Sarah’s Ecuador Lesson #1: Yes You Can fit all of your cash, your credit card, your phone, and your ipod in your bra. It´s safer. And not at all awkward. Except when digging for cash.
Today at the feria I hefted the largest and heaviest zucchini I’ve ever seen in my hand and the first thought that popped into my head was: “I could kill a man with this zucchini.”
Maybe that’s a reflection on my mental state as of late.
I’ve been…not terrible, but surely slipping down the U-Curve, in the typical time of culture shock and adjustment and loneliness and homesickness. I know that it will pass, and I believe that I’m doing better than many would in my situation, in part because Spain toughened me up a lot, but it’s been stressful as of late. I got sick, again; it’s 5.5 months until I go home for Christmas and I miss my mom constantly; my community drives me crazy sometimes; local children harass me constantly to the point of literally screaming; and even those kids that I thought I was bonding with ended up stealing from me. I’d say that now I don’t trust them as far as I could throw them, but I could probably throw them pretty far, so I’m just going to flat out say it: I don’t trust them. I don’t trust anybody in my community. I feel so conspicuous, and when I try and organize something to help them, to do my job, nobody shows up. Plus, school is out for the summer so there goes over 50% of my work, and that also means more kids to pester me all day long. It’s just frustrating, and overwhelming, and I think, what can I really do to help these people? Can they really change? Do they really want to?
These are questions I know that almost every Peace Corps volunteer asks themselves at least once during their two years. I know that it is normal, and that it will pass; that I am experiencing culture shock and adjusting to a new way of life. But knowing this doesn’t make it any less hard.
Besides that, life has been a mixed bag. I had a fantastic time in Rio Bamba for my birthday, where we had pizza and beer on the floor one night and went out to bars and restaurants the next, and when the clock hit midnight and it was officially my birthday everyone sang to me and the waiter put a hat on my head and gave me free chocolate cake. Then that night, back in Patate with this wonderful family whose house I am writing this in right now, I had a home-baked cake with a candle and they sang to me in both Spanish and English. They are my saving grace here; I don’t know what I’d do without them.
Yesterday I went to Rio Bamba again for a Gender and Development (GAD) seminar. It was fun, and moderately informative, and best of all: free food at honestly the best restaurant I’ve eaten at in Ecuador. The whole trip was worth it just for the food. I got to hang out with a great group of people, and speak English, and overall it was a relaxing, amusing day.
Except…I found out that Ana, one of my friends, the girl I hung out with over my birthday and honestly one of the most charismatic people I’ve ever known, got sent home. Plus, three other people dropped out and headed back to the US. If you don’t count Russ (he didn’t go through training with us and really just does his own thing), then Omnibus 101 is down to 35 people. We’ve lost nine, several of them people that I truly considered friends.
Good news: Joyce is coming to visit next weekend, and I have an opportunity to do something for the fourth of July, which I don’t know if I’ll take, but it’s nice to know that the possibility is there. Later in July I’m going to Puyo, which will be my first taste of the Oriente. I’m eating cuy tomorrow with a group of high school students and Moderately Creepy Teacher, which should be fun despite the fact that Moderately Creepy Teacher is Moderately Creepy (he showed me shirtless vacation photos and kept pointing out his wife and reinforcing the fact that she is dead.)
Ecuador continues to amuse and amaze me. I’ve had a stranger tell me I should marry a local British man who I’ve never met and is probably vastly older than me because we both speak English and “No one should have to be alone.” I’ve seen a skinned cow hanging from a tree, complete with skin next to it, like something out of “Silence of the Lambs.” I’ve had an old woman invite herself to my house for lunch and then demand I kill her the chicken conveniently pecking around by my feet (I got out of it by pretending not to understand and walking quickly away). I was given guitar lessons by a group of nuns in their convent. I bought a cheap guitar, which promptly broke. I bought a ridiculously large, hand carved wooden turtle that will apparently bring me luck (but where will I fit it?). I bought a foam mat and started teaching myself yoga in my house. I got birthday presents in the mail in Ambato (NEWSWEEK makes me deliriously happy) and discovered by the post office the best empanadas of my life. I have HOT WATER in my shower. I went to a local fiesta and shuffle-danced with my landlord (and later got sick off the food). I bravely battled with large spiders and won. I’ve met new people and made new friends.
Overall, life is not perfect, but is it ever? In fact, it’s something better than perfect: it’s exciting, and new, and challenges me, and makes me think and change and grow. I appreciate being here, in Ecuador, in the Peace Corps, every day, even the bad ones. Underneath it all, I am a hopeless optimist. I think you have to be.
PS: This entry was for you, Ruben. Now stop pestering your wife. ;-) I love you guys.
And yes, that is a Declaration of Independence. That´s it: Stop the competition. We win. At life. Everyone else can go home and cry about it.
