Saturday, August 2

Can you believe it? I'm lounging comfortably in shorts and a t-shirt, couched in the friendly pressure of warm moist air. I just took a cold shower and feel extremely refreshed and content. Whew. We have arrived at the coast in the small, poor city of Esmeraldes, where Gabriel spent much of his childhood and his father still lives.
Last night we went to the airport to pick up Julia and Lisa (Sara's friends from Macalaster). I think I teared up about ten times just being int he airport and seeing people reunite. I have determined that these bursts of excessive emotion (that i've been consistently experiencing on this trip) are not bursts of pent-up sadness, but are exclusively confined to moments in which I witness expressions of hope. What a cornball. Anyway, Lisa and Julia did not have my "five-minutes through customs" luck and we ended up waiting on the floor of the airport for hours. A bit stressful, but bearable.
Todays' six-hour bus ride cured all! The second half became balmy and as I took off my shoes and socks and released each toe, coiled my hair up to cool the building moisture on my neck, I felt...gosh! What was it? A little like I was going home, a little like I was headed off into tropical paradise, and mostly like my body was freeing from the tepid clench its been in for a month. I sat with Esteban and once again we chatted--I mean really really chatted in Spanish. I was pleased with how fluid it felt. During all this, platano and palm groves were flashing by out the windows- big leafy green seas and shacks with plants growing out their ears and fertile flowery sweaty smells.
When we got there we immediately went out to eat--directly in the city of Esmeraldes (a harrowing 15-minute taxi ride from Gabriel's house on the outskirts). A fascinating tidbit: Esmeraldes is the only place in Ecuador in which black people constitute the majority. Evidently a slave ship headed for the Caribbean crashed in Esmeraldes and the slaves escaped and populated the city. It is an interesting place. The attitude here appears to be much less polite than in the Sierra (the term for the portion of Ecuador in the Andes). I had been told this ahead of time, and at our restaurant I noticed it--it seemed to be trendy for the waiters to assume an expression of utter indifference and sort of slink around, bringing us things we didn't order, walking or turning away blatantly when we were in the middle of ordering. Sort of like a weird pervasive teenage mindset hanging around the faces and movements and words of all those I've interacted with thus far. Who knows. my perceptions could certainly change.

At this moment, Sara and Gabriel and Esteban have gone to a rock concert and Lisa and Julia and I have been left here to drink water and bond. They've gone to bed now and I'm not sure if it's 9:30 or 1 in the morning. None of the clocks work. For hours we've been sitting in these low seats around a high bar drinking water and talking up a storm about recycling projects and boys and Alzheimer's and Lisa's farming program and languages and toe movments and Julia's brother. What a wonderful time! We finished a gallon between the three of us.