{weekend clothesline} Far Across the Distance

Joe and I in El Ejido, the main public park in Quito, Ecuador

Okay, folks, we're a go for the epic Ecuador post I've been promising. I've found that it's been nearly impossible for me to synthesize my actual thoughts about the trip, so I'm starting with a bit of a slideshow-style post, with more pictures and less words. After things settle down a bit more, I hope to be able to put words into my currently vague and scattered feelings about my summer vacation.

Most of these pictures were actually taken by Joe and/or his advisor. We didn't bring my nice DSLR, for fear of damage or theft, so these are mostly all snapped with a cheap point-and-shoot that Joe bought after his original camera did get stolen. Some of these were also actually taken before I arrived, but they are all sights that I saw and places that I went; we just decided it was pointless to re-take pictures that Joe already had. Also, we were epically bad at actually taking pictures of us. The one above is the only usable photo of both of us. Long story short, there was no taking of outfit photos on this trip. And I was just fine with that.

Anyway, enjoy!

Top to bottom: views of Cuenca, Ecuador from some Incan ruins just outside the city; tile rooftops in Cuenca and a strange bird statue that I quite admired; the massive "new" cathedral in Cuenca, which also happened to be one of the views out of our hostel.

We took an extremely long bus ride from Cuenca to Quito about halfway through the trip. Since both are in the high sierra area of the Andes, the bus ride involved many a winding S-curve road (and therefore, much Dramamine for me), and breathtakingly beautiful views of the region. Remember what I said before about the high altitude being cleansing and mind-clearing? Yeah, that's what this is like. Whole towns (albeit tiny ones) are nestled in the highlands at 13,000 feet, and the harshness of the climate and landscape only makes for an even more surreal experience when passing through from the inside of an over-crowded bus.

Here's where we digress from my and Joe's experiences. I didn't actually make it up to the Quilotoa crater lake, though I was witness to two massive and absolutely picturesque volcanoes as we ventured through the country, Cotopaxi and Chimborazo. Joe took these pictures of the crater lake and its surrounding tourist area earlier in his trip, but I couldn't help but share them with you anyway. To me, they are positively breathtaking, and I can't wait to go back to Ecuador and see it for myself.

Quinoa! As I've mentioned before, I've spent a lot of time in South America, particularly Bolivia, and have been well-aware of the origins and traditions of this favorite grain of mine. But up until this trip, I'd never seen it growing. Unlike wheat, or rice, or, truly, any other simple grain I've seen, quinoa fields are beautiful, colorful, vibrant plots of land, a veritable rainbow of food. Harvesting happens after all the plants have reached a certain color, and up until then, the fields are a striking contrast against their highland backdrop. (The last picture above is actually of lupin, which there was also plenty of.)

I also had no idea what quinoa looked like up close. Incredible. I'm still sort of in the dark on how it is harvested, but seeing the plants in person totally changed how I feel about this tasty little grain. I wonder if we can grow it in the garden next year... (Also, an interesting side note: not once, in my 12 days or Joe's 52 days, did either of us get the chance to actually eat quinoa. I know it's mostly a home-cooking staple, but I was amazed to find that not one of the traditional Ecuadorian restaurants that either of us went to had it on the menu.)

Top to bottom: views of Quito, the capitol of Ecuador, from a vantage point just above the city; me in the plaza of San Francisco; one of the many gorgeous churches in the colonial architectural style. Most of the buildings in the old parts of both Cuenca and Quito were dominated by this kind of architecture. In the U.S., we're used to "old" meaning late 1800s (or, in some parts of the Northeast, late 1700s), but in huge parts of Latin America, "old" buildings truly date back to the late 1500s or early 1600s. Some of these are buildings that were constructed just after the end of the conquest, and have as varied and fascinating a history as any of the greats in Europe.

One of my favorite things about visiting a new place is the art, signage, and graffiti that sprinkles the area. I love it when bloggers do full posts dedicated to the street art in a particular city, and although we didn't get enough pictures to warrant a whole post, these are a few of the images that were particularly compelling to me. (The painting in the second-to-last photo was in the museum in Cuenca. I loved how it chronicles the life of man.)

The basilica in Quito, literally towering over the city.

Title song: Celine Dion, "My Heart Will Go On" (You guys. We were in an archeological museum in Cuenca, looking at pots and sculptures that were thousands of years old, and suddenly, with no notice at all, an instrumental version of "My heart will go on" blasted from the speakers in the museum. Instrumental. Played entirely with pan-pipes (to keep with the Andean theme?). Followed by a stirring rendition of "Stairway to Heaven" and "Bridge Over Troubled Waters". It was truly, and utterly, fantastic.)

{outfit} More Lightnin' Bugs than Stars in the Sky

Blouse: UO * Jeans: H&M * Booties: UO * Necklace: heirloom from my grandmother * Belt: thrifted

I think I'm experiencing reverse culture shock. In all my travels, in all my life (and I've been incredibly fortunate to have many of them...travels, that is, not lives...), I've never really experienced culture shock. My arrival in a place is usually consumed with curiosity and exploration (and sometimes jet-lag). Instead, the moment that my world-view gets all wonky is when I finally get home, back into the good ol' US of A. That's when my rhythm gets thrown off, when I start noticing ridiculous cultural idiosyncrasies, and when I start feeling uncomfortable in my own space. All that to say that I sort of feel like I still have one foot in South America and one foot in the Midwest, which means I'm not quite mentally up to the task of documenting our trip to Ecuador yet. I'm definitely planning to tackle it this week, but in the meantime I'm going to happily use a few old backlogged pictures as a crutch for my inability to switch completely out of Spanish mode.

And I'm actually quite happy to finally post these pictures. This was a simple weekend outfit earlier this summer, one which I wore to run errands, do laundry, make dinner, and other simple, straightforward weekend tasks. I fell in love with the combo when I wore it, and then just swooned over the early evening light that graced the street in front of Joe's apartment. It was one of those ideal photo moments that you don't always get to capture, so I was thrilled that we were able to preserve those precious last few moments of the day.

I've been all about comfort and ease this summer, and feel a bit of a change in the sartorial winds. My summer uniform, though I've been consistently failing to document it, has been a faithful pattern of jean shorts, oxford or bankers blouses, and Sperry Topsiders. Casual cool is winning the day, and I've been immersing myself in comfortable tomboy-esque style, eschewing wrinkle-free skirts and heavy accessories in favor of rolled-up sleeves and frayed hems. This outfit falls somewhere in the middle, which is maybe why it is a fast favorite. I felt totally comfortable and simply summery, but appreciated the clean lines and simple jewelry of this somewhat-polished ensemble.

Title song: Gillian Welch, "Summer Evening"

{gardening} Warm as a July Tomato

Yesterday's harvest from the garden (note: this does not include half a dozen heirloom tomatoes, plus the dozens and dozens that went into cans)

I don't mean to brag (okay, maybe I do), but our garden is killing it. We've already harvested more carrots, beets, swiss chard, and zucchinis than we typically eat in an entire year. My boss, family, and friends have all been receiving weekly gifts of produce, and I've spent many a weekend making pickled beets and zucchini, as well as cooking up loaf after loaf of carrot beet bread. It means that I don't really leave the kitchen over the weekend (and if I do, it's just to head to the garden to harvest more goodies), but I'm happy in my role of cook, canner, creative-use-thinker, and co-head gardener.

Heirlooms are the future, people (also, check out the rad tablecloth we got in Ecuador!)

Joe and I are both back from Ecuador now (I'm really looking forward to spending some of this week catching up with the multitude of blog posts I've missed out on, and crafting a few of my own as I get back into the swing of things), and we spent this past weekend dealing with the many dozens of ripe red tomatoes that greeted us when we got home. In addition to lots of tender and delicious heirlooms with nearly-purple flesh so incredibly good that it's all we can do to not brag to everyone we see about how tasty they are, we harvested enough beefsteak tomatoes this weekend to fill fourteen pint jars. So that's precisely what I did.*

The first step is to parboil the whole tomatoes, peel them, and then dice them into the desired size. I was pretty liberal with the chopping, just making sure that they were small enough to fit into jars. I'm all for chunks of tasty tomato flesh. Then the tomatoes are quickly heated to boiling in their own juices (it's important not to add any additional water here, as the tomatoes will lose some flavor. Trust me, they definitely have sufficient juice to not scald). I did this while the water for the canning hot water bath was heating on another burner. (Note: it is highly beneficial to enjoy a tasty brew during this step. Peeling and chopping this many tomatoes is hard work!)

Now, while the water heats and the tomatoes cook, let's talk about tools. My first and most important canning-related purchase this year was a giant coated aluminum stockpot (the blue one on the left). It very much reminds me of the pot in which Yosemite Sam tries to cook Bugs Bunny (if you, like me, were raised with old-school, and sometimes shockingly inappropriate, Looney Tunes cartoons, do yourself a favor and watch that video). Long story short, it's big (that's what she said). Anyway, I also have a series of little canning helpers that make some of the steps loads easier. My favorite is the jar-grabber-thing, which saves my hands from boiling hot water while I load jars in and out of the pot. There's also a funnel for reduced tomato spillage, a neat little bubble-eliminator thing and a magnetic wand for pulling sterilized lids out of their pot of boiling water (if you haven't figured it out yet, there's a lot of boiling water in the canning process).

Since I don't have a pressure canner, I do all of my canning in a boiling water bath. This means that in order to avoid botulism (note: you do want to avoid botulism), certain fruits and vegetables need added acid to keep them safe. I use citric acid, a bit in each jar, for diced tomatoes. After loading the diced and hot vegetables into the jars, I placed them in the boiling stockpot for 35 minutes and then carefully removed them and let them cool. (Another note: in my opinion, there may not be anything more beautiful than a series of jars, freshly filled with homegrown tomatoes.)

Once the tomatoes had cooled completely (this takes between 12-24 hours, so if you're doing this, be patient!), I checked the seals on each jar and labeled each jar with the date of canning. Happily, none of my seals broke this time, but if they had, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Broken-seal jars just need to be eaten within about 10 days (not so bad, if you ask me). Jars with good seals should last about a year.

*Final note: If you are planning to can tomatoes, make pickles, etc., please find a good reference book for instructions and recipes. I hope this post is informative and useful, but since we're dealing with preserving food for a year, please be sure to follow instructions from a book to a T. I use Back to Basics: Traditional Kitchen Wisdom and Putting Food By, alternately, when I'm canning.

Pickling and canning is not a fast process, and it's not a process in which you can really cut corners. When canning food, everything has to be immaculately clean, and each specific step has to be followed pretty faithfully. But, there's something totally satisfying, and a little bit zen, about spending all day meticulously filling jars, measuring tomatoes, and testing seals. And the final product, that is, good, homegrown food that will last into the cold months when the garden is no longer producing, is well worth the trouble. Happy canning!

Title song: Greg Brown, "Canned Goods"

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So I'm looking to make a Bent Objects game app

Back in 2007 or so, I wrote here on my blog that I was looking for a literary agent or publisher to help me make a Bent Objects book a reality, and to make a long story very short, it was a crazy idea that worked out very well.

Now I'm looking for someone with experience with computer animation and apps to team up with me and make a Bent Objects app. I have all the copyrighted characters and what I think are some good ideas, so if you have some experience in both of those areas, please contact me here.  Or if you know someone who could help, please forward this info to them, would you please?

Cautious Carrot

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Also-
Bent Objects; The Twists and Turns of Love is now available for pre-order! Here!