I was kidnapped by some Ecuadorians.

Let me preface this blog by saying, in no way was I kidnapped in the way you Americans think. The FARC did not come over from Columbia and hold me for ransom, so do not worry.

Loja
A weekend after attending the disappointing but very fun soccer game, I headed to a city called Loja to visit my friend Jamie. Loja is about 4-5 ½ hours south of Cuenca depending on what kind of bus you take, how many passengers occupy that bus, and how many roadblocks, protests, etc. you run in to during your route. The weekend was a short, but good one. Jamie and I chill-axed at a park for most of Saturday and then met up with another volunteer, Chris, to watch a concert at some Mexican looking bar. I enjoyed my short stay due to the company. Holy buckets, was it a good time… My return trip on Sunday was quite long and very uncomfortable thanks to the large man who decided he could take up 1 ½ seats. Although I pride myself for being a patient **man** I became quite annoyed with this fellow and did the only thing that seemed appropriate; I began to leak farts in his direction. Disgusting and shocking as this might seem, especially coming from such a proper gentleman as myself, it worked relatively well! I noticed his nose became agitated, and he slowly turned towards the aisle, generously giving me my elbow room back. Mom, Nana, and anyone else that is rolling their eyes with embarrassment at the notion that I would publicly mention my conniving flatulence, I apologize, but it had to be done, and the story had to be told.

**I think this is the first time I’ve actually ever referred to myself as a man, and I just got butterflies in my stomach**

That last statement wasn’t very masculine and I retract my statement about being a man.

Kidnapping
Teaching has been going extremely well. The students are awesome and receptive to my teaching strategies. I get along with them very well. I have talked with a few professors here and was able to eat with a couple, both Americans that have lived in Cuenca since the 1960’s. Ion and Kate are very nice people and bought Laura and I lunch last Wednesday. Besides them, I hadn’t really interacted with other faculty. Then, on Thursday, my director invited me to a “picnic” for the faculty. Thinking it was going to be our entire department, I accepted the invitation for Saturday. I would spend a couple hours with the other professors, get some free food and alcohol, and get to speak some Spanish.

Saturday came, and we met at the university. We all piled in to a few cars, and began what was to be an adventurous drive through the countryside and mountains. 45 minutes later we arrived at a small house in the middle of rural South America; imagine any picture you’ve seen of an underdeveloped country: house on a hillside, cows strolling in the fields, rolling mountains and hills in every direction, indigenous persons walking their goats to their execution, and no phone service. Beautiful, but at one point I literally thought I was being taken for ransom and would never be heard from again. Unfortunately I didn’t bring my camera so I have no pictures to share with you. As I walked into the house I noticed that there were only men on this “picnic”. I then noticed the mass amount of beer being unloaded out of the car. I didn’t get worried (because I can drink beer with the best of them) until I noticed the three bottles of scotch whiskey being unloaded as well. There were seven of us.

Now, for you Americans, us Ecuamericans have heard stories about the men and their drinking in this country. It is very machismo and older “role-models” try and get the younger males drunk off their asses. To this point I had not been thrown into this fraternal ritual yet.

I was handed my first beer at about 11am and took it down like a champ. I proceeded to annihilate another professor in ping pong and then was offered another beer. I proceeded to a game of pool where I was easily defeated, and then was offered another beer. At this point I was feeling good, meaning, I didn’t feel a buzz yet. Luckily for me lunchtime came before I could have another beer. The food filled me up, enough so that the excuse not to drink a beer actually worked: “Lo siento, estoy lleno y no tomo el otro cerveza.” In the future when I talk about my “ultimate backfires”, this Spanish phrase will surely be told. “No puedes tomar cerveza? Tienes un whiskey.” Or something like that. So I proceeded to take some shots over the course of the next couple hours, and received a good buzz. After playing my first game of Ecua-Volley (it’s like volleyball, but played with a soccer ball) I was lucky enough to receive a ride home from Ion (the professor who took me out to lunch) and make it back in time to meet up with Keith and Laura for a concert.

So, I thought I was going to a picnic for a couple hours on Saturday. I left at 10am, had my first drink at 11am, drank consistently until I left at about 530pm. It was my first Ecuadorian kidnapping.