I got the chance to represent Great Divide in The New York Times 36 Hours travel journal featuring Denver. Check out the video and see why I’m so enamored with this wonderful city.
I got the chance to represent Great Divide in The New York Times 36 Hours travel journal featuring Denver. Check out the video and see why I’m so enamored with this wonderful city.
It’s no secret that I believe in energy. I think maybe that has something to do with my (perverse?) love of storms. I remember being little and watching my dad during crazy lightning storms in Kansas. He would stand out on the front porch, just watching, transfixed as the sky cackled and boomed before exploding into bursts of light. My mom was afraid it was scaring me, but I found his serenity calming. It was something out of The Tempest.
The last few days in Colorado have been a whirlwind of thunderstorms, hail, and even tornados. As alarms sounded and weather alerts warned to run for shelter, I found myself giggling, almost maniacally, and running instead to the nearest rooftop/balcony/porch I could find to get a better view. There is crazy energy in the air during a storm, and tonight, after I was fairly certain the hail had passed, I decided to go out for a run and see if I couldn’t soak some of it in.
I like to run at night because I find it to be more meditative than in daylight. I’m not as distracted by cars or other people passing. I have an easier time getting lost in my own thoughts (and let’s face it, that’s rarely a productive activity in its own right). Tonight, with the energy of the storms still pulsating, I got to thinking about my own energy and how it affects the world around me.
Science diagrams won’t help me here, nor will a bunch of fluffy quotes from The Secret (which to the shock of many I have never actually read). Instead, I like to use the visual of warm breath on a cold day. When you step outside and let go of that first exhale, you can see your breath form a cloud in front of you. It sort of hovers there, unsure of its own direction, before dispersing into the air around you, thinning into a light veil until you can no longer tell it apart from the air that stood there before. When you breathe in again, you may not even recognize the trace particles of that first exhale being recycled through your lungs.
I don’t believe in karma in the traditional sense, but I perceive it to work more like that breath into the cold. If I breathe in and out in accord with my intentions, if I breathe out good, then that is what I surround myself with. That good is not always going to be present in my next breath, but it sure as hell is out there, and it will be in someone else’s.
There have been a few situations lately where I found myself wondering how on earth I ended up being so lucky. But the fact of the matter is, I don’t believe in luck. The idea of luck, in my opinion, seems to downplay the influence we all have in manifesting our own realities. I don’t mean this to imply a lack of gratitude, because I am overwhelmed with gratitude for all the beauty that surrounds me. I don’t believe I could ever deserve all that I have been given, but I can try my best to earn it. I want to be worthy of my incredible friends who inspire and empower me every day. I want to be worthy of family that loves me unconditionally. I didn’t earn this body that serves me even when I don’t respect it, but with every breath I suck in as I run farther than I thought I would tonight, I am grateful for the opportunity to fill it with purpose, to fill it with good, and send it back out into the universe to surround me with my own intention.
I don’t believe in karma, but I believe in my intentions. I believe in my breath. I know my tiny brain could never fully comprehend the workings of the universe, but I do know that I exist in it, and therefore I am a part of it. As I see it, the universe doesn’t work for or against you, it just works with its most active participants.
Or at least, that’s what I like to believe after soaking in a storm.
Each year presents new challenges and new opportunities. Life has its ups and downs, but at the end of the day I have been incredibly blessed with so much beauty in my life. We all think we want a million different things, and everyone’s resolutions reflect that. But I think the real goal is just to find happiness. That, to me, is A Life That’s Good. But this song says it better:
So, maybe you’re pretty awesome. You probably are. But maybe you’re not quite as awesome as you would like to be. Sometimes it gets so hard to focus on the things we do well, or the times we succeeded. Our brains seem hard-wired to flash back to our traumas, our failures, or the times where our short-comings embarrassed us. A healthy dose of self-analysis is productive, and is a necessary component in the process of growth and development. But it becomes a problem when we let the realization of all of the ways we are imperfect seep beyond cognition and into our nervous system, paralyzing us with the overwhelming task of deciding which imperfection to work on first. This, in my opinion, is where we face the risk of becoming stagnant in our lives, both personally and professionally.
I’m not perfect, and you know what? I hate that about myself. (You probably thought I was going to say “I’m ok with that!” didn’t you?) I drive myself insane sometimes with all of the things I want to do in life, and then get frustrated with the realization that there could never be enough time in the day to be as good as I would like at all of them.
Looking online these days, it seems like everyone is trying so hard to position themselves as an expert on something. For the actual experts out there, congratulations on your success and thank you for sharing what you have learned. For the rest of us, when did it become so taboo to admit that we haven’t mastered everything yet? How about the value in all the things we’ve tried? Every article I read points out something else that I could be doing better or doing more. I mean, I’m always on the quest for self-improvement, but how do I decide what to do first here? Should I build a robot and train it how to use InDesign to prove I’m tech savvy? Or should I first write a Grammy award-winning song that gains international attention due to my highly successful grass-roots social marketing campaign?
I am not Mother Theresa. I am not Richard Branson. Neither are you. (Well, unless of course you are Richard Branson, in which case…well done on, er…everything). The challenge is to not get stuck staring at the void of space that lies between where you are now, and where you ideally want to be. If you are anything like me, the second you come close to achieving a goal, you make your goal higher and harder to reach. In this way, my standards for success are technically never attainable.
But I believe in life as a constant process. I can’t possibly do everything I would want to in a given day, so I have to focus on smaller steps. I can’t save the world right now, but I can add value to it. Being alive is passive. Living is active. Every time you listen to an upset friend even though you’re dealing with your own problems, you add value. Every time you slow down to help a co-worker who is struggling on a project even though it’s not your responsibility, you add value. So keep your lofty goals and remember that every day that you take one piece of yourself and you twist it, push it, try it on in a new way, look at it from a different perspective, grow it–no matter what other “failures” you may have had–you can pat yourself on the back, because for that day, you lived.
I have loved Colorado since my first visit at 13. I started coming out for spring breaks to ski with my family, and I was a love-struck teenager. While most girls were putting up posters of N’Sync in their rooms, I was taping up my…N’Sync posters. I seriously loved those guys. Lance is gay?? Daaang I didn’t see that coming. Boyz II Men are going on tour? WhaAAAA??
I digress. Colorado: I eventually lost my passion for boys in bedazzled jeans, but I have been pining for you for a long time.
After four years of living abroad, I am now officially living in Denver, and I couldn’t be happier about the move. Everyone who knows me knows how obsessed I am with New Zealand, and it says a lot about Colorado that most of the people I knew before coming here are Americans I met in N.Z.. This got me thinking about the type of person that is drawn to a place like Denver.
Before I even stepped off the plane last Tuesday, I have had people reaching out from all directions, welcoming me and offering to help in any way I might need. I felt at home here before I even had one. This last week has flown by, filled with city exploration, meeting friends, and making new ones. I’m laughing with the dude packing up my groceries, strangers say hi, and everyone wants to share with me why they love it here. It’s infectious. They say that Denver is a city of transplants; people who chose Denver and moved here because this is where they want to be. I say this is a city filled with my favorite kind of people. People who don’t just dream, people who make things happen.
I was at a friend’s place on Sunday for sushibowl (not a typo, they just planned an incredible spread of homemade sushi sans football), and I was surrounded by the most interesting company. Everyone was throwing around ideas throughout the night of various climbs they wanted to do, hikes to try, music festivals to get to, etc. But the best part was what came next; the followup.
Instead of just leaving the ideas hanging in the air, this was a room full of doers. You want to climb but don’t have the gear? No problem, I know who has extra gear. How about this time? And this place? I’ll pick you up. It’s a plan. You want to go to that music festival? Ok, well the two of us can request the press credentials now and get +1s, let’s make it a road trip! So simple. So easy. So efficient.
It’s far too easy to waste time thinking about things that you want to do, or should do, without ever really being willing to take the steps to make it happen. It’s easier still to waste your life on hanging “what-ifs”. So <<virtual fist-pump>> to you Denver. Keep on doing what you’re doing, and I’m going to keep loving you for it.
I don’t want to write this post. I want to skip over the last year and just move on to now. But I know it’s not fair to pretend like everything is sunshine and roses, when anyone who has ever lived in Ecuador knows that is a far cry from the truth.
I tried to like it in Quito. I tried really hard, and I stayed for a year. I have written before about how I believe every city has its personality, and I generally can get a feeling straight away whether or not we will get along. I arrived in Quito last January, and did everything I could to squash the ever-persistent feeling that Quito and I could never really be friends.
Ecuador is still an impoverished country, struggling to develop after the currency switched from the sucre to the U.S. dollar in 2000. Whatever your political affiliations may be, I do believe that president Rafael Correa is doing a lot to make big changes in the country, however the results are yet to be seen. In day to day life, Quito; the capital city; is dysfunctional, polluted, and dangerous.
Despite my best efforts to take precautions, I was robbed in different circumstances four times, and had one–how shall I say–“inappropriate” encounter. I only know a few people who have not been robbed or attacked in Quito. The rest of my friends and coworkers can recount multiple muggings, kidnappings, attacks and robberies. Three of my best friends were victims of the infamous “sequestro express,” or taxi kidnappings. Right before I left the country a coworker was in a taxi on her way home when thieves stopped her cab, stole her credit cards, beat the shit out of her (yes, females receive the physical violence too) and her boyfriend, then drained their bank accounts. She was beaten so badly that she couldn’t see out of her left eye and had to go to a hospital in Miami.
The week before that, another coworker was on his way to campus when he was tapped by a stranger, who had just drugged him. He was luckily only a few minutes away from campus so he started running before the full effects of the drug hit and he passed out in front of the building, where an Administrator found him and took him to the hospital.
I lived with a family for a while, and finally found out that the missing father had been killed when thieves stole his car. One of my TEFL teachers was tied up in her own home by a gang who held her and her boyfriend with guns and machetes as they stole everything in their house, keeping them tied up until they emptied their bank accounts as well.
These are just a few stories. I could go on and on. The police did nothing in any of these cases. This is the daily danger that I lived with, that we all lived with. No matter how many times I tried to dye my hair, I could never blend in there. I was always a target. I hated the way people looked at me. Men stripped something from me every time I walked down the streets with their disgusting sounds and their constant comments. I felt dirty just for existing. We all did our best to put it aside and try to live our lives, but the constant threat to my security was something always weighing heavily in the back of my mind. I could never fully relax. I could never fully lose myself in a moment of laughter. I resented what the city was taking from me, piece by piece, every day.
People regularly asked me why I didn’t leave. Why would I stay somewhere that was obviously so negative for me. But leaving never felt like an option. I had committed to a year at the University, but more than that I had gone there with a goal. I had intended to stay for a year and learn Spanish. If nothing else, I’m stubborn and I’d be damned if I was going to let a few assholes keep me from doing what I wanted. I felt drained and stripped by the end of the year, but leaving felt like giving up, and I refused to let them win.
I feel a bit guilty in writing this. I have said this before and I’ll say it again, this by no means represents everyone in Ecuador. I have met some amazing people, and there is some incredible natural beauty to be found in the country. I think if I had lived in a different city or in a small pueblo, my experience would have been different, and who knows, I may have even loved Ecuador. But I didn’t. And this was my experience. And this is what I can share. Do I regret it? Hell no. Everything serves its purpose in life, and I am stronger for it. (Plus, I now speak Spanish!)
Before I decided to go to Ecuador, all I read about was how beautiful it is. While I saw a few mentions of danger, it appeared as though that was a stigma of the past and with some simple precautions there was no need to worry. The reality is very different. The country is struggling for change, but still a far way away from any sort of political or economic stability. I do genuinely believe that Ecuador will be a much different country in ten years. And I do wish the best for it.
I’m sorry it didn’t work out between us Quito. It’s not you, it’s me.
No, actually, I’m fairly certain it’s you. Ya… it’s definitely you. I hope you get some help with your issues. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.
This year in Ecuador has been one of the most challenging times of my life, but maybe it was the push I needed to decide that after 4 years I am finally ready to move back to the U.S. and establish myself somewhere. Saying goodbye is hard, and having to say goodbye to the people you love every other month is exhausting. I tend to write mainly about the crazy adventures and funny mishaps of life on the road, but here is a song about some of the woes of traveling, shot from my roof in Quito. Baby I’m coming home :^)
I love to camp. But let me tell you, camping Ecua style is a whole different ball game. What started as a couple of friends throwing around the idea of getting out of the city turned into a fourteen person debauchery. Under the impression that we had two cars, twelve of us gathered at Lisa’s apartment, each laiden with excessive gear to camp in the cold for the weekend at the foot of Volcan Cotopaxi.
Trying to coordinate fourteen people coming from all over the city on a Saturday morning was difficult enough (what with everyone remembering last minute errands they needed to run, forgetting things, needing to weave their own sweaters, etc), but when we all finally arrived, we discovered unspecified “drama” had gone down and we were left with only one car.
Now normally taking a bus wouldn’t have been a big deal, but you can only take a bus to the park entrance, and from there you need a car or you will be walking for hours in the dark. On top of that, you can’t get cell reception, so if anyone were to take the bus we wouldn’t know how to coordinate meeting up, as there is no actual camping area.
Right, so, camping attempt fail? Ha. What sort of sissys do you think we are? Fourteen people can fit in one car, come on!
As we set off and settled in to the numbness in our limbs, we were feeling pretty impressed with our efforts, until we realized we were missing something. Someone is more accurate, and make that two someones. Hilde and Xavier! They would be waiting for us on the side of the road some 20 minutes outside of Quito! We should have realized it was almost too easy to fit all of us in the car, we were only twelve! Having decided it was futile to warn them what was coming, we watched the shock on their faces as we slowed on the highway, pulled them by their limbs into the last available pockets of space, and continued driving.
And then came the rain. Hard. Having heard the park closes at 4 pm to new visitors, we couldn’t waste more time stopping to cover the gear (and the boys in the back), so with mystery hands moving about like the writhing polyps of Ursula’s garden in The Little Mermaid, we managed to pull a tarp from the gear on the roof and cover our goods while continuing to speed along the highway. Despite feeling a little bit guilty for our more comfortable position inside the car, the girls finally decided to shut out the boys and close the back window, as water from the tarp was draining down our necks. Thankful for the remnants of old school chivalry that led to our lofty position, we started chatting and enjoying the comparative tranquility of our ride, until about 30 minutes later when we realized: hang on, it’s a bit too quiet back there. What’s going on? Are they alive? Are they miserable? Can they breathe under that thing?
We hurried to open the window and lift the tarp only to find six guys grinning from ear to ear. What were they up to??
Puntas is what. A strong “that sh*t will eff you up” kind of Ecuadorian alcohol that Wilson had brought along. They were drunk. But they were happy. Which got us thinking, and thinking, as it often does, got us drinking as well.
As we stopped for a bathroom break, the evening chill began to settle in and we realized we were fourteen wet and cold people lacking nature’s natural warmers: firewood and alcohol. We stopped on a random road and everyone took off in different directions, all on missions. Although we were in what seemed to be a bit of a ghost town, everyone returned from behind abandoned buildings and random corners with empty bladders, firewood, and alcohol. Missions accomplished.
We reached the park just before dark, where we soon encountered our next obstacle. The guards didn’t want to let us in. Partially because it was late, partially because half of us were gringos and they wanted us to pay them, aaaand partially because one of the boys fell over in front of them. Edison, whose car we were in, got back in the driver’s seat and announced that we weren’t allowed to be there as he simultaneously sped us off further into the park. Next thing I know everyone is out of the car, trying to move a giant tree that had fallen over so we could drive into the woods, replace the tree and cover our tracks, effectively hiding ourselves from the guards.
We parked the truck, and raced against the setting sun to get all of our tents set up and a fire started before it got too dark. Despite the wet firewood and Lukes hindering (though well intentioned) attempts to “help”, Dan finally got a fire going and we all tucked in around the warmth for a night of fireside jams, an Ecua attempt at s’mores, hot dogs inadvertently left in their plastic wrap, and (the most important factor of all) good company.
(NOTE: Due to cold and alcohol, some flesh and gear were charred as a result of this campfire. Campfires created as a result of this post are to be assumed at your own risk.)
The next day we wandered around the park, enjoying the fresh air and open space, sans complications, before heading back to the concrete jungle of Quito to resume our city lives. Until the next time that is.
Need some travel inspiration? This will get your wanderlust working overtime!
I think I must have some masochistic tendencies, as I seem to enjoy making my life a lot more difficult than it probably needs to be. Ya, I just moved to a new country where I didn’t know anyone before I arrived, and ya I am still not fluent in the language, and ya I’m just getting started at a new job that is different than anything I have ever done before, and yes I have to go to the bathroom but I haven’t had time yet today, but you know what? Yes. Yes I would love to sign up to run a half marathon in the Andes, 3000m/ 10,000ft above sea level! And while I’m at it, sure I’ll write a children’s novel!
Why do I feel so dizzy? Hmmm, I feel like I’m forgetting something? What is it? Things are going blurry, come on, remember Shannon, what is it??!
Something simple….what is it?? OH YA!
Point is, this girl? She’s busy. You couldn’t see but I was pointing to myself. Actually I wasn’t, I was typing and picturing myself pointing to myself. I’m sorry I lied. Let’s not keep secrets from each other.
So, where did I leave off last time? Oh yes, stalkers and man friends….Moving right along (that’s not me keeping secrets, that’s just me, well, not telling you stuff).
Some people thrive off the excitement and energy of cities, but I am not one of them. While I do appreciate certain aspects of city life, I also find them to be chaotic and stressful, and I resent them for the energy they drain from me. I need to live in Quito for work, and I have made some pretty stellar friends here who help make this city livable, but it is also important for me to get away sometimes. Conveniently, Ecuador is a small and incredibly diverse country, and I am just getting started with my exploration.
Before I started my job, I went to a place a few hours away from Quito called Baños.
Unfortunately, I had been super sick since I got back from Same and so I didn’t actually experience any “baños” while I was there (the place is famous for its thermal baths). In retrospect, I’m not really sure where my head was at in my decision making process, because I somehow thought I was too sick to go to a thermal bath, yet it would be a great idea to zipline into a waterfall.
We were on a Chiva ride to check out some of the waterfalls around Banos, but as it was pissing down with rain the whole time, and considering this (below) is what a Chiva looks like,
we were already soaking wet. A casual dive into a waterfall just didn’t seem like that big of deal. Turns out all I needed was a little bit of adrenaline to get me pumped about travel again, so Joe and I decided not to return to Quito as planned, but rather to carry on for a few more days and check out nearby (relatively) Guaranda and Salinas.
We read that “half the fun of Guaranda is getting there,” but as we travelled at night and therefore missed the scenery, we had to hope we still had half our fun to look forward to on the return journey. We soon realized that Joe’s Rough Guide is actually a pretty f*cking rough guide as we found ourselves in a hostel with blood on the floor and no running water. Although we had half our fun still ahead, half of not very much fun is even less fun, so we decided to head off in the morning, and spent the night analyzing the children’s paintings on our table at a cafe (you see, the worm, the snake, and the turtle were all going to a fancy dress party. Well, the star went too, but he was dressed as a turtle. I don’t know why they invited him anyways, everyone knows stars always have the worst costumes…)
The next morning we found a random white pickup truck (they function like taxis in between small towns) to take us to Salinas, where apparently nothing happens other than some cheese making. Cheese and nothing, count me in!
Joe and I decided to bypass the cheese factory tour (it looked suspiciously like an evil lair) and venture off on some aimless wandering instead. Aimless wandering is generally when the best stuff happens, and this was no exception.
We looked out at the countryside, and at each juncture, just kept thinking how we probably couldnt climb such and such rock, but we should try anyways.
Well, seek and ye shall find my friends. On top of this random rock, unmarked and seemingly untravelled, we found what appeared to be some sort of symbolic landscaping amongst the fog.
Mildly spooked and feeling like we just accidentally intruded on something sacred, we were walking in search of an alternative route back down when the fog finally cleared to give us our reward. The right place, right time, only on this kind of day when the sun is just right kind of view that you often only see in NatGeo pictures.
Happy with our discovery, we headed back to town to eat as much cheese and chocolate as we could justify (turns out they make chocolate too!) before heading off in the morning to have the other half of our fun on the return journey to Quito.
I started work the next week, and almost a month in to it my life has been nothing but full speed ahead, complete with all the South American drama you could expect. But for this post? That’ll do pig, that’ll do. :^)