Real Friday; ignore the last post

I can´t really remember exactly where I left off. I think it was last Friday. I think Z made me that oatmeal and cranberry soup. I had class, I´m sure, probably poetry in Academic Writing and review in Survey. I remember having a really hurried lunch because we had salsa class at 1. NOW I remember that I got an email in the morning from Mom; remember how I had been stressing over staying in Quito the week after the program ends? Well, Grandma offered to pay for the plane ticket to Colombia. Yeah, wow, I know. I didn´t know what to think or do and spent the day wondering about it. I didn´t really want to take any more of Grandma´s money because I feel like I do that all the time, but then I remembered Mrs. Richardson. As weird as a memory as this is, I remember that she was our 3rd grade substitute teacher. She told us that if we didn´t remember anything else that she taught us, we should remember to “read, travel, and never let a horse die in its stall.” I figured I have the resources and the opportunity, I can speak Spanish, I´ll be with people I know and like, and I´ll probably never get to do it again, so why not? We´re going through a travel agency recommended by someone´s hostmom and Cartagena is a super touristy city, recommended my Daniel, the safety-freak director of my program at the university here. So I sent I frantic acceptance email to Mom, and ran to salsa class. It was so much better because I had been practicing, and I actually knew the people I was dancing with and could joke around a little. Some of the guys are still a little awkward, but I´m pretty sure they were born that way. I felt way better and even got some compliments on my ability to move my hips (from the Ferenec side, I´m sure.) Afterward we went to the museum-house of this guy named Guayasamín (look him up, he´s pretty cool) who is pretty much one of the most famous Ecuadorian artists, plus he collected precolombian and colonial art. I wanted to show Beth or at least buy a postcard, but they didn´t have any. We went back to our houses and I started packing for Macipucuna right away, fighting with the internet so I could try to skype with Mom, about Colombia. I had to hurry up and eat early because I had to meet people at about 6:15; I ate Z´s food and dressed up a little bit, because Patrick had arranged for a Chiva, which is supposedly super traditional. It´s basically this big trucklike thing with open windows, loud music and space enough to dance, and it drives alowly around the city blasting music. Supposedly you stop at some churches and at the end you crown a king and queen of the Chiva. I met Jacob to walk over to Patrick´s apartment; we found Maddy, Audrey and Proshanti on the way. It was really cool, because nearly everyone on the trip was going AND we had a couple of Ecuadorian buddies who came, too. We all clambered on and danced, although right away I felt my knee slip out of my socket and it hurt like the devil. I sat for a while, but then I figured that I´d never do this again so I figured out how to dance without moving my knee too much, which was made even more difficult because we were driving. There were ropes and poles and stuff to hold on to, and it went so slow that we only ever had problems keeping balance at stoplights. It was really fun to be with everyone and to wave at the people on the street. It was supposed to drop us off at the Mariscal but it didn´t, but after arguing a little it drove us there pretty quickly. We ate French fries, nachos, and wings at an Irish pub (how´s that for a mix of cultures for you?) and went to a discoteca to dance where someone had connections. I danced with this guy who turned out to be the owner of the club, which\who was weird, and none of the guys were smart enough to read my faces to come and save me, so I pulled the tired card and went to sandwich myself between James and Brenden on one of the couches. Since Brenden and I live fairly close we were going to go home (we needed to be at the bus stop at 7:30 the next morning) but we ran into a couple of friends and stayed a little later. On the way home, Brenden gave me the info on Colombia: recommended by his hostmom who travels a lot, flight, hotel, food and drink included, nine kids going with the ratio of boys to girls 2:1. I don´t know if I´ve stressed this, but Z´s favorite thing to tell me before I go out is to make sure there are more “chicos than chicas.” I´ve actually been really good about that, especially since I try to hang out with Jacob or Brenden so I have someone to take a taxi with; Z also is against taking taxis alone. Anyway, he completely sold me on Colombia. The kids coming, in case you have any measure of personality from my posts, are Abby, Margo Z, Brenden, Andrew, Ben, Ben (yes, two), Kevin, and James.