¡Feliz Navidad y Prospero Año! (Vacacion Parte Dos)

Five thousand three hundred and ninety-three kilometres away. My first Christmas abroad and I was 5,393 km separated from home, that is to say, the way the crow flies.

Vacation Part One left off with Samir's departure, and Part Two began with the arrival of slipping into Christmas elf mode. Big grocery trips for imminent feasts, hours spent toiling in my toy workshop making stocking stuffers for roomates. During the holidays, Cuenca is lavishly, if not garrishly decorated. Take, for example, the "tasteful" display of the grotesquely large Mary and Joseph in the park near our apartment...Giant, sparkly robot invaders from the planet Zorblot, more like. However, for my Canadian eyes, Ecuador was missing the most important accessory of all: snow.



The current state of our environment may eventually lead to our earth's destruction, but the heartbreak will start when global warming takes away Christmas snow.

Despite this brief lament, my inaugural Christmas abroad was, while foreign from the outside (no snow, no fresh piney-scented Christmas trees, no parents, etc.), it was familiar and perfect on this inside: warm, loving, excited, united, gracious.

I am a lucky person in that I seem to be blessed with finding and keeping wonderful friends wherever I go. Cuenca is no exception, and armed with the wonderful crew I have bonded with here, we faced our foreign Christmas as a family, and had an amazing time doing it.


Christmas morning was amazing, and we all opened stockings filled with thoughtful homemade goodies created by one another. I was doubly endowed as my mum had sent a stuffed stocking via Samir-mail for me to open on Christmas morning. It is worth mentioning that this stocking was obscenely huge and mortifyingly festive, outrageous to the point that I was not permitted to hang it on my top bunk for the days leading up to Christmas, Cor fearing that it would perhaps stretch out a crushed red velvet, bell-tipped, curlicued toe and strangle her in the night...

The celebratory feast that night was hectic in preparation (four households sharing the ONE oven between us, conveniently, in OUR apartment), but sooo worth it and delicious. Stuffed peppers, a gingerbread house, roasted nuts, cider, pumpkin pie, and, la pièce de resistance, a tofurkey! Another meal for the books, and likely, another pound to the scales...

The holiday wound down in standard fashion, with laughter and food hangovers. Within a few days, I was travelling again, this time with Cor, to spend our last week before teaching in an incredible mecca for adventure: Baños.


Baños, roughly seven hours north of Cuenca, is likely the thrill capital of Ecuador. It is THE place to go for any kind of adventure sport, from the mild (glorious hikes) to the wild (scaling waterfalls). During our five days there, Cor and I engaged in a range of these activities, punctuated by a couple of nights out partying with locals and international tourists.

On our first day there, we hiked the few thousand feet to a lookout point to the Volcán Tungurahua. This is one of a few active volcanoes in Ecuador, and it erupts nearly everyday in the form of mild (yet still visible) spewings of smoke and ash. Recent predictions, however, warn that the volcano is gearing up for a more substantial eruption, and since Cor and I's visit, several surrounding villages in the area have been evacuated. Not to worry though, back home in Cuenca, we enjoy a good 400km or so as a buffer between us and the increasingly angry fires of Tungurahua.


Our next big expedition was a giant bike ride along the "Ruta de Las Cascadas" or, the "Route of the Waterfalls". This is one of my favourite things I've done in Ecuador so far. The ride is mostly downhill on fairly decent roads, and you can't help but feel overwhelmingly, deliciously free while whipping across Andean ridges, fresh wind yielding to the speed of the bike. And all along, impossibly beautiful views of towering, lush green mountains. In such settings, I am always overcome by a feeling of being physically very small, but spiritually, immense

Throughout the bike ride there are points to stop at various waterfalls, some of which you take cable cars across giant gorges to view, other require moderate little hikes through jungle-like trails and suspension bridges. As if the biking and the mountains and the waterfalls were not enough, Cor and I decided to turn up the notch a bit and do something that neither of us had anticipated.




That is, we jumped off a bridge.

Specifically, we did something akin to bungee jumping, except in Ecuador, they don't use bungee cord, they just use rope. Basically, we jumped off a bridge on a rope. We screamed a lot. The best part (as well as the deciding factor) was that Cor and I were permitted to go at the same time, thus we were harnessed, helmetted, and strapped together, and after a few false starts ("1...2--WAIT!! I'm not ready to do this!! Were you gonna jump just then?? Can't we wait??! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!!...ok, you can count us down again..."), we did it. Verbal description doesn't do the experience justice, but in a nutshell, we jumped, screamed embarrassingly loudly, cursing like pirates, swung around like a pendulum in various compromising positions (one of the better ones being Cor curled up like an overgrown baby in my arms, as my legs flailed aimlessly below me), and then we were pulled ungracefully back to our landing spot. We finished the rest of our bike ride on a permanent high. At the end of our route, in typically fine Ecuadorian form, we hitched a ride on the back seat of a pick-up truck with our bikes to back track the 40 km we had biked from Baños.



New Year's Eve night was also an adventure. South America has a phenomenal tradition on this symbolic night that involves burning effigies made of fibre-stuffed clothing adorned with a lumpy head and a creepy looking mask. These effigies are strapped on to cars and store fronts during the day and are lit on fire, often being piled in a communal pyre in the middle of a city street somewhere around midnight. Cor and I participated by doing our own little effigy ceremony, but we also celebrated North American-style by doing shots of tequila.




















The next day was a write-off. Obviously.


The day we left, we had to squeeze in just one last adventure before our night bus back to Cuenca, so we decided to go white water rafting. The rafting was done on level 3-4 rapids (the scale being 1-6), so while there were no hundred-feet drops into rushing torrents of water, there were a few moments when I thought I might pee my wetsuit. Our guide, Xavier, was excellent and impressive with his precise navigation of the rapids, and he only pushed us overboard twice. For our own good, of course.


Upon our return, Cuenca appeared like a tranquil metropolitan. Where's the danger? Where's the fun?? I got my answer when I was assigned an over-registered class of early beginner level children. And I thought jumping off a bridge was scary...

Coasting on the Coast (Vacacion Parte Uno)

Vacations are bittersweet. They have a funny way of twisting the vacater into believing that sleeping in everyday is normal, that reading a good book is the most strenuous activity one should partake in. Ever. The longer you have to settle into this mindset, the more difficult it is to rouse yourself out of this luxurious sedation when it comes time.

My vacation was five weeks. I will spare you the details of the depth and breadth of my resentment towards going back to work.

Last day of classes were on November 30th. My first semester of teaching went extremely well, and although the term was sprinkled with a few challenging students, a handful of boring lessons, and a couple of jokes that flopped in class (bruising my teacher-come-comedian ego), in general the kids were bright, the class discussions were candid, and I did manage to get a couple of laughs from my students, believe it or not.

I spent the first few days of my break just hanging out with my apartment mates, occasionally breaking to read by the river in front of our complex. On December 4th, my friend Samir arrived from Toronto, who came to visit for just over two weeks. Having been to Ecuador before, Samir was able to create a wonderful little itinerary for us as we pueblo-hopped from town to town along the "Ruta del Sol". The Route of the Sun is basically just a line-up of coastal cities that tourists can go to to get some sun on their skin, some sand in their swim trunks, and some excellent surfing conditions.

Guayaquil was our first destination after leaving Cuenca. We only stayed there one night because neither of us particularly like the city, so it was really more of a stopping point . Guayaquil is the biggest city in Ecuador, hosting about 6 million citizens, mostly in sprawling slums. It is a port city, and rather lives up to its reputation by being fairly rough and hostile. I have a fairly negative view of the place, but take it with a grain of salt as I haven't spent a lot of time there to really educate my opinion. To its justice, some parts of the city are pretty nice and there are tons of things to do. Samir and I went to the Museo Antropologico y de Arte Contemporaneo and saw one of the best modern art exhibits I've seen in my life. Guayaquil is known as being "the bad seed of Ecuador", but it adds some spice.

The next stop was a tiny pueblito named "Ballenita", which actually means "little whale"...But then again, "burrito" means "little donkey" so direct translations don't always make the most sense. To my knowledge, there are no miniature whales in Ballenita. Samir and I stayed at a beautiful hotel called Farallon Dillon, which is really more of a nautical museum than a hotel. Every corner is filled with some kind of marine treasure, and the place is run by a retired sea captain (who looks suspiciously like Captain Highliner, Mascot of the Frozen Fish Sticks). It was in Ballenita that I learned to embrace the white noise lulling of waves crashing on the surf as I fell asleep every night. Oh, and did I mention our room was located at the top of a refurbished lighthouse???

After little whale came little mountain, or Montañita. Being a town of barely a few square kilometres big, it boasts more action than a lot of Ecuador put together. Well, tourist action anyway. I would say about 80% of the centre's population is made up of turistas, who come from all over the globe for surfing and partying. The tides in Montañita are crazy and the surfing is supposed to be amazing. Being more of a blue corn 'n crunchy granola than Blue Crush, I spent my time absorbing the hippy-in-a-hammock culture rather than balancing on a board. I did my mother proud and went for long walks on the beach, filling my pockets with smooth rocks and seashells, just as my mum does everytime we go on vacation to the maritime beaches. I found some good ones, Mum!

Ayampe was next and, had it not been for a few remarkable exceptions, this stop would've been a bit of a bust. Firstly, the beach was awesome. Montañita's currents were insane and swimming there was more like wrestling for your life against Mr.T, in water form. I pity the fool who gets pulled under. In Ayampe, the waves were still a force to be reckoned with, but in a manageable, fun way. Kind of like the difference between being involved in an all-out fight-till-death ultimate battle of brawn versus playing fisticuffs with a younger sibling.
The other exception was that a neighbouring hostal (Cabañas de La Tortuga) had a fantastic vegetarian restaurant run by an even more fantastic man named Galban. Now, if Samir is reading this, his heart with have probably started fluttering furiously because he loved Galban even more than I love, I don't know, tofu. To say Galban's cooking was good would be like saying Mr. Clean has a receding hairline. Large understatement. Perfectly seasoned and beautifully presented, humble Galban fed us four meals that I will literally remember for the rest of my life. One of my favourite parts was seeing him dash around his back garden gathering fresh herbs and produce after taking our order, then seeing them on our plates half an hour later. Fresh fish, flavourful little domes of garlic rice, lemoney-herby salads, and crunchy patacones (plantain fritters). Not only was he a spatula-weilding God, but he was also ridiculously friendly and fun to talk to. Before I start drooling on the keyboard, let's move on...

...To a wonderful ecological resort named Alandaluz in Puerto Rico. Alandaluz was built and is run on self-sustaining, evoronmentally friendly principles which makes my green green heart happy, but it was also just a really beautiful place to stay, too. Our room was amazing and had a beach-front, be-hammocked balcony and a fireplace. That's like telling a little kid in an ice cream shop that he can pick two flavours. The beach there was also great, so Samir and I got in some last days of wave wrestling before we left the coast.

Back in Cuenca, I missed the sound of waves. Samir left a few days later and Christmas planning, reunited with my teacher amigos, began with festive fervour...

Dear Santa, Please send me an ebb-and-flowing tide to roar outside my window, and one Galban, spatula at the ready...