While on the way to Misahuallí to start Training Seminar 3 with the other Napo Fellows, I took my seat next to an elderly Ecuadorian woman sound asleep with her head resting against the bus window. A few minutes later, a particularly bumpy section of road jolted her awake and, upon hearing my English conversation with Kirin, Abigail, Sienna, and Joan, she tapped my shoulder and said “Hi! What’s your name?”
Hearing English from someone unheralded is something that I’m sure has thrown the other Fellows off guard as well. (Example: When I was buying a Coca-Cola at a small…

It’s been quite a year! I’ll post another blog update before returning to the states, but here’s a video for you all to watch in the meantime. Enjoy, and thanks for all the support! I can’t seem to insert the video into this blog, so you’ll have to copy and paste this link into your browser to view it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv-ww12c33s…

The clocks in Santa Rita all run on different times. The large plastic wall clock over the ever-so-creaky green table is first; my now-broken wristwatch is second with about a two-minute delay; and the farthest behind is always the cell phones. Nobody ever seems to know exactly what time it is or exactly when anything is going to happen, which brings me to the first point of this post: the phenomena of Ecuadorian time.
“Lateness” doesn’t occur unless someone is well over an hour behind a planned meeting or rendezvous. Being “early” doesn’t exist; coming an hour late to a…

If you haven’t read the first two parts to this adventure, be sure to do so before reading Part 3! Part 1 can be found at http://globalcitizenyear.org/2011/12/39-hours-pt-1/ and Part 2 can be found at http://globalcitizenyear.org/2011/12/39-hours-pt-2/….
Friday, 4:00 p.m., one kilometer from the edge of Bosque Colonso
I’m running on empty. Every step takes all the effort I can muster. My feet feel like they weigh a hundred pounds and my boots and clothes are completely soaked. Sweat clings to me like a wet towel, and I can’t tell if it’s sweat from my hair or water dripping from the

If you haven’t yet read the first part of this adventure, be sure to do so before reading this blog. It might make a bit more sense! http://globalcitizenyear.org/2011/12/39-hours-pt-1/…
Thursday, 7:00 p.m., the abandoned ranchito
Wilson and I wake to the roof being violently blown off the lean-to. The world is a whirlwind of insanity; my clothes have blown into the field nearby and the rain is pounding us with a fury.
“The blankets!” he yells, and takes off after the plastic “roof.” I grab our sleeping materials, stuff them into bunches, and put them under my backpack so they don’t

My most recent project at my internship site, Runa Amazon Guayusa, is creating a GPS map of Bosque Colonso, a 22,000 acre rainforest preserve stretching from my village of Santa Rita, past the towns of Archidona and Tena, and through a number of other Kichwa villages. All conversations within the story took place in Spanish and/or Kichwa and has been translated for your reading pleasure.
The 39 hours between 11 a.m. on Thursday, December 1st and 2 a.m. on Saturday, December 3rd were, without exaggeration, the scariest and yet most transformative day and a half of my life. Let’s start at…

You are sitting outside watching the last beams of sun disappear behind the mountains when the news reaches you. The man who brings it expects nothing more of you than simple acknowledgement, yet curiosity brings you to the communal building where all are gathered. A woman has died today, and a vigil of silence is her gift from the village.
She is wrapped in a sheet to preserve her modesty. Her passing was nothing more than old age, you are told. You nod, take a seat near the door, and join the vigil.
As the opaque blanket of evenfall reaches…