Si, lo hablo

Jonathan:

I distinctly remember a conversation I had with a friend only a few weeks before we left on this trip in which I boldly stated that I was on the verge of being conversational in Spanish. I'm not really sure where I got that idea - Maybe it was my impressive ability to fluidly ask where the bathroom was, or my deep knowledge of Spanish numbers and colors that gave me my confidence. I can't be sure. Regardless, It took me less than three weeks of traveling through northern Mexico to discover the vast reality of complex grammar and idiomatic nuances that my 2 years of high school Spanish had somehow failed to touch on.

 

When we decided to enroll in classes in Guanajuato 6 months ago, I genuinely thought that two weeks of studying would be just the kick-start we would need to propel ourselves into a frenzy of high-octane learning on the street - I thought we'd be fluent in no time. Well, it turned out that two weeks were barely enough time for me to learn how to say "the more I learn, the more I realize I don't know" (Mientras más aprendo, más sé lo que no sé)... and I meant it.

 

When I look back on the roller coaster ride of confidence and self-doubt that both Megan and I have been through with learning Spanish over the past 7 months, I can't help but smile. Each school experience has propelled our grasp of the language to new levels of depth and complexity, while at the same time shedding light on overwhelming tracts of unexplored territory. It's been hard to measure our progress because with every milestone we reach, the finish line seems to slip further off into the distance. Days of confident in-depth conversation are almost always followed by days where we barely understand what we've just ordered.

 

I've heard that there are several tell-tale signs of being fluent in a new language - when you start thinking or dreaming in it, or when you start to understand jokes. Normally when people ask me if I speak Spanish, I respond with one of several rehearsed responses like, "well, I speak a little," or "we're still learning." These simple responses are usually enough to solicit an enthusiastic nod of approval and sometimes a comment or two that I can't quite catch.

Somewhere in the north of Peru however, I noticed a distinct change in myself. Lately when someone asks if I speak Spanish, for some reason I've simply been saying, "yes. I do." It's not something I started doing on purpose, but the shift in self-perception feels significant. I'm certainly not dreaming in Spanish yet, so I'm not sure where this milestone fits into the quest to be fluent. We will probably continue to have our ups and downs, good days and bad, but for the first time since we left home the horizon seems to be creeping closer.

After a couple of brief sightseeing stops in Lima and Nazca on our way south, we've just completed our first week of studying Spanish in Cusco, Peru. So far we've both been having a fabulous experience with the program, and our latest local "family." Our conversations are becoming more fluid each day, and I have no doubt that from here on it will only become more comfortable to say, "Si, lo hablo."

 

 

 

Such great heights

Megan:
Almost all of our time since our last post has been filled exploring the natural beauty of the Peruvian Andes. About a week and a half ago, we arrived in Huaraz, Peru which has served as our base camp for exploring the stunning Parque Nacional Huascarán. After checking into one of the most beautiful and well-kept hotels of our trip, we set out to explore this high-altitude backpacker haven. We spent some time talking to a few tour companies and other travelers about various trails and decided to tackle the famous 4-day Santa Cruz trek in the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. We were accompanied by our guide Marco, six other eager travelers with varying levels of wilderness experience, and four triumphant donkeys (Blanca, Carlos, Daniel and Pancho).

The scenery in the Cordillera Blanca was jaw-dropping to say the least. Our days were filled hiking through immense valleys of golden grasses, traversing rivers and climbing closer and closer to the glaciers that soar 20,000 ft above. This was the first time I had seen a glacier, and let me tell you, these magnificent towers of ice and rock created a very different feeling for me than any other mountain landscape I'd seen. The sheer contrast of jet-black rock with blueish-white ice and snow was breathtaking. We spent our second afternoon watching the lighting and clouds that surrounded the highest peak continually change. The scenery just kept getting more beautiful, until the sun lit up the clouds with the last of the day's warmth as it slipped behind the ridge and darkness took over.

Our highest pass of 15,500 ft was enveloped in clouds by the time we reached the top - creating a kind of unknown abyss on the opposite side of the ridge as we began to work our way down. Our next campsite at 14,000 ft. actually felt comfortable and sheltered after being face to face with the rugged glaciers above.

When we were not out experiencing the natural beauty of this area, we were enjoying the comforts of our hotel bed...not so much by choice, but more out of necessity. That's right, Jon and I took turns with a stomach bug, but luckily these latest episodes were relatively minor and well-timed - mine was before our trek and Jon's was after we returned. I am pleased to report that today we are both feeling 'normal,' so I think the worst of it is behind us.

It's a little difficult to say goodbye to such a beautiful mountain backdrop, but tomorrow night we'll be boarding a bus for Lima, the bustling capital of Peru. We're ready to see what this city has to offer, even though I expect it will be a pretty stark contrast to the rugged natural beauty we've come to love here.

Moving on

Jonathan:
Our final days in Quito were a hectic mix of cramming in as much quality time with our Ecuadorian family as we could, and checking off the last few museums and sites around town we'd somehow managed to neglect throughout our time there. One of the highlights was an afternoon we spent exploring the museum & gallery of world renowned Ecuadorian painter and sculptor Guayasamín. We were fortunate enough to be accompanied by a thoughtful and articulate guide who provided fascinating insights into the haunting style, and politically charged subject matter of his work.

Our last afternoon was spent at home with our family making homemade humitas - a rich and flavorful Ecuadorian version of the tamale, and something Guadalupe (our "mom") had been promising to teach us to make since we arrived. We shucked corn, cranked grinders, laughed and played together, savoring the final few hours we had to enjoy each other's company. Megan's and my departure that night brought with it a heavy mix of tears, hugs, fond wishes, and heartfelt promises to stay in touch.

After a long trip on a rough night bus, our first stop was the southern Ecuadorian city of Cuenca. We enjoyed exploring the richly textured cobbled streets, and we did our best to readjust to finding restaurants and hotels again after almost six weeks of not having to fend for ourselves. The primary reason for our stop in Cuenca was to allow a trip into Las Cajas national park - a wildlife reserve that is home to some 2000 lakes and a surreal landscape of high Andean tundra.

From there we made brief two-day stop to bask in the lush greenery and supremely laid back warmth of Vilcabamba, before heading down across the border and onto the northern coast of Peru. We've spent our past few days in the northern coastal town of Trujillo, giving ourselves a break between long overnight bus rides and a little time to check out the pre-Inca ruins that abound in this part of the country.

It's been interesting to move on from Quito. We had been there for so long, I think in a lot of ways it was starting to feel like home. We had work, we had a schedule, we enjoyed nights at home with our family - we gained a real sense of familiarity with everything we were doing there, and it was comfortable. It was great to let ourselves dig in, but at the same time I think that sense or regularity left us with a lot of space for our thoughts wander onto the things we desperately miss about home. The things we usually rely on to help us ground ourselves and regenerate are tough to find down here - downtime and happy hours with friends, Saturday mornings at home making coffee and breakfast in our pajamas, my bike... We are elated to be doing what we are doing, and we feel a great sense of appreciation for the adventures and challenges that each new day brings, but it is starting to sink in that a year is a long time to be away from the people and places we hold closest to out hearts.

So, with a mix of fond recollections of our time in Quito and subtle sense of longing for the things we love about home, we are continuing to make our way south through the Andes. Our next stop is the mountain town of Huaraz which we plan to use as a base camp for exploring the dramatic glaciated peaks and jade valleys of the Peruvian Cordillera.

A month at the middle of the world

Jonathan:
Somewhere in between the studying, volunteering and an amazing jaunt to the Galapagos, we did end up with a little bit of time to explore Quito, and get to know this town a little better.

One of the highlights was a stunningly beautiful day hike up to the top of Mount Pichincha--a 15,600ft peak that towers over downtown Quito. Accompanied by our Dutch friend Angelique, we set out on the trail from the top of a sightseeing gondola that connects the town center with a breathtaking mirador overlooking the sprawling city. We spent the day basking in the high-altitude sun, and trying to get our lungs to remember how to work at that elevation. Aside from a few exotic plants and some crazy volcanic rock formations, the trek felt just like home.

No time in Quito would be complete without a trip to the "Mitad del Mundo" (middle of the world) complex where the line of the equator streaks through the visitors center as a highlighted row of yellow bricks. There aren't too many metropolitan areas in the world where you can stand with one foot in each hemisphere, so we were glad to have checked that off our list. Evidently the complex was built before modern GPS was available, and the line is about 200 meters south of where it should be. Fortunately there's another museum with the "real" line next door, so we made a point to visit both. The smaller museum had several experiments set up to exhibit the affects of the strange gravitational pull at the equator—a tub of water with a drain to demonstrate how the water spins clockwise on the southern side of the line, and counterclockwise just a few steps away; a place to practice balancing an egg, which I guess is supposed to be easy there (Megan did it but I didn't have the patience); and a few other tidbits of gravity trivia. A quick trip to Snopes.com and we found out that most of the experiments were fixed, but it made for a fun afternoon anyway.

Another highlight of our time here has been basking in the warmth and good company of our host family, la familia Enriquez Pazmiño, whom we have grown increasingly fond of throughout our extended time in this town. Their thoughtfulness and generosity have provided us with the sense of home that felt like it was sorely missing from so much of our transient time in Central America. Our evenings and meals with our family have been spent sharing stories, our thoughts about the world, and our hearts. The connection that we've made with these wonderful people is one that will surely last for years to come. We feel extremely fortunate and grateful to have gotten to know them, and we will look forward to staying in touch in the future.

After spending more time in Quito than anywhere else on our trip, I think we're both feeling ready to move on. We'll be departing tonight for Cuenca, a smaller town in southern Ecuador, where we are looking forward to some hiking in the nearby Parque National de Las Cajas.

The Galapagos Islands

Megan:
Where to begin? I think Amazing would be a good start. It truly is a place unlike any other - a wildlife paradise. Jon and I decided that if we were going to take the financial plunge to visit the Galapagos Islands then we wanted to do it right - on and eight-day cruise with an impressive itinerary to the islands with some of the best wildlife. After visiting a number of travel agents, we decided the Nemo II would be our vessel of choice. And what a good choice it was - a beautiful 14 passenger catamaran sailboat complete with a sun deck, three gourmet meals a day, bedrooms you could stand up and walk around in, each with a private bathroom. This yacht was leaps and bounds beyond anything we could have imagined based on our other two boating experiences this year. And yet again, we were lucky to be paired with a great group of international travelers.

Most days we would begin with a delicious breakfast and a briefing on the day's activities from our knowledgeable guide, Mauricio. Our mornings would typically consist of a casual guided hike on whichever amazing island we had woken up at that day, followed by some snorkeling. After lunch (and usually a nap) the crew would navigate to our next destination and we would explore a new island and a new snorkeling site in the afternoon. I know...pretty tough life.

Most of the islands are uninhabited and all of them have evolved independently from the other each with their own unique variations of cactus, mangrove, iguana, tortoise, or whatever species happened to evolve there. It's no wonder Darwin used the islands to develop his theories on evolution - adaptation is everywhere you look. The park service and the Darwin Research Center has been working for decades to cleanse each island of the influences of humans, which in most cases mean irradicating any introduced plants and animals so that only the original endemic species remain. Due to the reasearch work and vigorous protection programs, the animals in the Galapagos have developed a level of comfort with the presence of humans. They have not been given any reason to fear us, so we were able to get incredibly close to them. From just inches away we were able to watch blue footed boobies engaged in courting rituals, magnificent frigates sitting on a nest of newly hatched chicks, iguanas basking in the sun, and baby sea lions crawling across the beach probably on one of their first solo adventures.

Although our time on land was fascinating and quite beautiful, I think the highlight of this trip for both Jon and I was our time in the water. Unlike the corral reefs we became familiar with in the Caribbean, all of the islands in the Galapagos are formed by volcanic activity so most of what we saw underwater were hardened lava formations. This created a more subtle backdrop for the spectacular animal activity we were able to witness. Swimming with playful sea lions was an unbelievable sensation. We made a game out of imitating each other twisting and turning or blowing bubbles while coasting through the water. The sea lions seemed to be just as excited as we were to have new underwater playmates. We also got to watch Humboldt penguins soar through the water and blue footed boobies (a unique bird that is famous in the Galapagos) powerfully dive into the water for their next fish dinner. Colorful fish, eagle rays and sting rays were abundant as were white and black tip sharks, Galapagos sharks, and Jon had to opportunity to swim with some menacing 3-meter hammerhead sharks as well.

We both feel so grateful to have been able to experience such a magnificent and unique part of the world.