A Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy

Last night was our first adventure to the social scene of Quito, as we figured we might as well get all of our orienting done with as soon as possible. After much worrying and fuss from our host mothers (paranoid sweet ladies that they are), we managed to convince them that we could navigate the city safely, though I was the only one who speaks any Spanish. Starting off conning our taxi driver into thinking that I’d lived in Quito for 6 months and had NEVER paid less than $3 for the trip, I had a feeling we were in for adventure.

After being dropped in the middle of the street and almost hit by a passing ambulance, we found most of the rest of our group and went to hit up Gringolandia (literally, “land of foreigners”), one of the biggest party areas in Quito. Surprisingly, it was far less sketch than expected. 

At one point, we realized that we were strolling along Calle José Calama, named for one of the strictest and most morally repressive bishops in the history of Quito. It turns out that the Quitanians, as a token of their regard, decided to name one of the wildest streets in the city after him!

I think this city and I are going to get along just fine.

Soroche

This whole Quito thing is now undeniably for real! I was lucky enough to get my first glimpse of the city flying in Tuesday evening as the sun was just beginning to set. The clouds rolling down the mountains into the valley glowed gold, and the brightly colored buildings of the city seemed to crawl up to meet them. 

My host family somehow managed to find me in the packed airport—it seems that short hair isn’t a particularly common trait amongst Quitanians. They are an older couple and speak absolutely no English, which I think will end up being dreadfully good for me. So far, there haven’t been any unfortunate miscommunications... yet.

Our first day started primarily as orientation, which was a bit difficult as the fatigue resulting from the high altitude (known locally as soroche) had a definite effect. After a fantastic lunch with quite a view, however, we headed down to the historic center of Quito to go church-hopping. Led by the director of the organization Quito Eterno, we first visited La Compañia de Jesus, a Baroque-style church with a pretty impressive (and intimidating) painting of Hell in the front of the nave.

We couldn't take pictures inside, but outside was still impressive!

We then headed to the cathedral and adjoining bishop’s house. Although we couldn’t take photos inside, we climbed up a tiny, steep spiral staircase and through a candle-lit passage in the walls of the cathedral out onto the roof. Claustrophobia aside, the view on top was completely worth it. 

 The cathedral from above...

...and from across the main plaza at night.

Our final stop was the convent of San Agustín, which somehow managed to be completely silent, even with a loud demonstration by the communist youth party almost right outside the walls (politics in Ecuador are VERY interesting). The evening was finished off with a beautiful dinner, complete with ice cream in a bowl of dry ice, which proceeded to amuse the nerds amongst us.

Delicious nerdy noms

Likely in anticipation of the effects of altitude, yesterday was primarily sitting and lecturing, and today was our last day of orienting, this time at the Universidad San Francisco de Quito, where we will be taking classes. Tomorrow, however, is our first field trip—a day shopping in the market town of Otavalo!

Ready, set...SPAZ!!!

In less than 12 hours, I will (hopefully) be midway to Miami. This is a somewhat terrifying prospect; it seems as if there is no possible way that I can actually be ready to dive headlong into the middle of South America.

See, this is the point at which the excitement over travelling and last minute preparations combine to form little anal-retentive fits. I think I have the illusion of preparedness...

...but am a bit baffled that I can fit 7 weeks in one suitcase and one backpack. 

On the other hand, though, I’m pretty sure that there’s going to be an inevitable learning curve, and let’s face it. If I’m starting off at a lower baseline, it just means that I have more opportunity for increase! (If learning is defined as the rate of knowledge gained over time, could a “learning curve” be described by d(learning)/dt, or f’’ of the increase in pieces of knowledge?) Then I get thoughts like that, and wonder how I can even manage to leave the house, much less the country.

Either way, though: Ready or not, Quito here I come!

To pack, or not to pack...

It’s t-minus-34 hours until departure, and I am faced with a decision. I can either pack and prepare for my upcoming journey, or I can start a blog. Let’s see. Be productive... or muse about productivity. 

Blog it is.

This leads me to wonder, however, as to why I am starting a blog in the first place (and to when I got so pretentiously meta). I mean, sure. I’m off to Ecuador to see exciting things, meet new people, eat tasty foods and am therefore clearly qualified to provide witty yet thought-provoking reflections on these experiences, but why not just journal quietly to myself?

First, there was a challenge. “You? Maintain a blog? That’s funny, you’re WAY too lazy for that!” We know how I am about challenges. Enough said.

Second, I have to be honest. I’m horrible at communicating with people. It’s not that I don’t care, or that I don’t love you, but I’m not the type to call or send flowers. Or emails. Or even facebook messages. So if you happen to care whether or not I’m still alive in my travels (though I’m not sure why you would), here’s your proof. 

Finally, I think I could use the structured form of reflection to fully appreciate the next 7 weeks of my life. It could be too easy to rush from experience to experience without ever truly stopping to fully process and synthesize anything, much less everything. Tempting as it might be, though, I suspect that some dedicated reflecting might well lead to a fuller, richer journey.

I suppose I could throw in my enjoyment of humorously self-deprecating anecdotes, but I have sneaking suspicion that there will be plenty of mishaps and silly adventures for that to come easily enough.

So with these three goals in mind, I have a plan (and suppose the third one could perhaps be considered a hypothesis?) and realize that out of all the experiences to come, packing is perhaps not one enhanced by deep reflection, and just needs to get done.

It’s t-minus-33.5 hours to departure, and it’s time to get going.