TORI'S TRAVELS: Quilotoa Volcano

Yes, yes, it's been a while. Things here are just so incredibly busy. I wake up at six am and go to bed after eleven, falling asleep immediately. However, at the demand of my avid fans and readers (hi mom), I decided to squeeze in at least one more blog post before going home in (less than!) two weeks.

Quilotoa is a bright, dusty epicenter of rich and old Ecuadorian culture. It's high, high up in the Andes. The mountains stab through the downy clouds and the slopes are flecked with grazing llamas. We drove higher than I've ever driven in my life, and every turn revealed another sweeping vista.

The people who claim the mountains as their home are even more incredible. They wear richly-hued shawls and hats of dark velvet. Their cheeks are darkened from constant exposure to sun and the thin, gelid air.

And they don't like getting their pictures taken.

At one point I was snapping photos of a distant field of sheep watched over by a little woman. I could barely discern her features, but her crimson shawl was a strong contrast with the viridescent landscape. After I had shot several photographs, however, I noticed she had scrambled for cover behind a fence post. Now, fence posts are not the most effective hiding places. They're kinda the worst, especially when you're wearing bright red. But I got the message and aimed my camera higher.

We spent the night in a rustic inn, staying up late singing while gathered around the common room's big fireplace. It was a cold, starry night, but Regan and I stayed warm huddled together beneath three alpaca blankets, and the next morning I was both alarmed and amused to discover ice in my contact case. But mostly alarmed (#floridagirl).

We next made the precarious hike down into the volcano, in which a deep, green lago has formed. The trail was so steep that simply walking down took energy and focus. The high altitude had left me feeling dizzy with a headache, and I kept slipping on the loose sand. With all this in my befuddled, oxygen-deprived mind, I was not pleased by the prospect of hiking back up the darn thing, but when we got to the bottom I discovered a system where you pay $10 and get to ride a mule up the volcano! Ever since hearing about mule rides in the Grand Canyon, I've been dying to do something like this, and it was offered at such a good price. Plus, it solved my laziness problem of not wanting to hike up. Double win, Ecuador. Double win.

Feelin' XXII

out for sushi in celebration of my XXII birthday – photo cred goes to Regan

I live in Ecuador and I had pumpkin pie for my birthday.

I don't know if you realize how remarkable that statement is. You see, pumpkin…you can't find it in Ecuador. It just doesn't exist. No pumpkin seeds, no canned pumpkin, nothin'. This posed a problem to me; I've had pumpkin pie for my birthday for as long as I can remember, and while there's certainly nothing unpleasant about eating chocolate cake for you birthday (or anytime, for that matter), pumpkin pie makes the experience so much more special.

pumpkin pie with my twin

pumpkin pie with dragon hair

because two is better than one

pumpkin pie with my twin (again)

pumpkin pie in ECUADOR

pumpkin cupcake

pumpkin ice cream

Okay, I just really have this thing for pumpkin.

So we flew Jeff to the states and had him lug back several cans of pumpkin in his carry-on (yeah, bet that was fun). Yay!

The night before my birthday, Emme took me out for sushi, then she and Regan hauled me through several clothing stores and probadores until finally determining I looked cute in a pale blue blouse (with ruffles!!) and floral skinnies. I have always wanted floral skinnies.

On my birthday, I awoke to the smell of Happiness, which, in case you didn't know, is a mixture of citrus and apples and cinnamon. To me, it smells like Autumn and Christmas and the holidays and… and happiness. The source of this Happiness was a potpourri blend Regan found on pinterest. She and the girls made me breakfast which included an apple-cinnamon smoothie (drinkable happiness) and mini muffins (bite-sized happiness) and crêpes with strawberries & nutella (I don't even need to say it, do I?)

Throughout the day, I felt so blessed to be with such a wonderful family for my birthday. We listened to Taylor Swift's "22" more times than I care to enumerate and made pumpkin pie and cleaned the entire house (clean is fun, really). And then I ended up drinking the Happiness potpourri (I'm still alive; that's not a euphemism).

Thanks to everyone for all their birthday wishes! It's going to be a good year. :)

TORI'S TRAVELS: My life's a beach

Why, hi there. Things are going amazingly well here in Ecuador. I love the family I live and learn with, I love my sweet new fellow mentor, I love the fact that Daylight Savings doesn't exist in this country––so many good things. I can't believe I only have TWO MONTHS before heading back to Jersey!

A few weeks ago,we all piled in the car and left the mountains behind, spending the weekend in a lovely little coastal town. A note on driving. I've driven in Philadelphia, Rome, Paris––nothing is as crazy as Ecuador. Basically…ANYTHING GOES. Stop where you want, go where you want, pass where you want, speed where you want. It's total anarchy! Cars fly around blind turns shrouded in thick clouds like YOLO.

At first I was terrified, clutching the steering wheel with such intensity I was in danger of giving myself CTS. I kept my eyes glued to the road, ignoring the viridescent cloud forests flashing by. Obviously, looking at the road while driving is a pretty good philosophy for any scenario––even in my farmland hometown in Jersey––but it is especially smart when driving around sharp turns in the Andes. Why? Remember how I said anything goes? Well, that applies to which lane you drive in, too. Several times, coming around a curve, I had to hit my brakes because a car was flying directly towards me! Crazy, right?

The good news is that I survived, and after five hours of motor anarchy, I stepped out of the car to bask in that glorious thing called humidity.

Well, the humidity wasn't so great when the elevator broke and we had to repeatedly hike up seven flights of stairs to our condo. The view was worth the climb, though. (Um, in retrospect.) After living high up in the Andes for so many months, the tropical air was so warm, thick and moist I felt like it might get stuck in my lungs. 

At the beach, I didn't get sunburnt, go swimming in the ocean, or build any sandcastles. I did buy one of those floppy sun hats I've always wanted, see a magnificent frigatebird for the first time, and taste several delicious local foods (chifles are my new weakness).

HashtagCountYourBlessings

Hey! Sorry to have been MIA for so long (I'm sure you noticed), but a month ago my dear, aged laptop died for good. The poor thing was literally wheezing and displaying a flashing question mark. Luckily for me, I have a father who works in resuscitating deceased computers. Even wheezing, fatally confused computers. So now (spoilers) I am happy to announce that after one month of an electronic dark age, I am posting from my old computer.

It wasn't an easy road, though. The Ecuadorian mail system is so corrupt you can't ship anything anywhere, and computers here are double the cost of computers purchased in the States. When my computer first displayed the dreaded question mark, I was sprawled on the floor (coincidentally, the only location in my bedroom that gets a signal also seems to be a favorite gathering spot for spiders––we've had many close encounters) and I was bawling. HOW CAN I LIVE WITHOUT A COMPUTER?!? The question initially had me baffled.

I'm teaching the Old Testament in Primary this year and, thankfully, it gave me some perspective: Job's family was squashed, Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers, Eglon was so obese that the scriptures record him as a "very fat man" (sure would love THAT to go down in history), Samson gets his eyes poked out and dies, Jonathan should've been king but his father is wicked and they both die, Prometheus gets his liver eaten out by an eagle every day for all eternity because he CAN'T die. I mean, these are real problems (well, except for Prometheus, who doesn't actually exist––lucky for him) and, upon contemplation, the plight of not having a computer for three months was belied in their light.

This is what we call "photo editing by hand." Classy, right?

I'm pretty lucky. Probably. For one thing, I will not go down in history being known as a "very fat man." I also have the afore-mentioned computer-resucitating father. He's amazing. He loaded a new OS onto a flash drive, mailed it to a friend in Utah who flew to Ecuador a few weeks later, FaceTimed to walk me through the entire process of rebooting my laptop, and has patiently been responding to all my messages throughout the past several days in which I bewail any new problem that arises.

Mainly that my computer has mechanical asthma. And sometimes crashes. And responds with the speed of a slug in the sun.

So, yeah, perhaps tomorrow I'll be posting about how my computer is dead, but the alleviation lies in the knowledge that I can take it. I can continue writing novels (I wrote a 5,000-word short story on my iPod like a boss. Then wore a wrist brace for a week. Also like a boss.) by hand, and planning school projects by hand and doing internet blogging by hand and, um, storing and editing photos by hand…

OKAY. Without a computer I can't do everything I want to do, even though they're righteous pursuits, but, just like the millions of people on this earth who have lived, loved, accomplished great things and died without ever seeing a computer, I know that I can utilize a little creativity, a little industry and a little gratitude, and get by––even thrive––without a laptop in front of me.

Just don't take my hot showers.

France + Italia // TOP TEN

Hello Ecuador, I'm back! I've always found it a relief to finally be home after a long vacation, but I've gotta admit, I already miss France! And Italy…well, I missed Italy before I even left Italy. It's just that kind of place.

One of my favorite aspects about our trip was that we were there for two months. We lived in France, which meant we weren't just rushing from one tourist spot to the next. We wandered. We got sidetracked––sometimes lost. We savored it all.

Yes, I stood (wide-mouthed) in the Sistine Chapel and rode to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but I think my very favorite moments, places, memories were the quieter spots, the sun-or-rain-drenched afternoons of unplanned exploration, the echoing of hushed voices in a centuries-old cathedral.

I compiled a list of my five seven ten favorite places (in no particular order). It was crazy-hard, but still wonderful to go over every moment, every location, and reexamine everything I love (needless to say, European toilets did not make the list). Here are the first five:

#1 - Santa Maria del Fiore

I've already talked a lot about this cathedral, home to Brunelleschi's incredible duomo, which you can read in my blog post about Italia. Seeing the duomo come into view for the first time is one of the most wonderful moments of my life.

#2 - Loches 

Loches [LUSH] was the first town in France I explored. It's a charming place, with cobblestone streets, antique bookshops, patisseries––all beneath the beautifully-preserved contours of the château. Walking the streets of Loches made me feel like I was at a resort or theme park. Everything is just so picturesque, it's hard to belief it's real––people live here––and not manufactured, that you're not going to step around the corner and find yourself back in the modern world.

#3 - Pointe St-Mathieu et Le Conquet (everything Bretagne)

Let's start with Bretagne (Brittany), a region in north-western France. After living in the Loire Valley for a month, we moved up to Bretagne and I was shocked at the difference in culture. Bretagne is the Texas of France, a rugged, beautiful land rich with its own culture. They have their own flag, cuisine, even their own celtic language, Breton, which uses lots of K's and Z's and I have no idea how to pronounce any of it.

"Beg Lok-a-mah-zuh?!" Yup. That's Breton!

One crystalline afternoon, we took a drive out to a seaside town called Le Conquet to see the lighthouse there, Pointe St-Mathieu. The sea and sky were saturated with color and the waves crashed against the rocky cliffs, sending up an milky spray. The entire scene looked like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting (yes, maybe a little kitschy, but still gorgeous). I was ready to buy a house and never leave!

#4 - Huelgoat

The Chaos

Huelgoat [OO-el-gwuaht …yeah, have fun with that] is definitely off the beaten path, but one of my favorite stops. The town is brimming with folklore about druids, Merlin, fairies and a mischievous little sprite called a "korrigan" found in Breton stories. 

Running directly through the center of Huelgoat is a river of massive, moss-covered boulders. Locals call it "The Chaos" and one can hike in, over, under and through these rocks. When we arrived, a light rain fell from a sky heavy with clouds. I usually don't enjoy getting rained on––actually, I hate it––but something about the rain seemed to swathe the extraordinary scenery with an extra sense of enchantment. I honestly felt like a character on a quest.

Within The Chaos, we stopped to picnic in La Grotte d'Artus (where King Arthur apparently did something noteworthy) and caused the 137-ton Roche Tremblante ("Trembling Rock") to wobble––quite a feat, I must say!

It took some teamwork, but we really did get this boulder to budge.

#5 - Mont Saint Michel

If you want to see a magical place, go to Mont Saint Michel, a stunning abbey-fortress built on a tiny island, originally accessible only at low tide. It was several hours away from our "base" in Brest, but we decided to make the trip anyway, arriving as the sun began its descent and the sky turned a soft shade of lavender.

Doesn't that look incredible? Even though all the shops were closed (in France, everything shuts down at precisely 7:30pm despite the fact that the summer sun doesn't set until after 10:00pm), our timing felt perfect. The heat of the day had faded and the crowds were gone. We took a leisurely walk across the bay and reached the old stone walls of Mont Saint Michel just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon.

Inside, we wound our way up the narrow, cobblestone streets, lit by golden lantern-light, eventually reaching the abbey at the very top of the island. From there, I could see distant lights twinkling from the French coast. The sea breeze whipped at my hair and I could hear the waves, far below, in their soothing roll. I watched the sky become dark, then turned and made my way back through the quiet streets.