So I’m back in New York City.
After a highly cliche flight to Miami from Quito — we were delayed on the runway while someone’s suitcase was investigated by narco cops with sniffing Labradors — and a night in a Miami hotel, I arrived at my dad’s apartment on East 68th Street. I still feel like New York is a dream I have conjured up from my bed at my host family’s house in Los Chillos. Today I stumbled around the city streets, tempted to say “qué le vaya bien” to all of the store clerks I encountered, and confused as to why the M72 bus didn’t just stop midblock to let me on. I haven’t done much processing or reflecting on the last three and a half months. I don’t even know where to start.
So I’ll start with some images. Below are some of the pictures I took when I climbed the Basilica (Quito’s most Gothic-looking church) with Eric, Yonit, and Diego during my last few days.
They let you climb all the way up, beyond the clocktower, something churches in the states, I feel, would never allow.
Quito: bottle caps strewn on a green valley, where it is forever springtime (or always raining, more like it). In the background, the virgen de Quito at the Panecillo.
Also wanted to include a note that on June 12, I’ll be leaving Broadway once again to live in San Francisco and intern at a non-profit. I’m going to continue to blog here though, along with Lydia, who’ll be in DC for the summer, and perhaps some fresh faces (Amanda Erickson and Eric Hirsch, I’m looking at you guys).
