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?


SCARy image i scampered across in a neighboring parroquia while on a photo safari.. silence of the old plastered-on political posters I guess. Yeesh, gives me the creepy crawlies.

Hard at work as a Peace Corps volunteer in a developing country... sitting in the pool reading The Motorcycle Diaries, trying not to get too sunburned. Just off camera, a friend of mine was picking apart two (TWO) chicken heads (HEADS) that she found bobbing in her sopa de pollo. En serio. Con leche. THAT'S a hardcore nasty PC experience, I tell ya.

Riding in the back of a pickup speeding down a dusty road, one needs the very latest in ocular protección. Voila, I bought those wicked mirrored shades just before we left my site for this visit to the river, and let the pair to my local Ecua-friend. She was also in the picture up on the ferris swheel if you recall. Her family is really friendly, and they always beg me to come eat and talk English with them, well with her at least.

It gets lonely at the top of Olympus sometimes, so I took a desolate piece of wire that was hanging murderously from my rooftop terrace and made myself a friend. I did a similar thing camping solo one night in Western Montana about seven years ago. Threw him away though when I got back to civilization. Wonder where that little wire man is now?

A litle cutie pie. And the girl is cute too I suppose. I bought two liters of PURO here from her grandfather, which is homemade Ecuadorian moonshine rotgut made from nothing but unadulturated, unbridled, uncivilized sugar cane squeezins. (Harangutan, I bet this stuff would go MIGHTY fine with some birthday cake, if you know what I mean....)


Anonymous Harangutan said...


5:31 pm  

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