So the other day Adam and I walk out of the apartment, on our way to Ambato to wash alllll of my dirty laundry, and he stops, cocks his head, looks around, and asks: “Where’s my motorcycle?”
To which I very intelligently said: “Huh?”
“My motorcycle.”
“Are you sure you parked it here?”“Yes.”
“Well….shit.”
We both did long, sweeping evaluations of the street, as if it were going to magically pop up a few doors down from when it was parked. We would have panicked, but it was long gone, and seeing as how Adam hadn’t even locked it or anything, it seemed rather stupid to panic.
Actually, he took it rather well, besides a few scathing remarks about Ecuadorians. I was hurt, because my town is touted on being so safe, the people so nice, and I felt incredibly secure here, and that feeling was now ruined. Plus, I was sure, absolutely positive, that this wouldn’t have happened it he wasn’t a gringo. Shitty Ecuador, I thought. Stupid for me to believe that there would be any decency in this place, or that in the place I call my home people wouldn’t want to rob me blind.
A few days go by. Adam makes a few flyers, advertising a reward for the bike. I tell him, in nicer words, that he can do whatever he wants, but he is being stupid. Really stupid. The bike is long gone, probably sold for parts by now. Making flyers is stupid waste of time. In fact, the Ecuadorians will probably snicker at him behind his back for doing such a thing. Let it go.
He makes the flyers and pastes them around town.
Two days later, I get the call. Someone has the bike.
The story goes: This young guy was going to his work as an ayudante (driver’s helper) on the buses at about 5 am last Monday when he saw a motorcycle in the middle of a back street, bent up and with the shit kicked out of it, but still functioning, only a few things broken. Never one to miss an opportunity, he loads it into the back of a truck and takes it home. A few days later, he spots the flyers and gives me a call. I go and see it: he’s telling the truth. There, in all of its banged up glory, is Adam’s motorcycle.
Well, holy shit.
I’m just…awestruck. Blown away. This is incredible. That anyone, but especially a young man with a crappy job and a wife and kid in this country where it is so, so easy to take a bike to a shop and strip it for parts, no questions asked, would return a motorcycle is unbelievable. Now of course there’s the odd chance that he took it hoping there would be a reward, but that’s kind of silly. Most people wouldn’t have put up a flyer. And honestly, if he was going to be dishonest, he could have made a lot more money stripping it for parts than the reward we’re giving him, which is $200. Adam guestimates that he could have made at least $400 by selling. So this young guy just took a $200 pay cut to do the right thing.
Faith in Humanity = restored.
This whole story just makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
In other news, I’m going whitewater rafting with other PC volunteers this Halloween, costume include. (I’m a pirate....arrrrr). I’ve been spending a lot of time in my hammock; during the day it’s a great nap or book revision spot, as long as I have lots of sunblock, and at night there is enough light to read by, so I can snuggle in a blanket with a pillow and a good book.
I am so incredibly content right now, doing my work and having plenty of time to myself as well. My first charlas went fantastically and I have more scheduled for the upcoming weeks. And Christmas….don’t get me started! I’m so excited I can’t even express it. Seven weeks!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Did I fall asleep? For a little while; or, it seems my titles are descending into incomprehensible tv show quotes
Hello all.
It’s been far too long since I updated my blog, but life has been crazy and busy and crazy and busy and fantastic.
I moved out of my previous town and into Patate, which has changed things so completely that I can’t even express it in words. My apartment is amazing, I have work flooding in from all sides, and have been having adventures like it’s nobody’s business. I met a guy, but that’s a whole other story that I won’t be getting into here (he’s leaving soon, anyway.) I’ve been in a cloud forest and traveled around and done so many, many things that I’ll have to tell you all about when I see you.
Memorable moments:
-The grad school fair in Quito was amazing, and totally changed my outlook on what I want to go to graduate school for. My choice now: a dual degree in international relations and journalism. There are several great schools that offer dual degrees like this, including the University of Syracruse, U of Denver, and American.
-I got into the Anti-TIPS task force, a Peace Corps group that fights human trafficking in Ecuador. We meet for the first time next month in Guayaquil!
- I was in my very first earthquake! The whole room shook and things fell off the shelf. I had to run under a doorway to be safe, but it wasn’t that bad so there was no danger. Actually it was all very exciting.
- I have work in several communities, one of which is in a cloud forest. I have almost too much work to do at the moment, and I might have to start turning people down soon. I’m also working with a conservation group, which has taken the place in my life that the Red Cross was supposed to take. They help me and take me to communities and work with me every step along the way. They are my saving grace.
-Reconnect was a long week of lectures, but we had some good times, and at the end of it almost everyone from our Omnibus came to Rio Bamba for the weekend.
-I went to my first Ecuadorian wedding last night, for the daughter of the family that I am very close to in Patate. It was beautiful and very western with the bride in a white dress and a solemn ceremony.
-I AM GETTING INTERNET IN MY APARTMENT. I am officially in Posh Corps. I live in the center of a lovely town, several blocks from a pool, and I’m getting cheap internet in my apartment. So everyone, take note: get a skype account. I will be available to speak almost every day.
-Many things happened that I can’t talk about here, but were all unique and fun and crazy and life changing.
Of course, there are always down sides. I’m nervous with all of this work, facing my first real classes, and worried that everyone is going to find out that I don’t really know what I am talking about. The boy situation has turned sad, as he is leaving soon and I will miss his presence in my life. I am missing my best friend’s wedding in two weeks. I miss home like crazy, which is weird because I am so happy here, but it has just been a long time and I feel the pull of homesickness every day.
This is a beautiful place that I live in. I am happy in Ecuador.
Nine weeks until December 15th!
It’s been far too long since I updated my blog, but life has been crazy and busy and crazy and busy and fantastic.
I moved out of my previous town and into Patate, which has changed things so completely that I can’t even express it in words. My apartment is amazing, I have work flooding in from all sides, and have been having adventures like it’s nobody’s business. I met a guy, but that’s a whole other story that I won’t be getting into here (he’s leaving soon, anyway.) I’ve been in a cloud forest and traveled around and done so many, many things that I’ll have to tell you all about when I see you.
Memorable moments:
-The grad school fair in Quito was amazing, and totally changed my outlook on what I want to go to graduate school for. My choice now: a dual degree in international relations and journalism. There are several great schools that offer dual degrees like this, including the University of Syracruse, U of Denver, and American.
-I got into the Anti-TIPS task force, a Peace Corps group that fights human trafficking in Ecuador. We meet for the first time next month in Guayaquil!
- I was in my very first earthquake! The whole room shook and things fell off the shelf. I had to run under a doorway to be safe, but it wasn’t that bad so there was no danger. Actually it was all very exciting.
- I have work in several communities, one of which is in a cloud forest. I have almost too much work to do at the moment, and I might have to start turning people down soon. I’m also working with a conservation group, which has taken the place in my life that the Red Cross was supposed to take. They help me and take me to communities and work with me every step along the way. They are my saving grace.
-Reconnect was a long week of lectures, but we had some good times, and at the end of it almost everyone from our Omnibus came to Rio Bamba for the weekend.
-I went to my first Ecuadorian wedding last night, for the daughter of the family that I am very close to in Patate. It was beautiful and very western with the bride in a white dress and a solemn ceremony.
-I AM GETTING INTERNET IN MY APARTMENT. I am officially in Posh Corps. I live in the center of a lovely town, several blocks from a pool, and I’m getting cheap internet in my apartment. So everyone, take note: get a skype account. I will be available to speak almost every day.
-Many things happened that I can’t talk about here, but were all unique and fun and crazy and life changing.
Of course, there are always down sides. I’m nervous with all of this work, facing my first real classes, and worried that everyone is going to find out that I don’t really know what I am talking about. The boy situation has turned sad, as he is leaving soon and I will miss his presence in my life. I am missing my best friend’s wedding in two weeks. I miss home like crazy, which is weird because I am so happy here, but it has just been a long time and I feel the pull of homesickness every day.
This is a beautiful place that I live in. I am happy in Ecuador.
Nine weeks until December 15th!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Destiny, John, is a Fickle Bitch
Okay, so maybe my last entry was a little depressing. Truth is, I’ve been a little depressed lately. It took making myself sick in Tena to allow myself to admit: I’ve been depressed. And I’m okay with that. In fact, isn’t it a right of passage in the Peace Corps, to go through the U-Curve and be a little depressed and culture-shocky for a while before rising up, phoenix-like, stronger than before and able to deal with anything life hands you?
Yeah, I’m choosing to look at it like that. Phoenix Sarah. That’s me.
And it’s ending, because the truth is, life is about to get a whole lot better really soon, and really fast. At the moment I’m still in my house in LV, spending my days alone and marginally crazy, but yes! September, the month of change and awesomeness, is in a few days. And then…
I found an apartment! And it’s been approved! It’s amazing and I love it and I want to give it kisses and snuggles. It is in Patate, perched on the roof of a three story building overlooking the beautiful central park, which means that I will have the whole roof to myself, which also means that I will be able to eat/lay in my hammock/write/watch tv on my laptop/do yoga/mediate/ do anything I freaking want to outside, without anyone being able to see me or stare at me or anything! I am right near the internet café, the central park, the weekly market, G and G’s house (the lovely family who has kept me sane here), the bus stop, the bakery, everything. There is even a gym in Patate, but I have to check it out, because it’s probably pretty skanky.
I will still try and do work in my current community, but there is no reason for me to live here. In fact, it’s even detrimental to my other work, considering how hard it is to get to town and how expensive it is to get a car back. In Patate, there is even talk of my working with women’s groups on things like food production and family gardens, among the million other possibilities that will open up to me once I live there.
Though part of me does feel bad, with thoughts like, “if I had just stuck it out a little bit longer, could I really have integrated? Could I have made this village my own, been accepted into the community, done some real good?” but then I realize that I’ve been giving it my all for four months with no success, and honestly, my mental health needs this. I need this. And even though, or especially because, I’m in the Peace Corps, far from home trying to do some good in this world, I need to come first. This will make me happy. I need this.
(On a side note: I discovered the other day that no one has been visiting me, and simply staring at me from the end of my path, because my landlord has been telling them that they are not allowed to come to my house for any reason! That no one but his family can visit me! I’m heard some really not-nice things about my landlord. I’ve tried to correct this prohibition, but still…chalk it up to one more reason to hightail it out of here.)
So, the apartment is still being fixed up, and will hopefully be ready just in time for the fiestas de cantonizacion in Patate, the festival of the founding of the town. It’s a really big deal, and I think that there will be parades and fireworks. One more great thing about September.
More good September news: On the 7th there is a graduate school fair for international studies in Quito that I’m going to try and go to. Schools like Harvard and Georgetown will be represented, and I’m really excited and curious to hear about what kind of programs and job opportunities are out there for someone who wants to spend their whole life traveling. I still have Goucher’s nonfiction writing MFA as my first choice, but it’s nice to have an open mind.
Also: Reconnect! Sadly, not with the whole Omnibus, but it will be a fun week in Rio Bamba nonetheless.
Also: School starts! Enter Sarah: English teacher of small children (made all the more interesting/scary by the fact that I don’t really like small children), agricultural helper of high schoolers and an elementary ecological club, working side by side with teachers, doctors, Red Cross volunteers, missionaries, and guitar-playing nuns. Life is going to be interesting.
Also: It will be only three months until I go home for Christmas, and I will be able to finally buy my plane ticket and have a set date!
Three cheers for September!
God, I need this.
In other news, when I wasn’t sick, Tena was awesome. What a great cluster. Dan and Laurel = my heroes. Sarah K’s puppy = adorable. The weather = heaven. The city = clean and beautiful.
We went caving at Sarah K’s site. Headlamps, swimming through underground pools and climbing up underground waterfalls, bats flitting about overhead, the air cool and damp: it was an adventure. At one point as we moved onward, Sarah K paused and looked at a massive heap of rocks, musing: “hmmm, that wasn’t there the other day. It looks a whole section of the ceiling just caved in.”
To which we all replied: “WHAT????”
She said: “You guys want to keep going down this way?”
“HELL NO!”
So we went down another “arm” of the caves, one that tourists don’t usually go down, and it wasn’t until we had climbed up a steep, slippery hill to stand on a large plateau that Sarah K said: “Oh yeah, these are the spider caves. There are SO MANY down here. And they are super poisonous too. Kind of spider-scorpions. But spiders. Big ones. Really big. Huge.”
And then, shining a light on the wall, Mike goes: “Oh yeah. Here’s one.”
Dan: “Wow, I can see it from all the way over here.”
Mike: “Here’s another one. And another. Here’s one. Here’s one. Here’s one.”
Someone else: “Wow, there are like ten spiders on that wall alone.”
Me: (Hyperventilating) Have I mentioned that I have really bad arachnophobia?
Sarah K: Okay, now everyone turn out your headlamps and let’s stand in the dark! I want to tell a story.
Me: (Hyperventilating) Have I mentioned that I have really bad arachnophobia?!!!
Everyone: Oh, come on, it’s okay, they’re all the way over on that wall, they’re more scared of you than you are of them, we’ll only be in the dark for a second, etc etc…
Me: (Hyperventilating) HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I HAVE REALLY BAD ARACHNOPHOBIA?????
In the end (and I’m so proud of myself) I turned off my headlamp and stood in the dark, though I have to admit I was prancing around like a nervous horse, lifting my feet in a strange kind of dance to discourage any large spider-scorpions from mistaking my leg for a stalagmite. And I got through it! I’ve come a long, long way from how bad this fear used to be. However, it didn’t help that as we walked back Mike kept looking around and saying, “There’s one, there’s one…”
So I survived the spider caves! I am a brave warrior.
I think that is the theme of this entry: I am a brave warrior. Brave, brave, brave warrior.
One final note: I never mean to upset or scare anyone with these blog entries. Please, my loving family and friends, be assured that I am safe and taking very good care of myself. I am in no danger, not in my site or anywhere in Ecuador. Please, don’t take my rants as a reason to worry about me. I am a brave warrior.
That being said, it’s nice to know that people love me enough to worry. I’m deeply sorry for causing you anxiety, Uncle Charlie, and I hope to see you and the whole family at Christmas. I love you.
I love all of you.
Yeah, I’m choosing to look at it like that. Phoenix Sarah. That’s me.
And it’s ending, because the truth is, life is about to get a whole lot better really soon, and really fast. At the moment I’m still in my house in LV, spending my days alone and marginally crazy, but yes! September, the month of change and awesomeness, is in a few days. And then…
I found an apartment! And it’s been approved! It’s amazing and I love it and I want to give it kisses and snuggles. It is in Patate, perched on the roof of a three story building overlooking the beautiful central park, which means that I will have the whole roof to myself, which also means that I will be able to eat/lay in my hammock/write/watch tv on my laptop/do yoga/mediate/ do anything I freaking want to outside, without anyone being able to see me or stare at me or anything! I am right near the internet café, the central park, the weekly market, G and G’s house (the lovely family who has kept me sane here), the bus stop, the bakery, everything. There is even a gym in Patate, but I have to check it out, because it’s probably pretty skanky.
I will still try and do work in my current community, but there is no reason for me to live here. In fact, it’s even detrimental to my other work, considering how hard it is to get to town and how expensive it is to get a car back. In Patate, there is even talk of my working with women’s groups on things like food production and family gardens, among the million other possibilities that will open up to me once I live there.
Though part of me does feel bad, with thoughts like, “if I had just stuck it out a little bit longer, could I really have integrated? Could I have made this village my own, been accepted into the community, done some real good?” but then I realize that I’ve been giving it my all for four months with no success, and honestly, my mental health needs this. I need this. And even though, or especially because, I’m in the Peace Corps, far from home trying to do some good in this world, I need to come first. This will make me happy. I need this.
(On a side note: I discovered the other day that no one has been visiting me, and simply staring at me from the end of my path, because my landlord has been telling them that they are not allowed to come to my house for any reason! That no one but his family can visit me! I’m heard some really not-nice things about my landlord. I’ve tried to correct this prohibition, but still…chalk it up to one more reason to hightail it out of here.)
So, the apartment is still being fixed up, and will hopefully be ready just in time for the fiestas de cantonizacion in Patate, the festival of the founding of the town. It’s a really big deal, and I think that there will be parades and fireworks. One more great thing about September.
More good September news: On the 7th there is a graduate school fair for international studies in Quito that I’m going to try and go to. Schools like Harvard and Georgetown will be represented, and I’m really excited and curious to hear about what kind of programs and job opportunities are out there for someone who wants to spend their whole life traveling. I still have Goucher’s nonfiction writing MFA as my first choice, but it’s nice to have an open mind.
Also: Reconnect! Sadly, not with the whole Omnibus, but it will be a fun week in Rio Bamba nonetheless.
Also: School starts! Enter Sarah: English teacher of small children (made all the more interesting/scary by the fact that I don’t really like small children), agricultural helper of high schoolers and an elementary ecological club, working side by side with teachers, doctors, Red Cross volunteers, missionaries, and guitar-playing nuns. Life is going to be interesting.
Also: It will be only three months until I go home for Christmas, and I will be able to finally buy my plane ticket and have a set date!
Three cheers for September!
God, I need this.
In other news, when I wasn’t sick, Tena was awesome. What a great cluster. Dan and Laurel = my heroes. Sarah K’s puppy = adorable. The weather = heaven. The city = clean and beautiful.
We went caving at Sarah K’s site. Headlamps, swimming through underground pools and climbing up underground waterfalls, bats flitting about overhead, the air cool and damp: it was an adventure. At one point as we moved onward, Sarah K paused and looked at a massive heap of rocks, musing: “hmmm, that wasn’t there the other day. It looks a whole section of the ceiling just caved in.”
To which we all replied: “WHAT????”
She said: “You guys want to keep going down this way?”
“HELL NO!”
So we went down another “arm” of the caves, one that tourists don’t usually go down, and it wasn’t until we had climbed up a steep, slippery hill to stand on a large plateau that Sarah K said: “Oh yeah, these are the spider caves. There are SO MANY down here. And they are super poisonous too. Kind of spider-scorpions. But spiders. Big ones. Really big. Huge.”
And then, shining a light on the wall, Mike goes: “Oh yeah. Here’s one.”
Dan: “Wow, I can see it from all the way over here.”
Mike: “Here’s another one. And another. Here’s one. Here’s one. Here’s one.”
Someone else: “Wow, there are like ten spiders on that wall alone.”
Me: (Hyperventilating) Have I mentioned that I have really bad arachnophobia?
Sarah K: Okay, now everyone turn out your headlamps and let’s stand in the dark! I want to tell a story.
Me: (Hyperventilating) Have I mentioned that I have really bad arachnophobia?!!!
Everyone: Oh, come on, it’s okay, they’re all the way over on that wall, they’re more scared of you than you are of them, we’ll only be in the dark for a second, etc etc…
Me: (Hyperventilating) HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I HAVE REALLY BAD ARACHNOPHOBIA?????
In the end (and I’m so proud of myself) I turned off my headlamp and stood in the dark, though I have to admit I was prancing around like a nervous horse, lifting my feet in a strange kind of dance to discourage any large spider-scorpions from mistaking my leg for a stalagmite. And I got through it! I’ve come a long, long way from how bad this fear used to be. However, it didn’t help that as we walked back Mike kept looking around and saying, “There’s one, there’s one…”
So I survived the spider caves! I am a brave warrior.
I think that is the theme of this entry: I am a brave warrior. Brave, brave, brave warrior.
One final note: I never mean to upset or scare anyone with these blog entries. Please, my loving family and friends, be assured that I am safe and taking very good care of myself. I am in no danger, not in my site or anywhere in Ecuador. Please, don’t take my rants as a reason to worry about me. I am a brave warrior.
That being said, it’s nice to know that people love me enough to worry. I’m deeply sorry for causing you anxiety, Uncle Charlie, and I hope to see you and the whole family at Christmas. I love you.
I love all of you.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
No witty title today, kids
It’s another long day in my community, and I am going a little out of my mind. I haven’t written in this blog for the past month for the simple fact that there has been nothing to write about. Things are not going particularly well in my community, and in fact I just received permission to start looking for a house in Patate.
My community is unreceptive, uncaring, and never in their homes. Doing my CAT tools is practically impossible, because even when I do track down people they tell me it is not a good time, and when I go to their house at the time they tell me to, they are not there. When we set up meetings, and I let the community choose the day and time and everyone agrees to show up, no one does. Not a single person.
Plus, despite the fact that I have been here several months, the whole “fishbowl” effect isn’t waning. If I leave my door open people regularly camp out in their free time at the end of the path facing my house and stare at me. Don’t come to say hello, don’t wave back if I wave, don’t talk to me, nothing. They just stare. For hours, as I sit at my table or do my dishes. It’s unnerving, and I’m getting tired of it.
I hear stories of other communities, where people get invited to houses for lunch or for a cafecito, or to do something with the family, or something. Not here. There are a few nice people but honestly, people either act like I am bothering them or they laugh at me, openly laugh at me to the point that I’ve stopped sitting at the soccer court in the afternoons because no one talks to me or responds to my attempts at conversation but instead just shoots me grins and whispers and laughs in my direction.
So I’m thrilled to start the house hunt in Patate. Patate is beautiful, clean, with openly friendly people who, even though I don’t live in town, invite me to their houses all the time. There is a great family that I am already friends with, and it is safe, tranquil, with significantly less drinking. Most of my work is in Patate anyway, and some might be in Pelileo, the Red Cross is based in Patate, my counterpart is in Patate, and most of my integration is in Patate. All I need to do is find a house for rent, get someone from the PC here, and get it approved. I’m hoping, if all goes well, I can move out of here in maybe two months. We will see.
In other news, I’ve had some good times. Mostly I’ve been under house arrest and blisteringly bored (writing a lot), waiting for this government visit that has never happened. But Joyce came to visit me, and we had a great time just talking and relaxing. Then I visited her in Puyo, which I actually quite like, for its warmth and “jungle town” feel. We went to this little piece of jungle in the city that an American married to a Shuar woman set up, and took his tour where he talked in depth about various indigenous cultures and medicinal plants. It was fascinating. I’m starting to regret that I didn’t ask to be placed in the jungle, where the indigenous cultures are so unique. The anthropologist in me wants to study them.
Josh visited too, this past weekend, which was really fun except for the fact that nothing went right: The “waterfall” hike we went on had no waterfall and wasn’t much of a hike, and then the stocked fishing pond was all out of fish that day! We mostly wandered and talked the whole time, and I cooked a lot.
One of the great things about his visit was, once again, getting to see the sweetness and generosity of the Ecuadorian people. When a group of girls carrying bunches of carnations passed, and I commented on how pretty the flowers were, they gave me some. When we walked by a granadilla farm, the farmer gave us an armful. Moments like this just make me brim with happiness.
We will see where the next months take me. At the very least, I know that when school starts in September and my work revs up, life will be purposeful and less boring. For now, I’m house hunting and trying to organize talks that people will actually show up to. We’ll see how it goes.
PS: Sarah’s book reviews:
Book I Was Disappointed In But You Should Really Read Anyway:
“Confessions of an Economic Hitman” : Fascinating premise, shockingly real, and contains information that everyone in the world should be aware of. It makes international politics and what is happening in the world so much clearer. However, it is poorly written by a selfish, navel-gazing, narcissistic author who muses and justifies with very little exciting action. Still, read it, for the information alone. And don’t feel bad if you think he is a selfish prick. He is.
Book I Picked Up On A Whim And Turned Out To Be One Of The Best I’ve Ever Read:
“Savages” : If you have any interest in ancient cultures, anthropology, the destruction of the Amazon rainforest, oil companies, Ecuador, South America in general, or if you just want to read some of the most gripping and beautiful prose ever, pick this book up. It’s about how the fierce and fading Huaroni people are fighting the big oil companies to preserve the rainforest and their culture, and just what exactly oil drilling is really doing to the forest and people of Ecuador. It is sad and shocking and fascinating and makes you want to go to the rainforest yourself and fight this. Please, read it. And then do something about it.
Hasta pronto!
My community is unreceptive, uncaring, and never in their homes. Doing my CAT tools is practically impossible, because even when I do track down people they tell me it is not a good time, and when I go to their house at the time they tell me to, they are not there. When we set up meetings, and I let the community choose the day and time and everyone agrees to show up, no one does. Not a single person.
Plus, despite the fact that I have been here several months, the whole “fishbowl” effect isn’t waning. If I leave my door open people regularly camp out in their free time at the end of the path facing my house and stare at me. Don’t come to say hello, don’t wave back if I wave, don’t talk to me, nothing. They just stare. For hours, as I sit at my table or do my dishes. It’s unnerving, and I’m getting tired of it.
I hear stories of other communities, where people get invited to houses for lunch or for a cafecito, or to do something with the family, or something. Not here. There are a few nice people but honestly, people either act like I am bothering them or they laugh at me, openly laugh at me to the point that I’ve stopped sitting at the soccer court in the afternoons because no one talks to me or responds to my attempts at conversation but instead just shoots me grins and whispers and laughs in my direction.
So I’m thrilled to start the house hunt in Patate. Patate is beautiful, clean, with openly friendly people who, even though I don’t live in town, invite me to their houses all the time. There is a great family that I am already friends with, and it is safe, tranquil, with significantly less drinking. Most of my work is in Patate anyway, and some might be in Pelileo, the Red Cross is based in Patate, my counterpart is in Patate, and most of my integration is in Patate. All I need to do is find a house for rent, get someone from the PC here, and get it approved. I’m hoping, if all goes well, I can move out of here in maybe two months. We will see.
In other news, I’ve had some good times. Mostly I’ve been under house arrest and blisteringly bored (writing a lot), waiting for this government visit that has never happened. But Joyce came to visit me, and we had a great time just talking and relaxing. Then I visited her in Puyo, which I actually quite like, for its warmth and “jungle town” feel. We went to this little piece of jungle in the city that an American married to a Shuar woman set up, and took his tour where he talked in depth about various indigenous cultures and medicinal plants. It was fascinating. I’m starting to regret that I didn’t ask to be placed in the jungle, where the indigenous cultures are so unique. The anthropologist in me wants to study them.
Josh visited too, this past weekend, which was really fun except for the fact that nothing went right: The “waterfall” hike we went on had no waterfall and wasn’t much of a hike, and then the stocked fishing pond was all out of fish that day! We mostly wandered and talked the whole time, and I cooked a lot.
One of the great things about his visit was, once again, getting to see the sweetness and generosity of the Ecuadorian people. When a group of girls carrying bunches of carnations passed, and I commented on how pretty the flowers were, they gave me some. When we walked by a granadilla farm, the farmer gave us an armful. Moments like this just make me brim with happiness.
We will see where the next months take me. At the very least, I know that when school starts in September and my work revs up, life will be purposeful and less boring. For now, I’m house hunting and trying to organize talks that people will actually show up to. We’ll see how it goes.
PS: Sarah’s book reviews:
Book I Was Disappointed In But You Should Really Read Anyway:
“Confessions of an Economic Hitman” : Fascinating premise, shockingly real, and contains information that everyone in the world should be aware of. It makes international politics and what is happening in the world so much clearer. However, it is poorly written by a selfish, navel-gazing, narcissistic author who muses and justifies with very little exciting action. Still, read it, for the information alone. And don’t feel bad if you think he is a selfish prick. He is.
Book I Picked Up On A Whim And Turned Out To Be One Of The Best I’ve Ever Read:
“Savages” : If you have any interest in ancient cultures, anthropology, the destruction of the Amazon rainforest, oil companies, Ecuador, South America in general, or if you just want to read some of the most gripping and beautiful prose ever, pick this book up. It’s about how the fierce and fading Huaroni people are fighting the big oil companies to preserve the rainforest and their culture, and just what exactly oil drilling is really doing to the forest and people of Ecuador. It is sad and shocking and fascinating and makes you want to go to the rainforest yourself and fight this. Please, read it. And then do something about it.
Hasta pronto!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Happy 4th of July!
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.4th of July in Ecuador/Rio Bamba included: Gringos, Americans, Canadians, English, Volleyball, Hamburgers, Hot dogs, Potato Salad, Fireworks (so close we were peppered with falling debris), Hot Chocolate, Friends, and Love. Just as it should be.
Complete with Declaration of Independence.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Bra: Better Than a Purse
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.
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.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Paranoia is a healthy belief that just might save your ass someday…
I wasn’t going to write again for at least a week or two but I wanted to talk about an incident that happened to me a few nights ago. Two incidents, actually.
To start off, Ecuadorians don’t understand or appreciate a good healthy dose of paranoia, especially in small towns or in the country. No matter how many times you explain to them why don’t want to walk alone at night (I’m a gringa, I’m a stranger, I have a clearly visible bag, I’m blonde, for God’s sake) or why you want more security/locks in your house (I’m a gringa, a stranger, wealthier than all of the people in this community combined, living alone with few neighbors in the middle of a field), they will shake their heads at you. Silly gringa, why are you worried. Nothing happens here. It is muy tranquilla.
If one more person says that I don’t have to worry because an area is muy tranquilla, y no pasa nada, I am going to strangle them.
Also, you have to understand, I am the most paranoid person I know. Not crazy, just with a fierce desire for nothing to ever happen to me that I could have prevented. I like feeling in control, and not placing myself in dangerous situations keeps me feeling safe. In Spain I missed out on fun nights because I refused to get in a car with a bunch of strange guys, or go home with strangers; in Pittsburgh I walked at night with mace and didn’t get into a car with a stranger even to go through a drive through at night when ordering on foot wasn’t allowed. In Ecuador I don’t walk alone at night, I carry my leatherman in my pocket so that I feel more secure, and I instinctively size up anyone I’m speaking to. I’m decently trained in martial arts and have taken an intense self defense class. I sleep with a knife under my bed. I take my security safely.
In Ecuador, this has even heightened. It is a machista culture, where men are men and women are good little subservient housewives, especially in the campo. American women are seen as easy, especially as they speak more openly with men. Men don’t look at you; they leer. Comments are made. You are the butt of jokes you are glad you don’t understand. I love Ecuador, but I could never date anyone from here. No offense. The culture is just too steeped in gender differences for me to take.
The people in my community are pretty tranquillo, hard working, and appear to be even keeled. Except on the weekends, when they drink. Last weekend, in the middle of the afternoon, I saw several men so drunk they were either passed our or weaving dangerously as they walked. I’ve seen people smashed, but nothing like I see here. Also, everyone goes to bed at 8:00 pm, except for the weekend drunks, who stay up a bit later. Even so, 11:00 is usually the latest, because even on weekends there are still animals to care for in the mornings and work to be done.
On Sunday night, a little after midnight, I was sound asleep in my bed when the pounding started on my front door. I jerked away, my hand instinctively going to the knife under my mattress, and just stayed very still. I figured that whoever it was would give up after a minute or two and leave me in peace.
Not so. Over half an hour passed of insistent pounding, and then I saw someone circling the house and shining a flashlight through the drawn curtains in my bedroom window. They circled the house, then began to hit the door again.
Here I should probably insert that my inside door to my bedroom still doesn’t have a knob or a lock on it, so if anyone gets through the front door, I have no protection.
Finally I got up, understanding that the person wasn’t going to go away. I was tired and it was pitch black in the house, but I didn’t want to draw any more attention by turning on a light. So I put my sneakers on in the dark, just in case, grabbed my knife, just in case, locked my drawer with all of my valuables in it, and shoved my phone into my bra with some money. Just in case. I then went to the window and yelled through it.
“Go away, I was sleeping, leave me alone,” I said, in kinda shitty Spanish. It was a drunk man on my doorstep, one I had never seen before.
“Let me in, I just want to sleep!” he yelled. “This is my house, I always sleep here. Don Victor (my landlord) knows this. I usually have a key. Let me in!”
“No!” I snapped. “Please, just go away and don’t bother me. I’m not opening this door.”
He kept arguing with me for a few more minutes, insisting that he often slept in my house and that I was being a bitch for not letting him in. He kept asking me, why not? At one point he asked if I were afraid, but I didn’t answer. I just finally shouted that I was leaving the window and the conversation was over.
Even though there was no noise after that, I was still so freaked out that I was shaking. I thought, what if he was telling the truth and that my landlord would just let this random man have a key to my house? I had visions of drunk man rounding up his friends and returning to my door. I didn’t sleep well all night, my leatherman clutched in my hand in case of any disturbance.
When I spoke to my landlord about this, he had no idea who the man was. He said that no one ever sleeps in this house except for a daughter and sometimes a young son. He said it could have been just a drunk or an attempted robbery. Or worse.
So here’s the moral of the story, what the Peace Corps will already tell you during training: Never open the door for anyone at night. Anyone. No matter what they say, no matter what their reasons. Do. Not. Open. Your. Door.
What could I have done differently? Called someone. Now I know that I can call my landlord no matter what time of night it is and he will come and chase off anyone bothering me. I can also contact my counterpart, who, if the situation is scary, can come here with or without the police. I should also have opened my conversation with the man by saying that either the landlord/police were on their way. That would have chased him off good. As it is, I just had a scary experience that left a bad taste in my mouth the entire next day.
The second incident came the next day. I was in Patate and had stayed too long at the internet café, and it was dark out. Because I was bringing some supplies to the local high school the next day, I had my huge hiking backpack on, marking me clearly as some kind of tourist. To get to the house where I stay, I have to walk to where the road ends and turns into this massive set of stairs that goes up quite a way, and isn’t well lit. I noticed a car slow as I entered the stair street, and then go away.
I am indeed paranoid, especially with a hugely noticeable giant bag on my back at night, and had my knife out and hidden in my sleeve. When I got to the top and started walking to the house, I noticed a car coming up. Luckily the house is right at the top of the stairs, and I opened the gates and stepped inside. As I was doing this, I noticed the car slow to a stop and idle by the side of the road, but as I got inside it sped off. All I could think was that someone had seen me walking up the stairs and driven around to intercept me, but I reached the house before anything could be done. Paranoid? Yes. Possible? Definitely. I made myself and attractive target that night.
Moral? Be inside at night, no matter how tranquilla your town is, and if not, have someone walk with you. You never know what might happen.
These are my stories, and while they are not terribly thrilling, they made an impression on me, and I hope I can make an impression on whoever is reading this. You don’t have to be as paranoid as me, but for God’s sake, take care. Be alert. The last thing you want is for your Peace Corps adventure to end with bad memories, a robbery, or worse.
Really the moral is, don’t be stupid. And carry a knife.
To start off, Ecuadorians don’t understand or appreciate a good healthy dose of paranoia, especially in small towns or in the country. No matter how many times you explain to them why don’t want to walk alone at night (I’m a gringa, I’m a stranger, I have a clearly visible bag, I’m blonde, for God’s sake) or why you want more security/locks in your house (I’m a gringa, a stranger, wealthier than all of the people in this community combined, living alone with few neighbors in the middle of a field), they will shake their heads at you. Silly gringa, why are you worried. Nothing happens here. It is muy tranquilla.
If one more person says that I don’t have to worry because an area is muy tranquilla, y no pasa nada, I am going to strangle them.
Also, you have to understand, I am the most paranoid person I know. Not crazy, just with a fierce desire for nothing to ever happen to me that I could have prevented. I like feeling in control, and not placing myself in dangerous situations keeps me feeling safe. In Spain I missed out on fun nights because I refused to get in a car with a bunch of strange guys, or go home with strangers; in Pittsburgh I walked at night with mace and didn’t get into a car with a stranger even to go through a drive through at night when ordering on foot wasn’t allowed. In Ecuador I don’t walk alone at night, I carry my leatherman in my pocket so that I feel more secure, and I instinctively size up anyone I’m speaking to. I’m decently trained in martial arts and have taken an intense self defense class. I sleep with a knife under my bed. I take my security safely.
In Ecuador, this has even heightened. It is a machista culture, where men are men and women are good little subservient housewives, especially in the campo. American women are seen as easy, especially as they speak more openly with men. Men don’t look at you; they leer. Comments are made. You are the butt of jokes you are glad you don’t understand. I love Ecuador, but I could never date anyone from here. No offense. The culture is just too steeped in gender differences for me to take.
The people in my community are pretty tranquillo, hard working, and appear to be even keeled. Except on the weekends, when they drink. Last weekend, in the middle of the afternoon, I saw several men so drunk they were either passed our or weaving dangerously as they walked. I’ve seen people smashed, but nothing like I see here. Also, everyone goes to bed at 8:00 pm, except for the weekend drunks, who stay up a bit later. Even so, 11:00 is usually the latest, because even on weekends there are still animals to care for in the mornings and work to be done.
On Sunday night, a little after midnight, I was sound asleep in my bed when the pounding started on my front door. I jerked away, my hand instinctively going to the knife under my mattress, and just stayed very still. I figured that whoever it was would give up after a minute or two and leave me in peace.
Not so. Over half an hour passed of insistent pounding, and then I saw someone circling the house and shining a flashlight through the drawn curtains in my bedroom window. They circled the house, then began to hit the door again.
Here I should probably insert that my inside door to my bedroom still doesn’t have a knob or a lock on it, so if anyone gets through the front door, I have no protection.
Finally I got up, understanding that the person wasn’t going to go away. I was tired and it was pitch black in the house, but I didn’t want to draw any more attention by turning on a light. So I put my sneakers on in the dark, just in case, grabbed my knife, just in case, locked my drawer with all of my valuables in it, and shoved my phone into my bra with some money. Just in case. I then went to the window and yelled through it.
“Go away, I was sleeping, leave me alone,” I said, in kinda shitty Spanish. It was a drunk man on my doorstep, one I had never seen before.
“Let me in, I just want to sleep!” he yelled. “This is my house, I always sleep here. Don Victor (my landlord) knows this. I usually have a key. Let me in!”
“No!” I snapped. “Please, just go away and don’t bother me. I’m not opening this door.”
He kept arguing with me for a few more minutes, insisting that he often slept in my house and that I was being a bitch for not letting him in. He kept asking me, why not? At one point he asked if I were afraid, but I didn’t answer. I just finally shouted that I was leaving the window and the conversation was over.
Even though there was no noise after that, I was still so freaked out that I was shaking. I thought, what if he was telling the truth and that my landlord would just let this random man have a key to my house? I had visions of drunk man rounding up his friends and returning to my door. I didn’t sleep well all night, my leatherman clutched in my hand in case of any disturbance.
When I spoke to my landlord about this, he had no idea who the man was. He said that no one ever sleeps in this house except for a daughter and sometimes a young son. He said it could have been just a drunk or an attempted robbery. Or worse.
So here’s the moral of the story, what the Peace Corps will already tell you during training: Never open the door for anyone at night. Anyone. No matter what they say, no matter what their reasons. Do. Not. Open. Your. Door.
What could I have done differently? Called someone. Now I know that I can call my landlord no matter what time of night it is and he will come and chase off anyone bothering me. I can also contact my counterpart, who, if the situation is scary, can come here with or without the police. I should also have opened my conversation with the man by saying that either the landlord/police were on their way. That would have chased him off good. As it is, I just had a scary experience that left a bad taste in my mouth the entire next day.
The second incident came the next day. I was in Patate and had stayed too long at the internet café, and it was dark out. Because I was bringing some supplies to the local high school the next day, I had my huge hiking backpack on, marking me clearly as some kind of tourist. To get to the house where I stay, I have to walk to where the road ends and turns into this massive set of stairs that goes up quite a way, and isn’t well lit. I noticed a car slow as I entered the stair street, and then go away.
I am indeed paranoid, especially with a hugely noticeable giant bag on my back at night, and had my knife out and hidden in my sleeve. When I got to the top and started walking to the house, I noticed a car coming up. Luckily the house is right at the top of the stairs, and I opened the gates and stepped inside. As I was doing this, I noticed the car slow to a stop and idle by the side of the road, but as I got inside it sped off. All I could think was that someone had seen me walking up the stairs and driven around to intercept me, but I reached the house before anything could be done. Paranoid? Yes. Possible? Definitely. I made myself and attractive target that night.
Moral? Be inside at night, no matter how tranquilla your town is, and if not, have someone walk with you. You never know what might happen.
These are my stories, and while they are not terribly thrilling, they made an impression on me, and I hope I can make an impression on whoever is reading this. You don’t have to be as paranoid as me, but for God’s sake, take care. Be alert. The last thing you want is for your Peace Corps adventure to end with bad memories, a robbery, or worse.
Really the moral is, don’t be stupid. And carry a knife.
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