I went into Libertad to drop off a roll of film, did internet while it developed, picked up film and went to Hipermarket to pick up 4 bottles of Espiritu de Ecuador for transport to the States. At night, I took a 2 hour call from the States.

      In the morning, Lorena called and requested a last minute visit before I left for Guayaquil later in the day. When I had last seen her on Sunday, she gave me her requisite campo bon voyage speech, saying she would not see me again until after my trip. I wondered how she could be so certain she would not see me. Aint like she does anything. She hadn't said "I probably wont see you before…" she said "I will not see you before…" Now she was calling requesting a visit. My trips home are almost as big deal for the people here than they are for me. The idea of traveling such a distance, which they have only ever known people permanently immigrating to do, and also the scene they imagine must be involved in going home after so much time away, really strikes a chord in people here. Mind you that 99% of the average Ecuadorian's life revolves exclusively around their families, who they are never separated from. Most kids don't really know anyone outside of their family, and even as adults, it is typical to have only superficial interactions with people with whom you are not related. Where as Americans would certainly be better off if they possessed stronger family bonds, I don't at all agree with the Ecuadorian viewpoint- and possibly the whole non-industrialized world viewpoint- that things you are not related to are unimportant. If the things that don't share your DNA are invisible, you rather railroad yourself into a pretty basic existence, as the chances are good that the relatives sharing your point of view have never become molecular biologists or intellectuals or anything that might distract you from this all encompassing family. Of course, if you are among the billions of economically challenged folk on this planet, you probably never had the option to achieve anything anyway and one's family can at least stand united in a place where everyone is competing for scarce resources. Just the same, I think it's carried too far here. The psychological dependence on merely being surrounded by the family is so profound that many could not stomach even a week of being away from home, let alone months on end. So the idea of an inconceivable airplane trip to a long lost family captivates people here on several different levels. For some reason, none of them can shake the suspicion that I will never return from my trip. I think my wanting to return to Ecuador rather goes against their cultural moral codes. While they certainly fear that I may not return, on a very deep level, I think they believe not returning would be the right thing to do.

      I picked up my mail on the way to Lorena's work and bought an "Extra"- the basest publication you could ever buy openly, featuring sensationalized news stories with full color murder scenes and sometimes topless centerfolds. When I got to Lorena's work, I produced the pictures I had developed yesterday, which stared Lorena, her co-worker and I from a day a while back when we 3 went out exclusively to take these pictures. The 2 of them squawked and fawned and put dibs on every one of them. Then Lorena made grilled cheese sandwiches and banana batidos, which we ingested while trying to fill in a crossword puzzle in my Extra. However, Lorena was too dumb and Spanish was too much my second language for us to decipher very many of the crossword puzzle's puns and obscure synonyms. I left at noon to print my flight information on the way back to Tambo.

      After eating, I put the final touches on my packing, and then with too little time and too much nervous anticipation to get involved in much else, I picked up my book Voices from S-21 yet another book about the Khmer Rouge. Just before 4pm, Julio and I each grabbed a side of my tupperware container and carried it to the road that takes one out of Tambo. As we waited, Julio had to emasculate himself and ask for the money I give them each month to feed and house me, which I had not yet paid. I had been entertaining the notion of not paying it this month, as half of the month I was not going to even be in the country, and for the other half, well, I always am gone for weeks on end while never paying them any less money for the weeks of meals I never eat. Now, feeling uneasy about how expensive I was going to soon find everything in the US, I decided I would trim a little fat from my budget. However, my monthly payment is the only thing keeping the financial situation of Julio's family reasonably stable and he certainly wouldn't have humiliated himself asking for it were it not crucial that he do so. And besides, the Peace Corps had originally required everyone to sign contracts for rent and this kind of stuff so that unscrupulous landlords across the land would not try to change the cost of gringo rent after said gringo was moved in. Julio and I had blown off their contract and simply had a verbal agreement. In fact, Julio refused to accept money of any kind until I forced him to understand that the peace corps was giving me this money expressly to pay for these types of expenses and if he didn't except it, it was just going to be spent foolishly be me on snacks and movies. So whereas it may have made sense for me to withhold a months payment, I should have been treating the verbal agreement as immutable as a written contract. Julio's family has come to depend on that money, probably a little too much, but just the same they need it for survival and I was only gonna play with it.

      Since we were outside and likely drawing attention to ourselves from unseen parties all over the place because it would have been obvious from great distances that the gringo was carting a big tupperware container, thus something out of he ordinary was afoot, I attempted to keep the transfer of money somewhat subtle. Openly transferring money was a good way to cause all kinds of rumors and accusations circling. I pulled open my pocket and peered into it, then carefully selected the proper bills and slid them out in my closed hand. When I slipped them to Julio, the bills were well crumpled up. He stood there with his open palm to the sky staring at the crumpled bills, rather than slipping them quickly out of sight. He was probably trying to figure out if I meant the crumpled bills to insult him, which, had I been Tambonian, he could have been certain of. I don't know what he concluded, though he was very obviously not liking the position he was finding himself in. He quietly put the bills away and helped me hoist my bag into the bus when it came, and even though I tried to appear in a window to wave goodbye, he never looked up.

      I caught a Guayaquil-bound bus from Santa Elena. In Guayaquil, I checked into the Sander Hotel as usual and opened up my book about S-21 (which is the place the Khmer Rouge processed 10's of thousands of real and imagined counterrevolutionaries who were subsequently executed without trial). I flipped on the television as well, just because the bare, silent room was feeling too much like a prison cell. There was no remote control for the television and the few stations I could get were all broadcasting the Miss Universe equivalent of a pre-game show. I left the t.v. on for the noise, but many things showing on it ended up drawing my attention away from my book. 4 television personalities, which are news anchormen under normal circumstances on EcuaTv, acted as emcees and gave a number of awkward live interviews. Even the US ambassador to Ecuador, Kristy Kenny, who for some reason is something of a celebrity here, was interviewed. The families of favored (at least in the EcuaMedia) pageant contestants were interviewed and seemed very uncertain about giving their responses in English to a country of non-English speakers. The interviewers asked questions in pretty good English and the translated accurately their responses, but the English-speaking interviewees still gave answers as if they felt they were hidden away in a back room somewhere communicating secretly by ear piece to only the interviewer with no one else able to hear their first-hand responses. This was what passed for entertainment while I put away a full bag of chips and dip I had packed so that I wouldn't be forced to walk down to KFC if I eventually became hungry.

      I got up by internal alarm clock at 4:30am and arrived at the airport by 5:30am. My cab driver to the airport was very curious and asked lots of questions about the US, like if there were any old cars "up there". By old, he probably meant from the 1970's. He was surprised that I said there was. Then he wanted to know what a taxi ride "up there" would cost. I told him I had no idea because I've only ever taken 1 or 2 taxis in my life and not under ordinary circumstances. I guessed that the meter in most places begins counting from around $2.50. My whole cab ride from this guy would only cost $3.00.

      I was booked with Copa airlines, a subsidiary of Continental, which I now thoroughly recommend for their low fare and in flight pleasantries like full meals, big snacks and free headphones with your in flight movie that you get to keep. American Airlines sucks: so much bigger, certainly more expensive and yet cant cough up a snack bigger than a 5 mini pretzel bag and plastic cup of beverage. Plus they want to sell you headphones. As long as this subject is on the table, I'll tell you that Northwest is slightly better than American insofar as feeling like the Airline acknowledges that you paid money for a ticket and is not begrudged to have to take you somewhere and the airline LACSA (now owned by TACA) is OK, but strict. If you don't intend to push the limit on baggage restrictions, don't worry about their strictness. Maybe take it as a sign they are on the ball. Copa is the best I've flown for service, perks, thorough security and price, but they, like LACSA are largely a Latin American airline. And in the interest of providing as much information as possible, Ela, who knows a lot more about this subject that I do, was very impressed with Lan Chile. The pattern here seems to be that off-brand airlines are better.

      I don't recall what time my flight took off, maybe because I was alllllready tasting that Arby's.