The Chocolate Chippiest Summer School: Auntie Jamie's Little Sobrina School of Cooking

This part of summer always makes me think of The Great Gatsby. The connection between my reality and the classic is obscure, really, but Fitzgerald is able to make the feeling of summer -- and the way you can smell it, see it, sense it wane -- palpable. I'm certainly missing my Quito crowd, but a bit of apprehension of the near "nos vemos" is building. The beauty, though, in navigating between two worlds, is that when I'm home, staying in the present is nearly effortless. Time is fleeting always, but my awareness of that, and in turn, my recognition of the preciousness of each day, is quite keen now, at least for these sultry days that are too quickly melting into fall.

Really, the summer has been chalked full of playtime, and my favorite among the precious moments has been the time I've spent with my Chica Littles in the kitchen, conducting baking lessons at my very own Auntie Jamie's Little Sobrina School of Cooking.

If you ever have a hankering for a tasty treat, do read on, I'm about to share some delectable recipes, and even sweeter photos.

Recipe #1: Avocado Mint Cream Bars

My favorite sonrisas are made of chocolate, and some of it did manage to make its way onto the top of the bars. Full disclosure: the sobrinitas did not give this dessert rave reviews, but my palate was quite pleased. 

Recipe #2: Quinoa Coconut Granola Bars

You may want to eat the whole pan in one sitting.

Recipe #3: Almond Butter-Quinoa Blondies

This was one of Bapa's favorites! The blondies were nearly gone moments after their appearance onto the kitchen counter...and we made them several times. 

Recipe #4: Blueberry Muffins

One of the best things about this summer school: learning in our pjs. 

I found the concentration on her face each time she began mixing pretty priceless. 

Recipe #4: Carrot Muffins

These earned a big thumbs up from Jenn's 2-year-old son, Jay. He does also like sardines, but I think it's safe to say that kiddos and grown-ups alike could happily devour one or two of these fruit and veggie packed snacks. 

Recipe #5: Veggie Muffins

These muffins become meat and cheese sandwiches, and the way that Natalie was devouring them made my heart happy. 

poem by Ken Nesbitt, slight changes made by Auntie Jamie

My auntie ate my homework,

which I thought was rather odd.

She sniffed at it and smiled

with an approving sort of nod.

She took a little nibble --

it's unusual, but true --

then had a somewhat larger bite

and gave a thoughtful chew.

I think she must have liked it,

for she really went to town.

She gobbled it with gusto

and she wolfed the whole thing down.

She licked off all her fingers,

gave a burp and said, "You pass."

I guess that's how she grades you

when you're in her cooking class.

Recipe #6: Pink Cookie Dough Balls

Beets. The Chica Littles will eat beets if they come in tandem with chocolate chips. I felt so victorious. I just felt like...#winning.

Recipe #7: Fruit and Veggie Kabobs (whichever frutas y veduras fits your fancy here)

Cooking with and for friends makes food extra fun. Anah's chicitas, Grace and Leah, are as cute as they come, and we had a great time artistically creating our fare this day.

Recipe #8: Chocolate Cupcakes

After weeks of healthy treats, we concluded this summer's classes with cupcakes that aren't pretending to be particularly nutritious, but delicious all the same. In fact, in spite of a number of guests at the Baci's Bed and Breakfast, a couple survived the night. I'll be right back...

All summer, Izzy was into trying out new skills and flavors. She loves to crack the eggs...and taste bare vanilla and cinnamon.

Gia Boo was into the tangible math of it all.

#cupcakeassemblyline #workingtogether #learningtogether #baciblood #welovetoeat

As I often do with my high school students, I conducted a little exit survey at the end of our classes. I first asked las sobrinas what they had learned over the course of our baking sessions. Gia responded that she knew there was a 4 on the 1/4 cup and Nat said that now she knew there was such a thing as a 1/4 cup and a 1/3 cup. The following question was "What was your favorite part of baking?" Natalie immediately replied with "The brownies!" while Gia quickly followed with "Cupcakes and carrot muffins!" Huh. Absent was the "Hanging out with my auntie!" or "Learning from the best chef in the world!" Have you ever...fished for a compliment? I was doing just that, as I knew my response to "What was your favorite part of baking?" was "Hanging out with the coolest kids on the block and beyond." I don't often write questions for primary students, so I thought perhaps I just needed to reword the question and try again. "Okay, chicas, what was the coolest thing about cooking this summer?" Cool being the operative word here, of course, as I mean, cool? That's shmee.

Well, I still didn't get quite what I was digging for, but if Natalie thinks carrot muffins are super cool and Giatta simply thinks bananas and chocolate chips and carrots are the bees knees, I really cannot pout about it. These Littles are learning to bake with love, just as I learned to do from my grandmothers.

It's a good thing seasons are cyclical and the freshness of a new summer will come back around. Planning for next year is what keeps me from turning into a puddle right now. Teachers try not to play favorites, but the Chica Littles son las estudiantes que quiero el mejor.

Why Ecuador? This.

It's Father's Day and my fantastic padre spent the afternoon with my mom and sisters at the Twin's Game, noshing on a hot dog with plans to grill out at the Baci Pad for dinner. I was able to chat with Papa Baci for a few minutes during the 7th inning, but my heart was a bit achy to be in the midst of that crowd with him. These trade-offs of living abroad are not easy; they sometimes make my stomach floppy and they sometimes make me feel a bit blue.

My feet are tapping tonight for that flight that takes off in two weeks, the one that doesn't land me on the coast or in the jungle or in a cool new quaint pueblo here, but back in my Midwestern element. I am not feeling particularly articulate tonight as I try to express why it is I have chosen to stay in the Southern Hemisphere for a third year when the truth of my missing life back with my people in the States lingers in the air so strongly this evening.

Twenty-two months ago I boarded the plane with Peter to begin an international experience I was certain would be contained to the two year contract, but now I cannot even say that I know I will move back home after three years. It is a possibility indeed, but not a certainty. Given the sentimental moment I am having right now, my eyes are watery pondering what I am missing by being so many miles away; the triumphs that Giatta and Natalie experience and then the trials that temporarily crush those I love so much.

My life is not better here in Ecuador; I just know it is where I am supposed to be right now. The way that my senses are so heightened, the way that the sights and sounds and smells still seem exotic, the way that I feel myself evolving and expanding, it all entreats me to continue this experience a bit longer. An exceptional truth is that I've never felt more confident, never felt more strong, perhaps never felt so proud of the challenges I have taken on, and, in a sense, never felt so beautiful before taking the big leap to be here.

This past weekend a number of us gringos bussed to Mindo (that whimsical place I am obsessed with due largely in part to the chocolate factory that is nestled upon a hill--where I dined three times in 12 hours on this last trip) for the annual despedida. A number of friends are leaving in a couple of short weeks. Pondering their departure it struck me how unprepared I am to elope from Ecuador at this time. So, it is a good thing, a fortunate thing, that I am able to stay, maybe just one more year.

There is something majestic here, in the whole experience for me really, and also in the landscape. I still cannot quite grasp the beauty I witnessed when a group of us ladies went to The Secret Garden (near Ecuador's tallest volcano Cotopaxi, spewing sulfur and rumbling a bit recently) for Alli's bachelorette celebration last weekend. Our mouths stood slightly agape as we sipped Mimosas and took in this view before returning to Quito:

photo credit: Maria Gribensk

It is well and right that this apartment off of Eloy Alfaro is my home away from home for now. Oh, but how excited I am to give giddy hugs to you all when I return so soon. 

Tonight, abrazos fuertes across continental lines...and in a fortnight, the real deal.

Todo mi amor,

Jame

An Open Letter to My Sextos

I’m coming up a bit short on words here, sextos, as I am trying to figure out how to articulate my sentiments. One of my feelings is actually...sentimental. You are about to experience so many new firsts again, as you embark on new journeys and new parts of your lives’ paths. And for me, I experienced many new firsts with all of you. My favorite first: getting to work with you for two years. Since I have no poker face, I cannot lie, it was not an easy two years in some ways, but I have sincerely learned a good deal from my experience with you, and I value that greatly. The small exchanges about language or culture have been some of my most treasured lessons. (We all know I’ll never forget what “Shoot!” is in Spanish now, right?!) The way that students help you to see new viewpoints, whether it is in a discussion about a text, or something else in life, it’s the coolest thing about my job. And in these past two years, each of you has broadened my perspective in some very meaningful way.

As we prepare to say “nos vemos” the words of author Neil Gaiman seem most appropriate. We may have been taught that we shouldn’t make mistakes, but in truth, mistakes are how we learn life’s most valuable lessons. Mistakes push us to reflect and grow and become our best selves, I believe. So, here is the wisdom I offer you through him:

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something. So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make new mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life. Whatever it is you're scared of doing, do it. Make your mistakes, next year and forever.

Oh, and P.S.: 3...2...Juan...¡Tenet!

Viajar es la unica cosa que compras y te hace más rico

I discovered a taste of Europe in Ecuador this weekend: Cuenca. The city is described as "the economic center of the southern sierra, [which] has long been known for a rich intellectual, artistic, and philosophical tradition that matches its colonial architecture." 

While I love to meander through museums, I really took in the city by winding through the streets and hunkering down in different cafés and restaurants to read and people watch. 

After a weekend of sipping a lot of tea and agua de coco, turning into something of a social anthropologist, and enjoying a quaint, tranquila cuidad, I've arrived back to school quite calmada. 

Through photos I'd like to share the belleza de Cuenca con ustedes. 

So come, together let's see what we might find...

1st stop (well, and 3rd, 7th and last--when I find a good restaurant,
I eat through the menu): El Mercado.
 Great food, great vibe, great tunes

and a great view of the river.

Aaand notably good coffee with a cozy chair for reading. 

El Mercado by evening--with Celeste and Greg, friends from Americano. 

Strolling around town one runs into beautiful buildings as such.

Making my way down by the river I saw street art that is nothing like the graffiti we know back home. The street art has good purpose; it makes a statement and speaks a truth.

Good thing I love to walk, right friends, because I ended up back up from the river in the main square. I spied a parade and then found the best seat in the house. Sipping poorly brewed coffee was okay if it meant taking in the scene from above. 

After the parade had passed, the square makes a superb place for people watching and hunkering down with two of my favorite things: a brilliant book and large coco. It seems I was being watched as well as a desconocido plopped down next to me and started chatting. I found the conversation pleasant until the middle-aged stranger wanted my number. With a "mucho gusto" I was off and walking again...

While I may be, in the realm of shopping, the most conservative Baci woman, still I get the itch, so I was off to find some shops, continually happening upon interesting sites and scenes.

The mosaic paired with the family enjoying one another's company was just too lindo.

To travel is to live, said Hans Christian Andersen. Simple words, but I heartily agree and the town continued to just delight me with its beauty and tranquil energy.

For me that beauty included visible "flaws" as well. If imperfections are always so consciously concealed, I struggle to relate to those persons or places.

A good traveler has no fixed plans...further wise words, spoken once by Lao Tzu. My experience in Cuenca was largely marked by arriving without a set itinerary. Allowing the day to unfold the way it would, I feel I got a real sense of the town and its people. 

As my legs were walking that city center, I stumbled across the famous domes of Cuenca,
 the top of Cathedral of Immaculate Conception. 

Before catching the plane back to Quito, I nestled back onto a bench in the main square, peered through the trees to once again allow my senses to take in the sites, sounds and surroundings of this lovely town.

These past months have been filled with especially memorable trips. February began with the Galapagos, then the whole family gathered in St. John's and the next weekend I was exploring Cuenca. I don't take this life for granted, that's for sure. I'm so privileged. These experiences are certainly enriching, and I hope that as I feel my life is quite indulgent, I also continue to bring positive energy to the world and people surrounding me. It is something upon which I reflect daily, my purpose in this place. A friend posted an article recently that was thought-provoking in this vein of purpose and making a difference. I'm reposting it here  as these words might speak to you as well. 

The title to this blog translates "To travel is the only thing that you buy that makes you rich." ...and may that richness also somehow enrich the lives of others...

For now, love from Cuenca. <3 

Jame

Oh, the delights of the unforeseen, unexpected and formerly unknown

There are times when I can get lost in the fears of what I cannot predict...and what I cannot predict turns out to be just about everything. In a lifetime there are people and events that take you by surprise in deeply sad, sometimes tragic ways. This post, though, is dedicated to those delightful appearances of people, moments and discoveries that were wholly unpredictable, and for that, all the more delicious. It is 12:21 am on March 16th (mmm hmm, guess who's not sleeping again) and for the next 30, 60...maybe even 90 days, I will be noting life's unanticipated pleasures:

March 17th: It's 8:30 and I just sat down for the first time tonight. I've been busy cooking and baking up a storm in my kitchen. The unforeseen here isn't wholly unpredictable. Anyone who is reading this blog is familiar with my passion for food and chowing down, but it's the fun frenzy that has arisen in me that is so notable. Taking a Coursera class called "Ignite Your Everyday Creativity" I was encouraged to create a list of "to-do's" for a project. I invented a project called "Creative Kitchen" and determined that I would make at least two new meals a week. It's a good thing that I had time to work out today in the midst of digging my spoon into the Avocado Ice Cream I made last night the moment I walked in the door from school. I then started to put together the ingredients for veggie burgers with lemon cashew mayo...while wolfing down the roasted cauliflower soup I had made on Sunday. I just finished the Nutella cookies (which I am gifting to staff at school in case you were beginning to wonder how fat my big toe was going to soon get). Passion=Positive Life Force. How are you exploring yours?

March 29th: The Baci clan is in St. John's this week. This afternoon I had this deliciously victorious moment. Auntie Jamie's been a little neurotic about the amount of toaster waffles, pasta and butter and mac-and-cheese the sobrinitas have been consuming (though I do have to earnestly reflect that when I was in Barcelona, I was requesting that Mom send me Easy-Mac...creature comforts die hard, I guess). I've been making my way through Dale Carnegie's classic How to Win Friends and Influence People and one of his main tenants is "arouse in other people an eager want." I've reflected on my classroom practices in regards to his words, and now this wisdom is helping me consider how to get two intelligent, spunky sobrinas to eat their fruits and veggies. Here it is: let them pick out their own fruits and make some rainbow kabobs. Natalie was totally making my day with her enthusiasm. She was so incredibly proud of her creations...and working it to pass them off on Uncle Tommy, Auntie Cassie and Bapa. 

She's a saleswoman like her mama. And she's soon to be a great sous chef; I've got a project brewing for the summer...

April 10th:

Less than one week after I arrive home from St. John's I am flying off to Cuenca, a most quaint and lovely, European-ish feeling town in Ecuador. Seriously, is this my life? Yes, it is. Damn. Heading to Cuenca I anticipate I will find some cool little places, but I don't know that one will be called El Mercado. I don't foresee how cozy and comfortable I will feel away from home. At 4:30 on this Friday I am about to crack open my latest read. The energy of El Mercado...is just what I need at this moment. Old school John Mayer is kind of twirling through the air, bringing me back momentarily to college. I'm sipping agua aromatica con gengibre y naranja. What I take to be a North American couple sits across the room from me, well-dressed in their North Face travel apparel while two Latin men speak softly at the table in front of me. The river rushes below and sun beams make their way through an overcast sky. What I feel is simply peace. 

April 15th:

Just finished a meeting with a student and his administrator. I really like this kid, but we've been ebbing since he was sour about a cell phone incident. The conversation went really well, though, and we are both walking away with better energy towards each other, which leaves me hopeful for the last weeks that we are working together. Reflecting on this conversation, the best feeling I have is actually my understanding that the conversation does not likely mean completely smooth sailing until he graduates. It's just not realistic. My growth as an educator, and person, has been coming to this understanding, that real change takes time--weeks, months, sometimes years--and all of the ebbs and flows are necessary parts of the process. I have a great deal more patience now for my own growth over time and that of my students than I did when I began my career, or even when I began this year of teaching. After waking up a bit cranky and pouty (another floppy date last night--I think the Universe mixed up dessert and desert. I like sweet things, but I'm in a man desert and that's really not dulce), the meeting and this reflection lightens me and reminds me of the cool stuff happening within me and within others. 

April 19th: 

This morning as I was just heading out on my Sunday morning jaunt with my friend Nicole and her very spirited dog Lola, I received a text from my dear friend Iain. Would I help him rise to the challenge of baking banana bread at altitude? Absolutamente. An afternoon I thought would be one of solitude was made much lovelier in the company of Mr. Duncan. We whipped up a ridiculous amount of banana bread. Bread baking, we watched the lightening strike out against the not-so-distant mountains and played good tunes all afternoon. Emerson's words seem well-placed here: A Friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature.

April 23rd:

The end of the school day was nearing and the sun was still beaming, in the midst of the rainy season. Sometimes I get stuck in my routine. Today was supposed to be my more intense workout with weights. But my soul was saying, "Go for Vitamin D!" Sometimes I need to break with routine so much that I move to another country; sometimes I become so attached to routine that it takes a good deal of consciousness to let it go for something better. Making some effort to ignore the rush hour exhaust, I powered around the park; the energy of the other walkers, runners, families and peppy pups got me feeling...exuberant you could say. All of the buildings set back against the surrounding mountains led me to yet another "My life really kicks ass" moment. 

I began this post just over a month ago to reflect on the unexpected, which I have, but more it's drawn me to just savor the everyday. Every day has something radical to offer. And there will never be another day like it. This is the only April 25th, 2015 that will ever exist...

A Reflection on Family and a Tribute to Grandpa Red

You've likely heard the saying, "Friends are the family you choose for yourself." I've often reflected on the soulful relationships I build, and those friendships are so dear to me; those friends feel like family. And then there is my actual family, those I am bonded to by blood. They are the friends that I didn't choose, but if I were to have chosen, I couldn't have chosen better. My family is flawed and funky and altogether pretty freakin' funny on any given occasion. We have dance parties and dance-offs. We get fiery with each other, and then forgiveness quickly follows. We make aromatic, Italian messes in the kitchen and stuff ourselves with homemade ravioli...and then have plank challenges. Sometimes wine flows like water, and then the next morning the water flows like the wine. Yep, it's pretty awesome to have been born into the band of Baci's. 

This week we mourn the loss of Grandpa Red, the man who added flavor in so many forms to our grand fam. As we gather, though, we also celebrate his life and the gift that he was to all of us, his grandchildren, children, siblings and friends. 

The following is my tribute to my Grandpa Red, a man who could boil my blood and steal my heart...

He is outfitted in a flannel. A Swisher Sweet poised in one hand, and a martini in the other while Johnny Cash croons in the background. The rich smell of simmering mushrooms, onions, tomatoes and herbs wafts from the stove as he gruffly says, “Where in the heck is the Grandpa Lynns?” This is Red, our brother, father, grandfather, friend…and “Grandpa Genius” in the eyes of his great-granddaughters.   

Red Bacigalupo was born on April 1st, 1939, to Freida and Joe Bacigalupo in St. Paul, and this German-Italian couple created quite the chef extraordinaire in Grandpa Red. Before he became the Italian chef that we all knew him to be, he became a father of five, beginning with Mark, shortly followed by Michelle and Gina, and some years later came along the baby (for awhile) Joe, and six years later Christy was born.

Those years that his children were growing up were filled with both personal and professional accomplishments. Red took pride in his work as an electrician, most so in being part of the electrical crew on the IDS Tower in Minneapolis and his part in working on the NSP King Plant between Stillwater and Bayport. Later, he owned his own electrical contracting firm in Bozeman, and then one subsequently in Seattle, Washington, where he also became the lead trainer for those aspiring to be electrical administrators.

It was his family, though, that was Red’s pride and joy. There were many summers spent at the cabin on Cross Lake, teaching Mark, Gina and Shelly how to catch crappies and waterski, and then, in later years, fishing for trout with Joe and Christy on Lake Stevens, where Red would take the two out to fish in the early dawn, come home to fry up the fish and eggs, followed by hanging out in the sun, waterskiing on the crystal water. In fact, Red has been described as a hot dog water skier as he was able to ski barefoot and display quite the roostertail when he did don the skis.

It wasn’t just on the lake that Red showcased his talents and taught his children life and recreational skills. He was also an instructor in the kitchen, on the putting green, the ski slope and, of course, the mountainside. There were days, working in the Red Barn Gourmet Food Store, which he and his second wife Patty owned, where Gina helped with ordering products and cooked in the feed bin restaurant, which has, so many decades later, led her to embark on opening the Huckleberry Hill Bed and Breakfast. There were nights spent with Joe, drinking Coors Light, laying out as dusk approached, listening to the Mariners in the distance, trying to predict what the next hit might be, a single, double, strike-out or homerun. There were evenings barbecuing the best burgers that a young Christy happily devoured. It is indeed, his passion for great food that Red has passed on to all of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He has taught his fabulous five to cook family recipes of homemade ravioli (though let’s not forget his taste for White Castle), pasta sauce, and torta. His passion lives on as his children teach their children the trade-secrets.

He took great pride and enjoyment in helping all of us, his friends and family, with remodeling projects. If you didn’t have one ready, he’d dream one up for you and show up ready to rock. Knocking out walls, redoing floors, rewiring the electric, retiling the bathroom and on and on; he could do it all. We all learned and benefited from his passion to teach and build.

Red really was one-hell-of-a man. He will continue to be remembered and admired for his gumption and free-spirit, and especially for the friendships he built and sustained over the years. Gina recently quoted the adage “There aren’t strangers, just friends he hasn’t met yet” and this was quintessential Red, to make fast and lasting connections with friends of friends, the couple up the hill and the waitress at his new local diner.  

In one of Red’s last lucid moments, surrounded by his family, he clearly asked, “Are we close to a beer?” It is here we toast to you, Grandpa Red, a man of many talents, stories, and friends. We will remember you always as we are puffing our cigars, tracking that elk, sipping an orange pop, donning our cheaters, and, especially, when looking at the Montana moon. And we will miss you deeply.

Sea Change and the Art of Peeing on Your Hand

I am a fan of Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, and I am pondering his words on gratitude right now, sitting across from my large living room window, observing the way the sun has created something of a haze on the not so distant mountains. The sun is about to set on a two-week holiday that has been filled with memorable moments. Somewhere in his 60-some years Rumi was quoted as proclaiming, "Wear gratitude like a cloak and it will feed every corner of your life." The more days that dawn, the deeper I draw into feelings of gratitude...for a privileged life I have been granted, for the people I am fortunate enough to call my friends and family, and for abundant fresh food, mainly avocados and sweet potatoes, that I am daily devouring.

My most recent excursion was to las Galapagos. I have been quite intrigued with tortugas on past scuba dives, but it turns out that sea lions can really steal your heart. It's also possible to eat one's weight in seafood...and still want more ceviche. And one indeed can survive the nasty tentacles of a Galapagan jellyfish without going into anaphylactic shock...

It's only been a week since my return, but let's reminisce a bit together...

The Galaps Gang: Furio, Mama and Papa Baci, Adam, Les, Jan and Jackie Saumweber, yours truly, and Deb and Bruce Reuter (photo credit: Bruce Reuter)

Furio, el dueño de la casa, is a fascinating man of many trades. I gritted my teeth and bit my tongue in the kitchen on several occasions as he criticized how I cut his homemade bread and the mess I made while putting together a salad, but the man made such amazing Italian fare (and sent me home with 5 pounds of Galapagos sal del mar) that I couldn't hold a grudge for too long.

Needless to say, we ate well between Furio's cooking, dining out to consume copious amounts of octopus, shrimp, lobster, tuna and calamari, and Dad's two-a-day ice cream shop stops (no joke, no exaggeration; we share this love of chocolate and still I am thoroughly impressed by the sheer quantity he consumes while still keeping a pretty dang svelte form).

When we weren't noshing on the chocolate bars I brought, or slurping agua right from the coconut, we did enjoy a number of other activities on Santa Cruz, our home island, North Seymour and Isabela...

...like scubadiving! It had been about 7 years since my last dive, so Jacks helped me review some important basics before Dad, Les, she and I dove into the chilly Pacific ocean, sporting 7 millimeter wetsuits rather than the usual 3 millimeter suits we don when diving in Mexico. (And let me tell ya, "fits like a glove" has never rung so true before, and I'd be okay if it never did again.) What fascinated me most about the trip was the wildlife and sea animals and their comfort and seemingly equal fascination with humans. Take the sea lions for example:

Perhaps not the most flattering angle here for her, but this sea lion danced circles around us. Quike, our dive instructor, kindly asked us not to punch any sea lions in the face if they got too close, as other divers had reactively done in the past. Way too cute to box with, in my opinion. @saumweberphotography

It was on this first dive that I also saw my first sharks en vivo. I'd like to tell you about how Jaws-like they were and how valiant and brave we were, but I've never been that good at such fabrications, and truth be told, they were more docile than what would tackle me later...

So we swam along, happy as clams.

"Under the sea Under the sea Darling it's better Down where it's wetter Take it from me Up on the shore they work all day Out in the sun they slave away While we devotin' Full time to floatin' Under the sea" @saumweberphotography

In addition to the sharks, we watched manta rays elegantly swim past while whole clouds of fish surrounded us. After finishing our first two dives, I was jazzed for our second day of diving. On the third dive I was having one of those million dollar moments. So in the present, just taking in the texture of that very minute, and, having finally figured out my buoyancy with that glove of a wetsuit, I was feeling rather one with the sea. I've come to really dig into these times as I recognize how fleeting that sentiment may be when the Universe just seems so aligned. Perhaps 45 minutes later we had all resurfaced. Quike was helping me hand up my weights to the boat crew. My weightless hand was hanging onto a rope attached to the boat when suddenly I felt a rather uncomfortable stinging sensation. The intensity of the pain increased quite rapidly and before I could compose myself I was yelping and hollering. Quike quickly swiped at my hand, grabbing at what looked to me like a blue thread. Oh, those damn jellyfish tentacles. Extra glad I really savored those lovely moments under the sea because the following 45 minutes weren't ones in which I especially shone. As I was fighting back tears, telling my dad I didn't know if I could do our last dive, I kept coming back to WWJD (What Would Jackie Do). Jacks is one adventure-seeking, tough lady friend. I couldn't imagine she'd let such a wimpy, skinny, yarn-like tentacle get in the way of her very last dive in the Galapagos. So, I bucked up, marched myself to the tiny closet of a bathroom, and prepared to pee on my hand, as I had been persuaded to do by the other divers. At this moment, it may have been useful to have been equipped with a penis. With the boat rockin' by sizable waves, this was no easy, or clean, task. But I did it. And I felt a real kinship with Monica...and unfortunately no real relief. (Note this, amigos: Upon my return to Quito, I did further research. Urine is not an antidote for jellyfish stings, says the BBC.)

Well, anyway, I went through the ridiculous process of putting that wetsuit back on, where the crew and other divers were entertained as Quike and company picked me up and bounced me into "the glove." It was a wise decision because on that final dive we came across a seahorse, the most mythical of all sea creatures. Happy sigh as we enjoyed another million dollar moment.

The following are two million dollar photos that Bruce and Deb have passed to me for your viewing pleasure. Through these you might glimpse the splendor of the Galapagos.

This is a Frigatebird. His red pouch puffs up during mating season. 

Frigatebird offspring -- I would just like a zoo of Galapagos animals in my house. Stat.

Because who doesn't want to cuddle up with this baby at night?

Good morning, Sunshine.

Besitos from the mama.

I suppose the scaly land iguana can stay outside...but he'll have a fantastic view of the stars.

Yo, are you lookin' at me? Are YOU lookin' at ME?!

We did love to look at Rafael, who we were told was 300 years old, only later to find these tortugas live to be around 150 years old. The bottom line: he's old enough to make this new yoga pose his whole workout for the day. Love ya, Rafa.

Snackin'.

The infamous blue-footed booby.

The Standoff. Something about who was going to get first dibs on our seafood dinner.

As I'm stretching and getting so sleepy, I must leave you with two final photos. 

Stunning sunsets...

turn into starlit nights.

Sharing all of these moments, views and dinners with my parents, the Reuters and the Saumwebers made for the most lovely of holidays. 

Missing you all immensely in the midst of it, as always. Hugs from Ecuador.

Jame