It's a bird, it's a plane...

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It’s….a lame duck?

The hike through the Mindo Cloud Forest takes my breath away with its beauty, and the water of Cascada Nambillo takes my breath away with its icy chill. The hike itself follows a dirt and gravel road up the mountainside until it branches off and heads down the slope towards the river. Red and purple impatiens cover the riverbanks, providing an splash of color in amongst the leafy green foliage. The songs of the birds fill the air, but I hear more than I can see. It is a tranquil place, interrupted only by our laughter and stories as we make our way upward and by the occasional Chevrolet hauling wet tourists back down the road toward the city.

This area is so different from the other parts of Ecuador that we’ve been. Unlike the extreme poverty seen in Carlos Luis Burneo and Southern Quito, Mindo is becoming a popular destination for eco- and adventure tourism and it shows. As I sway in a hammock suspended from the hostel rafters, looking out over the mountains shrouded in a misty veil of clouds, I feel both invigorated and relaxed, rejuvenated and troubled as a I ponder over the social dilemmas of which I was previously unaware (or at least, had never personally encountered). This undeveloped landscape makes me feel alive in ways I have never felt before, given me a renewed sense of independence and empowerment. I think back over the past several days seeking some sort of finality, but I find only a work in progress.

Such sentiments could lead to the conclusion I spent all this time stuck in my own head, dwelling about the past and future while ignoring the present all together. On the contrary! I, the ever clumsy, most likely to find herself in some sort of sitution in the great outdoors, lived up to my name practically everywhere we went. First there was the waterslide; an unmarked chute in the middle of the forest that abruptly ended at the base of the rapids near Cascada Nambillo. Being that I’m not a strong swimmer, and actually a bit of a fraidy-cat in general, I still mustered up the courage (with a lot of peer pressure!) to make my way down. Somehow I managed to get myself going so fast I found myself propelled upside down and backwards into the water. “How cool!” they say, “How did you do that!?” No idea and quite frankly I don’t want to do it again to find out. But I am quite proud of myself for trying! I even went a second time just to assure myself that it wasn’t inept at water-sliding and did much better the second time, although the current was so strong my body was quickly carried downstream faster than I could catch my breath. Thank goodness for the rope strung out between the banks to catch yourself on.

On Sunday, after watching a local parade, a group of us went back up into the mountains for some zip-lining. I’m not really afraid of heights so I thought this would be a breeze! Hanging 300 ft above the mountain canopy soaring like a bird getting some fantastic views … what’s not to love? I watch as everyone else harnesses in and perfects the initial rope-line. Nothing to worry about! I eagerly get harnessed in. Ready? Yes…here I go! It’s thrilling. The rush of the air against my body, the dampness of the clouds against my skin…the feeling of my hair catching in the pulley….

I immediately try not to panic.

Too late.

As my head gets pulled closer and closer to the steel cable whizzing, I reach up with hand to try to yank myself free. More hair gets entangled in the device. I tug back with my head, ripping my hair out in order to save my skin. I watch as a clump of reddish-brown hair falls gently down to the canopy below. Well this is just typical. When I land on the other side, the attendants ask me something. Nervioso? No….wait what? I’m in shock. Am I bald? Will I have to cut my hair short (I have a peculiar attachment to my long hair)? I remove my hair tie and loose hair coats the ground in clumps. As I call ahead to those in front, I try not to sound worried as I debate whether or not I should cry. Should I? It’s rather funny. Should I laugh? No, no, this is no laughing matter. But it is! This would only happen to me, the most accident prone girl in the world. Something of this nature was bound to happen to someone in the group and I suppose if the worst injury sustained is the loss of some silly hair than suppose we made it out alright. I was told I was brave; that surely there was an incident at hand but that I my ability to not panic and act rationally was admirable. I’ve never thought of myself that way before, but maybe there is a bit of truth in the statement. Maybe I’m braver than I think I am. Maybe I should give myself more credit and not be so timid when facing the unknown. Regardless, I am now the proud owner of a new layered haircut and the never-ending butt of jokes (Watch your head! Oh ha ha! So very, very witty you are!).

The rest of the experience is unforgettable for better reasons. Watching the clouds move in between the tree tops with the melody of birds and buzz of insects alike is an amazing experience. Just be sure if you have long hair, pull it back in a bun before you do anything…adventurous.

It’s hard to provide an overall summation of my experiences down here. I’ve spent a great deal of time ambivalent about where to go from here and confused in general. My mind is a veritable mess, but messy in a good way in that when I do figure out what all this has meant, some sort of conclusion will result that will make me better off than I was before. I haven’t found myself, but I have found parts that were missing. Now to put the puzzle together.

Overall Tips and Thoughts:

My trip was made much more enjoyable by a previous knowledge of the country and people with whom I encountered. Here is more or less the bibliographic info of the books and articles I read prior to going which enriched my experience (don’t have them all in front of me):

Crowder, Nicolas. (2006). Culture Shock! Ecuador. Marshall Cavendish Corp. New York.
Sawyer, Suzana (2004). Crude Chronicles: Indiginous Politics, Multinational Oil and Neoliberalism. Duke University Press.

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