Make sure to go see the towering volcanoes above Ibarra

Those volunteering in Ecuador for an extended period of time should find plenty of opportunities to explore the country. Whether your preference lies on or off the beaten path, Ecuador has something for everyone, no matter your physical shape, time or budget. Here are some recommendations of things to do in this beautiful, diverse country:

1. Visit the hot springs of Papallacta: Just a couple of hours away from Quito, Termas de Papallacta makes for a relaxing day trip from the city. For $7, you can soak in the thermal baths here, while watching hummingbirds buzz around in the surrounding vegetation. For those with a bit more cash, an overnight stay is recommended.
2. Whale-watching on the Pacific Coast: During the months of June to September, humpback whales can be spotted along the coast off Ecuador. Puerto López is a sleepy coastal town from which tours can be arranged to see these majestic animals breaching the water.
3. Quilotoa Loop: For an exciting three-day trip from Quito, visit the remote Quilotoa Loop. Challenging to reach by public transport, the area boasts outstanding natural beauty, a spectacular crater lake, excellent hiking and horseback riding, and a chance to peek into the lives of the colorful local indigenous communities.
4. Maquipucuna: Animal lovers will especially enjoy this eco-lodge, set amid pristine cloud forest and surrounded by spectacular wildlife. In the summer months, the rare spectacled bear can even be spotted! 
5. Iñaquito Market: Typifying traditional local life in the capital city, the bustling Iñaquito market in the north of Quito is a true cultural experience. Come here to buy your local groceries, sample some regional food, or just walk around and take in its sights and sounds.
6. Baños: If you love outdoor activities or nightlife, Baños is the spot for you. During the day, indulge in biking, rafting, rappelling or hiking. At night, hit up the town’s buzzing local night spots. If you’re lucky, you may even get a glimpse of the highly active Tungarahua volcano.
7. Catch the Symphonic Orchestra in Quito: For an evening of fine classical music and the chance to see the best musical talent Ecuador has to offer for only $5-10, head to Casa de la Música. Some events are even free. Check out upcoming events here.


Looking for gifts to bring home from Ecuador? Check out the Otavalo market north of Quito!

8. Climb the mighty Cotopaxi Volcano: Not for the fainthearted, a climb up one of the highest active volcanoes on Earth, Cotopaxi, starts at midnight and takes approximately five to seven hours to summit. It should be undertaken with a licensed guide. Biking downhill from the refuge is also an option.
9. Otavalo Market: Shop until you drop at one of the largest artisan markets in South America. On early Saturday mornings, head slightly out of town to the animal market for some great photographic opportunities. The indigenous market in the center of town (Plaza de Ponchos) is there every day, but Saturday is the busiest day of the week and has the most variety. For those that cannot get to Otavalo, the Mercado Artesanal on Jorge Washington in Quito has a similar range of products.
10. Explore the Jumandy Caves : Close to the jungle towns of Archidona and Tena, the Jumandy Caves can be visited daily. Tours include swimming by flashlight through the dark caverns and plunging into deep pools.

On the Día del Grito de Santiago, a Spanish couchsurfer named Roser came to stay with me. We had a great time, but she found Santiago to be feo, and didn’t understand the reactions of the people here. Since she has light eyes and does not dress like a Panamanian, Roser got gringa treatment: “Am I a dog,” she said, “that they yell at me and talk as if I don’t understand? I don’t know how you live here.”

Roser playing for us at a local hotel.

She went on to ask me how I keep the volunteers I work with motivated in this town. Of course, most volunteers live with host families, which protects them immeasurably from the behavior Roser was experiencing. Nonetheless, I told her if my volunteers are having difficulties, I brainstorm specific solutions for their problems and ways to make improvements and advances. And when a situation is especially bad, or truly unchangeable, the best thing I can do is give up on being positive, if only for a moment. Often a volunteer simply needs to hear the acknowledgement that what they are dealing with is legitimately difficult; they feel better for having had their struggles noticed and appreciated. We accept that things aren’t easy, and we push through because we believe in what we’re doing.

That day, the Día del Grito de Santiago, there was an eighteen-hour-long parade, in which every single school in the comuna sent their marching band (snares, brass, and xylophones, mostly) down Calle Décima, the street which I call home. I spent all morning in my office working with half a brain and trying to identify the xylophone melodies with the other half. These included the Himno Istmeño, Britney Spears, Lady Gaga, some Sousa, a couple of Panamanian club favorites, and a few other standbys.  The parade lasted from 8 am to 2 am, and was followed by an all-night reggaeton party. Talk about extreme positivity.

Despite the celebrations, Roser left early, after only a few days. Since 2009, she has been traveling in Latin America, and has hitch-hiked up from Argentina, earning money along the way singing and selling handicrafts. Roser has seen it all. And yet, she said it was Santiago, with its awkward combination of big-city indifference and small-town xenophobia, that made her stop a moment and think: “maybe I’ve been traveling for too long.” I totally understood the sentiment, and it was so validating to hear it from a seasoned traveler like herself. I’ve had a hard time here, too. And at some point after she left, I realized that Roser did for me exactly what I try to do for my volunteers: she legitimized my challenges. I had been too relentlessly positive with myself; Roser made me realize not only that it was ok for me to be struggling, but also that admitting it to myself and others was not a bad thing. It was a very empowering realization, and I’m grateful to her for it.

Nereida Heller works in Santiago de Veraguas as the Field Director for WorldTeach’s Panama programs. For more about her experiences, check out her blog. The views expressed in this post are Nereida’s own and do not represent the WorldTeach Program or any of its partner organizations.

My bike packed up, ready for an adventure. Bring it on world.

When people ask me why I’m always moving about, I usually respond with some excuse I cook up on the spot. “Oh, well I’m trying to figure out where I want to settle down,” or “I just enjoy the change in scenery.” Both true, but not the ultimate cause responsible for my nomadic tendencies. That would be the Itch. Also known as wanderlust, though I prefer the term ‘itch’ to ‘wanderlust’ as it captures the peculiar tingling or irritating feeling wanderlust induces.

In my previous update on my personal blog, I mentioned that the itch that began growing in Ecuador expected something more than a change from now familiar surroundings. In addition to the tingling sense telling me to move on, another tingling required adventure. It is difficult to describe, but I knew simply jumping across borders would not satisfy this compulsion.

“This is going to be awesome!” I thought to myself. “I am going to do something legendary, and have great stories when it’s over.”

And so I set out preparing an adventure. It was more impulse than careful consideration that ended in my choosing bicycle touring—long distance cycling—through South America as a great adventure. What could be more adventurous than powering myself, with my own two legs, through foreign lands, my ‘saddlebags’ packed full of my worldly possessions, prepared to handle whatever nature throws my way? I envisioned myself the next Amelia Earhart, Captain James Cook, or Lewis and Clark.

The exhilaration of summiting an 11,000-foot pass: something not sold in stores. Crazed look optional.

In the midst of my preparations (gear lists, spreadsheet budgets, route maps, etc.), that annoying side of my brain—you know, the one that pestered me into a Philosophy major—suddenly perked up with a perturbing question that stopped my planning cold:

“But Casey, what is adventure?”

Such a question might sound silly, but those who know the overly-analytical me well also know that I have to answer these types of questions. After all, if I’m planning an adventure, I better have some inkling of what an adventure looks like.

The dictionary is always a good place to start when you want to know what something is:

adventure: [...] 3. a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome.

Seems to be pretty intuitive, no? An adventure isn’t just a risky undertaking, it is a bold risky undertaking, otherwise we wouldn’t admire it as an adventure, but, rather, disdain it as a foolish or reckless undertaking. The second part of the definition also has a certain semantic charm, for who would describe a hazardous action of known outcome as adventurous? Walking in front of a bus is by most accounts hazardous, but hardly an adventure.

So, we have a simple rubric to determine if an activity can be considered an adventure or not:

1. Is it bold?
2. Is it risky?
3. Is it of uncertain outcome?

Huzzah! My bicycle touring plans surely satisfied these three criteria, which should have satisfied that pesky brain. I should have been able to return to the fun questions, such as, “how much water should I carry?” or “should I pack instant coffee or a portable coffee maker?” Unfortunately, that was not the end of my ruminations over adventure.

There I was, surrounded on one metaphorical side by route maps, budget spreadsheets, guidebooks, and bicycle touring blogs, while on the other side loomed the image of adventure placed upon a pedestal, casting its disapproving shadow over the whole lot. How could I possibly claim to be planning an adventure, when every minutiae was carefully considered?

Once you've seen the end of the world, what else is there to see? (Petra, Jordan 2009)

Every centimeter of our little blue-green ball has been scanned and photographed by metal marvels in space. That footage has been analyzed and dumped into your cellphone. Your universally accepted plastic card is a key usable in one of those magic street-side contraptions that spits out money wherever you are (unless it is Discover). Pervasive global communication has annihilated the concept of distance. Using Skype you can wish your dear mum in Boston happy birthday no matter if you’re in Buffalo, Bangalore, or Beijing.

Not to mention those packaged guidebooks detailing every conceivable tourist destination, with precise street maps, and convenient accommodation reviews in three lines or less. Gone are the days of loading out your dog sled train with salt pork, a bushel of apples, and a cask of ale, then heading out into the great white unknown. Between books, e-books, blogs, travel websites, travel magazines, podcasts, and Internet forums, nearly everything you could want to do has not only been done, but been documented in detail online.

All these sources remove the boldness and uncertainty from the equation. You can learn everything there is to know about a trip or destination by reading what others have done without even leaving your home. Moreover, the mere fact that countless people before you have trekked that trail, seen those ruins, or ridden through that country and then blogged about it, makes that undertaking decidedly less bold.

You’re left, then, with just a risky undertaking, but even the risk is tempered by the torrent of information available on the Internet and in books. Every potential mishap can be identified and countered. All that remains is an undertaking, and there’s nothing particularly meaningful or exciting about undertakings. Popping down the street to buy some milk is an undertaking. Hopping onto a plane to the Pyramids is an undertaking. In this light, how is independent travel all that different from mainstream packaged tours? Is travel ever really an adventure in this modern era?

"There's no adventure left in the world! It's all used up!" cries the old grizzly man.

Where does that leave us wanna-be adventurers? Compared to the famous explorers and adventurers, we’re hardly doing anything more exciting than visiting a neighboring town that is more or less the same as ours. Thank you globalization!

Just how much good ol’ adventure is left in the world? If there is any, where and what is it?

This sort of thought isn’t healthy, and I don’t buy into these conclusions. I need to stop these romantic comparisons to famous explorers; it is unfair to ourselves and even disrespectful to their legacy. Adventure still abounds. Achieving it just might take a bit more effort, particularly when it comes to ignoring those modern conveniences that can spoil our adventure with foreknowledge.

There is also something to be said for personal adventure, that is adventure framed in your own personal experience. If you’ve never left your home country, then taking a packaged tour or cruise is definitely an adventure. Hell, for me, navigating the mall during the holiday season can be as much an adventure as climbing volcanoes in the Andes.

Adventure is everywhere, but recognizing it requires a shift in perspective. The English writer G.K. Chesterton eloquently puts this sentiment into words:

An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.
—G.K. Chesterton

Take that pesky brain! Adventure is that which puts me outside my comfort zone. It doesn’t matter if I’ve got a cellphone in my pocket, a guidebook in my pack, and a credit card in my wallet, if I’m pumping 60lbs of bike and gear up an Andean slope, or through a Peruvian desert, by golly, I’m having an adventure.

I encourage you to find your adventure wherever it may be.

For more on Casey’s  experiences and reflections on the road, check out his travel chronicle Elusive Truth. You can also check out posts from past La Vida Idealist writers on biking and adventure in Latin America.

Translate this phrase: “golpe de el estado”

It can be literally translated as punch or hit to the state, but we agreed that the closest translation in English would be coup or coup d’etat.

The phrase, golpe de el estado was all over the papers and the news a few weeks ago here in Quito surrounding the one-year anniversary of the 30th of September (30 S). According to the president, “democracy triumphed” last year when an attempted coup by the city’s police force ultimately failed and he remained in power.

At 3:15 on Thursday, September 29, we had a last minute announcement that school was cancelled the next day because of expected traffic and possible violence surrounding the rallies planned for the weekend. Both the president’s supporters and the opposition party staged demonstrations surrounding their views of 30-S.

The majority of the teachers and students here held the belief that that the president was “celebrating” for the wrong reasons and blew the whole situation out of proportion.

September 30, 2010 was quite a show. In short, the police staged a protest, and closed down one of the main roads out of the airport because of their discontent with a new law supposedly reducing benefits. Correa interpreted this as an attempted coup, and was addressing an agitated group of city police, when things got heated. Correa was in poor health, and the tension grew and a smoke bomb was thrown. Correa was feeling weak so he returned to his car, not before tearing open his shirt, and yelling at the crowd, “If you want to kill me, kill me now.” Correa decided to go to the state run hospital rather than the more expensive private hospital, and while he was being treated, a group of police surrounded the building. The “rescue” can be partly seen here. Several police and military died during the “rescue,” but eventually Correa was driven out of the hospital and gave a speech to his supporters.

As members of the upper class, and virtual carbon copies of their parent’s political beliefs, most of my students have strong feelings against the current president of Ecuador, who has gained popularity as the president of the people. I thought the recent rally and his revolutionary rhetoric would be an interesting topic to bring up in my Language in cultural context class and it certainly generated some discussion. It definitely forced me to reflect on the whole charade. And I can’t help agree with the sentiment that was most common among local staff at our school, that Correa’s insecurities and inability to deal with problems in a calm, measured manner is not something to celebrate. I mean, “A triumph of democracy?” He basically kidnapped himself. But I suppose that exuberance and dramatization are typical of Latin leaders. Maybe that’s part of what makes Latin America unique: the passion, the enthusiasm, the zest for life. And maybe that’s why I’m still here.

Philip Dixon is an English literature teacher in Ecuador, who has just relocated from Guayaquil to Quito, and a devoted mountain biker. For more information on his experiences, check out his blog.

Oh yes: if you’re in Caracas running late, don’t waste time with the buses, a clogged metro, or an expensive, traditional taxi – the adrenaline-filled moto-taxi is the ride for you!  Pop on a helmet and swing a leg over the back, while a mototaxista revs the engine and takes you for a ride that will make you cherish your life.  While anything with four or more wheels in Caracas is trapped by the permanent gridlock that covers the city, the two-wheeled motos are bound by no such limitations, and weave in-and-out of traffic , often squeezing between two cars’ side mirrors with centimeters to spare.  A friend asked me if we had mototaxis in the US.  I replied that it was rather unlikely, given that in the States, motorcyclists actually had to drive in the lanes.  He looked at me like I was crazy: after all, what’s the point of having only two wheels if you can’t use them to your advantage?

A line of Motorcycles waiting for customers on a rainy evening in Caracas

As for the riders?  Depends on who you ask.  I was warned against having anything to do with mototaxistas.  They were all ‘malandros’ (bad guys, robbers); friends told me of having been on the back of a motorcycle and having their drivers squeeze between cars to rob their occupants.  They’re less-inclined than the average Caraqueño driver to follow the rules of the road, and the malandro drivers travel in roving bike gangs at all hours (picture the leaders popping wheelies in the middle of a city street).  But, as always, there are two sides to every story.

A moto-riding friend explained that the Motocross-esque weaving between cars is actually a safety mechanism for motorcyclists.  It’s dangerous for them to stop moving or be caught between cars; without the protective shell of a tinted-window car around them, they’re vulnerable to being robbed or worse.  My own ride was with this same friend, definitely more trustworthy (and invested in my survival) than the average biker off the street.  However when I asked him how he learned to drive, he laughed and told me ‘video games’.

Lianne Gonsalves is currently a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Centro Venezolano Americano. To hear more about her experiences, check out her blog. This is not is not an official Fulbright Program blog. The views and information presented are Lianne’s own and do not represent the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State, or any of its partner organizations.

An amazing Natural Wonder, Semuc Champey

As I write this, we are close to the place where we’re going to do our dive training. We are really excited about getting the training underway. We both love diving, and I’ve been planning and conversing with people from the course for over six months now, so it feels like the fruition of a dream.

We are currently in Mexico City, a place I thought was far too dangerous for travelers (that’s paying too much attention to TV, that is). But as it turns out this place is, to paraphrase a guidebook, ‘the jewel in Mexico’s shining crown’.

Since my last blog and before arriving here, we climbed, and Alex fell 15-feet down (but not into), a volcano.  He passed out (thankfully he is fine now) and we had to abandon the trip – but not before over eight hours of demanding climbing.

Amazing to climb volcanoes, slightly less fun to fall 15 feet down this one!

We also saw the incredible natural wonder of Semuc Champey – a series of limestone pools that really are beautiful.

We visited Tikal – Mayan pyramids that erupt out of the jungle, standing proud above the trees, allowing anyone brave enough to climb one a view out to the horizon.  We were brave enough; actually, we just didn’t look down and didn’t get too close to the edge.

We visited Palenque, a similar (ish) set of pyramids just inside the border of Mexico. I think if we hadn’t seen Tikal a couple of days before we would have been blown away by Palenque. But, where at Tikal you can walk ten minutes off the main path and find a pyramid that you can have all to yourself, Palenque is perhaps the Disney Land of ancient Mayan sites with its coach-loads of visitors.

I should be standing closer to the camera really, sadly I hate photos so this is a close as I like to get.

It’s not all great of course. We stayed at a couple of hostels; places that I generally try to avoid. I think they are okay if you are a young traveler on your own but they’re not great for couples or those who want a touch of quiet and things to be at least surface clean. There are lots of different types of travelers but, I think, often in hostels you get two of my least favorite: those who are surly by day but come alive and get noisy at night (often with the help of drink or drugs) and those ‘one-up-all-up’ types, who get up with the dawn and forget that others might prefer a little longer in bed.

The two hostels had both these types of traveler and this led to six days in a row with very little sleep. I do keep reminding myself that, as much as I would like to go and maim these selfish traveler types, I don’t have to work the next day, to function in the 9-5 world that requires a given level of sleep and that chilling slightly, is good for my heart.

The cutest place we've stayed, it's a shame we shared it with cockroaches but then rarely are things entirely perfect.

So much has happened in these last two weeks, and this is the nature of ‘traveling’ I think. ‘Rush, see, tick, enjoy, hate, love, plan….’ etc However, the main aim of this blog is to talk about what it is like to settle in a place, to perhaps become an ‘ex-pat’ or, if nothing else, to find out what this (to me at least) strange term actually means. In a couple of days time we will be settling down for around four months, and the ex-pat adventure will start for real.

I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified, but then all the best things in my life so far have come with a touch of both.

Dante Harker is currently living in Mexico and training as a dive instructor. To hear more about his experiences, check out his blog.

I have a background in the Oil & Gas industry, totally different from the majority of people I’ve met volunteering down here. Most are environmental science majors, or have a background in language teaching, biology or sociology. My background was in paperwork.

Financial statements weren’t exactly stimulating my creative side, and I wasn’t feeling fulfilled where I was, so at the end of 2009 I left my job, moved back home and went to school to get my Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults (CELTA). The idea for obtaining this certificate stemmed from previously having had volunteered at a local elementary school, and the desire to travel of course.

I left Canada at the beginning of October, and spent a nice, relaxing month in Las Vegas visiting my dad and hiking through the national parks, before venturing out into the world to find an EFL teaching position. From there I traveled solo through Central America for 4 months, starting out in Mexico City. Along the way I met amazing people, had some extremely humbling experiences, and learned so much about life and living.

After being mugged in Nicaragua at knife point, and having everything of value stolen, I had to decide whether to pack it in and head home or tough it out and try to survive on what little money I had left.

Luckily, at the beginning of February, I found a great organization in Costa Rica that was looking for volunteers and needed an EFL Coordinator. Decision made, I headed into the rain forest – to a remote town 2 hours northeast of San Jose.

I hope in the next few months I’ll be able to share some of the great stories that go hand in hand with traveling and the volunteer experience while I continue to learn about this amazing sector I’ve fallen into.

Jen Johnson is from Calgary, Canada. Currently, she’s living in Costa Rica and working as an EFL coordinator at a conservation center.

When I returned home, I read the recipes and their attached introductions from cover to cover; thus began my love of baking and food. Until then, a diet of super-noodles and Prince’s hot dogs through my first year at university had taught me that food was not only functional, but also, pretty awful.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have been known since to snaffle a sausage in batter at four in the morning after one too many Jack Daniels. By no means am I saying that any food is bad; quite the contrary in fact. My point is that the only food that is truly, truly bad for you is food you don’t particularly want to eat in the first place. You know, that the food you continue to consume anyway out of ease, lack of concern, or lack of any sense of culinary adventure.

After my first few disasters with Sue Lawrence’s book, I had learned to make one thing perfectly and took it from there – growing in confidence with every perfect golden biscuit, or soft squidgy loaf.

One of the first major cakes I made on my pastry chef course.

This growing appetite was fed by trips to Paris, where I ate my first ever decent pizza (it was as thin as an LP and came with porcetta and creme fraiche) and Milan, where a Chestnut mousse with marron glace made me melt.

A record-breaking tolerance to sugar, coupled with pure greed, led me to a pastry course, which, after completion (thank you Mrs. Margaret White, my baking tutor), only served to crystallize my love of eating. I have in fact planned entire trips around where I was to eat and what I was to graze on (we are so lucky in the western world to even have the choice!).

If you have a love for something it's always great when you can train and get better at it.

From beach side huts in Malaysia for Roti, to handmade ice-cream in Sardinia – and now to New York, Guatemala, then Mexico; to discover a whole world of delectable edibles. For me, our next trip, is not only a trip of adventure, but a trip also for the taste-buds.

The cake I'm most proud of so far - our wedding cake.

Alex Harker is a pastry chef from Cardiff, Wales, living in Mexico and training as a dive instructor. To hear more about his experiences, check out his blog.

Our last trip was a short, three-week stint around Costa Rica and Panama and before that, other than some city breaks you can check out from June 2008 like South-East Asia.

Those trips were purely about the travel, and though we did some volunteering (teaching, web design, etc.), it was mostly about seeing the sights and being free of most of life’s everyday constraints.

This time it feels much more final. We have sold off nearly everything we own (thank you, eBay!) and managed to pack the remainder of our lives into fifteen small boxes.  It has always been our aim to live and work somewhere else in the world, and that is the real goal of this trip.

Far too much stuff for two backpacks

The basic plan is to travel via New York (just for the fun of it) to Guatemala to improve our Spanish before working our way up to a place in Mexico called Puerto Vallarta, where we’ll spend three or four months training as diving instructors. I am slightly concerned about this as, on their Facebook page, everyone on this particular training course appears to be in their early twenties and I’ve just hit the darker side of thirty (36) – but then I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.

Three more days and we’ll pack our rucksacks, four days and we set off for London for the flight. I think this is the first time, in a very long time, that my future plans actually run out in a few months’ time and after that, I really have no clue where the world may take me.  That is an exciting, yet terrifying, thought.

Dante Harker is currently living in Mexico and training as a dive instructor. To hear more about his experiences, check out his blog.