Excerpts from Ecuador: June 16, 2007

Haha, yeah, Montanita-- enough said. I ended up taking a last minute bus trip to the glorious cheat town of Montanita with the short-haired, pretty-faced tattooed Brittany. That girl is as crazy as her tattoos. We stayed in the hostel called Montezuma, and the first night we got there, Saturday, we went to my favorite Israeli hot spot, Hola Ola, for cocktails and good conversation... in English, of course.

Sex on the beach... my favorite drink of all time. We made friends with a guy from Philadelphia and Denmark, and of course, as the cocktails came so did I go. I always get intoxicated and begin to bounce from one person to the next. I am, after all, the "gringa loca."

I ended up meeting some cute guys from Argentina, none of their names do I recall. I took some shots of some clear alcohol, at their little hot spot on the beach. I love the little huts, planted right up on the unpopulated, clear, sandy beach fronts of Montanita offering their inexpensive bebidas (drinks) and beachy feel. They make you want to kick your shoes off and run to the ocean front, letting the water lap up your calves and dance in the sand. It is annoying when sand sticks to your wet feet and you put your shoes on, but then there is no need for shoes, the slight prickly feeling of the microscopic grinding of sand on your heels is liberating and exciting. God, I could dance in the sand, to the background of salsa music and the tide coming in, for the rest of my life.

Montanita is an amazing beach town, with its cultural diversity and open-ended acceptance. Everyone is a Montanitian. I am the queen of them all, or so do I feel when I am there. I am not longer the only blonde-haired, blue eyed girl enjoying her jubilee there, but I still feel beautiful and enchanting, as the alcohol overtakes my inhibitions and I am truly set free to the beat of the music.

Drummers, with their gnarly dreads and loose clothing, sit on the side of a cement ledge beating away their melodies. Israeli's chant their original Hebrew tongue to the Jewish Hip Hop played in the Israeli hostels and bars (which there are a plethora of Israeli's that end up in Montanita.) Salsa chimes from the beach fronts and elecronica flows over the walls of the clubs.

At the discoteca, where some band plays, I cannot keep myself off that damn wooden stage. I feel it is mine, and my entire drunken mind and body aims to end up in the center of that stage, waving my limbs in coordination to their cover and original song playing They often play Sublime, and I would love to get up and sing those beloved lyrics myself: "Lovin'/ It's what I got!!"

I woke up in the middle of the night sick to my stomach. Need I go into the graphics of what it is like to be sick to the stomach in South America? It happens to the best of us, but I was vomiting up fluid and chunks of things I did not even know were in my body. Take it from there.

I lay in our five-bedded hostel that we landed for $7 a piece, in the downstairs bed, in the fetal position, for hours. I continued drifting in and out of sleep, and running for the bathroom when my body awakened me for more heaving. This was no drunken consequence, because of the areas I was relieving myself of this sickness from. My nostrils, my mouth... fill in the rest. Yes, diarrhea. God, I said that bloody word. I hate it.

Brittany woke in the morning and brought me water and crackers. Thank God, because I could not have left that bed had my body even permitted it. I drifted in and out of sleep, taking tiny sips of water, and trying to hold it down. Brittany went and shopped around, and when she came back, I tried to venture to get food with her. Walking down the street felt like a marathon around the entire world. I made it somehow, and we got pizza and took it to the beach.

I could only take down a small slice, over conversation with a Brazilian and an Ecuadorian with his five year old kid who were enthralled with my eyes. I was just trying not to vomit in front of a crowd. Afterward, we returned our wooden pizza pan and came back to the beach. The beach has its own healing powers, that is what any hippy believes. I am not just any hippy. I just love the beach.

We picked up seashells and took pictures with some random horses roaming on the beach. We ran into some Israeli surfers, just briefly. I later returned to go swimming. My body needed the quenching refreshment of the salt water. I found the same Israeli's, as the waves in Montanita are way larger than any I have ever laid my own eyes upon, and I am afraid to go into the dark, crashing water alone. David, a nice Israeli guy, went out with me. The same one we had eyed earlier, and he was very good looking and well built. We hopped through the waves he practiced his not-so-perfect English with me. He then asked if I wanted to get food or something to drink later. I told him to meet me at Hola Ola.

Brittany bought some coca cola, and we went back to our hostel to get ready and try to choke down some drinks. I could hardly drink, but she had no problem taking back the cheap rum I had bought for Patti's, my house mom, birthday the week before. I opted for half a klonopin and we went to Hola Ola. There were our Israeli guys, and we ended up having drinks, popcorn, and good conversation with a group of Israeli guys, fresh from the military, not to mention, many good laughs.

(INTERVENTION) I forgot that this entry was so long and didn't look ahead. So I am going to skip some.

I will never forget that night, sitting around a little wooden table with all of this weed, little wooden benches for all to cram in. The guys forgot that I spoke English and went off rambling in their native tongue, laughing and saying god-knows-what. I thought it was hilarious,because really, Hebrew is quite an odd dialect. I've never really heard that much of it spoken to this situation. They tried to teach me some words, but my throat and mouth would not permit it.

Ever since I met my first good looking Israeli, I have sort of a fetish for these people. They are so fun, good-loving, with a beautiful culture. I hope to make it to their country someday. Israel is quite a stretch from the US.

And that was Montanita. We packed up and left the next day, after coffee, tea and vegetarian lasagna.