Recipes from Abroad // Learning Where Chocolate Comes From in Mindo, Ecuador

Quality chocolate is hard to come by in Ecuador. The good stuff may be grown inside the country's borders, but Ecuadorians rarely get a taste—most of it is saved to be exported. In all honesty, it is pretty safe to say that most baked goods in Ecuador are not on par with my expectations from back home in the U.S. The cookies are too crumbly and the cakes fall a little flat.

I don't mean to knock Ecuadorian bakers. There's a real reason why the treats are mediocre. That familiar yellow box with the arm and the hammer? You just won't find it on shelves here. Baking soda is a controlled substance that can only be purchased from a pharmacy in small quantities.

Needless to say, after living in Ecuador's capital city, Quito, for several months, I was definitely craving sweets. When my friend mentioned there was a “Chocolate Tour” that we could take on our mini-vacation to Mindo, I had my fingers crossed that my $3 would buy some quality baked goods. As it turns out, El Quetzal makes some deliciously rich and smooth chocolate that fully satisfied my cravings—and everything is grown and made right in Mindo.

Mindo Chocolate Tour - The BE

This is where it all begins. Who knew?

Mindo Chocolate Tour: beans

The “pods,” the “nibs,” and the beans. The slimy outside of the pods tasted melon-y.

Mindo Chocolate Tour: Fermentation

The pods get taken here to ferment in boxes.

Coffee Drying

Next we went to the drying tent.

Dried chiles.

El Quetzal was drying chiles for some spicy chocolate experimentation.

Mindo Chocolate Cocoa Goo

Next the beans are roasted. Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture—I think at this point I was mainly concerned with eating the chocolate. Which means I took a rather generous sample of this cocoa-goo that tasted awfully bitter without any sugar added.

Ecuador chocolate bars

A whole bunch of other stuff happens, and then voila! Chocolate bars. (Hey, I can’t give away all their secrets)

At the conclusion of the tour, you get to nibble on a brownie and then choose either a scoop of homemade ice cream or a hot chocolate to enjoy. Did I mention an Ecuadorian specialty is to melt cheese into hot chocolate? I will spare you the details of my stringy hot chocolate misadventure, but I would like to say that the chocolate tour in Mindo is well worth your money. If you’re like my friends and me, you’ll probably go back the next day to buy more brownies to snack on during the bus ride home. And to hoard for breakfast throughout the next week.

Scout Adventure #9 // Lost in Translation Over Ecuador's Cloud Forest

I was really, really, really apprehensive about going zip lining. Let’s just say my fear of heights combined with a perceived lack of safety concerns in Ecuador did not exactly have me rushing to propel myself across the jungle on a steel cable. I even skipped out on zip lining on an earlier trip to Mindo — a misty, mountainous jungle town set in what's known as the "cloud forest" — but the second time around I had no excuse. So up I went. After we paid our $10 and got suited up (hellooo man crotch and helmet hair!), my friends and I were shuffled onto a platform along with an Ecuadorian family. As we stared down on the forest canopy, our group was given the lowdown by one of the zip line guides. The only problem was, he was giving his safety spiel in Spanish, a language my friends and I only have basic knowledge of. As he relayed what seemed like very important information my friends and I exchanged more than the occasional nervous glance. This was well beyond my ability to translate menus or stumble through giving directions; based on the Ecuadorian family's intense listening and nodding, I could tell he was advising us on what to do and what absolutely not to do. But what,  exactly, the latter was — well, I could not comprehend  that for the life of me.

Fortunate for us, at the end of his speech he did say one word I know: “preguntas?” (in English, that's "questions?"). Nervously, I spit out “Sí, hablas inglés?” (Yes, do you speak English?). I'm pretty sure my voice even cracked a bit. The guide and the Ecuadorian family we were about to defy death with erupted in laughter. Mercifully, the guide ended up knowing enough English to direct us on how to save ourselves from an untimely demise — or at the very least, getting stuck hanging in the middle of a line high above the forest canopy. Before I knew it, we were laughing and joking and the sassy Ecuadorian mom was proclaiming “I’m 50 and this is my first time zip lining!” Well, if she can do it, I guess I can give it a shot.

mindo-ecuador-zipline-cloud-forest

One-by-one I watched Sassy Mom, her husband and two sons, and finally my friends take turns zip lining across the forest. The zip line was so lengthy that by the time each one of them got to the other side, I couldn't even see them anymore. As the last one left standing on the platform, my nerves had built up and I was secretly happy when the guide offered to travel across with me. I attached my caliper to his and braced myself for the ride, but before taking off he asked me (in Spanglish) something about doing an “activity.” Already feeling a little embarrassed by my obvious lack of Spanish, I shrugged my shoulders and agreed. “OK, MARIPOSA!” he demanded and within a millisecond I was flying across the forest doing the “butterfly,” a move that had me spread eagle, upside-down. And screaming my head off. Perhaps crying a little bit.

Having accomplished the most action-packed zip lining pose on my first run, the rest of the 13 lines were a cinch. Sometimes I went solo, sometimes we doubled up, and sometimes the guides pulled the lines up and down to make us bounce across the forest. OK, that last part was kind of terrifying, but I did manage to relax enough to actually take in the views of the forest from above. By the end I was sad our zip lining adventure was over, and I think I may have been married off to one of Sassy Mom’s sons. Looks like it's time to brush up on my Spanish for real.

mindo-ecuador-zipline-group

Photos by Scarlett Clementine Dawn, or at least taken with her camera.

Scout Adventure #8 // Finding Guatemala's Next Big Attraction

If guidebook writers even bother to mention Guatemala's Semuc Champey, they rarely offer more than a teaser. The cascading pools of turquoise and emerald are often looked over in favor of the many other places worth venturing on the Guatemalan map, among them the ruins of Tikal, the colonial city of Antigua and the volcano-ringed Lake Atitlán. I should know: I was an editor of one of those guidebooks. After reading the short description of Semuc Champey over (and over... and over...) something about it aroused my curiosity. So when I embarked on a 10-day trip from Guatemala City to Belize City, I made sure Semuc Champey was on the itinerary – even if it was a little out of the way. Now that I've been there and back, I can tell you it was well worth the extra effort and the few extra bumps in the road.

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The Road to Somewhere

Although it was technically in the opposite direction of our route, we had taken a short sojourn to Lake Atitlán for a night. That meant in order to get to Lanquín, the small town that acts as a jumping-off point for Semuc Champey, we would have to spend nearly an entire day in the car.

After backtracking through the smoggy Guatemalan capital where we had landed a few days prior, our car endlessly wound up and up through the mountains. The trip would have likely taken half as long if we weren't forced to slow down every few hundred yards to drive over speed bumps, many of which seemed manmade by local villagers in order to force cars not to be so lead-footed when passing through. Just after dusk we passed through Cobán, the capital of the Alta Verapaz department, one of 22 departments that make up the country – similar to states or provinces.

By that time it was dark – and raining – making the trip seem even more treacherous. As the city lights disappeared behind us, a thick layer of fog surrounded us ahead. In this part of Guatemala, a fine-misted rain falls from the sky constantly during the rainy season. Locals call it "chipi chipi." It seems as though everyone is quite used to the continuous rainfall; many people were walking and riding bikes along the side of the road. As someone unfamiliar with what lay beyond the pavement, my mind couldn't help but wonder where the people our headlights shined on lived and how often they had to make this trek during a downpour. Our driver, for one, seemed unfazed.

The roads remained paved until about six miles before you reach Lanquín, when cars and buses take, quite literally, a downward spiral on a rocky road into the jungle. It's bumpy and overgrown, making the pesky speed bumps we had to travel over to get to this point seem like child's play. As we bounced down the road, I couldn't help but think this place would make the perfect setting for a horror movie.

We made it to the tiny town of Lanquín and some locals helped direct us to our hostel, Zephyr Lodge. We checked in just as the nightly party hit its crescendo. For better or for worse we joined in, knowing that we had to get up bright and early to stay on schedule and get to Semuc Champey.

The next morning things started off a little rocky. It seemed our travels weren't quite over: we still needed to spend a half hour standing with a bunch of other hostel-goers in the back of a pickup truck as it climbed at near-impossible angles up dirt roads to Semuc Champey National Park. Before we set off, our tour guide made a pit stop in town to get candles, an important part of the first adventure at this park – exploring a cave by candlelight.

semuc-champey-cave

Through the Cave

Not long ago I had "explored" Luray Caverns in Virginia, where visitors walk on manmade pathways through several well-lit chambers. I knew the cave near Semuc Champey would probably not be such an easygoing, accessible experience, but I wasn't expecting the serious challenge that lay ahead.

Outside of the entrance to the cave, our guide instructed us to strip to our skivvies and leave our cameras behind, as we would be climbing and swimming through multiple underground chambers. The guide, who wore a headlamp and board shorts, didn't say much else, but handed us each a lit candle as we entered the cave.

We were the first group to walk into the cave that morning. As we entered the first chamber, a few bats took the opportunity to leave, flapping their wings over our heads. As I watched the entrance to the cave disappear behind us, it became clear that the candles would be the only thing keeping us from being enveloped in total darkness.

What started as an easy hike through the cave soon turned into some difficult maneuvering. Not only did we scale walls and climb up and over waterfalls, but at some points we needed to hold our candle above our head with one arm and use the other to swim through dark waters where our feet no longer touched the ground.

We moved through the cave until reaching a waterfall that some daring people climbed and jumped off of. Our guide took a final leap into the water, and to our surprise, didn't surface. At first some of us giggled, but after awhile we started looking at each other nervously. Was he just playing a joke? If he was, how long could he possibly stay under water? Just as someone stepped forward to jump into the dark pool of water to rescue him, we heard a scream behind us. It was our guide, who seemingly knew about some sort of underground tunnel and played this joke whenever he took visitors on tours. I was relieved, but as we turned back I felt a little daunted at the prospect of going back through the cave – which seemed more like an obstacle course.

In the end, I was happy our guide had not briefed us on any further details before we entered the cave. Otherwise, I probably would have let all the others go ahead while I waited outside. Instead, the group mentality pushed me to continue no matter how challenging the task or how claustrophobic I felt. And let me tell you: finally seeing the outside light filter through the cave was a great feeling. It had only been a little over an hour, but it seemed like we had been underground for much longer. Little did I know, this was only the first obstacle we would face.

semuc champey

Finally: Semuc Champey

So what is Semuc Champey, exactly? It takes a steep climb to a lookout to find out. Our guide (smartly) told us to follow the path up, enjoy our lunch at the lookout, and then meet him at the bottom. A few minutes into the climb – which, by the way, is labeled "difficult" on a signpost – we were out or breath and cursing his name. But we forged ahead until finally reaching a wooden overhang on the side of a mountain.

From the edge, you could see it: a river cuts through a dense forest, but instead of running water there is a 300-meter-long limestone overpass made up of a series of pools. These baths are filled with runoff from the Río Cahabón, and many are connected to one another by small waterfalls. The river here flows under the limestone bridge and emerges downstream.

We ate our lunches in silence, staring blankly at the beauty in front of us. After we climbed back down (this time, there were stairs!), we reached the placid pools of cool water. The day's challenges were well worth the reward, and we spent the next few hours splashing around in the cool, clear waters. Our guide showed us some spots where waterfalls formed natural slides, and also some great jumping-off points. It was kind of like a water park, except minus the crowds and concrete. When it came time to leave, none of us wanted to stop enjoying the sunshine – but our stomachs were grumbling and our ride was leaving, so off we went.

semuc-champey-guatemala-waterfalls

Although it is far from being overrun with tourists, I should note that travelers do go to Semuc Champey. Usually the ones who are moving slowly, spreading their experience out over weeks or even months and saving money by renting beds at hostels. They are also usually in good health, and are more than willing to climb the grueling 20-minute hike and go caving by candlelight. Of course, these are just generalizations – but they also give clues as to why Semuc Champey has remained more remote than other destinations throughout the country.

Photo credits: top photo by Kacy McAllister; additional photos by Libby Zay.