Quito - Where It All Began

After 7 months of constant movement, including one particularly aggressive stretch visiting 5 countries in 5 weeks, I decided it was time to settle down in one spot for a bit.  I contemplated a few options, including going back to Bolivia or heading to Mexico City, but I ultimately decided on Quito.  As I’ve mentioned earlier my one tangible goal for the trip is to become fluent in Spanish, and while all options certainly would have been fun (and could be fun in the future) I knew the Spanish school in Quito would be excellent.  How?  I attended the Bolivian branch of this school last October, but even more so I had some first-hand experience; in January 1999 this guy spent a month at this very school.  

From Fortaleza I flew to Sao Paolo, then Panama City, and finally Quito.  Once again I stumbled into an absurd seat assignment and received the delightfully-close-to-the-front 4F for both the redeye to Panama City and the short jump to Quito.  When I checked in the ticket counter agent and I exchanged a glance where we both acknowledged I had no business sitting in business class, but Expedia had other plans for me.  Since I didn’t shell out the 8x or whatever silly multiple business class charges I had no qualms sleeping the entire flight across the continent. 

I arrived in Quito still exhausted after a long day of flying despite such a comfortable seat.  I had told myself that I would only allow one hour of English each day, a deal that was promptly broken after 61 minutes.  This was no fault of my own of course, I shared a taxi with a German girl, and it certainly would have been rude to stop talking after an hour.  And when I arrived at the school, the world’s worst male to female ratio prevented me from the deep immersion I so desperately craved.  The student population consisted of me and a group of 30 American speech therapists in their 20s.  Again, just didn’t want to be rude.  

I’ve always been a creature of habit - once I find a dish or drink I like I order essentially the same thing every time I go back to a place.  If anything my habitness increases when I travel, it feels comfortable to have something familiar in the presence of constant change.  After a few weeks in Quito I have my week-day routine down to a science:

7:45am - The alarm rings.  I certainly have changed over the past 8 months but my utter revulsion towards mornings has persevered.  I hit snooze, question why I voluntarily do this, and crawl out of bed.  

8:10ish - I walk down the street to the fancy bakery and buy a chocolate croissant for 98 cents.  Why is it 98 cents and not $1?  The buy 49 get one free doesn’t seem like that awesome of a deal, but I’m saving my pennies for the glorious moment.

8:15ish - I walk back towards school and stop at the less fancy bakery for a coffee.  At this point I don’t have to say anything, when I walk in I make eye contact with the worker behind the counter and nod, hand them my 3 quarters, and walk out with my coffee.  It feels so special to be known.  

8:30 - Class begins.  My class is essentially 4 hours of talking, I’ve learned all the grammar usually taught and just need to apply it.  I’ve considered stopping classes soon but really don’t see a more efficient way of practicing than 4 hours of forced conversation where it’s the teacher’s job to correct me.

10:30 - Recess!  Back to the bakery for coffee round 2.  The only word I have to say is gracias.  

11:00 - Back to class for 2 more hours.  At least 30 minutes of these two hours involves watching a movie and explaining what happened.  I’ve now had 10 weeks of class between my time in Bolivia and here, and aside from a few dubbed American movies I’ve gotten a chance to see a number of Latin American films.  Some are even on Netflix!  If you feel like you’ve been too happy lately and are not getting your proper dosage of depression check out Voces Inocentes (Innocent Voices).  You’re welcome.  

1:00 - Time for lunch.  The typical Ecuadorian lunch is called an Almuerzo (literally the word for lunch).  This involves a soup followed by your choice of chicken or beef, accompanied by rice, a legume, and usually a small salad.  Depending on where you are in Quito this will run you between $1.75-$3.50, with a few fancier options that include dessert reaching just north of $5.00.  Just like in Colombia (which had the exact same cuisine) I fluctuate between going local or grabbing a sandwich, shawarma, salad, or something other than rice and meat.  

3:00 - Salsa class.  The second week here I found a salsa school that offers one on one lessons.  Just about every week-day I have an hour of class.  After my stint on the Tufts salsa squad and lessons in Cuba, it finally feels like things are coming together moving in the direction of competency.  

4:00 Until Bed - Now things get a little less organized but the days are similar.  At some point I’ll eat dinner, usually at one of the many restaurants within the mile or so radius of my residence.  My homework each night is to write a page of whatever I want - I’ve decided to retell my travel adventures through the perspective of a penguin.  I’ve started to make Ecuadorian friends and some nights we’ll go out for a drink.  But if nothing is going on, I am all too content to hang out on the couch watching telenovelas while knitting.  At heart I suppose I am a 65-year-old Latina Grandmother.  Things have certainly taken a turn since the Colombian coast.  

Brazil - The World Cup

One of the landmark points of my adventures has always been the World Cup.  The world’s most popular sporting event in a country recognized for its fanaticism at an age where most activities are socially accepted was too good to pass up.  Rather than try to chase the US or stay in the illustrious Rio, we decided to pick a medium sized city on the beach before the groups had been decided to maximize our chances of securing a ticket.  In October the first lottery closed and our fate was set: Germany vs Ghana and Greece vs Ivory Coast in Fortaleza.

But first, a quick preface.  Imagine a country that is its region’s economic powerhouse but with an increasingly tangible sentiment of inequality.  Disgruntled youth take to the streets, passively protesting.  These protests become violent, people beaten, arrested without cause, the acts recorded for the entire world to see.  New York City is a scary place, isn’t it?   

Fortunately I was spared the constant questioning of my terror/sanity over the dangers I might face in Brazil.  Anytime I told a fellow traveler I was heading to the world cup I was only met with envy, not fear that so many others back in the US noted.  This mixture of collective ignorance and arrogance is infuriating; contrary to popular belief somehow a country of 198 million people manage to survive every day without being robbed, kidnapped, or maimed.  To be clear this is not an affirmation for the government’s treatment of its people.  Are there some fucked up things going on in Brazil right now?  You bet.  But just like most of the world, as long as you don’t do anything stupid you will be fine.   

If anything my World Cup experience was more relaxed than my previous adventures.  A typical day consisted of waking up around 11am, at least an hour of reading, knitting, or both, a brief discussion over where we would watch the first game, and then 9 hours of soccer.  If a particularly boring game was up we would mix in the beach or the roof-top pool, but with temperatures reaching the upper 80’s and a blaring sun, the day-time activities were minimal.  

Fortaleza itself was solid but nothing special: it was a city on the beach, with a fun boardwalk, tons of restaurants, and a few places to go out.   Our go to restaurant was the legendary Dom Churasco, a large Brazilian barbecue establishment well trained in the arts of meat preparation.  Clearly my thoughts of potentially turning to the dark side of herbivoredom have been vanquished.  

The games themselves were special yet very different.  Germany-Ghana was up first and certainly the much more entertaining and competitive of our two matches.  As Germany was one of the favorites the crowd was distinctly pro-Ghana, and the energy in the stadium was palpable.  The stadium went berserk when Ghana surprisingly took the lead and despite our rooting for Germany we couldn’t help ourselves getting swept away in the madness.   

Our second game offered a different flavor.  The first half of Greece-Ivory coast was about as boring as can be in terms of actual soccer.  Due to a bizarre succession of injuries there might have only been 5 minutes of actual playing in the first 20.  But as the crowd became restless things got interesting: a group of Brazilians started chanting for the rival team of Fortaleza, which triggered a louder response from the local fans.  Things didn’t turn violent, it was more of a good natured bantering with a slight edge, but was very fun to be apart of.     

We had a great time in Brazil.  While we hardly did anything that could be classified as cultural (aside from eating copious amounts of grilled cow) we did embrace the national sport to its fullest.  30 soccer games, numerous caipirinhas and a few beach sunsets isn’t the worst way to spend 10 days. 

A Bit of Catch Up

So I’ve been fortunate enough to have a pretty incredible month of travel.  After Colombia I flew to Puerto Rico for a wedding, then New York City to see friends, then Chile to see my brother, and finally Brazil for the World Cup.  Here’s a little bit of what I’ve been up to.

From Colombia I flew to Puerto Rico for my friends’ Bobby and Maria’s wedding.  This was the first friend wedding I attended... it was awesome.  A group of friends coming together to celebrate love while sufficiently inebriated… what’s not to like?? Despite being officially part of the US I don’t think anyone will pretend that PR shares too many similarities to the continent besides the currency.  With the colorful buildings, relaxed attitude, and Spanish language, this felt much more like Cuba than California.  Still, it served as a nice transitional stage from Colombia to NYC.  

The wedding itself was beautiful.  Hosted at the Ritz Carlton under a cloud of palm trees at sunset, I can’t imagine a more perfect setting.  The ceremony was short yet magical, the food delicious, the music pleasantly Latin, and we were able to enjoy a few gifts courtesy of Fidel. I spent a full week in Puerto Rico and got to catch up with my old housemates and many friends I hadn’t seen in months.

But after the week it was time for NYC.  Because flights back to South America are weird, it was essentially the same price to return back south via JFK.  So I took advantage of the avionic oddity and stopped in Manhattan for a few days to see friends and restock on clothes, toiletries, etc.  The timing was perfect; I was able to see another group I hadn’t seen in months and catch a US-Turkey soccer friendly.

Another long weekend came to an end and it was time to return to Latin America.  I caught a redeye from New York to Santiago and took my first steps in Chile during a pleasant 6:30am sunrise.  Chile is currently in the dead of winter, and make no mistake it was quite chilly.  There was no snow, but a brisk 40 degrees wearing summer clothes marked the first time I had experienced legitimate frigidity in over a year.  

I rested a few days in the capital and took the bus an hour west to Valparaiso where my brother was studying for the semester.  His host family graciously took me in and I had a comfy floor bed to sleep on for a few days.  Valparaiso lies on essentially the exact latitude as San Francisco and it had an eerily similar feel - on the coast, chilly yet pleasant during the day, slightly edgy population, and fun nightlife.  

Brendy and I perused the Valparaiso streets, bars, and clubs, and even managed to cook a delicious quesadilla lunch for his host mom.  Time flew by and it was time to return to Santiago for my last few days in Chile.  I stumbled upon a wonderful hostel, La Chimba, where I made a few friends.  

One of the women that worked at the front desk even taught me to knit!

The world cup started during my stay. Quite simply, it is incredible.  I was fortunate enough to be in Chile for their Friday night game against Australia and their collective, tangible passion was a first for me.  All of South America is clearly passionate about their respective teams but Chile isn’t especially noteworthy for its soccer legacy. The country rioted in what was essentially a Seahawks versus Jaguars beat-down.  Tear gas was sprayed, the SWAT team was out, and everyone had a fucking amazing night. 

It was the perfect finish to my whirlwind tour through Chile.  I will undoubtedly be back at some point but I could not have scripted a better 10 days through the capital and port city.  The next night I embarked on a miserable Santiago > Lima > Sao Paulo > Fortaleza schlep.  The worst part?  My knitting needles weren’t allowed on carry-on.  Headlines that have never appeared anywhere: Terrorists hi-jack airplane wielding dull bamboo knitting needles.   

Colombia - An Unexpected 4 Months

When I started traveling back in October I had a loose plan in my head: after Bolivia and a quick return home for Thanksgiving, I'd fly to Colombia and start working my south spending about one month per country. A family trip to Cuba for Christmas moved that plan back by a few months, but when I arrived in Cartagena on January 24th I still believed I would be somewhere around Chile by now. My flight out of Medellin left May 21st, almost 4 months after arrival. How did that happen? I can point to 2 concrete reasons, with a third holistic cause.

First, I met Pete and the van - we roadtripped through the entirety of Colombia but skipped the Northern Coast, so there were a few parts of Colombia I still needed to see. But there is no way I go back to Colombia without number 2: I had planned to meet friends from home in Barranquilla for Carnival. I was all the way in Southern Ecuador before I flew back to Colombia and would have been fine to keep going with that travel family. So I spent Carnival with friends, figured I'd relax on the beach for a few days, head to Medellin for another few, maybe see the coffee country again, and be done with Colombia round 2 in about three weeks. The land of the lotus eaters and Paola's eco-farm had a different plan, and 3 weeks turned into 3 months.

Ultimately I think it comes down to this: Colombia is just a comfortable country. It's incredibly safe, you've got beaches, mountains, jungles, and everything in between, the infrastructure and amenities are comparable to home, and every place has its own version of awesome nightlife. Hell, after the World Cup I could potentially go back and spend another month in Cali salsa dancing, although my instinct right now tells me it is time to finally move on.

Without further preamble here is how Colombia fits into my country ratings. 4 months in a country certainly gives me way more insight into its inner workings than 3 weeks in one city like Veracruz, but I still like to compare. As a reference, I am comparing Colombia to Bolivia, Mexico, and Cuba.

Food: A typical Colombian meal consists of a soup, followed by some sort of meat, rice, beans, plantains, and shrubbery. Quality ranges from place to place but you pretty much know what to expect - its going to be decent but nothing amazing. Of course, I was here long enough to discover some gems... here are my top 3 places I dined at:

Brunch - Salento (American Cuisine): I covered this one in an earlier post but to summarize: awesome burgers, greasy breakfasts, delicious peanut butter chocolate brownies.

Baba Ganoush - Taganga (Mediterranean Cuisine) I only ate here once but had one of the best fillet mignons I've ever eaten. Coupled with a falafel appetizer and a chocolate brownie sundae for under $20 and this was the perfect place for a nice treat.

Crepes and Waffles - Medellin and Bogota (Crepes and Waffles Cuisine): I ate here the last 5 days I spent in Medellin. Crepes and Waffles only hires single mothers (the kind of discrimination I have no problem advocating for but would be shot down immediately in litigious USA) and only serves delicious food. My go to order would be the Mexican crepe with a Nutella waffle topped with vanilla ice cream.

Colombian food doesn't come close to Mexico but ranks way above Bolivia. The staple dishes probably tie with Cuba, but Colombia gets the edge because of variety and the above-mentioned winners. Ranking: 2nd

Snack: I'm not sure if Colombia has a definitive snack like Bolivia's salteña or Cuba's churros. I guess it would be empanadas, something that each country in Latin America produces its own version of, and Colombia's have been the worst I've had. The key to a good empanada is the crust and Colombia just didn't deliver on that front. If the arequipe filled-donut I discovered in Amaga was more widespread that might have rescued Colombia from its last place finish, but alas that is not to be. Ranking: Last

Climate: Colombia has just about every climate imaginable so its tough to compare. The coast is scorching, the mountains get a bit chilly, and Medellin is almost perfect. For the sake of fairness I'll compare the climates of the cities I spent the most time in - Medellin/Amaga get the nod for Colombia. I can't say enough about how perfect the weather is in Sucre and even the city of eternal spring couldn't dethrone the Bolivian Goliath. Medellin came close though - high 70's during the day and low 60's at night is pretty solid. Clouds and the slightest of humidities foiled Medellin's run at number 1; there weren't that many truly sunny days in Medellin and it usually rained a bit each afternoon. Ranking: 2nd.

Music: I never thought I would hear music that I despised more than 80s rock. Journey, Bon Jovi... really every song that was played over and over again in New England bars transported me to auditory hell. Then I heard Vallenato. I'd heard similar music before - it's the accordion heavy type of music that sounds similar to what you would hear on a Spanish radio station in the US - but what really killed me was the widespread pandemic. It was inescapable. I just don't understand, Salsa, Merengue, and Bachata sound so much better and have equally entertaining dances to go with them: why deviate from a good thing?? Obviously music taste is a personal decision and I've heard the same criticisms about the electronic music I like. I don't care, Vallenato simply isn't good. The real shame is that Colombia had the best anthem of the trip so far - it took quite the music genre to relegate a song to the basement whose chorus translates to: "tonight I will give you penis, penis, penis." Unfortunately for "Serrucho," Vallenato buried this category at the bottom of that monster pile of fertilizer I raked the other week. Ranking: Dead Fucking Last.

Drinks: The Colombian national spirit is called aguardiente or "guaro" for short. It's terrible. It's clear, tastes like licorice, and at 25% alcohol by volume you have to drink almost twice as much to get the same effect as rum. The major beers Aguila, Club Colombia, and Pilsen are your typical Latin American lagers that don't have any particular flavor. I did enjoy the two alternative beer brands - Bogota Beer Company and 3 Cordilleras, especially the 3 Cordilleras Mestizo brand that was Colombia's closest thing to an IPA. Cuba and its armada of rums takes poll position here and after that it's kind of a toss up. Mexico didn't really have a local spirit but I'd rather have no local one than either aguardiente or Bolivia's Singani. Ranking: 3rd, the Mestizo gives Colombia the edge over Bolivia.

Clubs/Nightlife:
"I'll take countries with amazing nightlife and rediculously attractive women for $200, Alex."
"This South American country..."
"What is Colombia?"
"Right again, Señor Reader."

Colombia certainly confirmed its reputation for wild nightlife and good looking women. I probably quadrupled the amount of lifetime sunrises I've ever seen over the past 4 months, and not all of those were for sunrise meditation on the farm. From the beach parties on the coast, to the major cities of Medellin and Bogota in the central highlands, to Cali's salsa clubs in the south, there was always something to do at night. For sheer volume and talent I can't deny the power of Colombia here. Ranking: First

                                 

Language/Slang: Colombia has a number of different accents and sounds. The coast has a Caribbean flavor, and speaks quickly and cuts off some of the last consonants. Medellin is famous for its sing-song "Paisa" cadence. Bogota speaks slowly and clearly. After Cuba anything was going to sound better and even the coast was much easier to understand. I still put Mexico ahead because of its slang but Colombia ties with Bolivia for clarity. Ranking: T-Second

Adventure: The amount of time I spent in Colombia compared to the rest of the countries skews this category more than any other. I did paragliding, jungle camping, cave exploring, a number of hikes, and the biggest adventure of all - Carnival. But aside from Carnival those are all activities that I can do in other places. Still, you can't argue with actual experiences and Colombia delivered. Ranking: First.

Something Random: This might be a cop out, but I think a spontaneous 3-week road trip through the entirety of Colombia qualifies as something random. The van feels like a lifetime ago but still resonates as one of the highlights of any trip I've experienced. Throughout the number adventures I've been lucky enough to be apart of I've learned to be open minded and spontaneous, but that kind of road trip with a stranger was not something I remotely considered when I drew up the South American playbook. With all due respect to zebras of Sucre, the van reigns king. Ranking: First, by a mile (1.6km for you Pete).

A Few Field Trips

We get weekends off on the farm so each Friday after lunch I've shipped out with a few of the other volunteers to some of the places in the surrounding area.

Guatepe: Guatepe is most famous for this monster rock:

It's about a 2 hour bus ride from Medellin so we decided to spend Friday night in the city before grabbing the bus early Saturday morning. We heard rumors of secret waterfalls so we devoted Saturday to searching for them. It took an hour and a half of jumping over fences, scaling the sides of riverbanks, and making a path where none existed but we finally made it.

We hiked the rock right after breakfast Sunday morning to miss the crowds. I'm not sure if I can agree with its self-proclaimed slogan as "the best view in the world," but it is certainly up there. The 734 steps to the top were well, well worth it.

Rio Claro: Rio Claro is a cool jungle reserve about 3 hours north of Medellin. The jungle still sits about 2000 feet above sea level so it wasn't too sweltering, especially with some serious tropical downpour. We camped there Friday and Saturday nights and fell asleep both nights to the soothing whisper of rain drops on canvas.

The highlight by far was a 3 hour-cave tour. We hiked about 45 minutes through the jungle to the mouth of a cave, turned the flashlights on, and started our nocturnal-aquatic adventure. Inside we followed the river down a series of small jumps and slides - sort of like canyoning except in the dark. The entire time we were bombarded by the howls of guacharos, these cave-birds that I first met in the jungles of Bolivia. The sound is terrifying, like a Tolkien creature mixed with a velociraptor, and the absence of sight only adds to the fear. Needless to say, that was an awesome 3 hours.

Bogota: The farm was closed for a week for Semana Santa and Paola's birthday so I took the opportunity to finally visit the capital. Sebastian from the tejo team Arlen/Sebastian lives in Bogota and he invited me to stay at his top-floor apartment. The view wasn't too bad.

This was actually one of my best Spanish experiences in Colombia. I went out with Sebastian and his university friends a few of the nights and got the full immersion of fast-paced conversation and slang. Bogota was also excellent for its medical services - my lifetime of fingernail biting finally caught up to me and one of my thumbs became infected. I found a nice clinic nearby, made an appointment for later that day, and had my antibiotics by early afternoon. With no insurance, total cost of the doctor's visit with antibiotics set me back a cool $35... that's probably what it would have cost in the states too, right?

Time To Teach

Before I began this trip I had a serious aversion to teaching English. It seems like going to South America to teach English has become some sort of modern day missionary movement and my goal of traveling was to immerse myself in different cultures... not convert them to Englishism. Over the past 7 months I've softened my position - English just opens too many opportunities that anyone who comes to teach really is contributing to the greater good, globalization be damned. I just don't have any interest in centering my trip around it. Still, I figured I might as experience this teaching thing at least once.

Each afternoon at 2pm myself and four other volunteers make the half-hour walk to a local middle school for an hour of English class. My first week I actually worked with the kindergartners but thankfully a new volunteer showed up with girl-scout-troop-leading-experience who relieved me from glorified babysitting duty.

Thinking about it I have minimal experience teaching: I trained a few of our summer interns as well as my replacement at SVB for the last month I was there, I'm a certified Scuba instructor but have yet to teach a real class, and I coached one season of my little brother's soccer team 8 years ago. And while I'm very comfortable with my command over the English language, teaching it is quite a different animal.

The first two days of class were less than productive. There were 5 teachers for about 20 students (aged 11-15 and almost all girls), a pretty solid teacher-student ratio, but we just weren't organized. To be fair we had been given the impression that the older kids had a tiny bit of English experience, but other than one or two of the older girls we were working with blank slates. Our loosest of teaching plans disintegrated after about 5 minutes and we shared quite a few blank looks of indecision between us.

On our walk back to the hostel after back-to-back failures we resolved to sit down and put together a formal lesson plan. Rather than structure the classes around verb conjugation, pronouns, or anything resembling a formal language lesson, we themed our lessons around practical vocabulary and figured the sentence structure would appear naturally by asking questions. After that first updated class we all felt much better, confident that the students had actually learned something. We would continue to refine our strategies after each class but essentially here is how we structured it:

First 5 minutes two of us walk around the room, introduce ourselves, and have the students say their names in complete sentences ("Hello, my name is Billy, what is your name?"). Next we review the vocab from the day before and answer any lingering questions (pretty much everything we learned from the day before is a lingering question). Then it is time for the day's lesson, where we write the vocab on the board, have the class repeat it in English, and then explain the Spanish translation. For the last half of the lesson we break into small groups of 2-3 and go over a worksheet of questions. The small groups are where the real learning goes down since most of the students are too shy speak in front of the big group. Interestingly enough the same students sought out the same teachers each day so I got to know my squad well.

To be honest, teaching was a rush. I found myself getting really into each lesson, high fiving the students when they did especially well, and just having a good time. I still don't think I'll pursue English teaching long term - I'm determined to speak less English in my next destinations - but if the opportunity arises I could consider another short stint as Profe Billy.

Working on the Farm

As promised, here is a little bit more detail about EcoHostel Medellin and what kind of work we actually do on the farm. Paola opened the place about a year and half ago the farm is still young and growing.

The farm itself is quite small - no more than a few acres - but it packs a punch. Tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, yucca, mangoes, pineapple, avacados, peppers, onions, and a multitude of herbs and spices are but a few of the many items that grow here. The hostel isn't quite able to fully feed itself from the garden yet but should be able to achieve break-even by the end of Q2'14, with the overall goal of opening a vegetarian restaurant in town sometime in 2015.

Sustainability is unsurprisingly a key theme of the hostel. There is no trash nor is there even recycling: all food scraps go into the compost, and the few inorganic items we do use are stuffed into these bottles which will be turned into bricks for later use.

Accommodation is basic but comfortable. I have my own room and bathroom (I had to pay a little extra for that privilege but after 3 months of dormitories I was craving a little personal space), there is electricity 24/7, and a bounty of hammocks are scattered throughout the premises. I've even befriended a local bat who sleeps in the rafters and keeps the bugs away from me at night. However, the one luxury I truly, deeply miss is a tough one for me to cope with: there are no hot showers. That initial shock is cold, it gets colder, and yes, it stays cold. You know how Oedipus felt when he found out he was banging his mom the whole time? It's a lot like that.

Here's a few activities that we've been up to the past couple of weeks:

Machete Wielding: I had never actually used a machete before, and I must say it is fucking awesome. Just the slightest of swings slices branches with ease and it is incredibly satisfying reeling back and wailing on some thick brush. I've primarily used the machete for separating leaves from dead trees/branches; we use leaves for protecting young plants from being dominated by the sun and also mix them with fertilizer, and the branches provide bonfire tinder (the ash from the bonfires also goes into the fertilizer... everything here is interconnected, just like this atrocious run-on sentence).

Shoveling Shit: There are fields... endless fields. Volunteers pair up into teams of two - a shoveler and a bagger - and we hop over next door where the kindly neighbor lets us clean his cow pastures for him. We make our own fertilizer through a combination of said cow dung, grass clippings, dirt, ash, yeast, sugar, and water. Then we rake the monster pile for about two weeks, sprinkle it around the garden, and enjoy!

Terrace Making: As I mentioned earlier the farm is moving towards self sustenance. A big driver of that will come from these newly constructed terraces. These took a few weeks of the whole team shoveling and we brought in some professional help to craft the railings out of bamboo from the brush down the hill. Each of the terraces will then be layered with multiple layers of leaves, fertilizer, and dirt before the actual crops go in.

Staircase Construction: This goes hand in hand with the terrace making. Walking up and down a steep hill is treacherous, especially when the grass is wet (95% of the time). To alleviate this ailment we constructed a series of steps: used car and motorcycle tires form the shell, a clay brick helps the step hold up to the rigors of erosion, and dirt does the rest.

Straight Up Planting: The most obvious of all... you gotta plant things before they can grow. There are a few small nurseries around the farm - the plastic cups from fruit juices in town make the perfect first home - and from there we transplant the little guys to the big garden or the terraces. Most of the crops can circumvent the nursery and go straight from seed to stomach without the training wheels. Chief Garden Officer Fabian, Paola's boyfriend, makes that call.

There is always something to do around the farm and these are but a few of the many activities that have come up throughout my stay. I've admittedly lived a very white collar life and it feels good to work with my hands on something other than a computer keyboard.