de mi vida has been is so much more than I could have wondered at at the moment I accepted the position to teach at Americano.

This time abroad has brought me to be who I am meant to be; it is who I always was, but parts of me were buried under insecurity and doubt, and perhaps, for me, just not having the right space to push myself so profoundly.

During my nights of sleeplessness, I have done a good deal of soul-searching. Wanting to be most honest with myself, the revolving questions being Am I being selfish in making this decision? Is this life about indulgence? While I will not call it completely selfless, my motivations for being abroad are not altogether self-serving. I want to better myself. The more you evolve yourself, the more you are able to give to others and the world at large. This is how I have been called to evolve.

So in these past few years, but especially within the months of this third year, whatever sand that had been shifting within the foundation of my self has turned to smooth and solid marble. Never have I felt so sure-footed and confident. I am certain it was only by pushing my boundaries this far that I have come to build such a strength within myself. This woman that I am now, I am more capable of being what the world needs of me. I can't define that, I still might not even know what that is, but I have a deeper capacity to be that. 

I know whatever my struggles in reading a map and knowing east from west, and north from south, my heart makes up in being my keen compass. I don't know which direction I walk next year, but I am not lost. I trust in my wisdom to follow what my heart speaks. Whatever my choice, there are difficult tradeoffs, but whatever my choice, as Dad told me in the midst of a tumultuous time, the best times still lie ahead.

Still sometimes the conviction in my rather newfound poise and confidence does not buffer the pain of being so far from home. Missing milestone events, and just the everyday...dinners, Bocceball tournaments, evenings in front of the fireplace watching Modern Family. And this, I learn time and again, is life. Beauty mixed with heartache. Tears mixed with laughter.

As I am curled up on my couch in Quito, my resounding feeling tonight is one of gratitude. For the life you have blessed me with, for the privileges, of which I am so much more aware, you have granted me, and for your unending support and unconditional love. And here I will always fall short in saying my love for you, but I hope you feel the profoundness of that love across the continental lines.

So precious are our days, especially as we live them with such love and good health. And so priceless is the time I am home, cooking for my favorite people, spending nights with dominoes on the table, and hearing my laugh mingle with yours. I cannot wait to hug you and be hugged by you.

Les amo a la luna y lejos, Mom and Dad. <3 <3 <3

Your Jame

P.S. I think it is time for more South American adventures.

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God speaks to each of us as he makes us,

then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,

go to the limits of your longing.

Embody me.

Flare up like a flame

and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.

Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.

You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

Rainer Maria Rilke
Book of Hours, I 59

Summiting a Snowcapped Volcano, A How-To Guide

In the summer of 2002, Dad took Jenn, Jake and me on a camping trip to Montana. During our week stay, we swam in some hot springs, and that was cool -- or, rather, quite warm -- we hung out with Dad's old college buddies a bit, which was also a lovely time, and then we hiked to the ridge of the mountain on which we were camping. And that was scary. Really scary. I kept sliding down the shale, certain I was going to fall to sudden death. I distinctly remember thinking how I hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye and I love you to all of my people. This is how my mind rolls sometimes, deep, and dark, and anxious. Clearly we made if off the mountain without the sort of drama I had whipped up in my brain; Dad would never have taken us on any real dangerous treks. No...no, only I would take myself on the riskier climbs...13 years later.  I do not know what has happened to me since that summer...except, you know what, I do. I've buckled down and determined that I rule my roost here. Fears do not control me and worry does not win. So, (within reason, Mom) I take calculated risks. This past weekend, Alli and I set out to summit Cayambe, a really big-ass, snowcapped volcano here in Ecuador. 

Cayambe had begun to call to use this autumn, in a way that Vikram Oberoi articulates: “When the wind calls, you know, that somewhere in the mountains, it has found the answers that you were looking for. The pull of the horizon overcomes the inertia of reason…And you just have to go.”

The following is our advice for how to commence such a mission...

Step 1: Join a climbing club
While one could plausibly climb some of the Ecuadorian Andes with merely a map and a couple of adventurous amigos, to avoid getting lost in the descending fog, or getting struck by lightning on Rucu Pichincha, it is wisest to join a climbing club. To save you the time and effort it takes to research a reputable empresa, I will tell you there is only one sensible choice: Paypahuasi.
The benefits of this group are as follows:
1. Security:
The knowledgeable (y guapos y fuertes) guides will be willing to lend their hand (and legs and encouragement) on sketchy rock scrambles (note: You can simultaneously be a badass, independent woman and not too proud to say yes to a manly mano), they will be willing to put you on a leash to get your booty to the cumbre, and they will know the shortcuts to take when thunderstorms break out on the mountain
2. Transportation:
While you will need to arise long before the sun to embark on the climbs leading up to the Big Kahuna, you will still be able to count some (mis)fit sheep while someone else navigates the road. This also ensures that you will not end up in Cuenca when trying to reach the base of Corazón.
3. Camaraderie: 
Even if you are one of two, three or four trekking gringos, you will be warmly welcomed into the community of Ecuadorian climbers. They will offer their hands when a guide is not nearby, their snacks at mountain rest stops, and big abrazos at the cumbres. In union there is strength, said the Ancient Greek story-teller Aesop, and this union is built through enduring wind, rain, sleet and snow together.  
4. Celebratory Toast: While Pilsener may not be your drink of choice when out for an elegant dinner, it proves to satiate your thirst in the jungle, on the beach, and when saying ¡Salud! in a celebratory toast after a successful summit. Paypahuasi is always up for a pit stop on the way home.

Note: You may find this time of enlistment the approriate time to assure your parents that you will only climb with Paypahuasi so far into their mountain cycle. No one needs to push beyond the four cumbres of Pichincha, and it would be downright silly to consider summiting Cotopaxi, one of Ecuador's snowcapped, active volcanoes. 

Step 2: Locate your mountain-climbing soulie
It is useful to establish a criteria for your adventure-seeking, pain-embracing partner in crime. The following are recommended qualities:

• encouraging, especially when you are hanging on to a rock while looking down the drop-off
• positive in the face of rain, sleet and snow
• baker of many endurance snacks, and eager to share with you
• physically strong, perhaps having completed many fierce Ironman competitions
• being something of a morning person, willing to rise at ridiculous hours 

Alli, exhibiting quality #2, on the Pichincha trek.

Not a mandatory quality, but a welcome one is a mountain-climbing soulmate with a cigar-smoking husband who will offer you a Cuban and a chair on their balcony where he will talk you off the ledge of anxiety induced by his wife's idea to climb the snowcapped volcano to begin with...which brings us to the next step...

Step 3: Choose your challenge
After summiting a number of Andean mountains, you will likely find your sights are set higher and higher. As high as 18,996 feet, in fact. As Cotopaxi has come back to life and is blowing a great deal of ash into the atmosphere, your previous parental reassurance not to scale those snowy slopes was no falsehood. Instead a wiser choice is Cayambe. The abysmal and beautiful crevasses that lace the mountain make this choice even more exciting, and will prove to inspire a great deal of anxiety, as previously mentioned, making this challenge that much more purposeful because it will become about more than a summit, but also about personal growth.

One of many crevasses that you may encounter. You'll need a running start to fly over some of them,
but be weary not to run too quickly, lest you run right off of the mountain.

Step 4: Secure Supplies
Now that you have named your challenge, it is important to acquire the appropriate gear and buy, or bake, the best food for your belly so that you may increase the comfort and enjoyment of the climbs that prepare you for Cayambe. A stop at the local climbing shop will prove fruitful (for your body, less so for your bank account) as it is recommended you purchase 1. compression socks, especially important if you have problems with circulation and prefer to avoid amputation of your toes,             2. waterproof pants (because someone in a region experiencing a draught has clearly done a rain dance on the day of nearly every climb and the dark clouds will pass over your path on the way to wherever they are really needed), 3. a buff (you may think you're cute when you sing "I can´t feel my face when I'm with you, and I love it, and I love it" at the cumbres, but it's actually more fun if you can feel your face)

In addition to the gear, you'll need to pack fuel to keep from looking like a neglected flower wilting in the sun on a certain Quiteño terrace. In a hurry, you may grab dried fruit and nuts from the nearby grocery store, but if you are feeling more ambitious, the following treats have proven to aid in helping climbers endure and enjoy long treks: 1. cinnamon pecan granola, 2. gingersnaps, and 3. quinoa coconut bars. It is also strongly suggested that you pack 2-3 dark chocolate bars to share with your soulie at the summit.

Step 5: Face down your fears
If Step 3 has you feeling a little queazy as you come to terms with the significance of what you have verbally signed up for, you are not alone. It is entirely normal to dream about Cayambe, wake up each morning feeling as if you have spent the night hyperventilating, and to daily question your student who moonlights--and yes, moonlights is the appropriate term here as you begin snowcapped mountain treks in the middle of the night--as a guide how dangerous he thinks this particular mountain is, really. There are a couple of things that you can do here to ease some of the tension. First, make up a mantra. Repeat the mantra during workouts, on the bus, and in between sentences when speaking with your soulie. It is most useful to use a mantra that has a rhythm as you'll need to use it when methodically mounting the mountain. If you can add in some alliteration, that's fun too.
You'll find it especially amusing if you are of a literary liking. An example of such a mantra may be Climb Cayambe, to the cumbre. Now, the next step is to post this mantra all over social media, really for the sake of holding yourself accountable. You can't put those words out there for weeks on end just to back down. That would be foolish and embarrassing. Your friends may tire of you filling their feeds with your motto, in addition to inspirational mountain quotes, photos of overstuffed packs and countdowns, but no matter, you have chosen good friends who love you in spite of your quirks, goofiness and obsessive mountain posts; they (most of them) will not unfollow you, but rather supportively like all of your output and offer a great deal of heartening encouragement.

Step 6: Become accustomed to the equipment
As you approach the day of the Cayambe ascent, you will no longer refer to what you are doing as hiking or trekking, but rather high altitude climbing. When summiting a snowcapped mountain, you will need to use a pickaxe, and mountaineering boots with crampons attached. It is highly recommended that you attend Escuela de Hielo, or Ice School, in order to learn how to appropriately use the equipment and become acquainted with how these clumsy boots feel on your feet. What this is largely about is becoming accustomed to the pain the boots will induce in your shins, but hey, you'll have battle wounds to bare when you're detailing the experience to others. To keep things positive, though, Ice School does lend itself to more bonding and stunning views, which will remind you of why your insanity is acceptable. 

The sun may be so intense you wish that you had packed your bikini, but avoid the desire to strip down
in the face of the scorching rays. Second degree burns will not make for good sleep in the following days. 

This...this will inspire your hopes and dreams of that big summit.
This induces quick amnesia of fear and pain, at least momentarily.

Step 7: Let go of modesty
To be frank, you are going to have to come to terms with bearing your bum in public. The training you do to prepare for the snowcapped summit will start to predispose you for this reality as you will begin by having to pee publicly, at first behind a boulder or large tree on earlier hikes, and then you will graduate to sticking your butt out of a tent as the refugio may be full when your posse shows up for Ice School. 

Despite the close proximity of the tents, this will feel like a safe space to pee in retrospect.

As you're echando de aguas, praying no one steps out of their tent to spotlight you with their flashlight, you may begin to worry about...pooping. And the thoughts begin to spin: What if I have to take a dump on this big climb? Altitude can do funny things to my tummy. Should I try Smooth Move tea the day before the climb to just cleanse....oh, but the last time I drank that... But the deal is, everybody poops. Though not everybody poops in front of their headlamp bearing peers, which is realistically what you may end up doing. Thus, an important note: Considering these immodest situations that are bound to arise, it is wise to mindfully consider who you entreat to be your fearless leader. It may seem exciting to ask one of the most handsome guias to guide you, until this moment. And then you will mortifyingly wonder at your lack of foresight, so head this warning now. 

Step 8: Find your fight song
The final 7-14 days before you embark on scaling the snowy (and very steep) slope are crucial for keeping up your moral. Similar to many other transformative experiences--such as getting married, having a child, or moving abroad--as the date approaches, the emotional pendulum will swing more severely in both directions, so that your heart will race with excitement and then you will sweat with the fear of regret. This is where the fight song comes in handy. You want something you can play in the moments that you aren't repeating your mantra to get you pumped. up. A song that makes you feel fierce. And a song that drives your determination. That song may just be Eminem's Lose Yourself. But remember not to take the title literally. Lose yourself, but not on the mountain, or in the mountain. Here, visualize losing yourself in the moment because "You own it, you better never let it go you only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime." 

And then, before you know it, it's go time ...

Step 9: Establish a ritmo and get gritty
As the day of the climb has arrived, you will join up with your fellow trekkers (crazy-mad-gambling peoples) to leave the city in the late morning, to arrive to the refugio by afternoon, to "sleep" until 10:30 pm, to get up and start climbing by 11:30 pm, a charming and eery moonlit hour on the mountain. You now don your favorite blue helmet, equipped with a headlamp, do your best to quell the nerves, and get your march on. It is best not to project more than the next step into the future as this could lead to losing the will to live. You didn't pack the white flag for a reason; there is no surrender. Make use of that mantra and match your steps to that of your guide's. Remember Kerouac's words: In the end, you won't remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain. 

Step 10: Accept that summits are not always glamorous, but pride and glory are
On a number of other climbs, you likely arrived at the summit still looking stylish and triumphant. Endorphins began pumping through your veins almost instantaneously, so that even if it was raining and windy, you could grin and bear it without having to employ your acting skills too deeply. Well, forget that. This summit will be something quite different. It is best to launch off from the refugio expecting to indeed arrive at the cumbre, which will be less about the good luck your friends and family wished you when you departed from the city, and more about the fortitude you have found within yourself. But expect to arrive a disheveled, icy mess. It is possible, and more, likely, that your face will be too frozen to smile. You may be surprised at the speed at which you want to end the stay at the summit and just get back down the damn mountain. No Emmy worthy performance is even within conjuring distance at this point. Looking down at yourself, you may wonder why your mother never told you that you are a near relative to the Abominable Snowman, but then, she keeps almost telling you that you're adopted, because that is the only explanation for why you're at the top of a mountain, freezing your pants off, and she and the family are chillin' by a fireplace, sipping hot toddies, so it's probable that she didn't know to tell you about your sharing genes with a yeti-like creature because she didn't know of the relation. 

“It’s not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.” ~Sir Edmund Hillary

The thing is, you may not wholly comprehend what you have just done until much later than the usual mountain high. And that's okay. You've managed to take a few photos, and you'll be able to stare at these memories for long moments, mesmerized by the crevasses, reminded of your beautiful mistake to look down one before leaping over it. You'll laugh at the fake, goofy, I don't know, do we even call those grins, that you and your best climbing amiga are wearing in the photo from the top. And the next day, and for days and weeks to come, you'll marvel at yourself, your friend, and the majesty of that mountain. 

"And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far into the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." ~Rainer Maria Rilke

Afterward: 
Some people walk into this climb blind. Sometimes they summit, sometimes they don't. Sometimes you prepare for months, and sometimes you summit and sometimes you don't. For me, though, to have skipped the weeks of training--visualizing, chatting out my fears with Alli and Charles, Zening my disquietude with a good deal of yoga--this would have been missing the mark. Cayambe was much more than a grand summit. It was an exercise in facing down my fears and looking anxiety in the eye...and not backing down. I have begun to write for the Chicago-based blog aSweatLife. My latest post on this empowering and positive fitness blog was about the process of overcoming this anxiety. 

So now, how about some Christmas shopping?? I am not wishing the time away, but I am looking forward to curling up on some couches, sipping some wine and catching up with my dear friends and family. 

So much love from the south.

Jame

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You were born with wings, why do you prefer to crawl through life?

~Rumi