El color de mis palabras

Chronicles of my six month escapade in Ecuador.

[elcolordemispalabras]

Last Time | Paul Baribeau

Everywhere I go everyone I know comes with Wonder how many more I can fit inside this crowded, crazy heart.

[elcolordemispalabras]

On my last night in Quito, it's raining over Gonzalo Gallo. It's hard to believe that 186 days ago I was tossing under my sheets, trying to pull myself together and get a few hours of sleep before my first official day in Ecuador. I had just met my host parents and had NO idea what their names were, no idea where I lived, who I lived with, where my toothbrush was in my carry on bag or how to say good morning properly in Spanish.

Tonight, over 6 months later, I felt comfortable coming home for the last time. I locked all four doors without any problem: slammed the giant metal one as quietly as possible, knew to turn key in the gated door twice, put my shoulder into the wooden door to make it stick, and lost all my composure at the last glass door.

Goodbyes have always been hard. But they've always been permanent or temporary. I've never had to say goodbye to something as vague as an 'experience.' I've never said goodbye not knowing if or when I'll see someone again, not knowing if I'll ever sleep in this bed, or wake up to Pichincha outside my window.

I've been a total mess this past week, and I can't seem to put my feelings into words at the moment. I just can't believe tomorrow will be the last time I wake up to my wall of windows and to Gladys' pajama-clad self asking me "como amaneciste Hannita mia?"

Lucille Clifton says it better.

"Things don't fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept."

Whelp. That's all I've got. Buenas noches, Quito.

[elcolordemispalabras]

"Growing up is about aiming to succeed wildly and being fulfilled by failing really well.”

Courtney E. Martin

[grammatolatry]

Heather Sommer, Traveler

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Your first time out of the country of your own skin, I didn’t bring a map. You always hated that I’d been lucky enough to pick my way through streets I couldn’t pronounce to find cathedrals, graveyards. If you were a city, you said, I’d only like to know your suburbs. If you were a city, I said, I’d like to know your poor neighborhoods, your inner parts. Read your graffiti. Drink your tap water. Feel your smog and dirt stick to my sweat. Hear your orchestra of sirens and gunshots. I’d know which of your streets to walk. If you were a city, I’d expect to be robbed.

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The funny thing about wishing yourself into the future is that once you've finally reached what you've been waiting for, time keeps moving at whatever rate it wants.

The one and only, Emily D.

[youarethebloodiinmyveinss]

[elcolordemispalabras]

ONE week countdown to the Galapagos. Did you know that shark skin is just a continuation of their teeth? Horrifying.

[elcolordemispalabras]

On August 16th, 2011, I sat down at my newly decorated desk and grabbed the old, wooden ruler I'd found while rummaging through the drawers. I'd been in Quito for less than three days and it had begun to dawn on me that I had already started to regret my decision.

People kept telling me that study abroad would fly by; that it would be over before I knew it. But all I saw were the 147 blank boxes on my calendar, waiting to be crossed off.

For some strange reason, I thought it would be a good idea to stop the calendar in January. I knew that at that point, my family would have already visited and left, it would be 2012 (shit) and that, you know, January and February wouldn't really count in the scheme of things.

Nineteen days ago I checked off my last box. Today, I'm taking the calendar down. I've realized this past week, that the thing I've regretted most about study abroad is the counting I've been doing, the list-making, the room cleaning. There were too many times I let myself get caught up in what was coming up instead of what was going on.

But now, it feels like the past me has given the present me a little gift of sorts—whoddathunk?—and now I have 24 days of unchecked bliss. In two days, I'll be done with my ICRP hours, one of my best friends will land in Quito, I'll be off to the jungle, to mountaintops and the Galapagos, and then this wonderfully transcendent adventure will come to a close.

It definitely didn't fly by. Maybe it stumbled by, or crawled by, or staggered by. But the times where it didn't feel like time was flying or inching along at all, the times when we all just 'were,' those are the ones that mattered and the ones I remember most.

[elcolordemispalabras]

And now I cannot remember how I would have had it. It is not a conduit (confluence?) but a place. The place, of movement and an order. The place of old order. But the tail end of the movement is new. Driving us to say what we are thinking. It is so much like a beach after all, where you stand and think of going no further. And it is good when you get to no further. It is like a reason that picks you up and places you where you always wanted to be. This far, it is fair to be crossing, to have crossed. Then there is no promise in the other. Here it is. Steel and air, a mottled presence, small panacea and lucky for us. And then it got very cool. —John Ashbery

[elcolordemispalabras]

GPOY hiding and being a goof. 

"I photo-bomb myself"

[becauseiamawoman-deactivated202]

Here’s the thing that’s funny about self-love. People say that in order to have someone love you, you gotta love yourself and I think that’s BS. I know many people who are in relationships and full of self-loathing. In fact, it seems like the more damaged someone is, the more likely they are going to be in a relationship. It might not be a healthy one but they’ll be tethered to someone for sure. So listen, don’t go love yourself and think it’s going to complete the puzzle. Don’t think people are going to gravitate to you because when you love yourself, you delete 70% of your dating options because you’re looking for someone who’s equally as happy and well-adjusted, which is a rare thing to find. So love yourself just for the sake of doing it, for being able to look in the mirror without wincing and to take yourself out to the movies and lunch and think you’re great company. Do it in order to stay happy.

Things You Need In Order To Stay Happy « Thought Catalog (via becauseiamawoman)

[elcolordemispalabras]

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White Christmas | Otis Redding

[elcolordemispalabras]

12 hours until my family lands in Ecuador 22 hours until they meet my entire extended host family 61 hours until my first Christmas without snow 9 days until 2012 16 days until I have to start my 5th ICRP option... 32 days until Jessie comes to frolic in the Ecuadorian Amazon 44 days until I get to hang with some blue footed boobies in the Galapagos 56 days until I say goodbye the past 6 months of my life, my new family, white pineapple, 2/3 of my time at K College, study abroad, and Ecuador

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When the birds start chirping, it's time to go to bed

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This one time, I was a vegetarian. A meat-loving vegetarian but a vegetarian nonetheless. Coming to Ecuador forced me to adapt to a handful of things, one of the most noticeable being my diet. Now meat is a part of at least two of my daily meals and vegetables are nearly non-existent. Four and a half months in I'm finally starting to get used to it...most days. I'll be happy to return to a more plant-driven diet when I return to the states, but for now I'm enjoying my corn cooked in pork fat and fast-food chicken.

Some of my favorite Ecuadorian meat comes in the form of local street food. I can't get enough of the overflowing styrofoam bowls you can find on virtually every street corner. The best I've had in all of Quito was by far the typical platos at la Floresta. Sophie and I decided to check it out a few weeks ago after watching Anthony Bourdain visit the famous spot. We tried Fritada, the very common salted pork dish served with llapingachos—potatoe pancakes—a small cabbage salad, mote and aji. We drank morocho—a rice pudding-like drink—and a sort of aromatic tea. We ate empanadas de viento, a chicken with hard boiled eggs dish and some giant caramelized bananas. But the most adventurous dish was las tripas, cow intestines. It was so much better than I imagined. If you can get past the fact that it feels like chewing on a giant balloon, it's pretty great. It was really smokey and slightly spicy after having marinated in a special herb and spice bath. There was a strange, goopy, pate-like substance on the inside of each 'tube' that squished into your mouth when you bit into it. I know, sounds horrible. But the taste was semi-addicting. Although I won't be running back to get tripe anytime soon, I will definitely be trying it again sometime during this food adventure.

[elcolordemispalabras]

The other day, I found all of these photos that had been taken in the past month, presumably while I was at school. Dani, Maria Sol and Marco had fun learning to use photobooth and now I get to have fun making my cute family into a slideshow.

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My inner monologue takes the form of a repetitive, sundress-wearing, four-year-old.

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How to cope with the stress of one 14 page paper, 2 watercolor paintings, 1 ridiculous exam and an unknown number of PAS class essays: learn how to make patacones.