Sugar burns really easily.

There has been an ongoing drama in my host family about a steel pot.

I wasn't home when the incident itself happened, but since then I have heard again and again how Mélida was making those strawberries that Rosie dropped off into jam and then she left the room and before she knows it the landlady is at the door and says to us that something is burning and Mélida rushes into the kitchen and Díos mío the place is full of smoke so she superquickly turned off the stove and ran out of the room and don't you smell the burning still and look how this pot is coated in black now!

The first step in the drawn-out pan saga was soaking in dish soap. Minimal improvement. Then buying steel wool and scouring, which took the stuff off the rim but not the base. Then, last weekend, I walked into the kitchen and found the empty damaged pot on the stove, high heat, absolutely empty. It stayed that way for hours, and Mélida proudly showed me that it made the soot loosen right up. Whaddya know??

Photos: trip to the Amazon

I got bit by ants next to this tree. My knee still stings sometimes, a full three weeks later.

Ardito, one of our guides. He's gonna come visit us in Quito.

To walk to the bathroom, you had to cross this little bridge. As someone said, it brings new meaning to "don't fall in!"

Bathing in the waterfall

We are standing in front of two tree roots. They're huge--you can bang on them with a stick to communicate long distances in the forest.

Sweet plant. I wonder if it's supposed to look like a bird?

Riverbed. This is the walking path of the god of water, who only walks at night because he's super solitary.

Is lead paint illegal in places other than the US?

Part of my master plan to lead a healthy life and grab each day by the whatevers involves going to the gym before class in the mornings. So far I've done it twice!

On Tuesday morning, I was walking to the gym at Hotel Quito, just a block away from my building, when I got that "something is in my left eye" sensation, which was promptly followed by a "something is in my right eye" sensation. There were little blue and gray flakes all over the ground. What's going on? I looked up to see more of these flakes falling from the sky, and a looming building that was blue on top but a dirty gray color starting about 30 feet below the building's top floor. And there were some dudes in a window washing cart. Oh, they're chipping paint! And it's falling straight onto the sidewalk. Oh, Ecuador! I took the paint out of my eye in the Hotel Quito bathroom and did 20 minutes of cardio.

Of parasites and The Beatles

North Americans visiting Ecuador often have problems with bacterial infections or parasites because their immune systems don't have the same defenses as native Ecuadorians. Teo spent his third day in the country hugging a toilet seat, and three weeks ago Elise discovered she was hosting a population of amoebas who had been stealing the nourishment she intended to use herself. Looks like one of those populations is hanging out in my body, too.

Mélida said it must be amoebas. That's what Sóledad said, and Sóledad had a cousin who had them once. I called up Equivida and asked them to make me an appointment at the Clínica Pichincha. Sarah graciously offered to accompany me to the emergency room, so I picked her up from the FLACSO library in a cab and we headed down to the Foch. Our cab driver looked like an Ecuadorian John Lennon. Had anyone ever told him that he looked like John Lennon of los Beatle? No. Must be the glasses.

We had a pretty fun time at the hospital, spying on other peoples' x-ray consultations that were going on right outside my little cubicle (a nun had a twisted knee and we think that fat dude had a broken rib) and learning vocabulary words like "despocisión," "moco," "descartar," "masa," and "heces." The doctor who treated me was very nice and very patient, and I like her because she had trouble asking if I had ever visited a third world country before. She thought for a minute, and then ended up saying "had you ever been to a country in the process of development before Ecuador?" Sarah and I complemented her on her smoothness. ¡Suave!

The tests they did yesterday came out negative, but they said that not every departing vessel carries the little critters, so they ordered un examen seriado that takes place over three days. I just gave my second test to the lab this morning, and hopefully by tomorrow afternoon I'll have a diagnosis of parasites and medication in hand to expell the dudes that are having such a fun time in my digestive system. Until them, I'm imagining them as little blue martians who form Beatles cover bands and rock out to pass the time.

A brief story of a morning that ends in maracuyá juice

Ecuadorian professors are not big fans of syllabi, giving advance notice about canceled classes, or collecting the essays they assign. Coming from a university where every class' syllabus carefully spells out assigned reading, graded work due dates, and anomalies in the schedule, this is a little strange, and ocassionally frustrating.

In the mornings, I walk a block to the nearest bus station and take a 5-minute bus ride to the Universidad Salesiana. Yesterday morning as I walked out of the building, the landlady was having a heated discussion with a tenant on the bottom floor. I never know whether to say "hi" in those situations, so I gave a little "buenos días" and hurried out the door. Before I got to the bus, Polly called to tell me that our class, Comunicación intercultural, had been canceled. Great! I'll organize my lesson plans for English class at Yachay Wasi and catch up on reading. I walk back home, timidly say buenos días once again as I pass the arguing landlady and tenant, unlock the apartment, and set up my work at the dining room table. As soon as my books are open, Elise calls. Class is on, just in a different room. Come to the auditorium. I pack up, head out the door again, make a gesture to the landlady that I hope says "it is a little joke between us that I, the crazy North American girl, keep running in and out of the building this morning!" and catch a bus to the university.

When I get there, it turns out that there are many, many Salesiana students packed into a forum at which our professor is speaking. It's about New Orleans in July temperature in the auditorio, there are no seats left, and I have no idea what is going on, so I leave with Polly and Elise. Getting empanadas and jugo at Fanesca is more productive than standing in the back of a sweltering foro. I get a spicy meat empanada and a maracuyá (passionfruit) juice. Sooooo good. Why don't we eat passionfruit in the US?

The first post is the hardest?

Wow, so despite having been in Ecuador for over 8 weeks, this is my first blog post. I feel bad, because I told almost everyone I saw before I left that I would have a blog about being abroad and that I would send them the link. Here's my biggest and most significant excuse for getting such a late start: I was working on a very important essay for my first month here, and I couldn't justify writing blog posts when I should have been writing about community organizing. By the time the paper was finished and sent off, so much time had passed that it seemed impossible to recap everything.

Another reason I haven't been blogging has to do with my previous experience of the "blogosphere." In middle and high school, I had a quasi-blog called a "Livejournal," which served as a place for my angst-filled musings that sound incredibly silly now. I was so self centered, immature, and trivial! And what made me think that the whole world (or just all my friends) would want to read my feelings on a grey-on-grey web layout?

Blogging is a weird medium. It's a place to reflect and digest, to make sense of one's feelings by writing. At the same time, though, it's a public log that shouldn't include a lot of the musings that would end up in a diary or journal. So I feel a bit hesitant about blogging because it's hard to strike a balance between complete divulgence of feelings and dry statement of fact. But having (and writing in!) a blog is a good way to keep people updated, especially far-away people who are important to me. If you're reading this, you're probably one of those people. Hi!

So there's my disclaimer. That said, enjoy my silly musings!