Travel Notes

"Enjoy Ecuador...but more importantly, enjoy God's presence!" -JL
"Enjoy the heck out of yourself!" -MK

[Sep 17] As the plane ascends and I look out the window, the world shrinks before my eyes and I can't help but imagine that I am in some way seeing what God sees. On ground level, our lives seem so big to us, our plans so important. But look out His window, and we look like tiny little ants running around. It makes God's descent to reach man all the more perplexing... His love all the more crazy. Thank You, LORD, for loving us tiny little ants.

I land in a foreign country not knowing the language nor a single person to call friend. It's late at night and my hostel is more than a mere hike away. Hyper-awareness kicks into gear. Having no functioning phone in hand further fuels the running of the movie Taken in the back of my mind. So, I pray about it. A few moments later, I'm splitting a taxi with an easygoing young couple from Hoboken, NJ.

My business card and personality both say "Controller," but I'm learning how to unwind, and upon arrival at my hostel, I get to practice. After settling into my $13 spot in one of the ten-bed rooms and knocking off a late dinner comprised of a Clif Bar and airplane baby carrots, I scope out the commune, camera-ready as always. With balconies that overlook the seaway (and the city lights beyond it), rustic hallways full of peculiar artwork, a vibrant partially open-air bar next door, and an organic mix of foreigners and locals to fill them all, I find myself not feeling so alone anymore. In fact, I'm beginning to like this freedom in the unknown. After getting my fill of photos, I grab some water and a Panamanian beer from the bar and take a few moments in the warm, night breeze to appreciate God's presence and the gift of this experience. In this eclectic concoction of people, art, and beverages, vacation has indeed begun.

[Sep 18] Early in the morning, I wake up to this
sweet view and turn to an even
sweeter message from my Creator.



I take a walk through Casco Viejo before checking out of the hostel, at which point I gratefully score a free ride back to the airport. (After capping off a ten-day surfing run on the Panamanian waves, Jordan, Justin, and Wes are flying back to Cali. And, fortunately for me, their fourth man took an earlier flight home, which left a seat open in their rented jeep. I like those guys.)

Finally, I arrive at my destination. As Santiago picks me up from the airport, the greetings aren't grand and we immediately head off for some food. We're guys, after all (brothers, more importantly); we know how it is.

[Sep 19] The next morning, we are speeding through hills and highways to get to English Fellowship Church. No, we're not late. That's just how Santi drives. Inside the sanctuary, I feel not a stranger as memories from last year come to surface, as songs from L.I.F.T. are being sung, and as just about everyone speaks English (not to mention that there are lots of brown people, too). I find a smile come upon my face as the pastor gives an exhortation to pray the songs from the heart rather than just sing them from our lips. In the middle of the service, street kids in the discipleship program, reflecting in appearance the place from which they come, are presented on stage. They break out in song Spanish lyrics to a reggae-rap tune in praise to the LORD. I manage to decipher only a handful of words, but I am amazed nonetheless. I imagine how God the Father sees them (as the pastor previously brought to mind) and see a smile on His face. Following the service, interestingly enough, they have Filipino food for a mini reception. And my takeaway from the message itself, a refresher on doing good works:

You don't have to. But you'll want to.
You'll want to so much that you'll have to.
It'll be a different kind of "have to."

[Theologically, this is nothing new to me, but I needed to hear this in the time that I did, in the way that I did, in a way that would penetrate past my head and into my heart.]

[Sep 20] I volunteer at the school: data-entry and then some painting. At night, Santi and I take off for Mindo. Though the speedy descent from 9350 feet down winding roads results in a buzzed-like sensation, and that it's somewhat of a dubious trek to find our hotel/hostel(?), the ride with my brother is a good time for sure.

[Sep 21] Ah, Mindo Gardens... in daylight. This place is gorgeous and Santi and I basically have it to ourselves; a shame that neither of us have our woman with us! But hey, this is a guy trip. We eat (a simple yet awesome breakfast) and then take care of business. We canopy (zip-line) on mountain tops and hike down rain forest valleys to cascadas. O the sights and experiences that exist beyond the cubicle! The ride on the gondola is... peaceful, refreshing; a sight to see as we're almost on even level as the mountain tops kissing the clouds. We return to the Gardens ready to devour. What a sweet meal it is. [My favorite was the super fresh papaya juice which I couldn't get enough of... which, at the time, I was unaware is a natural laxative... which now explains a lot.] At nightfall, we have solid convo as we drive back to Quito.


[Sep 22] Some manual labor. Some more painting. Tiring, but pleasing. At the end of the day, we have a nice dinner out and take it easy.

[Sep 23] No plans during the day, but later on, we find an outdoor rock gym downtown. The nicer bouldering section is restricted for a private group, so instead I attempt the man-made wall of stones. (Having no pads under you sure does make a difference.)

[Sep 24] For my birthday, it seems that God has blessed me to do volunteering through photography. I hang around with the three kindergarten classes and it's not long until I fall in love with them. And regardless of whether it pans out into something or not, the LORD gifted me with a chance encounter to potentially hook up with missions photography organization. That would be my dream job.

In the afternoon, Santi and I head off for the hot springs in the mountains of Papallacta. The drive itself, once out of the city, is just absolutely beautiful. And the springs weren't bad either! Along the way, we meet a guy who's driving from Canada to Argentina, and talk it up a bit. [I got on his mailing list and now get periodic emails and pictures of his travels.]

On our way home, we stop at a store to pick up some movies. As we get out of the car and take a few steps forward, we both pause as we each see from the corner of our eye, the car slowly drifting backwards! Fortunately, a stone structure prevents the car from running into the highway and there is no real damage to the car itself (which then makes it okay to laugh). Anyway, we pick up some movies (legal bootlegs of pristine quality at only $2 a pop!) and make our way back, where birthday pizza awaits with what has come to feel like family. After pizza, I'm surprised with a homemade birthday cake lit with one big candle. It sure feels like home.

Maybe the best gift of this day (really, this whole week in general) was the strength and confidence to stand alone. Through the words of my brother, various encounters with a multitude of people, and the unfailing presence of my loving God, I feel the life pumped back into me.

[Sep 25] My flight is pushed back 24 hours...


[Sep 26] Home. Habachi.




[In-Flight Notes] Perhaps the most humbling aspect of this trip wasn't in the miscellaneous odds & ends I was asked to do while volunteering at the school. Rather, through the few passages I managed to read from a random book dislodged from the mess that is the back seat of my car shortly before leaving for the trip: Voice of the Martyrs - Extreme Devotion. It seems to me that extreme is actually normal, and normal is really lukewarm. What a plank in my own eye. Help us, LORD.

Serving was actually a joy--tiring, but a joy nonetheless. I think pride in service can really only creep in when you think of what you do as "service." If you're doing whatever it is that you're doing for the LORD--like really for the LORD (e.g. with Him in mind, with joy)--then pride doesn't have a place to creep into.

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