I escaped Baltimore just in time. I am watching the news and checking the latest information online, and am astonished at the strength and fury of the storm. Emily and her family are sleeping in the middle of the house on the floor, terrified of a tree falling on the house. Everyone is 'hunkered down', waiting out the storm, losing power, collecting water in their basements. There is more to come. I feel lucky that I got out when I did. In truth, other than a little turbulence between Baltimore and Atlanta, I was unscathed. Waking up in Quito sunshine felt wonderful this morning. Pichincha was particularly beautiful, and I felt better with every moment of wakefulness.
Eric believed he could go to the immigration office and get our visas moving forward. It took all day to find a notary to affirm copies of birth certificates and bank statements. The immigration officer at the airport was asking me about my visa yesterday and urged me to proceed with it, but I am still insisting that I will not return for another seven hour fruitless wait. Eric was with Melissa searching for a willing notary, and found it difficult, if not impossible. He has to return to a notary tomorrow for more signatures, and then hopes to go to the office without me and Maya and procure the visa. I do not believe it will go smoothly, and I am not volunteering to accompany him.
Exhaustion was the order of the day. I went to Spanish class as planned, and distributed the items that had been ordered by Amparo and other Spanish teachers. I felt like Santa Claus. I checked on items being delivered to my house in Baltimore and made sure that our neighbours picked up the items so they would not get wet in the storm. I talked through the four hours with Amparo, but did not think much, and avoided doing any real work. It is amazing how I can pretend to speak the language.
I felt better by the afternoon, and took a stroll through the Mariscal, glad to be back in Quito and in my 'downtime' schedule. I visited Isabel while Maya was at ballet, and tasted 'colada morada', a drink made with fruits and purple corn, traditionally consumed for the Day of the Dead, with 'guaguas de pan', little baked 'babies'. I was told that I was drinking the blood of the dead and eating their flesh, or at least that is what the indigenous believe. It was delicious but creepy. I had not seen Isabel of Erika for a month, and it was good to share their energy and watch Isabel prepare a dish of cows intestines (I refused to try it!).
It is not easy to return to my rhythm here. The past week was so intense and stressful, and now I must relax, and enjoy my freedom and stay in the moment. It is good to be home with my family and my projects. I made a great lentil soup and chocolate cookies that flattened in the oven. I am still working out the altitude baking. At least I had a whole box of bicarbonate of soda to use.
Eric believed he could go to the immigration office and get our visas moving forward. It took all day to find a notary to affirm copies of birth certificates and bank statements. The immigration officer at the airport was asking me about my visa yesterday and urged me to proceed with it, but I am still insisting that I will not return for another seven hour fruitless wait. Eric was with Melissa searching for a willing notary, and found it difficult, if not impossible. He has to return to a notary tomorrow for more signatures, and then hopes to go to the office without me and Maya and procure the visa. I do not believe it will go smoothly, and I am not volunteering to accompany him.
Exhaustion was the order of the day. I went to Spanish class as planned, and distributed the items that had been ordered by Amparo and other Spanish teachers. I felt like Santa Claus. I checked on items being delivered to my house in Baltimore and made sure that our neighbours picked up the items so they would not get wet in the storm. I talked through the four hours with Amparo, but did not think much, and avoided doing any real work. It is amazing how I can pretend to speak the language.
I felt better by the afternoon, and took a stroll through the Mariscal, glad to be back in Quito and in my 'downtime' schedule. I visited Isabel while Maya was at ballet, and tasted 'colada morada', a drink made with fruits and purple corn, traditionally consumed for the Day of the Dead, with 'guaguas de pan', little baked 'babies'. I was told that I was drinking the blood of the dead and eating their flesh, or at least that is what the indigenous believe. It was delicious but creepy. I had not seen Isabel of Erika for a month, and it was good to share their energy and watch Isabel prepare a dish of cows intestines (I refused to try it!).
It is not easy to return to my rhythm here. The past week was so intense and stressful, and now I must relax, and enjoy my freedom and stay in the moment. It is good to be home with my family and my projects. I made a great lentil soup and chocolate cookies that flattened in the oven. I am still working out the altitude baking. At least I had a whole box of bicarbonate of soda to use.
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