Happy Birthday Tree Ferns

It's May 2nd 2014, the day I turn two decades old! What present do I give myself?

Tree ferns.

The plant in which pterodactyls like to hide.

But let me back up. Last night, the day after finishing my Salkantay Trek to Machu Picchu, after not nearly enough rest and relaxation in Cusco, I flew back to Ecuador. It was an evening flight to Lima and then to Quito, where I landed at 12:15 in the morning.

"Happy birthday," I told myself quietly as the Ecuadorian customs officer checked my suitcase.

It wasn't until an hour later that I arrived at my hostel's lobby. There, in the middle of the night, I pulled my extra luggage out of storage and rearranged my belongings. I wanted to leave all my wool garments, alpaca-themed gifts, and winter clothes in Quito. In the Amazon I would be needing quick-drying pants, long-sleeved shirts and plenty of socks -- plus my Birds of Ecuador book, of course!

Without showering or brushing my teeth, I stumbled into my assigned bunk bed in the eight-person dorm room. It was with great sorrow that I yanked myself from bed a mere three hours later. Juan Carlos, the driver from my next destination (a research station in the Amazon called Estación Científica Yasuní) was scheduled to pick me up at 6:30am.

I sat on the curb eating a grand birthday breakfast of peach yogurt, the kind which comes with a little plastic cap full of powdery frosted flakes and a two-piece miniature plastic spoon. Just the thing to ring in my second decade of life.

Juan Carlos showed up an hour late due to traffic, or because of the thermos of coffee he had brewed, or maybe just because that's still "on time" in Ecuador. I got the backseat because another volunteer was in the front.

During our twelve hour drive to the research station, I got to know the two friends who would keep me company for the next twenty days: the jovial Ecuadorian man, Juan Carlos, and the sarcastic Dutch girl, Renate. We played loud music, stopped for bathroom breaks, and ate a delicious lunch of fish grilled in leaves and jungle green tea in the Amazonian city of Coca.

Arriving at the RepSol oil company checkpoint reminded me of last September, when I first visited Yasuní National Park with my study abroad program. This journey was much the same.

Even the friendly mama dog was still there, begging for love as usual.

Juan Carlos, Renate and I wandered around the barely-existant settlement of Pompeya while we waited for the RepSol canoe and barge to take us and our truck across the Napo River. We attempted to deliver a box of medical supplies to a house of nuns, but nobody was home.

The RepSol motorized canoe docked at Pompeya.

As we arrived to the other side of the river, I noticed the gorgeous wall of tree-ferns you saw at the beginning of this post. I wasn't with family or even people I knew on my birthday, and I wouldn't be unwrapping any presents, but I soaked in those elegant tree ferns and gave them to myself as a gift.

We bumped along the gravel road for a couple hours. Juan Carlos stopped the car to cheerfully greet every Huaorani by name, reaching out to touch the children and clasping hands with the adults. He speaks fluent Huao-terero.

Finally we arrived at the research station, just in time for dinner and desert of grape jello. It sure wasn't my grandma's famous chocolate birthday cake, but it was a fabulous end to my twentieth May 2nd on Earth. What better way to celebrate a birthday than to enter the lungs of the planet, the largest jungle in the world, the home of jaguars and river dolphins, the Amazon Rainforest?

The five buildings of Estación Científica Yasuní, as seen from the back.

Estación Científica Yasuní seen from an overlooking cabin.

I hope we humans manage to curb our tendency toward destruction so this place will be around for many more birthdays to come.

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Spontaneity

Tuesday, March 4

Spontaneity: noun: the state of occurring as a result of a sudden inner impulse or inclination and without premeditation.

This morning the dutiful volunteers all headed back to their hard manual labor at Lisan Yacu Station. Last night I debated – should I ask to join them as a pseudo-volunteer for another week, or bide my time in Tena, or head on to some new adventure?

Though I would have loved to see Lisan Yacu, I had not received an invitation to join the workers, and I didn’t want to intrude. I also knew that I would be out of internet contact in the jungle, and I wouldn’t be able to respond to any new information about my Galapagos visa situation. (I was hoping to be on the Islands four days ago, on March 1, but these paperwork processes often take longer than expected in Ecuador. I’m glad I took the chance to explore the Amazon and didn’t want around in Quito for the last week.)

When I woke up, I decided my time in Tena had come to a close. With that decision I packed my suitcase and headed downhill to the bus station. The place was hopping after Carnaval Weekend, and the man at the booth regretfully informed me that there were no more tickets on the bus to Quito.

Then he relented. “Are you traveling alone?” he asked. I said, “Yes,” and he offered me one of the non-ticketed seats on the bench behind the driver. I accepted happily – a forward-facing view out the windshield would help me avoid feeling carsick on the winding, mountainous road. Sometimes traveling alone comes in handy.

I had a couple hours to kill with my heavy backpack on, so I grabbed a brunch almuerzoand contemplated getting my haircut as a souvenir. I would have an Amazon haircut right now if I hadn’t run out of time!

The ride was wonderful. I sat up front and made fast friends with my neighbor, María Belén, a 21-year-old girl with two daughters. She shared my sense of humor and had an innate sense of how to speak slowly and clearly so I could understand all her Spanish. She explained lots of perplexing Ecuadorian phenomena, such as why the “full” bus had shut out a crowd of eager people at the station, but stopped to pick up a dozen people standing along the side of the road with their hands out.

“The people we’re picking up all have tickets already,” she explained. “They just didn’t want to walk all the way to the station this morning, so they’re catching the bus as it comes by.” That sounded like a risky option to me, and María Belén confessed that she had once missed the bus that way. “Now I always go to the station to catch the bus,” she told me.

As the hours passed and we neared Quito, the bus driver began picking up everyone he saw, packing the aisles and cab of the bus.

“Why didn’t he pack the bus this full before?” I asked María Belén.

“Because four hours is too long to ride uncomfortably,” she explained, as if the answer were obvious. “Plus, how would all these people get home if the bus were already full?”

I’m sure those bustling crowds in Tena would not have minded a standing-room-only ticket, but somehow the Ecuadorian system of chaos works out.

Suddenly, María Belén signaled to the driver and hopped out the bus door while we were still rolling down the highway. “This is my stop!” she hollered to me as we rolled away. “Stay in touch!”

When we arrived at Quito’s southern bus station, I took the public Trolebus all the way up to my go-to hostel in Old Town. Just as I arrived at the top-floor registration desk, Brian (my long-haired friend from before) greeted me with a hug.

“I’m going to the coast tonight on a night bus!” he informed me enthusiastically. His new traveling buddy, a blond Canadian named Aysha, would be joining him.

“Mind if I tag along?” I asked spontaneously. The coast was going to be my next destination anyway. I told the man at the registration desk “never mind” about the room. After dinner, I helped Bryan chop some wood, then took my packed suitcase back to the southern bus terminal for my favorite thing in the world (sarcasm), a night bus ride.

Spontaneity: noun: a way of life which leads to bus rides with panoramic-views, new friends, and sleeping in places you never imagined when you woke up that morning.

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Mindo, Land of Butterflies and Chocolate

Tuesday, February 18

This morning, I accomplished the real task which drew me to Quito: I submitted the paperwork to apply for my Ecuadorian visa! I woke up before sunrise and hired a taxi to the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores y Movilidad Humana. I was so anxious to be on time that I arrived almost an hour early. It was like magic when Gaby, the assistant to the lawyer with whom I have been e-mailing for months, showed up with my paperwork. I wanted to give her a bear hug! The transaction was uneventful, and Gaby advised me to meet her at the same place on Friday afternoon. Smoother sailing than expected. Now I was free from Quito for two days. The question was, what to do?

First off, a huge $2.00 lunch of yapingacho and a $0.50 coconut smoothie with my British friends at the Mercado Central. Then, soccer and frisbee in the park. I was happy, tired, grassy, and soaking wet by the time I returned to the hostel that evening. It was an afternoon of happy freedom. With that mindset, I decided how I will spend tomorrow. I’m hopping a bus to Mindo, the bird-watcher’s heaven in the cloud forest!

The more I research Mindo, the more giddy I become. There’s even a nine-day luxury bird tour put on my a Mindo birding company. Not in my time-frame or budget now, but it’s something to dream about for the future. Maybe I can take my mom on that tour for her 60^th birthday!

For tonight, I will contain my thoughts to the next two days I plan to spend in the steamy, rainy, high-altitude forest of Mindo. I’m all packed and paid up. The only thing left to do it read my Birds of Ecuador book and dream of toucans, motmots, flycatchers and trogons. Goodnight!

Wednesday, February 19

Welcome to Mindo, land of butterflies and chocolate! And, of course, birds. I just learned that Mindo is the third best birding hot-spot in South America. How lucky am I?

I took the 9:00am bus from Quito’s northern bus station to Mindo for a whopping $2.00. The bus system charges roughly a dollar an hour. If only Seattle’s public transit was that cheap! When I got off the bus on a sleepy dirt road, I noticed two other foreigners putting on their backpacks and looking around uncertainly.

“What hostel are you looking for?” asked a middle-aged woman with thick brown bangs.

“Hostal Cecilia?” I replied, having read good reviews of it last night.

“That’s where I’m going!” both of the other travelers said at once. I guess it’s a good place!

We all walked a few blocks through the misty fog to a clean, simple, cheap hostel on the river. The second traveler, a young Dutch guy named Daan, and I headed up the ladder to the open-air dormitory. As we unpacked, Daan asked what I had planned. “I think I’ll join you on everything you do for the next couple days,” he proclaimed. It’s the luck of the backpacker – you meet perfect travel companions everywhere you go.

So I wrote up a list of all the sites I hoped to explore, and we set off immediately to La Mariposeria, the butterfly house. The walk took longer than expected, especially because we would come across one sign that said “1 km” and then a while later, the next sign would say “2.7 km.” We were never sure if the distances were listed to the actual destination, or just until the next sign.

The trek was well worth it, because the butterflies were spectacular. I tried to match my photos with the informational signs around the butterfly house, but they weren't all easy to tell. So here are my pictures and possible names for the butterflies in them!

Heliconius cydno 

Metona grandiosa 

Siproeta epaphus

Heliconius ismenius 

Morpho elenor 

The same species with its wings closed!

Papilio something... amazing placement!

Heliconius erato 

Heliconius sara 

Heliconius athis 

Heliconius melpomene

I didn't catch the name of the gorgeous orange insect.

My favorite parts were allowing the giant brown Caligo memnon butterflies to lap up rotten banana while standing on my finger and examining the diverse chrysalis collection.

You just had to prompt them a little bit and they hopped right on.

Those stripey gel eyes...

The chrysalises tend to be camouflaged based on where that species lays its eggs. These look like flower buds.

I couldn't find any chrysalises within this display of dried leaves.

Butterflies that lay their eggs near water often have metallic pupae like these.

It's hard to imagine this golden jewel blending in anywhere!

I'm not sure what these pupae are trying to mimic.

Outside the Mariposaria, a couple hummingbird feeders attracted the glittering, hovering, buzzing birds. I could have sat and watched the white-necked jacobins, green-crowned woodnypmphs, and white-whiskered hermits all day, but our 4:00pm appointment for the Mindo Chocolate Factory tour was approaching.

A green-crowned woodnymph.

We hurried back through a torrential rainstorm to the small, artisan chocolate factory in the forest.

The tour began with a walk through the factory's garden, where many of the additives are grown.

I never knew what ginger looked like in the ground!

CACAO!!!! (Any Portlandia fans out there?)

Lemongrass after a haircut -- I mean harvest.

Drying racks of cacao beans.

Add caption

A fermenting cacao bean is bright purple inside! Purple chocolate, anyone?

The low-tech blower machine which separates the nib from the husk.

Overall, the tour was interesting, but I was really just looking forward to samples. We each got a little cup of bitter chocolate sauce and added sugar, ginger, sour honey "barbecue" sauce, and other flavorings to our own taste. It was delicious, but definitely not enough! Daan and I had to buy some chocolate bars to try as well. It was interesting to compare this factory to Theo, the chocolate factory in my neighborhood of Seattle. A lot of the concepts were the same -- pure dark unadulterated chocolate, fair-trade ingredients, handmade products, crazy new flavor combinations -- but the main difference was scale. Theo is turning into a national favorite, whereas I don't see Mindo Chocolate Factory venturing out of the clouds anytime soon.

We were supposed to attend a third tourist event tonight, the Frog Concert night walk, but the heavy drizzle and our tired bodies prompted us to spend the night in.

My first night under the princess-canopy of a mosquito net.

My awesome spontaneous traveling companion, Daan the Dutchman.

Before bed, I found myself in pajamas at 8:00pm with nothing to do. I hadn’t brought my computer or any novels to read. Sometimes I love that uncertainty of what to do with my time, a feeling that reminds me of childhood days before homework and internship applications and Facebook. It forces you to be creative.

I pulled out my bird book, my journal, and my red plastic case of colored pencils. I started sketching Mindo’s myriad hummingbird species in hopes that I might learn to identify a few.

I only got through six before the consistent dripping of rain on the aluminum roof put me to sleep.

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A Morning With No Plans

Monday, February 17

Once again, I woke up in my comfortable bottom-bunk in my six-bed dorm room with no plans. Heaven, after the madness of Brazil! I know I’ll get antsy soon, though.

After a breakfast of fresh fruit and bread at the hostel bar, I noticed a hand-written advertisement on a blackboard for a free walking tour of Quito’s gorgeous Old Town, el Centro Historico. Even though I’ve been down here a couple times before, I thought it would be a good idea to get oriented by foot and learn some new historical details.

The Basilica, which is visible from my hostel's rooftop terrace -- along with a panoramic view of the city and mountains.

The Basilica's only deviation from typical Gothic style is its replacement of gargoyles with native Ecuadorian fauna.

There were even Galapagos giant tortoises!

We arrived to the main square just in time to see President Rafael Correa waving from his balcony.

This statue presides over the four historic buildings in Old Town's main square.

The Andean condor represents freedom for Gran Colombia, the original country which encompassed Ecuador, Colombia, and Venezuela. I hope I get to see one of these endangered birds in the wild.

The angry lion represents the Spanish empire, and the broken ship and cross behind him represent colonization and the Catholic church.

I had de ja vu from eating lunch in this very room a few months ago with the GAIAS study abroad group! It feels very different to come upon the place alone.

An Ecuadorian flag between the towers of the Basilica 

One of the seven crosses on Calle de las Cruces.

An elegant courtyard visible from a public rooftop.

We explored the dark, narrow, winding tunnels under this church where a strange artisan crafts market is now held.

After the tour, we all decided to grab $2.00 lunches at Almuerzo Como en Casa (Lunch Like at Home), the restaurant our tour guide had recommended. Then, three chill British guys from the tour and I headed out to play frisbee (YEEEE) at a park. My two-person team smoked theirs, and the guys were all naturals at defense. We asked the trash-collector lady to please leave the foam cups we were using to mark the end-zones, and almost ran over a businessman in a suit who had inadvertently cut across our field. We got lots of smiles and funny looks from Ecuadorians who had never seen a game of ultimate. It was so much fun!!!

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To Gallop On Top of the World

Sunday, February 16

I woke this morning with no plans. However, one thing has been lurking in mind since my last visit to Quito. Months ago I rode the TeleferiQo, a touristy tram, to the top of Quito’s neighboring dormant volcano, Rucu Pichincha, with my friends. We rode horses along a ridge trail, but due to time constraints and my friends’ preferences, we rode for only an hour. It was marvelous to gallop through the high, golden, grassy, foggy Páramo and peer down at the sprawling valley city a thousand meters below. Ever since that day, I had wanted to return and complete the entire two-hour loop. So, that’s what I did today!

On the way out the door of the hostel, I stopped to ask for directions from the travel agency. The other guy in the hall, and Argentine named Martin, overheard my question. “Are you going to TeleferiQo?” he asked me. “Me too!” So we adventured together, and we galloped almost to the top of Rucu Pichincha, right through the clouds.

Here we go!

My friend for the day, Martin, walking up the path while our horses took a break.

Chuciragua, the mountain-climber's flower of the Andes.

Oh, lovely Paramo!

Close-up cushion plant, the kind that can be 800 years old.

The one bird.

Into the cloud!

Go Martin! (I didn't make it up the last scramble to the top, but I think I conquered my fear of heights fairly well.)

The fog moved in as we got closer to the summit.

Dinamita, my horse, had a nursing foal who drank ravenously between outings.

TeleferiQo, from the top...

... and the bottom!

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