A moment of silence

On another note, please pray for the family and friends of Kate, a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin who was recently killed. She is in the thoughts and prayers of all of the Peace Corps volunteers around the world. She is remembered, even by the people who didn't know her.

We are a world wide family in the Peace Corps, and we should never have to mourn the loss of one our own.

Say it with me: Tungurahua!

I don’t see any comments, dears. I’m disappointed in you. But I love you anyway.

It’s raining, again. In fact, it’s been more or less continuously raining these past few weeks. However, where MY SITE IS it’s not supposed to rain as much. Actually, the weather is supposed to be rather lovely, warmer in the day than it is here (it’s about 600 meters lower, at an elevation of around 2, 450 meters) and cool at night. PLUS I’m the nearest volunteer to Ecuador’s most active volcano, though I’m not allowed to go to Banos, the city right under the volcano, because of it. I’ll probably use that face mask once or twice, though, for the ash.
Ready? Alright. I’ll be spending the next two years of my life in the province of Tungurahua, in a disperse community of about 100 people that I can’t name but is about 45 minutes south of Ambato, a nice big city where I can buy anything I need. According to Lonely Planet, I should be able to see the active volcano Tungurahua from my town. I’m in the Sierra, people! No big ol’ spiders or malaria medication for me.

I’ll be working with the Red Cross to help teach about nutrition and family gardens. I’ll also be (hopefully) helping to create an irrigation system, working with organic fertilizers, and maybe raising small animals such as cuy or chickens. It’s exactly what I want to do, and while it’s scary to be the first ever volunteer at my site, it’s nice to know that I have the Red Cross to work with and give me some stability and supervision.

Overall, I’m extremely happy, but nervous. Tomorrow I leave for my site visit, and I’ll meet up with my counterpart, a doctor who works for the Red Cross. I hope that they take me seriously, youth and blonde hair and bad Spanish included. I hope that this all goes smoothly, and this site turns out to be the right one for me. I’m ten times happier here than I ever was in Spain, and I hope that things keep going as they are, and that everything falls into place.

The days this past week have been pretty chill, except for my computer getting a virus that was causing it to crash and me spending hours at an internet café trying to download antivirus software (as mine conveniently decided to stop working.) I think (think) that everything’s ok now.

Last weekend I went with my friend Gloria to an indigenous sun celebration of the equinox in Cayambe. It was really such a unique experience. We (the crowd) were cleansed by the shaman by having water blown over us, smoke wafted on us, and a rose dipped in water pressed to our foreheads, like a blessing. It was ancient and spiritual and honestly, the kind of tradition and belief system that I love because of its roots and because of its thankfulness to this earth. It calls to our ancestors who worshipped the earth and sun and sky, whether they were shamans in South America or druids in England and Scotland, where I am from. There is a feeling of connection to the past that is just beautiful.

Yesterday the Ag group went back to a farm that we had been to once before, to learn about small animals. We learned how to castrate a cuy (not as bad as you’d think, though the cuy sure wasn’t happy about it), and how to vaccinate baby chickens with drops in their eyes. There are several great pictures of us chasing half-grown chickens, grabbing them, and holding them up to get the eye drops. Those little birds can run, especially when they were all outside and it started to rain (and hail, big ol’ serious hail), and we had to grab them and chuck them into the coop, which they kept trying to escape from. I swear, it was like The Great Escape, chicken style, though not like that weird claymation movie.

At the end of the day, one of the other girls, a facilitator, and I stayed behind to get some fresh produce from him. We stayed for over an hour, talking, eating fresh picked strawberries and getting some amazing lettuce, carrots, beets and beet greens (mmm), elderberry flowers for tea, and more. In the end, despite the fact that his organic farm usual charges more than the average supermarket produce, he tried to give it to us for free. It was a great feeling, this hard working man who struggles to find clients and expand his farm, to do the right thing by growing completely organically, to offer us this as a gift, especially in a country where you are told repeatedly how people will rob you or will charge you a much higher price for goods because you are white. We of course forced money on him, and probably more than the food was worth, but it was our way of saying, thank you for your time and talking us and being so generous.

Alright, I’m running out of time, and I still have to talk to my mommy via skype, post all my photos, finish packing, help cook dinner (with my fresh veggies, to add some kind of vegetables into the diet of my host family), and go over everything I have to have/know for tomorrow. It’s going to be a busy week.

Love to you all,

Sarah

Here, have a photo! That's me in the brown and the hat on the left, hoeing away, at one of the farms we visited. I stole this photo off of Rosa's camera.

I’m writing this in my room, with the rain pounding overhead in a soothing rhythm. It’s been raining a lot lately, so hard that in class yesterday that the sound was too loud to hear anyone speak. I like the rain, but the bad news is I washed some of my clothing four days ago and it’s still wet. Sopping wet. I don’t know how on earth anything dries around here.

So so SO much has been going on, I don’t even know where to begin.

Oh! I finally ate cuy (guinea pig) last night. I have a great photo of it, cooked head and all, but it’s on my camera and I still don’t have the stuff I need to get the photos off of it. It’s really good! I enjoyed it, though it was weird to gnaw on something that still looked like an animal, paws and all.

Last weekend we went on a “cultural trip” to Cotacachi, the “leather making capital of the world.” It has some beautiful stuff for very cheap, but being a Peace Corps Trainee I don’t really need a gorgeous leather bag or high boots. But I did buy a scarf and a big leather bracelet with a sun on it. I know, not exciting to read about, but I’m excited about it. And awe man, some neat stuff happened but I can’t really write about it, so call me. I have a phone now! Ask, amigas, and I’ll give the number.

Note: Go to callingcards.com and you can call me for very cheap. Think about it. I can’t call any of you, my phone doesn’t make international calls, but I can receive them for free.
While in Cotacachi, we visited the site of a volunteer, and her house was nice. I mean Peace Corps-nice, obviously, not normal-nice. She said that it’s an unusually nice house, cement floor, sagging roof, and outside bathroom included. Her garden was beautiful, and it made me excited to start my own.

While in Cotacachi I had a sore throat, which continued into Sunday, but I decided to go on a hike to some mythical hot springs anyway with the people from two different towns. I say mythical because we never found them. It was still a fantastic day, hiking through forests, across a large stream (where I fell in, soaking my sneakers and pants), and up a mountain. I mean UP A MOUNTAIN. All together we walked six and a half hours, and three and a half of those were straight up. The whole time this scrappy little dog named Lassie followed right by our sides. I was dead by the time we stopped; I’ve never exercised that hard in my life. We started at a point where we were sweating in t-shirts, and after 3.5 hours were above the clouds, to a point where it was freezing cold and I was bundled up in my winter hat. When we were up there, past any road or path, just in wilderness, the ground dropped away so sharply right beyond where we were walking into the clouds of a valley. Don’t worry, we were safe; it was mostly the beautiful illusion of loneliness up there, only a few minutes walk from farmer’s fields. Eventually we gave up on finding the hot springs and went back down again. It was AWESOME, even as I was gasping pathetically for breath. I love the people in my group; they cheered me on every step of the way.

Needless to say, my sore throat turned into an irritating, but not too terrible, cold that is still lingering. The continuous rain and cold isn’t helping much, either, and for several days after the hike my legs were very unhappy when walking.

This week we went to Rosa’s (our facilitator) house to cook Ecuadorian food. Mmm, empanadas with cheese and crispy chifles, and more. Cooking is such a bonding experience, everyone helping everyone else; everyone crowded together working with the smells of food and the sound of Spanish music hanging in the air. It was pretty damn impressive, and we all ate our fill. I had even haggled with the woman selling the bananas, and brought her price down over a dollar. Hell no, I’m not paying the gringa price! My Spanish is worlds better than it was three weeks ago.

That day was Saint Patty’s day, and after cooking our delicious food we all made our way back to Cayambe to meet with other trainees for some green beer.

The day before, in the same town, we had inadvertently caught an annual parade that the local elementary school was putting on to celebrate the creation of the school. Tons of little kids in elaborate costumes dancing, with music blaring out of speakers roped to the back of pick-up trucks. It was a total immersion into the culture, and I felt very privileged to be able to see such a thing that usually only the people in this small town in Ecuador get to see.

On a final note: Yesterday we played a quick game of “rock, paper, scissors” to get everyone’s energy level up after a long day of sitting. It was played with the 45 of us, and everyone had to play with someone, and whoever lost, the other person became their “fan”, cheering them on. If they had fans, once you beat them, their fans became yours. In the end there were only two of us left, so I had over twenty people behind me chanting “Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!” as I battle rock-paper-scissors to the death. I lost, but it was surprisingly thrilling, and a great boost of energy.

I find out my site in four days. I’m so excited I can’t even express it. Next time I post, I’ll know where I’m going to spend the next two years of my life. It’s a wonderful thought.

Now I open it to you, friends and family: How are you? What are you all up to during my absence? Tell me! I’m serious about this. You read, you tell. That’s the deal.

Love, Sarah

Mas! Mas!

More things happening!

-We have a garden! -----> That's me kneeling in the dirt. I stole the photo from Sarah's blog, as my camera still doesn't have the right parts...hopefully they will come in a week.

-When I was sick, my host mom rubbed an egg all over me and then had me spit on it three times. It's a shamanism thing, that the egg absorbs all of your bad energy. Apparently I got sick because I went to a graveyard on my first day and I was a stranger, so a bad spirit followed me home and made me sick. Sometimes they rub really sick people with a guinea pig and then kill it afterwards and rub its blood on the part of the body that hurts. You know, the wierd thing is, I did feel better afterwards, maybe it was the stimulation of the nerves.

-There have been two farm trips to learn about composting, the joys of shoveling manure, planting veggies, ect. At one, we watched a cuy(guinea pig) be killed...they crushed its little skull in, I couldn't watch. At the other we ate amazing lasagne and played with an adorable puppy.

- I went to the pool with my host family! It was at this beautiful place owned by my host dad's sister, with a nice pool, lots of mandarin, lemon, and lime trees, which we picked from, and a zip line high above the ground, which I rode. I almost got to ride a horse but they couldn't find the saddle. I'll post photos when I get my camera parts from home. We also drove by a huge lake and ate some strange fruit and fried bread.

-When we drive through the mountains, we are literally in the clouds sometimes. The ground just drops away beneath you. It's so, so beautiful.

-I learned how to wash my clothes on a big flat slab outside with cold water, rubbing it into the stone. It's seriously hard work, and it took me two hours to do a few articles of clothing. I've already ripped a pair of PJ pants doing it.

-We've been working a lot in our classes, and in less than two weeks we find out our sites. So much has been going on that I can't even remember it offhand. I've been filling up my journal at an alarming rate. Tomorrow we go on another field trip, so there will be more to write about.

Hasta luego!

What was happening a week and a half ago

Ready for the longest entry EVER?

I am writing this in my bed at my host family’s house, in my pajamas at 1:00 in the afternoon on Wednesday, a week after I arrived. As predicted, (and no one is less happy than me that this predication came true), I became horribly, disgustingly sick a few days ago, and haven’t left my bed since. Two days of missed classes when we already only have nine weeks…that’s what really brings me down.

But it’s nearly over now, and if it had to happen, at least it happened and is over with. Besides the days of vomiting, Ecuador has been amazing. I am honestly loving it here. I think I am a good fit for the Latin American mentality; they are very open, and generous with their affections, and I appreciate that, much more so than the “don’t look strangers in the eye or smile” mentality of PA.

Right now I am listening to the roosters crowing outside my window, and let me tell you, whoever said that roosters crow only in the morning was a horrible liar. They crow ALL DAY. Morning, afternoon, night, middle of the night. Earlier today I could hear the pigs squealing, not really so much a squeal but the twisted shriek of demented children. I’ve realized that I am slightly afraid of pigs, from their beady black eyes to their impressive size, horrible squeals, and the disturbing memory of Orwell’s “Animal Farm” popping into my head every time I see them. But I get ahead of myself. Let’s go back to the beginning.

The night I arrived in Quito it was lightly raining, warm and lush. On the bus ride to the hostel I sat with my head half out the open window in the rain, listening to the chatter of people around me, hardly able to believe that I am in Ecuador. I still can barely believe it.

Everyone is my group, Omnibus 101, is amazing. It’s a unique situation where you can look at a group of 45 people and there is not one person that you think is a jerk, or standoffish, or something disagreeable. But everyone seems very open and friendly, and just…good. Good people. The kind of people you would expect to join the Peace Corps, right?

When we arrived at the hostel there was a huge group of volunteers waiting, and they clapped and whooped and shook the bus, handing us roses as we disembarked, throwing flower petals into the air and singing some Peace Corps song that I have yet to learn. My rose had a strip of paper tied to it that said, “don’t worry, be happy!”

My days in Quito were fun: trying a different fruit juice every day, most of which I had never heard of (anyone who has been to Ecuador will tell you that tomate de arbol, aka tree tomato and not really a tomato, is the big thing here); drinking wine out of the box with the other trainees as we sat in the communal space of the hostel, a central villa-like area open to the stars, and played card games and laughed; going to Mitad el Mundo, the center of the earth, and standing on the equator line, the real equator line (as opposed to the fake one that everyone had been going to for years.) At Mitad el Mundo we also tried all of this fruit that I had never heard of, most with seedy, pulpy insides that were either sour or sweet like candy, and included a lemon that was the size of my head.

My community is about one hour as the bird flies from Quito, but driving time is actually more like two. I’m lucky in that it’s the community where everyone meets for technical training (which I haven’t been to yet because of being ill), so I don’t have to travel two days a week like many people do. Some have to ride on a bus for forty minutes each way! I don’t know if I am allowed to say the name of my community; in fact as of this moment I still have to clear this journal before I can post this entry, but it’s near Cayambe. In fact, during my first two days here I went to Cayambe three times with my host family.

My experience in my community began with a funeral. My host mother’s brother had just died, so I was dropped off at the house and had about five minutes before I was whisked away to the church for the tail end of the ceremony; then to the cemetery, where my host mother cried and I awkwardly patted her back, feeling far too tall and white to be standing with this community during their time of mourning; then to a communal area where I helped pass out soup and later plates of food that everyone ate with their hands. I did too, without even washing them first! (gasp!) I’m changing already. I must have looked so strange, this tall blonde gringa passing out food to over a hundred people after a funeral.

Honestly, I stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone here is beautiful, most of the time shorter than I am by about a head, slim with beautiful dark mestizo skin, black hair, and a certain proud, ancient curve to their faces. There are many indigenous in the community too, who wear their calf length skirts with knee socks, flat shoes, shining jewelry and small hats with a feather sticking out of the top. Sometimes there is a baby strapped with a loop of material around their backs, and their hair is long, often braided. They have the strong noses of royalty.

My host family is wonderful. It is a mother and a father and a two-year-old son who can say only Mami, Papi, agua, and moooo (to the skinny cows that linger on the sides of the streets along with the stray dogs). My host mom is amazing, taking care of me when I was sick, even spoon feeding me soup when I could barely eat, and being wonderful even when I accidentally dropped and broke a cup in a half-delirious stupor.

Across a small park lives the rest of the family, where they spend half of their time: grandparents, nieces and nephews, and more. I’m not sure how many actually live in that house or just spend a lot of time there. The grandmother (and pretty much everyone else) keeps trying to push food on me, saying that I need to be más gordita. Putting on weight is a good thing here, it means that you are comfortable and happy, but I still don’t want the “Peace Corps 20” to happen to me. I’m just pleased that they don’t already think that I am gorda.

There are two little girls, one ten and one five, who are just adorable. The ten year old is pretty shy and doesn’t say much, but the five year old prances around me like I am her favorite toy and constantly wants to play a game where I pretend that I can’t find her even though she is standing right behind me. No one in the family speaks any English. I get along, barely, though I’m realizing that my Spanish is a lot worse than I thought it was.

The family works regular jobs but also has a business that makes cheese, yogurt, and raises pigs for slaughter. On my first night here we went to feed the pigs…damn those beady black eyes! They looked like they would eat me if they could.

My host family also has a truck, which not everyone has, so quite often they pile far more people into it than were ever meant to fit and drive them somewhere: across town, or to Cayambe. There is such a sense of community here, everyone helping everyone else, whole families walking with their arms around each other, young lovers embracing openly in the supermarket, children everywhere, more kids than I have ever seen.

And I didn’t even mention how high we are! I’ve never been to such a high elevation. My first night in Quito I could barely sleep due to a strange pressure in my sinuses that felt like it was trying to pop my eyes out of my head, and even now I feel exhausted after walking just a little uphill. I try to breathe in deep but I still don’t feel like I’m getting enough oxygen. We are high enough that even on the equator I sleep sometimes with long underwear under pajama pants, and two sweaters. During the day the temperature can change from hot to pretty damn freezing depending on whether or not the sun is out. I’ve been loading up on sun block like a crazy person, even on cloudy days, the result being that after a full day out I was one of the only ones in the group not burned.

The Cayambe volcano rises over the town, only visible from certain areas, huge and covered with snow; my mouth literally dropped when I first saw it. Despite being high in the mountains, we are still surrounded by more mountains on every side, and the light in the afternoon is different here, whiter and more shining, and to borrow a phrase from Lost, like it scatters differently. The sky seems close enough to touch; at times this is almost disconcerting, like you’ve stepping into one of those paintings of God opening up the heavens.

Aw, I just tried to be serious about it, but after writing those words all I can see is that scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. “Stop groveling!” “Yes, my Lord.”

I’ve been writing for an hour. It’s easy to write embarrassingly long entries when you are sick and can’t sleep. If you’ve gotten this far, congratulations.

So I guess it’s time to say goodbye for now. I still feel pretty sick, but at least I don’t feel like I am going to vomit again. I don’t know what else I will do today; probably sleep, maybe watch some more Battlestar Galactica on my laptop. (I’ve turned into one of those people who says Frak! all the time, though only when I’m alone.)

I’ve only been in Ecuador for one week and already it’s had this much influence on me. I’m feeling the beginning of a love affair with this country. I can’t wait to have classes, find out my final site, swear in as a real volunteer, and start farming. I hope that this feeling I have about the next two years is right. I pray that it is.

I miss you all, my wonderful family and friends. I appreciate you more than ever. You are my happiness, and damned if I don’t love you with every fiber of my being. Being far away doesn’t change that; nothing ever will.

-Wednesday, March 4, 2009.