We said our "goodnights" and "sleeptights" and wondered out-loud the possibility of being murdered in our hostel room. It was a pact after all, so it would have to be a murder of the highest order. The sky was beginning to glow ever so faintly, and we decided that if we were to be murdered it would be best if we were in a deep slumber. So we set straight to the slumber.
A little after 5:15am, the most terrifying sound jerked me out of my "rock-like state." I had only experienced this terrifying sound once before when I was at a sleep-over in sixth grade at someone's house that literally backed onto the train track. The whole house shook. In this second instance, I believe that fear itself was shaken right out of me.
I quickly yanked back the poor description of a curtain just in time to see the wheels of a 757 aircraft directly overhead. The aircraft was so close, in fact, that I could see the individual grooves in the wheels. My first thoughts were "is this even legal?" "We are about to go down." "But I haven't been murdered yet, so there's a sure sign!"
Thrice more did this terrifying situation repeat itself. And thrice more did I exclaim, "Hey! there's a mountain!" I was out of bed around 6am, and down to the breakfast I climbed, the most 70-ish style of stairs I have ever seen. I clumsily busted through the kitchen door, staggered a moment holding the doorknob, and intently tried to process what my gaze had fixated itself upon, which was a pan of boiling milk on the stove. "For the kittens? I presumed."
A man suddenly appeared, "Cafe?" I asked
"Cafe con leche?" he asked.
Ah, "si, con leche," except I said "com leite."
My first Ecuadorian breakfast was fantastic. Cafe con leche, fresh fruit from the trees outside, a delightful fruit juice, and bread that I stuffed in my pockets for the road. More cafe con leche for me, and then I wandered over to the bookcase. Had no one been there, I would have helped myself to a few hundred of the incredibly old Spanish literature of the greats.
After I faced this sad reality, I found myself climbing out our bedroom window, hoisting myself up onto another odd concrete staircase, and awkwardly greeting a woman who was doing her laundry just above. After two hours of intense observation, I had a running commentary on all of the surrounding building rooftops. Apparently 8am was the time to hang out the laundry. I took my first "Penny" photo, and pondered what down below looked like, for I had only seen the rooftops.
I was absolutely giddy from excitement and the running total of four hours of sleep over the past 48 hours. After my fourth cup of coffee, I was beginning to wonder what was propelling the shaking. I decided that it was the altitude after all, and wandered off to find that several others had joined in the observation of "a morning in the life of surrounding rooftop happenings" display.
Rooftop #1
The Mountain, yes, the foot in between the staircase and window was a squeeze, especially after breakfast. Worth it.
The Penny
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