Shalom yáll. Here´s another one for ya.

So after we last parted, I went to a fesitival in a town way up in the mountains called Cangouya. It´s so high up, that their next door neighbors are inca fortresses. Pretty sweet, I know. And a bunch of drunken american archiologists were there to tell me all about the history, which made it even better.

Anyway, the party was a bunch of fun. Dancing into the night, and eveyone wanted a piece of the exotic gringos. And by everyone, I mean a drunken homeless guy just couldn´t stop dancing with my attractive blond friend. That, and this little girl couldn´t get enough of me picking her up above my head. I have as way with kids, you know. Either that or i was the tallest person she has ever seen, and the novelty was just too much. Anyway, it was super fun, and at one point this guy wearing some kind of pre incan devil mask came up to me and offered me a drink of the foulest smelling stuff i have ever come across. Anywhere else in the world, and i´d not only deny that in a heart beat, but also probably kick him in the shins and run home, then cry alone in my room. However, this behavior is not acceptable here, so i basically had to try it. It tasted even worse than it smelled, and the texture was even worse than the taste. So I braced myself, along with the little girl on my shoulders, and just kept dancin.

By the time the party was over, there were no more buses, so my friend and I had to pay some guy in a truck to take us home. We paid 11 bucks, wich is a fortune, but the place was about an hour away up in the mountains, so i guess it was worth it. After we dropped my friend of in her village, the driver turned and told me he didn´t know how to get no mine. No problem, i had walked back and forth a bunch of times. The hour walk should only take about 15 minutes, right?

Turns out, walking in the day and driving at night are 2 vary different things. We got real lost. After about half an hour of this crap, the driver had had enough. He yelled something in spanish, then slammed on the brakes and got out of the car. Sweet. I said to myself, im about to get thrown out of the truck, and possibly robbed. Luckily, he just took the longest piss i´ve ever even heard of, which at this point made me question his sobreity. Luckily i hadn´t paid him yet, so if he wanted his money he was going to have to stick it out and drop me off.

Which he did, but he was pissed. He wanted more money, which i didn´t have. I had him drop me off at my corner, figuring it was better to risk the crazy dogs than to have this guy know where i live. I think the decision was worth it, but only because i´ve taken to talking witha big rock after dark do defend myself against crazy dogs.

Anyway, that was saturday, and sunday was fun as well. Everyone in my town got up and danced all the way to Cayambe, which to them about 3 hours. I use the term dancing loosely. They definately favor quantitiy over quality here. For the 6 hour round trip they did the same 2 steps. I didn´t have the requisite attire (for example, my host dad wore a clown costume) so i just toke the bus. suckers.

anyway, remember that nasty drank i tried? We´ll it turns out its called chicha, which is kichwa for ´´this is garunteed to give gringos diahhrea´´.

And it did. In fact, i´ve shit twice since starting this blog, which is 6 days after the fact. I´ve been going strong since sunday evening, every hour on the hour for most of the time. You could set your watch to it. The pooping itself isn´t so bad, just the fact that its so frequent i havn´t really been able to sleep at all this week. Combine that with the fact that i couldn´t eat for three days, and you´ve got yourself an unhappy camper in one of those character building situations.

I did see a couple cool things this week though.

one. In the campo, fireworks are crazy. They don´t shoot them up in the air. They just build this big structure out of balsa wood, to which they attach about a billion of the home made wonders. Then they light them, and this guy runs around and spins the structure by its bottom. All the while, he is (along with most of the closly packed crowd) showered with sparks and shrapnel. I think the tall people get most of the bad stuff, which explains whey no one here is about 5 feet 2 inches.

two. crazy dog sex. The dogs here get it so regularly that they have to resort to crazy positions to keep themselves entertained. It´s like their gloating. Bastards. And it´s not only couples. The other day my friend saw an all male doggy threesome.

Anyway, as far as mental health goes, i´m doing better now. I´m not going to lie, crapping 60 plus times within a 4 day period in a third world country isn´t exactly the best pick me up ever, but all that time on the john has given me a lot of time to think.

I realize that comparing my living situation with others is kind of stupid. Even though i definatley have the worst living situation out of anyone in my training class, im sure somewhere there´s someone in a hut that has floors made out of broken glass and doesn´t have enough money to buy shoes. He probably also has dengue fever, which is a hell of a lot worse than pooping every once and a while.

I also realize how childish complaining is. I really can´t stand it when I hear someone who I know has it better than me complain. Imagine how the guy with glass floors feels when he hears me complain. He´s probably pissed to, so i should probably stop doing it. I bet you he has a pretty short temper.

That being said, i´m doing everything I can to get myself in a better mood, and I think its working. I realize that I´m not going to do any good here, or be any fun to hang around with if i´m down all the time.

Looking forward, this weekend is a cultural trip. It should be really fun. I wish i could tell you where it is, but i have no idea. Right now I´m focusing all my attention on not crappy my pants on the bus ride there.

A special thanks to

Jon
Mack
Carolyn
EMILY
mom
dad
brian
and tommy gill

Your emails really help. Keep them coming. And Tommy...just try to keep your head up, and thanks for reading my blog.

hasta luego,
kleece (which is chris in spanish)