CUENCA OR BUST

The reason that I am so late with my blog postings lately is because I have to drive in a car... a lot.

Not kidding.

My ass will never heal.

OMG what a day.

Ok... the car-rental fiasco sorted itself out.  Fingers crossed... still!  Finally got the car... ready to go.

When I say that we 'got' the car,  I meant that I had to sign my name to about 700 documents... and I felt like I was signing my life away.   Well, my credit card anyway.  They kept phoning to confirm my credit card number and limit for a bunch of those old fashioned 'clunk clunk' machine verifications.  One, I think, was in case of any damage that may occur on the trip.  This one, they assured me, would be ripped up the moment the car was returned in one piece.   The second, they supposedly keep on file for a month, in case we get in to trouble with the police...

God forbid.

Note to self: make sure they rip up that authorization in a month.

I kept telling everyone that I was able to drive... but they kept telling me that I don't know how to drive here... but I assure you, I do.  Perhaps it's slightly crazier than the traffic and rules that I've grown accustomed to, but I think that if I'm schooled quickly on how to lay on the horn and yell from time to time, I'll make it on the streets here.

The dream of the drive will have to die with me.

I went out with Duval and Pamela last night. They took me to Puerto Santa Ana and it was fantastic. I am really impressed at the up and coming Guayaquil that I have encountered.  I remember a very dirty, dangerous city... but not anymore.

They had some beers (I had wine) - we laughed and miscommunicated a lot but... it turned out to be a really fun evening.  I had to have a bit of a laugh because I would never point at myself if we had to name a woman of high fashion or intelligence... but I do pride myself on having the smarts not to wear high heals clogs on cobblestones.  And cobblestones, they were!

Pamela, Duvalito y yo!

Point for Jo.

At one point during the evening, we started talking about the weekend trip that Mari and I were going on.  Through thoroughly broken communication, I fully understood that Duval said something along the lines of Saturday is Ingapirca and Sunday is the Train Tour."

Uh... nope... sorry, but you've got it wrong... 

Yes... 

No... once again... you're wrong... 

It went back and forth for a bit, but I held my ground, as I’d been the actual person who booked the tour…in English.   And I’d also been staring at the possibility of booking it for a couple months.

Finally I pulled out my phone and (regardless of the lack of internet connection, a confirmation email was in my in-box from earlier.)   

See?  
I pretty much shoved my phone in his face...

Train & Ingapirca - same tour - same day.

Oooohhhh... 

I insisted that he phone Mari immediately because the last thing I needed was for this to end up being a mis-communicated confusing mess of going to Ingapirca twice...

Dios mio!

I have no idea how Mari was equally as confused, considering she was right beside me, reading about the entire tour in Spanish AS I booked it.  And all the confirmations for the tour, the hostel... everything, I forwarded on to her as well.

I was wondering why the blank stares, when I would say things like "Maybe we can walk around the city for a bit... and maybe go to Banos for a few hours?" ... and I'd get a response like "probably no time... maybe in the night."

Huh?

I just sat there wondering what we were going to do with all our time, considering we were planning on leaving at 10am and it took 3.5 hours to get there.

Ok - so huge weekend trip problem number one diverted, thanks to me and my multi-lingual problem-solving go-go Gadget abilities.

Our car had a GPS... and when I say "Our car had..." it actually means that we had one in the car, but still Mari asked people on the street if we were heading in the right direction.

Just follow the purple line on the little screen... don't bug people...Follow the f'in purple line.

The road to Cuenca was .... well, interesting.

At first, fun and picturesque.  Driving though the little towns, seeing the banana trees, mangos, fruit stands... etc...

I took a few photos.

Of course, whenever I take a photo of someone selling something, I feel obligated to buy something. So I bought a stack of verdes for Mami... which is about 25 green plantains.  Looks like we will be eating this every day for the next week. They were only $1... how could I resist?

It was a really lush climb up... but a very sharp, curvy mountain road which made me happy that I wasn't driving (although I'll never admit it!)  Gorgeous views... 

Lovely...

As we gained altitude, it got drier and the walls of rock formations along the side of the road started to resemble a collection of angry ape faces.  

Then the fog hit.

It was so dense that it made it almost impossible to see.  It was very reminiscent of being in a snow storm in Roger's Pass and having to open your driver's side  door to follow the yellow line.  That's how bad it was.

I would also like to say "Thank God it was a paved road," but I think that the word 'paved' could be discretionary... 

Super shit

A lot of it was 'paved,' but we can't forget about the mud, potholes, gravel, rockslides, boulders...

Not to mention the people just walking along the side of the road, the farm animals here and there, and the occasional truck just stopped, willy nilly.

I had to pee mucho during the ride because I thought it might be a good idea to guzzle 4 bottles of water.

It was really hot... but turned really cold quickly.  I almost wanted to turn the heat on in the car.

When we arrived , it was a bit of another stress induced factor trying to find our hostel.  Winding our way through narrow one-way streets... drove around and around and around.

Finally I took over. 

Turn left.  NO!  Turn left...

FINALLY... we found the little door that led in to the hostel.

Ok... I don't mean any disrespect... actually, maybe I do.  

This place was a dive.
#shithole

I'll bring you back to yesterday when we booked, ok?

I was online, perusing different locations to stay at... and had actually picked out quite a few.  There were some really nice ones, centrally located, beautiful views... breakfast included...

Mari said "No.. only for 2 nights. Muy caro." (translation: Too expensive)

True... we were driving in... sleeping... tour... sleeping... gone. 

Ok- Then I found a place that looked "not bad."  Quite quaint actually...

How about this place? It's only $7... two twin beds.

Fine. Booked. Done.

Little bit of bling bling. The lady at
the market thought that I was
actually going to buy it!

Then the 'arrival at the hostel' part of the day comes in to play... and it's not the dream vacation world they presented to the world on the internet.

First- they only take cash. 

Sketch.

Second - when they showed us to our room, it was DIRTY!  We had to sit there while they made the beds.  And that was all they did.  I kept staring at the floor and the table thinking .. sweep? vacuum? wipe?.... 

I had to let it go though... it's only $7... 

No private bathroom either... but it's only $7.

Might I add that the bathroom is a teeny weeny room under the stairs... like where the little people live.

They handed us both towels, that I can only assume were left over from the early 1970's.  Thin, small... more like the rags you pull out to wash your car or clean up when your dog accidentally pees on the linoleum. 

Flower Market in Cuenca

Finally they got the beds made and off we went to explore Cuenca.

Hold on, NO... I'm lying... wait... we couldn't go explore Cuenca... because the door wouldn't lock.  And the reason it wouldn't lock was because there was a major hole in the frame where one would only assume that the lock would normally go.  Close the door... the door swings open... slam close the door... the door swings open...

Security at it's finest.

They told us that they "had no idea"...

Ya.

I'd only been there 7 minutes and already, I thought I had lice.

At least I'd forgotten about my itchy ankles and was now just concentrating on scratching my head.

Need to change rooms immediately.   

I also could've really used some wine too.

See? Pallet... wheels... shit

My bed was like compressed sawdust... and had been placed on a pallet frame with wheels.  I sat on my bed and leaned against the wall to do some writing and my bed wheeled away on me!  I almost fell between the crevice of the bed and the wall.  Thank God for my micro-speed reflexes.

And it's cold again.

I had to sleep with my jacket on.

Speaking of cold... Cuenca is at a higher elevation, so guess what that means?  ... the one and only outfit comes out!  

It was like being reunited with an old friend.

You again.

My friend, Dorothy, gave me the advice of 'half the clothes, double the money'... but unfortunately she was about a week too late with this guidance.  So I'm going to start a Go Fund Me page.  Send money now... I only have one outfit for colder climates.  I really think it'll appeal to the affluent and generous.

Some hippy was upstairs wailing on his guitar.  Sirens kept going off.  Cars honking.  People yelling.  I could hear the person in the room next door sneezing. I hated this place.

I realize that I am such a complainer.  I think it's just because it was  raining & cold, and I was tired, and my ankles itched, and it was loud, and my bum hurt, and my whole body felt like it was a nesting bed for small bugs... that's all.

No biggie.

Guess it's not THAT bad here... if you like fleas and dirty stuff.

I decided then and there that we were definitely NOT staying another night in this hole, so I started researching other places around the city... and I had the "money is no object" frame of mind.  Usually I never ever enter in to that frame of mind... unless there is wine involved.

Cuenca Photo now and Cuenca Photo then!

Then Mari had a bit of a freak out about the tour we were taking in the morning.

Did they know where our hostel is?  I think so.

Did I tell them the address? Pretty sure I did... but you know when someone questions you, you suddenly start to doubt yourself.

I think I told them the address... but I don't really remember. 

God, I don't remember how many bananas I ate yesterday.  

So then she wanted to see every email and verification... and is desperately trying to phone them, to no avail.

Not sure exactly when these were, but 
regardless, I think that we can all agree 
that I can pretty much rock 
white pants atany time of the year.

Life is suddenly turning mucho chaotico rapido... so I decide to send the company an email and ask them to call Mari.  They did... all is fine... they were set to come pick us both up at 7am... stress over.

When people ask me why I travel alone, this is why.  If I screw up, I'm usually only responsible for my own mess. 

We walked around Cuenca and neither of us remember a single thing.  Took some photos, had some food, filled each other in on the past 26 years via Google Translate and a bottle of red...

It's funny to think that 26 years have passed. In that time frame, I have traveled through Europe and Australia.  September 11th happened... along with the 2004 Tsunami. John Candy, Mother Theresa, Michael Jackson and Princess Diana have died... to just mention a few.  When I was in Ecuador, Pablo Escobar was at the height of his drug empire in Columbia...

Of course, not much has changed with me... I'm still that broke, clumsy, silly ole drunk I've always been.

Cheers!

DRIVING DOWN MEMORIA LANE

First, I have to mention that I woke up with bites all over my ankles.  My ankles are really taking a beating this trip, eh? 

Am I worried about Malaria?

I must admit, it has crossed my mind... BUT... the itching is bugging me far more than the fear of a life-threatening disease.  If I do fall ill to the dreaded malaria, it will all be in vain.  All because I didn't want to spend my vacation 'psycho' or with a yeast infection.  

Note to self: Pick up mosquito net...

And in regards to the other state of affairs with my ankles, the swelling is going down.... and my nose is starting to turn back to a nice shade of 'the-rest-of-my-face,' so maybe there is a reason to rejoice.

After being in this country since Sunday evening... and at such a high altitude, and also trying to manoeuvre my way along in a casual, cool and collected manner... I have realized that on top of the bloating, I have also been quite constipated.  I realize that this portion of my blog may require parental consent, but it's true. PG.

Second day in the Muentes home and I'm feeling confident and comfortable enough to hit el baño... catch my drift?

How do I say this?

... the toilet was BROKEN.  

Millions of voices screamed in my head. "WHY???" and "WHY ME?" were among the two most frequent...

I won't get in to specifics... it was just broken.   I had to find someone... immediately... attempt an explanation in broken Spanish... random hand gestures... some pointing... holding the nose a little bit... an emojicon on my iPhone... need I continue?
#muchoembarrassing

You can't make this stuff up.  I can't anyway.

Furniture then...

Ok... enough of the embarrassing for now... I'm sure that there will be more of that in the days to come!  

The house that Mari lives in is in a gated community in the north of Guayaquil.  Apparently when I lived in Guayaquil, there was nothing here, and it was all only recently built in the past 10-15 years.  The house is like a condominium; 2 floors - 4 bedrooms.  Mami and Mari's brother Alex live here with Mari and her daughter.  It's a very simple setting and exactly the same furniture that Mami & Papi had in La Alborada, when I lived there.

On another note, I did meet the dog.

Furniture now...

And yes, he did try to murder me.  I can say, with all certainty, that he and I will never be friends.  I tried a few times to say "hola" through the kitchen window.  In turn, he tried to jump through the kitchen window to kill me.

Brave, my ass...

When I lived here before, the family had 2 dogs- Coco and Cholita.  They were NOT abhorrent and savage. In fact, I quite liked them both.

As I might have mentioned before, I was desperate to do laundry.  Five days in the same outfit can really take it's toll on a person.  And when you're living out of a small bag, the clothes that you've been wearing for those 5 days can take a toll on everything else.  Basically, to put it mildly, and in no uncertain terms... I stunk.  

Everyone looked very worried when I asked about laundry.  

Did I need it today? Was tomorrow ok?

I was really having problems understanding the entire ordeal, but I didn't want to be a burden... and then it became clear.  They only have a washing machine... so all laundry has to be hung out to dry.  NOT a problem at all.

It was AMAZING to finally get a good home cooked meal, although I think that Mami thinks that I am either trying to maintain my current weight or gain from here on up.  My first lunch consisted of about 3 cups of rice, a piece of pork, some beef, 2 pieces of chicken, a slab of avocado, and a huge plate of salad.

"Please! Please! Eat... por favour, mi hija."

Not to be rude... but no.
I had to put my foot down and head back in the kitchen to return half of the food.  It was a little bit silly, to be sure.

We drove everywhere today.... and I'm not kidding... everywhere.
Hours of driving.  
I'm absolutely NOT making this up... it was probably about 6-7 hours of sitting in the car... sporadically, of course, but nonetheless... still a lot of time.

Remember the story about how my bum hurt from sitting too much after the plane ride?  It went on full agony today.  See... it all starts very innocently with the sore ass, and then it quickly turns to cramps in my leg.  Sometimes I can massage this out, if I'm lucky.  But usually, it turns straight to restless leg syndrome, and this really sucks.

Before I left on my trip, I had paid a quick visit to the pharmacy to see if I could pick up something to help me out with the problem.  ALL he had was homeopathy pills... which, I might add, 6 days in to my trip, are shit.

We had to sort out the rental car to get to Cuenca to do the Train Tour on the weekend.  I offered to pay for the rental... thinking maybe $50-$60.  Nope... not that much.  $160 US... plus gas... parking fee... not cheap... WOW!... thank God I'm really rich.

Oh well... I think of it this way.  It's a twice in a lifetime trip, right? Maybe more if they'll have me back...

Driving through the streets of Guayaquil, a few things started to come back to me.  The guys at the lights selling anything and everything you might ever want - water, juice, oranges, lemons, mangos, sun blinders, cell chargers, gloves with tattoos... (who wouldn't want sleeve gloves that look like tattoos while you're waiting at a red light?) 

There are guys that go right in front of your car and juggle... (they're my favourite) and guys walking around on stilts...
Some people just stand there and beg for money.

I love seeing the shops and restaurants with English names.

• Yogurt Planet.
• BIG Market (tiniest store ever).
• Chancho Express - Translates to Pig/Pork Express and it has a logo of a flying pig next to the name.
• YES Food - reassuring, I guess. Better than NO Food, right?
• Kinder Joy - as opposed to Kinder Suprise.
• Full House - this is the name of a HOTEL actually... perhaps giving off the wrong impression??  Who am I to judge?

But above all, the smell of Guayaquil is overwhelmingly reminiscent.  Of course, it is slightly more prevalent in certain places...  It's hard to describe, but if I had to- it's a bit of a cross between meat cooking on the BBQ, corn on the cob, campfire, a smidge bit of day old garbage and exhaust...

On our travels through Guayaquil, Mari & Mami took me to my old school, Santo Domingo de Guzman.
It was exactly how I remember it.  Unfortunately I didn't manage to keep in touch with any of my old friends from school... so that's too bad not being able to reconnect.  I remember having lunch with one girl one day and then the next day, having lunch with someone else.. and it causing quite the stir. 

Remember my very first evening in Ecuador, when I stayed at the airport hotel and I thought perhaps either the bed was too short, or I was abnormally tall... well, turns out that I AM abnormally tall.  We did do a walk through of the school and I must say, I am a full 1-2 feet taller than all the men, women and students.  At one point, I glimpsed myself in the mirror with everyone else and all I could think was 'I'm Gulliver's Travels'... 

But... honestly, I do NOT miss that old school.  The nuns hated me and they used to yell at me over the loud speaker and call me  Gringa.  Basically ignored me the entire year I was there!   Just because I liked to have a laugh every now and then!  I also used to throw a little bit of a fit every time I had to go to religion class... which was once a day.  

I was put in the Computation Class, to study computers... but mostly I just spent my time studying Spanish songs that I liked and writing letters to friends at home.  I can still sing all the words to most Garibaldi songs... plus a few by Luis Miguel and Ricardo Montanero.  

So whenever you hear me bragging that I did an extra year of school in Ecuador, you now know the truth.  But, the learning of all the songs and STILL being able to belt out the tune... impressive... if you ask me.

The place has really commericalized up since I attended.  There are about 4 restaurants and 3 pubs in the surrounding area of the school. I said to Mami, "if these pubs had been here when I was here, I never would have made it to school."

Just sayin'...

Xiomara, Mari y Mami

Next stop... the house that we all used to live in.  It was sold years ago, but it was fun for all of us to go see it again.  I remember it exactly,  I guess because I was there every single day.  The area was MUCH busier than it was when we lived there... in fact, it was crazy busy.  There was not even half the traffic then that there was now.  

Mami y yo

I remember the small house well... the living room/dining room area with the plastic covered furniture - not great to sit in during the heat of the day with shorts on...  if you know what I mean.  


I remember the kitchen, where I once decided to attempt my first juggling experience with eggs, much to my host mother's surprise and disgust.  Or the time that I stumbled in, early, to grab some orange juice, and was greeted by two live chickens scurrying around...  Papi said "para comer esta noche" (translation- for dinner tonight).  

Exactly what you want to hear first thing in the morning. 

Me in front of my old bedroom!

I remember the tiny back room off the kitchen, where the maids used to stay. They would clean the house, prepare meals, do our laundry... it was amazing... sometimes.  A few times, maids were fired for stealing (sometimes from me)... and some, I would really connect with and then they'd leave!  It's probably the only time that I will ever have a live-in maid, so I should recollect with fondness.  



I remember the bedroom that I shared with Mari. We actually shared a double bed for an entire year.  It sucked and let me tell you how extremely awkward it was at first.  Ultimately, I chose to suck it up and not to complain to AFS because my family was so amazing and I didn't want to have to leave them.




I also remember the cockroaches... and I have a vivid memory of opening the bathroom door in the middle of the night and hearing the crunch crunch crunch... it was inevitable. They were everywhere.  

It's one of those things that most find absolutely disgusting and appalling, but after time, you learn to live with... and deal with.  It all became a year of experiences and sacrifices and learning and growing...  and regardless of the cockroaches, sticking to plastic furniture, sharing a bed... whatever... I'd give anything to be able to go back and do it all over again.

Maybe that's why I'm here...

BIENVENDO!

I have officially arrived in Guayaquil.

It was definitely bittersweet.

I went through the usual and consistent insecurities while departing the plane... going through security... awaiting my luggage and, of course, heading down that long corridor to the open double doors of anxiously awaiting friends and family...
In fact, every turn I made, I thought "Oh God... the arrivals lounge"... then it would just be another airport hallway...

I was trying to remember if I was more nervous this time or the first time that I flew in to Guayaquil.  Perhaps the first time, because I didn't speak ANY Spanish, had no idea what was waiting for me... and also, regardless of whether I like the people waiting beyond the double doors or not, I was stuck with them for a year.  It was a lot for an 18 year old punk to process at the time. 

You would think that by the time I actually reached the arrivals lounge, I would have my emotions in check, tears dried up and I'd be strong enough to just walk in and say "hey."  Casual.  Cool.

Nope.

Bags in hand, heading down that hallway, fidgeting the entire time... sunglasses on, sunglasses off... I suddenly saw them waiting there, right in front of the door.  They were difficult to miss with their balloons and 'Welcome Joanna' sign.

Before I even made it through the double doors, the flood gates opened and emotion over took.  I threw my bags aside, arms in the air, tears streaming down my face!  

Mami!!!!

I threw my arms around her!  She just kept saying "Mi hija. Que linda!"  Spanish, English... it didn't matter.  We were back together again.

Krystel, the daughter of Mari, was there, as well as Melanie and Dana, the beautiful daughters of Duvalito.  

Conversation was limited... but feasible.  My problem right now is the I know some words & verbs... some past tense, some present, some future... but definitely not all.  So mostly I just throw random words out there, in no particular order... and eliminate the words I can't remember from any conversation I'm attempting... which proves well for communication if you enjoy broken, confusing, unfathomable sentences of mispronounced words.  Sometimes I even shake it up a little bit and say something in French.  I try to keep everyone on their toes... including myself.

We all crammed in Mari's little white car and headed home, with a quick stop at SuperMaxi to pick up some much needed supplies for myself.  I assured the family that I had both Google translate and a Speak To Spanish app on my phone... we were going to be ok... fingers crossed.

We headed North to where everyone lived, in an area that was not built when I lived here... so it was difficult to recognize anything.  And the HEAT... love the heat.

I kept trying to explain how cold it was in Quito, and how I'd been wearing the same outfit for a week... but then I realized that due to my lack of Spanish knowledge and my certain inability in being able to piece the proper words together that I did know, I was only making myself out to sound like a dirty bum.  So I shut up.

I was promised laundry back at the house.  Dreams do come true. 

The day was spent mostly just trying to get to know each other again, with our limited communication.  A lot of smiles and then some more smiles.., but honestly, the entire day, we didn't stop talking.  Their English isn't great at all... so Spanish it is.

It better come sooner that later.  

Mari is on holidays from work until next week, so we have planned a trip to Cuenca for the weekend. There is a Devil's Nose mountain train excursion that I have been wanting to go on, that won't accept less than 2 people - stick that to the singles out there.  How rude.  

Mari had been looking in to another tour- double the price... train without mountains... and not going to Cuenca...  Finally, I had to say no, because the whole reason for the train ride was to see the mountains and experience close to what I had experienced before.  I'm not hard up for a boring train ride.  And not to see Cuenca?  Well that would just mean that I would have to go again another day.  

Duvalito

But it all worked out.  We are going to rent a car, head in to the mountains on Saturday- stay at a hostel for the weekend- and do the tour on Sunday. Returning on Monday.  Should be fun.  Hope my Spanish is better by then...

Mami

Duval (my host brother) and his wife came by in the night for a visit.  His wife, Pamela, is the reason that I found the family in the first place.  When I searched out 'Duval Muentes' in facebook, it was a photo of the two of them from her profile that appeared.  By the time they left, my Spanish had improved 10 fold.  All questions were directed at me and I either had to understand or figure it out... either way, I had to answer.  

There were a LOT of laughs and reminiscing.

Mami is the same... although she is 26 years older, and has gone through such a difficult time losing Papi... she is still beautiful and tiny!  I tower over her.

Papi

When Papi got ill... it cost so much money that the family had to sell off everything that they had to help with medical bills. She explained to me that she had to sell all her possessions, jewelry... and go live in New York for 6 months to work in a factory... just to send money back to Ecuador to help out financially.  It broke my heart to hear this.  Papi was such a grand man... full of life and smiles.   And so incredibly generous.  This picture below was at a celebration of Reina de la Tercera Edad Ecuador.  How do I explain this?  It was almost like a beauty pageant for older ladies.  Anyway- my host grandmother was a participant, and at this particular event, Papi said to me:

"You is my son."  

I wasn't insulted, due to the fact that he was three sheets to the wind, didn't speak Spanish... and what he actually meant to say was "You are my daughter"

... and that meant a lot.

TOO EARLY TO SPEAK SPANISH

As I wrote this, I was sitting in the Quito Airport, awaiting boarding information for my flight to Guayaquil.  I have to admit that I was more than a little bit nervous.

I kept zipping in to the bathroom to have one more look at my red nose, my bloated cheeks, my wrinkles and my dry, fluffy hair.  God... what an impression I will make.

The last time that these people saw me, I was 19... 

I’ve aged… I should have stopped smoking years ago. I should have started back at the gym in September, like I'd planned.  Why did I cancel my hair appointment before I left?  I'm at a loss.

My insecurities are going in to over drive...

Ok... tranquility...

Last night I was on the WhatsUp app with Mari (my host sister) and I asked the big question,

“Who’s coming to the airport to meet me?”

From what I recall, families here have a tendency to meet and greet in droves.  I had to mentally prepare myself.  I had to be ready for the flood gates to open.

Much to my delight though, she told me that it was just going to be herself, Mami and her daughter, Krystel.

Bueno. I could cope with that.

She also 'reminded' me that she has a 'brave' dog.

"Brave?"

Like... the building is on fire and the dog runs in to save the babies - brave?

No.  Not really.  Perhaps 'brave' isn't exactly the word that we are looking for here.  In fact, I think that these words might be more suitable;

• Aggressive
• Hostile
• Mean
• Untrained

Apparently she rescued him from the streets after the earthquake hit Ecuador and he's very 'protective.'  She has assured me that he will be kept in the back room the entire time I am here, for fear that he'll attack me.

If you ask me, nothing says "Welcome to my House" like the fear of an aggressive animal.

Wouldn't be a holiday without it.

Anyway, I caught a taxi from the hostel at 8am.

While I was waiting, I tried to buy a bottled water.

No change for a $10…

The one thing about here that astounds me is that no one ever has change!  It’s a thing. A real thing.  It wasn’t like I was paying with a $50… it was a $10.

The taxi drive was slightly infuriating, although kind.  I shouldn't be so mean, I was just cranky...

He just kept talking & talking & talking.  
Now… seriously, my Spanish isn’t THAT bad.  I can get by.
But it was early, I had hardly slept and I was really not in the mood to discuss how many hills there are in Canada, if I like the cold weather, what kind of a car I drive… etc etc...

There are moments in life, where I firmly believe that silence is bliss.

Massages… dental hygienist visits… taxi rides in foreign countries when it’s too early to think...

Now on the flip side of this… I am confident that my Spanish is coming back, bit by bit.  If I am confused by something, I find out the word and it’s locked in! (maybe... hopefully... sometimes.). Or... slightly easier... if I don’t know a word, I often find myself saying it in English, but with a thick Spanish accent.

I have noticed that I do have my usual expressions that I use more often than not, that almost make me sound & feel fluent… "hip"... 

• Que t’al?
• Claro
• Bueno
• Si
• Perdoname

They’re getting old though… I need to come up with some new ones.

OH God… I was getting more and more nervous by the moment.  All I was hearing over the loud speaker was:

"Attention Passengers- Flight A blah blah blah... is now boarding to Guayaquil and San Cristobal - please have your passport ready."

That is MY flight... exactly.  So confused.  I was pretty sure that the board said that my departure gate was A5... but everyone was lining up at A6.  Maybe they changed it last minute.  Who was I to complain or judge?

Got my ass up, got in line… off I go!

Standing in line- thinking 'this is it'… I’m on my way to see my family… and of course, if any of you know me, I started to swell up with tears.  It was going to be such an emotional moment... after all these years. 

Standing in line to board my flight, tears have started to stream down my cheeks... thoughts of the reunion ahead of me, flooding my mind.  Where were the reality TV crews when I needed them?  This was going to be a BIG moment.

Big. Huge.

But... almost immediately, I'm snapped out of sentimental delusion, as a very loud siren goes off, indicating that I’m attempting to board the wrong flight. 

The attendant looked at my pass and pointed over to the A5 departure gate; 

"You board there."

Stop your blubbering, idiot. Wrong flight.

Back to my seat, tail between my legs.
I KNEW it was A5...
Errrr....

We boarded next.

When choosing my seat, I actually thought I was playing it smart and picking at the front of the plane… but the jokers tricked me by turning the seating map around.  So I am actually in the VERY back on the plane, shoved in the corner… which means I am the last off.

That can be a good or bad thing.

I look at it like this;
If you are first off… more anxiety watching your bag never come down the carrousel.  Sends me in to panic most every single time.  My bag has never been first off…

But... if you're last off… you run more of a risk of someone stealing your bag.  "This one has been making the rounds a few times, grab it!"

If you really think about it though, if I was a luggage thief, I would probably opt for designer set… and not the dirty hippy backpack. 

NOT… that I’m a hippy. 
Just thinking realistically and stereotypically.

Off to Guayaquil... :-)