#anyway Latin Through Stories isn’t even finished and it’s still the best Latin program for kids out there. if you want to know

[septembersung]

We’ve been Going Through It for weeks and weeks now and some things may be clarifying. We’ll see.

In a fit of Mood last night over (detailed context redacted) I decided we’re just going to become that family that speaks conversational Latin. So I’ve been throwing out what small vocabulary I have that’s relevant to a household (and not Mass) at every opportunity.

I am richly rewarded because almost-2yo is at that stage where she will joyfully repeat anything.

[takerfoxx]

RD Walpurgis Nights 7: Part 2

“Waaaaiiiiit a minute,” Ophelia said, holding up a hand. “The museum. A field trip to the museum. Um, did they by any chance take you into an elevator and…”

Homulilly grimaced.

“Oh. Oh, wow. Geez, no wonder you got all twisted up. I was walking around in a daze for a solid week after our class went through all that, and I didn’t have shit else going on. Meanwhile, you’re already getting kind of stressed out when they dropped that on you.”

“Pretty much,” Homulilly admitted. “I thought…I mean, I knew they were going to tell us something big, but I thought it was just going to be some gross pictures from the war. I wasn’t expecting…that!”

…

Five days ago…

The three doors to the shuttle, one in the front, one in the middle, and the last near the rear of the vehicle, all hissed open, allowing everyone that was part of Homulilly and Gretchen’s integration group to climb aboard.

Integration classes were very similar to school years, though obviously they had to be handled a little differently. Since new arrivals had to finish their schooling on top of learning all that was needed to know about the afterlife, sorting everyone into groups was a little slapshot. Generally speaking, when it came to school they were sorted into the equivalent of whatever grade they happened to be in when they had died. Most of those tended to be in middle-school, so those classes were the largest, though they were very small when compared to the ones they had left behind, usually only around a dozen or so. There were also a smattering of elementary schoolers as well, whose classes were usually only numbered about five at the most at a time, while older girls just took classes with those who had been in the program long enough to be at their level, while the rare adult just skipped all of that.

Integration programs, however, were usually kept with those they had entered the program with, regardless of age. Granted, exceptions were made for the exceptionally young, as there were just some things that they needed to be a little older to learn about, but most of the girls that Gretchen and Homulilly had entered with were within a few years of each other, so they had all stuck together, more or less. A few had left for one reason or another, while occasionally a latecomer had been added to their numbers. At the beginning their had been seventeen. Now there was fifteen.

To be honest, though Homulilly had lived with them to what essentially amounted to her entire life, she still didn’t really know any of them other than Gretchen all that well. She knew their names, sure, but had never talked to any of them unless she had to. And that was fine. Gretchen and their older friends was all the companionship she needed.

The two of them entered the shuttle through the middle door and took their seats. Per usual, Homulilly sat down next to the window while Gretchen took the aisle seat. Homulilly’s seat remained the same, but Gretchen’s shifted beneath her, curving inward to better accomondate her wire legs. She giggled a little at the ticklish feeling.

Once everyone was on board, the doors shut and the shuttle started moving across one of the very few roads in Freehaven large enough to allow for motor vehicles. The FIB building was near the top of the hill anyway, and had been built after most of the town. Its destination was the museum, which was located on the other side of the hill that Freehaven sat upon.

Homulilly leaned back in her seat and sighed. She had to admit, she did feel a lot better than she had last night. Her homework was out of the way, none had been assigned for that day, and thanks to the field trip she and Gretchen got to spend the day together instead during breaks and between classes. And hey, walking around looking at interesting artifacts was far more interesting in struggling to comprehend boring mathematical formulas.

“Oh, I can’t wait until we get there,” Gretchen said happily.

“Why? Are you really that interested in the war?”

“Not one bit! But they have others things besides all that stuff about the war, like some stuff from all the way back from the founding of Freehaven!”

“I know, right? And the curator’s supposed to be one of the only witches to turn all the way back into a Puella Magi. There’s, like, only eight of those!”

That voice was most definitely not Homulilly’s. For one, it had a distinct Latin accent, and had been so unexpected that it made her jump a little. She looked around wildly, and then turned to find the source.

It was a girl. Well, obviously it was a girl; they were all girls! But this one would be more accurately described as a woman. Wait, no, that wasn’t enough. She was a woman, one that looked to be in her very late teens, maybe even her early twenties. Her skin was dusky, her body slender and well-proportioned, and her flowing hair a brilliant reddish-orange that practically shimmered in the sunlight. Her cheeks were sharp and pronounced, and her smile was stunning.

It took a second for Homulilly to place her. Mitty, right. That was her name. She had joined their class a few months after Homulilly and Gretchen had, and Homulilly didn’t think that she hand her had ever exchanged to much as two words. So why was she butting in on their conversation?

Then Gretchen lit up. “Mitty-chan!” she said happily.

“Heya, Gretch! Long time, no see!”

Gretchen giggled. “Last night isn’t long!”

“Long enough.”

Wait, what?

…

Now…

“Wait, stop, stop, stop,” Ophelia said, bringing the story to a halt again. “Mitty. Like, glowing orange hair, all sharp edges, looks like she got put together from every dark-skinned ethnicity in all the best ways? That Mitty?”

Homulilly jerked up in surprise. “You know her?”

“Kind of. A friend of mine teaches a dance class at the studio where I practice. Mitty’s one of her students, and…Oh my God.” Ophelia buried her face in one palm and sighed. “Out of all the people to just drop into your life, it had to be her.”

Homulilly stared. “Wait, why? Is she…bad?”

“Bad? No, she’s a good kid. But, uh, she’s can be a little…thoughtless and pushy.”

“Yeah,” Homulilly sighed. “I noticed.”

…

Then…

Turning to Homulilly, Gretchen said, “Lilly-chan, you know Mitty-chan, right? She’s also part of the planning committee.”

Oh. Oh, right. That. The dancer. Gretchen had told Homulilly about her. Frequently.

“Hey there, cutie,” Mitty said, extending her hand. “I think Gretchen might’ve mentioned you once or twice.”

Only once or twice? Homulilly’s memory rewound to all the times Gretchen had brought up Mitty, and how enthusiastically she had done so. And then there was the many complimentary terms she had used.

Not knowing what else to do, Homulilly hesitantly extended her own hand and limply shook Mitty’s.

“Goodness, that’s quite the handshake you got there. You must have lots of fun at Halloween.”

Gretchen winced. She hastily slashed her own hand across her throat as Homulilly’s face flushed bright pink.

Mitty noticed. “Ah. Okay, no-go zone. Sorry about that. No offense intended.”

Homulilly found her tongue. “I-It’s okay,” she stammered. Still, she made a point of keep her arms clenched at her chest, out of Mitty’s view.

“Anyhoo,” Mitty said, turning her attention back to Gretchen. “Did’ja hear they got an entire section of jott jewelry? I hear they know how to mold jewels. Not cut them, mind you. Actually mold them, like clay.”

Gretchen’s dark pink eyes lit up. “They do?”

“You bet your cute butt they do! It’s kind of crazy the sort of stuff the aliens can do. Like the ai…aijuh…aijurk…”

“Ai'jurrik'kai,” Homulilly mumbled.

“Right!” Mitty said, snapping her fingers. “Them! They got this liquid metal thing that is just the weirdest thing I have ever seen!”

As they chatted, Homulilly slunk deeper into her seat and gritted her teeth.

…

The trip to the museum was not long, but it certainly felt like it. Gretchen and Mitty continued to talk and talk about all the cool stuff that they wanted to see, while Homulilly kept a close hold on her tongue, constantly reminding herself that Gretchen was perfectly entitled to have other friends and could to talk to them instead if she wished.

But darn it, she had already spent all of last evening with this one. Why did it have to bleed into now?

Finally they arrived, and everyone got off the shuttle. To Homulilly’s irritation, Mitty followed the pair all the way off. Why? Didn’t she have anyone else to talk to? Was Gretchen her only friend?

In contrast to the rest of the flat, red roofed building of Freehaven, the museum was designed more like a Muslim mosque, a one-story white building with several domes on its roof. The arching doors and windows were the same as the rest of the city though, and it was surrounded by a lush botanical garden, with herbal life hailing from all across the galaxy. The walkway from the parking lot to the front doors were line with squares of grass, which had been molded into free-standing forms of the various species in the afterlife, one per square.

“I know we’re here for Freehaven history,” Gretchen said as they all line up. “But I hope we can see the dinosaur exhibit.”

“They don’t have one,” Mitty said.

Gretchen’s face fell, which was another strike against Mitty in Homulilly’s book. “Why not?”

“Because all the animals we have are made up of everyone’s memories of them, remember?” Mitty said. “No one has any actual memories of dinosaurs, so we never got any actual dinosaurs.”

“Oh,” Gretchen said, sounding disappointed. “I wanted to see the pterodactyls.”

Mitty laughed. “Uh, yeah. About that. You do know that pterodactyls aren’t actually dinosaurs, right? They’re-”

All right, enough was enough. Homulilly’s head snapped around to focus on Mitty with a furious glare. She even hissed in warning.

Seeing this, Mitty quickly amended, “-a very close relative! So I guess it still counts! I mean, scaly dinosaurs and feathered dinosaurs are still dinosaurs, so the term’s pretty fluid, I guess.” Then she made a face and turned away.

Good enough. “I wanted to see them too,” Homulilly said to Gretchen. “But you know, they have elysians that look like dragons. Maybe they have one that looks like a pterodactyl.”

At this Gretchen’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that would be great! I’ve always wanted to ride in one anyway.”

“One day,” Homulilly promised.

The caretakers led the group into the museum. Despite her annoyance at Mitty’s continued presence, Homulilly did find herself interested in her surroundings. She had never actually been to the museum before and was pretty curious at sort of exhibits a magical afterlife could offer.

The lobby was round and made of white marble, ringed with pillars. The floor sat in a depression, with steps leading up to the three hallways on all side. In the center was a roped-off miniature of Freehaven itself. However, as they circled around it, Homulilly saw that it actually contained four Freehavens instead of just one, with each occupying a fourth of the hill model, with the one facing the door resembling how it looked now and each of the others show how the city had looked sometime in the past, with the smallest being little more than a tiny village on a vast, grassy hillside.

Waiting for them between the Freehaven model and the stairs leading to the center of the museum was a young woman with pale skin, silver eyes, and long silvery hair tied back in a braided ponytail that hung over one shoulder. She wore a neat white uniform and pale blue sapphire studs in her ears. It was clear that she was the one guiding their tour, whatever it may entail.

“Welcome, everyone,” the young woman said. She had a bit of a European accent, though Homulilly couldn’t really place where it was from. “Welcome to the Freehaven Museum of Cultural History. My name is Astrid, and I-”

Mitty’s hand shot into the air.

“Are you that one witch that managed to turn back into a human?” she asked without waiting to be called upon.

Homulilly gaped at her, shocked at the blatant rudeness. She wasn’t the only one. Most of the other girls shot her surprised and disapproving looks. However, Astrid herself was unruffled.

“Well, someone’s done her homework,” she said. “Though I should point out that ‘witch’ is just something of a modifier, and are no less human than you and I.”

“Yeah, okay, but are you?” Mitty said, undeterred.

Astrid nodded. “I am.”

“How?”

Homulilly gritted her teeth. Though Mitty wasn’t saying it out loud, it did really sound like she was implying that there was something wrong with being a witch.

“Well, as luck would have it, that happens to be part of the tour today,” Astrid said.

Completely oblivious to the hint, Mitty pressed on. “So are we learning about-”

Astrid lifted a finger to her lips. Finally Mitty got a clue and shut up, though she was still anxiously fidgeting from her plethora of unanswered questions. Homulilly didn’t understand what her problem was. Astrid had already promised that everything would be explained in time. Couldn’t she just wait?

“As I was saying,” Astrid said, “though the museum has a little bit of everything-”

“Except dinosaurs,” Mitty muttered under her breath.

“-it’s primary function is to chronicle the long history of Freehaven. Follow me, please.”

Astrid turned and walked up the steps into the center hallway. Homulilly, Gretchen, and the rest of the girls automatically followed.

The hallway was of the same white-and-black marble as the rest of the place. On either side were a row of arching doorways, each one bordered by a pair of pillars that were fatter in the middle than their tops and bottoms. Beyond, Homulilly could see a series of exhibits, some displaying things like old outfits, others containing skeletons of exotic animals, and others had artifacts from their extraterrestrial neighbors. There were a few normal visitors milling about. A couple glanced up and saw the group passing by. They grimaced in what looked like pity. Homulilly swallowed. That couldn’t be good.

“Though it is far from the largest human city in the Puella Magi afterlife, Freehaven is one of the oldest,” Astrid continued, talking as she walked. “Furthermore, it acts as the capital for one of the primary settlements for what is known as the New Life Alliance, a collection of multi-species territories united against a common threat.”

“Yeah, about that,” said a Canadian witch named Claudia, who had streetlights for eyes and street signs for fingernails. “What’s up with that anyway? I mean, we’re all here for the same reason. Shouldn’t we be getting along?”

“Well, to better explain that,” Astrid said, “I think it would be better to just show you.”

Everyone looked to her in confusion.

“This way, please,” she said, and then headed over to the far wall. There, a large golden tube was set into the wall, running from the ceiling to the floor. A grid of glass tiles were set in the wall on either side.

Next to the tube was a plaque that read FOR FREEHAVEN INTEGRATION BUREAU USE ONLY. NORMAL VISITORS NOT PERMITTED.

“Um, wait. What is that thing?” said a Swedish witch named Lucy, who was noted for having a removable head.

“Is it something…scary?” Shiloh, a black American girl who was a couple years younger than the rest.

A few of the other girls laughed at her, but then Astrid silenced them with a look. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “Girls, I must warn you, what I am about to show you will be rather intense. However, it is a necessary part of your education, for you not only to understand Freehaven’s history, but also what it is that Freehaven is meant to defend against.”

This caused several worried murmurs to rise up from the group. Homulilly’s hand reflexively sought out Gretchen’s, which was in turn already going for hers.

This was it. They had heard rumors and tales of the supposed dark enemy across the sea, but so far no one had come out and explained what they were supposed to be all about. And though the information was supposedly there for the asking, neither of them had dared to ask. They had a good thing going. Why darken it with something they couldn’t control? They just figured that their elders would tell them when the time came.

Well, it seemed that the time had come.

Brushing the hair from her face, Mitty called out, “This is about the Void Walkers, ain’t it?”

Astrid nodded. “Now, I understand that a few may have already educated yourselves about them. However, I must stress that what material you may have come across falls far short of the reality of the situation.”

“Yeah, what’s the big deal about it anyway?” said Amaya, a Spanish girl who tended to be a little more ornery than the others. Homulilly remembered her making something of an impression their first day, when she had disrupted the orientation with her constant cynicism. “I mean, don’t they offer a way out? I mean, none of us asked to be here! So what’s so bad about wanting to die for real.” When everyone near turned to stare at her, she amended, “I mean eventually.”

“Nothing whatsoever,” Astrid said. “And that’s the problem.”

She touched the panel next to the tube, and suddenly a large glowing rectangle appeared in its front. The rectangle slid open, revealing itself to be a door, leading to a round room within.

It’s an elevator, Homulilly realized. But did it go up or down?

Given the subject matter, she really hoped that it went up.

“Everyone aboard, please,” Astrid said. “Single file.”

The class all exchanged uneasy looks, but they obeyed. The casual, jovial mood from before was completely gone. Now an air of dread was starting to build.

“Well, I’ll be,” Mitty said. “This got real dark real fast.” Then she favored the two younger girls with a devilish grin. “Still, whatever it is they got in there, it’ll be waaaaaaaay more interesting than looking at rusty shovels behind glass.”

Homulilly and Gretchen both held back a bit. “Are you okay with this?” Gretchen said in a low voice.

Homulilly hesitated, and then nodded. “I’m fine,” she said. “I mean, they wouldn’t take us to anything bad, right?”

“I guess…”

From the sound of it, Gretchen was more apprehensive of where that elevator led than Homulilly was. Squeezing her hand tightly, Homulilly said, “Let’s go. Don’t worry. Just hold onto me.”

Gretchen managed a small smile, but it wavered a bit. Still, she let herself be led into the elevator.

The elevator’s interior was creamy white and kind of boring. One everyone was aboard, Astrid entered behind them, and the door slid shut. She touched the wall, and then there was a small rumble as the elevator started to move.

Homulilly’s stomach clenched up. They were going down.

As the elevator descended, Astrid continued speaking. “You were right earlier. While we have managed to carve out a little slice of Heaven here at Freehaven, the hard truth of the matter is that none of us chose to come here. Our lives were cut prematurely short by the Incubators’ deceit, and whether we fell in battle, succumbed to the darkness, or maybe even passed due to something completely unrelated to the Incubator’s contracts, not a single one of us was expecting to come here. None of us asked to come here. None of us wanted to come here. Maybe some of us expected the actual Heaven, maybe some Nirvana, or reincarnation, or nothing at all, or maybe those more cynical expected to end up in Hell. But regardless of what we thought we were going to see on the other side, not a single one of us got what we wanted, expected, or felt that we deserved. We were sent here against our will and left to fend for ourselves, seemingly for all eternity.”

Homulilly had to admit, she felt more than a little taken back by Astrid’s speech. By and large, most of the elders she had met had always spoken of Freehaven in the most glowing of terms, and considered the afterlife to be nothing short of a divine gift. To hear someone describe it in such a cynical way was…disconcerting, to say the least.

Astrid continued. “That is the situation that we have found ourselves in, and we make the best of it that we can. But the sad fact of the matter is that while we are dead, there are still those that would take advantage of us.”

Then the doors slid open, letting everyone into the room beyond.

It wasn’t a very big room, but it was still of a decent size. Like the elevator itself, it was round with creamy white walls, though these were of marble instead of metal. The floor was carpeted with red velvet, and traditional Freehavenian pillars were ringed around the walls. The lighting was dim, giving the place a solemn, eerie ambience.

As would be expected from a museum, there were several exhibits arrayed in a circle between the walls, all of them sitting on short, square pillars and covered with glass, with some sort of internal lighting making them glow. In the center of the room was one final object, also sitting in a glass case, with a spotlight beaming down on it.

Homulilly curiously peered out at the objects. None of them seemed particularly out of the ordinary for a museum, mostly things like old articles of clothing, ancient tools, weapons, and the like. And the room’s centerpiece seemed to be just a piece of paper.

Astrid led the group to the exhibit on their most immediate right. It was a walking stick, about a meter and a half long, made from a gnarled branch, with several symbols and pictures carved into its length. It was so old that it was nearly all black.

“Now this walking stick is one of the oldest artifacts that we have preserved here,” Astrid told the group. “It belonged to Ruth, one of the original founders of Freehaven, roughly around twenty-seven thousand years ago.”

Shiloh sputtered. “W-Wait, Freehaven’s been around that long?”

“Some places have been around longer. But yes. It was originally founded by a small group of human witches. A Walpurgisnacht, to be exact. And if you’d like to get a look at what it was like…”

Astrid laid a hand on top of the glass case, and a light flashed behind everyone’s eyes.

…

It was a bright and sunny day, but then, most of them were.

Ruth made her way across the hill and sat down on her favorite pile of rocks, the one that sat in the shade of a small copse of trees. Setting down her walking stick, she looked around.

The village was coming along nicely. They already had three mud huts erected already, plus one set aside for food storage. Most of the group was still sleeping in tents, but that was all right. In time everyone would have a home of her own, though to be honest, Ruth was going to miss sleeping with the others at night, all of them huddled closely together for warmth. But to be fair, that was probably the only thing she was going to miss from their nomadic days.

It really was a nice place they had found to settle down in. The hill was large enough to accomondate as many structures as they had need, the ocean was full of fish, and the land was vibrant and fertile. Not far from where she was sitting, the twelve sheep they had gathered were leisurely wandering about, baaa’ing contently as they grazed on the lush green grass. While down at the beach, Lilah and Dinah were working on weaving reeds together. They had one boat fully seaworthy already. Soon they would have another, and another still. And from then, who knew? Maybe others would find them. Maybe their little family would actually grow.

Ruth plucked reed from the ground and stuck it in her mouth. Chewing softly, she leaned back and looked up at the sky.

It was true, they still didn’t have any idea of who they were, where they were, how they had all come to be together, or where their strange power came from. But still, at least they had found a pleasant place to call their own.

…

Homulilly gasped and took an instinctive step back. She wasn’t the only one.

That had been so real. One moment she had been herself, standing with her class in the bottom floor of the Freehaven Museum, and the next she was in Ruth’s mind, seeing her memories through her eyes and hearing her thoughts.

She looked over to Gretchen, who had gone a little pale. Gretchen glanced back, swallowed, and tightened her grip on Homulilly’s hand.

“Ruth, Lilah, Martha, Sheba, Dinah, and Abigail,” Astrid said. “Originally a wandering group who, one day, decided to stop wandering and make their home along a seaside hill. If only they knew what that small decision would one day lead to.”

Then a Tasmanian witch named Brittney, notable for the scaly growths that covered the back of her neck and arms, shakily raised her hand. “Um, are any of them…still around?”

A sad look passed over Astrid’s face. “Only Lilah,” she said. “And she doesn’t take visitors.”

Then Astrid led them to the next exhibit, this one a wrap-around grey tunic made of wool that sat on a mannequin. It was fairly simple, ending just above the knees and leaving one shoulder bare and mostly free of decoration on the front. However, as the group walked around it, Homulilly saw that the back was dyed to represent what seemed to be an egg-shaped gem encased in a protective cage.

A soul gem. Homulilly had heard much about them, and even had seen recreations. According to what she had been taught, the body she wore now had once been inside one until despair had caused it to burst.

“This here belonged to Abeba,” Astrid said. “She came along much later, after Freehaven had grown a bit. And that…took some time, much longer than it would have for a city in the World of the Living. You see, population was somewhat hard to come by, even though no one was dying to thin the ranks. With no one being born, it took having others stumbling across the village by chance and deciding to stay to increase their numbers. But it did grow, and in time it had become large enough to attract the attention of someone else entirely, someone who had no intention of joining them.”

She placed her hand on the tunic’s case. Realizing what was about to happen, Homulilly and Gretchen both braced themselves.

…

Sure enough, there were two of them.

When Abeba had heard that a pair of strangers had appeared, it had cheered her greatly. Newcomers were always a welcome sight. Though she of course loved all her soul-sisters dearly, it did get a bit dull seeing the same faces day after day after day. As such, someone new was certainly worthy of excitement.

But then she had heard something strange. The strangers were not there to settle down and live with them, nor were they wanderers in need of help. They weren’t even merchants looking to trade. No, these two apparently hailed from another village, and they had come with a message.

How…odd.

Something about that raised Abeba’s suspicions, and she had summoned up her soul-spear before heading down to the beach to see what the fuss was all about. She wasn’t the only one. As she left her hut, she saw that others also had their weapons in hands, with the soul-blessed carrying the weapons they had born in life, while the soul-cursed brought the ones that they had made here.

Strangers were often a welcome sight, but nothing was gained by being stupid.

Abeba walked with the others down to the sea, where a small crowd was already gathering. As she approached, she could see that the descriptions she had heard were correct. There were indeed two newcomers down there. But they were not standing on the beach with the others. Instead, they stood in the surf, the water up to their knees as they face those on the shore.

Their garb was…strange. For one, it was in all in black, made of a material that Abeba did not recognize. It didn’t seem to be wool or leather, and it shimmered strangely where the sun caught it. In fact, it sort of looked like it have been woven from oil, if such a thing were possible.

For another, it didn’t seem to cover all that much. One wore a very short wrap-around skirt that hung low on her hips, and a hooded mantle that barely covered her breasts in the front but hung down low in the back. The hood was drawn down low, obscuring most of her features.

The other had on what could only be described as a single piece of black fabric, one that was wound diagonally around her body in such a manner that left skin bare in between. It started over one shoulder, left one breast bare, and continued on down, only just concealing her pelvis before winding around her right leg before disappearing into the water.

That one wore nothing on her head, and her long hair was dark blue, as were her eyes.

And finally, both of the strangers didn’t look like they had ever so much as seen sunlight. Their skin was paler than anything Abeba had ever seen. In fact, had she not already been told otherwise, she would have thought that they had been marble statues that someone had dressed and carried into the water for some inexplicable reason. It was a wonder that they didn’t burn.

The pair wasn’t moving. They simply stood where they were, waiting for everyone to arrive. Abeba felt her hackles raise. The strangers’ unusual appearance was discomforting enough, but there was something else about them that made her suspicious. These, she felt, were not friends.

Abeba joined the rest of her soul-sisters and stood, spear held in both hands where the strangers could see it. Soon the rest where were them. The whole of the village was now in the beach.

The unhooded stranger than raised her head, the first movement Abeba had seen from the pair. She smiled.

“Greetings,” she said. “Do not be afraid. For we come with tidings of great joy, which shall be for all people. For unto you is sent a gift.”

“A gift?” said Dinah, one of the village elders. “I see no gift. Unless you have it secreted in your buttocks.”

This sent a small ripple of laughter from the group, but the stranger was unruffled.

“Not a trinket to be held,” she said. “No, we bring something much more valuable. We bring a promise. A promise of escape.”

…

“It was a lie, of course.”

It took Abeba a moment to realize that it was not the dark strangers that was speaking, but Astrid. It took her another for her to remember that her name was not Abeba, but Homulilly. Right. She had just been watching another person’s memory.

“That was the first meeting between the place that would be known as Freehaven and the place already calling itself the Withering Lands,” Astrid said. “Though they had heard tales of a dark country across the sea, this was the first time they had bothered to introduce themselves. And they came promising the greatest prize of all. In exchange for loyalty and service, we would be granted death: a final death, a true death, complete escape from the Incubators’ contracts and the repercussions of such.”

A hush fell over the group as everyone mulled over that bit of information. Then Shiloh said in a hesitant, almost scared voice, “Could they?”

“Unlikely,” Astrid said. “But that didn’t stop people from believing them.”

She then led the group over to the next exhibit, this one an ivory comb painted with red flowers sitting on a satin pillow. The comb was very old, the white now darkened to dirty yellow, several of the teeth missing, and the paint largely chipped away.

“In the end, it doesn’t really matter how suspicious your offer is,” Astrid said as everyone gazed down at the comb. “It doesn’t matter how many internal alarms you set off, it doesn’t matter how many are opposed to you, it doesn’t matter how obvious your lies might be. If you offer something no one else can provide, something everyone eventually craves, then people will take that chance.” Astrid laid a hand on the side of the glass case. “And so they have.”

…

“Please undress and place all your possessions in one of the provided containers.”

Nilhella stared at the Void Walker attendant. “Really? Right here? In front of everyone?”

Though the dark-clothed and pale-skinned girl was smiling, it seemed to Nilhella that this was a question she heard several times a day and was quite frankly sick of it. “Yes, please. Come now, we all have the same equipment.”

Sure enough, the ones that had been in line before Nilhella were all stripping down to their skin, some more embarrassed about it than others. Nilhella glanced over her shoulder to the door she had just entered, where the long lines of weary girls were waiting to begin their lives as Void Walkers were waiting their turn.

“Please hurry,” said the attendant, her smile straining.

Swallowing, Nilhella grabbed one of the provided containers. “Will I get them back?”

The look the attendant gave her told her everything she needed to know, but she still said, “No. You are leaving everything about your previous life behind. Including material possessions.”

Nilhella bit her lower lip. Then she looked around for some place that she might have some measure of privacy.

Finding none, she finally just gritted her teeth and set about getting it over with, removing what personal effects she had on her person before taking off first her clothes and then her undergarments. It was as awkward as she had expected, and she tried not to bend over more than necessary. Fortunately, nobody seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to her.

Nilhella carefully folded her clothes and laid them inside the container. Then she placed her personal effects on top of that.

All except one.

It was her comb. Or rather, it was Nada’s comb, the one she had always worn in her hair. Nilhella had never seen her without it, from when they had worked together in the embassy to walking hand-in-hand along the shore to even when they had laid close, wearing nothing else. The one time Nada had taken it off was to give it to Nilhella, right before she had left on that diplomatic mission to greet the new species that had shown up in the afterlife.

Nilhella hadn’t wanted her to go. There was something very wrong with those newcomers. They weren’t like the rest of their neighbors. She had begged and begged Nada not to go, to find someone else.

Then Nada had taken the comb out of her hair and handed it her. There, she had said. Now you know I’m coming back. Keep it safe for me.

They had kissed after that, the last time Nilhella had ever kissed anyone.

That had been eighty-seven years ago. Nilhella had never seen her again, save for briefly in the videos that their new neighbors had sent to everyone as a threat.

Nilhella knew that she couldn’t logically bring the comb with her. She was coming here to die anyway. What good would it do her then?

But her death was two hundred years away, at the minimum. And she didn’t want to face that alone.

There was a heating grate in one corner. Darting over, she pushed the comb through the small metal cage and watched it fall until it landed on a pipe. Memorizing where it landed, she sealed up the container and turned it in, all the while praying that she would find the opportunity to search for it again.

She never did.

…

“Void Walkers give up everything for the chance to die,” Astrid said. “Their possessions, their homes, their loved ones, even a portion of their souls. They give up all happiness, surrendering themselves to a bleak existence before finally being released.”

This time the girls were able to shake off the effects of the memory quicker, but even so it was a few seconds before Shiloh ventured with, “But…is the releasing thing real? Like, do they really die?”

“A very good question. Certainly, anyone released by Oblivion ceases to exist in this world, but what happens to their souls after is unknown. But in the end, it doesn’t matter.”

“What? How can you say something like that? Of course it matters!”

“Because of who is doing the offering. Consider: back in life, was the Incubators’ promise of grating a single wish real?”

A hush fell over the group. The Puella Magi among them seemed especially uncomfortable, their faces downcast as each ruminated over the desires that had caused them to make a deal that they didn’t fully comprehend and pay a price that they couldn’t afford. Homulilly, herself a witch that had no idea what sort of wish had compelled her past self to do such a thing, scanned their faces, wondering.

Although asking about others’ wishes wasn’t exactly taboo, Homulilly had never been able to work up the courage to bring it up with any of the others, and those that she was close enough to broach the subject with were all witches themselves. She glanced over to Gretchen, who glanced back. Gretchen winced and shrugged, obviously as uncomfortable as Homulilly was.

Finally a British girl named Jordan said in a low voice, “Yes. Yes, it was.”

Astrid nodded. “And was the price made fully clear? Was the Incubator that contacted you fully forthcoming about what you were getting yourself into?”

“Nope.”

“Hell no.”

“Yes.”

Everyone turned to the one who had responded in the positive, who turned out to be Mitty. For her part, she seemed to immediately regret speaking up, and cringed back at the attention.

“Was he?” Astrid said.

Mitty made a face, but then nodded.

“You knew going how dangerous witches are, that witches are created from Puella Magi who had fallen into despair, that the whole system was created by the Incubators themselves in order to harvest our emotional energy?”

“Yes,” Mitty said after a moment of hesitation.

Astrid quirked an eyebrow. “And your Incubator was just completely forthcoming with those details from the beginning?”

“Er, no.”

“Then…”

Mitty shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, I thought something was up, so I started asking questions, and kept asking them until I got the whole story.”

Astrid smiled at that. “Well, then you were wiser than most.”

Perhaps, but something still seemed off, and the others knew it too. “Wait, you knew?” Jordan said. “And you took the contract anyway?”

“Yeah. Um, well, it wasn’t exactly easy, but…” Mitty shrugged again. “I knew one of the girls that got turned into a witch. I saw it happen. And I figured, well, since this whole thing was going to be happening anyway, someone had to step up and put her out of her misery. And there were probably others that were stuck as witches too, so…” Her voice trailed off as she saw that many of the witches in their group were giving her odd looks. “Erm, no offense.”

“It’s okay,” Gretchen said. Then she released Homulilly’s hand to lean over and give Mitty a tight squeeze. “That was really selfless of you, Mitty-sempai. You’re a good person.”

Mitty grinned and returned the hug. “Aw. Thanks, Gretchen.”

Homulilly had to keep her mouth shut tight so no one would noticed how hard her teeth were grinding together.

“Indeed, that was a very brave choice,” Astrid said. “But…did it work out the way you envisioned?”

Mitty’s face fell. “No, I guess not.”

“Were you able to…liberate your friend?”

“Yeah. And two others. Fourth one…” Mitty reflexively rubbed her throat. “Fourth one got me.”

Astrid nodded. “A very common ending. However, your case is an anomaly, and you had to pump your Incubator for information. As is their way, they highlight the promise of a wish, talk a good game about being a defender against the witches, and never bother to mention what witches are and why they’re created.”

“Yeah, they’re a bunch of deceitful bastards,” Claudia muttered.

“Exactly. They’ve already approached us once with a fantastical offer while making sure not to mention the fine print. Why should this time be any different?”

For a moment, most of the girls just stared blankly, not really understanding what she was saying. However, a few just hardened their looks. Those were the ones that had already learned what they were about to be told.

Homulilly, it should be noted, counted among the former, and she just stared with the others. She had never met an Incubator before, outside of her forgotten former self’s dealing, and was now far from their machinations. So what did they have to do with anything?

However, some were quicker witted than her, and Lucy started sputtering, “W-Wait, hold the fuck up! Are you saying that there’s an Incubator here?”

“I am,” Astrid said calmly.

Homulilly felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. An Incubator? Here? In the afterlife? But this place was supposed to be for them! A sanctuary away from their clutches, a place where those victimized by them could start over and build new lives! How could one of those monsters be here?

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Astrid said. “Why? How?” She clasped her hands behind her back and started pacing back and forth through the sand as she continued to address the group. “We may not know who created this afterlife, or why, but we do know that it was made exclusively for us. Magical girls. Witches. The Puella Magi. From every nation, across a dozen worlds we have come here, united in our joined victimhood. And whatever anyone here might think about that, I think we can all agree on one thing: Heaven or Hell, this place is ours, and the Incubators have no place here.”

There were more than a few murmurs of agreement at that.

“Unfortunately, that has not stopped them. For there is one in here, with us.”

The next exhibit she took them to was another garment on a mannequin. This one, however, was a hooded black robe, made of the same glossy material that Homulilly had seen in those memories.

Astrid gave it a good long look before laying her hand against the case.

…

For a day that revolved around death, the Releasing Ceremony was always…lively.

Sif stood at her post, watching. A sea of white naked bodies from every imaginable species was arrayed before her, all of them packed together so tightly that it was a wonder any of them could breathe. They surged, heaved, swayed, and undulated together, their arms, claws, talons, tentacles, and other appendages all raised up as if they could grasp the blessing that was about to bestowed upon them. Floating over the heads of those on the ground were calliopes and kotoss, who shivered as they darted around madly. Everyone was moaning, growling, shrieking, baying, or even screaming, all of them crying out in desperation, ready to finally receive what was promised.

The frenzy was ever rising, and several of the participants ended up getting crushed by their neighbors, their screams of pain barely distinguishable from the rest of the calamity. Trails of vapor rose up wherever that happened, as if to signal for help. But no one took notice of their plight. No one ever did.

The Releasing Ceremony took place upon the plain of Meggido as it always did. It was a wide, open space several kilometers square, sunken down about half a meter and laid with smooth, black tiles. Covering the entirety was a huge stone canopy, held up by towering stone pillars all around the plain’s perimeter. There, the Elite Guard stood at their posts around the ceremony, some standing in front of the pillars and facing out, while others stood at the entrances in between and looked in. As was the case every year, once the ceremony had begun, no one got out and no one got in.

Sif had been part of the Elite Guard for nearly fifteen years now, and had done her duty guarding the ceremony year after year. Whoever it was that guarded what was chosen at random, so sometimes she looked out for intruders and other times she faced in to watch for runners. She vastly preferred the former, as it meant she didn’t have to watch. She would still be able to hear though, so it wasn’t that much better.

Though she was supposed to be watching those about to be sent into the Void, she remained focused on the centerpiece of the ceremony, which at least wasn’t writhing and screaming. It was a black pyramid, about twenty meters tall with a flat top. Said top was shining with a white light, which was the only way she could make out the two figures on top. One was a human garbed in an all-concealing. Her arms were spread up over her head, the dangling sleeves sliding down enough on her arms to reveal skintight black gloves that covered the entirety of said arms. Her head was bowed, all of her facial features concealed by a black cowl pulled down low over her face.

The other was little more than a tiny black blob from her perspective, but she knew well what he looked like. It looked to be part cat and part rat, with sleek black body and a rodentlike face. Its eyes were red and beady, a red diamond sigil was on its back, and its raised tail was curled like a chameleon’s. Protruding from its ears were a pair of strange appendages that seemed to be part arm, part antennae, encircled at each of their ends by a floating gold ring.

Oblivion and Reibey, Sif’s masters.

Thankfully the ceremony was almost at an end. Oblivion raised her arms higher, and the platform started glowing brighter. The moaning grew louder as the crowd all pushed closer. Several of the smaller ones looked like they were being crushed by the sea of bodies, but no one seemed to notice or care, not even the ones being smothered. The moans and screams reached a crescendo.

And then they began to disintegrate.

It seemed to be happening in slow motion. Each and every one of the Void Walkers started to dissolve, starting from their tops and working their way down. And from them all billowed a column of white mist. Sif had to restrain herself from taking a step backward as the mist billowed out toward her.

The moans ended, and where once had been a sea of bodies was now a sea of mist. It became a thick fog that rose up, surrounding the pyramid and enveloping it.

Then the cloud started to be drawn into the center, pulled in by an inescapable vortex. The mists were drawn in closer and closer, becoming a spinning whirlwind that spouted up from the platform, with Oblivion and Reibey both standing in its epicenter.

Then the white of the cyclone darkened and turned black, becoming a thick pillar of smoke. It was then sucked right into the top of the pyramid, rushing down into the platform like a smokestack in reverse.

Then it was over. The cyclone of souls had been completely consumed by the pyramid. Oblivion lowered her arms, and Reibey bounded catlike up her robe to perch on her shoulder, and together the two descended the steps of the pyramid down into the vast expanse below, an expanse that only moments before had been filled with the writhing bodies of thousands upon thousands of their followers, but was now completely empty of all life, save for themselves. Reibey bounded up like a cat to perch on Oblivion’s shoulder, and she started down the steps on the side of the pyramid, ready to make the long walk back to the castle.

No signal was given out, but then, none was needed. Sif and the rest of the Elite Guard closed into a protective rank around their masters, and together they left Megiddo, until it would be ready again the next year.

As they fell into their designated places, Sif glanced over to Zoya, whose post had been next to hers. Zoya’s face was blank, but Sif knew her well enough to know that she felt the same.

Sick. She felt sick.

…

As the memories receded and Homulilly regained a sense of herself, the sick feeling didn’t leave. If anything it only got worse, and she found herself clutching at her stomach as she struggled to keep her breakfast down.

She wasn’t the only one. Most of the class looked deeply disturbed. Some started gagging, and more than one of the others girls had started crying a little. Gretchen was one of those. She pressed herself close to Homulilly, wrapping her arms and several of her legs around her taller girlfriend as she burrowed her face into Homulilly’s shoulder. Homulilly slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to make the nauseous feeling leave her. Gretchen needed her to be strong now. She could go throw up later.

This time, Astrid didn’t pick up the lecture right away. She stood there, waiting for everything they had seen to finish sinking in. When the class had calmed down enough, she said in a low voice, “It was very strange, to make it all the way to the top only to then question your purpose. Oblivion’s Elite Guard are indeed a strange lot.”

Of the group, Mitty looked the least affected, though she still seemed troubled. As such, she was the one who picked up on what Sif was implying. “Wait,” she said. “‘It was very strange’? You mean, that was you?”

“Very perceptive of you,” Astrid said. “Yes, that memory was mine. Sif was my name as a witch.”

She waved a hand, and suddenly another figure appeared in their midst, this one obviously a holographic image. It wore the same black robe that was on display inside the glass, though the hood was down. And there were several notable difference between the face everyone saw and their host. For one, the skin was completely devoid of color, the lines were sharper and the cheeks were thinner, the hair was short, and the eyes were hungrier. Furthermore, it was dotted with several strange growths that looked like chunks of ice.

But other than that, it was clearly Astrid.

“Yes, I was once a Void Walker, just as I was once a witch,” Astrid said as she looked into the eye of her past-self. “And a good one at that. Time and time again I proved myself loyal and trustworthy, enough to finally earn myself a place within Oblivion’s Elite Guard, something that at the time was considered a great honor.

“You see, hope is an emotion in short supply in the Withering Lands. The only hope that a Void Walker is permitted is hope of death. All other kinds are heavily discouraged. It is a life defined by desperation and despair, and by the time one is finally selected, nothing remains save the unquenchable desire to leave.

“But what happens when even that hope is shaken, when decades of reinforced lies and propaganda are called into question? I thought that making to the top of the Void Walker hierarchy would put me on the fast track to be released. After all, being a member of the Elite Guard allows you to start submitting your name a full fifty years early. I thought that my salvation was finally within reach, and sooner or later my name would be drawn.”

“It was a scam, wasn’t it?” Mitty said.

“Absolutely.” The bitterness in Astrid’s voice was clearly evident. “Turns out that good help is hard to find, so when they come across someone useful, they’re inclined to keep them. Your name goes in, but it never, ever comes out. And why wouldn’t it be that way? I mean, the Incubators had lied about everything else. What was one more?

Year after year I stood watch over the releasing ceremony, ensuring that no one ever tried to get out or in, fantasizing about the day that I would join them. I saw clear evidence of their lie with my eyes but still didn’t comprehend. I made up reasons, excuses, justifications to explain what I was seeing with my own eyes. Of course the releasing ceremony had to be legitimate. They never came back, right? That pyramid was probably just a portal to the great beyond, a gateway into spiritual freedom.” Astrid sighed. “It truly is amazing the lengths one will go to avoid admitting that she’s wrong.”

“So, how’d you get out then?” Jordan asked.

Astrid waved a hand, and her past-self was replaced with a different image, albeit dressed in the same outfit. This one was a shorter girl who looked like she had been black before all the color had been drained from her skin, though her short hair was still dark green. “I got lucky. Very lucky. See, being a Void Walker is a pretty lonely existence. Sure, you have companions in the ranks, maybe even friends. But most of them are just a brainwashed as you are, and most of the time they just help to reinforce the lie. But then I met someone, someone who had been there longer than even I had, someone who’s long wait had started to wear down her faith and was starting to have some serious doubts.

“We often worked the same shifts, so we ended up becoming friends, almost out of necessity,” the present-day Astrid explained. “Despite this, it was nearly three years before she felt safe enough around me to confess her doubts. And as it turns out, that fear was justified. I almost turned her in right then and there. Obviously I didn’t, but it was a close thing.” Another hand wave, and the image vanished entirely.

“So, why didn’t you?” Lucy said.

“Shock. Simple as that. I mean, how could another member of the Elite Guard express even the slightest bit of doubt? After all, we were supposed to be the most loyal, the most dedicated, the most…brainwashed. Either way, I found it deeply disturbing, and couldn’t shake it from my head. Shock turned into curiosity, which turned into a conversation. A very, very long conversation. I’ll spare you the details, but I had already stood guard over a fair share of Releasing Ceremonies by then. Not quite enough to stir up doubts of my own, considering how deep in I was at the time, but just enough to plant seeds for her to water.

“In time those seeds grew, and I started to pay attention. Everything that had seemed so right now just looked off. I started noticing things that had just slipped past without leaving an impression. I noticed how odd everyone seemed to act, how strange it was that we were putting so much trust in an Incubator of all things,  And the more I noticed, the more those doubts grew. My friend and I kept talking, and eventually I couldn’t justify the way things were anymore. And so we decided to run away.”

Astrid sighed. “As you might imagine, simply leaving the Void Walkers is no mean feat, especially when you’re directly connected to the upper crust like we are. We took risks, talked to people that we weren’t supposed to talk to, all the while praying that none of them was a mole. Arrangements were made to have us snuck out, and thus began the scariest night of our lives. Naturally, it when to hell almost immediately.”

“Someone snitched, huh?” Mitty guessed.

“Indeed,” Astrid nodded. “We didn’t know it at the time, but as it turned out the entire Withering Lands criminal element is run by the Reibey himself. I suppose he figured that one would develop anyway, so he might as well create it himself as a way to keep tabs on everyone.”

The next exhibit she led them to was a long battle-staff made of some kind of black metal. The pole was sleek and unornamented, while at each end was a small crystal nub.

“Of course, he cared little for either one of us,” Astrid said along the way. “With so many devoted cultists fighting one another for the honor of sacrificing their bodies and souls to whatever it was he was doing with them, what were two runaways? However, he could not risk having us leaving to tell the whole world what we had seen.

“It didn’t take long for us to realize that something was wrong. I’ve always had a keen sense of direction, and even though they had us stuffed in shipping containers, I realized that we were going the wrong way. That was bad enough, but then some of those that we had paid to help us started laughing at us. Taunting us.”

…

“All aboard!” shouted one of their betrayers from the outside. “Next stop: Palace Omega!”

Zoya felt light in the head and sick to her stomach. Setting her battle-staff aside, she curled up in a ball in a corner of the large shipping container that was supposed to take her and Sif to safety, but now would only be a one-way trip to an eternity of darkness and isolation. Tales were told of Oblivion’s dungeon, of the rows of cells with no door, no window, no light, no food or drink, where they simply tossed you in and immediately forgot about you.

“No,” she whimpered as she clutched at her head. She started to hyperventilated. “No, no, no…”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” laughed another one of the betrayers. She recognized that harsh, croaking voice. It was Narsh the vekoo, the one whom she and Sif had been told to go to for help, the one who had taken their money and made all the arrangements, the one that had promised that she would keep them safe, that had said that she would take them to safety, that all they had to do was follow her instructions and let her do all the work. The one that had been working for Oblivion the whole time.

“Sorry girls, but look at it this way!” Narsh continued. “I hear that after the first decade or so, your mind just shuts down and you fall into a catatonic state. So you still get your release, after a fashion.” The shipping container rumbled as the large shuttle transporting it began its journey.

Zoya threw up.

As she finished heaving what little there was to be found inside her, she heard Sif groan loudly. She looked up to see her friend leaning against the far wall, her face buried in her hands.

If Zoya was in bad shape, then Sif looked even worse. Her whole body was shaking, her hands covering her face as sweat dripped from everywhere.

“Please,” Sif was whispering. “Please, please, please. Help us. Please, help us.”

Zoya didn’t know what to do. She wanted to go over to Sif and try to comfort her, but what good would that do? What could she say? They were both doomed.

“Yes, I’ll do it,” Sif mumbled. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, don’t let them take us.”

Now Zoya was a confused as much as she was terrified. Who was she talking to?”

Then something strange started to happen. The chips of ice that had been stuck into Sif’s skin had started to glow, lighting up her corner of the container. What was more, the shaking had grown worse.

“Sif?” Zoya said.

Sif didn’t seem to have heard her. She just stayed where she was, violently trembling as the light grew brighter.

“Sif, what’s happening?”

Then Sif moved her hands from her face. Her eyes were closed.

“Sif?”

And then Sif’s eyes snapped open, and the whole contained filled with a brilliant silver light.

…

Mitty practically leapt up in excitement. “That’s when you turned back!”

“Precisely,” Astrid said. “Now, ladies, I know about the rumors that have been surrounding me and my…rebirth, I guess. But what you need to understand that it wasn’t anything that I knew would happen, could happen, or even how it happened. If you’re hoping for a step-by-step explanation, something that anyone could replicate, then I am going to disappoint you. We’ve gone over my memories of that incident with a fine-toothed comb a hundred times and found nothing. What happened, who I was talking to, or what deal was made is just gone. There is a gap of about a minute that no amount of magical probing can seem to uncover. One moment I felt like the world was ending, that everything was starting to drift away, that my sight and hearing were growing dim. I could barely hear my friend talking to me, asking me what we were going to do, but I couldn’t respond. And then, the very next moment, something inside me snapped. Power filled my body, and a flood of memories came rushing in. There was a flash of light, and the next thing I knew, I was outside of the crate, standing over the bodies of our captors. And in my hand…”

The present-day Astrid gestured with her hands, and a pair of axes with elegant silver blades and handles set with blue gems appeared in her grasp. This sent a murmur of surprise and wonder through the group.

Astrid twirled the axes like a pair of revolvers, and they vanished. “Of course, the power that was returned to me really wasn’t that much. A Puella Magi and a witch really aren’t that much different in terms of strength, but it was enough. You see, Reibey and Oblivion enslave the Void Walkers’ bodies as much as their minds and souls. Perhaps you’ve noticed how unnaturally pale they all are?” Everyone nodded. “Well, though none of you have been here long, if you were to take on an experience Void Walker in a straight one-on-one fight, then you would probably win. Their strength is sapped along with their wills, until there is little left.

“This incident…brought it all back,” Astrid said as she watched her former self wreak righteous vengeance. “My memories. My power. My strength. My will. Plus, it shocked the hell out of those traitors. I managed to overcome them, and my friend and I hijacked one of their vehicles and fled for the Byronic Sea. Miraculously, we made it.”

Astrid sighed. “I’ll spare you the details of our trip across the water. I suppose it was incredibly uncomfortable, but we were breathing relief for the first in what felt like forever, and eventually we found ourselves on the shores of Freehaven.”

“I guess they were pretty surprised to see you,” a girl named Carly remarked.

“Completely. And as luck would have it, Freehaven was already more than a little suspicious of the Void Walkers. Outreach attempts never really gained much of a foothold, so when we showed up, their initial belief was that we were another group of Oblivion missionaries. Which…turned to believing that we were some kind of subterfuge agents once we had explained ourselves and begged for asylum.”

“How did you convince them?” asked another girl, this one named Zhao.

“Firstly, by offering our memories,” Astrid said, holding up a single finger. “It was easier back then, given that we had fewer restrictions on memory probes.” A second finger went up. “Also, the promise of proof of their suspicions also made them willing to listen. And once they had it, well…”

“That’s when they decided to invade?”

Astrid shook her head. “Not overnight, of course. There was a lot of discussion and debate, as well as going back and forth with their allies. Freehaven was already friendly with Orya’s Furnace and several local ai’jurrik’kai nests, and there were a substantial number of calliope dances connected to all of the above groups, all of whom were unwilling to swallow the pill that Reibey was offering. Still, it took some time for everyone to be brought onto the same page.”

Mitty’s hand shot up. “Did Reibey ever try to get you back?”

“Shockingly, he barely even aware that we were gone. The smugglers that had betrayed us never actually got around to reporting us. I guess they wanted to keep whatever potential reward for themselves. And after we escaped, they no doubt wanted to avoid being punished for failure.”

“What? But you were in the Elite Guard! How could they not notice that you were gone?”

Astrid smiled. “An excellent question, one which I never got a solid answer to. The other guardswomen almost certainly would have reported our absence. There’s been a few theories thrown about. Certainly their security measures have…tightened since then. Personally, I think it has to do with Reibey himself, and how his mind works. Now, I know only those of you who are still Puella Magi will remember, but as we understand it, Incubators see the world a bit…differently from us.”

“What, you mean the part where they con little girls into becoming horrible monsters just to harvest their emotions for whatever?” Amaya said in a bitter tone.

Lucy turned to her with a hurt look. “Hey!”

“Sorry, Lucy,” Amaya said, cringing.

“I told you to stop that!”

“Sorry.”

Astrid cleared her throat. “Actually, I was referring to their psychological makeup. Now, based on what we’ve been able to gather from those who have had extended interactions with Incubators, much like yourself, part of how they are able to do what they do without remorse is that Incubators do not experience emotions, at least not the same way we do. Fear, love, hate, guilt, concern, anger, joy, and so on are completely alien to them, so they are able to continue their terrible system without pause, bending or omitting the truth whenever it suits them, but having no reservations about coming clean whenever pressed.”

Again Mitty cut in. “So it is true? Does the whole Puella Magi system actually put off the death of the universe?”

Homulilly remembered when her class had reached that part of Puella Magi Studies and how it had completely bewildered her. She hadn’t exactly been at the top of her class, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that no one else in the class really understood it either. In fact, even the teacher had confessed to finding the whole system incomprehensible. How little girls experiencing powerful emotions was supposed to translate to the universe not dying was something that not even their textbook could answer.

As it so happened, neither could Astrid. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “Nor would I understand how such a thing would work if it does. All horrible aspects aside, it always struck me as a needlessly convoluted way of going about things. But that’s beside the point. The point is that among Incubators, Reibey has always been quite the anomaly. Even without taking the fact that he is even here into account, he is different in that he shows every indication of having emotions, but with very little control over them. Every interaction anyone has had with him has shown him to be something that is…impatient. Quick to anger. Rash, arrogant, thin-skinned, deliberately obnoxious, prone to acting without thinking things through, and a variety of other negative traits. Common theory is that he suffers from some kind of mental illness unique to his species.

This was met with a prolonged silence. “An insane Incubator,” Claudia said at last, mostly under her breath. “Well, that’s…terrifying.”

“That depends,” Astrid said with a shrug. “He is an absolutely abhorrent individual, but at the very least he is easier to manipulate than his brethren. But getting back to the original point, I feel that the reason he didn’t bother to come after us before it was too late was that he was so wholly convinced of his invincibility that he couldn’t even conceive that we would be a threat.” She started walking toward the next exhibit. This one was more eye-catching than the others, as it contained a pair of weapons like none Homulilly had ever seen. Each one looked like three large, triangular blades that stuck out in three different directions. They were joined together in the middle by a shielded grip made of silver and set with violet gems. “He thought us as barely worth pursuing, a couple of irritants that would just disappear and never bother him again. This proved…false.”

Astrid lifted her hand, but hesitated before putting it down on the glass. “Girls, I need you to brace yourselves. Of all the memories you will be seeing today, this one will stick the most.”

Homulilly and Gretchen were already shaken, but they steeled themselves the best they could. Their entwined fingers squeezed tight, and Homulilly gritted her teeth.

Astrid moved her hand the rest of the way to the glass.

…

The trip across the Byronic Sea had not been long. In fact, it had only taken three days.

But it had felt longer. Oh sweet molten Core, it had felt so much longer.

Yorto had tried to pass the time. She had read the books she had brought along, but her mind wouldn’t focus and soon it became all but impossible to even comprehend the words. She had tried spending time with her fellow soldiers, but talk had always eventually wandered back to what lay before them. She had tried meditating, but her thoughts always came to dwell upon their destination.

Arriving in the afterlife had been hard. Learning of the deception behind her wish had been harder. And so when she had settled down in Orya’s Furnace with the other jotts, she had sworn to never call upon that power again, to never summon up her bardu blades with the intent to do harm.

The renegade Void Walkers’ message had changed all that. Even in death, the deception had not ended. It was up to them to make sure that it did.

Now at long last, the great warrior transport shit Meterle came in sight of land. Yorto stood agitatedly in her regiment, anxiously trying to calm her nerves. The human warships were to be the main thrust of their attack, and then the transports would spew their angry cargo upon the sands.

And then the fighting would begin.

Not killing. Bless the stones, no one would die.

But they would hurt. Yorto’s bardu blades would once again cleave flesh, and if they didn’t, it was her flesh that would be opened.

She had never wanted to do this again, but here she was.

The Meterle’s cargo was shielded behind a heavy hull, but Yorto could still hear. The information they had gathered had made their destination to be a receiving dock, where those seeking to become Void Walkers arrived. It was likely to be only lightly defended. Apparently Oblivion had never anticipated an actual invasion.

That was the good news. The bad was that many of those they were likely to encounter probably weren’t even Void Walkers yet, but just the weary and worn looking for an exit.

To steady herself, Yorto thought on those images that those two human renegades had brought with them, of the Releasing Ceremony and the great pyramid that absorbed souls. What the New Life Alliance was about to bring was a mercy compared to that.

Then the explosions started. The humans were firing upon the docks. Yorto could hear the sounds of their mighty guns going off, as well as the clear, crystalline chimes of the calliopes.

Calliopes fighting. There seemed to be something deeply perverse about that.

Then the screams started. Yorto closed her eyes.

“Ready yourselves!” called out the captain through the ship’s speakers. “Weapons out!”

The witches among them were already armed. The Puella Magi reached into their magic to summon up the weapons given to them through the Incubators’ contracts. The hold of the ship lit up as those weapons were called back into service.

It was time. Yorto took a deep breath and concentrated.

Without hesitation, violet light gathered around her hands, forming themselves into a pair of triple-bladed weapons that were splayed out in three directions, joined together in the middle by a grip. She lifted them, staring at the intricate glyphs carved into the blades, at the dark purple gems that studded the grips.

Hello, my old friends. It is so unpleasant to see you again.

“Approaching beach!”

Then there was a terrible jolt as the Meterle heaved itself upon the shore. Yorto swayed on her feet but kept her balance.

“Three!”

This was it. There was no turning back.

“Two!”

Children would be hurt today. The only thing she could hope was that it would one day be worth it.

“One!”

Stones forgive her.

And then the front of the ship opened, the hull sliding back and the ramp driving out into the sand. Sunlight filled the hold, and Yorto could see that the docks were already burning.

“Go, go, go, go!”

They surged forward. Jotts weren’t exactly known for being as quick and nimble on their feet as humans or ai’jurrik’kai, but their short, bulgy muscles handled short distances just fine.

Moments later, Yorto was surrounded by complete chaos.

From behind came the sound of firing cannons and discharged energy weapons, mixed with the shouts and commands of her allies. In front of her came deafening explosions and screams. Several dismal looking buildings were already in flames. Calliopes zipped this way and that overhead, redirecting energy beams with pinpoint accuracy.

And for one eternally long second, everything seemed to just stop.

She saw the beach rising up in front of her, with several bursts of sand being flung into the air. She saw a square black building erupt into flames as several calliopes redirected at least five brilliant beams right into its center. She saw the first thrust of humans and ai’jurrik’kai leaping toward what looked like a blob of black and white. It was the Void Walkers, and they were panicking

She saw all of that in crystal clarity, and wondered if she was in a dream.

“Move!” someone roared, and suddenly the world sped up again. Blinking, Yorto remembered her training and did as she was told.

The beach wasn’t the easiest thing to traverse even when it wasn’t being bombed into glass, but jott feet were great at finding purchase in even the slickest of surfaces, and soon the jotts had pushed past the dunes to join their extraterrestrial friends in battle.

Focus on those wearing black and white, Yorto thought. Filter out those in Alliance uniforms. Engage the newly arrived only if challenged.

Keeping that in mind, she let her mind filter out anything with color and singled in on the Void Walkers, most of whom were fleeing but still had some resisting.

Yorto leapt forward, crying out as she made for the closest figure clothed in black.

…

As the images cleared, there were tears in Homulilly’s eyes. She wasn’t the only one.

Gretchen was softly weeping. She all but threw herself against Homulilly, seizing her with both hands and several legs as she buried her face in in Homulilly’s shoulder. Homulilly held her with an arm across her shoulders and the other holding the back of her head.

Astrid had been right. Though the memory had stopped before Yorto had actually taken part in any violence, there was little doubt as to what had happened next.

Then she heard a gasp. Looking up, she saw Shiloh standing by herself, looking down at her hands in horror.

In her hands was a massive silver mallet, its shaft frosted with gold.

Shiloh stared down at the mallet, as if she didn’t know what it was. Then she gasped again and swiftly banished it, causing it to disappear in a shower of gold sparks.

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” She fell to her knees and started sobbing.

“It’s okay!” Astrid said, hurrying over and knelt down to hold her. “It’s not your fault. It’s just the memory.”

“But it is!” Shiloh cried. “Because…I made the same promise! The one Yorto made! When I found out what witches were, I promised I wouldn’t ever, ever, ever fight anyone again.”

“And you haven’t. You’re still keeping your promise.”

“But what if there’s another war? What if they make me go fight, like they did with Yorto? What if I have to hurt people again? I thought it was supposed to be over!”

“It is over. The war’s not going to happen again. That’s part of what I’m showing you.”

Shiloh stared at her as if she didn’t believe her. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Astrid said without hesitation. “I’m sorry we had to show you that, but the worst is over. Are you okay?”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Shiloh nodded.

“Good. Just hold it together. It’s almost over.”

Maybe so, but Homulilly had her doubts that the worst was over. She had known that their trip wasn’t intended to be fun and games, but she had vastly overestimated just how disturbing it would actually be. She hugged Gretchen closer and slowly breathed out.

Then, of course, Mitty had to go and ruin things. Again. “How does a war even work?” she said. “I mean, nobody can die. Wouldn’t everyone just keep fighting forever?”

Astrid sighed, and rose to face her. “That was…definitely part of the problem,” she admitted. “And a major reason why armed conflict is so rare. However, to everyone’s surprise, the initial assault was very successful. As it turned out, the Void Walkers had never anticipated any sort of invasion and had little in the way of defenses. Furthermore, as I explained earlier, your average Void Walker is considerably weaker than any of you are. Within a few weeks of fighting, they had managed to capture a full third of the Withering Lands and were pushing further inward.”

“Really? Huh. I mean, I’ve seen maps. Isn’t the Withering Lands supposed to be one of the biggest territories we have here.”

“It is. Unfortunately, the closer they got to taking over, the harder the war became, and it wasn’t just do to the sheer size of the place. It didn’t take long for the Void Walkers to smarten up and start mounting an actual resistance, and though individually they were weaker, they had the advantage of numbers and fanaticism. They were willing to go places and do things that anyone in the Alliance would balk at, and they never, ever gave up.”

The next exhibit was the last of those ringing the room, this one an old and battered military cap, one set with the four-pointed star that Homulilly had seen on the New Life Alliance emblems.

“Things started to drag out,” Astrid continued. “And the major disadvantage of immortality began to reveal itself: if one cannot truly die, than you were stuck being hurt over and over until you broke, and the Void Walkers proved to be very creative in hurting people. But still they pressed on, convinced that if they kept it up just a little longer and pushed a little harder, they would finally have Reibey and Oblivion in their grasp.”

Gretchen swallowed noisily. “Um, y-you’re not going to show us that, are you?”

“Of course not. But I am going to show you the reason why we failed.” Astrid’s eyes darkened. “You see, something happened then that no one could have predicted. Most of the rest of the afterlife had declined to join in on the assault, but the Alliance had thought that it would stop at that. What they didn’t expect was for an entirely new army to suddenly attack at their rear. One day everyone in Freehaven woke up to find themselves under siege, and the Alliance’s new outposts in the Withering Lands were under attack.”

…

“Caaaaaptaaaaaiiiiinnnnn!”

Captain Chelsea Johnson looked up from the field reports she had been going over. The final push into Twilight’s Crypt was coming up, and though she wouldn’t be a part of it, seeing how she had to defend the coast, everyone was expected do their parts and be ready.

Unfortunately, war could go horribly wrong at any time, and given how frantic Nu’sodka’sii was beckoning toward her with no fewer than four arms, it seemed that it just had.

“Hurrrrryyyyy!” whistled the ai’jurrik’kai communications officer.

“What is it?” Chelsea said as she rushed over. “More suicide bombers?”

“Wooorrrrrssssse! Weeeee’rrrrrrre beeeeiiinnnng invaaaaaaaaded!”

Sure enough, the sensors were all lit up with thousands of dots, all coming from the sea. A second later every alarm in the fortress went completely berserk.

Chelsea broke out into a cold sweat. “What is this? Where are these coming from? The Void Walkers don’t have an armada!”

“Thheeeeeeyyyy aaaaarrrrrreeeeennnnn’t Vooooiiiiiiiiiiid Wwwwwwaaaaaallllllllkeeeeeeerrrrrrs!”

“Then what…”

Then Chelsea had a horrible premonition. She abruptly left the communications array and headed over to the balcony, the one that faced the sea. Behind her, Nu’sodka’sii waved her arms frantically as she whistled for Chelsea’s attention, but she was ignored.

Chelsea opened the door to the balcony and went out to see.

There were considerably more ships in the harbor than there should be. Quite a lot, actually, and from over twice as many species than were represented by the Alliance. Furthermore, the sky had been clear last time she checked. Now it was filled with aircraft, calliopes, and kotoss.

One of the kotoss floated in front of the rest. The wispy, ethereal being hovered just close enough to get everyone’s attention without actually reaching the first line of defenses. “This is Force Commander Tessikin of the United Territories Combined Military!” the kotoss called, her voice magically amplified. “You will stand down and surrender control of this outpost immediately, or we will be forced to attack!”

Chelsea’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?” she said. “I’m not going to-”

Then she stopped, scowled, and tapped her throat. “Are you serious?” she said again, this time her voice booming loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m not surrendering to a bunch of mercenaries!”

“We are no mercenaries,” Tessikin replied. “We are here of our own volition, to prevent you from making a horrendous mistake. Stand down immediately, or face the consequences!”

“A mistake?! How can you-”

“This is not a negotiation, or is it a philosophical debate! You have heard our demands and must respond!”

Chelsea’s mind raced. This was bad, this was very bad. Though they have resigned themselves to the horrors they would have to face and commit for their invasion to succeed, they had expected it to all come from the Void Walkers. This was a wrinkle that they had not anticipated.

“Nu’sodka’sii,” she said over her shoulder. “Contact command, and tell them-”

Then the entire beach on either side of her was consumed by fire.

Chelsea almost fell over in shock. All the gun installations they had set up had simply blown up. She could hear the cries of pain and fear from the gunners that had been at their posts, or at least the ones that hadn’t been instantly disintegrated.

What the hell? The armada hadn’t fired! Why did they just blow up like…

It was then that Chelsea realized that it was unnaturally dark, despite it being a quarter past two in the afternoon.

Chelsea had a terrible, sinking premonition. She slowly looked up.

Blotting out the sky was a huge, hovering disc-shaped…thing, one ringed with violet lights. Ropes of glowing beads of the same color hung from its center.

A spacecraft? A warship of some kind? Chelsea was pretty well read on the various craft designs of the afterlife’s races, but couldn’t place this. Andalite, maybe? No, she had seen andalite ships, and none looked like that.

Then suddenly, she got it. It wasn’t a ship, it was a being. The invaders had brought along a goddamned coronian.

But how? There was only like about…nine of those total! And they didn’t take sides!

Apparently this one had.

“Do you get it now?” Tessikin called. “Either abandon your fortress now and surrender yourself into our custody, or we will be more than happy to wait for you to regenerate to take you in anyway.”

…

“At first they thought that the Void Walkers had some unknown allies that they had managed to send a call for help to, but the truth was much more discouraging,” Astrid said as the vision faded. “Not only were these new assailants unwilling to help out with the war effort, but they had wholly bought what the Void Walkers’ were selling: hook, line, and sinker. And they were not about to let their one possible end to everlasting life be taken away that easily.

“The Alliance’s spirit broke then. It was one thing to hold the course against a bunch of crazed fanatics, but having the rest of the afterlife suddenly rise up in arms against them was the last straw. Everyone was sick of fighting, sick of the pain, sick of dying, sick of it all. And so, though it disgusted everyone involved to have to do so, a meeting between the leaders of the New Life Alliance and the Void Walkers was called, and a truce was drawn up.”

She took them to the final exhibit, the large one in the center of the room. This one was not on a pedestal, just a large glass case over a plain wooden desk, on which sat a pen and an unrolled sheet of paper.

Homulilly leaned in close. The paper was old, but the words on it were still perfectly legible. On the bottom were a number of signatures. On the top was written THE FREE LIFE COMPACT.

As she mused over that, Jordan said, “We surrendered?”

“Not exactly,” Astrid said. “Remember, the Alliance was winning at the time, but they had gone as far as they were going to go. The terms of the Free Life Compact were clear: the New Life Alliance would cede all of the territory it had taken and return home and never again take up arms against the Withering Lands. And in return, the Void Walkers would stay well away from Alliance lands and make no attempt to spread their gospel among its inhabitants.”

And with that, she laid her hand against the case, triggering the final memory.

…

The leaders of three different armies met together on the field of Broken Dreams. Though General Aisha suspected that the name had just been chosen to go along with the Void Walkers’ perchance to give everything overly morbid names, it couldn’t be more appropriate.

Aisha, who stood in command of the humans in the New Life Alliance, stood with Molecular, Mujj, and Der’ong’vey, her calliope, jott, and ai’jurrik’kai counterparts, with a good chunk of the New Life Alliance arrayed behind her. In front of them was a three-sided table. Tessikin hovered with her officers at another edge, with the United Territories camped behind them.

At the third edge was the leaders of the Void Walkers, infuriatingly within reach but forever out of their grasp. Oblivion stood as still and silent as a statue, her cowl pulled down low over her features. Over one shoulder stood the blindfolded being known only as the Matriarch, whom very little was known of.

And on the table sat Reibey himself. Though every single enemy of the New Life Alliance was present, it was he that Aisha directed all of her hate toward. He was the source of everything that the Alliance had been formed to fight against. He was the reason that the majority of the afterlife had been deceived into rising up to defend the indefensible.

Naturally, the deranged Incubator smugly ignored the malice being sent his way. “We are in agreement then,” he said, his telepathic voice even more grating than that of the Incubator that had conned Aisha into her own private hell. “All POW’s will be released, and the New Life Alliance will remove itself from the Withering Lands and swear to never take up arms against the Withering Lands or its sovereign holdings ever again. And in return, our own people will refrain from trespassing on Alliance territory and cease all recruitment campaigns in said territories. The Alliance will make no effort to discourage those outside of its jurisdiction from partaking of Oblivion’s gift, either through force or propaganda. We leave you alone, you leave us alone. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Aisha said, practically spitting the word out. “But…before that…”

“Oh?”

Turning away from Reibey, Aisha turned her attention to Tessikin and her people. “That was a mistake,” she said. “You sided with a devil. And one day you’re going to realize that. Better start practicing your apology, because it better be damned good.”

“Enough,” Reibey said. “Sign.”

Aisha exchanged a mutually angry looked with her companions. Well, with Mujj anyway. Ai’jurrik’kai were blind, and who knew what was going on with calliopes anyway?

Picking up the provided pens, Aisha and Mujj signed on the appropriate lines. Der’ong’vey reached over with one spindly arm and scraped a finger over her line, leaving an oily brown smear, which hardened into a glassy substance almost immediately. Molecular flared, and a puff of calliope glitter was spewed over the final line.

The Void Walkers added their own signatures next, followed by the UT, and it was done. The Free Life Compact had been signed. Aisha prayed that that it would be a long time before they came to regret it.

…

“And now you know.”

Homulilly stood with her head bowed, her long raven hair hanging down around her face like a curtain. The sick feeling from the earlier violent and disturbing memories had ebbed into the background. Now she mostly just felt…tired. Disappointed. Even a little betrayed.

Part of it was residual from Aisha, who had certainly felt very bitter toward those who had risen up to protect the Withering Lands. But most of it was her own.

The Incubators were evil; everybody knew that! How could anyone stick up for one? I didn’t make any sense!

“Now you know the dark side of our little self-made Heaven,” Astrid continued. “Now you know what the New Life Alliance had to ally against in the first place. And now you know the trap that’s waiting to ensnare you. The truce between us and the Void Walkers has held for centuries, neither side willing to risk another war. We have kept up our end and stayed out of their territory, but that hasn’t stopped us from telling the truth.”

Apparently Homulilly wasn’t alone in her thoughts, as Shiloh said then, “Why? Why did they want to stop us? Didn’t you show them what you saw?”

“We did,” Astrid said.

“Then…” Shiloh seemed to be struggling with her question, so she just said, “Why?”

“Because to someone dying of thirst, even a glass of water offered by the devil himself would be tempting. Thus far, no true method of passing on from this afterlife to whatever comes after has been found.” Astrid sighed. “There have been ways to…partially simulate death, but nothing permanent is known to exist. The Void Walkers are the only ones with any tangible claim to it, and having the only known Incubator in their ranks adds credibility to that claim.”

“But why would anyone want to die?” Gretchen said. “Why would anyone want to leave in the first place?”

“Not every place is as nice as Freehaven. There are territories that more resemble Hell than anything else. Besides, forever is a long time. Even the most heavenly of places starts to lose its appeal after a while.”

This answer got a lot of frowns from the group. Homulilly in particular struggled to imagine how terrible another territory had to be to make someone willingly take their chances with the Void Walkers.

Then Amaya had another question, one that took everyone by surprise. “So…Okay, so hear me out: wasn’t it kind of screwed up that we tried to invade them in the first place?”

Homulilly jerked up. “How can you say that?” she said, gaping at Amaya. “You saw what we all saw. You saw what they’re tricking us into doing. We were trying to save everyone!”

Amaya frowned. “Yeah, okay, but we made that choice for everyone. Most of the afterlife didn’t want anything to happen to the Void Walkers, but we chose to do it anyway.” She shrugged. “We chose for them. I don’t know, that just seems wrong to me.”

Wrong? Wrong? The images of the Releasing Ceremony flashed through Homulilly’s mind, of those frenzied girls who had willingly let their bodies be torn apart and their souls sucked up into that pyramid. Wanting to put a stop to that was wrong?

But to further add to her surprise, Astrid didn’t seem to agree. “This may surprise you, but there are many that agree with you, even here in the Alliance itself. Certainly going to war without the rest of the magical girls’ help backfired in a major way. Perhaps if more time was taken, if we made more of an effort to talk to the other species and territories, it would have been different. And in light of what happened, the odds of anyone risking another war are slim to none. The best we can do is educate as many as we can, and help them ready themselves for the long march of time.”

Homulilly swallowed. “So…what do we do? You said that everyone gets tired sooner or later. What do we do to keep that from happening to us.”

“You can’t stop it from happening,” Astrid said. “But you can make the long wait easier.”

“How?”

Then Astrid looked down at Homulilly and Gretchen’s hands, which were still tightly entwined, and she smiled. “It looks like you already know. Love.” This actually got a few chuckles from the group, Astrid being among them. “I know, I know, it sounds cheesy, but I’m being serious. The bonds you form here are even stronger than they were in the world of the living, and actual studies show that those who have someone or even many someones to love and support them, they are able to withstand the long wait without falling into despair.”

“Well. I guess I’m fucked then,” said Amaya after a pause.

Astrid raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

The girl shrugged. “Come on, let’s be real: this place is totally biased toward lesbians. I mean, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with that, but what about the rest of us? I’m straight, and I don’t want to stop being straight! What am I supposed to do?”

Mitty scratched her head. “Yeah, uh, you…do realize that everyone eventually goes gay sooner or later, don’cha? Like, the afterlife changes you and all that.”

“Not if you don’t want to!”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you?” Mitty said, soundly honestly mystified.

“Because it’s not me!”

Astrid slowly nodded her head. “While it is true that romantic love makes things easier, there are more kinds of love out there. Platonic love. Sisterly love. Strong bonds that form between you and your friends, between you and your community. There are many that have held on to their original romantic preferences and still withstood. You can too.”

“What about anti-social people?” Jordan wanted to know. “Because that doesn’t seem fair to them at all.”

“You’re right. It’s not. But unfortunately, we have to work with the hand we’re dealt.” Astrid then turned to address the group as a whole. “Girls, understand that I didn’t show you this just to scare you. I did it because it’s important for you to face the future with your eyes open. As you grow older, you might find yourself changing your mind about a great many things. Even Freehaven might stop being appealing. But whatever happens, remember what you’ve seen today. Do not fall for Oblivion and Reibey’s lies. Do not let them have your soul. Love each other and support however you can, and do not be afraid to accept help when you need. Because we may have come here from a dozen different worlds, hundreds of different countries, and so many points in time, but one way or another, we’re all in this together.”

[jch0w-travels]

ECUADOR + GALÁPAGOS

¡Bienvenidos! Once again, I’m late to post -  it’s been almost a year since our first trip to Ecuador, but to be fair, I did actually start writing during the trip this time. Since then, I’ve returned to the Galápagos twice (and will be heading there again in two days!). By the end of the year, I plan to earn my certification in teaching English as a second language and move to Isla Santa Cruz to teach.

Update 12/2017: I have now been to Ecuador 5 times (4 of those times in Galápagos), and will be returning in two weeks to study in Montañita with the CELTA program at International House Montañita. New post on the other locations I’ve visited in Ecuador coming soon, right after my delayed post on Costa Rica!

7/22, Friday: DAY 1: QUITO

I have to admit, before we left for our trip to Ecuador, I was nervous. I had done most of the planning for us with looking into hostels, places to visit, and the time and cost of bus transportation between cities for months in advance, but I still felt unprepared the week before my departure. My Spanish was limited at best (4% fluent according to DuoLingo), and I had been reading way too much into safety precautions for traveling on public transportation and exploring the cities after dark. Add to the list that I somehow saved getting my vaccinations and securing my bank account arrangements to just the weekend before my departure, the realization that I would never catch up on PokémonGo upon my return, and suddenly I was freaking out.

Now that I’m beginning to write this during our last weekend in Ecuador, I realize how absurd I was being, but I’m grateful for some of the tips I learned (and for the most part, ignored) during that panic. One of the most important to remember is that while traveling in Ecuador, although US currency is standard (since 2008), big bills are not common and rarely accepted at vendors or casual restaurants. You can most likely exchange 20s or higher at banks, bigger supermarkets (SuperMaxi), or break for change at fancier restaurants, but you’re better off carrying 1s, 5s, and 10s. Single dollars will usually be given back to you in coin form, and there are also 50 cent coins in addition to the mix of US and Ecuadorian 25, 10, and 5 cent coins. I also learned that Banco de Pacifico charges the least for ATM fees ($1.58) as opposed to our unfortunate first choice of Bank Pichincha - which charged an unbelievable 20% of the withdrawal amount. Can you blame me for choosing the bank with a black/yellow logo and name like Pikachu?

Update 12/2017: After multiple visits to Ecuador, I now realize that Banco Pichincha does not charge any ATM fees at all. I’m not sure whether this was also true when I originally wrote this post, or if I made a mistake and misread my ATM receipt! Either way - Banco Pichincha is the way to go! (I use a bank-issued Visa debit card from Investors Savings, which allows me 4 free foreign ATM transactions per billing cycle).

The other precaution I read was to only take taxis with orange license plates, and to ask the driver for the fare price or to start the meter before the ride. I honestly didn’t follow the latter at all, because even in instances when we were likely charged “more than average,” the fare never exceeded $10 (except for long drives to/from the airport in Quito) and I always tipped an extra dollar or two anyway, which isn’t standard either but everyone is so damn nice I wanted to tip them all. More on the former rule later, when we maybe almost get kidnapped because I trust people too easily (sorry mom!).

The fact is, I’ll talk to anyone. Most people will tell me that I’m not careful enough, but you won’t believe the amazing people I’ve met, secret places and deals I’ve found, and stories I’ve heard because of that. In this trip alone, I’ve met some of who I think are the best people in the world, and I’m constantly reminded in my travels how much love and light truly exists in this sometimes very scary world. Just remember that despite the negativity we have to sift through daily, there are always incredible friends just waiting to meet you in every corner of the Earth.

We started our trip in Quito, where we arrived to Mariscal Sucre International Airport late at night. We were picked up by Guillermo, who met us at the terminal and drove us through quiet streets to our first hostel, El Hostelito (~$14/pp per night for individual pods). When we arrived, we entered through a giant steel gate door lined with barbed wire above, then walked up the stairs to get to another door leading into the hostel. As we checked in, we asked our hostel hosts if there were any places to eat nearby, but she said she doubted anything was open. She offered to call us a taxi, but when we said we would walk instead, she cautioned us to watch our belongings when we went out. I’m not sure if it was just because it was late, or that she was so adamant about not walking around, but we felt immediately insecure and made it only a few blocks, passing a closed Pizza Hut and a closed Domino’s (on the same block, I swear) before deciding to turn back around. We ended up finishing Will’s bag of Cheez-Its while watching some really terrible TV.

The next morning, we woke up to the breathtaking views and altitude of the mountains surrounding us, and headed to the bus station for our first destination. Of course, one of our first meals was a quick one at the station, but definitely worth it. For $1.50, I tried my first humita, a steamed fresh corn cake wrapped in corn husk - like the most magical cornbread ever. Will shelled out a little more cash ($4) for a full plate of steak, rice, salad, avocado, and papas fritas.

7/23, Saturday: DAY 2: BAÑOS

The bus ride to Baños ($4.50 from the Terminal Terrestre Quitembe, about 3 hours) was unbelievably beautiful. I watched in awe as we carved through the mountains, clouds floating just above the green peaks of trees and land.

Baños de Agua Santa (“Baths of Holy Water”), commonly referred to as Baños, is a city in eastern Tungurahua Province in central Ecuador, named after the hot springs located around the city which have a reputation of having healing properties due to their content of various minerals. It is known as the “Gateway to the Amazon,” as it is the last big city still located in the mountains before reaching the jungle and other towns that are located in the Amazon River basin. Baños is located on the northern foothills of the Tungurahua Volcano, at an elevation of 1,820 metres (5,971 feet) whose activity has been characterized by frequent powerful ash explosions and lava flows can be seen from the town. The last time the volcano erupted in October 1999, all 17,000+ residents were forced to evacuate the city for weeks.

(source: Wikipedia)

When we arrived, it was late afternoon so right after we checked in to Hostel Chimenea (~$14/pp per night for a 3-bed room), we headed out to catch the last of the slivers of sunlight spilling onto the nearby waterfalls and setting behind the cathedral square. Foolishly, we took the advice of our guidebook to eat at a local café called Café Hood, which despite its delicious meals, offered no authentic local cuisine. At least we got to taste some of the handmade sweets on our way back, including a taffy candy spun on wood, unique to Baños. We actually had stopped to buy some colorful hard candies ($1 per bag) but the woman who owned the cart was so friendly that she kept slipping in taffy into our bags for each bag of candy we bought.

That evening, we headed out to the square to check out the bar scene. At the time, it was only around 7pm so all of the bars lining the streets in the center of town were still pretty empty. We settled down at a spot blasting rock music from its open front, where we met the only other bar patron, Mike.

Mike is a United States Navy veteran, who fought in the Vietnam War and has been living in Baños for just about a year, after spending eight years living in Argentina. Like my brother Nathan, he has a deep admiration for Latin America, and like my brother Jordon, was an engineer (mechanical) before retiring. Despite his practicality, Mike is an empathetic man, with a love for the arts; especially music, which he “can’t listen to for too long otherwise I start to become real emotional.”

Immediately upon beginning our conversation, I knew I was meant to meet this person. I don’t mean that in any religious connotation, because like Mike, I don’t quite believe that religion is anything more than “the oldest form of government; they tell you what you can and can’t do, and then they say - by the way, we want your money.”

I just knew that conversation had to happen, then and there. In two hours, Mike gave me answers and asked me questions that I had been searching for and yearning to discover, but simply needed to hear from the right person to truly understand. He had lived a lifetime of wanderlust, with 52 countries and every state in the US of A in all their glory under his belt, which he traveled through on his motorcycle (like my roomie Ethan!). Mike had been through it all, and he was still living for more. I listened to his stories intently, hoping to gain some knowledge from his experiences as he recanted years of his life and all the wisdom that came with that.

He was so unabashedly honest, and I admired that. He didn’t hesitate to admit that because of his time in the war, he often had to come face to face with discrimination against Asians that spurred from that, and he hated that part of himself. As a first generation Chinese American, who has had my fair share of negative encounters with shallow-minded people, I had never heard this side of the story before. It was interesting to hear someone speak about a quality of themselves they hated, and has failed to change at his deepest core, to a person who could very well take offense by it. After Mike returned from the little boys’ room, he said that he wanted to clarify what he meant; that the bad memories create bad expectations of the associated culture he fought as he defended our country, but that he absolutely respects each and every individual and will never allow anything trump that. He then confessed, “I’m a human being and I’m not perfect, but I’ll always be honest.” That commitment to honesty brought up some curiosity from my end, including asking how he managed to live a life so full of travel. While he admitted the Navy funded a good chunk of the start, he told me of the two businesses he successfully built and ran, one of which he sold to an employee for $1 after his wife passed away. In his words, “your ability to adapt is your strongest quality. If you fear nothing, you can do anything.”

It sounds cliche, but that motivation was everything I needed to hear at this point in my life. I’ve never pictured myself settling into contentment, and yet I fear change just as much as anyone else. Mike reminded me that as long as I’m breathing, it’s never too late to learn anything - even how to love. Mike lost the love of his life 21 years ago to breast cancer, and even as he spoke of her to me, his eyes began to well up with tears. She was his second wife, after being divorced for 12 years “with a different girlfriend on my arm each week.” And yet, six months after their first blind date, they were married.

I asked him how - how he knew she was the one, how he could make such a drastic change, and how he made all those years work. The first two questions, he didn’t have much of an answer to. It was the same old spiel of “you just know,” but his answer to the third really stuck. He said that each month, both of them would sit down and tell each other what they had been annoyed with that past month and hoped to improve, and the other wouldn’t be able to respond until a week later, “because time allows you to discover a response, not a reaction.”

There was so much more that I learned from our talk, and I’m so grateful to have met an individual who impacted my perspective and encouraged my aspirations so genuinely. Every time I feel shy about practicing my Spanish, I hear Mike saying, “you can’t fear being judged when you’re making an effort to share someone’s culture, and if anyone wants to judge you for it, fuck ‘em.”

By the time I turned around from the bar, the streets were teeming with people of all ages, but mostly kids looking to party. Mike had recommended The Leprechaun, so we headed there and arrived to a line of people anxious to dance and a crowd just socializing in the street out front. As the obvious foreigners, we got pulled through the line and crowd right upstairs to complimentary shots - yellow, blue and red like the Ecuadorian flag, and lit on fire. It was, very literally, LIT.

By my next drink, I was ready to navigate the crowds to dance to some good ol’ reggaeton music (because the Salsa Room was still too intimidating) and by my last drink, I had an Ecuadorian dance partner. Lucky for me, he spoke English well, skateboards, has a tattoo of a pizza slice and partly owns a cool little pizza place down the street, has style for days, and to top it all off loves Kanye West and Big Pun. I thought of everything Mike told me earlier at the bar, but as classic Jasmine would do, I wrote it off as too good to be true and let him drive me back to my hostel on his motorcycle before letting it go. Don’t even think about saying anything to me about “this is why we worry you’ll be kidnapped some day” because I’ve already heard it.

7/24, Sunday: DAY 3: BAÑOS // CUENCA

The next morning, we woke up bright and early to head to our ziplining adventure, which we had set to depart at 8am. Still half-drunk, we stumbled into town to find the tour’s storefront closed, so we crossed the street for breakfast. Luckily, the friendly woman who booked our tour (and gave us a sweet discount for $20 per person) spotted us and walked in to ask if we wouldn’t mind waiting another half hour for departure to give the drivers more time to prepare. We welcomed the delay to take our time eating breakfast.

It was about a half hour drive up the mountains to our destination, Puntzan Canopy ($20/pp). When we arrived, our guide Jon simply strapped on our equipment for us and showed us the map of the 6 lines we would be going to that morning. There was no extensive safety training or waiver signing, which was a refreshing change from any kind of “adrenaline sport” that we have in the U.S. Once we hiked up to the first line, Jon explained where to put our hands on the line and how to slow down or speed up, then clipped one person in and we were off. I was super nervous for my first zipline but once I made it to the other side I realized it wasn’t so scary.. until our next line. The next line was a bit longer and a lot higher, and we were given the option to do this one in the regular “seated” position or upside down with legs crossed above our heads. Of course, I went with upside down. About halfway through, I started to slow down a little and for some reason thought I might fall and freaked out, repeatedly saying “holy shit holy shit holy shit” to myself - which I later realized would have been a terrible choice for last words. By the third line, I was feeling much more comfortable and got to experience the “superman” position which actually felt the most natural and gave me a sense of what it might feel like to be able to fly. The next few lines were much higher up and required a decent amount of hiking to get to, which was probably terrible idea for the morning after drinking heavily but also super rewarding. I wonder if I would have had the balls to do any of this had we not conquered Fuji last year. Pretty sure there are still remnants of my fear of heights lurking in my gut, though.

When we returned from ziplining (they call it canopying), we had just enough time to pack and check out of our hostel. Our next destination was Cuenca, (~$8 from the Baños bus terminal, 6 hours). Although I had looked into the bus terminal locations, cost, and time from city to city, I didn’t have the time for detailed schedules, so when we arrived at the terminal, we were surprised that there were no direct buses to Cuenca on Sundays. Instead, we could either take a bus to Riobamba or Ambato and then transfer. The problem was, when we arrived to Ambato, we had no idea how to get to the next bus. Since we were the last ones off the bus, I asked the driver where to go, and understood only the direction to walk towards. When we turned the corner and didn’t see any stations or bus stops, we decided to take a break for food. Right outside of the restaurant sat an elderly man, who although seemed like he might be homeless, made no gesture towards us for anything. But while we ate, I noticed one of the employees step outside with a bowl of food and a cup of juice, handing it over gingerly to the man. I thought about how rare this act of kindness would be in NYC and admired the respect the employee emulated. I figured this would be a good opportunity to ask him how to get to Cuenca too, and sure enough - not only did he type out in Google Translate that we needed to take a taxi to a bus terminal; he walked us outside, hailed a cab for us, and told the driver our destination before bidding us good luck.

When we got to the terminal, we were told it would be another 3 hours before the next bus to Cuenca. By the time we would arrive, it would be past midnight. Since I barely slept the night before, I didn’t mind the long bus ride ahead to catch up on some rest before checking in at La Cigale (~$13/pp per night for a 3-bed room) for real sleep. I was so tired when we arrived that when the concierge asked (in Spanish) if I spoke English, I answered (in Spanish) “only a little” and ended up carrying the rest of that conversation in Spanish. He was probably really confused at how slowly I was speaking but whatever, it was good practice.

The city of Cuenca — in full, Santa Ana de los cuatro ríos de Cuenca — is the capital of the Azuay Province. It’s widely known as the most European city in the country of Ecuador due to its highly 16th and 17th century era Spanish colonial architecture resembling cities and architecture throughout Spain. Located in the highlands of Ecuador at about 2,500 metres (8,200 feet) above sea level, the centre of the city is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Trust site due to its many historical buildings.

At least three cultures have left their imprint on Cuenca. When the Spanish arrived in the 1540s, they encountered the ruins of a great but short-lived Incan city called Tomebamba (“Valley of the Sun”). The Spanish eagerly dismantled what was left of it, incorporating the elegantly carved Inca stones into their own structures. Before the Inca, the indigenous Cañari people had lived in the area for perhaps 3,000 years. They, too, had a city here, called Quanpondelig (“Plain as Big as the Sky”).

(source: Wikipedia & Lonely Planet)

7/25, Monday: DAY 4: CUENCA // GUAYAQUIL

When we woke up, we figured we could squeeze in a few hours of exploring the beautiful colonial streets of Cuenca before having to take another bus to Guayaquil to catch our flight out to the Galápagos. We only had about 4 hours to walk around before having to check out of the hostel, so we gave ourselves two missions and decided we would just take photos of whatever we could along the way. Our first stop was food (duh), and we wandered into an inviting little place where one of the hostesses spoke English and welcomed us in. It was here that I ordered the first of many ceviches, none of which were disappointing despite their differences. The one here was ceviche de camarones, a little bowl filled with an abundance of sweet little shrimp in a savory, tangy vinegar with cubes of tomato, garnished simply with tiny slices of red onion and cilantro, accompanied by lime and a classic bowl of roasted corn kernels.

After we had lunch, we went on a mission to search for the best coffee in Cuenca. We didn’t do much research, but once we spotted Cacao y Canela, we knew we found something special. An adorable little café adorned halfway with cocoa beans and cinnamon (appropriate), halfway with kitschy Wisconsin license plates and random signage, we sat down as the only patrons and were quickly served by the attentive waitress. We each ordered a coffee, and Will tried the strawberry cheesecake. After our coffee fix, we walked back to the hostel to pack and check out before embarking on our next bus ride to Guayaquil (~$8 from the Cuenca Terminal Terrestre, about 4 hours).

Once we got onto the bus at the Terminal Terreste de Cuenca, the ticket collector stood up to begin speaking to the bus. At first, we figured it would be the standard, 2-minute protocol of general safety precautions, maybe a spiel about how long the ride would be and when we would stop at a rest area. Nope. That speech turned out to be a solid 20 minutes (at least) about - from what I could understand - the dangers of Guayaquil and foodborne illnesses that could be contracted from certain food and drink there. I was baffled, but the 20-something guy sitting next to Will reassured him he didn’t need to pay attention to any of it. I suppose it made some sense, since Guayaquil is considerably more notorious for street crimes than colonial, picturesque Cuenca. But when we arrived, it didn’t feel too different from my experience living in Cebu - granted, the vibe was not like it was in Cuenca, but I felt at home amongst all the gated homes with glass-topped walls surrounding them, the bustle of people and busses in the busy streets, and the occasional stray dog roaming curiously about.

The difference between the weather in cool, breezy Cuenca to hot, humid Guayaquil was a welcome change for me since I prefer to sweat than shiver, but I guess so do mosquitos. Once we arrived in Guayaquil, it immediately felt more crowded and intense than the calm streets of Cuenca. We hailed a cab and shortly after realized that the driver couldn’t figure out how to get to our hostel, La Casa Tangara ($10/pp per night for a 3-bed room), when he stopped to ask local pedestrians for directions. It took a few stops and wrong turns for us to arrive to the metal gate door that our host slid open, which he locked once we stepped inside. This was probably our favorite hostel of the trip, because despite its metal gate doors and glass-topped concrete walls, the interior was decorated by beautiful botanical murals and equally as welcoming live plants lining the corridors and blooming around the outdoor dining patio. It was a small place, with only 3 bedrooms and a shared kitchen, living room, and laundry service, but the host was kind (and exceptionally friendly to Will), the WiFi was poppin, and the room was comfortable.

When we settled in, we asked the host if there was any place nearby for dinner, at which point he offered to call us a cab. We asked if we could walk there, but he cautioned that since the sun was setting soon, we should probably take the cab either to the mall, or a few local restaurants. Will asked him if it was safe to leave the hostel, and his response was, “Well, since today is a holiday, it should be safer” (it was Simon Bolivar’s birthday) - as if criminals need to be home with their families on national holidays, too.

We ended up taking a cab to the San Marino Shopping Mall, and made a full lap around to explore each floor and the food court before deciding to cross the street down the block to McDonald’s. Will and X have a tradition of trying the McDonald’s in foreign countries, and I guess I’m not completely opposed; I just refuse to have it more than once during a trip abroad. All I have to say is that the McDonald’s in Ecuador is on another level - as in, they have a separate dessert bar inside, and their fries taste at least 5x better.

Once we left McDonald’s, the most reasonable thing to do next was go to the nearest convenience store for snacks. Of course, being SnackGurl, I had to get a wide variety of snacks to try. I wasn’t very impressed - most of the chip snacks tasted kind of stale, and they were pale in comparison to the freshly fried bags of papas fritas you could get from the snack peddlers who boarded the busses with homemade local snacks (chips, peanuts, sliced fruit, etc).

7/26, Tuesday: DAY 5: GUAYAQUIL // SAN CRISTÓBAL

The next morning, we awoke to breakfast made by our host - the most delicious scrambled eggs ever, buttered toast, watermelon, and coffee.

Once we packed, it was time to head to the José Joaquín de Olmedo International Airport to depart for the Galápagos. It’s important to note that the process for checking into a flight headed to the protected archipelago is much more extensive than most flights, despite that it is technically domestic. First of all, there are no direct flights to the Galápagos from outside of Ecuador. Flights depart from Guayaquil, Quito, and Cuenca to either of the two airports in the Galápagos - Seymour Airport (GPS) in Isla Baltra (also known as South Seymour), connected by ferry to Isla Santa Cruz, and San Cristóbal Airport (SCY) in Puerto Baquerizo Moreno on Isla San Cristóbal (also known as Chatham). There are only four flight times during the day, too - one in the early morning, and one in the early afternoon. I would highly suggest planning for at least 2 hours prior to departure time, since check-in requires applying for a tourist transit card ($20), then a preliminary baggage screening before you even step into the airport’s regular security and bag check.

Right before boarding the flight, to my pleasant surprise, I turned around and spotted Giselle, one of my brother Nathan’s best friends. Giss was with her cousin, Claudia, who lived in Cuenca. It was such an awesome moment of serendipity to realize we were on the same flight into Isla San Cristóbal together, and would be traveling to Isla Santa Cruz on the same date as well.

San Cristóbal (also known as Chatham) is the fifth largest and easternmost island in the Galápagos. It is the site of El Junco, the only permanent stream and source of fresh water in the islands, and is also where Darwin first went ashore in 1835. San Cristóbal is also the site of the oldest surviving settlement in the Galápagos, El Progresso, established in 1869. It has since been overshadowed by a second town, Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, located on the southeast coast.

(source: Cornell and Galapagos Conservancy)

When we arrived to San Cristóbal, it was actually a gloomy day with not much sunshine. Once the plane landed, we stepped off the stairs into the windy runway to walk towards the airport, where we were required to pay a $100 entrance fee (cash only!) to the Galápagos National Park. This money goes towards the conservation efforts made to protect the islands’ precious archipelago, where 95% of the land area is designated as protected by the Galápagos National Park Directorate (GNPD). In fact, tourists are permitted to explore specific visitor sites only with Park-certified naturalist guides. The GNPD coordinates group visits to these 60+ sites and carefully monitors ecological conditions.

(source: galapagos.org)

Once we exited the airport, a line of white pick-up trucks were ready to depart from the curb - these are the standard Galápagos taxis that can be found on any of the 5 inhabited islands (Santa Cruz, Baltra, San Cristóbal, Isabela, and Floreana). Of the 21 total islands, there are 18 main islands, 3 smaller islands, and 107 rocks and islets - for a total human population of roughly 25,000. Since most of the islands and islets of the archipelago are not inhabited by humans, they do not permit any overnight stays. In fact, the visiting sites, even on the inhabited islands, are only accessible from 6 am to 6 pm. Since we landed in the afternoon, we only had a little bit of time to visit one of the beaches that day.

(source: Wikipedia)

First, we settled into our hostel Casa de Laura (~$45/pp per night), where unfortunately they had mixed up our reservation. Rather than one room with three beds, we were separated into two rooms, but at least Will and X were directly above my room, despite that we ended up paying more than we expected to for our stay here. They also did not have laundry available here, the bathroom reeked of mildew, and breakfast was not offered, so overall it was not our favorite hostel.

We decided to wander to Playa La Loberia, a beach I had read about that promised an abundance of lazy sea lions, and committed to the long walk down a wide dirt paved road that lead to a rocky beach. I was ecstatic when we finally approached the soft sand after more than a mile of gravel, and saw the first few sea lions lying by the water, basking in the cloudy daylight. Underneath the nearby shrubbery, a few other sea lions hid beneath the branches, resting on each other’s butts. I can’t remember how much time we spent on that beach admiring those beautiful lazy creatures, but by the time we left, the sun was just beginning to set and we were hungry. We headed to a little place decorated with lots of plantlife and trinkets, with flags from all over the world hung from the ceiling. Of course, I had ceviche again.

That night, we met with Giselle and Claudia for drinks and to book a tour with one of the local tour groups that they had spoken with earlier. This is where we met Javier, the absolute friendliest man I have ever met in my entire life. Words can’t do this man justice, so I highly recommend that you visit Pacifictour in San Cristobal to meet him. I guarantee that you will smile immediately upon seeing him, because he glows with a rare genuine joy. Our tour experience with Pacifictour was perfect from start to finish, and I’d like to at least credit Javier for getting us off on the right foot. Besides giving us a discount (we each paid around $120, as I recall - as opposed to the usual $180 for day tours), he was so patient with each of us as we tried on our snorkeling gear and wetsuits to prepare individual snorkel bags for the next morning.

After we settled our tour arrangements, we headed over to El Barquero, one of the few bars in the small surf town of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno. When we first arrived, they looked like they might still be closed, but once we gingerly entered the gate, an older man stepped out of the house to greet us and lead us to the bar that was in the back. Before we could walk in, though, a younger surfer-looking dude asked us for our passports, but some of us were only carrying our driver’s licenses as ID. He made a fuss about this and almost refused to let us in, but Giselle insisted that his demands were ridiculous. By the time we entered the bar, hidden in a small corner beyond the pool table on gravel ground, the tension in the air was already stiff. So when I ordered two shots of whiskey to celebrate Giselle’s birthday and the man arrived from behind the bar with two low-ball glasses for $15 each (beers are usually around $1-3, cocktails don’t normally exceed $10), we weren’t ecstatic. We finished our game of pool quietly before heading out of there, since we had to wake up early the next morning anyway.

7/27, Wednesday: DAY 6: SAN CRISTÓBAL

By the crack of dawn the next day, we sleepily headed over to Casa Mabell where Giselle and Claudia were staying to meet up and walk over to Pacific Tours together. When we arrived, Javier was already ready to go, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with all of our snorkeling gear in tow. I wish I could say that he spent the rest of the day with us, but after he walked us over to the pier, he bid us a good trip and headed back to the tourism office. We didn’t really know what to expect, but we were greeted by a very friendly crew of a captain, first-mate, and our tour guide, John Zúñiga. Our group of friends was joined by one more friend when we met Inês on the tour, who was traveling solo in the Galápagos before and after meeting with friends on the mainland. It felt like fate that we all found each other in these magical islands.

Our first stop on the tour was to León Dormido (“Kicker Rock”), two monolithic rock formations that jut out from the sea, towering over 500 feet out of the Pacific Ocean. When viewed from the south, it looks like a sleeping lion, hence its Spanish name; from the other side, it looks more like a boot, hence the English name. Split with a channel between that reaches 62 feet deep to the sea bed, this iconic landmark of the Galápagos was formed by natural sea erosion to the remains of a volcanic stone. The natural erosion of this ancient cone has created a channel between the rocks that provides the ideal habitat to view a variety of sharks and rays including Spotted Eagle Rays, White-tip Reef sharks, the elusive Galápagos Shark, and Hammerheads. This was a true test to Will’s first time swimming in the open ocean, let alone his biggest fear - sharks.

When we first dove in, the water was so cold we all screamed. First we swam from the boat towards the channel, where most of the shark spottings usually are. It was pretty dark in the channel, so visibility wasn’t the best, but once I spotted the shadow of a gigantic Galápagos shark lurking on the ocean floor, my heart began to pound. I’m pretty sure Will had a panic attack because he started choking on water and swam back to the boat to fix his mask. Although I was nervous at first, once I settled into the movement of the waves, I felt at home. The ocean is by far my favorite place to be, and every part of it is so magical to me - except for the jellyfish that kept stinging me. I couldn’t figure out what the sharp pricks were until later that day, when little trails of swollen skin appeared in all the areas I was zapped, itching uncontrollably. Thankfully these stings weren’t deadly and were sort of like intensified mosquito bites. They ended up leaving scars that lasted a few weeks.

After we exited the tunnel, we swam around Kicker Rock for a while, admiring different specifies of beautiful, vibrantly colored fish. But nothing was as majestic as the gigantic sea turtle, gliding past us playfully with his peaceful vibes, allowing the barnacle growth on his shell to just chill there as if a testament to his absolute chillness.

Our next stop was literally paradise - Bahía Sardina is a soft white sand beach located on the northwest coast of San Cristóbal Island. Made of coral and volcanic ash, the sand here is known for being as soft and white as powdered sugar. While we were here, John advised us to step carefully by the dunes and only walk in the areas that he led us through, so as to not disturb potential sea turtle eggs buried in the sand. Sea turtles lay their eggs on the same beach that they were born, sometimes searching from beach to beach until they find the right one.

While we walked along the crystal clear turquoise waters, a few baby egrets and great blue herons swooped about, pecking at the water for vulnerable fish. Above, a frigate bird circled around menacingly, its swift black tail swirling behind each of its graceful dips. The frigate bird is the largest avian species in the Galápagos, and known as the “pirate bird” because of its second-hand feeding habits. Since the frigate bird doesn’t have any oil glands to oil its feathers, it can only hunt outside of the water, pirating the food straight out of other birds’ mouths!

(source: our awesome guide, John Zúñiga - I learned so much!)

They say that your favorite animal is one that your personality emulates most, and I don’t disagree. I have a lot of favorite animals, but the sea lion is definitely in my top ten. I can’t believe how incredibly lucky I’ve been to be able to see some of my favorite animals in their natural habitats, gleefully living their lives the way the universe intended. I thought that I had reached my pinnacle of happiness last summer when I visited Fox Village in Japan, but seeing these glorious animals basking in the sunlight in their fully natural habitats filled my heart with unbelievable joy.

My brother had forewarned Giselle that she would have a hard time separating me from the sea lions, and I surely didn’t disappoint. As soon as this little guy swam up to me, I was enamored. Sunbathing alongside this spectacular sea lion has got to be one of my favorite memories, and I will always cherish this moment that made me feel so connected with the earth and all of its beautiful creatures.

The next destination was equally as breathtaking, but in a slightly different way. We made a wet landing to the soft sands of Bahía Rosa Blanca, and headed towards shore to reapply sunscreen before embarking on a rocky hike through the trail of lava rocks to a small inlet, where dozens of white tip reef sharks were gliding, weaving seamlessly around each other in perfect synchronicity. We all admired their grace in awe when suddenly John asked, “so who is ready to swim?” Given that sharks usually swim to inlets to feed, where they can trap their prey in the corners of the inlet, we glanced nervously at each other as a few of us hesitated to gear up. Sensing our fear, John explained to us that generally, white tip reef sharks are friendly. They’re curious, and will swim up to humans very closely, but rarely attack unless provoked. They’re also kind of kinky. White tip reef shark’s mating is initiated when up to five males follow closely behind a female and bite at her fins and body, possibly cued by pheromones indicating the female’s readiness. Each male attempts to seize the female by engulfing one of her pectoral fins; at times two males might grasp a female on both sides simultaneously.

(source: John Zúñiga)

Claudia and Will were the first to dive in as I struggled to adjust my mask, and as soon as they entered the water, the sharks began to circle menacingly beneath them. I opted out of fins, as I feel more comfortable swimming without them, but neglected to notice the sharp edges of the rocks and barnacles leading into the inlet until I cut my foot. The cut was minor, so I decided to continue in and swam towards the sharks, who were now slightly less visible as they darted around a bit more urgently, kicking up dusty clouds of the sea floor sand. I nervously made my way towards John, Claudia, and Will, until my mask began to leak. I headed back towards the edge to grab hold of land while fixing my mask, but as soon as I reached for footing, a razor sharp rock sliced my foot, which immediately began gushing blood.

When I asked John if the sharks could smell my blood, he responded, “well yes, of course they can smell it - but I think they know you have human blood, not fish blood.” He seemed unsure, so I asked if he thought it would be safe to get back in the water with them. Again, he hesitated, “welllll, I think it will be okay, if you are brave enough.” You know me well enough to know that I took that as a challenge, so back in the water I went. Unfortunately for me, by the time I got back in, the rest of the group had gotten out for a break. Now I was alone in the inlet, bleeding, swimming above hungry sharks. My heart was pounding with fear and adrenaline at every movement below me. I decided it would be best to keep my bleeding foot out of the water, so I bent my knee and lifted it up - swimming with one leg only. Later, Ines showed me pictures she took as she laughed at me, swimming around with one foot out of the water like a shark fin. Now I was one of them.

After our shark adventure, John took us for a short tour around the bay as he pointed out the different species that he spotted. One of my favorites was the San Cristóbal lava lizard, endemic to the island and super frickin’ cute. The microlophus bivittatus species are small reptiles with long, tapering tails, slim bodies and rather pointed heads. Their toes are long and pointed, and unlike geckos, they are active during the day. Highly territorial, both males and females defend territories against intruders of the same sex. Both sexes challenge intruders initially by performing 'push-ups’ with their front legs, although this behavior is more vigorous in males. Often times, the males will use their tails in defense against each other or predators, which if bitten off, is not fatal but will not grow back. Female lava lizards prefer male mating partners with longer tails, so if you’re a male who is prone to lose in fights, don’t expect to get any.

(source: John & Quasarex)

John also explained to us that the reason why the sand on the beaches of Bahía Rosa Blanca are so soft is because it is composed of fine particles of coral. In fact, the sand is so soft that you can slowly sink yourself into it by shifting and twisting without lifting your feet. Once you’ve embedded yourself ankle-deep, if you try to tug upwards without shaking your feet, you’ll find yourself stuck.

Alas, it was time to leave paradise and board the boat again, where we were served fried fish, rice, and salad for lunch. Like Inês said, it was the most beautiful place we’ve ever eaten lunch. As we started to head back to port, dark clouds began to form. The timing was perfect, because we weren’t scheduled to dock at another stop until we made it back to port, so we were just racing against the clouds to make it ashore. By the time the rain caught up to us, the waves were so rocky that the boat ride turned into a rollercoaster ride. I’m glad no one in our group is prone to seasickness - I love rough boat rides! Along the way, we spotted a humpback whale in the midst of swimming in the storm. The humpback whale, which can weigh up forty-five tons, is perhaps the easiest whale to identify and one of the most fun to watch. Their dark-blue or black bodies are covered in barnacles and they like to “spy hop” by raising their heads out of the water to look around.

(source: About Galapagos)

Once we made it back to port, we felt the wave of exhaustion settle in, so we decided to part ways to shower and rest before meeting together for dinner. Giselle and Claudia had to catch up on homework, so Will, X, and I set out to meet up with Ines. We took Giselle’s advice to “just follow the smells” when we were deciding where to eat, and so we followed the same smell I had been mesmerized by the night before. Let me tell you, that was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, because the food tasted even better than it smelled. It was just a little local spot, called Picanteria “Sapita” with two tables inside, and a few tables outside along with a grill where the delicious smells were emanating from. The choices on the grill were chorizo, porkchop, or chicken - all equally as tempting, but the chorizo looked so pretty that I had to go with that. It was served with a side of colorful pasta salad and a full plate of white rice and beans, almost too much food for me to eat! I can’t remember the exact price, but it was definitely not more than a few dollars, and well worth every cent.

We decided to spend our last evening in San Cristóbal at Bar Iguana Rock, a local bar/lounge with a pool table and dance floor. They were so much more welcoming and friendly than the nasty encounter we had our first night at El Barquero. In fact, I still follow them on Instagram and it looks like they’ve expanded into a restaurant specializing in artful displays of sushi too! I can’t wait to go back to try some, because every photo looks delicious. Coincidentally, while we were there, the first mate from our boat tour showed up to play pool as well! We all knew he had a crush on Claudia so we kept teasing her as he begged her to dance salsa with him.

As the night wound down, the girls left to get some rest before our day of upcoming travel. Will, X, and I, on the other hand, were hungry again. We thought we were hopeless as we started to trek back to the hostel through the sleepy surf town that turned into a ghost town at night, when suddenly, I smelled something. Lo and behold, my nose led me to J&J Restaurante, where burgers and hot dogs were being taken fresh off the grill by Mr. JJ himself (I’m not sure if his name was JJ, we just kept calling him that). Bless you, Mr. JJ. Bless you for your contributions to mankind and late-night snackers.

7/28, Thursday: DAY 7: SAN CRISTÓBAL // SANTA CRUZ

The next morning, we had a lazy start as we packed up and got ready to check out of Casa de Laura. For the first time since we arrived, we decided to turn left instead of right to get into the town. Turns out, there was a beach to the left of our hostel all along - literally teeming with sea lions. I was so disappointed in myself for not spending every night sleeping on this beach, when suddenly I was struck with the pungent smell of sea lion poop. Yes, sea lions poop too. Everyone poops. Either way, it was worth it just to see more of these majestic creatures up close in their home.

Before heading to the pier for departure, we stopped for a quick snack at Patagonia, where I had my first and definitely not my last bolon experience. Let me tell you a little something about bolon. Bolon is an Ecuadorian dish that is made of fried green plantains that are mashed up and mixed with different ingredients - usually with crumbled white cheese - and then formed into a ball and fried again until it is crispy on the outside and soft and crumbly on the inside. Bolon is a slang term that means large ball, so you could translate the name of this dish as green plantain balls, but I just call them heavenly.

On the way to the pier, I decided to pick up some aloe vera for my unexpected (and painful) sunburn that I must have gotten during our boat tour the day before. Since resources on the islands are limited and there are strict restrictions on incoming cargo to limit the amount of pollution, most tourist items like this, sunblock, and other bath necessities are priced double or triple their original cost. It might seem like a rip-off, but if the price tag was the same as it was in your home country’s grocery store, then tourists would likely start to take advantage of the availability and create more waste and need for cargo traffic in and around the islands. So while $28 was not a pleasant price to pay, I respect the cause and took this as a lesson not to forget to apply sunscreen before falling asleep in the open sun on a boat.

So, I know a lot of people have complaints about how tedious airport security check-in can be, but if you ever plan to travel between islands in the Galápagos, be prepared to have your belongings thoroughly inspected and then tag-locked before you board the inter-island boats. Generally, no food is allowed (bottled water is okay), no plants or flowers, no rocks/shells/coral, and shoes with dirt or mud must be cleaned. This is all in an effort to protect the fragile archipelago and the unique species of each island that could be threatened by outside contaminants or harmful species.

The boat ride from San Cristóbal to Santa Cruz was about 3 hours, and we each paid $30 for our tickets. Despite being slightly over-crowded, the boat was pretty comfortable. I don’t get motion sickness, so I can’t speak on this, but Will did not enjoy the ride whatsoever. The rest of us slept pretty much the entire way, though it seemed like Giss had the best nap of all. When she woke up, she shared her theory that being on a boat is a lot like being inside of a womb - just floating and swaying to the motion of the waves like a little fetus - hence why it feels so comforting!

By the time we woke from our naps, our necks were sore and we were docking into the town of Puerto Ayora, the capital of Santa Cruz located on the southern coast of the island in Academy Bay. Although the island of Santa Cruz (also known as Indefatigable) is the second largest in the Galápagos, it is the most populated, including the town of Puerto Ayora as well as the agricultural villages of Bellavista and Santa Rosa. The island itself is actually a large dormant volcano, which last erupted about a million and a half years ago, leaving behind the remnants of its activity in beautiful visitor sites like Los Gemelos, two large pit craters along the road from Puerto Ayora to Baltra that were caused by the collapse of empty magma chambers.

Santa Cruz is also situated next to Isla Baltra, a small island (also known as South Seymour) where the Seymour Airport is located. The longest paved road in the Galápagos runs north-south across the island of Santa Cruz, which leads from the airport ferry at Itabaca Canal on the north coast through the highlands on its way down to Puerto Ayora.

(source: Wikitravel & Galapagos Conservancy)

Have you ever taken a nap that made you feel more exhausted after you woke up? That’s exactly what happened to all of us, because once we docked, we groggily made our way through the bustling port to the line of white pick-up trucks waiting for the throngs of incoming tourists and decided to part ways to rest before meeting again for dinner.

When we arrived to our hostel, Galapagos Native (~$38/pp per night, for a 3-bed room), we were greeted at the receptionist desk by Joffre, who I had been emailing to coordinate our stay before our trip. Joffre is super friendly and helpful, and is a native resident of the Galapagos (could you have guessed by the name of his hostel?), so he has lots of local knowledge and runs his hostel with amazing conservation practices. The only downside to our room was that the window faced the street, and since the top panels only had a screen and no glass closure, the sound came right through. Other than that, it was clean, roomy, and had plenty of outlets for us to charge all of our phones and cameras. At first, we thought the WiFi was shady but after spending more time on the island, we realized that it was the island itself and not the hostel in particular that received spotty service. After all, we were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

That night, we all met for dinner at The Rock, where they were having a cocktail special (2 for $10, I think?). Either way, their drinks and food were delicious. After dinner, we headed over to one of the local bars along the main street of Avenue Darwin, which was surprisingly crowded. This was my first time at Bongo Bar, so I had no idea what to expect when we first walked up the stairs that lead to the rooftop bar, which has beautiful and intimate outdoor seating area, indoor pool table (free!), and both an indoor and outdoor bar. We sat down at a table closest to the bar and immediately were served a tray full of free shots. Of course, this was before I found out that every Thursday at Bongo is ladies’ night, so I just felt all extra special when I took my very first shot of Coco Loco.

After a few drinks at Bongo, we all decided to go downstairs to La Panga, the dance club below Bongo. Now, I have no idea how to dance salsa but Clau and Giss are pros so we all just joined in for fun. As the night got later, it was time to wind down and say goodbye to Inês, who was leaving the next day. It was so sad to see her go, because it felt like we had found such a beautiful travel tribe that lasted only for a perfect few days. 

7/29, Friday: DAY 8: SANTA CRUZ

The next morning, Will and I woke up particularly hungry, so decided to walk down the block. Before we could even make it to the corner, the little bodega a few doors down stopped us in our tracks with its enticing scent of freshly baked empanadas. A small group of tourists were clamoring at the cart to place their orders, and we decided to join in. Before we could even sit down at one of the two plastic tables inside, one of the tourists suggested, “try the salsa.. it’s crack.” It was, indeed, crack. We immediately ordered two more empanadas before walking back to the hostel. From that day on, we woke up every morning and headed straight to the Abra K’Dabra empanada cart at MiniMart Merka 7 before starting the day.

Later that morning, we met up with Clau and Giss at the benches across from The Rock to head out for a day of exploring. Our first stop was to Las Grietas (“The Cracks”), a series of volcanic crevices that were formed during the cooling of molten lava. The porous lava stone of the island allows fresh water to filter down from the highlands into Las Grietas where it mixes with sea water filtering in through the mangroves from the ocean, resulting in a crystalline and refreshing natural swimming pool. To get to this magical sanctuary, we took a panga (water taxi) for about $1 from Puerto Ayora to the otro lado (the “other side”) of the main pier. Once we docked, we followed the signs for the Finch Bay hotel, where the path connects to a short boardwalk along a small beach called Playa de las Alemanes, which leads to another pathway to the beautiful pink salt flats that welcomes visitors onto a cacti-lined trail towards the reward of Las Grietas’ cool waters.

When we arrived, the staircases were already bustling with tourists and locals alike, the wooden coat racks spilling over with clothes onto the hot lava stones surrounding the platform that divers were bravely launching themselves off of into chilly cerulean water. I hesitated to jump in, but the hike leading up had warmed me enough that the cold waters were a welcome refresher, so as soon as the rush of water embraced me, I felt at home again, floating with a perfect view of the sky framed by the towering walls of the crevice.

By the time we hiked back down through the cacti trails, past the vast pink salted waters, and back to the panga pier, we were all exhausted and hungry, so once we docked at the port we headed down Avenida Darwin for food. After a short stroll through some of the smaller streets off the main avenue, we came across the Galapagos Deli, where we stopped for freshly made personal pizzas and ice cream. Since there were some flavors I never tried before, I decided to with the guanabana, and mixed it with some fruta (strawberry) for a delicious combination.

Now that we were full, we walked over to Laguna de las Ninfas (“Lagoon of the Nymphs”), a peaceful lagoon with plenty of shade and a great little dock for napping. By the time I woke up, I realized I had been drooling through a crack in the dock I was laying on - literally, drooling. I haven’t drooled in my sleep since I was a kid, so if that isn’t a testament to how good of a nap it was, I don’t know what is.

Since it was still early in the afternoon, we decided to take a walk through Puerto Ayora towards Baltra, with the goal of reaching a high vista to watch the sunset. The walk was a long climb uphill, and we never did make it to a vista, but we did witness the beautiful palette of pink hues dancing across the horizon while we explored the terrain.

Later that night, we met up with Claudia at Los Kioscos (“The Kiosks”) for some fresh seafood. At the corner of Avenida Baltra and Charles Binford, you’ll find a street lined with local restaurants, framing the cobbled road filled with plastic tables and chairs crowded with tourists and locals picking out their dinner to be cooked right on the grill in front of them. For most dishes, you can choose how you want your dinner cooked - a la parilla (roasted over charcoal grill), al ajillo (pan fried with garlic), frito (deep fried), a la diabla (with spicy red creole sauce), or encocado (in a rich coconut sauce). I opted for shrimp that night, which came with a side of rice, cole slaw, and papas fritas.

7/30, Saturday: DAY 9: SANTA CRUZ

On Saturday morning, we woke up early to head to Tortuga Bay, the gem of Santa Cruz on the southern coast, famous for its expansive and pristine shoreline that gradually descends into the sparkling Pacific Ocean. Visitors have to sign in before trekking on the 1.55 mile path surrounded by cacti, palo santo trees, and matasarno trees that leads to the beach. In the sun, the journey feels exhausting, but once we arrived, the view was breathtaking - a picturesque soft white sand beach that greeted us with gentle breezes.

Since this beach tends to have strong currents, we walked another twenty minutes towards a smaller beach adjacent to lagoons, where the waters are much more calm and ideal for snorkeling or kayaking. On the way there, we passed dozens of black marine iguanas hanging out under the shade of the mangroves. Claudia and I decided to snorkel and sunbathe for a bit while X and Will rented a kayak from a guy with an eight-pack. Unfortunately, Giss had homework that morning so she arrived a bit later and only got to enjoy the shade where plenty of little Galápagos finches were delicately hopping around in search for crumbs around visitors.

Even though we could have spent the entire day basking in the sun right there in paradise, we had one more visitor site in mind for the day, since Clau and Giss would be leaving for Isabela the next morning and only returning to Santa Cruz for one last night on my birthday that coming Monday. We headed back through the flawless horizon of Tortuga Bay and down the cobbled path between the cacti into town again.

Once we got to town, we hailed a pick-up taxi to negotiate a price to visit El Chato. The El Chato Tortoise Reserve is privately owned land, and located just south of Santa Rosa in the highlands. Apparently, admission is $3 but I honestly don’t remember paying, although we were greeted by the owners of the café on the reserve, who offered us complimentary cups of coffee and tea after we had hiked the grounds. I’m not sure if it was because we arrived late in the afternoon and that the reserve is only open to visitors from 8am to 5pm, but it felt like we had the whole place to ourselves.

We only had about an hour there, roaming the open spaces coming face to face with these majestic prehistoric creatures. The Galápagos tortoise is the largest living species of tortoise, and native to seven of of the islands, with a life expectancy of over 100 years. Within the archipelago, at least 14 species of Galápagos tortoises have been identified, although only 11 survive to this day, living on 10 of the largest islands. Several of the surviving species are seriously endangered. One of the species, C. abingdonii from Pinta Island, is considered extinct. The last known specimen, named Lonesome George, died in Isla Santa Cruz on June 24, 2012. George had been mated with female tortoises of several other species, but none of the eggs from these pairings hatched. Charles Darwin’s observations of the differences in characteristics of Galápagos tortoises in 1835 contributed to the development of his theory of evolution.

(source: Wikipedia & Galapagos Conservancy)

As we walked around, we noticed that some of the tortoises were munching on the abundant fruits scattered under trees, so we picked them up and instantly recognized their fragrant smell. Guayaba, or guava, grows all around El Chato and leaves their delicious little fruits for tortoises (or in our case, visitors) to eat. All it took was a little brushing dirt off, and there we had an instant snack!

If you’re reading this, you probably know me well enough to know that Jurassic Park is my favorite movie. Of. All. Time. Because of this, I’ve always kept a special place in my heart for dinosaurs, so coming this close to the unique endangered species of dinosaur-like animals was a lot like that scene where Lex and Tim are sitting in a tree with Alan admiring the brachiasaurus grazing from the trees around them.

It’s important to note that while we were able to enjoy the fruits of the earth (get it? lol), there are certain fruits in the Galápagos that should be avoided at all costs. Manzanitas (little apples) grow from the endemic Manzanillo tree, also known as the Poison Apple Tree due to their highly toxic fruit and leaves. In fact, even just skin contact with the milky white sap that the leaves contain can cause blistering and burning on the skin. Eating the fruit can be fatal too, although only the Galápagos tortoises are able to digest these poisonous apples. It’s a good thing we didn’t mistake manzanitas for guayaba!

(source: Red Mangrove)

As the sun began to set, we realized we only had enough time to quickly explore some of the underground lava tubes that span throughout the volcanic belly of the island. At El Chato, there are several entrances to these tunnels that formed when surface lava cooled and solidified, while the underground molten hot lava continued to flow, eventually leaving an emptied cave.

(source: Galapagos Conservancy)

Since we were the last visitors on the property, the hosts at the café generously offered us as much coffee and tea as we wanted as we posed with real tortoise shells and collected as many guayaba as we could hold. On the way back, our taxi driver suggested that we stop in Santa Rosa for a road-side snack. At first my eyes darted to the empanadas that were huge and crispy, but the real prize were the potato balls that Will still dreams of to this day.

When we made it back into town, we headed to the Kiosks again so Giselle could experience the divine fresh seafood we tried the night before. This time, I opted for the whole brujo (mottled scorpionfish) fish wrapped in foil and grilled right over a charcoal grill in front of our table. As a kid, my favorite part of the fish was always the eyeball, so I had no shame stripping this delicious masterpiece to its bare bones. I just wish I remembered to take an “after” picture for dad, the king of eating whole fishes and cleaning bones.

After we ate, we parted ways to get ready for what we expected to be our last night out together, since Clau and Giss would be leaving for Isla Isabela the next morning, and they weren’t sure how much time they would have upon their return to Santa Cruz before heading back to the mainland. Giss ended up having a lot of homework to get done, so Clau joined me, Will, and X at Bongo to share some drinks and celebrate the beautiful bond of friendship that bloomed from our time together. It had only been a few days, but in less than a week, I felt like Claudia knew me at my core, and that in some past life, we had been sisters bound by the light of our souls. There is really nothing more amazing than the realization of how many incredible, loving beings there are roaming this earth waiting to meet you, and who are meant to change you on your journey through this life. Seven months after this trip, Clau and I still keep in touch almost every day and share our magic moments with each other, because I know that she truly understands me.

When we got there, it was so crowded that we had to hunt for a table to free up in the corner of the terrace before we could sit. Once we did, we took turns going to the bar since we didn’t want to give up our spot, but since my birthday was two days away, Will and X kept buying my drinks for me. We were content with just sipping on our drinks and people watching until Clau leaned in to ask, “So, are there any boys here you think are cute?” to which I shook my head at once I scanned the terrace again. Clau wasn’t convinced, “Really?! But it’s your birthday, we should dance! Are you sure?” Doubtfully, I looked around again, but no one caught my eye except for the bartender, who was so busy I never even saw him look up once, so I told Clau, “Well, the bartender.. but he’s the bartender.” I kept glancing at him, glowing under the bright overhead lights behind the bar, an angelic contrast to the dark and humid air hovering over the crowd, but his eyes stayed low, focused on the swift movements of his hands, pouring, mixing, pouring, mixing. Regardless, a lack of cute boys to dance with was not going to stop me from dancing.. especially not when I had my friend Jack Daniels to keep me company.

By the end of the night, I had taken back an unknown number of Jack & Cokes, and an even more mysterious number of Jack on the Rocks. Clau claims that I was speaking Spanish to her flawlessly, and X claims that I was demanding pizza [in Spanish], but somehow they managed to tuck me into bed that night.

7/31, Sunday: DAY 10: SANTA CRUZ

The next morning, we all woke up far too late. After grabbing a quick empanada to start us off, we headed through the small streets in search of a good place to sit down for breakfast and ended up at a lovely little place called Lo & Lo, which was right next to the Galapagos Deli. Still reeking of whiskey and too ashamed to take my sunglasses off just yet, I struggled to figure out what to order while X and Will revelled in making fun of me from the night before. Apparently, after I demanded pizza, X had set out on foot in search of late night snacks, and had been stopped in the street by a man looking for me. Immediately, I pictured the bartender from the night before and secretly hoped it would be him when I asked, “What did he look like?” but when X started describing him, I knew it wasn’t him. Disappointed, I broke into my bolon reluctantly, unable to enjoy its perfection. Suddenly, X exclaimed, “Wait, that’s him!” as a tall, tan, handsome man took a seat at a table with friends. But it wasn’t him. I needed a nap.

After we ate, we headed back to Galapagos Native to pack and check out before heading to Galapagos Dreams to check in. You may be wondering why, silly Jasmine, would you book two separate hostels within a few blocks’ walking distance of each other? Loyalty, that’s why. I had booked our second location first, knowing that I’d want to go on a tour in search for fur seals. The Galapagos Dreams hostel offered a room and tour package, so we booked this early in the year. Later, when we planned our itinerary and realized we’d be staying in Santa Cruz for longer, we decided that if one of the two hostels turned out to be less than accommodating, at least we would only be staying for a few days at either. Weird logic? Kind of, but the more experiences, the better, right? Change is good! Don’t judge me. Anyway, we had to switch hostels.

Once we settled into Galapagos Dreams (~$30/pp per night for a 3-bed room), which offered a bit more privacy since it’s on a quiet road, we just spent that Sunday afternoon relaxing. Later that day, Will and X were craving pasta, so we headed out for dinner at Café Hernán and some snack & souvenir shopping before calling it a night. Usually, I’m awake when midnight strikes and it’s officially my birthday, but this time, I was knocked out with an open bag of Dorito’s by 10pm.

8/1, Monday: DAY 11: SANTA CRUZ

My 25th birthday started off low-key, with ice cream for breakfast (of course) at il Giardino, one of the cafés on Ave Darwin. After that, X wasn’t feeling very well, so Will and I decided to rent bicycles. In case you don’t know, I never learned how to ride a bike. In fact, both of my brothers and I were never taught, although Jordon has recently learned (yay!). Will took this big brother duty seriously, and decided he wasn’t going to let his lil sis get left out of activities anymore. Unfortunately, after about an hour of learning how to balance in motion, I crashed right into a curb and broke the chain off the rental bike :(

We spent the rest of the day relaxing while X recovered, until dinner when Clau and Giss surprisingly arrived back to Santa Cruz early and were able to meet with us! I was so happy to see them again, and this time they had brought friends! Clau and Giss met Ivan, a Filipino Australian who was traveling solo while visiting Isla Isabela, and then ran into Giss’ cousin with her friend upon returning to Santa Cruz. Suddenly, our little trio turned into a party of eight! Once we all met, we walked around Ave Darwin drinking beers for a bit to decide where to eat. Eventually, we ended up at La Garrapata, the al fresco restaurant right below Bongo, next to La Panga. Ironically, the tall handsome man who had asked X about me was our waiter that night.

I can’t tell you how lucky I felt that night, surrounded by old and new friends, as if the universe was reminding me that the world is full of loving people just waiting to be met. And just as I was relishing in the sweet company surrounding me, the bartender from Bongo came hopping down the stairs, straight to the bar of La Garrapata to pick up a plate of food before disappearing upstairs again. I don’t think anyone else caught me in that moment of delightful surprise other than Clau.

I’m not sure who told the waiter it was my birthday, but after I devoured my delicious ceviche dinner, I was surprised with a slice of chocolate cake and candles. Giss and Clau even got me a present so that I had something to unwrap - and it was the most perfect gift - a stuffed animal sea lion that doubled as a backpack.

After dinner, we decided the only proper way to end the night would be to return to our beloved Bongo. By the time we got upstairs, I was so nervous that I couldn’t even bring myself to the bar to order drinks, let alone look the bartender in the eyes. Instead, I played it off as being tipsy and stole glances of him every now and then. Somehow, news had spread from La Garrapata to Bongo that it was my birthday, as one of the servers brought over a flaming shot for me. Soon, we were taking group shots and I was d-r-u-n-k. We were pretty much the only patrons at the bar since it was a Monday night, but that didn’t stop us from having a great time. I think everyone started to catch on to my crush, because as we were dancing inside, Giss nudged me and nodded behind me as a signal to turn around. Of course, who else would be standing there watching us dance but the dreamy bartender. Still nervous, I quickly turned back around without so much as eye contact.

By the time we were ready to leave, literally every person in our party had offered some kind of encouragement to talk to the bartender. My secret crush was now public news. Too drunk to compose myself, too nervous to strategize a plan, I decided to just walk away. But just as we were descending the stairs, Ivan asked us to wait for him. “Be right back!” he said, and I thought nothing of it, assuming he was running to the bathroom before the walk back to our hostels. A minute later, he returned. With the bartender.

Suddenly, I was face to face with this stranger, but somehow when I looked into his eyes, I felt like I had known him for lifetimes before. “It’s her birthday, and she thinks you’re cute,” someone said - I don’t know who, everything around me was now a blur - “Really? Thank you,” he said with a sweet smile before he asked my name. “Jasmine,” I whispered, as he took my hand, kissed it, and said, “Raúl.” My heart was beating out of my chest.

Pretty soon, we realized that we could hardly speak each other’s languages as we scrambled to find a way to stay in touch. I tried to explain that I was traveling with a phone that didn’t have service on it, so I couldn’t do much. He took his phone out, and I nervously chose Facebook, typing my name in. Never in my life have I ever been more frustrated at how many other Jasmine Chows exist on this planet. Once he realized I was having a hard time finding myself, he just pulled up his phone pad and asked me to put my number in. Foolishly, I did this, and left with a kiss on the cheek… only to realize a block down the road that there would be no way for him to contact me with that number until I returned back to the US. Jasmine, you idiot.

8/2, Tuesday: DAY 12: SANTA CRUZ

A few hours later, we were waking up at the crack of dawn for our last tour in the Galápagos, and my final chance to spot the elusive Galápagos fur seal. Ever since we began planning this trip, I had been on a mission to find the fur seals. I had even coined a jingle called Fur Seal Island with a catchy tune that I caught Will humming along to once. In fact, when we booked this particular tour to Isla Bartolomé with Galapagos Dreams Tours ($175/pp), I had specifically asked if there was a chance we would see fur seals.

I suppose you could say that Pacific Tours in San Cristobal had spoiled us, because we certainly weren’t expecting the large group that joined us on this tour. At exactly 6:00am sharp, a mid-sized bus pulled up in front of our hostel to pick us up, as Jonathan (who owns Galapagos Dreams), handed us our snorkeling gear to take aboard. Not much was explained to us about the tour beforehand, so we were completely unaware that we’d be spending our day with the same people on the crowded bus, which we were last to board onto.

When the bus arrived to the port at Baltra an hour later, we groggily made our way out to join our group at the dock. Soon, we realized that the tour was catered for Spanish-speakers, and we were the only ones who needed the tour guide to translate to English for us. Somehow, I felt like our version was trimmed down a bit, and lacked the jokes and anecdotes that we enjoyed as a group on our San Cristobal tour. Regardless, it was a beautiful sunny day, and I was ready to enjoy the spectacular views from Bartolomé. Will and X, on the other hand, were still exhausted from celebrating the night before and both slept through the entire boat ride.

Isla Bartolomé is a volcanic islet just off the east coast Isla Santiago. Although is one of the “younger” islands in the Galápagos archipelago, it is the most visited and photographed of all the islands. With a total land area of just 1.2 square kilometres (0.5 square miles), this island offers some of the most beautiful landscapes in the archipelago, consisting of an extinct volcano and a variety of red, orange, green, and glistening black volcanic formations. Bartolomé is famous for its Pinnacle Rock, a volcanic cone, that was formed when magma was expelled from an underwater volcano; the sea cooled the hot lava, which then exploded, only to come together and form this huge rock made up of many thin layers of basalt. When we arrived, we docked at a small bay opposite Pinnacle Rock and began to climb the 600 meter trail to the 114 meter summit to enjoy views of Pinnacle Rock, the immense black lava flows at Sullivan Bay and the rest of Santiago Island, and Daphne Major and Minor.

(source: Wikipedia & Galapagos Conservancy)

Along the way, I began to talk with a woman who works for IBM and was traveling solo from Venezuela. She was really sweet, and we bonded over our opinions on enjoying life and the little time we have on this earth. After our hike, we headed back down to the boat, which took us to the north beach adjacent to Pinnacle Rock. Here, we were able to snorkel around a particularly active reef, where tons of colorful fish were swimming around. Since it was an overcast day, the water was too cold for most people. X and Will had pretty much determined they were going to spend the entire tour day napping whenever they could, so they took this opportunity to lay on the beach. But for me, it was my last afternoon in the beautiful paradise of the Galápagos Islands, and I wasn’t going to waste any chance I had to jump into the ocean.

I’m not going to lie and say that I wasn’t disappointed when the tour guide told me that fur seals are hardly ever spotted during the day, but I was still glad to swim around the magnificent sea life I was feeling particularly grateful to be surrounded by that day. So there I was, minding my own business, drifting along with the currents and marveling at the beautiful fish, when suddenly a playful sea lion swam out of nowhere and started twirling all around me. Now, I was perfectly aware of the rules - humans are not allowed to touch any animals in the Galápagos, especially sea lions, whose mothers abandon them if they smell the scent of a stranger on their babies. I did my best to avoid bumping straight into this little guy, but he literally bopped his nose right onto the GoPro I was holding onto and proceeded to swim circles around me! By now, the other tourists that had been relaxing on the beach were clamoring to get into the ocean to get a closer look, but once the crowds got in, my playful friend disappeared back into the waves. I like to think that he was a messenger sent by the fur seals to wish me a happy birthday and apologize for their absence.

After snorkeling, we boarded the boat again for lunch before embarking back to Santa Cruz. Since this was a much larger tour group, the boat was larger too, and was equipped with a kitchen and dining area below deck. We enjoyed a nice hot meal prepared by the crew before heading back to shore. This time along the way, I chatted with Javier, who was traveling with his wife, parents, and two daughters and their boyfriends from Puerto Rico.

By the time we arrived back to Puerto Ayora, it was late in the afternoon and we were exhausted. We headed back to the hotel, but I realized I didn’t have any more shampoo left, so Will and I set out to walk to the supermarket by the pier. It wasn’t a long walk - only about 10 minutes, but the entire time, I felt like people were looking at me. I get paranoid all the time, so I tried to brush it off, but I couldn’t help but notice eyes from shops and cafes all along Ave Darwin glancing at me, some turning their heads to look. Feeling self conscious, I asked Will if he noticed, but he was busy on his phone. He started to reassure me, “No one is looking at you,” when suddenly, as we passed La Garrapata, he said, “Oh wait, our waiter from your beeday just pointed at you.” I thought this was strange, but had no explanation, so by the time we got to the supermarket, I forgot about it all. That is, until we started on our way back. Hands now full with shampoo and nail polish remover, and the sun already set, we walked along Ave Darwin back towards our hostel. Again, I felt eyes on me, and thought I even caught someone chuckling at me. Now it felt like the Twilight Zone and everyone knew a secret that I wasn’t aware of yet. Then, as if the stars themselves had done this for me, there he was.

I’ll never forget that image of Raúl, with a teal tank top and a backwards burgundy hat on, smiling that dreamy grin that could melt the skin right off of me. He was standing with friends, eating out of a granola foil or candy wrapper. “Hello,” he said. I was literally speechless. All I could do was smile and keep walking. A few strides away, an American couple behind us were giggling. The woman said to me, “Those guys were definitely checking you out.” I couldn’t even bring myself to glance back. Jasmine, you idiot.. after giving him your number, which he can’t even use to contact you, and realizing that you hadn’t activated WhatsApp on your travel phone so you couldn’t even use that with WiFi, you just walked past him? Idiot.

Now we were back at the hostel, and I was baffled at myself. I was desperately trying to connect to WiFi to ask Kellie for advice, but nothing was going through. Feeling defeated again, I took a shower, and we decided to head back to il Giardino for dinner. At dinner, I could hardly eat. I was suddenly feeling so nervous again, and I didn’t know what to do. Will and X insisted that the only thing I could do was to go back to the bar that night. They weren’t going to come with me, but it was the only way I’d get to see Raúl again. So after dinner, I packed all my bags, knowing we would have to leave the next morning at 5:30am to take a taxi to the airport. I didn’t know what time I would be out until, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

My heart was beating like a drum again as I walked down Ave Darwin. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as I tried to swallow every breath. I climbed the stairs to Bongo slowly, nervously. When I got to the last step, I stopped. There he was, glowing under the overhead lights just like the first night I saw him, and suddenly a wave of calm washed over me. I took a seat at the bar and asked for a Cuba Libre, and then I watched him - pouring, mixing, like that first night. But this time, he looked up, and there I was - falling in love with him.

I spent the rest of the night sitting on that bar stool until closing, mostly just chatting with the few other patrons, including a frequenter named Chino, and a scuba instructor named Victor who tried to earn a quick $40 to split with me by bringing me over to a table that told him they’d pay him to get my attention (I refused). At one point, Raúl asked to take a photo with me, which I’m pretty sure he then sent to his friends. Coincidentally, shortly after we took the photo, the tall waiter who had served us on my birthday came running up the stairs laughing, to playfully punch Raúl in the arm. They had been friends all along - the guy who, at the beginning of our trip to Santa Cruz, was looking for me, and the guy who, by the end of our trip, I had been looking for.

After he closed the bar, Raúl took me for a walk around Puerto Ayora, and asked me if I was hungry. Instinctively, I said yes (because I’m usually always hungry) but I was still too nervous to eat, so when we sat down and he ordered two enormous identical plates, I’m sure he got the wrong impression of my appetite - after all, he scarfed down his entire plate of chicken, rice, beans, salad, and fries in a few minutes, and all I did was pick at my fries. When he got up to pay, I offered some money, but he refused. Feeling guilty about all the food I was wasting, I asked him if we should wrap it, and he just assured me that it was okay. He was so genuine in the way he said, “it’s ok, you’re full” - all I wanted to do was kiss him.

By the time Raúl walked me back to the hostel, the sun was just about to begin rising, and our taxi truck was already waiting outside. When he hugged me and asked me not to go, something in my heart told me I knew I would be back, so I promised - I’ll be back.

8/3, Wednesday: DAY 13: SANTA CRUZ // QUITO

Still sleepless when we landed in Quito, we stopped for a quick bite inside the airport before hailing a cab to our hostel, Hotel Cuba Vieja (~$25/pp per night for a room with 2 beds & a cot), a beautiful and cozy little place with colonial vibes and the most amazing complimentary breakfast. When we arrived, I immediately fell onto the bed to take a nap. By the time I woke up, it dawned on me the huge difference in WiFi connectivity here in Quito versus in the Galápagos, as messages started spilling in. I was surprised that the boy I met at Leprechaun in Baños had found me on Facebook and messaged me to let me know he had taken a bus to Quito and would be here for a few days with friends.

We met up at the Juan Váldez Café at Plaza Foch in La Mariscal Sucre, where he was hanging out with a friend named Iris, a beautiful blonde Russian who spoke perfect Spanish and English too. Little did I know in that short encounter with Iris that she would become one of my closest and dearest friends, who I would return to Ecuador with a few months later.

Later, we met up with Will and X at Azucar Beach just across the street for some drinks. I was feeling extremely tired and congested from the elevation of Quito, so I could barely finish my beer before needing to call it a night.

8/4, Thursday: DAY 14: QUITO

The next morning, we set out early to take a taxi to the TelefériQo ($8.50 round-trip for foreigners), a gondola lift running from the edge of the city centre up the east side of Volcán Pichincha to the Cruz Lom lookout at 4,100 m (13,451 feet). There’s also a path from the Cruz Lom lookout that leads to the summit of Rucu Pichincha, but there have been many reports of robbery and assault at all times of the day, so it isn’t recommended.

It’s actually suggested that visitors spend a few days in Quito to become more acclimated with the altitude before even visiting the TelefériQo, but we were eager to spend the day exploring, since we had initially planned our itinerary to only spend 3 days in Quito and the last 2 days in Otavalo. After we rode the TelefériQo to the top, we took some photos at the lookout and rode it back down. When we were done browsing the souvenir stands at the bottom, we started to head back towards the main road to catch a taxi when I started chatting with a man also headed that way. When he asked us where our next destination was, and I told him we wanted to see the center of the world and visit the Intiñan Solar Museum, he offered to drive us to both, and two additional destinations, for $30 total.

This is the part where I broke the “only take taxis with orange license plates” rule, since his taxi was actually a van. I know what you’re thinking, but it gets even weirder.. because once we got to the end of the winding road that leads up to the TelefériQo, he stopped the van, and opened the door. Then he explained that his brother Jesús would take us from here - his brother was parked in a burgundy 4-door, with his son in the back seat. Then he asked us, “is it ok if his son goes with you too?” Baffled, I nodded, and got into the front seat of the car. I know what you’re thinking. X and Will were thinking it too, as they reluctantly got into the back seat with this boy who couldn’t have been more than 10 years old. As we started to drive, X passed me a note on his phone that read, “this feels sketchy,” but for some reason, I trusted that everything was going to be just fine.

It was a silent hour-long ride to the Museo Solar Inti Ñan (Intiñan Solar Museum), but once we arrived, I think Will and X felt more relieved. Admission to the museum is only $4 for adults, and includes a guided tour in English or Spanish. Our guide was fantastic, as she took us throughout the museum grounds to teach us about the indigenous tribes of the Amazon, the dangerous animals and insects of the jungle, fun physics experiments to prove that we were standing at the center of the earth, and even live guinea pigs. Although the equator line has been remeasured, many people still consider this the true Mitad del Mundo (“Middle of the World”). In fact, if you bring your passport to the Intiñan Museum, you can have it stamped with a Mitad del Mundo stamp.

At the end of our tour, we got to learn about the origins of the cacao tree, the cocoa bean, and go through the process of making chocolate - including tasting a fresh cocoa bean taken out of a cocoa pod, and the end product of the dried cocoa bean that results in cocoa butter and cocoa powder. Then, we got to browse the wide assortment of Pacari chocolate, the first single-origin organic chocolate entirely made in Ecuador. The word Pacari means “nature” in Quechua, an indigenous language of the Andean region. I’m usually not a big fan of chocolate (I prefer salty snacks over sweets) but Pacari’s Café Cubierto con Chocolate (chocolate covered espresso beans) has made it into my top 5 favorite treats.

Our next stop was Volcán Pululahua, an inactive volcano in the Pomaqui Valley of the Pichincha Province that erupted 2,500 years ago, leaving a huge volcanic crater that has since grown green and lush. At 34 square kilometers, the volcanic crater is one of the largest in the world, with a lava dome in the middle that rises around 500 meters above the crater floor and is covered in cloud forest vegetation. Believed to be first settled by the Incas, Pululahua is one of the only two inhabited volcanic caldera in the world, and the only one cultivated by its inhabitants. Pululahua is Quichua for “Smoke of Water” or “Cloud of Water” which probably refers to the neblina (fog) which rolls in around midday every day and fills the crater. Because it virtually never rains at Pululahua, the fog is the only real source of water for the crops cultivated here, supporting cloud forests and many species of orchids and fertile farmland. For this reason, Pululahua was declared a Geobotanical Reserve in 1966 and is regulated by Ecuador’s Ministry of the Environment.

(source: ecuadortravelsite.org)

Visitors can descend into the actual crater of Pululahua but we decided to take in the view at El Mirador, the observation terrace near the south west side of the calder, before stopping into the gift shop where we picked up some souvenirs from a nice woman who tied matching woven bracelets onto our wrists (I haven’t taken it off since then). Afterwards, we headed to our last destination of the tour.

When Jesús pulled up to the curb of Ciudad Mitad del Mundo (“Middle of the World City”), he mentioned to me that since there is a fee ($3 admission) to enter the monument grounds, he and his son would wait for us at the curb. Mind you, I was only 4% fluent in Spanish at best, so most of the time, I could understand the general point of something but miss details. We got out of the car and walked up the steps to the monument entrance, towards the 30-meter-tall polished stone trapezoidal monument topped with a brass globe. The tower was constructed between 1979 and 1982 by Pichincha’s Province Council to replace an older, smaller monument built by Government of Ecuador under the direction of the geographer Luis Tufiño in 1936.

(source: Wikipedia)

Exhausted from the long day, we headed back quickly after just few photos and a quick lap around the windy grounds, without even bothering to visit the ethnographic museum. But when we returned to the corner of the curb we had been dropped off, we couldn’t find Jesús. X and Will started to panic, thinking that he had driven off with our souvenirs and abandoned us. That didn’t make sense to me, since we hadn’t even paid him the tour fee yet, and we had all of our valuables with us. So we waited, as time crept by. The guys started looking around the parking lot, thinking maybe he decided to park and take his son inside, but the car was nowhere to be found. I started to worry a little too, but then I remembered we only spent about 10 minutes exploring the grounds, which he probably didn’t expect. I reasoned that maybe he took his son to get something to eat, or maybe the kid had to pee (I know I did). Just as the sun began lowering, and we were debating hailing another cab, there he was, pulling around the curb.. the boxy burgundy 4-door that reminded me so much of our old-school Toyota family car from my childhood. When he pulled up, I was ecstatic. I felt like I had just successfully proven that my gut feeling was right all along. When Jesús dropped us off at our hostel, we handed him $40 and some Pacari chocolate for his son. In return, he handed over his business card for Transporte Turistico - turns out he was legit all along. We highly recommend Jesús Guamán (WhatsApp: 0988 178 109, Email: jesusillicachi@hotmail.com).

That evening, we met up with Nathan’s friend Sophie, who was born and raised in Quito and studied abroad in Boston where she met my brother on a salsa dance cruise. Luckily, Sophie shared the Chow family affinity for international cuisine and recommended that we try Hasta la Vuelta Señor, a classy sit-down restaurant with amazing authentic dishes from the highlands. We tried the festival de empanaditas, which was like a sampler that included a selection of small corn pancakes stuffed with cheese, two small puff pastries with cheese filling and two small meat filled maize pastries, which were all delicious. We also had the mote con chicharrón, which is boiled white corn with fried pork rind, and a few different drinks including jugo de naranjilla (my favorite) and chicha, a maize beer originating from the Andes.

Luckily, our hostel was just a few blocks away from the restaurant, because by the time we left, we were all sleepy and cold. Sophie explained to us that in Quito, a range of seasons happen each day - from a hot sunny day in the afternoon to a chilly autumn night after sunset. Because of its elevation, Quito receives some of the greatest solar radiation in the world, meaning that even though it doesn’t necessarily feel overwhelmingly hot, the sun can easily burn during the day. Like its weather, the city of Quito offers a wide range of culture, from the club district of La Mariscal where we were staying, to the foothills of the Andes mountains. Sophie was born and raised in Quito, and by talking to her, I could tell how much love and pride she has for her city. We were lucky enough to share our experience with a native of the city. In fact, Sophie’s love for Quito was what inspired us to cancel our last leg of the trip to Otavalo and extend our stay in Quito instead.

Quito, formally San Francisco de Quito, is the capital city of Ecuador, and at an elevation of 2,850 metres (9,350 ft) above sea level, it is the highest official capital city in the world and the one which is closest to the equator. It is located in the Guayllabamba river basin, on the eastern slopes of Pichincha, an active stratovolcano in the Andes mountains. With a population of 2,671,191 according to the last census (2014), Quito is the second most populous city in Ecuador, after Guayaquil. In 2008, the city was designated as the headquarters of the Union of South American Nations. The historic center of Quito has one of the largest, least-altered and best-preserved historic centers in the Americas. Quito and Kraków, Poland, were the first World Cultural Heritage Sites declared by UNESCO, in 1978.

(source: Wikipedia)

8/5, Friday: DAY 15: QUITO

The next morning, I met with Ivan at the Juan Váldez Café at Plaza Foch again to explore the cathedrals of Quito. We took a taxi to the northeastern part of the Old Town, where Basílica del Voto Nacional (“Basilica of the National Vow”) looms high on the San Juan hill as the largest neo-Gothic basilica in the Americas. Rather than gargoyles, Ecuadorian animals like tortoises, iguanas, and armadillos protrude from the church’s side, decorating the high towers that visitors can climb after walking a wooden plank inside the main roof. Admission into the church is $1.50, and an additional $2 to access the towers. Inside the sanctuary, beautiful stained glass spills sunlight onto the cold concrete in soft pink hues that also graze fourteen bronze statues that represent eleven apostles and three evangelists. The real prize, however, is seen from the balcony and the rooftops, where we took in spectacular aerial views of the Old City and La Virgen de Quito in the distance.

The basilica was proposed in 1883 by Father Julio Matovelle as a monument as a perpetual reminder of the consecration of Ecuador to the Sacred Heart, and by 1884 the president had begun budgeting for the construction. It wasn’t until 1892 that the first stone was placed, and finally by 1909, the Heart of Mary Cathedral was constructed as a religious commitment in the name of the country. The basilica was blessed by Pope John Paul II on January 30, 1985, and it was consecrated and inaugurated on July 12, 1988. The basilica remains technically "unfinished,” sunlight basking on the bare tresses that lead to the rooftop. Local legend says that when the Basílica is completed, the end of the world will come.

(source: Lonely Planet, Frommers & Wikipedia)

Our next stop was La Iglesia de la Compañía de Jesús (“The Church of the Society of Jesus”), better known as La Compañía ($4 admission). The Jesuit church is one of the most significant works of Spanish Baroque architecture in South America, known for its large central nave, decorated with gold leaf, gilded plaster and wood carvings after 160 years of construction from 1605 to 1765. The floor plan of this beautiful church forms a Latin Cross, creating perfect symmetry with its walls that drip with gold. Photography isn’t permitted, but rules are made to be broken, right? :)

(source: Wikipedia)

After our day tour around Old Town, we headed back to La Mariscal, where we split ways, and I went to meet Will and X for dinner plans with Sophie and her boyfriend. At first, we planned to meet at the food trucks at the corner of Avenue Mariana de Jesús & Av. Río Amazonas, which was just a short walk away from our hotel. But when we arrived, it was so crowded that there was barely any room to walk between the throngs of people, sitting on the pavement, on the curbs, standing around, framed by a perimeter of food trucks in a dark parking lot lit only by the fluorescent bulbs inside of the trucks. For a moment, I felt nostalgic - like I was in highschool again, going to the Grease Trucks in New Brunswick for the first time.

Once we spotted Sophie and she introduced us to her boyfriend Miguel, they suggested we head to another location with seating. We hopped into their car and headed over to La Platea, a beautiful little food truck stop at Avenue La Coruna. The area was decorated by recycled materials, crafted into adorable crate seating and unique artwork all around. Designed with a great use of space and much better lit than the previous location we tried, this spot felt more like Smorgasburg on a summer night in Coney Island, and it was just as crowded. Long lines stemmed from every single one of the trucks, leading into the central lounge where every seat was taken, whether it was a wooden crate, a bundle of hay, or a vintage stool. After browsing all of the delicious options, Sophie and I placed our orders at Cleto’s Burgers while we scanned the crowds for parties nearing the end of their meals, hoping to eventually poach their table. Finally, we were able to sit down and enjoy our dinner together before Miguel and Sophie drove us back to our hotel.

8/6, Saturday: DAY 16: QUITO

The next morning, we woke up just as the sun began to rise for a road trip to Cayambe with Miguel and Sophie. Since Miguel and Sophie live on opposite ends of Quito, Miguel must have woken up in the middle of the night to pick up Sophie before heading over to us. The drive to Cayambe was about an hour and a half northeast from Quito, towards Volcán Cayambe. Sophie and Miguel wanted to share one of their favorite restaurants with us: a place called Café de la Vaca that is well known in Quito for its delicious food, sunny ambiance, and fresh milk. Unfortunately since it was a weekend, it was extremely crowded, so rather than wait hours for a table, we enjoyed the beautiful green landscape surrounding the restaurant, played on the swings, and then headed out on our way to another local restaurant.

On the way through Cayambe, we stopped at Quitsato Sundial, a giant circular platform of a mosaic with light and dark pebbles drawing an eight-pointed star that indicates the solstices, equinoxes, and intermediate lines pointing to the cardinal directions. In the center of this platform there is a cylindrical orange tube which serves as a gnomon, pointing to the corresponding hours and months of the year in the platform according to the shadow cast by the sun. From here, we could see Volcán Cayambe, the only place where the Equator passes through a glacier and the highest point on the Equator in the world.

(source: Wikipedia)

When we got into town, we stopped at Platos A La Carta for breakfast, where we shared queso de hoja and bizcochos (cheese and biscuits), a delicious Cayambe local favorite. We also ordered some other breakfast dishes, which came with drinks. I was so hungry and thirsty that I didn’t even think to smell the drink or ask what it was before taking a sip - which I would soon admit as a mistake when I realized it was pineapple juice. Turns out I’m still allergic to pineapples.

After getting sick, I was feeling exhausted, so we started to head back to Quito. On our way back, though, we spotted a restaurant called Guarango Zero advertising cuy, which Will, X, and I had not tried yet. Cuy is a delicacy in the Andean region where it was first domesticated as early as 5000 BC for food by tribes. The name cuy comes from the the indigenous language of Kichwa, because of the high-pitched bird-like sound the animal makes. In Ecuador, cuy was the main source of meat before cattle were introduced to the country, and became a status symbol because it meant you had enough money to eat meat as a luxury. Later, the animals were brought over to Europe by Spanish, Dutch and English traders in the 16th century and introduced as exotic pets because of their docile nature. Since then, the animals have adopted the name guinea pig, though the exact origin of the name is unclear.

(source: Wikipedia)

I know what you’re thinking - I’m a monster for eating an adorable little guinea pig. But to be honest, I feel like if you eat any kind of meat, that’s an unfair judgement. To me, all animals are adorable, but I also enjoy the idea of embracing all cultures, including native delicacies. I must admit that I struggled with the idea of dining on our first pet (R.I.P. Guinea) even before I left for our trip, and I still had my hesitations when the whole roasted cuy was placed on the table after an hour of preparation. But when you think about how cute baby chicks or piglets are and then devour nuggets and ribs without guilt, it seems silly to draw the line at an equally cute/edible animal. Anyway, I didn’t really enjoy the taste or texture - it was quite gamey and tough to chew, like dry jerky with a crispy skin. Apparently, the age of the cuy and preparation process plays a big factor into the taste, so I wouldn’t be opposed to trying it again, especially in colonial Cuenca, known as one of the best places for cuy.

Stuffed and sleepy, we headed back to Quito. After Miguel dropped us off, it seemed like we were all thinking the same thing - how incredibly grateful we were to have met Sophie and Miguel, and what amazing human beings they both were. It was so inspiring to explore their city with them, especially because because they love living there so much. We hope to share our home with them when they visit us in Jersey and NYC!

Suddenly it was our last night of the trip, and I was still on the hunt for my ultimate souvenir - a tattoo. I try to commemorate my experience in every country I visit with a tattoo, and if possible, I like to get them done in those places before I leave. Ivan had a friend who worked at Santería Tattoo Shop in Quito, so we headed there from La Foch to see if anyone was available. Leon, who was from Colombia and had been tattooing in Ecuador for years, gave me the most beautiful rose - the national flower of Ecuador - to keep with me as a reminder of my love for this magical place.

We spent our last night in Ecuador partying through the clubs Mariscal Sucre is known for, hopping from bar to clubs. It was during this evening that I began to talk to Iris more, and we realized how strongly connected we felt to each other, like we had been friends for years already. To this day, Irina is one of my closest friends, my soul sister, and my confidante. It is this feeling, of finding people who seem to be born from the same soul, that makes life so incredibly beautiful.

8/7, Sunday: DAY 17: QUITO

The next morning, we headed to the Mercado Artesanal La Mariscal for souvenir shopping/haggling before checking out of Hotel Cuba Vieja, where the receptionist called a taxi to take us to the airport. It was the end of our adventure in Ecuador, but somehow, I knew I would return soon..