First week of classes

My first week of classes at CECAMI has ended. Thanks to the Easter holiday, my last class was Thursday morning so I have a wonderfully long weekend to relax and prepare for next week.

This past week was very interesting because in some ways my classes exceeded my expectations and in others they failed to meet them. I guess I should have done a better job of listening to our directors' advice about not having expectations.

As of right now I am teaching two classes everyday, one at 8:00am and another at 3:30pm. I'm supposed to have a 5:00 class as well but right now we simply don't have any students registered for that time period. (We're looking into possibly starting a conversation class at that time.) Both of the classes I'm teaching are Basic level with about fifteen students in each. They range in age from 13 to about 70 years old so there's quite a bit of variety.

I have found that my older students (30+ years) tend to have a much harder time with the language than my adolescent students. Overall, though, they are all at a much lower level than I had anticipated. All of the awesome lesson plans that I had whipped up over the weekend had to be altered and I ended up spending part of the week reviewing simple things like colors, days of the week, and basic introductions.

The great thing is that there are plenty of awesome activities that can be used to teach these things. And I have awesome students! After teaching classes of 40+ rowdy high school students for two weeks at Manuela Canizares in Quito, having a smaller, calmer class has been a breeze.

I do have two older students though, one from Colombia and one from the coast, that speak next to no English and are proving to be a bit of a challenge. They are clearly much further behind than the rest of my students and I'm struggling to find ways to bring them up to speed and keep them involved in classroom activities. In an ideal world, I would sit down with them and tutor them one-on-one. But, seeing as that is not an option, I need to go back and refresh my memory on how to handle multi-level classes.

Overall, my first week went very well and I'm very pleased with my classes. We were even able to celebrate a student's birthday on Thursday with Coca-Cola, peach & coconut cake and two rounds of the birthday song.

I think this is going to be a very good year. ;)

Venting an ear-ful

I usually try not to make a big deal about my hearing loss. After all, it is what it is. Normally I won't even tell people unless the situation absolutely calls for it. There are people much worse off than I am and I see no reason to dwell on the fact that I can only hear in my left ear.

But, I have been feeling a little frustrated over the last few days and instead of bottling up my emotions as I usually do, I thought it might be healthier to take a moment to vent them here. So please bear with me. (For those of you interested in a little backstory about my ear, you can find all the details on my other blog.)

I think most people would agree that language acquisition is difficult. There is no short way around it. It takes a willingness to learn, long hours, and motivation. As little as we think about producing our native language, it can come as a surprise just how much of an effort it takes to speak another.

Now, add to this already arduous task the issue of single-side deafness (SSD), and you have the source of my frustration. If language acquisition is hard when you have normal hearing, just think about what it entails when you can only hear a portion of what people are saying. Especially when the language you are listening to is one as rapid as Spanish where three words can often sound like one.

On Tuesday, I had my first Spanish lesson with a lovely German woman named Irma. It was my first official Spanish lesson since leaving Quito (everyday is chock full of unofficial "lessons"). For one wonderful hour, it was just the two of us in a quiet room conversing in Spanish. One of the biggest issues for people with SSD is not being able to hear when there is any sort of background noise present, so a quiet room is gold for me.

There wasn't a radio blaring on the table behind me; I didn't have a TV to contend with or multiple Spanish speakers chattering over each other; nor did I have the sounds of a bustling city preventing me from listening to every word that was being spoken. For a moment I believed once again that I really could learn this language. It was one of the few times since I've moved to Ibarra that I felt I was actually starting to "get" the language and not just muddling through.

I'm sure my host family would disagree on this point as they are kind and tell me that I'm doing well, especially my sister Fernanda. But I feel like most of the time I'm just doing an excellent job of faking it 'till I make it (and who knows when that will be). Or that I'm simply cycling through the same well-worn phrases day after day with no progress. And don't even get me started on the amount of times everyday I have to ask people to repeat themselves.

Unfortunately for me, we live in a loud world and most of the environments I'm in on a daily basis are noisy: my classroom, the dinner table, the sidewalk, the store, etc. And, unfortunately for me, I don't have the luxury of turning down the volume in any of these places.

Soo...what's a half deaf girl in a non-English speaking country to do? Take advantage of the quiet moments, I suppose. When I can clearly hear whatever it is that is being said--whether it's at my Spanish lesson or curled up in the living room with my host sister. If I can pick up enough of the language in those moments then perhaps when I'm in the not-so-quiet moments I'll be able to do a better job of deciphering whatever it is that's being said. Here's hoping anyway!

Mi Casa, Mi Hogar

Click here to see a video of my house here in Ibarra!

"Ohmigosh": An unplanned evening

Thursday night, I attended my first Ecuadorian birthday party. Which is funny since I hadn't planned to go out that night. I was all set to snuggle up with my laptop and get some prep work done for class (meaning, of course, catch up on my TV shows). I had actually just showered and booted up my computer when my host mom popped her head into my room and asked if I might be interested in attending a party for a relative with her and my sister, Karen.

Well of course I was! After all, that is what this year is all about--new experiences. So I exchanged my flannel PJs for a dress and some leggings and in less than five minutes was out the door.

As we were driving to the party, I tried to get some additional information from sister about just whose party we were going to. It turns out it was a 50th birthday celebration for my host cousin's wife's father....I think. That is, I'm pretty sure. I feel like a lot of stuff still gets lots in translation with me. But I'm getting there one step at a time.

After picking up another relative on the way, we arrived at a house on the outskirts of Ibarra a little after 8. The entire ride over I found myself becoming increasingly anxious. What on earth was I going to do at a party full of people who only speak Spanish? Would I have any idea what was going on? And what exactly does one do at an Ecua-birthday? What if I messed up some time-honored tradition and brought shame on the entire family?

Well. We arrived before my thoughts could get much further and, wouldn't you know it? Things just happened as they happen as they always do.

We met a few people outside on our way in and my host mom proudly introduced me as "mi hijita." (Let's just say that my anxiety suddenly didn't seem so overwhelming.) Then we walked through the door into a large room where all of the chairs and furniture had been pushed against the wall. Lining each wall was a row of seated relatives apparently waiting on us to get the festivities started. Before that could happen though, my mom, Karen and I had to go around and greet each person individually with either a handshake or the Ecua-greeting. (This is another Ecuadorian custom. It's very rude to enter a room without greeting everyone.) After twenty-something greetings I was practically worn out before we had even started!

At first, nothing really happened. We kind of all just sat awkwardly staring across the room at each other or making small talk with our neighbors. Someone came around and handed us small plastic cups with sparkling wine but no one took a sip. I became a little concerned that maybe I had overestimated the excitement of an Ecuadorian fiesta.

Just as I was about to lose all hope, the birthday man and his family entered. His daughter gave a beautiful speech about how much he meant to her and afterwards we all drank his health. Then she showed a short home video of pictures and quotes his family had put together for him. And then someone put on music! And the birthday man and his wife began to dance! And so did other people! And I was very happy to see that we were not going to be sitting stoically in our chairs all evening.

While the dancing began I noticed that the wife of the birthday man was slowly working her way around the room with a pitcher and what looked like a shot glass. I couldn't clearly see what was happening as my view was blocked by the dancers but I could see she was moving in our direction. Sure enough, several moments later she appeared in front of my host sister (who was seated next to me) with her pitcher of golden-ish liquid and a shot glass which also contained some of the liquid. The same shot glass, mind you, that everyone else had drunk out of. (Little Known Fact: Germs do not exist in Ecuador.)

My host sister turned to me. "Whiskey," she said and dutifully took her swig. Then it was my turn. Apparently we were toasting the the birthday man's health and it was clearly something we were all expected to do.  I followed suit and was happy to find it had at least been diluted with some water and that hopefully that was that. (If only...)

We ended up being served dinner a few moments later (and by dinner I mean a literal mountain of rice, turkey, potatoes, and a mixed vegetable salad). It was delicious but as I had been eyeing the birthday cake since we arrived, I was afraid I wasn't going to have room.

That was quickly solved once the plates were cleared. The music was turned back up to full blast and the dancing began in earnest. (Believe it or not Gangnam Style was played at one point.) I decided to just observe at the beginning. My height already made me conspicuous and I wasn't about to go out on the dance floor and make myself stand out even more by doing the wrong step.

It seemed like everyone was doing some version of a step-touch so when a mustached older relative finally asked me to dance I figured I could manage. Everyone seemed to be duly surprised that I could handle myself well on the dance floor and for the rest of the night I barely sat down. I received quite a few compliments and offers to learn more steps. I also received a nickname from the birthday man: "ohmigosh." (Said in the most valley-girl voice he could muster which made me lose it every time.) In fact, that's pretty much what I was called the entire night. It's even what he called me in his thank you speech to end the night.

During one of my brief breaks on the couch my sister and mom informed me that la hora loca would soon be upon us. From what I could decipher, it involved entertainers of some kind, masks and lots more dancing.

Also by this point, the whiskey pitcher had made its rounds so many times I had lost count. It seemed to be a bit of a game between some of the women and the birthday man (who was now the one in control of the pitcher) who would put up a fight about having to take another shot and him cajoling them that it was his birthday after all and didn't they want to wish him well?

Shortly before la hora loca the birthday wife passed out masks and cardboard ties to each of the guests. Then suddenly the room was full of balloons, confetti, a DJ, and two masked entertainers dressed in outlandish costumes. For the next hour they led the dancing which included everything from the macarena to a conga line. Some of us "lucky" ones even got pulled into the middle of the dance circle to try out a new move with one of the leaders. I couldn't help but laugh to see some of the grandparents getting down. Age was clearly not an obstacle when it came to busting a move.

After la hora loca  and the cutting of the cake (which, per Ecuadorean tradition, found part of its way onto the birthday man's face), many of the guests left. It was past midnight at this point and it was a Thursday so there would be work the next day. While we waited for my host dad to finish eating his dinner (he had arrived later and missed the meal), the last of our small group ended danced for another half an hour or so. I ended the night with a dance with the birthday man and then we finally went our way, arriving home a little after 1 o' clock in the morning.

So yes, my night had definitely not gone as planned. My "prep work" would have to wait for another day and there was a good chance I would be sleepy grading placement tests the following morning. But I had a wonderful experience and took one step closer to understanding and appreciating life here in Ecuador.

CECAMI!

Today is the last day before classes begin at CECAMI on Monday, so I took advantage of the empty campus to take a few photos and a video (click here!) for you guys. CECAMI is small but pretty and I'm so psyched about having my very own classroom.

Enjoy!

Meeting the parasites

It was bound to happen eventually. We were told to expect it. No, plan for it. It could happen at a moment’s notice and even to the well-prepared. Despite these admonitions, I was bound and determined to be the exception.

That was before yesterday morning when I woke up nauseous, feverish and weak. And , folks, I knew I had been had. Somewhere along the way, I had been infected.

Getting parasites, amoebas, worms, or some combination of the three is just simply a part of living the Ecua-life. They’re nearly impossible to avoid and no matter how careful you are, they always seem to find a way to make themselves at home in your digestive system. 

So what was my mistake? Well, I’m still not entirely sure (and probably won’t ever be), but I did rinse off a small piece of fruit in tap water…and then ate it. (gasp!) As harmless as that sounds, it’s obviously enough to wreak havoc on a gringa’s stomach.

I spent the majority of the morning moaning and groaning and heaving the few contents of my stomach into a plastic bag. My wonderful host mom, seeing my plight, whipped up a large carafe of oregano tea to help dispel the nausea. (I had never heard of this home remedy before but it definitely works.) By lunchtime I had worked through a fourth of the carafe but, aside from the lessened nausea, was only feeling mildly better.

My bestest friend...oregano tea

After a phone call with one of our WT directors, I decided it would be best to seek medical attention before things got worse. Actually, I came to this decision only after being strongly encouraged by the director to do so. I did not relish the idea of sitting in a waiting room for hours while my stomach hosted a three ring circus.

After lunch, my host mom and older sister, Fernanda, packed me up in the car (so thankful we have not one but two cars—I couldn’t imagine having to take a bus or hail a taxi in my state) and drove me to the hospital.

Now, I won’t lie. When I heard “hospital,” visions of some ramshackle, cinderblock warehouse overflowing with the sick and diseased and barely a staff or medical supplies to treat them filled my mind. Of course, this was completely ridiculous as I had seen hospitals and clinics in Quito, but what can I say? I wasn’t feeling well and my imagination was getting the best of me.

The hospital did turn out to be a bust, though not for the aforementioned reasons. Since I had neither diarrhea nor a temperature, I was deemed fit as a fiddle by the triage nurse and was told, if I so chose, that I could visit one of the local clinics to seek additional treatment. By this point, all I wanted to do was crawl up onto the nearest cot and pass out.

Thankfully, my host family was not so easily deterred. Off to the clinic we went only to be met by a long line of the sick and diseased in front of us (so maybe I wasn’t completely off). Seeing that I was going down fast, my host mom took matters into her own hands. She grabbed the first employee she could find and informed them that I was an American and needed to be treated right now. (At least, I think she said something like that. It’s difficult to translate Spanish when you’re dying.)

We were immediately directed to a traveling community health RV that was parked outside of the clinic. At first I was skeptical about just what kind of treatment I was going to find inside. After all, it didn’t really look like much—more or less a step down from a Red Cross RV. But we were met at the door by two women, one a nurse, the other a doctor, and my mind was instantly at ease.

They were young and friendly, but highly competent and, unlike the hospital, took the time to take my vitals and hear me out. I left with antibiotics, pain relievers, oral rehydration salts, and much more peace of mind. And the best part? I didn’t have to pay a dime. After going through all this, the last thing I wanted to do was have to worry about filling out paperwork for insurance.

As the day progressed, I felt increasingly more myself and by today was feeling like the old me again. Thank goodness that whatever I ended up with was only a 24 hour thing. And thank goodness it happened now and not next week when I’ll be teaching!

So will I go through this all of this again at some point this year? Most likely. And I admit, I’m not looking forward to it. But there’s some comfort in knowing that I’ve been there and made it to the other side and am none the worse for wear.

First night in Ibarra

I’ll admit that I had more trepidation about meeting my newest host family than I did about meeting my Quito family. This was largely because before I was paired with another volunteer who I knew I could rely on in times of confusion or exasperation. Here in Ibarra, I knew I was going to be totally and utterly on my own.

My anxiety was not helped by the fact that I nearly missed my taxi. Or that my host sister had to be called to verify the address because my taxi driver was clueless as to my destination. I did, however, arrive safely at my host family’s house a little before six on Saturday.

I was met at the door by my host sister, Karen, who coincidentally happens to be my age. We did the Ecua-greeting (hug & air kiss) and then she immediately grabbed two of my bags and ushered me through the front gate and into the house. As we were attempting to navigate my large bags around the car in the garage, my host mom and dad, Fernando and Monica, materialized on the stairs all hugs and smiles and a flood of Spanish goodwill. By the time we had reached my bedroom on the top floor, our party had increased by two to include my older host sister Fernanda and their cousin Veronica.

At first I felt a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people crowded around my bedroom door and the amount of Spanish being spoken all at once. I wanted to be sure that I didn't offend anyone right off the bat. After all, this was going to be my family for the next year.

As soon as my bags were put down, my host mom insisted on a tour of the house. My room was obviously the first stop where she showed me the private porch attached to my bedroom that offers me a gorgeous view of Ibarra and the surrounding mountains. (I have a feeling there will be lots of sunbathing occurring there…). My room is located on the top floor which has a bathroom (all my own!), a game area of sorts with a pool table, and a storage room. Another door leads to the roof which houses the clothesline, laundry machine, and hand washing stone (yes, hand washing your clothes is very common here). The first floor includes a kitchen, dining room, living room with bar, bathroom, two more bedrooms, and a master bedroom. It’s a very beautiful, large house, and I honestly couldn't have asked for more. 

My host mom continually asked me throughout the tour if I liked it even though I kept up a fairly steady stream of praise and admiration. (This is a very Ecua thing to do. If you think you’re being overly-effusive by American standards, you’re probably just barely skimming the surface by Ecua standards.)

Thankfully, my host mom is very perceptive and after the tour allowed me several hours to rest. I, of course, spent all of them frantically unpacking and getting things in order. (Best to just get it over and done with.)

As I was unpacking, I experienced the requisite wave of homesickness I knew was bound to come. There’s just something about that first time in a new room in a new city with a new family that gets to you. But before I could start wallowing in despair, Karen stopped by for a little bit to see how I was getting on and to chat a bit. She’s hoping to go to the states soon to live as an au pair and learn English so we joked about trying to learn each other’s language.

After my “siesta,” Karen and I walked next door to her aunt’s house where my family had gathered with their extended family for their weekly game of Bingo. Karen and I declined their offers for us to play but I enjoyed watching all of the aunts, uncles and cousins go at it in an attempt to win one of the random prizes each family had brought. My host dad won twice and received a clock and a set of religious coasters and my host mom won a basket. Apparently, I’m expected to get in on the action next week.

Around 9 o’clock, Karen, Fernanda, and I headed back to our house since they were going out to see one of their musician friends perform at a club at 10. At this point I was muy, MUY cansada so I told them I’d hang out with them until they left and then hit the hay. To my surprise, we all went to mom and dad’s bedroom to relax and prep for the evening instead of Karen’s or Fernanda’s room. (Another Ecua thing I’ll need to get used to. It’s perfectly normal for everyone to gather on mom and dad’s bed to watch TV and catch up.)

We spent the next hour doing what girls do best, chatting about guys (in Spanish of course) and painting our nails. Fernanda painted mine a brilliant shade of pink. I was quite pleased.  They also all commented on how good my Spanish was (but I think I’m just really good at pretending I know what’s going on).

While speaking Spanish all the time is fantastic practice, it’s can also be quite exhausting. I’m so thankful that Fernanda speaks great English. Sometimes it’s just too much work to figure out how to say, “Where can I hang up my clothes?” when your brain is completely fried from everything else. 

I will need to be careful not to always revert to English around her though. I feel like it’ll be far too tempting at times and I will be seriously upset with myself if my Spanish has not greatly improved by the end of the year.

Rubbernecking, Ecua-style

This past Saturday was my last day in Quito. After an intense month of orientation and an amazing Italian farewell dinner at Cosa Nostra, we volunteers went our separate ways to start our journeys to our placement sites.

My travel plans involved taking a shared taxi from Quito to Ibarra Saturday afternoon. The taxi was to pick me up at my door, load my luggage, and take me on my way. Excellent news for my scrawny arms which were not looking forward to hauling my two fifty pound bags. 

Unfortunately, when the taxi company was given my address, I was informed that I lived “too far south of the city” and would need to find my own transportation to their taxi stand in downtown Quito. Seeing me saddled down with two large suitcases, a duffle bag, backpack, and guitar, my host brother, Daniel, kindly offered to drive me to Taxi Lagos.

Daniel assured me that the taxi stand was not far from our house and that we didn't need to leave until 1:40. Since I had absolutely no idea where we were going I saw no reason to argue. It wasn't until we were on the highway in bumper to bumper traffic that I began to question his timing.

He assured me that when he was on the highway that morning there hadn't been any traffic. He seemed to be just as bewildered as I was as to why on a Saturday afternoon we were stuck in what appeared to be the throes of rush hour.

We both immediately assumed that there had to have been an accident somewhere causing the holdup. However, we couldn't see any wreckage or hear the shrill wailing of sirens. We continued to creep along the highway when suddenly we began to see one…two…four, five…eight, then ten or more cars parked along the side of the highway with their flashers on.

“Si,” Daniel abruptly said. “Es un accidente.” I glanced sideways at him as, yes, the cars were all stopped on the side of the road but none of them appeared to be damaged and they certainly weren't close enough to suggest some kind of pileup.  I tried to peer further down the highway to see if I was missing something but aside from the line of parked cars, there was nothing to see.

The line of cars continued to grow in length as we drove further down the road. And that’s when I saw them. A mass of people standing along the right side of our lane peering down into a deep ravine. No one seemed to be doing anything except gawking at whoever or whatever lay at the bottom of the slope. Clearly, something terrible had happened and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to leave one’s car to find out just what it was.

Once we passed the group of bystanders (and their cars) the traffic immediately vanished and we were finally able to move our speedometer past 2 mph. I breathed a sigh of relief hoping that maybe I would still make my 2:15 taxi.

But, as luck would have it, our route took us in a loop around to the other side of the ravine where, again, we were met by another line of parked cars and another group of rubberneckers. I watched astonished as one woman who had just parked her car launched herself from her vehicle, grabbed her children and rushed to the edge of the scene. I looked around the melee half expecting vendors to materialize hawking popcorn and souvenirs.

I’m still not exactly sure who or what fell into the ravine (I could only see so much from my car window) but I couldn't believe the extent to which people here in Ecuador went to rubberneck. In the states we all moan and groan when traffic is backed up because everyone and their mother has to slow down to 25 mph to get a glimpse of who is inside of the ambulance. But we all (usually) remain in our cars and keep the wheels on our car moving.

In Ecuador, an accident is a obviously a perfectly valid excuse to park your car, grab your children and grandmother, and spend the next half hour or more watching the drama unfold. 

Today I climbed an active volcano...

...and it was by far the hardest physical thing I've ever done in my life. While I was precariously clinging to the rocky peak of Pichincha this very afternoon, I asked myself for the umpteenth time why on earth I had thought this was a good idea less than 24 hours ago.

The day started off well enough. Me and the two other volunteers who had decided to climb Pichincha, Tommy and Phil, all arrived excited and on time at our designated meeting point. The sun was shining and we were all in high spirits to begin our volcanic adventure.

A short taxi ride brought us to the Teloferico, one of the highest aerial lifts in the world that would take us over 13,000 feet above sea level to where we would start our hike up the volcano. Tommy and I are both afraid of heights so our ten minute ride up the mountain was tense to say the least. Phil, however, couldn't seem to get enough of the view. He refused to sit still and kept our little car swinging from side to side in spite of my and Tommy's fearful protests. I admit, though, the view was breathtaking and at times even I forgot just how high our cable car was hanging over the deep ravines in the mountain.

Thankfully, we arrived at the top without incident and after a quick bathroom break and a picture at one of the scenic viewpoints we set off.

After three weeks of acclimatizing to Quito's high altitude we figured that although the hike would be challenging it would certainly be doable. That was until we encountered our first hill anyway. It was shocking how quickly our little hearts began to race and our breathing grew short. We immediately began to question the sanity of our decision as we stood panting at the top. Could we really handle several more hours of this both up and then back down the mountain?

Our small group rallied though and, seeing other hikers further down the path, decided that we would not be so easily beaten. The next two hours on the trail were actually quite enjoyable. We stopped for two minute breaks whenever needed and made good use of our cameras to capture the insane views that surrounded us on all sides. It was incredible being so close to the sky. I knew that if I only stood on my tiptoes and reached just high enough my fingertips would brush the clouds.

We continued happily along but by the two hour mark, the trail became much steeper and narrower and the possibility of falling off the mountain was becoming much more of a reality. While my fear of heights had subsided once we had exited the Teloferico, they now came rushing back.

The temperature had also dropped and while the rest of me was sufficiently warm my fingers were starting to get quite cold. I kicked myself yet again for not taking the time to grab my gloves that morning. Still, my pockets were warm and we assumed that by this point we must be nearing the end of our hike so I pressed onward.

Sure enough, moments later we found ourselves face to face with a rock wall and a trail that had apparently dead ended. We congratulated ourselves for making the distance and I quietly celebrated that soon my hands would be wrapped around a warm cup of tea.

A group of Germans that we had encountered earlier along the trail kindly took our pictures and then informed us that no, we needed to scale the rock wall behind us and pick up the trail that continued on the other side.

I'll admit that by this point I was more than ready to throw in the towel. My poor heart and lungs had never been worked so hard in their life and my fingers were rapidly starting to lose their color. The boys, however, insisted that we not let the volcano defeat us and, following the Germans lead, scrambled over the rock and left me contemplating whether to continue or turn back.

As I wavered back and forth, I looked up to see one of the German guys patiently waiting halfway up the wall with his hand outstretched to assist me in my climb. The thoughtfulness of this total stranger pushed me off my fence and motivated me to make it to the top at all costs.

I rejoined Phil and Tommy and the rest of the German gang and together we began the final ascent up Pichincha. It was this final part that was the most strenuous and pushed me farther than I've ever been physically.

At this point in our hike, we had reached 15,000 feet above sea level and still had a couple hundred feet to go. I had foolishly assumed earlier that the air could not possibly get any thinner. I was wrong. Whereas before we could walk quite far without taking a break, we soon reached a point where every three or four steps we had to stop to catch our breath which, at this altitude, we couldn't ever really catch.

Along with the increasingly thin air, the trail became increasingly dangerous. The hard packed dirt we had been hiking on turned suddenly turned into sand that provided our shoes with very little, if any, traction. Interspersed among the sand were rocky crags that became more present the closer we got to the top. It became more and more difficult to find a secure path to the peak.

If this weren't enough, my fingers had lost all of their color and most of their feeling by this point. The boys had kindly been taking turns rubbing my hands every few yards when we paused for a break but even between their efforts and keeping my hands inside of my shirt, nothing seemed to be able to revive them. I'll admit that several times I was on the brink of tears from the pain. (And of course there was the irrational little voice inside of my head insisting that I was going to get frostbite and was sure to lose all of my fingers, which was not helping matters.) On a more practical note, though, it made gripping the rocks on my climb upward incredibly challenging.

While fearless Phil had been keeping pace with the Germans for the entirety of the ascent and was further ahead, Tommy and I chose a more moderate speed and continued to encourage each other to keep moving as we struggled our way up the rocks. I remember gasping out to Tommy several times that "I can't go any further" and him repeating that we would not let the mountain defeat us.

Painfully slowly, we hauled ourselves up a couple more feet and seated ourselves a short distance below the peak. We were literally in the clouds at this point and the visibility was very poor. While we could hear and faintly see people a little ways above us, we couldn't see a way to the absolute peak without having to descend from where we were and trying a different ascent. Two of the German girls were sitting near us and they too concluded that it would be too dangerous and exhausting to try and navigate the last several feet to the top from where we were.

So we had made it. We had reached the top of Pichincha in spite of everything and even though I didn't get my picture with the sign on the top, I felt an immense sense of pride and accomplishment. I had just climbed a volcano!

If you look at my thumb on the left you can see just how little circulation I had in my hands. It was much worse in the rest of my fingers which were completely white by this point.

And the view from the top...unbelievable! No matter how crummy you were feeling, when the clouds cleared for a moment and you could look down on Quito you literally felt on top of the world, physically and emotionally.

But the adventure wasn't over yet. We still had to get down the mountain. And this proved to be just as difficult as getting up there. The sand that had proven so difficult to climb up now sent us sliding down the volcano with little to slow us down or break our fall. I spent the majority of the descent from the peak sliding on my bottom to keep from picking up too much momentum.

Once we got past the sand, we stopped for a moment on a ledge to catch our breath and thank the Lord that we hadn't rolled to our deaths. It was while we were sitting here that we met up with another group of hikers and their tour guide. Seeing Tommy frantically rub my hands together to bring some color back to them, one of the hikers offered me a cup of hot tea from his Thermos and   yet another offered me his gloves to wear. Once again, I was completely taken aback by the kindness of these total strangers. It is truly amazing the way we humans bond together in trying situations.

Between the tea and the gloves I began to feel the slightest tingle in my fingers again. (I hadn't been able to feel anything in them up to this point.) My spirits immediately began to lift and we set off down the mountain again with this group.

We began to pick up the pace as we grew closer to the bottom and as the trail became easier to navigate. The finish line was clearly in sight! However, as we entered the home stretch, it began to rain. It started out as a light, refreshing mist but soon turned into a downpour. Even with my umbrella my shoes, pants, and backpack were soon quite wet and the rain was running off my umbrella in rivulets.

It didn't put a damper on our excitement at nearly being "home" though. If anything, we were thankful for the dampness which packed down the loose dirt on the trail and made navigating down the hills much easier.

An hour after we began our descent, we found ourselves at the Teloferico once again. Exhausted, wet, and out of breath but immensely proud of ourselves for what we had just accomplished. The mountain had not defeated us.

So, will I climb another volcano again over 15,000 feet above sea level? Probably not. (...well, maybe...) Am I glad that I took a chance and challenged myself to do something new? Most definitely yes! Does it make for a great story? That's up to you. Leave me a comment and let me know if you thought so.

Chao!

Pictures!!

I know so many people have been requesting pictures of Quito so I apologize for the delay in getting these posted. It's just that between our nine hour orientation sessions and me not wanting to have my camera on me on a daily basis, it took me awhile to accumulate photos.

Yesterday our group of volunteers took a bus tour of Quito so most of the pictures in the album are from that excursion. You'll get to see pictures of el centro historico, La Virgen de Quito, and tons of pictures of mountains (I can't get enough!). Today my host brother, two other volunteers and I also visited La Mitad del Mundo (the middle of the world) so the album also has a few pictures from that little adventure. (You'll even get to see a picture of a very unique Ecuadorian dish, cuy, which is roasted guinea pig).

Quito Photo Album

Enjoy!

First week impressions

I made it, guys! After three pretty uneventful flights, myself and the rest of the WorldTeach volunteers arrived safe and sound (and exhausted out of our minds) this past Sunday. Since then we've spent an intense week of daily nine hour orientation sessions covering everything from health and safety to how to prepare for teaching to what cultural differences to expect here in Ecuador.

I would definitely be lying if I said that I haven't felt overwhelmed at some point nearly every day this week. Not because Quito is a terrifying place or because everything seems so different, but because we've been introduced to so much new information at one time. I know it's simply to ensure that we are well prepared but at the same time (ohmigoodness!) it is a lot to digest at in a very short time period.

Take this week for example. The first few sessions covered safety in Quito, so we learned everything we need to know to prevent being pickpocketed, mugged, drugged, express kidnapped (that deserves a whole 'nother blog entry), etc. during our month here. While most of the information is just typical common sense to use while in a big city, it was a bit frightening to hear it all at once more or less as soon as we had stepped off the plane. And then there was our health session which covered all of the different ways we could get sick while we're here (and how we shouldn't be surprised if at some time this year we poop out a worm...yes.)

As the days have passed, though, I've grown much more comfortable in my new city. Yes, we take certain precautions (like keeping our valuables in our bras--that's definitely a new experience) and staying aware of our surroundings, but it would be a shame to miss out on all that Quito has to offer because we're too afraid to go out and enjoy it.

And there is so much here to enjoy! For me, the natural beauty of this area is by far my favorite thing about Quito. I've never lived in or near mountains and to be surrounded by so many (and a few active volcanoes) is absolutely breathtaking. I especially love to look out over the city at night when all of the surrounding mountains are lit up by thousands of tiny lights. It's like Christmas at every sunset.

The house I'm staying at is located more on the outskirts of Quito near the top of one the hills/mountains so every morning as I walk to the bus stop I have an amazing view of the landscape. My host family consists of my host mom, Celia; her grown son, Daniel; and her daughter, Evelyn, and her husband and 2-year-old daughter who live down the street on the same block. Celia is actually more of our host grandma since she is in her 70s but she is quite spunky and is a wonderful cook. Daniel teaches in the tourism department at a local university and works a few days out of the week at resort on the coast where he takes groups of students out rock climbing, zip-lining, and on other outdoor excursions. He is an avid biker (which is amazing seeing as how all of the roads here are insanely steep) and is also an amazing tour guide. Yesterday, he took us out to el centro historico, which contains many of the government buildings, including the president's house, and quite a few churches, and took us to see the giant statue of the Virgin of Quito located at the top of one of the mountains here. He's also very protective of his host sisters (myself and the other volunteer living here, Elizabeth) and was kind enough to escort us to and from orientation this week until we got the hang of the bus system.

I have been pleasantly surprised with how much I am able to communicate in Spanish. I thought for sure I would be completely and utterly lost the first few weeks of orientation. What has certainly helped is that Quitenos tend to speak much slower than, say, Mexicans, or even Ecuadorians who live on the coast. So it's generally easier to pick out familiar words and phrases and make educated guesses about the meaning from there. Also, our first day we all took a Spanish placement test and were placed into Spanish classes for the duration of our orientation. I was placed in the intermediate group (which is the largest...and the most fun) and each day we spend an hour with our Spanish teacher, Amparo. Our host brother is also very keen on getting us to learn and speak the language so each night after dinner we typically spend an hour or so chatting with him.

Let's see...que mas? Like I mentioned earlier, this week has very much been "information overload" and I could probably write several entries on all that I have seen, heard, learned and experienced since arriving here. There have been the little adjustments I've had to make, like throwing my toilet paper in a wastebasket and not a toilet, learning to use an electric shower, making do without hot water, and doubling my bra as my purse.

And then of course there are the larger adjustments to living in a developing country. Overall, I'm finding myself quite taken with Ecuador. We've been lucky enough to have a whole week without rain (during the rainy season!) and the temperatures generally stay in the 70s during the day and the 50s at night. Yet, as with any city, Quito has its high points and its lows. Poverty permeates nearly every aspect of the city and wherever you go, you are constantly reminded that you are no longer in a first world country. But, simultaneously, there is so much to learn about Ecuadorian culture, so much Ecuadorian hospitality to experience, so much natural beauty to go out and enjoy that I'm finding each day that I notice those things less and less. It will be interesting to see how my perspective will have changed between now and by the end of my year here.

If there is anything specific you'd like to know about my first week or my first impressions of Quito, just leave a comment below and I'll be sure to respond. There's a lot I didn't mention so feel free to ask away! Also, I know several people have asked about pictures and I promise those will be forthcoming.

Chao!

"Nos vemos pronto!"

That's how our field directors signed their email to us today.

"Nos vemos pronto!" We'll see you soon! 

And you want to know what's crazy?

We will see them soon.
Very soon.
Four days to be exact.

Since sending in my application in May it seems like I've done nothing but anticipate this trip. I mean I couldn't believe that I was finally going to South America! But after nine months of said anticipation, you find that you have no idea what to do with yourself once the big day actually rolls around. It's one thing to chatter on and on about all the "what ifs" and "can't wait tos" but, hold the phone!, what does packing up and moving to a Spanish speaking country for a year actually entail? Now that I have less than a week, I guess it's time to answer that question!

I am happy to say that I've at least gotten over most of my pre-departure nerves. Instead of the previous 50-50 split between excitement and nerves, I'd say it's now more of a 90-10. As more and more of the blanks about my trip are getting filled in and I've been able to be more proactive in my preparations, I've found myself focusing more on what an incredible opportunity this is and less on fearfully wondering just what I'm going to encounter when I arrive.

So let me fill you in on what's going to be going down over these next few days/weeks.

This Sunday, February 17th, me and the rest of the gang will be flying into Miami, FL to meet up for our pre-departure orientation. I'm not entirely sure what this orientation consists of but I'm assuming lots of important information to start our year off on the right foot. We'll be spending the night at a hotel in Miami and then will be up at 2:00am (won't be much of a night) to catch our flight to Bogota and then on to Quito where we're expected to arrive at 10:00am should all go as planned. From there, we'll head to our hotel where we'll jump right into our first session of orientation that afternoon. The following evening our host families have been invited to a BBQ hosted by WorldTeach where they will meet us and then take us home. (I keep getting images of our group of volunteers as little, lost orphans hoping some sweet family will come along and adopt us.)

The host families we'll be meeting on Tuesday will serve as our host families only for the duration of orientation. We'll each be placed with a new family once we leave for our placement sites. We still don't know who we'll be living with but were assured by our field directors that they are working hard to find us each great families and that we'll find out once we're in-country. While we're waiting on the specifics, we've been instructed to purchase gifts for our host families, preferably things that reflect our hometown/state. So my fellow Ohioans, any suggestions? (You can leave comments below.)

From February 18th to March 15th, we will be immersed in an intense one-month orientation to acclimate us to Ecuador and prepare us for teaching. Each day consists of an hour long Spanish lesson, cross-cultural adjustment training, and TEFL preparation. We've been warned that the days will be long and there's a good chance we'll all probably feel extremely overwhelmed by the end of it. However, there'll will be a few fun outings and salsa lessons (yes, salsa!) to keep things exciting. And it helps knowing that everything we'll be learning will come in useful at some point or another.

It's currently summer in Ecuador so I'm certainly looking forward to the warmer temperatures. I can honestly say I will not be homesick for mounds of snow or wind chills below freezing. I won't escape the cold entirely though since Quito is located in the highlands. We've been told that even though it might be a pleasant 75 degrees during the day, the temperatures drop drastically at night. We've all been instructed to bring layers and jackets and to not be surprised if we can see our breath once the sun sets.

In terms of keeping in touch with me while in Ecuador, I will have internet access so emailing, Facebook, and Skype are all viable options. Calling takes a bit more time and effort but can be done with some patience and a calling card. I found out that (surprise, surprise!) Ecuador is actually in the same time zone as Ohio so there won't be that awkward time difference like there was when I was in Australia. I'll also have a physical address once I'm set up with my host family and can send that information to you as well if you're interested.

Ookay...so now you know, more or less, everything I know at this point. With only four days to go, the biggest emphasis has obviously been on packing and making last minute purchases. Even though this isn't my first time packing to go abroad and even though I know what I need to pack, I still find myself dragging my feet. Anyone who knows me well knows that I hate making decisions. And there is nothing more exhausting than spending a day attempting to pack your suitcase when you second-guess every item that goes into it (which happens to be quite a few items when you're packing for a year). I've decided that I'm going to buckle down and try and get at least one of my two suitcases packed this afternoon. Or tomorrow afternoon. But soon, definitely very soon.

Considering my procrastination and the inevitable time crunch I'll find myself in, this will probably be my last entry stateside. You'll next hear from me on here when I've made it the equator! In the meantime, I will be posting status updates on the Facebook page so check there to stay informed.

Hasta pronto!

...aaand we're off again!

Oh man, how I've missed this blog. If I'm typing on here it means that I'm in (or on my way to) another country, and there's no better feeling than the start of a brand new adventure. This time my destination is a bit closer to home (no more 23 hour treks across the globe) and has been at the top of my Places I Need to Go As Soon As I Have the Time and Money list since I graduated from college. And even better, it takes me one step closer towards my goal of visiting every continent (this will make my fourth). So I'm off to...South America!

Ecuador, to be more specific. Thanks to the lovely folks at WorldTeach, I've been given the amazing opportunity to spend a school year there living and teaching English. The journey technically began back in May when I submitted my application and from there it's been a whirlwind of fundraising, researching, and preparation. I've been (somewhat) faithful in posting that information on the Facebook page I created for this trip, so just click here if you'd like to catch up.

So why South America? Well, why not, right? :) I'd have to say that one of the biggest draws for me is the culture. There's a certain warmth and vibrancy to South America and its people that doesn't seem to be replicated anywhere else. I have yet to meet anyone who has spent time there who hasn't had anything but wonderful things to say about the experiences they had and the people they met.

The language is a huge factor for me as well. Spanish has always held a special interest for me, but in spite of four years of it in high school and a semester in college, I never really progressed to a point where I could use it well. My hope in going to Ecuador is to refresh the knowledge I already have and finally reach a conversational level. I feel that in our increasingly bilingual country, it's an excellent skill to have and will certainly give my resume a needed boost.

Of course, we mustn't forget the incredible natural beauty and diversity of the continent. That alone would have won me. Take Ecuador, for example. You can travel from beaches to mountaintops to the heart of the jungle without ever leaving its borders. And compared to other South American countries like Argentina, Brazil, and Colombia, it's not even that large!

So where I will be located amidst all of this natural wonder? After much thoughtful deliberation and careful consideration, WorldTeach has placed me in Ibarra. Since they clearly know more about this city than I do, I'll simply paste here what they sent me in my introductory email:

Ibarra, the capital of Imbabura Province, is about three hours north of Quito in the northern highlands of the Sierra region. The architecture in Ibarra is well-preserved from the colonial era, the city has all of the modern conveniences, including phones and internet, and is very tranquilo overall.  The weather in Ibarra is infinitely nicer than the weather in Quito, as the sun shines during the day and a cool breeze passes through the city at night. Ibarra is located in the gorgeous northern lake region of Ecuador, and the province of Imbabura is filled with exciting activities ranging from hiking to hang gliding, so you will have tons of amazing opportunities to enjoy yourself during your free time.

Sounds pretty great, huh? I definitely couldn't be happier with my placement as I was looking for milder weather (than the hot and humid coast) and a city with plenty to do but not overwhelmingly touristy or crowded (like Quito). I feel like it has a pleasant balance that will allow me to fully immerse myself in the Ecuadorian culture while still being able to do things like Skype home whenever I'd like.

As far as my school goes, I will be teaching at CECAMI (which is short for  Centro de Capacitación Municipal de Ibarra). It is a small English school that offers open classes to anyone in the community. Because it is a small school that is run by the Municipo of Ibarra and is not affiliated with a university, I have complete control over the content of my classes and, even better, I will be given my very own classroom for the year that I can decorate and set up however I wish! While the amount of freedom I have is slightly overwhelming, I'm excited at all of the opportunities it presents (there will definitely be a lot of theater going on in my classroom!).

Even though this isn't my first time leaving the country (and, by golly, I hope it's not the last!), I still find myself having some pre-departure jitters. In spite of all the researching and planning and packing, there really is only so much you can prepare for. All the rest is just one frighteningly large unknown. I'd have to say this trip is even more intimidating than my stay in Australia since I have new challenges to consider. Like preparing to teach for the first time. And adjusting to living with a host family that I know nothing about. And learning how to get around in a non-English speaking country. And figuring out how to politely decline the offer of a generous portion of cuy (guinea pig!).

But, hey, I would expect no less from a proper adventure!

Stay tuned...

It's the final countdown...

Yes, folks, believe it or not, my year here in Sydney is coming to a swift close. Two weeks and counting. I don't know about you, but this year has absolutely flown by--and I'm not sure that I'm quite ready to say goodbye to the land of Oz just yet...Anywho, have a look at my latest (and probably last) vlog entry and let me know what you think. It's been a fantastic ride and many thanks to all of you who took it with me!



A clip from the Vivid festival at Circular Quay:

Also, for those of you who are not on Facebook, below is a public link to my photo album of Palm Beach: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/set=a.564043026757.2056485.66600965&l=a0e1fcc263

Cairns: A Trip to the Tropics

Well, folks, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that I had a wonderful time visiting Cairns (pronounced CANS) and can't wait to tell you all about it. The bad news is that I left my camera at the hostel on the second day of my trip and could only take 27 low quality pictures (thanks to my handy disposable) and no videos. Soo...what all this is means is that there will not be a video of my Cairns adventure forthcoming. I did take several video clips on the first and last day of my trip which I will put together for your viewing pleasure but I'm afraid it won't be as exciting as the videos I did for Melbourne or the Blue Mountains.
But, anywho, on to the trip!
(NOTE: Be sure to click on the pictures to get a larger view. I know some of the pictures, especially those taken with the disposable, aren't the best quality and are rather difficult to view in their smaller form.)


Day 1:
Monday was my traveling day so there's not too much to report. Thankfully, all went smoothly with my flight from Sydney to Cairns and somehow I managed to have an entire row all to myself.
The first thing I noticed when I left the plane in Cairns was the heat. While Sydney has been gradually getting cooler over the past few weeks (I have my heater on in my room as I write this) Cairns is still in the throes of summer weather. Actually, since it's the tropics it's basically always summer weather but, regardless, the heat and humidity were a welcome reprieve from the cold of Sydney.
I got to my hostel in short order, met two of my roomies and settled in as soon as possible as the tour I had booked would be at the hostel at 6.55 the next morning to pick me up.

Day 2:
I was up at the crack of dawn (6.00am) and had dressed, breakfasted and was ready to go by 6.30. At 6.45, I decided to wait outside on the steps of the hostel in case the tour bus showed up early. However, 6.55 came and went as did 7.00, 7.05, and 7.10. Finally, at 7.15 I frantically called Down Under Dive to ask where my ride was. I was politely informed that I was not being picked up but had to meet the boat at the Reef Terminal (wherever that was!) at 7.30. Apparently, the pick up time listed on my confirmation sheet was for the following day when I would be heading to the rainforest. Slightly frantic at this point (okay, maybe a slight understatement), I rushed to the front desk to get a map and directions. Much to my relief, I discovered the terminal was a short ten-minute walk from the hostel and that I would be there in plenty of time.

The docks at the Reef Terminal

The rest of the day was smooth sailing from that point (pun totally intended!). It was an absolutely gorgeous day, mid-80s with not a cloud in the sky,and perfect for a day out on the water. After being assigned a safety number and given my snorkeling gear, I settled in for our hour long ride out to the first reef. I spent most of the journey on the top deck taking in the endless miles of sun-flecked ocean and the hazy mountains slowly shrinking behind us. Standing at the bow of the ship with nothing but ocean in front of me, I  felt it, the "call of the sea." Finally, I could see why someone would leave it all behind to spend their entire life on a boat sailing the world.
We arrived at the reef around ten and, after patiently waiting my turn, I slipped on my fins and mask and slid into the balmy waters. I had never snorkeled before so it took a few moments to figure out how to breathe correctly and how to keep my already huge feet from knocking into each other. However, I quickly regained my composure, snagged a noodle and set off to explore.
I have seen my fair share of National Geographic films and Discovery Channel specials so it was a truly amazing experience to finally get up close and personal with one of the world's most spectacular natural wonders. Here I was swimming alongside parrot fish and brushing the tops of coral and peering into the insides of giant clams (some of which have been around for over 200 years). It took a good deal of concentration just to remind myself to keep breathing.

After our first swim, the crew provided us with an awesome lunch of fish, steak, prawns and sausages and then we headed to the second reef where we spent the afternoon. This time I made sure I was one of the first snorkelers in the water. This reef, unlike the first one, was much larger and hadn't suffered as much damage from the cyclone that happened earlier in the year so there was much more to see.

The second reef--if you look towards the top of the picture you'll see lighter areas which is where we snorkeled

Shortly after entering the water, one of the dive leaders asked me if I'd like a tour of the reef and I, of course, said YES! I was given a private twenty minute tour of the area and got to hold a sea cucumber and watch as he stuck his hand inside of a giant clam (which very quickly clammed up). After the tour, I went to the other side of the reef to do some of my own exploring and finish up my film. As I was methodically working my way around the edges of the reef, I felt something bump into my arm. I thought it was another snorkeler (we all kept running into each other), so I turned around so I could move out of their way. And who should I come face to face with but a jellyfish!! Yes, it was a rather small one and yes he seemed far more intent on strolling along than on killing me, but I did freak out nonetheless. As my short life flashed before my eyes, I frantically flapped my freakishly long fins and wriggled out of there as fast as I could. In spite of my terrifying encounter and being warned by the crew that it was sting ray season, I continued snorkeling and, thankfully, did not run into any other menacing creatures.


Holding some sort of sea creature...not exactly sure what, but it was harmless.

The rest of the afternoon was spent baking on the boat's sundeck and making up for lost sleep. All in all a fabulous, unforgettable day!

Day 3:
I was up again at the crack of dawn, this time knowing that there would be a bus to meet me at 6.55 to take me to the Daintree Rainforest and Cape Tribulation. However, in spite of my pre-tour preparations the previous day, once on the bus I realized that I had left my camera at the hostel. Depressed but not deterred, I decided to purchase a cheap disposable camera as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Our first stop on the tour was Port Douglas, a small oceanside town right off of Four Mile beach. There wasn't much to see here (although the beach was gorgeous) but it gave me the chance to buy a camera and a sandwich to eat later.

Four Mile Beach

Back on the bus, we began the trek to the Daintree Rainforest where the tour really began. We did a brief hike in Mossman Gorge, a beautiful region that is part of the Wet Tropics World Heritage area. The main attraction was the breathtaking views of the Mossman River, crystal clear and strewn with unbelievably large boulders it had gradually rolled down the mountainside. As if that wasn't enough to take your breath away, the lush, tropical foliage lining the river was alive with the fluttering of bright blue Ulysses butterflies.

Mossman River

As we continued on to Cape Tribulation, we passed miles and miles of sugar cane fields and the occasional banana patch (farm? plantation?). The difference in landscape and environment between Sydney and Cairns was incredible. Cape Tribulation is literally in the middle of nowhere--it is a secluded area in the middle of the Daintree National Park that is accesible by one road via ferry.We arrived around lunchtime and spent a little over an hour there eating and exploring the pristine beachline. Because it is so isolated and part of a World Heritage site, the beach's natural beauty has been preserved. As I sat on the beach eating my sandwich, I felt as though I had landed on my own little patch of paradise.



Beach @ Cape Tribulation

The tour concluded with an hour long crocodile and wildlife cruise on the Daintree River. Because of the warm weather, most of the crocs were staying cool out of sight, but we did spot one rather large female cooling herself on the riverbank.

Look closely at the center of the picture and you'll see Mrs. Croc. (Sorry for the poor quality, I'm afraid disposable cameras don't quite cut it)

Her mouth was wide open (apparently it helps them to cool down...I'm thinking she was hungrily eyeing a boat full of dinner) and I couldn't help but think what would happen to us if our boat suddenly sprung a leak. Aside from Mrs. Croc, we didn't spot much else. We did see a snake and a few tropical birds and that was pretty much it.

Day 4:
My flight didn't leave until 7.10pm so I had the entire day to kill in the meantime. I checked out of the hostel a little after nine and decided to spend the day wandering around Cairns. It's not a large or particularly beautiful city but it is right on the water and surrounded on three sides by mountains. I made sure to hit most of the touristy hot spots, including the Lagoon (a beautiful public pool right on the water's edge) and the Esplanade and even spent some time in the public library (it was hot and they had air-conditioning).

The Lagoon

I had a rather uneventful flight back to Sydney and but did get a pleasant surprise at the end of my journey. Thanks to our flight course on the way back, I was able to get a bird's eye view of Sydney at night all lit up. It was breathtaking getting to see all of the sights of the city, including the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, from a brand new perspective.

So, there you have it, folks! Cairns in a nutshell. If anyone is considering visiting this corner of the world I would most definitely suggest a trip to the Great Barrier Reef. There's nothing quite like it.
Cheers!

3 months left...

Here are a few pictures of "my girls" as promised:

Thanks so much to all of you who have kept up with my blog. I promise to post again soon!
Cheers!

Livin' the Aussie Life

Yesterday, as I looked over my schedules for work and school, I became very frustrated. Here I was living in an amazing country (no, continent!) on the other side of the world and nearly all of my evenings were already full of classes and shifts at the boarding house. When was I going to find the time to actually go out and do anything? It really doesn't help that the majority of my friends are also residents working similar hours and it is often nothing short of a miracle to find days, especially on the weekends, when we are all free. I am beginning the last leg of my stay here in Australia and part of me feels as though I could've seen so much more in a one month visit than I will have at the end of my year here. (For those of you who have been keeping up with this blog, I'm sure you realize how ridiculous this sounds considering how much I've gotten to do, but bear with me and my little pity party...)
As I was bemoaning this fact to my fellow resident, Michelle, she countered with a surprising question: "Isn't this why you came to Australia? To live here?" It took me a second, but I realized she was right. I hadn't come to Australia solely to be a tourist. I wanted to experience the real Australia with real Australians. I hadn't come for a quick jaunt through cliched Aussie tourist traps but for the day-to-day grind with all of its simple routines and minute eccentricities. To see what the everday life of an Aussie is really like. To pick up random Aussie slang and become familiar with the local haunts and treasured hole-in-the-walls. To form friendships and listen to my 8th graders tell me about their lives in the country or explain that there is no such thing as a period in Australian punctuation, "it's a full stop."
Sure, I still want to visit said tourist traps and take entirely too many photos of the Opera House, but at the end of my year here, it will be all of the little experiences that will be the most meaningful. Instead of madly racing about attempting to squeeze as much as I can into these next four months, I need to simply let each day unfold for itself. For example, I got to watch my first dragon boat race last Sunday with no scheduling or spending on my part. I just happened to have a friend who had a friend who was competing and things just fell into place. I was able to experience a brand new sport and Aussie pasttime without having to do a thing.
Now, that's not to say that I'm leaving everything to chance. I did just book my fall break trip to the Great Barrier Reef several days ago and am eagerly anticipating my first snorkeling experience and subsequent trek into an actual rainforest. And I'm hoping to take a minitrip to Central Australia in June to see Ayers Rock and the Australian outback. But overall, I 've decided to just take it as it comes. Between homework and my thesis and work (and additional work at the Junior School), attempting to find time is almost a full time job in itself. And seeing as how my visa only allows me to work 20 hours a week, that simply will not do. :)
Cheers!

My new(est) room

As promised, here is a quick vid of my new room in Vindin House. It's funny, I've only been in Sydney for a little over five months and somehow I've managed to move three times already. Anywho, hope you enjoy!

Another openin', another show

Well, folks, after much trial and tribulation I have finally arrived back in Sydney and am gearing up for my final five months here. I had no idea that getting back to the land of Oz was going to be such an...adventure, but I did arrive in one piece and, ultimately, my roundabout journey worked out for the best. For those of you who missed out on the excitement here is a brief summary (comprised entirely of incredibly long run-on sentences):
I was scheduled to leave Ohio on Tuesday, Feb. 1st but because of the insane winter storm system that swept across the states my flight was cancelled and rescheduled for Thursday evening. I spent the next two days at home in a sort of limbo and then departed Ohio on Thursday at 6:25pm and landed at LAX a little after 8pm where I discovered that I was on a standby ticket for a flight that had been overbooked. To make a long story short, after sitting at the gate for about two hours, I realized that there was no way I was going to be getting on this flight so the kind people at Delta put me up at the Hilton for the night gave me three meal vouchers and $650 Delta dollars and put me on flight with Qantas flying out Friday at midnight. Incidentally, while at the gate I met another student flying to Australia who was also stuck for the night and who I hit it off with immediately and who I ended up spending the following day with sightseeing in LA. The Qantas flight that night went off without a hitch and I arrived in Australia on Sunday morning, three days after my intended arrival date.
So now here I am in my new room in the year 8 boarding house (Vindin) getting settled and reorganized and feeling slightly jet lagged. For some odd reason, in spite of my great fatigue, I keep waking up ridiculously early which is not helping at all with said jet lag. However, I am pressing forward (and not taking naps) and staying quite busy. Since I missed the entire first week of school here at Abbotsleigh, I have to make up all of my 32 hours for the fortnightly pay period in one week. Yeah. It's actually not so bad, though. Vindin is certainly a step up from McCredie. I'm only looking after 26 girls instead of 60+. The boarders actually listen to me. Bedtime is 9:15 and the house is completely quiet by 9pm. I have a ceiling fan, etc. etc. Basically, I'm very excited about working here for the next two terms. It also helps that I have a suitemate (Sarah from the states) so when ever I get lonely she's just a walk through the bathroom away.
Speaking of loneliness, I'm definitely not experiencing the homesickness this time around that I did the first time I arrived in Sydney. Knowing that I was coming back to friends who were excitedly awaiting my arrival made the whole transition incredibly easy. It's funny how we residents have created a litte surrogate family for ourselves since we're all away from home and living on our own. Working and living here would certainly not be the same without my support network.
The weather here has been quite pleasant (and a huge change from the frozen tundra of Ohio). Apparently, when I arrived on Sunday I hit the tail end of a week-long heatwave here in Sydney. It was in the 90s all week with 80% or more humidity and when you live in houses without air conditioning, let me tell you, it is not fun. Thankfully, this week it's going to be in the mid-70s and low 80s and I couldn't be happier. Not exactly beach weather, but I enjoy not being drenched in sweat from the moment I get up until sunset.
I will be posting a video of my new room in a few days (once it's been beautified) so keep an eye out for that and of course I'll be putting up regular updates, videos and pictures.
So fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gents, 'cause here we go again!
Cheers!

Whatta week!

I believe that I've seen more of Sydney in this past week than I have in the last four months. Now that I'm free of school, my schedule has opened up considerably and I've been making good use of the empty hours. This week was an absolute whirlwind of activity so I'll attempt to sum up (very briefly) exactly what I got up to.

Monday:
Sarah and I hit the city to see the massive Christmas tree at the Queen Victoria Building (it's a massive shopping center) and then had tapas at a little Spanish cafe off of George St. (that's the main avenue in Sydney). Afterwards, it was off to Darling Harbour for a mini-stroll and some sunning on the boardwalk. As we were sitting overlooking the water, not only did we see plenty of fish but an entire swarm of jellyfish! (It's the first time I've seen a jellyfish outside of an aquarium.)
After our marine life experience, we walked to the Sydney Fish Market where I had passionfruit for the first time (it was clearly a day of firsts). We then headed back into the city to meet up with Michelle who had just finished her last exam (and her undergraduate degree) and proceeded to wander around the city for over an hour trying to find her university's campus. It was extremely frustrating as we basically walked in a massive circle and backtracked more times than we could count--but we did get to see another part of the city.

Underneath the tree at the QVB

Tuesday:
Although I had been planning a day trip to Canberra with Jess, we decided at the last minute that driving to Canberra and back in one day might be a bit too much for us to handle. So instead we headed to the coastal city of Wollongong (pronounced WOOL-on-gong, not WALL-on-gong). We drove through miles of Australian bush (I still didn't see a kangaroo, unless you count the dead one on the side of the road) and then wound our way down the side of a mountain with the ocean and Wollongong spread out beneath us. I felt like a puppy with my head stuck out the window taking in the view and making tiny squeaks of excitement. We spent a solid couple of hours sunning ourselves on the beach and then took a walk around to take in our surroundings. There really isn't much in Wollongong but we stopped by the harbour, ate a quick lunch at the lighthouse, made an even quicker detour at the Vietnam Memorial, and then stopped at another beach for a short stroll. I still can't get over how clear the water is here!



One of the beaches at Wollongong--you can see the lighthouse in the distance.

 Wednesday:
I finally got in touch with one of my uni friends, Mary, who I hadn't seen since the beginning of the semester, and we decided to meet up in Canley Vale and spend the day together. Canley Vale is one of the western suburbs of the city and has a large Vietnamese population, hence the nickname "Little Vietnam." It's chock full of shops and restaurants serving everything from Thai to Chinese to fast-food fried chicken. Mary, who is Vietnamese, decided I need to experience a little bit of Vietnam and so took me on a guided tour around the area. She bought me a cup of sugar cane juice to try and then took me to a little hole in the wall where we had yum cha for lunch. Yum cha is actually more of a Chinese thing but, ethnicities aside, it was delicious. For those of you who have never had yum cha, you sit down at a table and the waitresses bring around trolleys or platters of different "hors d'oeuvres" (things like dumplings, for example) and you pick and choose which ones you want. I don't remember everything we ate but I really enjoyed the Chinese broccoli in oyster sauce, the seafood roll, and the dumplings.
But my food-tasting experience was not to end there. Afterwards, I bought che which is a Vietnamese dessert drink made from coconut milk, sugar, and your choice of ingredients which can be anything from tapioca to corn to jelly to avocados. I had no idea what would taste good (I mean corn and jelly and coconut milk?) so Mary chose for me. Surprisingly, it was much yummier than I anticipated, although much too sweet for me to finish the entire thing. (check out the pictue to see what it looked like)
As I was recounting to a shocked Mary how I had just had my first passionfruit earlier that week, she decided that my limited knowledge of fruit needed to be broadened and took me to a nearby market where we bought lychees, rambutans, and longans. They are all very similar fruits with hard exteriors and insides that look like peeled grapes. My favorite were the rambutans which resembled tiny sea anemones and tasted a bit like apples.
We spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies at Mary's flat with her friend Richard and then headed to Bankstown for dinner where we had pho (pronounced fuh) which is the national soup of Vietnam. It's a noodle soup served in a massive bowl (think the size of your head) with either beef or chicken. You can actually order the beef raw and place it in your soup where it will "cook." (Needless to say, I ordered my beef well done!) Then you dress up your soup however you want it with chili, hoisin sauce, bean sprouts, and basil. Seeing as I was the only non-Asian at the table the waitress gave me a fork but as I'd already eaten lunch with chopsticks, I went ahead and wielded them like a pro with the rest of them.
Dinner was followed by a trip to Leichardt, the "Little Italy" of Sydney, where we had iced chocolate at Bar Italia. The drink was amazing and the entire experience was made considerably funnier when a slightly tipsy older man at the counter exclaimed that I was a "gorgeous Asian-looking half-caste" and invited me to share his table. We finished the day with a walk to the Italian Forum which is a re-creation of an Italian square complete with fountain and gelato shop.

Me and my che

Thursday:
After the beachwalk I did from Bondi to Bronte when I first arrived here, I've been dying to do another. So Thursday Michelle and I decided to walk from Taronga Zoo to Balmoral beach. We took the train into the city and then a ferry across the harbour to the zoo. During our ferry trip I learned from Michelle that there are, in fact, sharks in the harbour as they like shallow waters to breed and feed (!!). Our first stop on our walk was Athol Beach which is a tiny private cove right off the pathway. Of course, I did little more than dip my toes in the water as I anxiously scanned the horizon for menacing fins. (Thankfully, the only wildlife we encountered were several iguanas along the trail. At least, I think they were iguanas. Have a look at the pic to decide for yourself.)
Halfway through our trek we had to take a detour as work was being done on the trail and took a series of residential streets to Clifton Gardens, another beach. Then, back on the pathway, we hiked to George's Head, a lookout point over the harbour which served as a fort back in the 1800s and offered us a fantastic view of the city skyline. We made it to Balmoral beach around noon where I took my first plunge into the ocean (shark fears aside) since my arrival in Sydney. The water was frigid but I stuck it out for a solid 30 minutes. We stopped later for fish and chips and then it was back to school to work the evening shift.

Michelle at Athol Beach, our first stop on the beachwalk

Friend or foe?

Friday:
I decided that Sarah needed to visit Dee Why as it is quickly becoming my favorite beach (so far) and, hoping we could find our way there via train and bus (I've only been there by car), we packed up our things after lunch and headed out. I've already mentioned Dee Why in a previous post so I don't have much to add except that this time was my first time getting in the water there (not counting the times I've done a little wading). Sarah and I braved the waves and did a little body surfing despite the fact that it was overcast and not very warm.
Saturday:
Having been told about Newtown, Sydney's artsy suburb, Sarah and I figured that a day trip to said area was in order. We did our research beforehand and decided we'd grab lunch there and have a look around. The main street, King St., is a virtual melting pot. You can find a restaurant serving African cuisine right next to a shop selling exotic Himalayan wares. There's an incredible amount of secondhand bookstores and retro clothing boutiques. The entire area has the same funky, eccentric vibe as Fitzroy in Melbourne. We had lunch at The Italian Bowl (which our city guide recommended and for good reason) and dessert at Gelatomassi which serves some of the best gelato in Sydney. The rest of the afternoon was spent window shopping (since there was little we could actually afford) and then a relaxing train ride home.

So there you have it, folks--my exciting, jam-packed week. I realize it's not the most in-depth or coherent entry I've written so you'll just have to interrogate me when I get home. :o) Now that I'm down to only seven days before my departure, this may very well be my last entry to conclude the first half of my stay here. So I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and I'll see you soon!
Cheers!