International differences

You know how they say there's no place like home?

Well, in Puerto Rico, it may seem almost like home (read: American territory), but it's scarily similar to my secondary home, Latin America.*

On one hand, you have the quintessential Latin American housing, on the other, Puerto Rico is cleaner than most countries in the Caribbean/Latin America.  Flying into San Juan might at first glance appear to be like flying into any American city:  soaring skyscrapers, highways, and parking lots.  However, upon a sight longer glance, it's like flying into Latin America: below you is chaotic traffic, rusty metal roofs, and overgrown vegetation typically around fascinating graffiti.  The metal roofs are what mainly give it away from the air.

Buildings in Puerto Rico are either stately and tall, skyscrapers that you would expect to see in New York or Seattle, or they are squat and square with rusty metal roofs; plants and laundry blowing in the wind sit half-hidden on rooftop terraces.  It's an eclectic mix, although in the older parts of town (now historic sites), colonial spanish town homes dominate the streets.

After retrieving luggage and walking into the humid afternoon air, you could be in any large city around the globe.  However, zipping down the streets, it is fast apparent that you are not.  Street signs, although identical to U.S. signs, are written in Spanish.  (Spanish and English are both national languages in Puerto Rico, although Spanish dominates.)  Approximately 85% of the advertising and stores you pass will be written in Spanish.  But that's not what sets the city apart - it is the driving conditions.  Unless you are a seasoned California driver, and maybe even not then, driving is hectic and indecipherable.  In old San Juan, the streets are cobblestone with a row of parallel parked cars lining the left side of the street.  At this point, I have flashes to the colonial part of Quito, which is the same, although the cobblestone is typical beige, not blue as it is in San Juan.  What in the States is considered one lane would be made into two, or at least one lane and a row of cars.  I can literally reach my hand out the window and touch the car next to us.  Latin American driving at it's finest.**

While staring out the windows hoping like mad that you don't die in an accident, familiar and less familiar signs pop into view.  Pizza Hut.  Pueblo.  McDonalds.  St. Germain. Bar de Tapas.  Wendy's.  Ben & Jerry's.  The island is overrun with U.S. restaurants.  Traditional comida puertoriquena is available in street kiosks as well as restaurants and identifies more with Ecuadorian cuisine than American or Mexican.  Plus, don't expect great service in a restaurant - they seem to have accepted the Spanish tendency to linger over meals.

*I know, I just married a Russian.  I should get over this whole "Latin America" fixation...***

**The worst driving I have seen in my travels is in Mexico, where it appears there are no rules when it comes to the road.  Second place is Costa Rica, with Ecuador coming up third...almost  a tie with San Juan.

***(It's not going to happen.)

Nights in the rainforest

A sunny day as I enter the Amazon basin

It is commonly accepted that the white noise of nature is soothing and helps one relax.  Many people in the world use nature sounds to lull them to sleep every night.

I decided to join their prestigious ranks.

This decision was mainly based upon the fact I like to listen to music to fall asleep.  However, it could possibly be said that the music that appeals to me on certain nights does not lead to restful sleep.

My solution:  Rainforest sounds.

Perfect, right?  I mean, the rainforest is my favorite place on earth (somebody should tell the fiancé before it's too late and I make him move there).  There's nothing like laying there and hearing the rainforest swelling around you, enveloping you in it's humid grasp.

So, what did I do?  I downloaded several rainforest tracks and when it came time to place my head down on feathers and let sleep claim me, I was ready.  The unmistakable rise and fall of the oropendola's call flutters to my ears and assaults me with memories of the impossible task of trying to sleep early mornings with oropendolas nesting right next to the camp.   The burping call of another feathered friend reminds me of pensive moments along the riverbank.  The intermittent rain reminds me of the sudden storms while out on multi hour treks and how we used gigantic banana leaves as makeshift umbrellas.  The soft humming of the huatzin's four stomachs reminds me of how their mismatched oddities came to be familiar with each trip to the lagoon. The cadence of various birds shifting across the background dredges up memories of early morning bird tours in tiny dug out canoes, as well as afternoons sitting at camp watching the Indigenas playing soccer.

I miss the jungle - the sights, the sounds, the smells of it.

The night track brings me back to every night I lay on my mattress, enshrouded in my mosquito net that didn't always quite keep the bugs out if the door wasn't zipped completely closed at all times.  I remember wolf spiders in the showers, cicadas of surprising size that paid a visit to our evening candlelit cuarenta games.  A bewildered marsupial who waddled into our haphazard kitchen one evening, and on another, our surprise visit from a nocturnal monkey.  There were times where I just sat and looked at the stars in the night sky.*

Night falling in la laguna after fishing, a swim, and bird watching.
After dark, we search for caiman.

Memory after memory came back to me as I lay on my bed:  The snooty German who insisted on leaving after the first intolerable night filled with insect noises.  The friendly Germans who used me as a translator when our guide spoke no English.  The American couple on their honeymoon.  The Ecuadorian couple who were newly dating.  The one man who snored so loudly no one slept at night.  Walking through the swamp and misstepping into water up to my knee.  Searching for anacondas to no avail.  Waiting for various bugs to crawl off of me (most notably the wolf spider, but there was a conga ant on a trip before that - they have a nasty bite).  Catching a blue and orange fish on accident.  Grating yucca.  Letting bright blue butterflies land in my hair.  Spotting a double rainbow twice in the same day.

Things on the verge of being forgotten seeped their way to the forefront.  This, perhaps, isn't a good way to sleep.  I have a rather active imagination and what used to be a good memory before grad school.  Laying in a dark room listening to sounds from my past transports me back to every moment I spent there.

On one hand, it makes me homesick.  But...it does bring a smile to my face.

What is not happening at night is sleep.  My mind awakens with memories of the mysterious swirling through the dark.  If I want to sleep, I might have to switch to ocean waves...or maybe just rain.

*I've done it with binoculars on several occasions.  Ever tried?  What we perceive as merely dark sky isn't, when you look through binoculars.  Instead of being covered by a blanket of stars, we are at the bottom of a million-mile-high pile of them.  It's breathtaking.

It's not just my Tangled obsession...

Disney's Tangled is probably best known for the sky lanterns that motivate Rapunzel to leave her towering jail cell.  Not only do these paper lights call to a young girl, they brighten the sky in scenes of splendor.  They elegantly flicker to life and silently float away.  Sky lanterns aren't the only great thing about Tangled*, but they do captivate an audience.

A couple of years ago, while lounging about a hotel room in Cuenca, Ecuador, I glanced out the window to a vision I did not expect.  Lanterns were silently passing by my balcony.  The urge to slip outside and observe was too intense to ignore, and out I went.  It was beautiful.  Awe inspiring.  Surreal.  (Or maybe I'm just romantic and nonsensical.)  Apparently there is a tradition to release sky lanterns there in honor of a saint...just don't ask me which one.

Either way, I've been a sucker for them.  So imagine my surprise to find this while browsing the internet:

Must.  Buy.  Now.

*Ask the manfriend.  I beg him to buy it every time we walk into Best Buy or the movie section of Wal-mart.  Thus far he's been able to ignore my pleading.

Latin American cooking

The long sought-after achiote (annatto)

I've been craving ecuadorian food lately.  Fortunately, I have a few cookbooks of amazing ecuadorian recipes.  Locro de papas (drool), empanadas de viento (slobber), llapingachos (aaaah)...

The mood was upon me.  I began my quest to sooth my palate.  Unfortunately, although I have the cookbooks, I lack a few ingredients.  Specifically, I lack achiote.  Achiote, or annatto, as it is called in English, has a slight taste and a lot of color.  Locro de papas and llapingachos just aren't the same without their reddish orange color.  Trust me.  I made them both.

No matter.  I can find it, right?  I googled.  Yup.  This should be easily solvable.  Most people say look in the mexican section of the stores.  Mexican section?  Well, that should be easy.  So, I went to the store.

Nope.  Not there.  Store number 2... not there.

Store 573...still no annatto.  Does this even exist on the continent?  Did I make it up?

Well, apparently it's a staple in mexican cooking as well as in ecuadorian cooking.  I have my trusty mexican friends, I can ask them!  Brilliant!

So off I go to ask my friends.  Finally, I'll have a breakthrough!  Mexican friend number one:

Me:  Hey, have you heard of achiote?

Friend:  Uhm, what?

Me:  Achiote.

Friend:  What's that?

Me:  They use it in mexican and ecuadorian cooking...it's red.

Friend:  Oh.

Me:  Do you know where to buy it?  Maybe...?  Probably not...?

Friend:  No, not really...

Alright.  She doesn't know.  Strike out one.  This shouldn't be that hard.  Really.  I decide to email a friend in Ecuador.

Me:  (summarized because I wrote in Spanish)  I'm looking for choice to make llapingachos and loco de papas.  But I can't find it anywhere!  Maybe online?  I dunno.  Can you help me out?

The response:  Well, it comes from such and such a plant.  We usually buy it in powder or paste.  Maybe you can look at the grocery store?

Gaaaah!  This isn't helping.

Fast forward a month and I'm in a specialty and organic store, perusing loose leaf tea.  Side note:  Tropical Breeze and Sunset in Seattle are well worth their price.  So is Market Spice.  Back on track, I happen to notice they have bulk spices.  Hmmm....the wheels in my head start turning. Maybe, just maybe, since they specialize in the hard to find, they have what I'm looking for.

I edge my way down the aisle.  I scan the rows.  No achiote.  My eyes almost miss the Annatto Seed label.  Boom!  Yes!  Sold!

Two days later, at work, I finally see Friend 2 who's been sick on the days she typically comes to help me.  Does she know what achiote is?

Me:   Have you heard of achote?

Friend:  Achote, si, it's a green plant...

Me:  Uh, this stuff (showing the seeds)

Friend:  Oh!  Achiote.  Si, si, lo usamos to cook.

Me:  Where do you find it?

Friend:  Just at the store, by the sauces.  But it usually comes as a little block of paste.

Gah.  I still haven't seen it at the store.  At least she knew what it was and where to find it.  If I luck out, she can just buy the next installment of it for me.

Where am I?

With it still being dark at six in the morning when I return from the gym, the world seems different.

Take this morning, for example.  The moon is behind clouds and there's not a star in the sky.  My yard seems dark, being that the porch lights are dim.  It's not too late in the year for the sprinklers to be running, though.

I walk up to the door, and it's mostly quiet...but the sprinklers are going in the garden pressed against the porch.  The garden features fat, red blossoms and large, dark green leaves.  It's dark.  It smells like water.  I see plants and tropical flowers.  I hear water.

For a split second I feel like I'm in the rain forest.

Okay, maybe my imagination is too quick at inventing new adventures.  (It takes about 0.00000001 second before it's veering off in a new direction.)  But I had the weird feeling I was there.  Perhaps the jungle is calling me back.  Maybe it's my longing to go to the rain forest again... to see the monkeys, walk for hours among millions of trees, catch a piranha or two...

Maybe I'd even see a pink dolphin again.  They only live in the Amazon, you know.  Or perhaps I could encounter another anaconda sunning himself in a tree.

Close, but not too close, to a lovely little big friend

I quickly shook off the moment and stepped through the door.  I know I'm not near any tropical forests.  I just want to go back.  (Who's with me?)

There's Machu Picchu, now turning...turning...

Image:  Arvind Balaraman/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Just kidding!  I haven't been to Machu Picchu...

Yet.

The travel section is, was, and always will be where you can find me in a book store.  Walking into Barnes and Noble, I instinctually know where my books are, as if the wild aroma of adventure wafts over to me from the small section marked travel essays.

With a quick wave to my companion, I veer off in the direction of my books.  If the manfriend is lucky, I'll order a drink before disappearing into the books.

God's Middle Finger:  Into the Lawless Heart of the Sierra Madre.  I'm going to have to read more of that, but let's see what else.  Too Much Tuscan Sun.  Hmmm...maybe.  Into Thin Air.  I dunno.  I'll Never Be French.  That's for sure.  Turn Right at Machu Picchu.  What's this?  Machu Picchu? The book brazenly demands of you before it is even opened.  I...just...might...  I glance at the back.  Alright, I will turn at Machu Pichhu.  That is, if I ever get there.

I stride back to the table reserved by the manfriend and remaining "half" of a tiramisu parfait, my eyes too busy scanning the first pages of the text to notice the missing part of my dessert.  The  next hour escapes my notice as Mark Adams guides me through his background.

Manfriend:  Ready to go?

Me:  blank stare

Manfriend:  Ready?

Me:  You're buying me this book?

Manfriend:  Can't you get it from PaperBack Swap*?

Me: Not available... You're buying me this book?

Manfriend:  How much?

Me:  (glancing around) Uhhh, $27?

Manfriend:  Isn't it cheaper online?

Me:  You're buying me this book now, or I'm buying it online.  Today.

Manfriend:  How much online?

Me: $17.

Manfriend:  pointed look

Me:  Fiiiiiiine.

I don't know that he believed me, but by the time we walked through the front door, the book was bought and paid for online.  It's addicting, both funny and interesting.  Mr. Adams manages to wind his story of adventure traipsing around in the Amazon with that of the Inca and how Machu Picchu came to be discovered after so many years by Hiram Bingham.

The Amazon.  The Inca.  Rainforest.  The Andes.  Discovery.  History.  Latin America.  It reminds me of all that time I spent in Ecuador, yet with my favorite learning thrown in.  When will this book get here?

I pace around the house, count the days.  Hellooooo, universe, (or Amazon), I'm waiting!

Finally!  Finally.  At long last, it's here!

I might be MIA for the next few days as I get lost in the world of books, but it'll be worth it.  Feel free to entertain yourself in this lull by buying your own copy of the book here.

All anyone's going to see of me in the next few days

*PaperBackSwap is a free online book trading community that mails requested books between members, which is a great way to recycle books and make them more affordable.  Go check it out!

The French

Some things we assume are too fantastical for real life. You know, the man cruising down the street, head protruding from the sunroof as he thrusts flowers in the air and declares "I love you" for all the world to hear. Or the man showing up at the airport as the woman's plane departs, only to turn around and have her standing behind him saying "I couldn't go."

The man so smitten by love (after staring at a woman for 5 minutes), that he's willing to do anything to make her happy. The woman so beautiful traffic comes to a stop as she walks down the street.

Scratch that. I've seen that one.

She was gorgeous, to be honest. Beautiful, with an almost universal appeal (only one of my guy friends could resist her charm blasting from a photo). A Frenchwoman with some Spanish mixed in, with large ember eyes and a mass of jet black hair, the professors at Academia Latinoamerica called her a gypsy*.

Being one of the few students at the superior level of classes lumped this Frenchwoman and me together for the bulk of her stay in Ecuador. We traveled together and whiled away time in Quito.

One afternoon we decided to book a trip to the rain forest. Walking down the street in La Mariscal (the tourist section of the city), traffic stopped. On her account. She was merely strolling down the dirty street with me a couple of paces behind.

It started with one car. Then two.  Traffic literally stopped to watch her walk.

In a country where blonde hair and blue eyes are prized, she stopped traffic with long black hair and flirtatious eyes. Yes, she was beautiful. With a look, she could promise a man forever and merely a moment. She had the art of seduction down to an art.

But stopping traffic? I'm impressed. It's certainly never happened to me before.

*much to her consternation. In France, it seems, being a gypsy has negative connotations, whereas in Latin America, gypsies are though of as exotic and beautiful.

Since I started the theme...

Spiders. Yes, they are much hated and feared. I'm truly sorry if you have to quickly click past this post for fear a spider will come to life from your screen and attack you.

I figured that since I had been posting about eight legged creatures I should share something I'm sure most of you have never seen or heard of.

A scorpion spider.

I thought it was a joke when the then-manfriend pointed him out while walking in the rain forest.

Manfriend: (up ahead and halfway behind a tree) "Ven aca! Check this out, friends."

Me: "What am I looking for?"

Manfriend: "Aquí. A scorpion spider!" he gestures toward the ground about a foot from the tree.

Me: "Scorpion spider? I don't believe you. I've never heard of a scorpion spider...(he must be joking)...and all I see is a black stick."

Manfriend: "Sí. Es the spider."

Me: "Uhm, what?" I peer harder at the stick.

All of a sudden I see it. It is a spider! With long, long legs. And claws. Long, scary looking claws, that he can apparently use to reach out and catch prey. Its like a daddy long legs on crack. With claws. And a disproportionately large body. And have I mentioned the claws? With teeth?  (Look closely.)  Kinda cool, but most definitely weird.

I'm just glad I'm a human and not whatever it is that they eat.  That would be a horrible, ugly death.

On the topic of spiders...

Spiders don't really bother me.  I generally leave them alone unless they are invading my space bubble (read: touching me).  Out in nature, they play their role and are good for the environment.  But once they are on my turf, it's action time, which I've said before.

I am, after all, a spider murderer. I don't require someone else to do my dirty work or a man to come save the day. I am my own hero. Plus, if I'm invading their space, I acknowledge that and sidestep out of their way.

Not much frightens me, truth be told. (Now, jumping tarantulas that can also "walk" on water due to their furriness, that's another thing...) As a result, I can very happily be found trekking through the rain forest ahead of the other tourists with no hesitation.

Spiders? Who cares. Snakes? Not a problem, we'd catch them as kids. Millipedes?  Gross, but whatever.  Piranhas? (Okay, only in the water, but still...) Bring it on*. Conga ants who's bite will hurt for weeks? Just don't touch anything.  Poisonous frogs?  Cool, can I have one?

On one night walk in the jungle, our group of international tourists came across a wolf spider. My manfriend at the time generally felt the urge to provoke these arachnids into a defensive position for "more interesting" pictures. He was out of his mind. This time, though, he knew better.

Manfriend: "Alright, folks, everyone see the wolf spider?" aiming his flashlight at a branch ahead of us.

Illuminated on a branch 6 inches above our heads and two feet in front of me, a lone wolf spider waits for his prey.

Tourists: "Oh wow." (gasping and murmuring)

Manfriend: "Be careful walking under it. Don't bother him."

Alright, I'm off.

Tourists: "oh. Uhm..." (more gasping and murmuring)

Fearless, I walk on.  Honestly, he's not going to jump on you, people.  Just walk.

The Lucys (two tourists with the same name): "I'm scared." (whimpering)

Somehow, we all manage to walk on by the spider and continue our evening walk... for about 7 more minutes.  At one point, each person turns off their flashlight and we are consumed by the black of the rain forest as the songs of the insects creep steadily toward us. It is unnerving, this absence of visual stimulation, and overwhelming perception of sound and the sudden awareness of the aroma of damp earth and fresh rain.

Night walks are a unique experience that one rarely gets to glimpse on a quick tour to Cuyabeno.

Yet the spider appears to be too much for the Lucys. Among some tears and handholding, we turn back.  10 minutes?  Shortest jungle walk ever.  (They usually last hours.) In my head I'm screaming...not only for their inability to deal with a spider, but because they apparently need to be comforted with a hug or two, from my manfriend.

*Piranhas have an eerily aggressive reputation, but won't actually attack a human (because of our size) unless blood thirsty...meaning there are too many of them in too small a space because it's the dry season - in which case, they become cannibalistic.  If those are the conditions and you are bleeding, then they might attack.

Hearing things

Do you ever hear things? No, not voices in your head that tell you to do creepy things like stalk someone or bomb a building. Just, things.

Like right now, I swear I heard a panpipe. What do you mean "what are panpipes?" Panpipes, you know, the bunch of different lengths of tubes tied together. You blow into the end...It's a musical instrument from the Andes...

photo from brittanica.com

There is no music playing, no radio on. The neighbor's band does not feature a panpipe solo (although if it did, I might have to re-think my opinion of the band).

I'm just sitting outside, and suddenly I heard a few lilting notes, like a shaman was calling me back to Ecuador. It was real, I tell you. It did not sound like it was in my head. I didn't see anything strange, no twirling of brightly colored cloth, no dancing Andean singers began to bark (they do that in many traditional songs), I just heard it.

Dancer in Otavalo, Ecuador

A real noise.

Like panpipes.

But apparently not panpipes.

And no, before you ask, it wasn't the ice cream truck that stalks the neighborhood with odd songs.

I wonder what it was, apart from my overactive imagination coming back to life again. Does this happen to you, or am I really just that odd?

Everybody needs a monkey

A hug is like a strange you haven't finished yet. - Copernicus

The Bloggess recently posted about buying herself a stuffed monkey.  It's an awesome post, and if you don't read it, you really are missing out.  So go read it, and come back here.  I'll wait.

All of this talk about monkeys makes me miss one that I befriended in Ecuador.  (They're so cute!)  Picture this:  The year is 2008, you're in a damp rainforest miles away from any kind of road or town.  Civilization is long gone, a day up the river by canoe, and the plants slowly creep towards you.  The sounds are rain and insects and the deep drone of bees.

Out of the green that invades the air, a shot of black appears and launches itself at you.  Say hello to Pancha.

Pancha

Pancha is a monkey saved from poachers in Cuyabeno rainforest.  She lives at the Samoa camp ground with the guides who saved her.  Because she has spent so much time with people, she has become tame...

She eats with the tourists (sometimes off your plate if you're not careful), plays with the tourists, and even drinks from the sink.

Seeking refuge under the table...for the moment

And guess where her favorite place to sit is....that's it, on your shoulder, with her tail wrapped around your neck.  From this position, she will launch herself towards different items that interest her.  Of course, she holds on...with her tail.  It actually feels like the tail is stronger than her arms, which it might be...I'll have to google that at some point.  At first it's really odd to feel her holding on with her extra appendage, but you get used to it the longer she plays with you.

Do you see how the tail wraps around the neck?

The person who loved her the most is very likely my nephew.  They became close friends while we visited the jungle.  When we'd get back to camp every afternoon, she'd eventually make her way onto his shoulder.

Anyway, the point is, if you read The Bloggess's article, that a monkey really could strangle you, even a really cute one like Pancha.  She will, however, probably use her tail, and you wouldn't know until it was too late.

Fortunately for Pancha, she is not a homicidal monkey.  Nor is she being sold in a store.  (Nor is she a klepto like the monkeys I ran across in Costa Rica...they'll swing down and grab your hat off your head, or try to take your backpack).  She is living free and happy in her home.

Ecuador es parte de mi alma (Ecuador is part of my soul)

House Hunters International is running about an American couple who wants to move to Ecuador.  The male in this relationship has visited for business, and so logically, why wouldn't they buy a vacation home and spend winters there?

I have to admit, real estate is cheap in Ecuador.  Even in Salinas, a beach town, it's dirt cheap.  The program starts and panpipes start up and the Andes splash across the screen, soon overridden with the waves of the Pacific.  My heartbeat immediately quickens and my knees get weak.  Why isn't it me?  I could very happily invest in real estate in Ecuador...and on the beach, even better.  They claim it's less than $100 a square foot for beachfront property.  Whimper.  I'll move to a smaller town.  Salinas?  I can do better.  Really.  Yes, Canoa is beautiful, casual, and friendly.  And as they're declaring on the tv, Ecuador has "great" weather (I'd call it ideal), the people are friendly, and the infrastructure is stable.  I'd also like to add to this list that Ecuador is also on US currency.  Having the same currency really makes transitions easy.  And have I mentioned it's cheap?

So, Canoa...only my favorite beach since the day I arrived on it's sandy shores.  Sun.  Sand.  Friendly.  Casual.  Occasional beach fires.  Surfing.  Pinguinos.  Hammocks.  Waves.  Not overrun by foreign tourists.  In a word: Perfect.

Looking at the cliffs

I guess if the beach doesn't work out for me, there's always the valley of longevity.

Always a new trail to hike

Dominated by mountains, Vilcabamba has a slow pace to walk hand-in-hand with stress-free living and the simple things...like massages.  The best massages I've ever had, and the cheapest:  Vilcabamba.  No wonder people live until they're 100+.

A place to relax with a beautiful view

Give me a hike, a book, and a hammock, and I'm set for the week.  To quote Shakespeare: I like this place, and could willingly waste my time in it.