Road Trip!

Universidad Católica, Quito

Election Results
Just because I know the US media doesn´t care and didn´t report it... President Correa won 82% of the vote to install a constitutional assembly to elaborate a new constitution. It was a simple ¨Yes¨or ¨No¨ballot, and with obligatory voting over 9 million of the country´s 12 million people participated. Now we´ll see who the 130 officials to be selected for the assembly will be. Can you imagine if we had obligatory voting in our democracy?! Maybe more than 4 out of 10 people would vote.


Los Cucuruchus
For two weeks Nicole and I had discussed attending the Semana Santa (Easter week) parade through colonial (Old Town) Quito on Good Friday. Every city and town throughout the country celebrates with festivities and parades, but in Quito and Guayacil it is world famous. As in Jerusalem, here they parade through the streets for 6 hours displaying their penitence. The faithful march and pray, some on their knees, many shoeless, many carrying heavy crosses or wearing actual crowns of thorns. What´s more, there are those who make themselves bleed through self-flagellation. By far the most interesting scene is the Cucuruchus, an estimated 800 person strong portion of the procession who don purple robes and pointed hats with eyeholes - purple is the color of pain and mourning in honor of Christ.

I ended up going to the beach instead of staying in Quito to watch. And so you may ask, why on earth did I wait in great anticipation to witness this grand procession of Klan-like proportions only to steal away at the last minute?

Vamos a Esmeraldas
So there´s this girl named Gaby. She´s the media-ecuatoriana, media-brasileña singer I met and went to see perform a while back, and she´s the younger sister of Titi´s friend Adriana from school in Belgium. I knew she was cool from the get-go, but of course I didn´t see her for a month because I was a dumbass. I´m left trying to make up for lost time. Recently Gaby invited me to her beach house with some friends for 4 days during Semana Santa, about 5 hours north of Quito in Esmeraldas Province, to a place called Castel Nuovo near the popular destination Atacames. It was probably the best weekend I have had here, and did I mention Gaby is amazing? She´s an architect by trade, and while she contemplates going corporate or flying solo with a friend she teaches english to local kids in Quito. And of course she´s tri-lingual. I can hang out with this girl for blocks of like 17 hours at a time and never get bored. Rarely do I find someone with such a uniquely honest and open view of the world. She just gets it, and I dig that. Lately Gaby´s been mi nueva profesora de español and personal guide to some of the best spots in and around the city. We try to speak solo en español but it always deteriorates...

Into the Sweet-Smelling Air de la Costa
I met Gaby at her apartment in the rain at 4am on a thursday morning. Since I barely knew her and didn´t want to be late (I´m a pretty punctual guy) I was about five minutes early. I was somewhat nervous because I had deciphered her text message about bringing sheets and a towel but was still trying to anticipate how I would deal with 4 days of hanging out with local Ecuadorians who, according to Gaby, didn´t speak much english. I completely forgot about Ecuadorian time that morning - fashionably late is a way of life here, and there are even national campaigns to get people to change their ways. But some of her other friends showed up within 20 minutes and soon we were off in two hatch-back cars heading north through the foggy streets of Quito.

Along for the ride in my car were Mónica and her boyfriend Christián. About an hour out of the city the deep, complicated conversations began. Mónica is hilarious. She works in marketing but loves politics, and had all kinds of impossible questions for me about America. How does one answer, for example, ¨tell me Peter, who really controls the CIA?¨ or ¨who was really behind the Kennedy assasination?¨ I laid out some of my personal political views and tried to explain some of today´s divisions between democrat and republican, Bush against the world, etc.



Christián is the mench, the quiet boyfriend, but he has an hilarious (and dirty) sense of humor. I felt for this guy all weekend - he was in pain the whole time and never complained, like when we took him to the hospital one night in Atacames for an allergic reaction on his chest (from eating ceviche con camorones) and he had to get a shot in the nalga (ass), or when dealing with a large gash on the sole of his foot from running on the beach. Christián works crazy hours for a local Quito bank doing some kind of financing type job.

The whole ride was smooth, and we passed through the area around Mindo at sunrise in that picturesque rolling mist. I brought my iPod and we rotated between my music, some Brasilian tunes, and Ecuadorian bands. As we made our descent to sea level the change was tangible. It felt damn good to be entering warm weather and everyone´s clothes starting coming off.

The Afro-Ecuadorians
About 10% of Ecuador´s population is Afro-Ecuadorian, a segment I knew nothing about before coming here. Most of the blacks live in Esmeraldas province, Valle de Chota and Imbabura, or in Guayacil down south. Local legend, which I haven´t fully confirmed but is an awesome story, postulates that a slave ship heading down the coast of Ecuador in the 1500´s (during colonial Spanish rule) ran aground. The survivors of the shipwreck escaped to this northwest coastal province (Esmeraldas) and settled here permanently, some eventually spreading to other parts of the country. They still make up about 75% of the population of Esmeraldas.

Not all of the country´s blacks are descendants of these escaped slaves, but the majority are, and their settlements became the basis for modern Afro-Ecuadorian culture. Many of the most famous national futbol players come from the black community, like Augustin Delgado who I met in Ibarra by chance. The afro-ecuatorian community is famous for their local traditions and fantastic marimba music, although blacks continue to be heavily discriminated against throughout the country and most live in poverty.

Llanta Problems in Paradise
Esmeraldas is terribly poor, but it is that kind of hidden, unadulterated and undiscovered coastal area everyone dreams of finding to build a dream house. Gaby has been coming to Castel Nuovo her whole life because her father bought a place 30 years ago. Marriot and Sheraton have not yet arrived, but already you can see the changes coming. Where there were 3 hotels there are now 6, and where there was nothing but beach and swamp there are small developments and condos springing up. I romanticize it´s like rolling into Malibu or Cape Town cerca 1940.

Still, the highway is in terrible condition and the signs even worse, some hanging sideways from their posts. The road was pot-holed enough to stop us dead in our tracks with a flat about 20 minutes from our beach. Christián and I sprang to action to change the tire like proper tough guys trying to impress the ladies. We loosened the steaming hot bolts and began jacking up the car. That´s when I first met Richie, who likewise sprang from our companion car to assist like a cheetah. In a flash he had taken over as manager of the project, working to change the tire with a speed and determination difficult to describe, almost unnecessary until I learned throughout the weekend that he was equally dedicated and efficient in all his activities. In under 10 minutes we were done, wiping our hands off in the hot dirt and gravel. Grease-stained, fatigued, parched, and sweating through our shirts, we rumbled up to Gaby´s beach house around 9am, a stone´s throw from the surf.

Gaby kept warning me that the house was really ¨old.¨ This is true, but it was perfect. There were 8 beds, a kitchen, a bathroom, a common room, and a balcony. What more do you need?

The Unimaginable Softness
The beach was a little slice of perfection. We laid out all day (I´m still peeling), and braked from swimming and chilling out only to holler for vendors or head to several restaurants down the block. The choices on the beach were extensive: ceviche (I had ceviche de camerones o concha o mixto todos los días), Pilsner beers, pan de yuca, fresh coconuts, jugo de coca o toranja. For luch it was usually calamari or shrimp, sometimes crabs, and the encocadas (coconut curries) were delectable. I finally understand why Quiteños start swooning in their chairs at the first mention of la comida de la costa.

What strikes you immediately is how laid back and nice the locals are (I guess it is the beach). My favorite thing on the beach was hanging out at the ceviche cart eating our ceviche and popcorn with cold beers, shooting the shit with the vendors. This one woman was so nice. The kid who worked for her forgot to give me my change. About 2 hours later I went to ask for it. She gave me more than she owed and when I protested she just said pay me later. At the restaurants or on the beach it was totally normal to see the children running the show - serving, clearing, and ringing up the bill.

Each night we hit the nearby beach towns of Atacames and Tonsupa (once to take Christián to the emergency room, which only cost $15 and takes 15 minutes). Atacames reminded me of a place called Au Nang in southern Thailand. Essentially there is a line of clubs and karaoke bars along the oceanfront with beach bars and countless vendors selling bracelets and souvenirs and hena tattoos and assorted grilled treats like choclo (barbecued Andean corn) with shredded cheese. You sit at the bar or in carved wooden chairs with your feet in the sand, sipping cheap piña coladas adorned with massive fruit crowns. I also got some quality slasa time in on the dance floor and late night on the beach (thank you Maña, ¨normal¨ was my crutch). Mónica and Gaby are good teachers, and the guys grew up with it of course. What´s more, this ain´t no Ocean Shitty, MD; you can drink and dance on the beach until the sun comes up without interruption or a ticket.

Needless to say nobody slept much. It felt like I woke up at 4am one morning and slept 4 hours in 4 nights. These kids were so much fun.

If we weren´t dancing or dining or on the beach, I was learning to play cuarente (Quito card game), being taught dirty phrases in Spanish, or watching the madness that is 7 close friends in a beach house.

Hanging out with all Ecuadorians is perhaps the only true way to pick up all those little cultural differences and uniquities, and to learn how to curse and holler at women properly. Muy sexy. Gaby even taught me future tense on the road.

Richie is the man. He´s a freelance graphic designer now, after working as a lab technician for a decade. He speaks french, and in his thirties he still parties like an 18 year old, always drinking, rocking the Hollister or Abercrombie gear, and taking incredible, artsy photographs. Richie is clearly a successful person because of his general attitude and the speed with which he approaches tasks. Everything from helping change the tire to coming up with solutions when the entire beach community lost water for the final 2 days of our trip...He´s also a damn good chef.

Adela is Gaby´s friend from childhood. I met her the first time I went to see Gaby´s Brasilian band play. Adela is one of the girls who spent some time in the States as well; her aunt actually lives in Bethesda. Adela works in Quito in some kind of stock exchange job. She said she saw me once on the street but didn´t bother to say anything. I told her I would have sprinted across traffic just to say hello, which is probably true. This girl is georgeous and so shy. Her English is virtually flawless but she´s too timid to speak, and so our running joke all weekend was that I was always trying to get her to say something in English if I could catch her off-guard. Adela is also the first Quiteña I´ve met who can recite the She´ma. She´s a Christian Evangelical and seems to know a lot about The Tribe which is cool, although reading the bible at the beach just doesn´t seem that relaxing to me. Evangelicals, Pentacostals, Mormons - these are among the fastest growing religious groups in Latin America.

Gaby´s sister Adriana, who is studying in Lleuven with Titi, showed up on day two. She was supercool and very interesting to speak with given my interests. She is getting her masters in International Relations/Peace Studies after already obtaining a law degree in Quito. She was also a lot of fun; like everyone else she loves to sing and dance and joke around. I´ve never seen someone move their feet so fast, dancing in the sand.

Jessica is half-Italian and very good at languages. She wakes up at 4:30am every day to run, and this sense of discipline is evident in her overall personality. She works for PetroBras, the Brazilian energy giant, which is a fantastic job, and so she is currently mastering Portuguese as well. She tried to counsel me with my law school decisions.


Half the crowd left Sunday to get back to Quito for work. Gaby, Mónica, Christián and I stuck around to soak up another day. We set out along the coast in search of a new beach nobody had been to. In the end we decided to spend the day in Müisne, a beautiful, empty stretch of beach on an inter-coastal strip of land only reachable by longtail boat.

For $5 we hired a moto-rickshaw to drive us up and down the beach all morning. We lounged in shallow pools in the sand or in the currents of the inter-coastal passage, watching the sand crabs speed along under endangered mangroves.



The excitement came when the moto-rickshaw caught a flat tire on the way back to town on the beach. The solution was a quick call to the guide´s cousin of course, who promptly showed up with two motorcycles. Let me tell you, riding 8okm an hour on that uneven, deserted sand beach was both exhilarating and frightening. We were cracking up when the motorcycle started coughing as well, but there was just enough gas remaining to carry us to an oceanfront crab feast. If it had died, we likely would have had to jump on horseback for the final leg.


Just an interesting side-note: the local guys had no idea where I was from. They certainly did not believe I was from he States. And it wasn´t just my badass tan, although I am enjoying looking that much more moreño. Americans are still pictured as blue-eyed and blond-haired Europeans. Wouldn´t it be great if they could catch a glimpse of Miami, South Central LA, or NYC?

Digging Deep
About two years ago, when I returned from six months of travel in Asia, Eastern Europe and Southern Africa, I sat drinking in a bar with friends in VA. My friend Britney Myers asked me not what my favorite place was or my finest memory; rather, she asked me what was the deepest lesson I learned while traveling through so many different countries. My answer took a while, perhaps one or two pitchers of beer, but I told her that the most meaningful lesson I took from traveling was that I met some of the happiest people in the world in the poorest places.

My latest trip to Esmeraldas reinforced that conclusion. It´s the heart of the afro-ecuatorian community and they are unbelievably poor and often made to feel inferior to the rest of the population. Here you´ll find dirt roads, banana plantations, ramshackle houses, shoeless children as salesmen on the beach. Yet there is no evidence of suffering; no resentment nor anger. Locals go out of their way to help you or just love to shoot the breeze. Most of all I firmly believe that the people here are happier than the rest of us. They literally dance in the streets, in doorways of stores or gas stations or the ceviche stand by the sea, any time of day. And they´re all smiles. And so I believe poverty has nothing to do with being happy.

¨The bottom of the world is gold and the world is upside down.¨

Interesting Times

Avenida Amazonas, Quito

Today´s Election
Raphael Correa is Ecuador´s 8th president in 10 years. As you can imagine, the people don´t have too much faith in their leadership. Today´s vote on whether or not to install a constitutional assembly with the authority to alter the country´s constitution (bypassing the congress, which many see as corrupt) is a big deal here. Correa looks poised for a landslide victory as I write. Correa´s opponents have been comparing him to Chavez to try to scare people into voting ¨no,¨ but he maintains a 70% approval rating. I think the comparison is an effective exaggeration. My friend actually had Correa as her economics professor a few years back and said he was really a wonderful man. I guess we´ll see. By changing the constitution he will strip power from the congress and gain more executive power for himself to make changes. It´s not clear exactly what this means or how far he´ll attempt to go, but he says the goal is to decentralize power out of the hands of a corrupt congress. He´s marginalizing the major business influences (the rich) as well as the mafia in this effort, and a lot of people think he may get killed for it.

In a controversial move a few weeks ago Correa fired over 50 congressmen who tried to block the election move, and street supporters physically beat the fired politicians who tried to reenter their offices after the move was ruled illegal by the courts. I´ve heard several people including my professor half-joke that the CIA is also probably trying to intervene and prevent a change in the status quo. Ecuador is a country with barely any middle class, and obviously the rich control almost all of the wealth.

Beit Chabad
Nicole and I found our way to the Chabad House for the first night of passover. I guess you could say it went pretty much as expected. There were perhaps 30 guests, most Israeli and hardly any locals. All the men idled around the living room exchanging smiles and salutations, and the women and young girls slaved away in the kitchen. There was even the classic old woman matriarch stirring the soup. I made the immediate mistake of attempting to shake hands with the rabbi´s wife. In a country where kisses are the norm it is even harder to fathom that I´m not allowed to touch her. No matter, they were unbelievably welcoming and friendly, even if I struggled to understand the mix of hebrew and spanish.

My arrival was exciting for the rabbi. I was the tenth male present, and was therefore immediately whisked away for pre-dinner prayers as my presence completed the minion. Facing Jerusalem, I prayed between a Frenchman and an Israeli with the Rabbi chanting one thousand miles an hour into our ears. It´s been years since modern hebrew classes in college, but I can follow along just fine. Taking turns reading the Haggadah in hebrew around the table was a bit more difficult, but the Israeli family we sat with were very supportive and told me I read beautifully! I think they were surprised an American read at all. It´s difficult/embarrassing to explain that most mainstream American jews learn the alphabet and how to read but rarely the meaning of the words. It´s like sounding out spanish words but not knowing what you are saying. There was only one local Quito kid, and he struggled to read the same as us.

The seder was loooong. It started around 6:30pm, and Nicole and I cut out early around 12:30am to grab drinks with two new friends Julia (from Hawaii) and Asaf (half Morrocan, half Scottish). The rabbi and his wife thanked us profusely for attending and begged us to return as much as possible, any time. That, my friends, is Chabad. Unfortunately I felt sick from the food for the next couple of days so I´m not sure about my swift return to their table. There were no matzah balls in the soup, but there was matzah direct from Jerusalem, and instead of wine we had grape juice all night.

Julia lives in the colonial city of Cuenca in the south and I may pass through there in a few months. She and I planned to attend the mainstream jewish community seder the next evening, but I was not able to confirm directions or permission to attend (passport info, etc. and $10 was required). Plus it was like a ten or fifteen dollar cab ride way north of Quito central. What a pain in the ass, not exactly the open door you find at Chabad. I took Julia out for Thai food instead. At some point I´ll attend a Friday night service with Tomy Rosenberg.

Such Great Heights

PapaGayo, Machachi

A Perfect Traveler´s Day
It´s getting harder to top the heights I´m reaching. It was a Sunday, and it was supposed to be a chill, easy day. I wasn´t supposed to be celebrating at 5,000 meters, a new personal Ecuadorian record. I had purchased a train ticket to Parque El Boliche for $2, a national park right next to Cotopaxi National Park, one of the highest volcanos in Ecuador. Boliche is the only destination on the train, and you have to take a bus for a half hour from the train terminal to get to a functioning part of the track to start the 3 hour ride (we found out later)! The train is basically for tourists and school trips, and it´s really just a couple single cars on the track that look more like buses. Oh, and you ride on the roof of course. It doesn´t make much sense, I know, but the views are georgeous. I´ve tried to inquire about why Ecuador only has a couple segments of functioning train tracks around the country. 10 years ago, for example, is was possible to take the train from Quito all the way to Guayacil, the port on the southern coast and the business capital. But I guess they have just let things go. My Ecuadorian mom Piedad assured me it was not due to things like the recent war with Peru or any natural disaster.

Oh Dána
I was up early to make the 7am train, and I thought another tourist was following me. She looked about my age and nearly as clueless at 7am on the trolley, a classic start. Within an hour we were friends and set out together for the trip. Dána (pronounced ¨Donna¨) is a wonderful girl from the Czech Republic. She spent part of her education in London (so her Czech accent is negligible) and recently worked in some restaurants there to save money for her South America trip. At home in the Czech Republic she works in her family´s textile machinery parts business. A little sweet-talking to her father and she´s freed up for months at a time to see the world. She told him she´d hunt down some new clients abroad.

Dána is studying in Quito as well but is in Otavalo for a few weeks. She´s been all over the world and is fascinating to talk to about the changes taking place in her area of Eastern Europe. Perhaps the only fault I could gather was her general distaste for art. And apparently her host family´s house here is sick - like they host 5 kids each with their own room in a mansion and have a lounge with a pool table, etc. for parties. I´m definitely inviting myself over.

The train was cool but it hurts your ass to sit on the wooden planks for 3 hours. The crowd on top of the moving vehicle was reminiscent of local Indian buses in Rajasthan, all smiles and legs dangling off the sides. The train was about 80% high school kids on a class trip - and their professor was very friendly and cool with us - the rest were extranjeros like us. It was basically a nice 3 hours to eat munchies, talk, and take pictures of the stunningly beautiful countryside. People passed around chips, juice or 3-liters of coke, and local specialties like sugar cane candies while we barreled through small towns and farmland. There were some mansions in the distance on hilltops overlooking feilds and livestock, and 50 times as many shacks along the tracks. Men weilding machetes and headed for the fields traversed the tracks just ahead or behind us, or children on horseback followed in tow by their traditionally clothed (indiginous) mothers and fathers walked alongside and waved as we passed, the train´s exhaust engulfing their smiles.

When Dána and I arrived in Boliche we were a bit dumfounded of what to do. It is a weekend getaway destination, a place where Ecuadorian families go to enjoy the scenery and picnic. The only building was the small train station with restaurant and a tiny ethnographic museum of some kind across the street. It felt like one of those little train stops in middle-of-nowhere Italy. Beyond that just rolling hills. The only other option was to jump in the back of a few waiting pick-up trucks ($8 per person for foreigners) and head for the adjacent National Park of Cotapaxi - you couldn´t even see the volcano from Boliche. What to do, what to do... The truck takes an hour and a half to reach Cotopaxi which meant by the time we got there we would have to turn around to catch our 2:30pm return train. Plus there´s a $10 park fee at Cotopaxi, and I was only carrying $45. Dana and I were smiling but bored.



How Fortuitous
Then it just happened. Call it traveler´s luck. We spotted a group of tourists behind the train station waiting for a mini-tour bus to show up. Obviously these people had organized a tour that included the morning train ride and more. We spoke with the Israeli tour company owner and guide, Aron, and negotiated a ridiculously cheap price to join them for the ramainder of the day. We even bargained for chocolate cake and and a ride back to Quito. Since Dana and I had a combined $60, and the Cotopaxi entrance fee was $10 each, the two of us paid just $40 for the tour (each pre-registered person had spent $45).

That, my friends, is perfection travel luck - getting the deal but also getting yourself home with not a penny more in your pocket. We now had a long day ahead of us including a trek up the side of Cotopaxi to the refuge for lunch at 4,700 meters, the glacier at 5,000 meters, and then downhill mountain biking from 4,000 meters to end at a nearby lagoon.

Kim
I sat next to an absolutely fascinating woman on the mini-bus right up front next to the crazy driver Ceasar while Aron played Ecuadorian trivia with the passengers further back. Kim is from Alaska but now lives in Antarctica. After years at some boring insurance company and a messy divorce she found a job with a sub-company of a major weapons industry giant like Lockheed or somebody that has the current 10-year contract to conduct research on the American platform base in Antarctica. It makes some sense; she´s from a military background and the several thousand people down there basically live like military. She works as the community´s bank teller but often gets to go on excursions with scientists or attend lectures on their findings concerning climate change, ice caps, animal life, and more. Some things are strange but necessary, like strict dining hall times and just a very routine way of life. For fun they have dances and parties with the nearby New Zealand base, who enjoy more lax rules and allow such things as polar ice cap swimming in your birthday suit. I also learned what it is to get your ¨snow wings¨. Kim only makes like forty grand down there, but it´s free housing, a 5 month job, and no taxes. Plus everyone is routed through New Zealand and constantly arranging sweet fantastic vacations.

Cotopaxi
At the base of Cotopaxi the ground is mysteriously flat. A strange greenish-yellow moss/mushroom mixture covers the earth, one will grow if you put it in water. We took photos of the area and and our guide Aron explained our surroundings, the very real altitude dangers, and finally about how Cotopaxi is active and if it erupts it will cause the evacuation of about 300,000 people in the red zone. They have predicted a large eruption 130 years after the last one, which was in 1877. It was getting cold, luckily I had my hat and bought some gloves to match in the park.

The trek to the refuge at 4,700 meters appears misleadingly easy considering we parked the bus at about 4,000 meters. You can see the small yellow-roofed building like it is right in front of you, and if it were flat and at sea level it might take 5 minutes to reach. It took us 45 min to an hour, zigzagging to conserve energy. At the refuge we sat down to long wooden tables and everyone helped lay out plates of sandwiches, tuna, guacamole, chips, cheese, and hot tea. Upstairs in the refuge more serious climbers with other groups were preparing their cots to turn in at 4pm and awake at midnight to start their 7 hour ascent to the top of the volcano. Some practiced on the glacier nearby, learning how to use there ice picks and spiked boots properly. It´s like $200, but I think I want to try before I come home.

The rest of us sat around congratulating eachother for a solid one-hour hike and then took off for the glacier another half hour above. The view when the clowds actually cleared for ten minutes at a time was spectacular. You are up above most of the clouds, glimpsing the snow-covered peak, then the green surroundings below and two other volcanoes in the distance. A wild cayote followed us up the mountain and made for a nice photograph.

After our descent out came the bikes, and let me tell you it is not easy to do do downhill mountain biking. Forget the location or altitude. The shock your body takes in the legs and handlebars leaves you numb, and you start to hate uneven ground. It´s smart but difficult to keep your limbs and body relaxed for each of the million small impacts. I was exhausted and by the time I reached the lagoon in the hills below I was ready to crash. Our busride entertainment all the way home, after a stop at Aron´s beautiful hostel called PapaGayo (for cake and tea) was a fitting Disney flick called 8 Below about an American base-station in Antarctica with snowdogs.

New Euro Crew
Of course my night did not end there. With a new group of friends from the trip we hit the bars in La Mariscal and I wracked up a nice little debt with my empty pocketbook. I now have a solid group of pub-buddies I know I can find any hour of the day at a certain bar. We get drunk on $1 Pilsners, trade gobsmacking witty banter about cutlery and lashes of things and other such British nonsense, and then go clubbing. The crowd at our table always shrinks and grows depending on new travelers and friends lost and gone forever, but Aaron (English), Charlie (English), and Michele (Swiss) are solid and around for a few weeks more. They are all about 22. Aaron is from Portsmith, very intelligent, and always has a good story. Charlie is from London and dead sexy. She wrote her email address across my back at the club last night, and I learn a lot of new English words from her. Michele is from Basel and smokes too much weed and responds to every question with a big smile and an ¨of course!¨ He plans to start an import-export business with dried fruit between Columbia and Zurich.

That´s about all for now. Next time I´ll talk a bit about Semana Santa, how I completed the minion at the Chabad House for Passover, and my incredible 4 days at Gaby´s beach house in Esmeraldas province this past weekend.