Oh. My. Blog.

We attempted this photo after walking around Machu Picchu all day in the rain, only to find the sun later that afternoon. We had been hiking up stairs and climbing mountains for eight straight hours. Our legs were like jello, but for some reason we thought it was a brilliant idea to put the camera on self-timer, set it on a rock and try to get a "jump" photo at the ruins. I can only hope you find the photos as hilarious as I do.

Go ahead -- cast your vote on the best shot.

Attempt #1

Attempt #2

Attempt #3

Attempt #4

Attempt #5

Attempt #6

Attempt #7

Attempt #8

Attempt #9

That's right, people. We found what Shannen Doherty has been up to on our way to Machu Picchu...

Aguas Caliente, Monday, Jan. 29.
We arrived via train to Aguas Caliente today. It has pretty much rained since we got here. All I have to say is thank the Lord we decided against the 4-day Inca Trail trek. Next stop: Machu Picchu. Taking the bus early tomorrow morning up to the ruins. Awww, yeah.

Oh and this is what Mark ate for dinner. It´s guinea pig. I had the alpacha steak. Tasted like salty minute-steak.

Ollantaytambo: My Very First Ruin, Sunday, Jan 28.
Sunday we hopped another local bus -- two, actually -- and made our way to a tounge-twister of a town called Ollantaytambo (affectionatly dubbed O'Town).

Ok, so the bus rides: Imagine the most crowded subway car you've been on, then multiply it by 10 and pretend it's half the size. It was like a little taste of home in the middle of the Andes... sort of.

O'Town, also in the Sacred Valley, is where Mark and I climbed our first ruin of the trip. That was at 7am this morning. It was cloudy and a bit rainy, but we were the only two up there and the view was completely amazing.

Pisac: Market Madness, Saturday, Jan 27.
Our first stop in the the Sacred Valley was Pisac, a fantastic little town know for its Sunday artisian market. I arrived on Saturday afternoon via local bus (cost $1.50). As we drove into the valley, it appeared as though we were driving through mountains of Hollywood set. The scenery in this town looked faked; it was unspeakably picturesque.

On Sunday, the entire city transformed into one gigantic market. Everything from chessboards to ponchos to flowers were sold. All of the colors, crafts and number of vendors was overwhelming. However, that didn´t stop me from picking up a few gifts: a llama doll, a stuffed animal made of alpaca fur and a couple pairs of earrings. Who will the lucky llama go to?!

Cusco: I [heart] Cusco,
Friday, Jan. 26.
Cusco is by far my favorite place we have visited. It is lively and wild. The gateway to Machu Picchu, the city's arcitecture is a brilliant juxtaposition of Incan origin and Spanish influence. Even though it is the gateway to one of (if not the) most popular tourist destinations in all of South America, it manages to keep its local flair and way-of-life wonderfully intact.

Lima: Kthxbye!, Thursday, Jan. 25.
We were in Lima for all of two hours. This did not disappoint me. Lima in two words: hot, polluted. I'm sure it's really charming if you give it a chance, but I had been on a bus for the past 16 hours at which point nothing was captivating.

Mancora: Tasty, Wednesday, Jan. 24.
Our taste of Northern Peru beaches came in the form of a little town called Mancora. It is a sophisticated surf spot that has become fashionable among international sun ´n sand seekers (like myself ;). The people were cool, the beaches were nice and the cusine...

This was my lunch. It was like $4 at a place on the beach called Sirena's. Those are perfect pillars of mashed potatoes with fresh tuna inside, fried shrimp on top and special sauce surrounding it all. Dee. Lish.

From Mancora, we took a 16-hour bus to Lima. Got to Lima in around 11am and went straight to the airport. By 1:35pm, we were on a flight headed to Cusco. Shazaam!

Currently, we're getting acquainted with Cusco and tomorrow we're off to the Sacred Valley, then Machu Picchu. Somewhere in between Tumbes and here, Mark found the world's smallest bananas.

This happened about a week ago and it´s taken me that long to stop laughing and actually write about it.

During our stay on the beach in Montañita, the mosquitos were vicious. Their stealth tactics ruined two consecutive nights of sleep. On the third night, we decided to fight back.

MacGyver Mark rigged up the most complex mosquito netting (I have it all on film) for his bed. He is an Eagle Scout, you know. I did the best I could with my Swiss Army knife and tape. We staged a full-on crusade against the bugs.

The battle was on.
The lights went off.
And this is what I woke up to the next morning.

Aside from the swollen eyelid, note the crusty calamine lotion on his right bicep, left shoulder and the side of his head.

I tried for about three full minutes not to laugh. Silently sitting on my bed. Shaking. Stifling gasps for air. Mark caught one of my muffled noises, looked at me and gave me a little smile.

I. Lost. It.

For the next 20 minutes, I was CRYING. Tears were streaming down my face.

This will go down as one of the funniest moments in my entire life.

[Cracking up in the computer lab right now.]

p.s. New pix posted for By the Hour: CONFIRMED.

It wasn't until we got to Guayaquil that we realized getting to the jungle in Northern Peru wasn't easy... or cheap.

Reality Check
After spending a day researching and inquiring at travel agencies, we tossed in the towel for getting to the Amazon. It would've required a flight from Guayaquil down to Lima, then up to Iquitos. Then afterwards, another flight from Iquitos to Lima to Cusco for us to continue on the planned itinerary. The flights would´ve cost around $500, plus another $900 for the jungle tour, plus who knows how many mosquito bites*.

After getting this reality check, Mark said, "For that much, we might as well go to the Galapagos." [Cut to the both of us racing to the nearest Galapagos tour agency. We found a good last-minute deal, but it wasn't leaving for another week.]

Plan B: Explore Northern Peru Beaches
Damn, straight! One bus from Guayaquil over the border to Tumbes, Peru, and then another little mini-bus to the small surf-town of Mancora and here we are.

It´s a neat little town, fewer hippies (see image to right) than Montañita and better waves (at the moment). Best part: Our room has hot water -- REAL hot water without wires protruding from the wall. I took my first non-torturous shower in seven days. Pure delight.

*Story coming soon!

Yes, the Delicia Hotel is an hourly hotel in Guayaquil.

The swirling first-night suspicions were confirmed the follow night when Mark (and then I) witnessed of a "couple" checking in... and then out an hour later. We stayed there for two nights for $29. Total. If you ask me, we got a good deal.

An "Authentic" Experience
Imagine visiting New York City for the first time in your life and checking into a hotel on East Broadway near Canal Street. Then, you stay there for a few days to get a "taste" of NYC. That is what you generate your entire New York perspective on. That pretty much sums our stay in Guayaquil. Authentic? Absolutely.



Most Memorable Moments
- Arriving
- Getting into my first fight with Mark
- Realizing our hotel was hourly
- Discovering none of our stuff was stolen everytime we returned to the room
- Leaving

Here is a feast of photos to round out the first part of the trip. A few polaroid moments sum up the past three weeks abroad...

Rockin' Out
Chilling in the hammock of our crashpad (Casa Blanca Bungalows).

(Montañita, Ecuador)

How We Roll
This is the family and me enroute to the bus station in Manta. Photo courtesy of Mark who got to ride in the front seat.

(Manta, Ecuador)

Booze Bag
Gnomar boozing it up poolside. Total lush.

(Montañita, Ecuador)

Sweet Sunset
No, it didn´t suck at all.

(Montañita, Ecuador)

The Crowds of Manta
The is what a typical day on the sand looked like. Eek! But the beers were like $1.

(Manta, Ecuador)

Fave Beach
Around this bend of boats is a sweet stretch of rocks and sand. This is where I had my own private dance party (iPod-ed it) when the guys were surfing.

(San Mateo, Ecuacor)

A Family Affair
During our stay the fam had a huge party for relatives that were visiting. I convinced them to let me make mojitos. Oh. Yes.

(Manta, Ecuador)

Breaking News!
Well, we made it to Guayaquil. However, there is speculation that the hotel we´re staying at, in what seems to be the Harlem of Guayaquil, rents rooms by the hour. No hard evidence yet (heeheehee), but a couple of -- err -- "guests" have been spotted "checking in" and "checking out" without luggage and with lady-friends. More to come as the situation at the Delicia Hotel develops...

Caliente!
This is Mark working. Can you believe it? Tough job. Here he is with his Ecuadorian model, Alexendrea, on the deck of Montanita Hotel.

I was working, too! On my... umm... tan.

Well, we did it: We found the place where every friggin´ hippy in South America (and beyond) comes to in Ecuador. The patchouly oil is plentiful, the ganja is abundant and the incense is contstantly burning. I´d hate this place if it wasn´t for the perfect beaches, hot people* and the aforementioned bud.

Top 5 Things Found in Montañita:
- Dreads
- Drugs
- Booze
- Braids
- Waves

The place we´re staying at has what my brother-in-law likes to call a "suicide shower." In the shower, there are two wires coming out of the wall. Those two wires are connected (and wound with electrical tape) to the shower head. Apparently, that´s what creates the hot water.

Exposed wires + shower + water = I may not bathe for the next three days.
Mark already got shocked twice.


*This, naturally, excludes all hippies.

The Stats for Manta
Days stayed: 14 days
Waves caught: 11
Total wipeouts: 23
Spanish words learned: 117
Money lost at the casino: $35
Number of time my bike broke: 2
Chased by a dog while on my bike: 4
Number of conversations had in Spanish: 63
Number of conversations had in Spanish actually understood: 17

Hard to believe it's already been nearly three weeks. I'm also dumbfounded that my Spanish actually sounds like Spanish. Well, sort of.

Manta was great, but we are ready to rock it to the next spot: Montañita, a little surf 'n party town a bit south of here. It's a little graduation present to ourselves. [sarcasm] Really looking forward to tomorrow's four-hour bus ride. [/sarcasm]

Ok, this is the last kid picture. I promise. It's too cute not to share. Plus, no more niños after today! At least... umm... none are expected.

No, Mom. None.

There are many ongoing themes on this trip. Let´s call this one the "Mark! Get out of my shot!"

The boy has a knack for jumping into the frame everytime as I´m fliming or taking a photo. It was funny... the first 10 times. Here he is caught in the act.

p.s. Hey Dad, what do you think of those sharks?

Pure Satan Pedigree
There is a patio on the second floor of our house. Ok, so it´s actually the roof, but it´s great to sit outside people-watch or study on. It would be very peaceful except every damn time I go out there, this freakin´ hell-dog comes tearing around the corner and tries to attack me. I have to sit close to the door so I can scramble inside when it decides unleash Napoleon-complex fury.

I like dogs, but am seriously considering giving the perro one swift kick over edge.


Can I Getta...
Found in each and every part of the house. And if you were wondering, yes -- that is a glow-in-the-dark statue of the Virgin Mary. It´s in my bedroom. Can I getta AMEN?

Carlito and Mateo
I can´t deny it:
They love me.
Carlito blows me kisses.
Mateo, well... Mateo drools on and tries to headbutt me. Signs of affection, no?
Just to be clear, it´s not like I´m trying to compete with exisiting, adorable children blogs. I just want to brag about how cute my housemates are.

Mark and I bought Carlito foam animal cutouts at the store around the corner yesterday. I think they´re for the bathtub? He absolutely loves them (and Gnomar, too). Actually, he loves throwing them at me and really gets a kick out of me flicking them off the table (I´ve never seen a child laugh so hard). Anyway, it works out great because he´s learning the different animals in Spanish, and... so am I. Oink-oink, mooooo, balk-balk -- we know them all.
Lastly, the boys have fantastic taste in electronics -- always grabbing for my digital and/or video camera or ipod (eek!). I am teaching them how to compose a shot.

Oh, and Mom, before you even ask, the answer is NO. You cannot have them.

Yesterday
My piece o´shit bicycle broke when I was riding home from the beach yesterday.
No, I´m not kidding.

The chain snapped like a rubberband when I was peddling uphill. I had to walk all the way home... and the pedal kept scratching the back of my leg. Grrr...

Today
Magic elves came and fixed the chain on my bike! I left it outside (kind of hoping it would get stolen) with its busted chain last night. I woke up this morning and there is was -- sparkling (sorta of) and fully functioning!

Mi Madre
Is awesome. Unbeknownst to me, she took my bike to the motorcycle mechanic two blocks away (I don´t even know when). The dude fixed it for 50 cents. FIFTY CENTS. Bicycle is repaired. Woot!

Susanna, mi madre, is like an elf, herself. I never see her eat or sleep or cook or clean, yet when I walk in the door there is always food on the table. My bed gets made and the house is always supremely clean. I cannot find any trace of illegal substances, so my conclusion is that she either has an invisible staff... or uses voodoo magic.

Or so I thought.

Allow me to back up...

Everyone has something to peddle on the beach -- sailboats in a bottle, fried fish, candy, coconut water, cervaza -- you name it, someone's selling it.

Throughout the day, vendors walk along the beach pushing their goods to the sun-soaking crowds. Though it can be annoying at times, it´s not untolerable and actually, it´s quite convienent (read: a large cold beer for 50 cents... without getting up).

Scene: Me lying in a beach chair watching the ongoings of the ocean and its visitors floundering within. Vendors were walking by witout notice. Then, I saw a 40-something-year old woman flashing beach-goers a photo flip-book filled with pictures of little girls ranging in age from about six to 12. I nearly fell out of my seat. W.T.F.

Immediate thoughts:
- OMG. They really do sell children here.
- Does Angelina have one of these?
- That kid looks kinda of old. Aren´t infants top-sellers?
- Those girls in the photos have sweet braids.
- Does my mom really want grandkids that bad?

My mind raced for the next hour. I was dying to ask what the photo album was about, but for obvious reasons, I just... couldn´t.

Another 40 minutes went by.

Then, I saw the child peddler (CP) walk through my view once again. This time, a family of five (two girls, one boy, mom, dad) stopped her.

OMG. This is actually happening.

After witnessing a heated two minutes of price negotiations, the woman with the photos sat down with the family. My Spanish isn´t primo yet, but I think they settled on a price of $4.

I´m mortified.

At this point I´m at the edge of my chair blatantly staring at the exchange. The CP, still sitting with the family, whips out a brush and starts grooming one of the girls´ hair. Then, she begins braiding it and...

Then, I felt like the biggest jackass on the planet.

Wake: 6am
Surf: 7am-9am
Class: 10am-2pm
Tan time: 3pm

Now, we´re a 15-minute walk from the beach and it was fine for the first couple of days, but got old real quick. So, we decided it´d be a good idea to buy bikes. We could speed up the commute and clock in a few extra minutes on tan-- err... surfing time this way, right?

I´m not even sure where to begin with the entire experience, but just know that it involved a trip to the shadiest part of town, Susanna (mom) negotiating for us gringos, $100 dollars, two cheap-ass-made-in-China bicycles and four 10-year-olds assembling them around the corner.

The entire ordeal took about two hours... and I´m still trying to process it all. The wheels on the bikes go round and round... and take us to where we need to go. 'Nuff said.

Meet my new familia: The Escovars.

From the left to the right, that is Carlito, Susanna (daughter) and Susanna (mom). No, that is not a typo. That is both of their names. It took me three days to figure it out.

I have conversations on the regular with the Susannas. What we talk about is always news to me since I basically blurt out the words I learned in class that day and try to assemble sentences. They usually laugh, correct me and then give me a plate of food. The first thing I had to learn how to say was, "Thank you, but no more food, please."

This is our house. It´s one of the sweetest ones on the block. Mark lives next door with the grandma, but the houses are connected (it´s one big family). We´re a few blocks from school and about a 15 minute walk to the beach.

No complaints: we have great digs, cute kids and lots of food.

I thought New Year's Eve in Quito would be like every other New Year's celebration around the world: Watching Dick Clark's rockin' party in New York City and counting down as the giant ball dropped in Times Square.

Apparently, not everyone does that. And apparently, in other countries, they do things for New Year´s Eve that do not involve paying a ridiculous cover charge to get into a shitty bar and drinking in excess. Oh wait -- the latter part is worldwide.




[cultural lesson #1]

Ecuadorians welcome the new year by recognizing the "años viejos" ("old years"). What this entails is everyone stuffing life-size dummies with paper, sawdust and firecrackers (read: one *tiny* notch below dynamite) and then burning them at midnight. Factor in masks and cross-dressing somewhere (men dress as women and play the old year's "widow" role) and that is the Ecuadorian New Years celebration in a nutshell.

[/cultural lesson #1]

Mark and I spent the evening incognito (see above) and walking through the massive street festival on Avenida Amazonas (the main strip in the New Town). I concentrated on dodging renegade roman candles and avoiding 7-year-olds with firecrackers. Mark, however, focused more on... eating. Everytime I turned around he was chowing something from a street vendor. Usually, it was meat on a stick.

P.S. Mark gets photo credits of the pix on this entry.