Pura Vida And A Brief Apology

Breakfast is sincerely lacking here in Ecuador, in the this small seaside gringo haven of Sua, from both my stomach and the towns limited eateries, but I will find the time to ignore my impatient group members and pound this out while I can.

Up to this moment, the stifling heat has yet to really bother me, and the bus rides, very sardine can-like, have actually been quite enjoyable.

I have, in fact, enjoyed nearly every minute so far.

And the key to it all has been, I believe, adapting the role of what Robin, one of our fearless leaders, would describe as a "participant observer". Because this experience can be so very much like camp in the way that there will always, always be drama and disagreements, groups and solitary wanderers, and in the midst of it all I aim to be immersed and apart.

Where do I begin after this long delay?

I will start at the present, because to backtrack now would only perpetuate my already undesirable situation of reliving all these moments, and will allow me the time to muse on Orientation and my preconceived notions of people dashed (or fulfilled).

From Bua, one of seven functioning Tsachila communities in Ecuador, we took a five-hour bus journey to the small seaside village of Sua, though I doubt there is any real connection between the names.

During the bus ride, I sat next to Sean, affectionately dubbed Frodo by a handful of us in regards to his unruly, Hobbit-like hair, and we read articles from Adbusters about China in the darkling glow of the evening as we passed through cookie-cutter Ecuadorian city-towns which all have the same basic landmarks: nook after nook of CABINAS flagged by a stripe of red paint and the letters outlined in white, naturally with only one functioning international telephone; whole streets of cart vendors who will stubbornly sell the exact same goods and snacks at exactly the same prices in close proximity to one another, skeletal outlines of re-bar and concrete that mark government housing in five-to-ten-year purgatories of incompletion, and a centrally-oriented park which always far outdoes the town itself in regards to cleanliness and is entirely deserted until nightfall when four-year-olds mount ATVs and uniformed schoolboys and girls emerge in droves to mingle outside of campus walls in the dim obscurity of an Equatorial evening.

Sua is hardly different, though in a way it reminds me of what I hope Avila will never be. Bar-huts competing for the attention of travel-fatigued foreigners dot the street parallel to the ocean, which is turquoise and relatively empty this time of year. Most bar-huts have second levels which, equipped with black lights and re calibrated PA systems, function as miniature clubs during the evening. Despite the fact that each of these institutions are no more than 6 or 7 feet away from one another, the air around them pulses with the music they use to draw the gringos in. It appears to usually be a successful combination (cheap alcohol, close proximity to salt water, and loud reggaeton) for most Westerners, as we discovered on our way home from dinner last night (an excellent typical Ecuadorian meal of perfectly seasoned beef, rice, and beans, although lacking in soup which is usually the go-to accompaniment). A young blond woman, part of the group of foreigners we hailed on our way in, staggered over to the entrance of our lodging, Hostal de las Bougainvilleas, and invited us to join her and her friends for a night of revelry. Unfortunately, even the prospect of "a gringo party in one of those hut things" was not an adequate nightcap for us sober travelers. I opted, instead, to beeline for my room, in which I share a double bed with Katie and enjoy the luxuries of a pillow and functioning shower.

And all I really desire is food. Belgian waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, buttermilk pancakes and Aunt Jemima´s maple syrup.... It´s often said in TBB company that the first thing you miss is food. I really can´t argue with that. But... it seems that proximity is a detrimental concept in many situations as well... As much as I enjoy our group and our shimmering differences, there will always be moments in observation or confrontation where I can´t help but feel as though I tremendously miss Midland and the easy assimilation of Midland life and culture. This experience, however, is perpetually about the present and the future, and it is only our reflections on the past and how it has shaped us that should be weighing on our minds. Though, that mindset is something I have yet to truly accept, on this journey at any rate.

I have optimism. And ample interest. And a conviction that this is more than a vacation and much more than a mission of faith than it is of hope and growth.

News of Bua and its own little wonders will come in little time, as access to internet is both frequent and prevalent here in Sua, and I will attempt to make use of it often.

As for now, I am in search of a baño. And waffles.

Pura Vida