As it stands, Bond (Peter, that's you) is still in Quito, so the Bond girl is trying all her tricks on her own to get a visa renewal before leaving the country on Monday. I've previously written about my evolving tranquila self, the one who can just. let. go. Bueno, the way I have been sweating through my cute summer dress (mmm, let's be honest, the dress from Cassie's Closet...sorry sista-friend) and swearing not so under my breath seems to argue that that Jamie is definitely on vaca sipping Piña Coladas in Canoa. Fine, just fine. Without her it seems this now provides an opportunity to indulge my dramatic side.
The series of anxiety-inducing events has gone something like this:
1. HR at Americano informs me that my visa expires while I am back home, so I must renew in Minnesota rather than Quito.
2. They pass off the apparent appropriate forms for renewal.
3. I arrive home and call the Ecuadorian Consulate and make an appointment for July 28th.
4. Walking in on the aforementioned date with my papers and passport, I sit down with the General Consulate to take care of business. Ha, as it stands, there will be no processing today because the visa actually expires on August 12 (the first day I am to be in Argentina with NieNie) and it is against the rules to renew early. I suggest you go to the consulate in Buenos Aires says Ms. General Consulate. I wish I'd brought with my copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You think I'm going to break away from red wine and steak to maneuver a visa renewal at the Ecuadorian consulate in Argentina?! Not. a. chance. I am also feeling it is unfortunate that we are not in Ecuador and that I am not dealing con un hombre because a few dolla dolla bills and bats of my eyelashes in tandem with pooor fa would likely do the trick here. I begin to really irritate Ms. GC as I ask what my other options might be. She finally agrees to process my visa on August 11th (really bending "the rules" here as that is TWENTY-FOUR HOURS early). I will have to drop off my papers and passport on August 7th and pick up my new visa on August 11th before flying out.
5. So now, here we are today. I walk into the consulate, present all docs once again to a new woman as the GC was out of the office. It seems now I do not have all of the passport photos I need. I will have to get more taken and bring those in tomorrow morning, when I have planned to bake cookies con mis sobrinas one last time this summer. Whatever, we'll just tell the oven to bake faster. But then, the kicker: I need a background check you say? I was not previously informed of this.
6. I walk out of the office and frantically begin calling police precincts and even the FBI (I don't think that was the appropriate office to contact) to see who can process a background check in like 12 hours. Here's the deal: no one.
7. My sweat glands are going into overdrive as I walk back into the office and inform the very kind (and here I imply no sarcasm) woman that I do not know how to obtain a background check by tomorrow. And anyway, I've been living in Ecuador this past year, so what good would a background check from Minnesota be? Oh, in that case I'll need a background check from Ecuador she calmly replies. Ha. Mmmm, we've been over my list of superpowers, teleportation isn't among them. Dazed and confused about my next step, I explain that other friends have renewed in Ecuador without having to produce any background check. Ms. Muy Amable says she will call GC and let me know what she says.
8. I walk out to have lunch with my friend Tunde. He tries to console me with his adventure of renewing his passport with the Nigerian consulate in Georgia. Good story, but he has his passport in hand. My passport is currently held captive. No call ever comes from the consulate before it closes at 2 pm.
9. I get in my car as I am heading to Cosco to take more passport photos and ring Bond in Ecuador. He listens sympathetically as I rant away. Last year we tag-teamed Juan Carlos until we had successfully accomplished our mission. C'mon, James, hop in your jet now, please...
So, I'll return to the consulate tomorrow to drop off the passport photos. Grandma says she'll come with and vouch for me. They will certainly waive the demand for a background check as her word is good as gold. Agreed?
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Sunday, August 3, 2014
La Boda del Verano
It's official (actually Facebook official, so you know it's the real deal): another Baci woman is off of the market. Many men's hearts sank as one grew even larger at 3 pm on Saturday, August 2nd, 2014, as my stunning sister Cassie said "I do" to one handsome Tom Ryan.
I've spent the past few weeks relishing the nights that Cass and I have been hanging out at my parents', where she has been living and I have been staying. (Trying not to treat it too much like a B and B, I've been doing a load of laundry from time to time.) Our sister time doesn't get abolished now that she is a wife, but being both sensitive AND sentimental, spending time with Cass in her last days as a Bacigalupo felt extra special. (Though her ability to take down a plate of pasta, laugh at her own jokes and bring on the sass doesn't change with the new name, so once a Baci, always a Baci.)
In the days leading up to the wedding, I spent a number of nights mostly observing Cass work on final touches. With Mom's help, Cass created all kinds of decor from scratch that is most definitely Pinterest worthy. Using burlap, twine, birch bark and hydrangeas, Cass's style is rustic elegance. Another special touch: sweet, little poems to introduce each member of the wedding party. I've got to include the ones she wrote for Linds and me:
For Linds--
For me--
As maid and matron-of-honor, Linds and I decided on a joint speech. We followed Dad, whose wit and humor nearly earned him a standing ovation. My fave part of Linds' and my speech was our alphabet for the newlyweds, inspired by Dr. Seuss's ABC book and what Linds and I imagine Cass and Tom's life to look like based on their favorite pastimes and interests. It is as follows:
The following photos, courtesy of my dear friends Kelley and Nate Reiter, give you a sense of the beauty of Cass and Tom's wedding day.
Getting ready at Mom and Dad's.
I've spent the past few weeks relishing the nights that Cass and I have been hanging out at my parents', where she has been living and I have been staying. (Trying not to treat it too much like a B and B, I've been doing a load of laundry from time to time.) Our sister time doesn't get abolished now that she is a wife, but being both sensitive AND sentimental, spending time with Cass in her last days as a Bacigalupo felt extra special. (Though her ability to take down a plate of pasta, laugh at her own jokes and bring on the sass doesn't change with the new name, so once a Baci, always a Baci.)
In the days leading up to the wedding, I spent a number of nights mostly observing Cass work on final touches. With Mom's help, Cass created all kinds of decor from scratch that is most definitely Pinterest worthy. Using burlap, twine, birch bark and hydrangeas, Cass's style is rustic elegance. Another special touch: sweet, little poems to introduce each member of the wedding party. I've got to include the ones she wrote for Linds and me:
For Linds--
My shopping partner in crime,
I could hang with my sister all of the time.
A successful realtor she is
I might even join her in the biz.
Her generous heart is what I love most
Of this I will most proudly boast.
Beautiful babies she and Chad made,
Lovely life none of which she would trade.For me--
Sisters by blood, friends by choice,
She always carries herself with much poise.
Teacher, world traveler, foodie and chef
I often call her when I could use a deep breath.
One quote comes to mind when I think of my dearest:
“Though she be but little, she is fiercest.”As maid and matron-of-honor, Linds and I decided on a joint speech. We followed Dad, whose wit and humor nearly earned him a standing ovation. My fave part of Linds' and my speech was our alphabet for the newlyweds, inspired by Dr. Seuss's ABC book and what Linds and I imagine Cass and Tom's life to look like based on their favorite pastimes and interests. It is as follows:
a - acceptance, Anthropologie, autumns
b - beaches, bars, burgers and a baby or three.
c - Cassie's changing clothes again
d - dancing in DC
e - elegant evening in Ecuador
f - fury, fights, forgiven
g -goofy and glam, grabbing grub from grandma's
h - happy hour in Hudson, highlights and a haircut
i - imitating imps in Iceland?
j - juicing in their jammies in January
k - kinship, kindness and keepsakes
l - laughing without limits
m - movie in the Minneapolis moonlight with mimosas
n - New Nightlife in New York
o - ordering orange overalls
p - pouring porters on patios
q - her quirks, his queen
r - the Ryan's rollerblading to the Reuter’s
s - Softball and Summertime Saturday sushi dates
t - Tommy twerking in Tel Aviv? too funny
u - ultimate underwater
v - valuable vacations, verve and vitality
w - watches, winters, and white wine
x - seXy teXting...you mean seXting?
y - years of...yodeling?
z - a life with plenty of zeal, plenty of zest because Tommy is the one who Cass loves best
The following photos, courtesy of my dear friends Kelley and Nate Reiter, give you a sense of the beauty of Cass and Tom's wedding day.
 |
Here she comes, Tommy, our sister and daughter, your beautiful bride. |
| Aunt Christy and Uncle Jim's Weston is such a stud. He was more than happy to walk these belles down the aisle.  |
One hot wedding party...who rocked the dance floor all. night. long. (naturally)
 |
Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Tom Ryan
“Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other. ”
Saturday, July 5, 2014
A short reflection
Some years ago, when my life in Denver was coming to a close, reflecting I wrote, "my tragic flaw is my bleeding heart." Now, years later, I see myself differently. Meditating upon these past 10 months while walking La Carolina today, I surmise that my capacity to feel so deeply, to love, to embrace-- despite the truth that time is fleeting, that nothing gold can stay--is my true super power.
While the Robert Frost poem that I quote has a melancholy tone, I still find hope within the words. It may be that "Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold," and "Dawn goes down to day," but the winter does give birth to spring, and the sun does dawn again. My gift for finding such good people leaves me momentarily feeling heavy and sad as I have to let go in some capacity to beautiful friends as our adventure seeking selves lead us down departing paths. Though the physical distance increases,
little have I lost, and so much have I gained. Many dear people and experiences have become part of the mosaic of my heart, increasing its beauty, diversity and depth. Past history has taught me that the sorrow and heartache I may experience now gives way to deep gratitude and joy that my life is filled with such meaningful connections.
The restlessness that I have felt the past weeks persists, but in the midst of it rises a sense of peace. This year has wrought so much; certainly challenges that have pushed my limits, but more so opportunities. for growth...friendship...contemplation. Above all, this year culminates with great beauty.
And now, now I am ready for the embraces of my friends and family back home. Ready to wrap my arms around Natalie and Giatta. Ready for the Minnesota summer nights' air.
Nos vemos pronto...
Jame
While the Robert Frost poem that I quote has a melancholy tone, I still find hope within the words. It may be that "Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold," and "Dawn goes down to day," but the winter does give birth to spring, and the sun does dawn again. My gift for finding such good people leaves me momentarily feeling heavy and sad as I have to let go in some capacity to beautiful friends as our adventure seeking selves lead us down departing paths. Though the physical distance increases,
little have I lost, and so much have I gained. Many dear people and experiences have become part of the mosaic of my heart, increasing its beauty, diversity and depth. Past history has taught me that the sorrow and heartache I may experience now gives way to deep gratitude and joy that my life is filled with such meaningful connections.
The restlessness that I have felt the past weeks persists, but in the midst of it rises a sense of peace. This year has wrought so much; certainly challenges that have pushed my limits, but more so opportunities. for growth...friendship...contemplation. Above all, this year culminates with great beauty.
And now, now I am ready for the embraces of my friends and family back home. Ready to wrap my arms around Natalie and Giatta. Ready for the Minnesota summer nights' air.
Nos vemos pronto...
Jame
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Where this will lead, nobody knows
Sleepless once again. After laying in bed listening to the wind howl outside, I have succumbed to the misery of the insomnia and decided to try to busy myself somehow so that I might exhaust myself enough to fall into a couple of hours of sleep before my alarm is the next thing to demand my bleary-eyed attention.
The silver lining of this sleepless night is the message I received when logging into Facebook. To preface, I have spent most of this year questioning whether or not I am really making any difference here inside of my classroom. At Americano in general. I have formed some authentic relationships with some of my students, I have collaborated with friends and found some fulfillment there, but altogether I have missed the rapport and sense of purpose I had built at Jefferson. It seems the Universe can be merciful to somewhat heavy-hearted teachers because here is the message I have just opened from a student I had last year:
Ms. Baci
The young man who wrote this just graduated. I appreciated him, but I had no idea the sentiment was mutual. As teachers, we are often unaware of the impact that we have. And then sometimes we are fortunate enough to receive something so beautiful.
Intuition led me abroad. I seek comfort in that when I lay awake at night, unable to sleep, pondering the possibilities of my future. I have fallen out of touch with my own instincts at times, though I've always unwound myself from my own confusion, or others' opinions, to reconnect with "that iron string" as Emerson calls it. "Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind," my favorite Transcendentalist continues in "Self-Reliance." I may spin my wheels in the darkness of night, but reflecting upon my own history, I will ultimately make another intuitive move when it comes to my next big decision. And decisions grounded in intuition are decisions within which resides great peace for me.
This year has been intensely difficult at times. But I regret nothing. From a young age I have had a sound sense of self (though as I've recounted before, that understanding has undergone doubt and reflection a number of times), and I now see myself even more deeply as a woman who will always need to push her own boundaries.
This year too has been about seeing my own evolution to be less about changing who I am and more about accepting the woman within this skin. I attempted to leave parts of myself behind when I hopped aboard the plane in August, but they craftily packed themselves in the suitcase of my self. insecurities. sensitivities. duality. contradictions. at times, I am a paradigm. darkness. lightness. I have spent enough time in my 31 years wishing I was more like someone else, whether it be like one of my sisters or one of my friends; it is high time I embrace the fact that I am often vulnerable, yep, I'm sometimes moody and I frequently snap at a student and later regret my unrefined reaction. I'm also a genuine friend, deeply reflective with a great deal of integrity. Not to mention I sometimes snort when I laugh, lean when I toot and spew various liquids through my nose (though not for some years now, the spewing liquids part, that is), and there is something to be said for such quirks...and a woman who will admit to them.
I've had conversations with friends recently about what we are most fond of in this first year. For me it is the intangible: the indispensable friendships I have formed and seeing myself through the entangling discomfort, and sometimes agony, that were my first months as an international teacher, as an expat in Ecuador. I do feel a sense of pride, a sense of accomplishment, independence and strength in having chosen to take this chance. Chance, though, is not the word most suited for a decision based on intuition. For reasons I may now be able to articulate, and others that are latent, this is just where I was supposed to be, and just where I am supposed to be now.
The decision to teach abroad has undeniably altered the course of my world. I just wonder in how many ways.
The silver lining of this sleepless night is the message I received when logging into Facebook. To preface, I have spent most of this year questioning whether or not I am really making any difference here inside of my classroom. At Americano in general. I have formed some authentic relationships with some of my students, I have collaborated with friends and found some fulfillment there, but altogether I have missed the rapport and sense of purpose I had built at Jefferson. It seems the Universe can be merciful to somewhat heavy-hearted teachers because here is the message I have just opened from a student I had last year:
Ms. Baci
I just wanted to let you know that you were my favorite teacher I had in all of my 4 years at Jefferson and you were the only teacher that I would have wanted to be at my grad party. I know that your in South America which makes that impossible but I just wanted to tell you that I would have loved for you to come and that your one of the best teachers I ever had
The young man who wrote this just graduated. I appreciated him, but I had no idea the sentiment was mutual. As teachers, we are often unaware of the impact that we have. And then sometimes we are fortunate enough to receive something so beautiful.
Intuition led me abroad. I seek comfort in that when I lay awake at night, unable to sleep, pondering the possibilities of my future. I have fallen out of touch with my own instincts at times, though I've always unwound myself from my own confusion, or others' opinions, to reconnect with "that iron string" as Emerson calls it. "Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind," my favorite Transcendentalist continues in "Self-Reliance." I may spin my wheels in the darkness of night, but reflecting upon my own history, I will ultimately make another intuitive move when it comes to my next big decision. And decisions grounded in intuition are decisions within which resides great peace for me.
This year has been intensely difficult at times. But I regret nothing. From a young age I have had a sound sense of self (though as I've recounted before, that understanding has undergone doubt and reflection a number of times), and I now see myself even more deeply as a woman who will always need to push her own boundaries.
This year too has been about seeing my own evolution to be less about changing who I am and more about accepting the woman within this skin. I attempted to leave parts of myself behind when I hopped aboard the plane in August, but they craftily packed themselves in the suitcase of my self. insecurities. sensitivities. duality. contradictions. at times, I am a paradigm. darkness. lightness. I have spent enough time in my 31 years wishing I was more like someone else, whether it be like one of my sisters or one of my friends; it is high time I embrace the fact that I am often vulnerable, yep, I'm sometimes moody and I frequently snap at a student and later regret my unrefined reaction. I'm also a genuine friend, deeply reflective with a great deal of integrity. Not to mention I sometimes snort when I laugh, lean when I toot and spew various liquids through my nose (though not for some years now, the spewing liquids part, that is), and there is something to be said for such quirks...and a woman who will admit to them.
I've had conversations with friends recently about what we are most fond of in this first year. For me it is the intangible: the indispensable friendships I have formed and seeing myself through the entangling discomfort, and sometimes agony, that were my first months as an international teacher, as an expat in Ecuador. I do feel a sense of pride, a sense of accomplishment, independence and strength in having chosen to take this chance. Chance, though, is not the word most suited for a decision based on intuition. For reasons I may now be able to articulate, and others that are latent, this is just where I was supposed to be, and just where I am supposed to be now.
The decision to teach abroad has undeniably altered the course of my world. I just wonder in how many ways.
 |
| Photo credit |
Saturday, June 14, 2014
For My Papa on his 31st Father's Day
Papa,
I have just hunkered down at El Quetzal. While I am enjoying the solitude of this solo trip, the last time I was here was with you and Mom and your presences would be a welcome addition again now. I just may grab you 2...or 24 blocks of cacao for those dynamite Mindo brownies. Our politics may differ, but we will always share a deep passion for good chocolate. And really, we share more than that...
An affinity for the deep blue sea and all of the fishes within. Perhaps as I've gotten quite used to pushing my boundaries, to extending myself beyond my comfort zone, I will join you for a shark dive...or maybe I'll still stick to listening to your stories. (I suppose it depends if Mom gets a vote.) Regardless, diving in The Galapagos will be breathtaking, I am certain.
An awe and appreciation for the mountains. I was just recounting to a friend the story of the shale rock climb in Montana all those summers ago now. A rough and scary experience, but it's prepped me for some great climbing in Ecuador. A bit more recently I reflect on our hike in Rocky Mountain National Park. I had been living in Colorado for months, and yet I trailed behind you as your lungs were made for the mountains. What are the chances you come and scale a volcano with me before my time is through here?
An interest in expanding our minds. I think the last book I picked up of yours was a Malcolm Gladwell. That was after having had to abandon The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable Fragility. With the various titles and genres that have been stacked on the shelves, the message was clear: Work your brain. Be a thinker.
(I also hope I share the "aging well" gene with you. The George Clooney look is working for you, Dad. So if you rock Clooney, I'm hoping to pull off Michelle Pfeiffer.)
My gratitude that you are my father increases with each passing year. To have been raised by a man who has instilled in me the value of saving and giving, to have shown me that real men, strong men, show emotion, to have demonstrated the benefit of a strong work ethic, all of this is invaluable. You are precious to me, Daddy.
I may have been accused of being too picky when it comes to men, but with you as my model, Dad, the bar is set high.
I am really looking forward to the summer, when we can buff it up at CrossFit. For real, whose dad can still kick that kind of butt? My dad! And I'm anticipating some good bonfires out back. Smoke an Ecuadorian cigar with me?
It is a strong and independent woman you have supported me in becoming, but within still resides your little girl.
I love you, Dad.
I have just hunkered down at El Quetzal. While I am enjoying the solitude of this solo trip, the last time I was here was with you and Mom and your presences would be a welcome addition again now. I just may grab you 2...or 24 blocks of cacao for those dynamite Mindo brownies. Our politics may differ, but we will always share a deep passion for good chocolate. And really, we share more than that...
An affinity for the deep blue sea and all of the fishes within. Perhaps as I've gotten quite used to pushing my boundaries, to extending myself beyond my comfort zone, I will join you for a shark dive...or maybe I'll still stick to listening to your stories. (I suppose it depends if Mom gets a vote.) Regardless, diving in The Galapagos will be breathtaking, I am certain.
An awe and appreciation for the mountains. I was just recounting to a friend the story of the shale rock climb in Montana all those summers ago now. A rough and scary experience, but it's prepped me for some great climbing in Ecuador. A bit more recently I reflect on our hike in Rocky Mountain National Park. I had been living in Colorado for months, and yet I trailed behind you as your lungs were made for the mountains. What are the chances you come and scale a volcano with me before my time is through here?
An interest in expanding our minds. I think the last book I picked up of yours was a Malcolm Gladwell. That was after having had to abandon The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable Fragility. With the various titles and genres that have been stacked on the shelves, the message was clear: Work your brain. Be a thinker.
(I also hope I share the "aging well" gene with you. The George Clooney look is working for you, Dad. So if you rock Clooney, I'm hoping to pull off Michelle Pfeiffer.)
My gratitude that you are my father increases with each passing year. To have been raised by a man who has instilled in me the value of saving and giving, to have shown me that real men, strong men, show emotion, to have demonstrated the benefit of a strong work ethic, all of this is invaluable. You are precious to me, Daddy.
I may have been accused of being too picky when it comes to men, but with you as my model, Dad, the bar is set high.
 |
| My father and his adoring daughters. |
It is a strong and independent woman you have supported me in becoming, but within still resides your little girl.
I love you, Dad.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Extranjeras Abroad: Flub-ups and Fun Times in Ecuador
Blogger's Note: I am rather disappointedly posting a censored version of this entry today. Being a teacher has many rewards, but one downfall is that your words and actions are constantly scrutinized. Desiring to be a bit more entertaining and risqué, I had written a post that had me chuckling (though I have always been gifted at laughing at myself), but at lunch my level-headed colleagues had advised me against publishing it for the world at large. My inner rule follower won out (damn her), but should you beseech me to do so, I will happily send along the uncensored edition.
I played hookie on Friday. Recently I have been reflecting upon the fact that I let my rebellious teenage years pass me by (in fact, when Michelle inquired about the worst thing I did as a kid, all I came up with was "I had a fight with my mom once. I was so mad that I slammed the door when I took off to pace the neighborhood."), so I am working on making up for lost time in my 30s it seems. As teachers back home are finishing up school this week, the ex-pats abroad in Ecuador are pushing through until July 4th this summer, so Michelle and I took off Thursday evening for la playa se llama Puerto Lopez for a long weekend of sand, sol and siestas.
Not wanting to suffer through a 10 hour bus ride, we had booked tickets to fly into Guayaquil. At lunch on Thursday I was inquiring about how long the drive was from the airport in Guayaquil to Puerto Lopez. This prompted quizzical looks from my friends at the table. First flub-up and rookie mistake. Guayaquil to Puerto Lopez: 3.5 hours by car. Manta to Puerto Lopez: 1.5 hours by car. Map reading has never been my forte.
After an easy one-hour plane ride from Quito, we set out to find a taxi to drive us those 3.5 hours to Hosteria Mandala.
As we were following un hombre to his car, still trying to barter the price, Michelle declares, "Well, I think we're gonna have to stay awake for this one. Seems a little sketchy." Mmmm... mmmm, yep, didn't need to hear that. I have an active imagination that started reeling right away. As we were still bickering with "taxi driver" numero uno, another hombre sidles up to us and agrees to take us for the price we were arguing with el primero. Settling into this dude's car, Michelle starts laughing as she pulls out a swiss army knife from her coat pocket, which she had inadvertently brought along. "This is why they checked your purse at security," she deduces. Unsettling to find that as our things were in separate bins when they went through the scanner, the "security" dudes mixed up which bin to really search. Not our flub-up this time.
About two hours into the car ride, by the way my stomach seemed to be eating itself, it occured to me that I had burned my last calorie some 30 kilometers back. Perhaps it is because we were promised a snack en el avión, and while I know portion sizes are a bit smaller here in South America, I felt that LAN Airlines proved to be a bit of a tease.
Luckily the owners of Mandala were kind enough to fulfill our dinner wishes even though the kitchen was closed when we arrived at 10 pm. Turns out, this hostería has the best ceviche that I have ever introduced to my taste buds. In fact, we proceeded to eat our weight in ceviche throughout the weekend.
Our first full day in Puerto Lopez consisted of a leisurely breakfast at Mandala and then a short trip out to Los Frailes. In my experience so far, the beaches of Ecuador are quite different than the beaches in Mexico with which I became familiar in my adolescence as we took annual family trips to Cozumel, Akumal and Puerto Vallarta. Las playas that I have visited here seem to offer more solitude than the tourist attractions of Mexico. Solitude is just what I was musing on as I was lounging on the sands of this serene beach. What I find so lovely about my friendship with Michelle is that we can share space and continue to have a sense of solitude. When you find such persons, hang on to them, for they are kindred spirits.
Amidst our silent reflections, we continued to ruminate together as well. Really, we pondered some pressing questions. It still seems an enigma to us where Ecuador is hiding all the men and monedas. And now an additional mystery is where the farmers are stowing all the good coffee. Ecuador is a large producer of coffee beans, and yet we are served instant Nescafé time and again. Befuddling really. I hope my second year offers some answers here.
It seems I have gained some wisdom in my 31 years as I left Los Frailes slightly sun-kissed rather than looking like a lobster bake. (Second degree sun burns at 13 will teach you a thing or two about slathering on copious amounts of sunscreen.)
The rest of Friday consisted of finding and devouring more seafood, reading in hammocks and discovering the most kick-ass piña coladas, which Mandala serves for a mere $7 in a large margarita glass. (The secret to these coladas? Coconut ice cream. Di.vine.)
While a small coastal town, Puerto Lopez still offers a number of excursions, outings and sights to see, but Saturday found us planted on the beach outside of our hostería. You know how some women get gestational diabetes? It seems I get beach town Narcolepsy. My body and soul simply wanted the rest. I did make it down la playa for a long walk while Michelle opted for a massage. Upon her return, she took an incredible tumble, giving all passerby a full moon in the middle of the day. She was quite surprised that nobody hollered "Tiiiimbeeerrr," opting instead to come to her aid rather than snicker at her misstep. Muy amables those Ecuadorians. Unfortunate flub-up there, though the bruises to her legs and ego were nothing an additional piña colada and calamari ceviche couldn't assuage.
By la cena on Saturday night we were invited to dine with a couple we had passed earlier in the day. As it turns out, Pat and Wayne are funding their trips around the world through a travel blog. I was taking mental notes because what a way to live the retired life. Wayne is often featured on the Huffington Post online.
It is these brief connections, these passing conversations that make living and traveling abroad even more enthralling. Earlier in the day, the owner of the hostel where we had desayuno-ed had chatted us up for a good while, explaining his passion for preserving the jungle and how he came to be bit by a mosquito which had laid eggs in his face, thus making him appear to have a flesh eating disease (and still he kept his passion for preserving the jungle). Sunday I would be walking down la playa once again before our return to Quito when a nice looking, middle-aged Argentinean man would join stride with me. These rather fleeting encounters do give one glimpses into the lives of others, which I find inspires reflection on how different people's lives can be, and yet paths are somehow joined for some minutes, an hour, or perhaps, at some points, even a lifetime.
As Michelle and I reluctantly settled into the taxi that would return us to the airport in Guayaquil, I inquired of our driver, "Dos y media horas, si?" "Noo, tres y media," came Miguel's reply. The doña at our hostel had assured us that as long as the taxi driver knew where he was going, 2.5 hours was an appropriate allotment of time. Michelle glanced at her watch and we deduced that if indeed the trip took 3.5 hours, our plane would se va before we were buckled into our LAN seats. We sweetly suggested that Miguel Step On It. He didn't disappoint, so this was merely a near flub-up.
Our weekend was certainly more full of fun times than flub-ups, but if you are further interested in South American fuck-ups, see Andy´s blog Do Expats Dream of Misfit Sheep? His uncanny ability to use wit and humor to fend off the relative depression that can beset one in the face of a series of misfortunate events will provide some evening entertainment.
Until next time, mi familia y amigos, mucho amor,
Jame
I played hookie on Friday. Recently I have been reflecting upon the fact that I let my rebellious teenage years pass me by (in fact, when Michelle inquired about the worst thing I did as a kid, all I came up with was "I had a fight with my mom once. I was so mad that I slammed the door when I took off to pace the neighborhood."), so I am working on making up for lost time in my 30s it seems. As teachers back home are finishing up school this week, the ex-pats abroad in Ecuador are pushing through until July 4th this summer, so Michelle and I took off Thursday evening for la playa se llama Puerto Lopez for a long weekend of sand, sol and siestas.
Not wanting to suffer through a 10 hour bus ride, we had booked tickets to fly into Guayaquil. At lunch on Thursday I was inquiring about how long the drive was from the airport in Guayaquil to Puerto Lopez. This prompted quizzical looks from my friends at the table. First flub-up and rookie mistake. Guayaquil to Puerto Lopez: 3.5 hours by car. Manta to Puerto Lopez: 1.5 hours by car. Map reading has never been my forte.
After an easy one-hour plane ride from Quito, we set out to find a taxi to drive us those 3.5 hours to Hosteria Mandala.
 |
| This is the lovely abode that awaited us. |
About two hours into the car ride, by the way my stomach seemed to be eating itself, it occured to me that I had burned my last calorie some 30 kilometers back. Perhaps it is because we were promised a snack en el avión, and while I know portion sizes are a bit smaller here in South America, I felt that LAN Airlines proved to be a bit of a tease.
 |
| Exhibit A: Snack according to LAN standards. |
 |
| Exhibit B: Snack according to Michelle and Jamie's standards. |
Luckily the owners of Mandala were kind enough to fulfill our dinner wishes even though the kitchen was closed when we arrived at 10 pm. Turns out, this hostería has the best ceviche that I have ever introduced to my taste buds. In fact, we proceeded to eat our weight in ceviche throughout the weekend.
Our first full day in Puerto Lopez consisted of a leisurely breakfast at Mandala and then a short trip out to Los Frailes. In my experience so far, the beaches of Ecuador are quite different than the beaches in Mexico with which I became familiar in my adolescence as we took annual family trips to Cozumel, Akumal and Puerto Vallarta. Las playas that I have visited here seem to offer more solitude than the tourist attractions of Mexico. Solitude is just what I was musing on as I was lounging on the sands of this serene beach. What I find so lovely about my friendship with Michelle is that we can share space and continue to have a sense of solitude. When you find such persons, hang on to them, for they are kindred spirits.
 |
| Yoga en el mar. |
 |
| Yoga en la playa. |
It seems I have gained some wisdom in my 31 years as I left Los Frailes slightly sun-kissed rather than looking like a lobster bake. (Second degree sun burns at 13 will teach you a thing or two about slathering on copious amounts of sunscreen.)
The rest of Friday consisted of finding and devouring more seafood, reading in hammocks and discovering the most kick-ass piña coladas, which Mandala serves for a mere $7 in a large margarita glass. (The secret to these coladas? Coconut ice cream. Di.vine.)
 |
| A friend who likes to eat as much as I do is a friend for life. |
By la cena on Saturday night we were invited to dine with a couple we had passed earlier in the day. As it turns out, Pat and Wayne are funding their trips around the world through a travel blog. I was taking mental notes because what a way to live the retired life. Wayne is often featured on the Huffington Post online.
It is these brief connections, these passing conversations that make living and traveling abroad even more enthralling. Earlier in the day, the owner of the hostel where we had desayuno-ed had chatted us up for a good while, explaining his passion for preserving the jungle and how he came to be bit by a mosquito which had laid eggs in his face, thus making him appear to have a flesh eating disease (and still he kept his passion for preserving the jungle). Sunday I would be walking down la playa once again before our return to Quito when a nice looking, middle-aged Argentinean man would join stride with me. These rather fleeting encounters do give one glimpses into the lives of others, which I find inspires reflection on how different people's lives can be, and yet paths are somehow joined for some minutes, an hour, or perhaps, at some points, even a lifetime.
As Michelle and I reluctantly settled into the taxi that would return us to the airport in Guayaquil, I inquired of our driver, "Dos y media horas, si?" "Noo, tres y media," came Miguel's reply. The doña at our hostel had assured us that as long as the taxi driver knew where he was going, 2.5 hours was an appropriate allotment of time. Michelle glanced at her watch and we deduced that if indeed the trip took 3.5 hours, our plane would se va before we were buckled into our LAN seats. We sweetly suggested that Miguel Step On It. He didn't disappoint, so this was merely a near flub-up.
Our weekend was certainly more full of fun times than flub-ups, but if you are further interested in South American fuck-ups, see Andy´s blog Do Expats Dream of Misfit Sheep? His uncanny ability to use wit and humor to fend off the relative depression that can beset one in the face of a series of misfortunate events will provide some evening entertainment.
Until next time, mi familia y amigos, mucho amor,
Jame
Sunday, May 25, 2014
The unwinding of a weekend
I kept a journal last year. It was neither philosophical nor full of emotion. I merely recounted each day the events that had transpired. I was curious to look back through it at the end of the year and see how I had gotten from one place to another. Not so much how I got from November to April, but how the details from a number of days within those months led me from teaching in a school where I adore the students and staff to a whole new country, for example. I find the unpredictability of life the most fascinating.
I am at once a planner and an anti-planner. I will elaborate further. Generally speaking, I am not just a dreamer or big-talker. I like to take action and bring my desires and my dreams to fruition when possible. Por eso there are times I really need to plan and concern myself with fine details. Plans can also offer excitement and fun anticipation as I look forward to, say, the beach excursion Michelle and I embark on this coming weekend, or my trip to Argentina with NieNie in August. On the other hand, filling my day with plans can turn even events I enjoy into obligations. I find too quickly that the day becomes one big checklist. Luckily my life affords me the privilege of leaving some days and weekends unplanned, allowing my whims and needs to guide the moment. This weekend offered just such luxury.
The following are a number of (mostly) lovely events that ensued between Friday and Sunday afternoon.
Walking out of school on Friday, I crossed paths with Little Bro Pete who invited me to hit up a shawarma joint with him, Tom and company. Shawarma is the closest one will get to Happy Hour in Quito. A mango flavored hookah, cheap beer and Middle Eastern cuisine, as I shall call it, was a delightful way to end the week. The rain that poured down outside the restaurant inspired me to head home afterwards to drink hot chocolate and travel to the town of Macondo to see what the Buendia family was getting up to in One Hundred Years of Solitude.
Rising at the reasonable hour of 8 am on Saturday, I ventured to the gym. Upon arrival I found that the gymnasio was closed because of a feriado. (As it turned out, this weekend commemorated The Battle of Pichincha.) And so it goes. On my way home I stopped at Iñaquito for my weekly produce and the ingredients to make brunch for a few friends, which was the one part of the weekend that was planned in advance. Before Alli, Charles and Justin arrived, I utilized my new yoga room and got my Vinyasa flow on. By 11:45 am these three amigos were at my door, bearing gifts of flowers, coffee and Bailey's Irish Cream. I will happily host The Brunch Club (much superior to The Breakfast Club) any weekend so long as these delightful offerings are presented. ;-) As the four of us were chatting over Southwestern egg scramble and fruit salad, sipping our Bailey's and coffee, it struck me again how much my life has changed in the past year. I don't remember what I wrote in that journal for May 24th, 2013, but the events of that day were vastly different than May 24th, 2014. One day in May our lives were completely separate, and now another we are all joined.
After our bellies were sufficiently filled, I suggested we take a fieldtrip to La Thé, my favorite teashop in Quito. To our shock and dismay, La Thé was closed as well. So, what did we do with our disappointed selves? Hopped on the Ecovía to be dropped off just short of the G-Spot's doorstep. Nachos, cerveza and a big soccer match did verily improve our moods. As we were walking back towards my casa, we stumbled across a quaint little establishment that promised good microbrews, so naturally we sauntered in to seat ourselves at the bar and chat with the proprietario for un ratito. Finally making our way back to La Carolina, we tried our luck once more with another tea shop. Tippytea was indeed open as it is located inside of Mall El Jardin and the caramel rooibos that I am currently sipping is a pretty good consolation for the former tea shop being closed.
Having chatted with Tom at G-Spot, we had planned to try a new restaurant called Ajì, though my improving South American sense told me to call ahead. We will call it a milagrito that Ají 1. has a website, 2. lists a phone number, and 3. someone answered the phone when I called...and told me that the restaurant was indeed closed for the night. Whelp, no problem, we are learning to always have a Plan B, Plan C and D. At 8 pm, I was sitting with Tom at a Japanese restaurant I had been curious to explore. We were soon joined by Peter and Toby, which meant rather than going home afterwards, Toby entreated us to travel a short distance to Old Town's most delightful little calle se llama La Ronda. While Toby had friends already in the area who we were to meet up with, the night really turned into canelazoing our way up this street filled with tourists and tiendas.
This morning I indulged myself and slept until 10 am. After serving myself breakfast in bed, a routine I frequently engage in on weekends, I got myself dressed and walked over to Quicentro in search of a tailor I had been told about, as I was in need of someone to hem my jeans. This is the weekend's milagrito numero dos. After losing myself in Quicentro's subsuelo underworld, I finally located the sastería and effectively communicated my desires. It is yet to be seen if I will find my way back on Wednesday to pick up my pants, but I've always been told events, both good and bad, happen in trios.
The most essential part of the weekend came in the form of a date with Parque Metropolitano. These past weeks I have been sitting with an unsettled, somewhat restless feeling. I surmise that it is due in part to the approaching summer. While I am full of excitement and anticipation at the reality of being in the flesh with my friends and family back home, it includes more shifts and changes from the routines and people that I have become so accustomed to here in Quito. Nonetheless, as an emotionally charged woman, I have concluded, and continue to daily learn, that whatever feeling I am experiencing, it is often wisest to just observe the emotion. It is often not an indication that I need to take action, fix anything or even make any changes, at least not right away. While I love embracing many of the strong emotions I feel, it proves fruitless to try to push away sentiments that bring discomfort; in time, these feelings subside. Observing families passing time together, breathing in the fresh air and bringing awareness to the organic stimuli of nature was not cause enough to dissipate the feeling of unsettledness, but it did provide some quietude.
This early evening finds me back in my pjs, doing chores and considering what to whip up for dinner, pondering where life may be on May 25th, 2015.
I miss all of you back home dearly. And I miss the spring that seems to have finally arrived. I hope you are finding delight in the freshness of all that blooms this month.
Jame
I am at once a planner and an anti-planner. I will elaborate further. Generally speaking, I am not just a dreamer or big-talker. I like to take action and bring my desires and my dreams to fruition when possible. Por eso there are times I really need to plan and concern myself with fine details. Plans can also offer excitement and fun anticipation as I look forward to, say, the beach excursion Michelle and I embark on this coming weekend, or my trip to Argentina with NieNie in August. On the other hand, filling my day with plans can turn even events I enjoy into obligations. I find too quickly that the day becomes one big checklist. Luckily my life affords me the privilege of leaving some days and weekends unplanned, allowing my whims and needs to guide the moment. This weekend offered just such luxury.
The following are a number of (mostly) lovely events that ensued between Friday and Sunday afternoon.
Walking out of school on Friday, I crossed paths with Little Bro Pete who invited me to hit up a shawarma joint with him, Tom and company. Shawarma is the closest one will get to Happy Hour in Quito. A mango flavored hookah, cheap beer and Middle Eastern cuisine, as I shall call it, was a delightful way to end the week. The rain that poured down outside the restaurant inspired me to head home afterwards to drink hot chocolate and travel to the town of Macondo to see what the Buendia family was getting up to in One Hundred Years of Solitude.
Rising at the reasonable hour of 8 am on Saturday, I ventured to the gym. Upon arrival I found that the gymnasio was closed because of a feriado. (As it turned out, this weekend commemorated The Battle of Pichincha.) And so it goes. On my way home I stopped at Iñaquito for my weekly produce and the ingredients to make brunch for a few friends, which was the one part of the weekend that was planned in advance. Before Alli, Charles and Justin arrived, I utilized my new yoga room and got my Vinyasa flow on. By 11:45 am these three amigos were at my door, bearing gifts of flowers, coffee and Bailey's Irish Cream. I will happily host The Brunch Club (much superior to The Breakfast Club) any weekend so long as these delightful offerings are presented. ;-) As the four of us were chatting over Southwestern egg scramble and fruit salad, sipping our Bailey's and coffee, it struck me again how much my life has changed in the past year. I don't remember what I wrote in that journal for May 24th, 2013, but the events of that day were vastly different than May 24th, 2014. One day in May our lives were completely separate, and now another we are all joined.
 |
| Brunching with these beautiful friends is a delightful way to begin a Saturday. |
Having chatted with Tom at G-Spot, we had planned to try a new restaurant called Ajì, though my improving South American sense told me to call ahead. We will call it a milagrito that Ají 1. has a website, 2. lists a phone number, and 3. someone answered the phone when I called...and told me that the restaurant was indeed closed for the night. Whelp, no problem, we are learning to always have a Plan B, Plan C and D. At 8 pm, I was sitting with Tom at a Japanese restaurant I had been curious to explore. We were soon joined by Peter and Toby, which meant rather than going home afterwards, Toby entreated us to travel a short distance to Old Town's most delightful little calle se llama La Ronda. While Toby had friends already in the area who we were to meet up with, the night really turned into canelazoing our way up this street filled with tourists and tiendas.
 |
| Canelazo Stop #1 |
The most essential part of the weekend came in the form of a date with Parque Metropolitano. These past weeks I have been sitting with an unsettled, somewhat restless feeling. I surmise that it is due in part to the approaching summer. While I am full of excitement and anticipation at the reality of being in the flesh with my friends and family back home, it includes more shifts and changes from the routines and people that I have become so accustomed to here in Quito. Nonetheless, as an emotionally charged woman, I have concluded, and continue to daily learn, that whatever feeling I am experiencing, it is often wisest to just observe the emotion. It is often not an indication that I need to take action, fix anything or even make any changes, at least not right away. While I love embracing many of the strong emotions I feel, it proves fruitless to try to push away sentiments that bring discomfort; in time, these feelings subside. Observing families passing time together, breathing in the fresh air and bringing awareness to the organic stimuli of nature was not cause enough to dissipate the feeling of unsettledness, but it did provide some quietude.
 |
| I know not the purpose of this structure near my favorite lookout in the park, but it matters not--I love tortugas. |
I miss all of you back home dearly. And I miss the spring that seems to have finally arrived. I hope you are finding delight in the freshness of all that blooms this month.
Jame
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)