What should not be forgotten...: I'm not in Nebraska anymore

So... three weekends ago (I know, I'm behind... spare me) we went to a farm. If you know me, you know that I was basically raised on a farm. Fine... not true. But I did live next to a corn field, and I've spent some time on farms. Living is small-town Nebraska, you have a basic amount of farm knowledge. So, I think it's safe to say I was pretty much raised on a farm. Ok? Therefore, when I found out that we were visiting la finca (read as: the farm), I was excited for a little taste of home.

Just LOOK at how excited I am.

In hindsight, I know that it's a little unreasonable that I when I heard farm, I started thinking rolling hills, corn fields, tractors, and the lot. But that's exactly what I thought of. And it really wasn't until the van ride there that it dawned on me that I was about to visit a farm the likes of which I had never seen. La finca belongs to Rosa's (the director of our language school) parents. It's near a tiny town where she grew up, and the whole area is beautiful. Here's my proof:

When we arrived, we checked into our hostal and went directly to the river to swim. Swimming in rivers could easily become my jam. Afterward, we visited some of Rosa's family. We tried some delicious fruit called guaba. Guaba (pictured below) is a bizarre little fruit that looks and feels like a wet cotton ball, but tastes like heaven. Somewhere, someone has video of Rosa's brother-in-law and nephew climbing the thin, tall guaba trees and whacking down the fruit with sticks.

After a delightful helping of guaba, we visited Rosa's brother-in-law's fish farm. I think someone asked us, "Do you want to go fishing?" And I instantly became my father's daughter and said, "I can bait a hook." No. From what I can tell, when someone asks you if you want to go fishing in Ecuador, they mean to ask if you want to go to the fish farm where Rosa's brother-in-law will pull 20 fish out of a small pond with a net. It's a little less thrilling than fishing with a rod, not that fishing with a rod is thrilling, necessarily.

I made friends with this fish.

Later I ate my friend.

The next day we visited Rosa's parent's farm. It was quite a trek up a giant hill, but once we arrived we were rewarded with various different fruits that are grown there. We tried more guaba, cacao, oranges, lemons, and more. You see, in Nebraska, when you hear farm, you immediately think of some type of grain. Let me tell you, if I visited a farm in Nebraska and someone said, "Here, try this alfalfa." I'd kindly decline. HOWEVER, if you visit a farm in Ecuador and someone says, "Here, try this pineapple." Jackpot. Speaking of pineapple, did you know that they don't grow in trees? I did not, and I feel a little silly admitting that here, because I know that some people may choose to ridicule me for it. But I really didn't know, and I was shocked. If I've learned nothing else in Ecuador (and I'm not sure that I have), I've learned that pineapples grow near the ground.

Perhaps you're thinking to yourself, "That sure is a big knife that Rosa is using to cut that pineapple off the stem." And you're right. It's a machete, and that's basically all they use to harvest their crops on the farm. There aren't tractors. There are only machetes. Naturally, I needed to get in on that machete action... and Rosa actually let me.