The craving of the week: Well it was easy to know whats NOT the craving of the week....cui(guinea pig). Seriously though, let us introduce Atkins French Onion Soup! Make french onion soup and make sure to add lots of cheese on top. Equally as important as the soup, is the container in which it comes. The container is mostly imaginary and open to modification. If possible make a bowl out of 100% steak. If not, use a bread bowl and line the inside with steak.


As you can see, our weekend was packed with many lasting memories. Therefore Camden and I are going to only give a small description of each event to convey personal emotions.
First, there was guinea pig. After work we headed to a friends house hoping to participate in one of the country's oldest culinary traditions. The killing, preparing, and cooking you can observe in our pics and vids. After all the build up we sat down (4 gringos and 6 Ecuadorians) to eat half a cui each, lettuce, rice, potato, camote, and a peanut sauce with intestines and liver inside. The cui smelled strongly of the skin, a greasy odor mixed with a hint of the burnt hair (or maybe I was imagining it). My first problem was where to start. I ate a leg without too much trouble, but then i reached the spine and had to reconsider. There were no feet left because earlier (while cooking) the grandma pulled them off and handed them to us as treats... each time we accepted saying ¨gracias¨enthusiastically. The tonails and bones were, needless to say, difficult to swallow. The testicals (pictured above entering Camden´s mouth) were more chewy, but not much better. My favorite part, I discovered after much timid experimenting, was the face. Or atleast until I bit off too much and the piece of cheek in my teeth pulled with it the eyeball, surrounding cartilage, and a bit of brain.. and that is my experience eating the nation's favorite delicacy.

If you read Ben´s description and you watched the videos then you might be wondering why in the world we would ever do such a gross thing. The answer "we wanted to try something new" falls wildly short of the motivation necessary to put cui testical in your mouth. Saying when in Rome just doesn´t cut it. The true answer is one that my dad and I discussed before the trip; being polite. Every travelor has their fair share of gross things they have done in order to not offend their hosts, however, I would like to point out how rediculous being polite can be. First, rodent foot is all bones and is painful to actually consume. Second, eating an animal that in your home country would be named Pinky brings up ethical questions with every bite. Third, testicals are testicals and no matter what it tastes like thats always on your mind while you are eating them.

The weekend continued the next day with a five minute bus trip to Pampa. One of our friends had told us that there would be a bull fight and jokingly said we should participate. I was in no joking mood. Ben was intent on us jumping off a bridge the next day(I hate hieghts) and I wanted him to have feel some fear aswell. However, I miss interpreted bull fight and just thought we were going to be running down a crowded street with bulls behind us. In that senerio I just had to be faster than the next guy and I would surely make it out. Instead, there were just tons of people watching as the drunken crazy youth would go out and taunt the bull. The game boils down to one very large very pissed off bull and a few guys trying touch it or get as close to getting nailed as possible without actually getting hit. The main thought on my mind and on Ben´s face was 'shit'! Regardless, we were full of pure cane alcohol, adrinaline, and promises we had made to get in(we are from Oklahoma after all). So I got in next to one of the friends we had made. At this point it was still somewhat safe becasue the bull was on the other side and the fense was right next to me, but the bull kept getting closer and closer. It was time for me to run for the fense but my new ¨friend¨ran up behind me and pushed me right at the charging bull. Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!! I ran as fast as I could for the fense and ended up jumping almost on top of the new friend. Nothing hit me but I could hear the croud cheering loudly as they do when someone almost gets hit. We ended up getting much better and one round was even annouced as the extranjeros vs. the ecuatorianos. To most peoples surprise, including our friends, we won the round by actually touching the bull and good use of carpets(Ecuadorian version of the red capes they use in Spain). The next day some guys recognized us in the street as those ¨Yankee torreros.¨

In bullfighting the goal is literally to get close enough to the bull to make it think it can destroy you before you make it back to the fence, and then somehow make it back to the fence. Though I nearly peed my pants Camden and I got in and took on the bull in our own way. While one of us taunted the bull the other would sneak up behind in attempt to touch it. It sounds horrible being bait for such a large animal, but the exhiliration of working in a team and winning the round and the cheers of the crowd offset the fear.

Finally Sunday came and my adrenal glands were at it again. We headed down to the biggest bridge in Baños (200m high) to do the stupidest thing we could think of; jump off. Outfitted with pump up music and two harnesses, I had to wait nervously for what seemed like hours as the ropes were prepared. The jump off platform is literally three slats of wood hanging meekly over the edge. The guy prodded me to the top of the railing where I climbed out into strong gusts of wind. Every muscle in my body hated me. He told me to stand up and put my toes over the ledge (I began to hate him at this point). Each movement felt impossible, I get scared just thinking about it now. As you can see in the video you are forced to lift your arms and then he immideately counts down. All of this sucks but the worst part for me was that while I was falling there is just nothing to hold onto, your body gains a speed you haven´t felt in such a vulnerable position. Then, suddenly your excrutiating fall is cut short by a rope (NOT bungie), this rope is attatched to the harness, which puts all the stress directly on your balls. It was a very worthwhile second of utter fear, but I won't be jumping again anytime soon..

Below me there is 700 feet of nothingness and then jaged boulders and a rushing river. I´m wondering how I always end up in these situations. I hate hiehgts and have no greater fear, and yet, here I am holding onto the railing trying not to get blown over. The way I manage to get through this type of thing is by tricking myself into impossible situations. I know that if I just don´t think about it and have the guy strap me in and lead me up then I will end up past the point of no return. At this point, the shame of backing down would be too great to bear. So there I was standing on the little wooden ledge judging between what I thought was my certain death and getting down infront of a crowd. Luckily, I jumped and it was the most amazing exhilaration ever(other than the pain Ben described).