A Second Glance

I have learned a lot about second chances, second glances, second tries while here in Ecuador. Today was my last day in Quito for this trip, & probably my last time for quite some time. I decided to be a tourist today, but it ended up not being what I thought as is ever the case in Ecuador.

El arbol de vida y la panacea detrás 

My family left yesterday which was a second chance in & of itself. I often wonder how I am related to them & this only made me more curious. Sure I look just like the Dyer's, yes I have the feet of a Thurmond, but where did I get this brain, this curiosity, this stubborness (oh yeah, that's definitely the Dyer side)? I felt like a tour guide for my family, translating, learning a lot of Spanish, practicing a lot of wagering & slang, trying to navigate while staying sane. I did not enjoy it. The nice thing about traveling with my friends is we all have the same basic wants & needs: explore, eat, practice some Spanish conversations, relax, & dance/sing/move. When I went to Banos with them before, we immediately made two new friends on the bus. A fearless Egyptian girl named Milak & a stressed out, guapo Italian Candadian named Alex. We arrived, we took flaming shots (explanation: Shannon, another teacher at Colegio, lived in Banos for a few months so when we ran into her she brought us to her friends' bar who then fed us shots that were on fire & disgusting), then we crashed. Since we were all equally non-fluent in Spanish yet desperately wanting to practice the 10-200 words we know, we all jabber & make friends everywhere we go.



My family knows approximately 3 words in Spanish, are frightened rather than intrigued my 3rd world customs, thinks it's strange to hang clothes on a line, & need a nap in the middle of a beautiful day. How is it possible for my to travel hapipily with them, especially since I have this defective thing inside of me that feels like it is my sole responsibility to make everyone around me happy, like it is my fault if something goes wrong. Jesse always points this out to me, but I can't help it. If others are happy, I am happy. If I feel someone isn't having fun, I won't have fun. It's not just any old person, though. It was OK with me if the Canadian & Egyptian weren't happy, it's just the people I love most, the reason Jesse notices it so much. My family stresses me out to begin with, but I love them & I wanted them to love Ecuador like I do, so I tried to make it perfect. Of course, perfection is impossible so I was disappointed & I believe they were, too. This is why I always travel solo: I can make myself happy, it's easy. Give me a nice view, a coffee, maybe a museum or two, & I can be happy for days, maybe months. But the minute someone is with me, I am asking "How's the view? Do you like the coffee? Are you having fun? What do you want to do next?" & they're probably thinking "Shut up, Lauren & let me enjoy my coffee & the view!", but instead the say "yeah, mm hmm" which only makes me think I've screwed up, I should have taken them to the other coffee shop or mountain or museum. SO maybe it's me that screws things up, but that's me, happy traveling alone, unhappy home alone.

cafecita with Tori, she said she liked it

picking a wedgie while asking my mom if she likes the view


How'd I start takling about this? Oh yes, Banos. So the first time I went to Banos was amazing. We rode bikes to the waterfalls, went on a hike to the river above them, got lost from each other, took the cable car back across, ate 50 cent fro-yo (Ecuadorian fruit flavors), biked down a mountains, got tired & hitchhiked, drank beer/ate llapangachos/tacos, rode in the back of a truck to a tree house where there were cows, stars, & a smoldering volcano.

the salsa party

It was amazing. Oh, & we salsa'd until 2 am in stobey nightclubs AND apparently I'm good, because my big butt doesn't have to do much. After a day of bikin', hikin', & dancin', Kat, Fausat, & I got $20 75 min. massajes/facials/manicures (yes, I have gotten just as many massages & manicures in Ecuador in 2 months than 22 years in the U.S.) before hopping on the bus back to Quito. This second trip to Banos with my family doesn't compare. I wanted to replicate the first, but how do you do what you did with an eclectic group of young locals & Canadians with your parents & sister who don't know Spanish & are scared of bikes, dancing, & South Americans? I wanted them to know the fun I had, to feel the adrenaline & joy I had when I looked at the mountains from my bicycle or sweated in the discotecas to Spanish club music. I wanted them to savor the Pilsener & massage after working fard for the most beautiful view in Banos & after getting dirty from the smoke of a volcano. At least they got to see la mitad del mundo (the middle of the world). Maybe I had to earn those things. Maybe it took 2 months of being lost in the language to finally be able to say "listo!" Anyways, Banos is beautiful & I hope my family like it because I know I do. It's healing water & volcano air make me fall in love with the small towns of Ecuador.

me & Tori in a doon buggy

Maybe it was the stress from my family or maybe it was the realization of how little time I have left in Quito, either way, today was MY day. I honed my museum girl attitude & took to the streets of Quito for some serious beauty time in La Capilla del Hombre, an art gallery/museum of Ecuadorian artist Guayasamini. I nearly started crying in the musem because of what I had experienced here & what he painted in what he saw living in Quito: the misery, poverty, starvation, normal things that go unnoticed he brought to the people in huge paintings with haunting eyes & exposed ribs. I remember a few weeks ago when Kat & I went to the top of Pichincha on the teleferico & she said she couldn't believe what we were seeing was real. There were barren mountains, huge pieces of land, rolling rocks & an alpaca. It was beautiful, but for me those are the REAL things. The unreal things are the kids without clothes or the man who sleeps on the street. The babies who are dirty on the bus & the kids beggins for 5 cents in the plazas. Those things seems more UNREAL to me. Guayasamini made them real, but them unable to ignore. Here are a few of his paintings.

Afterwards I took a taxi to la Iglesia de Guapulo. I walked in as mass was ending so I got to see the inside fresh from singing & praying. There was a car outside getting holy water shaken on it because it wouldn't start & women selling candles & rosaries on the steps. Inside were Virgens, men in robes, saints looking holy, you know, normal cathedral stuff. Today, though, I was feeling reverent. I decided to sit & look at her for a while, & by her I mean Mary. She looked pretty, peaceful, yet sad. She was holding baby Jesus & church goers were knelt in front if her, holding her porcelain feet trying to grasp what they need, what they want. I looked at her face, then around her at the intricate detail someone put into creating not only, but the paintings & embellishments on the walls all around her. Someone important must have sat near here, because there were small, golden, equally intricate. I touched my third eye but didn't make the cross because, well, I'm not Catholic, but I wanted to do something to show Mary I was thinking about her & all the children & misery I had just seen suffering on pictures in a museum, but here I was, overly well-fed, just saw my family, & happy. That's what my thumb to my third eye said to Mary, it said "I know, & I won't ignore it."

la Iglesia de Guapulo

I went outside & wrote on my envelope then decided at the last minute to go somewhere I'd heard of near Centro Historico: La museo del Agua (the museum of water). It was really cool even though I couldn't understand most of what I was reading. I followed everyone else, did what they did, said what they said, & mirrored their inflections & expressions. The best thing about the museum was the view. I could see Cuyambe (the volcano), La Basilica, La panecea, all of centro...it was beautifully place in the middle of "avenida de los volcanes" (the avenue of the volcanos). On a clear day (do those exist in Quito) you can apparently see all 5 of the volcanos surrounding Quito.

After I left, I walked past a restaurant & glanced inside. "Interesting," I thought, "that sign said milkshakes AND coffee." I walked about 5 more steps, got scared because it was a bad side of town, & decided I would rather have a milkshake & coffee before getting robbed. I walked back up the hill & popped in. "Puedo ir a arriba?" (Can I go upstairs?) "Por su puesto!" (of course!) the restaurant owner answered me. From the top of his house/restaurant, I could see everything, one of the best views of Quito next to the top of Pichincha. After drinking in la mirador (the view), I went downstairs to drink in some sugar. I ordered a banana milkshake (basically banana milk, I had one for breakfast, too, they're a new favorite) & un cafe con leche (boiled milk, instant coffee, & sugar, another Ecuadorian favorite). The I procided to write on my napkin & stare at the city below & surrounding mountains. Then the owner decided I looked lonely so he started chatting me up for the next hour, showing me all of his old pictures of different parts of Quito fron the last 1800's before the millions of people & houses. He was wonderful, so now I have to plug for him. If ever in Quito, this restaurant is a must: beautiful, small, cheap, delicious, & one of the most honest & sincere Ecuadorians I have had the pleasure to meet: "Punkuyaku", Restaurante Mirador. The owner's name is Alberto & he wears Irish old man hats & van sneakers.

Here's what I wrote on my napkin while I sat up there: "From up here, the city looks tired, worn by travelers, the local users, abusers, onlookers. The Virgen & the church look over the buildings, houses, streets, alleys, kids, saddened, wanting to rest if only we'd let it. I see the plane, but can't hear it. I hear the people, but can't understand them.


Now I am off to the end of school. The two days I had last week weakened my spirit. There's a reason I chose secondary education, & 7th graders were not that reason. I am tried, exhausted, mentally drained from my three months here & I am ready to be done. I leave for the beach for 6 days by myself on Thursday, will return next Wednesday, & I fly back to the states the next day. This will be a time for me to reflect, to be in my natural state of happy solitude with the beach & the sun & probably some gringos. I am looking forward to hammocks, reading, writing, & being still. To hiking to the deserted beaches & hopping a boat to the island there. I am still here, I am still.