Somewhere Between Glitter and Gold

By Camila Moreno-Lizarazo

When I saw that I could write the first blog post that would be published when we returned to the states, I immediately signed up. I wanted every memory and every feeling fresh on my mind. I pictured myself pulling out my laptop in one of our many layovers and typing away, maybe with an Ecuadorian beer at my side pretending to enjoy its bitterness so onlooking travelers would be intrigued.

I thought I would be detailing the beauty of the island, my favorite locals that I can’t wait to see again, maybe even tell you about the tattoo I got on the last day.

Sleeping in the Airport

The reality was that instead of typing away, I slept. I slept on all four flights back, I slept on a coffee table in the Guayaquilairport, I even slept on the floor of the Quito airport. The only time I did not sleep was when I was too busy arguing with Miami TSA at 5 a.m. because they didn’t want to hand check my crappy film camera.

“Diego! We got a hand check!”

“What’s that gotta do with me, Sylvia?!”

After two straight days of traveling and 9 days of working as hard as I could, I felt beyond exhaustion, nearing closer to becoming delirious. Through the brain fog, I wanted to at least have an idea of what to write. The problem was that so much happened every day that picking one spectacular story was daunting. How do you summarize this trip into just one experience?

As my zombie-like classmates sat together enjoying the best-overpriced food the airport had to offer for the last time, I realized I didn’t have to write about the most awe-inspiring experience I had that week. Our social media, stories, website, and even our conversations will be detailed with our highlights for the rest of our lives. That’s just kinda the nature of storytelling, telling the dazzling bits and forgetting the rest. But that’s simply not the complete truth.

You probably saw us snorkeling, eating good food, and sharing laughs with sources, but you didn’t see the sunburns, the exhaustion, or the stress tears in between.

We all posed for group pictures and held each other tight, but you didn’t hear our late-night conversations wondering how we were gonna manage to do it all again tomorrow. Even our behind-the-scenes posts don’t show the stress of running from one shoot to the last-minute interview that we confirmed just a few minutes prior.

I don’t say all of this to be the Debbie-downer of this incredible experience but instead, because all of the unglamorous bits made it all the more memorable. In this class you start as 30 colleagues, you probably have one or two friends, and you make small talk before class starts. But you end up as people that truly bonded by one incredibly unique life-changing experience. Normal classmates don’t spend 10 days living in close quarters seeing each other at absolute bests, our absolute worsts, and our most disgustingly vulnerable. Sure, sharing drinks at the beach watching the sunset brought us closer together (I learned some fun things about my professor’s childhood I’ll ever forget), but those nights don’t even compare to the nights where we were sweaty, hungry, and tired but still managed to make each other laugh and hype each other up for tomorrow.