Yesterday I went with Alberto and Amanda to Papallacta, a small town an hour and a half from Quito that supplies all potable water. We went to Termas de Papallacta, the local hot springs, to swim in the morning (we left before 6:30a). After a morning of swimming, relaxation, and almost fainting twice, we went to lunch at Don Wilson's where we had an enormous meal of chicken soup, boiled potatoes, rice and veggies, fried trout, and cheesecake with naranjilla juice. On the way back to Quito we stopped at a roadside stand for some cheese and asked for directions to a trout farm. Well, we found exactly what we sought...

Completely legitimate

Please take another look at the sign. It says 100m. It does not mention the 80 degree slope nor the plank and cable bridge over a ravine.

Alberto and Amanda crossing the ravine

Surprisingly we made it. A dry, biting wind blew across the pools of trout once we arrived. A middle-aged man wearing a wool cap and yellow rubber boots let us through the gate so we could pick our fish. We settled on ten eight-month-old trout and the man waded into a pool with a net to pick them out. His wife helped him out. She was also dressed entirely in wool. Smart.

Once all ten trout were in a plastic milk crate the couple took them down to a nearby stream. I knew at this point that they would be killing the fish because, well, that's what is to be done with fish. The woman drew a knife from her pocket and I stood by to watch her decapitate the fish. That would be just too easy. Instead, the man pulled out a length of PVC pipe to bludgeon the fish (which, by the way, doesn't work). The couple subsequently began slicing and gutting the fish, feeding the entrails to their two dogs. They rinsed the fish in the stream and, surprise, the fish still won't die. Even out in the air, on the ground, without the majority of their organs and after a firm blow to the head, these fish won't die. Fresh fish, indeed.

Sensible shoes are necessary for crossing ravines and navigating trout ponds

Last night, Santiago drove the carpool. This meant we found our way to somebody's house for a birthday party, Tokyo-drifted all the way to Parque La Carolina, wound up next to a different park waiting for a salsa club to open, scrapped that idea, hopped in a cab, showed up at a pirate party in La Zona, walked around, ended up in a rave, then finished the night on a rooftop patio before grabbing another taxi and heading home. Now there's the issue of actual work to be done, including an essay and track-specific reading for tomorrow when we split into our concentration groups.