We interrupt this city tour to bring you: Hats!

The hats of Ecuador.

Okay, so the one on the left is actually from the states. But it definitely keeps the strongest UV rays I've ever encountered in my life from coming into contact with my skin, so I posit that it belongs here in Ecuador along with the rest.

Next we have a hat from the coast. Again: wide brim to block out the sun.

Moving on, we have our volunteer modeling the Sierran style Fedora or Panama hat.

And finally, the young lady on the right gives us the latest in city fashion. You, too, can buy your own sequined Guayaquil bling, found for less than $5 at your local Bahía.

More of Guayaquil

If you want to head downtown from where I live, there's two easy ways to make the trip: you can walk four blocks and hop on the Metrovia, or you can walk four blocks in the opposite direction and catch a city bus. Either way, it's 25 cents flat fare.

This is the Metrovia stop. The Metrovia is one of those buses with the accordion middles. At every stop there is a turnstile and an armed guard. It's all very official.

A good place to get off in the Centro - downtown - is at the Correos stop.

Correos = mail.

My mailbox is on the outside of the building, which comes in handy if I happen to check my mail on a Sunday. Most people's PO boxes are located in The Vault:

The Vault contains many, many more rows such as the one pictured above.

Each row contains many, many mailboxes.

The many, many mailboxes are in numerical order, but only kindof.

Good luck finding your mailbox for the first time.

From Correos, it's just a few blocks to la Bahía. La Bahía is a labyrinth, truly, and of epic proportions. It sprawls in a shapeless mass over city blocks, jumping across highways and main roads, cramming stall after stall one beside the other, stuffed full of all kinds of wares. Clothing, shoes, electronics, kitchenware, sports gear, bedding, DVDs...etc.

The boundary of la Bahía is well defined from the outside, but once you take the plunge, it's easy to completely lose your sense of direction. Every available space is taken up with Things, and everywhere you turn your head are more Things. Things, things, things. The outside gets swallowed up by Things and disappears. And all the Things look the same. Even craning your neck upward is no help, as the roof seals you in and prevents the possibility of getting a bearing from surrounding highrises.

Any serious foray into la Bahía must be undertaken with the understanding that it will (a) take much longer than expected due to getting lost, and (b) will most likely end much further from where it began. And possibly (c), that it will require much sustenance beforehand, or else a stop for food at some point among the wandering. It's all about stamina and endurance. And not caring that you have no idea which direction you're walking. And being able to haggle prices and start walking away from what you want in order to get it.

Usually, after a trip to la Bahía, I find that a nap is in order. And now we will take another break, because just thinking about a trip there is exhausting me...Sweet dreams, everyone.

I Do Not Recommend Toting Your Camera Around Guayaquil And Taking Pictures Of The City

Even though that's what I did. And I lived to tell the tale, and so did my camera. I'd like to think this is due to the fact that I wore a fierce scowl the whole time; I've found that putting on my Scrooge face is the most effective way of discouraging unwanted attention from strangers.

Now that Molly is safely home, I can unveil my photo project, which was a farewell gift to her and showcases some of our favorite spots in the city.

Here goes...

The Park

This is the park where we run, first thing in the morning or in the evening just before the sun goes down.

The park takes up one block of a residential neighborhood. This means the track is tiny, and it takes approximately 1 minute and 30 seconds to complete one lap. Perfect for when you feel like you're going slightly crazy and need to run in frantic circles.


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Encebollado. Pronounced in-seh-boy-YA-doe. This is what true Guayaquilenians eat for breakfast. It's a fish stew.

Now, before you turn up your noses, please hear me out. The seafood here is fresh and flavorful. The people here know how to prepare the food so as to best bring out the flavor. Encebollado is not overly "fishy," and it will not make you gag. Unless you're determined to gag, or unless you really hate tuna. It's also reputed to be a good hangover cure, but I wouldn't know anything about that, because I'm a lady, and also because my grandparents read this blog (hi, grandparents!).

Encebollado is prepared by putting all the dry ingredients in separate bowls. When someone places an order, the ingredients are then assembled in a serving bowl, with the liquid added last. This ensures that everything is full of flavor and not too soggy, and that your stew is thick and hearty.

Ingredients include: Fish (usually tuna), yucca, tomatoes and onions, and a sprinkle of cilantro. Plus the liquid (more on this below). When your bowl arrives, you squeeze some lime juice into it. And for the final touch, throw in a handful of chifles - salty banana chips - to soak up all the good stuff. My stomach is growling just thinking about it.

Establishments throughout the city vie for the title of "Best Encebollado." There are many components to a deceptively simple recipe. The manner in which each ingredient is prepared affects the entire dish. If the fish is too tough, it is not fun to eat. If the tomatoes and onions are not minced properly, they get stuck in your teeth and become an annoyance rather than an asset. But the integral ingredient, the stuff that pulls all the rest of it together, is the liquid. This is the secret ingredient, and it can make or break the dish even when all else is perfectly prepared.

Generally speaking, the best encebollados are found at mom & pop places, places that have developed the "perfect recipe" over time. And people here take their encebollado seriously: once they find what they think is the Best Encebollado in the city, they go there and only there to get their fix, with unwavering loyalty, for the rest of their lives. They will vouch for "their" encebollado place among all others. People get into fights in the street over the stuff. (Not really - that's reserved for soccer.)

Of course, there really is only ONE perfect encebollado, and I will let you in on a secret: it can be found at this family's restaurant.

They make it with TLC and the secret soup recipe that is better than any other in the city. It is perfect.

And now this tour of Guayaquil will be cut short and continued at a later time, because right now I have to go eat.

Yesterday

Before I even started thinking about applying to Peace Corps, before I landed here in Ecuador, two volunteers carried out their two years' service in Guasmo Sur. The first one arrived in 2006, and the second in 2008. Those were my freshman and junior/senior years of college, respectively. It's strange to think that before Peace Corps was on my radar, other volunteers were already here, living and working and meeting people.

People I would eventually come to meet and work with and live among. These volunteers paved the way for me, and I am very grateful to them. They did a fantastic job, working hard and coming up with creative ideas, so that by the time I got here, people knew what to expect from a volunteer.

Yesterday I got the chance to meet one of these wonderful women. We spent the afternoon together, comparing notes on our experiences as volunteers and walking the streets of Guayaquil. For me, it was as if I were looking at both my past and future in one person: she was able to recount for me the way things were three years ago when she was here, and she also described how her two years in Guasmo Sur shaped and changed her to become the person she is today, doing the work she is doing today. It was spine-tingling, I tell you.

As we walked towards my house, she exclaimed when she realized where I live - a mere block away from her old home. The store my host family owns used to be her go-to grocery stop. She rushed right in and greeted my host father, who greeted her right back.

It's amazing how she knows the same city I do, but in slightly different ways than I. And the city knows her, too.

At the end of the day, it was a relief to sink my head onto the pillow and fall asleep securely in the present. Being almost midway through our service, my training class will soon enough have to start thinking and planning seriously for next steps after Peace Corps. But for now I'm enjoying the luxury of taking one day at a time and not worrying too much about tomorrow...

Chuzo!

In Ecuador, "chuzo" means "shish kebab." It also serves as an exclamation when something bad happens, denoting the general hopelesness of the situation.

Chuzos are exactly what we made to celebrate this July 4th, because ever since my parents visited, the grill has been sitting up here on the terrace, waiting patiently. And The Law Says that if there be a grill available on the 4th of July, it Must Be Used.

By the time I remembered to take pictures of the whole process, however, the food had already been cooked and eaten. (Chuzo!)

I did, however, manage to find the American flags that had been packed in my original luggage upon coming to Ecuador. Pure magic.

Our party consisted of 12 guests representing three countries: Ecuador, the USA, and Spain.

Ecuador provided the beer,

and the USA provided the cookie cake.

Spain provided funding for more beer when the supply got low.

PCV Amanda lives upstairs from me now that Molly has moved out, and it was she who initiated this celebration. Together we went to the market and haggled our way into a basketful of fresh vegetables; one pineapple; one watermelon the size of a small child; and one chicken breast we sincerely hoped was fresh. Then we lugged everything about a block. Then we took a taxi the rest of the way home.

Anyway, Amanda and I are good neighbors. We don't lend each other a cup of sugar; we share sugar out of the same tupperware container. What more is there to say?

Cookie cake, full of neighborly sugar, we salute thee. Que viva friendships both in and outside of the USA. ¡Viva!

Media Maratón

Today some PCV friends of mine got up around 5am and took a taxi to the stadium - they were going to run a half marathon.

I was not running a half marathon.

So I, coldhearted person that I am, did not get up at 5am to see them off.

After sleeping in a couple extra hours - hours during which my friends were running, panting, sweating, battling amoebas, and praying for it to just be over - I got up in time to meet them at the finish line.

Smiling faces abounded.

And somewhere along the 13.1 miles (21 kilometers), friends were made. The kind of friends who pace with you. The kind of friends who grab your shirt and drag you along when you start to lag behind.

Check out the snazzy shirts the girls wore:

Very official. And on the back:

This pretty much holds true for running in the city as well as the campo (countryside), only substitute "buses, cars, and taxicabs" for "livestock."

And my inner grammarian must point out that "campo running" is not a verb; it is a noun. A gerund, to be exact. Nonetheless, it is for such a T-shirt that I desire to run the half marathon in Guayaquil come October. I must train...especially because everyone today finished right around 2 hours, and my delicate sensibilities would be forever ruined if I could not at least meet the same standards of these highly trained runners who take their sport COMPLETELY SERIOUSLY, no fun allowed.

July 1st

Today as I was out and about in different parts of the city, I saw three different school parades. Girls were dressed up in the flounced, flowy coastal skirts in Guayaquil colors, and boys were dressed as Juan Pueblo.

Last year when I asked who Juan Pueblo was, all I understood was he's something of a mascot for the city. Kinda like this little guy for the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta.

The difference being that Juan Pueblo, unlike Izzy, is recognizably human. (I pledge to investigate Juan Pueblo further for your future enlightenment.)

Why all the fuss today? Because the 25th of July 1547 (or 1535, depending on who you ask) was the day Guayaquil was founded. And in true Ecuadorian style, ya gotta party all month leading up to the celebration date. It seems like every school and high school in the city had a parade today. One elementary school parade even had a cadre of young guerrilla warriors decked out in camo.

The high school behind my house put together a somewhat tamer presentation featuring a marching band.

I could hear them the whole time as they completed the circuit of side streets near the school, playing marching tunes and yelling "Que viva Guayaquil!"

Welcome to July.