apparently the volcano is in the Christmas spirit

"What is on me?" Sitemate asked as we went running through the mountains today. I looked over; his black shirt and hair was coated with tiny white dots. I shrugged.

"Dunno. It looks like baby powder exploded on you."

We kept running. I started to notice flurries, which quickly picked up, covering my clothes and glasses. But it wasn't snow.

It was volcanic ash.

"So...are we gonna die?" Sitemate asked perkily. My mouth started to taste like grit.

"I certainly hope not. But let's get inside. And, uh, find a mask."

"Instead of running, let's watch Supernatural," he proclaimed. "I want a beer."

I laughed. "Exercise and then beer?"

"I know, I'm bipolar with my health."

"How about box wine instead?" I asked, giving up any pretense of a healthy lifestyle. "We'll make Christmas cookies."

"Deal," he said, as we walked through the gently falling ash, sucking some in with every breath. "God, I do not want to know what the inside of my lungs looks like right now."

things I never thought I'd say

Dude, this volcano is starting to seriously freak me out. The rumble is constant, as is the lava and it sets all the dogs in town howling.

As Sitemate said: "It's gonna blow."

Little nervous, tbqh. Last time it blew all the roads were blocked with ash and the airports were shut down. And that was a small eruption.

This is the volcano:

Only in Ecuador: an illustrated journey

Sitemate and I are running today on this idyllic little mountain footpath, when we round a corner to see a cow blocking the way.

"Oh," you say, "a cow. How lovely, with their moos and their silly udders and big brown eyes."

No. This bitch is pissed. She has eyes of murder.



The path is totally blocked on both sides. There are only two options: Go back, or duck between some murderous barbed wire into someone's private property to go around the cow, then go back through the barbed wire to rejoin the path.

Through the barbed wire we go! It snags on my pants and cuts my skin a little, but I've had my tetanus shot, so no worries!


The cow is watching us with her murder eyes, like: "Bitches, you think you can just go around this fine piece of pissed off bovine ass? I think not!"

And we are like: "Fuck you, cow. Fuck you and your demon stare."

So we find a place where we can get back through the barbed wire, but we have to belly-crawl right under a big spiderweb. The spider isn't in it, but that's almost worse, because then you don't know where it is.



We get back on the trail and yay! Now we can run. But first there is one thing we have to do.

Taunt the cow.



The cow stomps a little when Sitemate gets too close to taunt it with his ipod video recorder going (I have to get a copy of that tape!) and we are both yelling, "Yeah, that's right cow, whatcha gonna do, you slut! Fuck off! We beat you!" I finally call Sitemate back before he gets trampled. And we keep running.

Only in Ecuador.

Something like life

• I’m choosing to forgo a weekend of Halloween debauchery in favor of…sitting around and doing nothing. I know, lame me is lame, but this is Ecuador. The party is an eight hour bus ride one way, and will entail the same thing Peace Corps parties always do: drinking watery beer until people get too drunk to stand. Only difference is that they will be in costume. Hop on a bus for two hours to the nearest city to do this? Sweet, I’m in. Eight hours, having to deal with the logistics of a hostel and navigating my way through mazes of drunk people who I don’t really know? I’ll pass, thanks.

• Speaking of Christmas, I started downloading music! TWO WEEKS UNTIL I LET MYSELF START TO LISTEN TO IT. It’s the most magical time of the year, and don’t you forget it.

• Speaking of the time BEFORE Christmas, my most amazing friend Charlotte is coming right before Thanksgiving! THIS WILL BE EPIC, I AM CERTAIN.

• Twice now Sitemate and I have run into this perpetually drunk Ecuadorian who keeps rambling at us about heroin and AC/DC. I don’t understand. It would be funny if he weren’t so…persistent. Does he think we have heroin? Is he on heroin? Does he want to sell heroin? I don’t know, but it’s awkward.

• I was force fed guinea pig the other day. I wish this wasn't a commonplace thing. PS TMI: guinea pig makes your hands smell really funny for many hours after you eat it.

• I gave an on-camera interview for Peace Corps that might be used for recruitment purposes. That's right kids, my smiling face could be encouraging YOU to join Peace Corps. Somehow, I managed to be really enthusiastic about it. Don't know how.

• I had a meeting with a community the other day that actually went really well! I’m shocked and amazed. We might even start a composting toilet project there, which would be a godsend to the end of my service.

• I worked with the disabled kids at the foundation for the first time today in like a month. When they saw me in the door they freaked and jumped up to hug me. Some didn’t want to let go. It really made my heart grow three sizes. They really are sweet, sweet kids.

And that is my life in a nutshell!

Thinky thoughts

I'm taking my GRE on Saturday. I'm nervous, and I probably (definitely) haven't studied enough, but it's my second time 'round and I think I'll be fine. Biggest thing is getting to Quito tomorrow-- 4.5 hour bus ride, then waiting around until Sunday so that the Peace Corps Ecuador director can drive me back to my site. Why he wants to do this, why he's even visiting my site...I have no idea.

I'm freaking about getting into grad school, of course I am. I realized the other day that I've been sort of blindly assuming that I'll get in to American, or Denver, but there's a good chance I won't. I thought of how depressed I would be to not get into grad school, and how much that would suck to have a whole year of just working and waiting to reapply. And then I thought of a conversation I had with a fellow volunteer a few days ago.

We had both lived abroad before this. She said:

"It's weird, you know, all the places I've lived I have such a desire to go back to, to live there again, but with Ecuador..."

"You want to get the hell out and never look back?" I supplied. She nodded.

"I can't even put my finger on why. It's a perfectly nice country. I like it here. I just... I want to leave."

And all I could say was: "I know exactly how you feel."

I'm not unhappy. I'm not crying myself to sleep or pining away or drowning my sorrows in chocolate. The place I live is beautiful, the people are nice, the work...could be better, but whatever, I have internet and a great sitemate and a hammock. But I just want to leave. I want to board a plane and never come back.

By the end of my time in Spain I was calling it my second home, my second country. Ecuador never was, and never will be, my country. It will never accept me, and I will always be a foreigner, and outsider, a thorn in its side.

If I get into grad school, I will be the happiest girl on the planet, no lie. But if I don't get in...it won't be the end of the world. I'll still be happy. Because no matter what, I won't be living here anymore. I'll be living in the United States, in a big crazy city with water that I don't have to boil and food that won't give me amoebas and people who look like me and speak my language. I'll find a job, and an apartment, make friends, date, go out on weekends, apply to grad school next year. I'll start looking for an agent for my book. I'll be near my family, and see the change of seasons, and just be so wholly there and not here. And you know what? That's all I need.

My life, let me show it to you

People have been all "so what's life like in the Peace Corps?" Let me give you a typical rundown of a day lately.

Morning:

-Drag my ass grumpily out of bed sometime between 8-9
-Make enough tea to water a small army
-Drink all the tea
-Eat breakfast
-Go to the bathroom every five minutes due to all the tea
-Every time I enter the bathroom I do a sweep check for the tarantulas (yes, I do mean that literally) that like to hide out in my shower and eat small children
- Browse the internet
- Realize I have a class I haven't prepared for.
-That's ok. I just grab an old powerpoint presentation and my laptop and figure that if the teacher doesn't have a plan I'll just show that. Also, it doesn't matter because over 80% of the time class is cancelled anyway due to soccer or parties or something.
-Get dressed
-Walk the fifteen minutes to the local high school
-Realize all the students are in some kind of school-wide meeting. Again.
-Run into some teacher/employee/friend who tells me that I've gotten fatter since he last saw me.
-Find the creepy teacher I'm working with hanging out at a store/cafe instead of teaching class. We plan to have class the following week, but I won't hold my breath. Also, his shirt is unbuttoned down to his navel.
-Return home.

Afternoon:

-Internet
-Revise fanfiction chapters and read blogs
-Eat lunch
-Write entries like this
-Write some fanfiction
-Send out a few emails
-Try to convince myself to do something productive
-This succeeds about 25% of the time. Like yesterday, when I wrote an essay for the PC Ecuador newspaper.
-Keep writing/revising/checking livejournal and gmail compulsively
-Maybe study for the GRE's for like half an hour

Evening:

-Talk to my mom on Skype
-Internet
-Go to dance class. This will end in one of two ways.
- 1. I have the class and return home gross and sweaty to take a shower
- 2. I wait around with a couple other people for 45 minutes (like last night) while the instructor keeps saying the class will start "right now" until I finally get fed up and leave
-Return home.
-Cook dinner
-Internet until bed at around 12:00 am.



So basically.

I have no life.

*sigh*

More news on Ecuador

"In a speech to soldiers from Quito's main barracks, President Correa said: "If you want to kill the president, here he is. Kill him, if you want to. Kill him if you are brave enough. "If you want to seize the barracks, if you want to leave citizens undefended, if you want to betray the mission of the police force, go ahead. But this government will do what has to be done. This president will not take a step back.""

Can you imagine the US President ever shouting this to the masses? It's pretty potent. I'd embed the video but I can't find an embed code on the website so you'll just have to go to the website to see him get beaned by tear gas. It's scary.


Also, I don't know why, but I find this funny:

"They are trying to oust President Correa. Wake up the people of the Bolivarian Alliance! Wake up the people of Unasur [Union of South American Nations]! Viva Correa!," Mr Chavez wrote in a message on Twitter.



South American dictators...on Twitter. What is the world coming to?

Luck?

So I got this email this afternoon from the US Embassy:

September 30, 2010

The U.S. Embassy in Quito would like to inform U.S. citizens visiting or residing in Ecuador that a large, nationwide strike by all levels of police, including military police, is developing at this time. As a result, airports in Guayaquil, Quito and other major cities are closed and major highways may also be closed going in and out of Quito, Guayaquil and other major cities.

Due to blockages of multiple roads and tire fires being set by police, the security situation has degraded significantly. American citizens are asked to stay in their homes or current location, if safe. American citizens with immediate travel plans may be forced to put them on hold until the situation improves.



...if the situation doesn't improve by Monday (which it probably will, but a girl can hope, right?) then I might get to stay a few more days in the US. LOVELY.

blonde hair = ho, apparently

So I work with this teacher who I have dubbed "Moderately Creepy Teacher" (MCT) because he is Moderately Creepy. He's never done anything overtly creepy, but....ok, well he did show me that stack of shirtless vacation photos that one time, and he did keep pointing to his wife in the photos and saying: "That's my dead wife." Most of the time he just sits a little too close and wears his shirts a bit too unbuttoned and is just...greasy. Also missing some teeth and overweight and did I mention in his 50s? Anyway.

Yesterday I went up to the school for the first time since the semester started to plan things with him. We were sitting in the teacher's lounge and there were two teachers there who I didn't recognize. One of the asked who I was. The other one said, with kind of a nudge nudge wink wink vibe about him:

"Oh, just another one of his compañeras." Which, you know, roughly translates as friend, but said a certain way...

"No!" I sputtered. "I'm a Peace Corps volunteer! We're giving an Agriculture class together!"

What I wanted to say was: "Okay, so, I get that ya'll think all gringas are like the sluttiest sluts who ever slutted, but SERIOUSLY? You think I'd bang THAT? Have you looked at me? Have you looked at him? Have you noted the age difference? And the missing teeth? Really? Really?"

I don't get it, man. I am so tired of being perceived a certain way solely because of stereotypes of my race.

OH and later MCT invited me to the beach with him and some of his friends. WHAT.

I need to get out of here.

So Much Hate

Guys. It is a festival today. You know what that means? That since early this morning there has been bad reggaton and indigenous music blasting so loudly that my walls and windows are literally shaking. I am wearing earplugs in my own house, and they only dim the music a little. I can't think. I can't write, or work, or study, or sleep. The streets are full of vendors and drunks. There's no escape. I am losing my mind.

I miss...

I miss normalcy, which is strange for a girl who has always craved the strange, the new, the unseen. But Ecuador is no longer new, it's just an endless repetition of useless days and I find myself missing those moments, those early-20s-carefree moments that I'm supposed to be living right now, that I would be if I were not trapped here, in this place, alone.

I miss streets surrounded by tall buildings that aren't made of cement. I miss living in a country where there are not goats and pigs and chickens on buses and on every corner, where it is illegal to go to the bathroom in public, where I am not woken most mornings to the most horrible music my ears have ever had the displeasure of hearing. I miss highways, smooth stretches of road that aren't dirt and stone. I miss being able to walk a street at any point during the day and feel safe. I miss not feeling the need to carry a knife with me everywhere. I miss not assuming that everyone will rob or swindle me because I am different. I miss speaking English, my beautiful language, every day, the familiar words and syllables rolling off of my tongue with ease. I miss being articulate, and not a stumbling child, working her way through an unfamiliar language, slow and stupid.

I miss wanting to look pretty, doing all of those things I used to do: showering every day, blow drying my hair, putting in contacts, putting on makeup, picking out a nice outfit, feeling proud of how i look. Here I skulk in oversized clothes and glasses, my yellow hair tucked under a hat, trying to stem the tide of shouts and whistles that accompany any gringa any time she goes anywhere. I miss anonymity, being able to sit in the park on a sunny day and eat lunch, without some stranger sitting next to me and asking me the same 20 questions I always hear, or having gaggles of young people whisper and giggle and then whisper again. I miss walking down the street and not being a foot taller and ten million shades whiter than everyone else, the comfort of being surrounded by people who look like me. I miss knowing that, when a guy smiles in my direction, it's because he thinks I'm pretty, no matter my ethnicity or where I come from.

I miss being able to go to people's houses and refuse food; the force-feeding is what gave me amoebas in the first place. I miss living in a country where I won't get amoebas. I miss washing my dishes in a sink, not in a tub outside. I miss not having to boil my water and peel my tomatoes and soak my fruit in disinfectant. I miss always having electricity and hot water. I miss throwing toilet paper in the toilet and not in the wastebasket. I miss drying my clothes in a machine. I miss the gym, and taekwondo, the uniform and belt, the smooth movements, the strange korean words in my mouth.

I miss good restaurants, and Thai food, and sushi, and McDonalds, and Indian, and cheap Chinese that actually has flavor, and chain restaurants, and big breakfasts, and free refill drinks with ice. I miss large grocery stores where I can buy fresh ginger, and olive oil, and cheerios.

I miss my friends, the ones who really get me and don't proclaim "You're psychotic" when I nerd out to them. I miss my Char. I miss my family, my dog, my mom's hugs, shooting with my dad, cooking with my sister, laughing at Comedy Central with my brother.

I miss riding in cars. I miss American boys. I miss shy smiles across rooms. I miss taking my laptop to a coffee shop on a cold winter day when the snow is fat and heavy outside. I miss hot dance clubs where the bodies are packed so tightly and I am just one of many. I miss buying wine and getting giggly in restaurants. I miss sunny summer days when the air shines golden as the sun sets. I miss the crispness of fall, the first breath of spring, sitting on green campus lawns and glorying in the sun. I miss riding my bike everywhere.

I miss having a life outside of my house, the internet, a smattering of other volunteers, and the farmers I work with. I miss not being the creeper that Ecuador has made me. I miss having some shred of normalcy left inside of the tattered maze of my brain. I miss having friends that I can touch. I miss touch, human contact that isn't the brief dirt-encrusted handshake of a campesino. I miss hugs, so much that sometimes I enjoy massages just because someone is touching me in a kind and gentle way.

I miss feeling needed, wanted, in work, in life, in love. I miss having a purpose. I miss dates, and butterflies-in-the-stomach, and flirting, and hope. I miss inside jokes.

I miss being the girl I was before, that bright and witty girl with a strong group of friends, who cherished every day and felt indescribably blessed and lucky. I miss that girl. She is not here, and I don't think I will get her back again for a long time.

My, my, my, it's a beautiful world...

I had a lovely weekend. A friend of mine just COSed (Close of Service), meaning her time in the Peace Corps is done and she's heading home. She swung by my area for a few days and we went to a nearby tourist-town, where on Friday we went bike riding next to a beautiful river (and saw the inappropriately-dressed 'Native American' from my previous post). We walked behind waterfalls and got our picture snapped with a boa constrictor wrapped around our shoulders. Saturday was spent shopping in the rain, eating chocolate and Italian food, getting massages, drinking way too much wine, dancing, and just generally being silly and girly and wonderful.

It was the best weekend I've had in a long time, and it's sad to think I may never see her again. But that's what Peace Corps does-- puts people from all walks of life together, then tears them apart. At least now I'll have friends all over the US if I ever do that cross-country trip I've been scheming.

I wonder if I will miss this place when I'm gone. She said I will, that everyone does to some degree. I hope so. I'd hate for these two years to go by and to feel nothing but bitterness when I leave. I'm not that kind of person.

At the very least, I'll have some beautiful memories. And that's enough.

I'm just a sweet transvestite...

There are a few times in life that I think NEVER CHANGE, ECUADOR, NEVER CHANGE. Very few. This is one of them.

Every once in a while, during the obligatory "What state are you from" question, I get a response like the one I had today:

Him: "So what state are you from?"

Me: "Pennsylvania." *blank stare* "It's near New York."

Him: "Ohhh, okay." *pause* "Wow, Pennsyvlania. I've only ever seen that in movies."

Me: "Ummm... yeah I guess there are movies that feature Pennsylvania...?"

Him: "WHERE ALL THE VAMPIRES ARE."

Me: "OHHHH, no, you're thinking of TRANSYLVANIA. That's a country. That doesn't even exist anymore. We don't have vampires. Just cows."

This happens ALL THE TIME. People constantly think I live in a deep dark forest infested with the blood-sucking undead. It's always a shame to tell them the truth. One of these days I should just lie. "Oh yeah, and there's this spooky castle on a hill, and village wenches who go up there NEVER RETURN."

Cultural differences

I don't care that it's a cultural thing, I don't care that things are viewed differently and that here this is not viewed as an insult. DON'T CARE.

It's not okay (NOT OKAY!!!) to have this conversation with the older lady you're friends with:

"Oh yeah, I've started going to this dance class every night so I can get in shape before my sister's wedding."

"Oh really?" (looks at me up and down) "Because you're fatter than the last time I saw you."

"Oh...." (looks at self) "I didn't think i looked any different..."

"Nope. You're fatter."

"...."

NOT OKAY, ECUADOR. NOT OKAY.

:-(

Edit: Clearly she wasn't insulting me. It's not an insult here, and I know that as a culturally sensitive person I'm supposed to accept and understand that. But I can't. American cultural norms are ingrained in my head, and no matter what I tell myself, my inner bitch is yelling THAT'S NOT OKAY, DUDE. NOT OKAY.

Edit #2: This is also coming after a long period of build-up. Gaining weight = happy, to Ecuadorians. So everywhere I go, I am greeted with : "Sarita! You've gained weight!" and after about a year of this, in which my weight hasn't fluctuated that much, I'm just kind of getting sick of it. It's tough, when you eat right and exercise, to walk around and hear every day from ten different sources that you're fat. It just wears you down. I liked it better when I came here and got sick, and everyone was bemoaning that I was too thin. It's like a ten pound difference between now and then, but I guess they can tell. It's frustrating. I'm not even someone who usually obsesses over weight, I don't diet and I'm pretty happy the way I am, thank-you-very-much. But comments day in and day out take a tole, no matter what the cultural meaning is.

Strangely shining moments

...and as I sit in the grass and watch the horses parade in circles, their thrilled and sometimes bewildered riders clinging like velcro to their backs, I play with the dirty clovers and searched for four-leaved ones, like when I was a child and would spend hours combing through a field for good luck. The fat golden retriever with its waving fan of a tail makes me six again, in the summer grass with my best friend and his briar-covered fur. In the distance, beyond the hyacinth and hibiscus, the volcano is topped with ice. The wind is so very clean.

Later, I hold a baby with Down's syndrome in my lap and croon songs to him in English. I haven't held a baby in many years, but it feels good, wide eyes looking into mine, small body cradled against my hip. He is beautiful, pudgy-cheeked, and there is a strange sadness knowing already at seven months that he will never grow up to be what we humans so arbitrarily classify as normal.

One tiny girl is fierce and bright, a shining star; she is here because her toddler sister has Down's. She likes me, I don't know why, and holds my hand whenever we walk. She likes to sit on my lap, and I stroke her long dark hair, and I think, I would like to have a daughter someday.

Here, in this place, I find unexpected moments of beauty.

MY FIRST MARRIAGE PROPOSAL...or mistress proposal, not sure which

OKAY. I'm walking down the street today, on my way to the fundacion, when this guy stops me in the street. He knows me; I don't remember him. This happens often, mainly because I work in a bunch of different communities and while I stick out here, they don't. He's got to be in his mid-40s. And the exchange goes something like this.

Wait, I can't even transcribe it. It's too weird and filled with me just going "...." or "uh...gracias?" or laughing nervously. But, in a nutshell, he monologued:

"I haven't seen you in so long! Where have you been? You're just enchanting, so beautiful." (He touches my hair in a too-familiar way). "Oh, that blonde hair, blue eyes." (My eyes are green, so...?) "You know, you should stay in Ecuador forever. You've just enchanted me. I have a hacienda (big house with land), and you could come live there are be treated like a lady and never have to leave Ecuador."

This went on for a while, but that was the gist. Plus, I was wearing a black sweater that I had shed on a bit, so at one point he started PICKING THE HAIRS OFF OF MY SWEATER LIKE HE WAS GOING TO KEEP THEM WTF.

Seriously. Ecuador. I'm know I'm gringa. I'm super gringa. I'm like the gringiest gringa who ever gringa-d. But really. YOU CAN'T JUST WALK UP TO PEOPLE ON THE STREET AND DO THESE THINGS. It's creepy. And no, I'm not going to move to your hacienda and be your wife/mistress. Really, I'm not.

Acts of kindness; or, I hope I didn't get fleas

(x-posted at my livejournal, which from now on everything will be, due to the fact that I've rediscovered how awesome livejournal is.)

Yesterday was the first full, exhausting, useful, fulfilling day I've had in a long, long time. It's a good feeling, this particular type of exhaustion. I had almost forgotten what it felt like (and I'm so tired today that it amazes me to think I used to have school full time + 20 hour internship a week + homework + a strong network of friends and a great roommate to hang out with. I don't know how I managed it. It was the best year of my life, so far.)

I volunteered with a medical brigade that was doing free health checkups and doctor's visits in the indigenous town of Salasaca. They were a group of young doctors and docs-in-training from the States, and most didn't speak Spanish, so I was there with a few other Peace Corps people to work as translators. The turnout was huge-- we were working ALL DAY.

It was awesome! I've found that I love translating. It makes me feel so gosh-darn smart. I played soccer in the morning with the group before the clinic (aka local two-room elementary school) doors opened, and most of the rest of the day was spent with the physical therapists, translating their every question and instruction to the patients.

It was tough, though, because Salasaca is a super-duper indigenous community, meaning...many of them DON'T SPEAK SPANISH. They speak Quichua, a strange, mumbly language that has no connection whatsoever to Spanish. And I don't speak a word of it. (Well, technically I can say brother, sister, child, it's cold, it's hot, and hungover.) Plus, most of the physical therapy people were ancient (I'm talking 80-90 years old), without shoes or teeth, or hearing, or eyesight. AND they were so old/confused/not speaking the language that they would nod and say Si Si to whatever I said, but didn't actually get a word of it.

So most of the day there was a line of translation: the doctor would speak English, I would repeat in Spanish, and some helpful villager would speak Quicha to the patient. But even then, they just wouldn't understand how to do the simplest of things, like sitting up straight or lifting their arms above their head. It would go like this:

"Lift your arms above your head, like this." *Doc and I lift our arms*

*patient lifts them to the side*

"No, up, up, like this." *lifts them up*

*patients holds them out*

"NO, UP, DO EXACTLY WHAT WE ARE DOING."

*patient lifts one arm*

"Okay, but both arms. Look at us!" *waves arms in the air*

*patient holds them out to sides again*

It was like that ALL DAY.

It was also heartbreaking at times, because we didn't have the tools or equipment to really help people who needed help. One man had torn a hugely important tendon in his knee, and couldn't walk, but we didn't have a knee brace, or shoes that fit him, so all we could do was give him some exercises to strengthen the other muscles and send him on his way. One young woman had adolescent arthritis, making her hands curl up like claws, and her feet were severely deformed, making it difficult for her to walk. She needed special shoes and braces for her hands to stop the progression of the deformity, but we didn't have them. The worst thing is, if these people are in pain they can't work, can't feed their families. And the ones we could help, who only needed some physical therapy and to do simple stretches and movements in their home, probably didn't quite understand what to do or will just forget and won't do them in their houses. The people here are notoriously...forgetful, resistant to change.

Salasacaneos (is that how you spell it), are a really cool people, though. They are originally from Bolivia and always wear the traditional outfits: black skirts, white flowy shirts and brightly-colored ponchos for the women, black pants and black ponchos for the men. They are also cleaner than most indigenous communities, which I guess isn't saying a lot, because they are still pretty...well, let's just say that I really, really hope that I didn't get fleas. And one doctor hugged this adorable crying old woman, which was a really sweet gesture, but probably not the smartest idea in the world.

Here, have some google images, because I forgot to bring my camera yesterday:



It was long day of hard work, in which I got to feel super smart with my awesome Spanish, hang out with some really cool people, and help those that really needed/appreciated our help. In short, it was exactly what Peace Corps should be like all the time. I guess that for some lucky people, it is. I'm just glad to have one good day every once in a while, to keep me sane.

Culture Clash: What does weight mean?

x-posted at my livejournal:

I just HAD to record this conversation (and remember this is all taking place in Spanish):

Today I was sitting on a very, very tiny child's chair today at the day-care for mentally disabled children and one of the employees looked at me and said, out of the blue: "Sarita, I like your thighs."

There was a long, long pause, as I tried to sort out what I had just heard. "What?"

"Your thighs."

Awkward smile. "I don't understand. My thighs?"

"Yes!"

I looked down at my jeans. My legs looked like...legs. Normal. "...what about them?"

"I like them."

"You like my thighs. Um. Why?"

She beamed at me. "Because they are so big and round! My thighs are so skinny, it's terrible. I wish I had thighs like yours."

"Uh, thank you? You know, in my country, it's much better to have thighs like yours. Only skinny is pretty."

"Fat isn't pretty??????"

They were truly surprised. Now granted, being huge isn't attractive here, but there is definitely the mindset that a little meat on your bones is a good thing. This is why, when I first arrived in Ecuador, my host family used to exclaim: "Eat more! You're too thin, you look sick!" and months later, when they saw me again and I had gained at least 10 pounds, everyone had to say: "You gained weight! You're mas gordita! How wonderful!" and pinch my stomach.

(And here I'm inserting the obligatory clarification: I am not fat, or overweight. I am a nice, normal size, which in America means I could stand to lose 10 pounds, but in Ecuador means I'm skinny as hell. Except, I guess, for my thighs.)

Sooooo.... guess it's time I update, eh?

It's been almost four months since my last update, so thank Gill for bringing that to my attention. Truth is, I don't really know what to post anymore. Things are kind of blurry for me right now, like life is sliding by and I'm finding it surprisingly difficult to grasp moments and memories.

I went to Cuenca in May, for "resiliency training", aka, "how not to ET training." It was (surprise surprise!) boring as hell, but while in Cuenca I got to hang out with some amazing people and see what is truly the most beautiful city in Ecuador.

My birthday was in June, during mid-service (boring, but mercifully short), and some people from my Omnibus surprised me with a chocolate-covered apple, a mini bottle of wine, and a big bottle of vodka, which we all shared. I am in awe of the people in Peace Corps-- I swear it draws the best of the USA.

Big bro came to visit for the whole month of June, but besides saying we went to the beach and attempted to surf (I actually managed to stand up a few times!), I can't get into details here. Maybe next year... but let's just say it was awesome.

I've been writing A LOT. Nothing exciting (fanfiction, doncha know, aka I've developed an obsessive love of Supernatural), but I've realized that writing fun stories is so, so good for me. Not only does it allow me to have fun on otherwise boring days and get some positive feedback online, but it also allows me to percolate on original ideas that are lingering in the back of my mind. My brother actually inspired me during his visit, and now I have the plot for a possible book that is quietly putting itself into place while I write other stories. I'm super-excited about this -- Dangerous People was my one good idea, and now that I've written it I was afraid inspiration wouldn't strike again.

I just got ordained online (apparently I can absolve your sins now), so I can officiate my sister's wedding in a few months. I'm also looking up plane fares online, and will be home for a week at the end of September/beginning of October. Plus, only nine months left of Peace Corps!

As for daily living... things have slowed down... a lot. The volcano erupted, which is kind of cool, but mostly irritating. About 50% of my work was in a town called El Triunfo, and I can no longer go there because I have to go through Banos, and that's off-limits because of the volcano. Also, school is out for the summer, so there goes another 25% of my work. Plus, my community contacts aren't getting back to me, so...you get the idea. I'm trying to plan new things, get involved with new projects, because damnit, I only have nine months left and I want to be able to say that I accomplished SOMETHING in the Peace Corps.

Oh, and I joined the newly-restarted newspaper, El Clima, though exactly what I'm supposed to be doing on it I'm still a little unclear. Hmmm....

What else is new? Spent the forth of July in my apartment, feeling sick, but on the 10th there is a gringo get-together in Rio Bamba complete with picnic food and fireworks that I hope to go to. If that falls through I'll go to a picnic in Cayambe on the ninth. I've (finally) started exercising again. I found sour cream for the first time in 16 months (Wooo!). I'm signing up for the GRE's as soon as they open for registration. I'm getting by. And...that's life in Ecuador.

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Went to Mindo the other weekend with some PC people, and had one of those crazy, soul-sustaining times that keep me sane in Ecuador. It's a sleepy little cloud-forest town, where we went zip-lining (one of which was a slightly terrifying bungee-jump-cum-zip-lining mash up) and jumped off of a high (12 meters) rock into water (I hit the bottom) and swam in a river with waterfalls. At night we ate delicious over-priced food and swapped stories and were generally silly. There are good people in PC Ecuador, that's all I have to say.

And now for something completely different...

I'm in a pretty good mood tonight. I finally realized today that if I want a change in my life, I have to make it, and that even something small can make a difference. So I looked up some info/videos online and started teaching myself Parkour/freerunning at a local children's park.

It's perfect for me: the park is ten minute walk from my house, and isolated enough that are no people staring at me as I run (and Patate is perfectly safe, as well, unlike other Ecuadorian cities...please don't let THAT statement come back and bite me in the...)

The park is filled with benches, jungle gyms, swings, tables, tires, slides, everything a beginner runner could want. Parkour, or freerunning (though they are a little different, but at this basic level I think I can use them relatively interchangeably) is essentially running from point A to point B no matter what is in front of you. So you vault off tables and swing over bars. It gets crazy (aka the guy in the opening sequence of "Casino Royale" was a freerunner), but I'm just trying to learn how to roll without hurting myself and vaulting over benches. It is brutal work, and makes my whole body feel like jelly. I feel great.

Work is also improving, and while it is still slow slow slow I am at least getting something accomplished, and that's a relief. A school garden actually succeeded (gasp!), a farmer sought me out to ask my advice, a school I work with made their own Biol, and I'll be teaching honest-to-goodness classes in a few weeks. And as always, the people that I work with are so friendly, I literally don't know what I would do without them.

My biggest thing now is looking to the future: My brother's visit in June (+birthday and midservice), going home for my sister's wedding, Me + Mom = Galapagos, but most especially ending my service in just over a year and going to graduate school. I've been doing my research and have my schools narrowed down (just two now, but they are both awesome), and will be retaking the GRE's/ applying this fall. I am so, so looking forward to that life. I miss school, I do. I miss learning, I miss sitting in classrooms, I miss writing papers in coffee shops on my laptop, I miss living in an American city with American people.

Now that the craziness of February is over and I have some work to do, I am content here. A volunteer who is just about to COS (leave country) told me that the goal of the second year is just to make it to the end, but it goes fast and despite this, is the best year of all. So I'm looking to the future, as always, but content. Maybe I will even miss it when it's over.

So...

This isn't going to be a long entry, as it is still rather difficult to type now, but I figured that I should update after what happened.

A little over a week ago, a friend and I were attacked in a park in Ambato.

This isn't one of those "girl was walking through a deserted street at 3 am drunk and got assaulted" deals. We did nothing wrong. It was the middle of the afternoon on a sunny day, in a park filled with soccer players, families, and laughing children. My friend Julie (another PC volunteer) and I were walking back to her house on an "ecological trail" that follows the river. A young family, with a well-dressed dad, mom, and infant, had passed us several times that day, but we thought that they were just strolling aimlessly like we were. The moment we began to think it was strange and no one else was around, he whipped a knife out.

He grabbed Julie's arm. She screamed and dropped into a crouch because she was afraid that he was aiming his knife at her neck. I lunged at him and he turned on me; when I tried to knock the knife out of his hand he swiped at me and cut my thumb and index finger, then cut the strap of Julie's bag and ran with it.

Luckily, there was nothing of value in the bag except her house keys (she promptly changed the locks), and it gives me a grim satisfaction to know that he went through all of that for a broken bag, lipstick, unusable keys, and hand sanitizer.

I was bleeding to a degree that was frightening. I've never in my life seen so much blood. It pooled in my cupped hands and ended up on my face, all down my pants, and saturated my sneakers to a degree that even my socks were bloody. Some kind hearted lady helped us get to the hospital and gave me an old shirt to staunch the bleeding; it became soaked through with blood. I also bled all over the emergency room floor. I can't imagine the amount you must pour out if you get stabbed someplace serious.

The cut on my thumb is the worst, a deep diagonal gash that took eight stitched to close. The other isn't as bad, only four stitches and it barely hurt at all. The doctor claimed there was no nerve damage, but I still can't feel the tip of my thumb, so....

I go back to Quito tomorrow to get my stitches removed, and I also get to go the following week to talk to the new group of trainees. Poor Julie is jumping at her own shadow and hates the sight of families with children. I'm mainly pissed that I didn't think clearly while fighting (punching instead of kicking, so stupid of me!)

I've already written more than I thought I would, and it sucks to type without a thumb. It just sucks in general. Everything about this month so far, with its drama and huge annoying festivals and lack of work and water balloons (Carnaval) and drunks and too many parades and irritating bottle rocket/fireworks just sucks.

I can't wait for March.

A Year in the House of Sarah

A little late, but here it is:

2009: A Year in Review


January:
-Started the year in Baltimore, watching the fireworks with Gill and her (then-boyfriend, now husband) Ken, freezing our butts off, praying for good things.
-The inauguration of President Obama.

February:
-Road tripped to Pittsburgh and Penn State, for a final farewell of friends and fun.
-Left for Peace Corps, Ecuador. Arrived in Quito one warm rainy night, then journeyed on to Cayambe to begin training.
-Went to Mitad del Mundo, the center of the earth, and stood with one foot in each hemisphere

March:
-My first stomach flu of Ecuador….the first of many.
- Learned to wash my clothes on a big stone, went to Cotacachi, went on big hikes, saw an indigenous sun celebration and was blessed by a shaman, ate guinea pig for the first time, had long days of classes
- Found out my site placement was La Victoria, Tungurahua

April:
-Went on my site visit, and came away from it scared and upset and dreading the future.
-Went on the Tech Trip, which included lounging in a pool and playing soccer and doing yoga in the steaming heat of Puerto Quito, and staring at the stars, buying chocolate, and doing karaoke in Salinas de Guaranda. One of the best weeks of my life.
-Finished my classes.
-Swore in in Quito on April 30, and became an official Peace Corps Volunteer.

May:
-Moved to my site, and had to sit on my hands for three weeks because my house in LV was not finished.
-Finally moved into my house in LV.
-Started planning many projects, many of which would never come to fruition. Ah, PC life.

June:
-23rd Birthday in Rio Bamba!
- It rained all month.
-Thus started summer depression.

July:
- Depressed and stuck in LV alone. It continued to rain. Not a great month.

August:
- Pretty depressed and without work and got sick in Tena… until…
- I got permission to move to Patate. I started looking for an apartment and found one that I absolutely love.

September:
- Moved to Patate
- Went to the grad school fair in Quito, which changed what I want to study and direction my life will take, and, completely coincidently, met Adam
-He followed me home and lived with me for the next month
-Began work with my new counterpart group, Aves y Conservacion, first trip to El Triunfo, and the rest is history.
- Reconnect in Rio Bamba

October:
- More work, good times with Adam
-The El Chaco trip, in which I got way too sick and missed whitewater rafting. Yeah, that sucked.

November:
- Thanksgiving at the embassy

December:
- Christmas, went home, and all of the wonderful times that came with it
-My sister got engaged

A few low points, but all in all, a pretty great year. Here’s to 2010: I can’t wait to see what you will bring me.

A New Year

I realize that I have lacking in writing in this journal, and for that matter, even in my own journal. I feel like my entries are few and far between and unable to accurately show a realistic portrayal of Ecuador, its people, and my life here.

Recently, though, there has been very little to write. The weeks before I went home were filled with the agony of waiting, and also the desperate rush to finish revising my book before I left (though now I realize that it needs MORE revising. I swear, I will never be done.) Then I returned, went to Guaranda for New Year's, and have spent the remaining days sick in bed and spending far too much time on the internet.

First off:

Christmas was wonderful, and honestly, soul-sustaining. I encourage every volunteer who has even a lukewarm relationship with their family to go home at least once. Sometimes your mind just needs a respite, to be surrounded by nostalgic things before it can keep going.

The big news is, of course, that my amazing, brilliant, wonderful, smart, witty , fantastic sister is engaged, and this is a wedding that I will definately be coming home for. It's tentatively next fall, so I have about another ten months to go, and I am just so happy for her that I could frolic.

I also saw friends, exchanged gifts (Zombie Christmas Carols, anyone?), and generally just basked in love. Oh, and I got a netbook, since my old computer was just about to die on me.

Going to Guaranda for New Year's was not what I had anticipated or planned, but was fun and cold and turned out to be an amazing cultural experience.

A cultural note: In Ecuador, the tradition for New Year's Eve, or Ano Viejo (literally, old year) is to build representations of all of the sins and problems and anger of the year and burn them at midnight. Also, there are transvestites. Lots of them. This is due to a tradition that men dress up as widows of the old year, asking for money, which eventually evolved into simply dressing up as flashy women and doing a little booty-shaking dance for a few cents. Kids also hold cars hostage by stretching a rope across city streets and refusing to lower it until a fee of five cents is paid (or in some cases, until the driver gets royally pissed off and yells at the kids.) It's pretty awesome to see Ecuadorians, usually so strict in their machismo and male/female roles, dress up in glitter and high heels and makeup and hot pants. They are fierce.

The picture displayed is one of my favorite images of the night: A well done, room-sized display of the Simpsons (representing capitalism/US influences/what?) with a masked, smoking transvestite standing randomly at its side.

We (my new friend Katie and I, since the others went to bed early) were literally the only gringos in the entire city, which meant that we were famous, getting our pictures taking by everyone with a camera and dancing around fires with drunk boys and their elderly moms. Still, just to be safe (because though the enviroment was fun it did combine fire, the pent-up rage due to counting all the bad things that happened that year, and massive amounts of alcohol) we were home by midnight, just in time to watch the fireworks from afar.

Oh, and by the way, if you are ever planning a trip to the Ecuadorian Sierra (mountains), the road from Ambato to Guaranda is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen, with high paramos and grazing alpacas and huge, snow-capped peaks close enough to walk to.

In other news, I have found a martial arts "academy" that looks legit enough, though it doesn't have straight-up tae kwon do. It's apparently some mix of kickboxing, tae kwon do, jujitsu (throwing), and boxing, so it's...kinda of MMA? I'll have to see, but I'll definately be trying it out! I miss fighting. It gives me a sense of control and action, this feeling of being truly within my own skin, of power, that I lack in my day-to-day life. And hey, you can't beat ten bucks a month.

Things are going really well here, and will improve when I am feeling 100 percent and get my ass out of this apartment and start doing some real work. I'm anticipating that from here on out is when it all begins to take shape...God, I hope so. Once I slide back into my charlas, pick some more communties up, start my anti human trafficking work, maybe start writing some articles, and just, well, put myself out there, I'll feel more like a PC volunteer and less like a lazy ass. We'll see.

A happy and beautiful 2010 to all of you, everywhere.