laguna quilotoa + the black sheep inn

the best compliment i received in ecuador? "you're a strong walker," from alfredo, our scrawny 16-year old quichua child-guide (i suspect he was more like 14 or so) from laguna quilotoa to the remote village of chugchilan. laguna quilotoa is radioactively beautiful -- deep green and glowing waters, rimmed at the shore with a line of electric yellow. i'm told that the lake can also be turquoise, cerulean, or a wine-y purplish-red, depending on the minerals prevalent at any given moment. its a dead lake, no fish whatsoever; though i wouldn't be surprised to see a pleiosaur, or nessie herself on holiday from loch ness, pop a prehistoric head out of the lake at any moment. it is also about 2.5 miles above sea level, and no joke to hike around, physical-exertion-wise.

and coming home to the black sheep inn after a grueling hike was such a reward. (as if experiencing the lake itself and the views of stark, windswept andean mountainsides were not reward enough.) black sheep is a phenomenal ecolodge close to chugchilan, complete with wood-burning stoves in the rooms, hot tub/sauna, gourmet meals, yoga and meditation studio, and resident flock of ovajes negros. but its the little touches, not just the grand gestures, that made me fall in love with the place. yeah, wood-burning stoves are great and all, but guess what? the only wood they use is eucalyptus, an invasive species, one that it is almost my civic duty to destroy in the name of personal warmth. the hot tub? totally heated with eucalyptus. the gourmet meals? all vegetarian. (a good thing, given that the meals were inhumanly delicious, and that seconds and thirds were happily provided.) o, and my new favorite dinner-table conversation topic: composting toilets. have you read "the toilet papers" by sim van der ryn? appropriately, this book was the, um, reading material in all of the bathrooms. so there´s this part in the book where the author is speculating as to what future -- as in, 2000 years in the future -- alien archaeologists would think about our urban plumbing systems. and he´s like, they would be like, ¨wow, this civilization was so brilliant, they figured out how to harvest ocean algae and protozoans, process them through a central system to render them more healthful and delicious, and pump free meals into the homes of all urban citizens, to be served in lovely ceramic bowls in beautiful tiled rooms!¨ ha! i literally laughed out loud at that part. seriously, though, i am so inspired by this book and by the unbelievable ease of making our waste work for something positive instead of being a disgusting afterthought. anyone who knows a lot about this, email me or something so we can talk about it. also, some of you might know that my mom is planning to start a bed and breakfast in upstate new york that caters to folk with big dogs (e.g., rottweilers) who want to get away from it all and bring the puppies with ... wouldn´t it be amazing if her place could take a page from the black sheep inn´s book? ... right mom?

so guess which of the pictures below is the view from my cabin, and which is the view from the composting toilet:

the best part is that it doesn´t really matter which is which. if you are in ecuador, come here. and stay here.