Colombia and Ecuador

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December 28, 2011
Santa Marta, Colombia
18N 241471, 0955472

We have been camping in the guy Luis´s backyard for a few nights now. We met him when we got off the bus stop and were looking for a place to camp, and he invited us. He´s quite excited about us staying here because he wants to learn English. It´s also kind of funny because he won´t let us speak Spanish.
Something I´ve noticed down here is that the men don´t necessarily treat the women like equals. Actually, most men frequently won´t even address me. They will ask Jared, ¨Is she tired?¨ or ¨Does she want rice?¨ I always answer when they ask, of course, because how would he know? This generally throws them off a bit, ha.
I went SCUBA diving again today in Taganga, a small but gorgeous town lining the coast with beaches on one side and mountains on the other. They were a great couple of dives. It was the first time I´d ever seen huge sponges like that on the reefs. Staghorn coral, giant brain coral, giant tube sponges, barrel sponges (big enough that I could have swam inside), sponges with pink long, fluffy arms, and what looked like orange mushrooms.
My divemaster, Javier, pointed out a stonefish. I never would have seen it as it appears to have the exact same colors and patterns and textures as the coral, but when he pointed it out, I was able to see its eye first, then barely make out the outline of its body. We saw a green moray eel swimming, which is rare because they are normally hiding in rocks and you can just see the head popping out. There were fish of every color and design. They were so bright and varied that it reminded me of snorkeling in Hawaii. There were huge angelfish, I would say 2 feet long, some blue, some yellow and black, some with black and white stripes. I feel like my diving skills are improving. I´m getting better at ´hovering´over the coral, doing a safety stop, and setting up my gear quickly and efficiently. I would really like to be a dive master so I can experience the ocean everyday. But even better would be doing my own research in the ocean so maybe I should work on that.



December 31, 2011
Cali, Colombia
18 N 591935, 1240352

We arrived in Cali last night after a 33.5 hour bus ride. I had a good book and good music, which made the first 30 hours bearable, but by hour 31 I was starting to go a bit insane. I got restless leg syndrome, or ´the hobbobbles´as my mother calls them, which I believe is not a real disease but is entirely in my head, but once the idea enters your head it is almost impossible to stop thinking about it.
Once in Cali, we walked around the four blocks of Christmas lights. It was like ZooLights on steroids. There were also carnival rides, games, foods, and the funniest things were these giant hamster balls that they had little kids running around in.
I remember one time staying in a hotel with my family in Baja, Mexico. My parents were appalled at how dirty the room was - there were hairs on the counter and sheets, and the bathroom didn´t look quite clean. If only they could see the hostel I´m staying in now. It makes the Baja hotel seem like a clean hospital room, with all the tools lined up in a row, glistening with sanitizer.

January 3, 2012
Bus en route to Quito, Ecuador
After 12 hours on a bus to the border and over four hours of waiting at the border to get our passports stamped, we are on our way to Quito.
I am glad to be out of Colombia. Policemen, stationed about every 10 feet on every stree, took joy in stopping us every 50 feet or so to as us where we are from, where we were going, and what we had in our pockets. They did not attempt to conceal the fact that their real motives for stopping us were to stare at me. They would ask a question but instead of listening to the answer would look me slowly up and down with penetrating eyes, and I despised them for it.
The general population was not much better. Although some people were friendly and helpful, we were frequently ignored by the people we spoke to. Even when we solicited their services, it seemed as though our limited conversation was a huge price for them to pay in exchange for our money.
On New Year´s Eve, we decided to see what the bull-fighting spectacle was all about. In the arena, the men were uniformly dressed in plaid shirts and oversized cowboy hats, and the women sat fanning themselves with 19th century style fold-out fans. Waiting for the fights to begin, the men took swigs of whiskey from their canteens and placed bets on how many spears it would take to kill this or that bull. We chose a seat in the back and hunkered down, hoping to remain unnoticed.
In a few moments, a band of about 30 musicians began to play lively music, and the crowd became greatly enthused. A few men, presumably the matadors, came out on horses and paraded around the ring. Both the men and the horses wore flamboyant outfits, combining hot pink with yelllow and red and adorned with bells, beads, and jewels. The men seemed more well-suited for a fashion show than the ring. After they were done parading around, the first bull, Optiz, weighing in a 772 kg, was brought out. It was at this point that I began to wonder why the spectacle is called a ´bull fight´rather than a ´bull slaughter´because five brightly colored men with their brightly colored blankets surrounded the bull from all sides. They took turns baiting the bull to run at them, then ran and hid behind concrete walls built into the ring. Once they had effectively tired out the bulls so that it presented very little danger, they took turns attempting to spear the bull on the back. They put about six spears into its back, enough to seriously wound the bull and render it incapable of a good strong charge, but not quite enough to kill it. Once the bull was tired and weakened, the ´courageous´matador came in to kill the bull, safely on his horse, out of reach of the bull´s horns should it by chance still have the strength to charge. The crowd delightedly shouted Óle!´ everytime the matador was successful in getting the bull to charge his blanket. Finally, one of the times that the bull charged the blanket, the matador thrusted his sword deep into the bull´s back, finished it off. The crowd went wild, seemingly surprised that this group of six armed men were able to kill one trapped bull. The woman in front of me turned around, grinning and foaming at the mouth like a rabid hyena. The ears of the bull were then cut off and presented to the matador as a prize for the ´great achievement.´The matador again mounted his horse and paraded around the ring, eliciting loud cheering from the audience. Women blew him kisses, and men took off their hats and threw them to him in a gesture of respect.
I couldn´t stand to watch more than three of these barbaric fights so we slipped out of the arena, unnoticed by the howling pack of savages surrounding us. I couldn´t undersstand the alure of such a sport. There is no question of who will be the winner and the loser - the bull is always the loser. And with five bulls slaughtered per day for eight days, that´s forty bulls wasted (we were informed that the meat is not eaten).

January 4, 2012
Quitumbe, Ecuador
18N 591936, 1240352

I have already taken a strong liking to Ecuador. As our bus made its way to Quito, I could not peel my eyes away from the window. We wound through the mountains, dotted with light green trees, which were too far away to be identified but I would imagine are some sort of pine. I was surprised at how much of the vegetation is similar to Arizona´s. There were Opuntia spp., Yucca spp., Acacia spp., and wildflowers that I believe may have been of the same family. Although identifying grasses has never been my forte, I saw some that I believe may have been Bouteloua spp.
I am impressed by the city of Quito as well. Situated high in the mountains, it is very cold, but I like looking to the outskirts of the city, where houses dot the sides of mountains and the houses are pastel pinks, greens, and yellows. It reminds me of the children´s game Candyland, where there is a hill made up of colorful marshmellows. I even like the way the people speak here. Their accent is soft, making them easy to understand. I cannot wait to explore the country more.

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