Chronicles of the Wayward Moot

WELCOME TO THE MOOT, oh world-wanderers and word-whisperers. After two years of Peace Corps. After 2,200 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. What. Comes. Next?

2/07/2006


***Creatures of the night.***
I was invited down into the valley again by some of my friends in town and this time it was to go to a small carnival set up to help usher in the copious festivities in this area during the month of July. (Since North American gringos had a pretty significant share of the gold mining operation here in the last couple of centuries, there are some wild 4th of July parties especially in the city down in the valley where the carnival was.) This pic is of me and a really sweet girl I've been helping work on her English. Next to her is her cousin. We're about four stories up on a ferris wheel. Ferris wheels here are not like those at home, i.e. slow and boring and retarded. The carnie operators in South America know better than to drag a huge contraption like that out into the boondocks on windy mountain roads just so the carnival-goers can make fun of it and call it slow and boring and retarded. They make the thing go so fast that it was more like a rollercoaster than a ferris wheel. Combine this with my amoebas going nuts and you have the recipe for either a great time or a disaster. I wonder where she got that shirt. Pretty sure she's never been to New York.

Hard to believe, but this pic I took while riding on one of those "swinging pirate ship" rides. On either end of the ship, someone handy with a blowtorch and a welder fashioned some cylindrical metal cages kind of like what you'd imagine could be found in a really seedy strip club. The idea is that if sitting down in the little pew seats is not thrilling enough, you can opt for being in the cage during the ride, which allows you to stand up, swing around, drop kick random kids in the head accidentally, and other fun things. I for one had my legs crossed and locked around the ceiling bars and was hanging from them as the ship swung 180 degrees back and forth...until I got yelled at in rapid slurred Spanish by the carnie operator guy. Years ago some friends of mine (you know who you are) went to Belgium and came back with stories of an indoor go-kart arena where they had to wear helmets and sped around going about 60 mph all day. I was jealous jealous jealous after they told me that. Umm, not anymore. Ecuadorian pirate ship ride pretty much makes me even.

A grass-katy-hopper-did manner of beast that came knock knock knocking at my door like "The Raven." NEVER MORE.


We are in the process of moving the tourism office down the bulding to another bigger, newly renovated space that is just breathtaking to behold. This little gecko fella was haunting the old space while the new occupants were moving their stuff in and they begged me to come get a photo of it for them. That's the whole story. He didn't change colors or anything. Noone squashed him. I didn't make gumbo out of him. I just got a photo of him and then helped him scamper off. Not everything can be as awesome as Ecuadorian pirate ship.

Another dusk view from the roof of my Castillo.

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