true colors

On a day when I'm feeling extraordinarily proud to be an American, I couldn't help but think about the many times I've shown strangers my navy blue passport, which through its color alone, reveals my nationality. At airports and border crossings, I find myself trying to catch a glimpse the colors of everyone else's passport covers while I tuck mine inside pockets and plane tickets. (Some mysteries should be preserved, at least for a few moments.)

How appropriate that today my husband applied for a new passport, which should arrive within two weeks. Applying for a passport is a patriotic act, a statement that you appreciate the homeland enough to leave it. And come back. That said, I wouldn't mind having more than one (there's nothing wrong with having an extra quiver), but no matter how much I think back, I can't seem to remember growing up in a foreign country.

no excuses

It's winter, but I'm pushing the line that there are few excuses for choosing to hop in a warm car instead of onto a bicycle. Check out my piece about commuting by bike during these dark days in the current Women's Adventure magazine. Ignore my reference to rising gas prices. At deadline time, the idea of a gallon of gas for less than $2 seemed insane, yet here we are.

it's election day somewhere

moving mud

Having trouble getting the debate to stream live on this computer in...where am I right now?...seriously, I can not remember. Mendez to Limon. I am in Limon, tiny mellow jungle town with an internet cafe packed with teenagers on a...what day is it?..Tuesday night.

I am in a non touristy part of the jungle right now, which means few hotels, zero pizza and plenty of attention for the gringa. Sometimes when I start talking to people (slowly, carefully and clearly), they just stare at me in seeming disbelief that I can talk and that I am talking to them. The men like to ask each other if I am their wife..ha ha. They find it hilarious when I enter that conversation.

Today I must have seen 800 huge trucks and tractors. The whole southern Oriente seems to be crawling with them as they push huge boulders and piles of mud into more piles that promise a future of better roads and bridges. There is nothing delicate about their work. Today my bus broke down in the mud just a few minutes before we had to stop for an hour to watch said trucks grunt and crawl across the hillside. Adding hours to all transit plans for the next few days.

At this point, I am quite accustomed to seeing pigs in bus stations, chickens in town squares, people boarding buses with machetes and toddlers wearing rubber boots. My own rubber boots have been nicely broken in, worth every penny of the 7 dollars I spent in Coca.

on the move again

I am in love with the little town I must leave today. I´ve been camped out in Tena for most of the week, taking little day trips down the Rio Napo to visit out of the way lodges and an animal rescue center.

Yesterday I did a rafting trip on a chilly river that stems from the distant and imposing Cotapaxi itself. After passing a few small warm tributaries, we were dumped into the Rio Napo, which flows all the way to Peru to meet the Amazon River. It felt good to float outside the boat in my life jacket, knowing I was bobbing in a connecting point between two parts of the country I know well.

But I must drag myself away from Tena today. Onto Puyo and the southern Oriente, a less visited region that I´m sure will offer plenty of surprises.

good morning

I like mornings the most when I am on the road. Kids make their way to school in bright, fresh uniforms and you can smell wood burning fires heating breakfasts. In the jungle, mornings mean high activity both for humans and animals, a time to be as active as possible before the heat sucks the day away (that begins at oh, 8 a.m.). On most days at a jungle lodge, you get a wakeup knock on the door at 5 a.m. Hey, you want to see the birds or what?

I am back in Coca after a whirlwind week in the jungle. I must have taken over 30 different boats, all of them canoes. I am sending out much gratitude to all the men and women who helped me this week. So many kind people paddled me around lagoons and up small blackwater rivers, cooked me delicious food and slowly explained the flora and fauna of the Amazon basin. They carried my backpack, put big green leaves on the ground so I could sit without getting muddy, pointed out butterflies, monkeys, toucans and caiman, and patiently answered all my questions and asked about my life.

My jungle days are far from over, but it´s crunch time. Hitting a few more lodges then heading to whitewater mecca Tena.

Sunday is the big election here: si o no on the new constitution. Seems as though si will take it. The country is totally dry for three whole days...no cerveza for me at dinner last night. It´s okay. I will take the opportunity for clarity and will myself ponder: Si o No? By the way, voting is mandatory here for every single citizen. They all must migrate home (so many people here work far from home) to be present at a voting booth on Sunday. I wonder how that policy would go over in the states?

jungle survial

Today I´m heading to a place without electricity, roads, internet or phone, and I can`t wait. Going downstream (toward the Amazon River) on the Rio Napo to check out a multitude of lodges. I am looking forward to seeing plenty of wildlife, although I´ve already discovered some new strange mammals here in Coca living outside my hotel. One looks like a hairy armadillo and the other is some sort of monkey relative. Who knows! But they certainly are interesting. I watched one eat a mouse yesterday.

I am giving into the sweat and the stink that will define my life for the next few weeks. I swear none of the locals sweat at all. It´s just me. But I am learning to stop and drink fresh fruit juices, sit near fans, and swim in the afternoons if possible. Pure survival technqiues, I tell you.