Los Desafíos

I've been home for two weeks now and am enjoying it immensely. I have one more blog coming about the weird things about being home. But first, the long promised "Studying Abroad may be one of the hardest things you ever do!" post...

Being abroad is not easy by any stretch of the imagination. You are living far away from home for many months, studying, adventuring, and learning a ton (different than studying). There are two types of challenges that I’ve come to understand: the normal-abroad-is-hard challenges, and then there’s the this-really-isn’t-okay type of challenges. I don’t want to deceive you by only cataloging my grand adventures and fun experiences. It was incredibly hard.

For one, everything was in Spanish. It felt relentless as I tried to listen, understand, and respond appropriately and with the correct timing. I got so tired of being constantly corrected before I got my full thought out. Did you get the gist of what I was saying??? Then let me finish and correct me after!! Of course, that did help in the end as I feel pretty confident in my Spanish skills. Traveling around Quito and then Ecuador was also a bit challenging, especially at first. Quito is huge and has the worst (constant) traffic I have ever experienced. One time I ran on the road that my bus went on and it was 2.5 miles to get somewhere that took nearly an hour on the bus. The buses are always crammed full to the point where it’s hard to see out the window for your stop. And then of course everyone is staring at the weird looking white gringa. After a couple weeks the buses stopped being scary and just continued being boring. I even got on the wrong bus a few times and was able to navigate myself back where I wanted to be. Traveling around Ecuador usually included buses anywhere from 8 to 12+ hours long. The other huge thing is the safety trainings. They’re ridiculous! I mean, I understand why they’re helpful and I followed mostly what they said and nothing bad happened to me in the city so I can see why they’re important, but still! I swear I thought I was going to be sequestered every time I got in cab – and I was only taking legal ones! So silly. Another challenge was the food. I liked Ecuadorian food so long as it didn’t include things I was allergic to or rancid meat, but even food you like gets tiring when it’s not YOUR food. I ate enough Oreos to last me a lifetime because they were an easy and familiar snack when I was missing food I knew. Lastly of course, I missed my family and my friends. I was lucky to have connection to internet when I needed it and thus could keep in touch, but I still felt very far away from the going-on's at home.

So those are more general struggles about being abroad. However, everyone has their own unique challenges as well. I’ve included a bit of mine because it had a huge impact on my experience abroad and also this is my blog and I want to be honest.

It took me a long time to figure out what was going on and that what was happening wasn’t normal. I blamed my bad experiences and general dislike of most of my time on not being used to a big city, on my boring Spanish class, the fact people stared at me on the bus, and my fear of throwing up in taxis after the “chocho incident” in February that resulted in that new talent I had spoken of. (The talent is puking profusely from within a taxi without actually getting any in or on the taxi.) Anyway, if you’re ever abroad and things are just really really bad, I suggest analyzing every piece. I felt so much like my problems were due to my lack of ability or personal weaknesses. Somehow I couldn’t connect that my fears crept in most as I headed back to the house or that my constant nausea might be due to bad food/food handling rather than being afraid and nervous.

I don’t want to go into details, because my first host family members are real people, but it became very obvious that the family and the family environment were the causes of my issues. I’m not going to put up the full story here, [but yes, host mom, I am still allergic to said food even after it's ground up and hidden in a soup. And, no, a roll of bread is NOT sufficient for an entire lunch]. Anyway, it got to the point where I had three countdowns to come home (leave Quito, arrive in America, arrive at my house), a tab open to constantly check for flights out of Quito, and I was spending any minute away from that house that I could. The worst was one Wednesday night when (sorry Mom) I called my mom sobbing and told her that I needed to go home right away. I couldn’t and wouldn’t stay for the last two months. Thankfully my mom talked me down (with the help of two dear friends [sorry Lily and Errin] who had happened to be over at our house when I called). My mom reminded me that, after way too much drama I had finally, with the help of the incredible girls on my abroad (especially one of the best emails ever written thanks to dear Brianne), got our director to agree to switch me into a new host family. Because of the urgency of my situation, I would be moving into Brianne’s house the next day and then in with the new family during the weekend. At that point though, I had been successfully convinced that it was my problem and my weakness and even with the new host family, I would still have all the same issues.

Note here: everything all the way down to my health improved the second I got out of the first house. My experience had a complete rebirth and I was able to understand that I was not the problem. Of course, there are things I could have done better and I learned and grew a ton from my experience, but I should never have been in the situation I was. For me, it was a good wake-up call. We are so much stronger than we think we are and I need to be careful about what I let other people make me feel.

Here’s a special shout out to the 7 other girls on my abroad that helped me survive the months that I thought I couldn’t. And especially Brianne who let me live in her house and reassured me if I panicked about food and also introduced me to the song that, through it’s apt lyrics “let’s go out and find ourselves a home,” gave me that spark of hope that things would be okay. (Song included for your listening pleasure).

El día en la selva

[Note: this was written on Sunday, January 18, 2015 about Saturday January 17, 2015]




As I cruised over the Ecuadorian jungle hooked onto a cable with a carabiner that I had attached myself, I couldn’t help but wonder how I had gotten there.

Let me back up a little bit. On probably Monday (Jan 12) or Tuesday (Jan 13) Host Mom and Host Brother and I were sitting and eating and talking when Host Mom asked me if I liked nature. I told her that yes I liked nature a lot. Excitedly, she told me that we would be going on a “paseo” (which I knew to mean walk) in nature. Understandably, I assumed this meant we would be going on a hike with some other families in the neighborhood. 

Throughout the week I heard from Lilly and Caroline, the other two Pitzer chicas in my neighborhood, slightly different stories. Apparently Lilly’s family owns a property in the jungle and we’d be going there and there was potentially zip-lining and horseback riding. To be honest, though I believed Lilly, I was stubborn enough to still be convinced I would be hiking.

Back to Saturday. Host Mom had told me to sleep in until 8 or so for a 8:25 breakfast. Host Baby woke me up around 7:30, but I stayed in bed for a while and the morning ended up rushing by. By the time I ended up downstairs, the whole family was around sitting around the table. I was shocked, not just because usually I’m the first, but more because Host Dad was sitting at the table. I hadn’t seen Host Dad since the day they picked me up from the hotel. We ate rather quickly and I discovered that my host family did not actually eat the seeds of grapes, which I had been unsure about so had just been eating. This spiraled me into a minor breakdown about whether or not grape seeds are toxic (rest assured, they are not). 

We all piled into the car with Host Baby on Host Sister’s lap in the middle seat and took off. It has since occurred to me that I was pretty easy going. If it had been in the United States or my own family I would have asked a million questions and probably been grumpy if I didn’t feel my questions were answered sufficiently, but I couldn’t do that here so I just went with it.

We drove out of Quito towards the mountains for a while. About an hour into it, we pulled over to the side of the mountainous road and Host Mom explained to me that her brother-in-law was building a house up the mountain and that Host Dad, Host Brother and I were going to see it. Up for the adventure, I threw on my sweatshirt and ran over to the red truck parked at the bottom of a steep dirt road. We began our ascent up the mountain, stopping only to allow a few more people to hop in. It had rained the day before so we didn’t drive up the road so much as skid and slid up it. I’m slightly used to being a passenger on rough terrain due my time in Nebraska, so I was simultaneously grinning and praying the whole time. We made it to the open where the land opened up to reveal stunning mountains delving into ravines of jungle. It was gorgeous. We got out of the car and the men walked over to where the house was being built to assess something or other. There were cows wandering around, so naturally I wandered with them. I took some cow-selfies and many more pictures. That kind of view is my favorite kind of beautiful. Unfortunately we had to get back on our way to whatever was in store for us, so we slid back down the mountain road in the truck. Going down was worse than going up, but look! I lived to tell the tale.

We continued our drive into the depths of Ecuadorian mountains and each turn revealed an even more gorgeous view. The trees on the mountains looked as though they had returned home after a long day and slouched over their couches. After being told so many times that it became a joke that the house was “just around this little turn,” we finally made it. I managed to get to the bathroom, change into the rain boots we had brought, and put on both sunscreen and bug spray before being loaded onto a sideways one-person ski-lift typed deal with Lilly and Ami (another PZ person) next to me. (Caroline, sadly, was unable to come because she wasn’t feeling well). The chairs didn’t take us too far up the mountain, but judging by the sounds that they were making as they carried us to the platform, I don’t think they could have taken us much further. All the children and a few of the adults came up this way while a couple of the other parents hiked up to meet us at the platform. We then took off into the jungle. We hiked for a tiny bit and ran into a zipline, but were told that it was closed, so we continued hiking.

For me, time doesn’t exist here as much. I don’t know how long we were driving or hiking or eating or anything. We just move on to the next thing when we get there. This is a great lesson for me.

Eventually we did get to a zipline that was apparently not closed. With our gear (harness, rope, and pulley) on we zoomed off. There was someone who had done this before at the beginning and at the end to catch us, but it certainly wasn’t the most obviously secure activity. We knew it was safe because our host families wouldn’t have brought us here if it wasn’t, but at the same time I was glad my mom wouldn’t know about it until I was back safely at my house. There were six lines and they were incredible. We got to zip over a waterfall one way and then on the other we had a crystal clear view of the region below us. It was absolutely stunning.

By the last few we were hooking ourselves to the cables. When someone got stuck in the middle, we threw them a rope to catch. When someone accidentally let their pulley go without attaching themselves while standing on the starting platform, we sent the next person out with a push to get them and the pulley to the other side and then sent someone else back with two pulleys. We were all safe, but it seemed like a creative safe.

When we arrived at the last point we were told that we were late for lunch and we needed to hurry back through the jungle to get to the house. We had been hearing about “las truchas” the whole day. Apparently it’s a salmon/trout typed fish that is only in this region. After a filling soup we were each given a large section of fish. I took a huge bite, excited to try it. Excited, but also naïve, as I hadn’t thought about the fact that the fish would still have its bones in it. I began picking the bones out of my mouth slowly. Host Mom looked across the table at me right after I’d swallowed my first bite and told me to be careful of the bones. “Excellent, will do.” I ate the rest of the fish much more slowly and enjoyed it immensely. My favorite part of lunch, however, was dessert. It’s going to sound weird, but it was actually delicious. It was a bowl with half a peach in it filled with vanilla ice cream with oreos crushed into it. It tasted like peach cobbler with oreo for the crust. I ate mine happily and then I ate Lilly’s because she was full and I couldn’t let that go to waste. I have missed ice cream a lot.

After lunch we went on two mini hikes. Neither time did we know where we were going before we left. The first we ended up at a look out spot that we climbed up and searched in the jungle for signs of life with binoculars. The second one was to the waterfall that we had ziplined over. Both were beautiful. When we returned the moms made fun of me for taking so many pictures. When we had hiked back up to the house from the waterfall, we were asked if we wanted to ride horses. My answer was that of course I did, so we walked back down the massive hill to where the horses were kept. 

Lilly had never ridden before, so we had a good time getting her on the horse (literally pushing her on top). Once Lilly was on, they gestured me over to the other horse. I asked if I was good to get on, they said yes. I placed my foot in the stirrup and began to hoist myself on. The horse promptly began bucking. Somehow I slipped off and backed up as the owners got the horse to calm down. One of the guys jumped on to the horse and took off galloping saying “he likes to run!” When he returned, he told me I was definitely good to get on this time. I wasn’t super stoked on the idea, but what was I going to do? This time the horse chilled as I got on and we took off at a walk as the owner led me. I asked what the name of the horse was and he laughed and said “Rebelde” and then said he didn’t know how to say that in English. For those who are curious, I did know, and it’s Rebel. An aptly named horse if you ask me. The owner led me down the road awhile and then when we turned around he gave me the reigns and explained to me how I would get Rebelde to stop and start and turn. I just went with it, not feeling the need to explain that I ride horses most summers and although I’m not great, I do know how to get a horse to start, stop, and turn. I simply smiled and said “ohhhh!!” excitedly and practiced when he asked me to.

As soon as I arrived back to where the horses were hanging out, my family told me they were leaving so I said my thank you’s and did all the cheek kissing I could handle and jumped into the car. It was a little after six at this point and had been a long day.

We drove back through the windy roads for a while before once again pulling over to the side of the road. This time, however, it was dark and I had no idea what was going on. Host Dad got out and began yelling something about “las truchas.” I asked what happened but couldn’t understand much of the answer except something about buying or selling truchas. Eventually some car came by and gestures were exchanged. Host Dad got back in the car with Host Brother who had been searching for phone service and we got on our way. I was confused, but figured I’d never know. I was also focused on trying to figure out how I felt about the fact that I feel way more comfortable in the secluded jungle of Ecuador than in the modern city.

We made it home a little after eight or so and ate some delicious “Empanadas Verdes” before making our way to our various rooms. It was a crazy day just because so many different things had happened in a relatively short amount of time – none of which I was truly prepared for.

This morning after breakfast, I noticed a bucket of fish (truchas) on the counter, presumably answering my questions from the night before.

Y mañana, me voy

It’s crazy to think that it’s my last night in Ecuador (at least for awhile). I’m trying to think and process and all that, but I’m not sure how to put it all into words yet, so I’m not going to try. I’m grateful for the time that I’ve had here and I will say that I have learned so much, both about the world and about myself. Once I can put into words the end of my time here, I will (another promised blog?), but for now, I’ll leave you with a couple sillier stories about my time here. I’m looking forward to getting home for a few reasons, one of them being to be able to run consistently again. I’ve had funny misadventures during my runs in Quito and I’ll share a couple with you now.
 
For the record, I wanted to call this blog “The runs in Quito” for the pun, but I didn’t know if that translated into Spanish. Anyway.
 
My running here began slowly with lots of 10 minute runs around the 400-500 meter-ish conjunto (gated neighborhood) I lived it. I was comfortable there and the guard would always acknowledge me. It was safe, but not all that interesting. As a 10k track runner you’d think I’d be used to running in circles, but alas, I still do not love it. Eventually my first host family showed me the old airport turned park about a five minute run from our house where I could run on certain days. I did that once and then was kind of banned from doing it again after I got a cold from the wind. So there I was, back to the conjunto. Except on glorious Sundays. You see, Ecuador (or Quito rather) has this program wherein they close one of the main streets for runners and cyclists to have free range all Sunday morning and most of the afternoon. I’d forgotten the freedom of running for awhile until I was able to step onto a street and just go. I got a few funny looks, of course, but I always felt very safe. (Okay, yes, I did also carry pepper spray, but I never had to use it!)
 
When I switched families I was aware that I probably wouldn’t have a safe circle to run in, but that was the only con of leaving, so I decided not to worry about it. And then I met my new host dad and he told me about how he ran every morning in the park and that I could join him. The first time I ran with him was a Sunday, so we went in late morning to the huge park and I was absolutely shocked to find that it was jam packed with people doing all sorts of exercises or just hanging out. Mauricio, my dad, showed me that the park even had a 800 meter track hidden in its depths. Although I hadn’t thought I’d miss a track, especially after the conjunto running, I nearly cried with joy at the sight of something so familiar. Running around the park that Sunday was absolutely awesome, but it couldn’t beat the next time I was there.
 
The next day Mauricio asked if I wanted to get up with him to run at 5. Obviously, I said yes. When I woke up the next day I was unconvinced about why I agreed to this, especially when we walked out the door and I was greeted by the still black night. We arrived to the park and it was still pitch black. I had kind of thought that Mauricio would run with me since it was so dark, but alas, he said chao and I took off. I liked running in the mornings (I did it twice) because of how fresh it was. There were people, but not too many. As nice it was, I couldn’t help but think of how in every single safety training we’d had we had been consistently warned, “do not go into La Carolina [the park] unless it is Sunday afternoon and you are in a group.” I usually adhere religiously to safety warnings, but I chose to trust Mauricio on this one and, hey! It all turned out well. Unfortunately, I haven't been up for running so I have taken a bit of a break and will continue when I get home Sunday.
 
My favorite story, however, happened in February when my first family host brother-in-law Paúl took me to run in another park in Quito. This park is a lot more like a forest with hills and trails and I was absolutely delighted to feel like I was back in nature again. Paúl brought his two dogs and asked if he could practice his English with me for the run so I was pretty much in heaven. We reached one point where you can see a ton of Quito stretched out before you. I was breathless (although we’d just climbed a huge hill so that may have had something to do with it). However the best was after we’d finished our run as we walked through a small orchid Paúl asked if I wanted juice. I asked where, trying to stall to figure out 1. If I wanted some 2. If I should have some (this was still early in my stage of extreme worry over purification of water) 3. If I had brought money. Paúl gestured in front of us and said “here!”. Not seeing anything I thought “Huh, are we taking it off the trees?” and responded that I was good without juice (and to myself: the pesticides could be different here!) Paúl said that okay, but that he was going to get some anyway and then we began walking through the orchid to – oh what’s that? An actual juice stand? Oh…
 
Alas, just a couple misadventures to tide you all over until I’m home. Speaking of, see you soon America!

Pero, antes de acabar...

Hello dear loyal followers of this blog (I’m talking to the 15 of you that actually read my community service blog).

My countdown has, somehow, officially reached single digits, so I thought I’d give you a quick update on what’s going on, with the promise of more thorough posts to come. My main concern right now is the 20 or 30ish page investigative/research paper that I am writing. In Spanish. My paper is about the public vs. critical perspective of the recently changed education policies in Ecuador. This is the longest paper than I’ve ever written in English let alone Spanish, so until Tuesday I shouldn’t spend too much of my time regaling you all with my Ecuadorian misadventures. 

However, after Tuesday (maybe one of these before I get home?) I plan to post a blog about running here in Ecuador that I’ve written in my head, the blog I promised wherein I’m real about the challenges of being abroad, and that one blog I wrote in January and promised I’d post in May.

I’ll also potentially write about getting back to the states and what that’s like, but who knows.

Mid-Chiva Ride PC: Brianne

Never fear though. A quick story for your enjoyment: aside from having a Latin American lover, should you spend time in Latin America, I also recommend that you do your best to find your way onto a Chiva party. A chiva is essentially a truck where usually there’d be cargo or animals, but instead they cut off the sides, leaving a sort of “fence” and then dressed up the inside to be a dance floor. In the one I was in there was also a pole dancing pole. I’m not sure if it’s standard or not, but alas. The chiva drives around for a few hours blasting Latin American music as people dance and drink. As you can imagine, with each turn and stop light there is ungraceful lurching and as I’m already a poor dancer, I can’t tell you how many times I came THAT close to falling on my face only to be saved by my friends. I had a blast not only dancing (or can you call what I do dancing?) but also being able to see Quito at nighttime as we sailed through the streets. And I’m just lucky enough that I get to do it all again tomorrow.

Enough procrastination, back to my project. (Wait, but does anyone have any funny YouTube videos I NEED to see right now or songs I should listen to?)

¿Quieres ir al doctor homeopático o gastronómico?

If you speak Spanish and are wondering why I ended up in a situation where I was asked whether I’d like to go to a homeopathic doctor or a gastronomic (regular typed) doctor, well that’s another, not quite so funny story. You see, I’ve predominately blogged about my funny or interesting experience, but things are not perfect. I have a sort of “coming clean” blog coming about some of the challenges of studying abroad so as not to deceive anyone, but for now I’m going to continue to blog about my weird and great experiences. So alas, let’s begin with me being asked about which doctor I would rather go to.

When Brianne’s host mom (whose family I stayed with for a few days) asked me which I’d prefer, I thought for a minute and decided on the homeopathic doctor. I figured it would be a little more natural and a little less weird for me. Right before I left, Brianne, who had seen this doctor in the past, came in to the room I was staying in to explain what I needed to bring and then as I was leaving she said “oh yeah! He sometimes does a little acupuncture – just so you know.” I didn’t think much of that because I figured Brianne and my situations were probably pretty different and maybe the doctor had asked her and decided it was the best way to go about treating her.

Anyway, I got into the car with Brianne’s mom and tried not to cry out of gratitude as we speed towards his office. Well, in theory it was an office. In reality, I think it was a house converted into a doctor’s space. He greeted me, asked a few basic questions, and then asked me to lie down on his doctor’s table. This is all in Spanish, of course, and while my Spanish has improved a ton whilst being here, I was pretty frazzled and I don’t know doctor speak all that well. Eventually, I was lying on the table and he asked me to take off my shirt. Or, at least that’s what I thought he said. My hesitation must have been evident because he asked me again. Since Brianne’s host mom was in the room with us, I tried not to think about it too much as I stripped down to my bra and then also unbuttoned my pants per his request. I was biting my smile at this point, because I couldn’t help but enjoy the ridiculousness of what was going on, but I also didn’t want to look like a crazy person grinning as a doctor examined my bare belly. For anyone that knows me – taking off any clothes is not a forte of mine, so my grin was also simply uncomfortable embarrassment. Alas.

He poked and prodded around, eventually determining what the issue was. I was looking at the ceiling because oh my goodness I am not wearing a shirt and my pants are unbuttoned in front of a stranger?? How awkward. So when, at one point, there was suddenly something sharp poking into my stomach, I was a bit surprised. Soon afterwards another needle typed feeling thing was stuck into another part of my stomach. At this point, I wanted to know what was going on so I peered down only to see two thin needles sticking out of my skin. The acupuncture had begun. This was a first for me and I found it extremely strange to see needles sticking out of my body, especially as he added more to my stomach, feet, and hands, so I looked back up and hoped that it wouldn’t be like that SNL skit where Kristen Wiig and Aidy Bryant try to do acupuncture and end up with the patient spurting blood everywhere. As I am alive and typing this, rest assured that no SNL repeat occurred.

After leaving the needles sticking out of me, the doctor messed around with my ears for a little while so I assumed he was putting more needles there. Finally, he got some very hot scented object and began hovering it directly over my stomach. This was uncomfortable. It also smelled suspiciously of something I often smell at Pitzer, but can’t quite put my finger on what it is. After my belly was sufficiently scorched and the needles in my belly were removed, he asked me to flip over. Keep in mind, I’m still convinced that there are at least six needles poking out of each ear and I wasn’t too keen on pressed them farther into my skull by lying with my head on the side. However, the doctor was waiting so I flipped myself but then kept my chin on the pillow rather than one said of my head. It was awkward and uncomfortable. Finally the doctor came up to my head and forcibly made me choose a side of my head to lean on. Surprisingly, there were no needles there. This was comforting in that I knew nothing would end up spearing the inner working of my head, but also confusing because what had he done to my ears??? After more needles pierced my back and the Pitzer smelling hot stick had sufficiently covered my back, the doctor told me I was good to get up and get my clothes back on and such.

 

He explained to me and Brianne’s host mom what was going on and what I needed to do. This included not eating milk, yogurt, chocolate, or costal fruits (yeah, weird I know) for a week nor running. NO CHOCOLATE FOR A WEEK??? Was pretty much all I could think until he pulled out two small squeeze bottles, each with a psychedelic print on the side and was clearly explaining to me that these would be my natural medicine that I needed flip them over, hit them seven times and then drink 20 drops every morning and night until they ran out. I’ve included a picture, Please enjoy the professional and totally legitimate feel you get from looking at them. Yes I still take them every day twice a day. No I did not go the whole week without chocolate (although to be fair we all went to Mindo last weekend [two days after my appointment] and Mindo is known for it’s chocolate tours, so I couldn’t just not do that). I did manage to go the rest of the week, aside from that day, without it.

I bet you’ve forgotten about my ears, haven’t you? I certainly had until I arrived back at Brianne’s house to find my new host dad [told you there was a longer story] there to meet me. I was nervous because I wanted to make a good impression, so naturally I resorted to my oldest nervous habit and began touching my ear. Only this time, there was something there. At first I thought it was a zit and then I realized that there was no way it was that and when my new host dad slipped away to answer a phone call, I asked Brianne’s host mom if there was something there. “Of course!” she said “they’re [insert Spanish word that I don’t know]!” “ohhh” I exclaimed, as though I knew exactly what she was talking about. When she looked the other way I asked Brianne was that meant and she told me that they were magnets. Brianne’s mom overheard and explained to me that the doctor had put magnets in my ears in order to balance out my energies. Well, there you go. Apparently a lot of my energy needed balancing because I had at least six magnets per ear and you’re supposed to leave them in until they fall out. It’s been over a week for me and most of them are still there. Does this mean my energy is really off???

Well, if it is, now I have my own set of acupuncture needles to use.

Servicio Comuntario (o mi tiempo a Centro de Muchacho Trabajador)

The long promised volunteer blog (Sorry it took so long Grammy!): 

I have been trying to write this since I visited the volunteering sites the first week of being in Ecuador. Now I’ve been here for over 100 days (woah) and I am just about to go into my last week of volunteering. It’s hard to write about, because it has been a significant part of my time here in Ecuador and I have found it to be overall very rewarding, but it is an incredibly tough job.

First off, I wrote this part in January right after we visited: “Yesterday we got to visit a couple options for our volunteer work while we’re here (volunteering twice a week is part of Pitzer’s program). I liked the idea of many options that we were told about, especially the ones that worked with kids, but in the end I think there is only one place for me. I fell in love the second I walked in the door to find the walls painted the color of the schools in Peru that I had helped teach in with my NLC class the summer after my sophomore year of high school. I continued to fall in love as I read the values on the wall and saw kids playing games in a courtyard. I fell even deeper when I heard about what the volunteers do (help the teachers teach the kids!!!). However, it was when we walked by one door filled with, I’d guess five-year-olds, and a couple girls ran out yelling “¡Hola!” and hugged me that I was sold.”

A lot of that is still true for me. I love walking up the stairs surrounded in the blue that only signifies good things to me and I love the values that the center is striving for and I love when the kids come up and hug me. But it is definitely different than I imagined.

First, let me explain a little about this very worthy place. It is called “Centro de Muchacho Trabajador (CMT)” and it works with the whole family of children that work on the streets. They ensure that the kids are getting an education and know how to work safely (rather than steal or any other host of things you can get into on the streets) as well working with the whole family on how to save money, help others, etc. I love the values and more than anything, that is what encouraged me to choose CMT. One tough thing, however, is that the president of Ecuador, Rafael Correa, has changed a bunch of policies in Ecuador that look really good on paper, but do not always work out as planned (as happens in politics) but one of these is that under this government, if children are found working on the street, their parents will go to jail. Say whatever you want about child labor, but I will tell you two things that I have learned: 1. It’s easier for the kids to get away with robbing people and selling drugs than doing honest work right now and 2. This change happened during my time at CMT and the kids were significantly worse behaved without their goals or their confidence that one can only get from being fairly self-sufficient and by helping out their families.

Now, my experience.

I work at CMT twice a week for three hours each day and afterwards I come home and often just want to crash onto my bed and never move again. The kids need a lot of love and a lot of discipline and it is hard to strike the right balance. One time I raised up my hands towards the sky in front of one of the kids in the exacerbated “what???” gesture and he veered back as though he thought I was going to hit him. That was a real eye-opener for me and anytime I’m really mad or frustrated I think about that moment and about how more than anything, they need someone who isn’t going to hit them – who’s going to care about them and give them a hug instead.

It doesn’t always feel that simple, although I know it should. I work with kids from the age of about 7 to about 12. It is hard to gain their respect, not aided at all by the fact that they clearly respect my male co-volunteer more than me. The boys – at the tender age of 8 or 9 – will make sexual gestures at me when they think that I am not looking. They can be incredibly rude, they constantly hit each other or just bother each other incessantly, and one boy even hit me one day.

All in all, I think what I realized is that I should never have expected it to be like my experience in Peru. They are, of course, different kids living different lives and quite simply are in a completely different situation. That doesn’t mean it’s worse or better, it’s just different. I’m finding it difficult to reflect fully on the time that I have spent there. It is a huge challenge and I have never doubted so sincerely whether I am going about something the right way or if I am making any difference at all, but I am still so happy that this is what I get to spend my Monday and Wednesday afternoons doing. And, of course, it doesn’t hurt that the little girls and boys still run up to hug me on occasion. 

La Amazonía

This blog is really about my trip to the Amazon last weekend, but first I have a bit of advice: at some point in your life, I would suggest that you have a Latin American lover. Now, I do not have a Latin American lover and thus cannot speak from experience per se, but I can tell you after going to a discoteca last Wednesday (we didn’t have classes Thursday, don’t worry Mom) that hearing about your smile and name and such in romanticized Spanish sounds quite nice. I do not intend on actually having a Latin American lover whilst here, but still, I’d recommend it. Anyway, this blog is about the Amazon. First: look up Yasuní. This is [basically] where we stayed and long story short it is arguably the most bio-diverse spot on the planet.

What an adventure. I hardly know where to begin. The first thing that strikes me when I think about the Amazon (aside from the densely humid heat which I am already semi-used to from living in St. Louis) is the views. We passed by constant luscious green growth sprouting out of a brown river popping with almost unreal colors and the occasional visible animal as we boated into the depths of the jungle. As we got deeper into Ecuadorian Amazon, I couldn’t help but think of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and the feeling began to hit me that this wasn’t really a place for humans. As amazing as it was to be there, that feeling never really left. I was more of a foreigner there than in any other place I have ever been. The jungle is the domain of the animals and plants; it isn’t for my tramping around. Even so, I loved getting the opportunity to be there. 

Within four short hours of arriving to the Amazon, I had seen many birds, the elusive Amazon River Dolphin, some monkeys, and a sloth. A SLOTH!!! Sloth in Spanish is “perezoso” which also means “lazy” so a group of sloths would be called “lazies” and I just really love that. Anyway.

We arrived to our lodge just in time for dinner and after eating some delicious food and hearing about our 6am meet-up for the next day, we headed to bed. Although, let me say here that “heading to bed” is not quite as simple in the jungle as it is in most circumstances. Brianne and I, who were sharing a cabin typed room, walked in to our room and then our bathroom only to find the biggest, most terrifying and simply odd-looking bugs I had ever seen up to that point in my life. I don’t consider myself much of a shrieker, but I will admit that there was some shrieking done upon entering the bathroom and having one fly too close my face. Once braving the bathroom to brush our teeth and such, we then had to maneuver within the bedroom without stepping on any horrifying creatures and make it into our net-covered beds without letting in the hordes of mosquitoes that were assuredly awaiting their chance to attack. To make this more difficult, there is no electricity except from 6pm-10pm and it was past 10pm. Finally we did make it to bed and juuust as we were drifting off to sleep, between the loud chirppings of various bugs and calls of animals, we began to hear a deep and ominous breathing coming from underneath our lofted cabin. Obviously, we chose to hope that our door lock worked against jaguars and went to sleep. I certainly did not sleep well, but when I woke up with there was only one cockroach on my pillow, so I was clearly overreacting. (I'm just kidding, the cockroaches didn’t make it onto my bed- or at least that I know of). 

Our days in the Amazon went something like this: canoe, eat, hike, eat, canoe, eat, hike, sleep, eat, boat/swim, eat, hike, eat, canoe. So we had a fairly even balance of land to water activities. I’m going to group them together as land vs. water to make things easier to describe. First, land.

Our land adventures were fascinating. Our native guide, Livio, stopped and taught us survival tactics along the way. He showed us how to make poison from the bark of a tree and then had us all try it. It was horrendously bitter, but no one died, so that was good. I should probably mention here that it’s poisonous to all animals except humans and chickens ;)
 
As we were hiking along we came to a clearing in the trees where one solo tree was growing. Livio asked us why were thought that might be and we all gave varying responses, to which he went up to the tree, pulled off a pod typed thing and opened it to release a swarm of ants. Then he told us to stick our tongues into it. One by one he held up a new pod of ants to each of us and we hesitantly (or not so hesitantly*Brianne*) stuck our tongues into it. Wow. That was weird. My brain was sending so many “NO!!” messages to my tongue and mouth, so very cautiously I moved my tongue forward and then at the last moment stuck it fully in and then lunged away from it. I could not only feel them, some still crawling, in my mouth, but I could taste their burst of lemon flavor. Yes, lemon. They were actually pretty good, a natural lemon flavored (ant) snack to brighten up your day, but when someone told me one was crawling onto my lip from my mouth, I recalled exactly what I had just done and was sufficiently creeped out again. 

Our other hiking experience was done the second night we were there after dinner, in the dark. We were told to gather our flashlights and wear our rain boots because “you could get bitten by a poisonous bug!” I was dubious about whether I wanted to subject myself to something that involved poisonous creatures sneaking around in the dark, but I had no choice. The first thing we saw was a nice little frog. The second thing, however, was a gigantic tarantula. I was done after that, but no, we needed to press on deeper into the Amazonian jungle and into the darkness of the night. We saw very odd-looking insects and creatures and every time a new one had light shone upon it by Livio, Marley and I would look at each other, horrified. To be honest though, it wasn’t so much the things that we were seeing that were bothering me (although I certainly lost some sleep that night after knowing that there are such things as scorpion spiders and that they are bigger than my face), what really bothered me was the question that kept coming to my head: “if this is what we are seeing, what are we NOT seeing?” My worries were eventually interrupted when something very bit my hand quite painfully and I had a minor panic about whether it had been something poisonous and my final moments would be in the dark jungle until I saw a tiny ant crawling away from the spot that felt like fire was burning off my skin. Thanks little guy.

So that was that for land adventures until the last day when we went to a tower in Yasuní and climbed up… I don’t know… 12 flights of stairs? In order to see the spectacular Amazon from above the trees. That is not a view I will soon forget. There were monkeys hanging out in a nearby tree and just beyond that tree was the river. If you can ever get above the canopy of the Amazonian Jungle, do it.

As far as water adventures, we were in a boat for over four hours the first day and then nearly eight the last [no there is no bathroom on this boat and it isn’t highly suggested to go in the water due to a certain fish that may or may not exist, but anyway], as well as many canoe escapades, including a 6am one. In the canoes we saw many types of birds and monkeys and even a sea lion (river lion?) and a crocodile, but predominantly we got to enjoy the tranquility of the calm river as we navigating through the trees that grow from the ground beneath the river so that it appears as though their thick trunks are growing from the water. They also reflect perfectly down onto the still water (in day and in night) so that a disoriented person could easily mistake the water for the sky.

The second morning of our stay, our first activity was fishing for piranhas. Our lodge is located on a lagoon part of the river called “Piranha Lagoon” if that tells you anything. There are vegetarian piranhas there and there are also carnivorous piranhas. We all fished unsuccessfully for awhile – though we did get a few bites and definitely lost a few chunks of the raw meat we were using for bait. To be honest, I was exhausted from having stayed up too late the night before and decided to nap in the slowly rocking boat rather than attempt to catch fish (and I regret nothing). Finally Livio caught a carnivorous piranha that we later ate for lunch. Piranha is delicious. 10/10 would eat again.

The point after finishing fishing was the point that I had been looking forward to all trip. We would get to swim in the river and lagoon with the piranhas. Although I wasn’t thinking about it at the time (thankfully) this river is also home to anacondas, boa constrictors, and crocodiles, among other things. Luckily however, I wasn’t thinking about those things so once I saw Livio and then Sebastián jump in, I stripped to my bathing suit and followed their lead. I did not get attacked by piranhas. Sorry to ruin the myth, but even carnivorous piranhas don’t eat humans – well, at least that’s what Livio, Viviana, and Sebastián told us. It was actually quite lovely. The water is refreshing, but wasn’t too cold. Slightly more disconcerting, however, you can’t see your feet if you look down and your whole body is tinged with a brownish-orange hue. Eventually everyone got in and we began our swim back to the lodge. I swallowed a ton of lagoon water, but didn’t have time to dwell on it in the magnificence of the moment. This was another one of those times that I will simply never be able to describe sufficiently. As Marley, Ami, and I neared the lodge, rain began to fall from the humongous Ecuadorian sky and I looked up to see Marley and Ami grinning genuinely and oh-so-happily at this beautiful moment. I know my face reflected theirs and, as I had thought many times throughout the trip, the words “que rica esta vida” popped strongly into my head. Because it’s true, what a beautifully rich life to be living.

El Cuento de Rodger El Borrego

After venturing hugely out of my comfort zone to Dunkin’ Donuts, Chili’s and then Insurgent on Friday, I was feeling very American and was ready to go kill and eat my lunch the coming Sunday. (har har)

I awoke the next morning eager for our journey back to San Clemente. On the way we stopped by the huge Saturday market about two hours outside of Quito to haggle for presents and souvenirs. The vendors can tell I’m a foreigner from a mile away, but I got some decent prices once they figured out I knew what was up.

Finally we made it into Ibarra and then up into San Clemente (and no our taxi driver did not know how to get there and yes we did follow the wrong taxi into a sketchy looking wooded area until having him turn back towards the main-ish road). But alas, we made it and were greeted by the ever sarcastic and hilarious Martina who welcomed us warmly and showed us to our rooms. It was getting dark by then and as soon as we all settled by the fire, Martina appeared and asked us if we’d like to go see the sheep. 

The sheep. Quick backstory for those of you who didn’t read my about my first experience in San Clemente (never fear you can read it here if you wish). Long story short: a few of us played in a soccer tournament with the San Clemente community against another indigenous community nearby. We won the tournament and thus we won the sheep. We had been invited back by Martina to kill and eat the sheep we had won.

Martina led us up a short path to a small field next to her house and there he was. Right away Sarah began calling him Rodger and for whatever reason the name stuck. We were all slightly giddy but also concerned as we watched him run frantically about while still attached to a tree by his rope. Martina eventually grabbed the rope so she could move him, but not before he could go careening up the hill to where a cow and her calf were grazing. That cow wanted nothing to do with Rodger so she quickly, efficiently, and very unceremoniously head-butted Rodger off the cliff like ledge and back onto the field. Poor Rodger. Honestly it was hysterical, but poor guy nonetheless. We had a good laugh and spent more time taking in the fact that we had helped win this sheep and the next day he would be on our table. At one point while I was playing sheep whisperer the rope snapped in such a way that hit my head and left me with two welts that I can still feel. Let’s just say I wasn’t too sad when I left knowing the next time I’d see him, he’d be on my plate.

Except, the next time I saw him, he wasn’t on my plate, he was in my bowl and that was a bit more of a shocker.

But first, the next morning after a delicious breakfast Lilly and Sarah went to go watch the process of Rodger turning into lunch. I knew that if I was going to eat him later, I probably should not watch the process. As cold-hearted as my facebook posts may have seemed, I don’t think I can watch something die. I would add more opinions to that about the meat industry and vegetarianism and all that, but I’m not about to turn this into a political blog.

So! After a post-breakfast nap and then finally getting up to do homework and take a preciously hot shower, it was finally time for lunch. I walked into the kitchen and was greeted by Martina’s husband asking which of us didn’t eat peanuts. Since that person is me, he happily handed me not a plate, but a bowl. The bowl I had not anticipated. A bowl of Rodger’s intestines. Oh but no worries, there weren’t any peanuts or chochos in it, just the guts of an animal… I tried it, but I’ve already been given sheep intestines by my host family and it is just one of those foods I cannot do. More than anything, it was the smell. Oof. No, I don’t even want to write about it. It seemed as though Rodger had gotten his final revenge until when we were presented other plates. This time, it was more of what I expected: potatoes, corn, cheese, and a big ole’ slab of Rodger. 

Truth time here: despite the wonderful seasoning added by Martina and her husband, I was still not a fan. I ate what I could and then immediately went to brush my teeth. Sheep leaves a sort of dry paste all over your mouth. The cheese was delightful though!

Shortly afterwards, we thanked Martina and said our goodbyes to the lovely community once again before heading into town to get world famous Helado de Paila and then getting on the bus back to Quito.

Here is where I must say: the act of winning the sheep, the knowledge of having won a sheep, and the idea that we would get to eat it is infinitely more enticing than the actuality of sitting down to that meal. What an experience though. I never thought I’d be able to start a story with “well, one time when I was in Ecuador, I won a sheep…”

Las Islas Galápagos (o: mis padres en el ecuador)

Well I’m back on the mainland again and as I upload my photos from the week in lieu of beginning my homework due Tuesday, I do believe that it is high time for another blog. [note: first draft was written Sunday night upon my return, I realize that it is now Thursday, but on the plus side, I did get my Tuesday homework done in time].

I have a bunch of stories to share from the past month (holy moly it’s been over a month since I blogged?!), but we’ll have to see about whether they will make it on the blog. (Don’t worry Grammy, I always write down a reminder in my notebook and then put the whole story in my journal so that I won’t forget to tell you). This blog, is about Las Islas Galápagos!

My parents arrived in Quito nearly two weeks ago and after dragging them around Quito to show them my stomping grounds, we woke up early Wednesday to catch our flight to the Galápagos. Flying in over mini islands that looked like they’d been carelessly dropped with nothing but the vast expanse of water and other such islands surrounding them created the sense of going somewhere deserted and prehistoric. That sense only grew stronger the longer we were there.

After landing on one island and taking a ferry to another, we were driven to see our first giant tortoises (aka los galápagos) of the trip. I thought maybe because I knew what they were I wouldn’t be shocked by them, but I was wrong. They’re giant. I realize that’s a silly thing to say, but they are. They basically own the islands as well, which is great. No one is allowed to stop them from going where they please (unless they’re in a breeding center) or stop them from eating what they like etc. Looking back, those were some of the smallest giant tortoises I ended up seeing, which is absolutely crazy to me. From that point we were driven to the port, ate lunch, and then got on the two-hour speedboat to the next island of our trip, Floreana.

I was a little surprised when we arrived because the beaches were black with lava rock (huh lava rock on an island created by volcanoes???) and I realized quickly we were the only non-natives staying on the island, which I didn’t mind at all until I heard the history of the island from a native… but that’s another story. When I say I was surprised, please note there is no negative connotation. It was amazing regardless of what I had conjured in my head (without knowing it) before arriving. We were greeted at the dock by sea lions happily basking in the sun. I have since renamed sea lions in my head to “sea dobbys” because they remind me so much of my little dog as they were lying happily in the sun anytime I saw them. Also on the dock was a huge lizard looking creature. Turns out it was a marine iguana. I knew then, if I hadn’t already known, that I’d like it there.

me and Claudio

On Floreana we stayed in cabins owned by a man, Claudio, whose father moved to Floreana in 1939, when there were just 11 other people living there. How lucky we were to end up in his care. He was delighted that I could speak Spanish (unlike our tour guide who was weirdly dismissive about that whole thing) so he would pull me aside during our hikes to show me a plant and tell me all about it or show me a spot where something significant happened in the islands history. I loved it. We were also lucky because he and his sisters fed us all of our meals for nearly three days. Fresh meat, seafood, fruits, coffee, etc. taken directly from their farm (well, the seafood was from the ocean) on the island. Soooo delicious.

Aside from learning the history of the island, we hiked, kayaked, stand-up paddle boarded, swam, snorkeled, visited Claudio’s farm, saw the tortoises of Floreana – including one that had been given to Claudio’s dad as a gift - and a whole host of other things. I was slightly apprehensive to snorkel because I’d done it when I was about 9 and hated it (classic Jordan… you were 9, let it go!) anyway, I decided to try it out again and ended up enjoying it immensely. At one point I was swimming around looking at some brown fish and trying to gauge where my mom was when I saw movement. I turned, thinking it was my mom, but to my great surprise I found that I was face-to-face with a huge sea turtle. It was a beautiful shock and I watched it for a little while before popping up to try to get my mom and dad to come over and see it too. I ended up snorkeling with sea turtles twice more during the trip, but it never got less shocking or less fascinating.

One of my other favorite stories on Floreana happened the first night. My dad and Claudio were bonding [via hand gestures and my attempts at translation] over the excitement of the rain (those ranching folks ya know) when my mom added excitedly, “I wonder what cool animals the rain will bring out!” Some sassy comments about spiders and such popped into my head, but I held them in and we soon headed back to our cabins. As I waited for my mom to brush her teeth and get her book and such together to come sleep in my cabin (no I was not about to walk the 10 feet to my cabin all alone!) I casually conversed with my dad as he got settled in his bed. No sooner had he pulled up the covers of his bed than a black scorpion scuttled across his blanket-covered chest. My memory is a little hazy at this point because I was scared out of my mind that it would sting my dad, but I ran over and communicated hurriedly (there may have been screaming, ask my parents, I genuinely don’t know) about what was crawling on my dad. Fairly calmly (with maybe one explicative) my dad killed the beast with the tissue that had been next to his bed and then killed it again when it proceeded to not actually be dead from the first killing. He was laughing by then and I might have been too, but by the time I got back to my own bed I was scared witless again. How’s that for animals coming out in the rain Mom?? In the morning we asked about scorpions on Floreana were told that not only are they extremely rare, they were not poisonous here. Sure, they’d give you a nasty spider-bite typed deal, but nothing serious. When we told Claudio, he told me that we’d killed his pet and would have to buy him a new one.

On Friday, after inviting Claudio to the ranch, we moved on to Isabela. On the ride over I saw a whale and a flying fish. I know I should be more excited about the whale, but holy cow that fish was literally FLYING! Did you know they did that?? It stayed in the air next to us, and we were on a speedboat, for a long time! Crazy. The whale was awesome too, especially because it isn’t whale season, but OH MY GOSH THAT FISH WAS FLYING.

Isabela greeted us with white sand beaches, a small beach town vibe, and white tourists talking too loudly (it’s not even the most touristy of the islands). Isabela is lovely. It was on Isabela that I got to see Blue Footed Boobies (thanks to our mostly Spanish speaking tour guide who excitedly exclaimed things like “I just love it when there are big boobies in my face!” – and yes, my mom and I giggled like 13-year-old boys), Frigate birds, Humboldt Penguins, more sea lions [dobbys], marine iguanas, etc. It was pretty neat. (‘cause, you know, NEATure). One very cool thing about the wildlife on the Galápagos is that the animals have always been treated well by the humans (minus the poor tortoises) so they aren’t frightened by people in the slightest. I would stand or kneel right by any number of creatures and they would just continue their sunbathing or eating or whatever they were doing. 

Besides more snorkeling, seeing more tortoises (including babies!!), staring at marine iguanas swimming [not obsessed…] I got to do one of my favorite things in the world: sit on the beach and read all day. I started and finished reading The Girl on the Train in less than a day and made some fantastic progress in Nick Offerman’s Paddle Your Own Canoe. I have been made fun of for this, but trust me; there is little I would have rather done.

It was a beautiful trip and I feel very lucky to have known a paradise like this one. Boarding the plane to leave was tough, although part of that was knowing I’d have to say goodbye to my parents soon after returning to Quito.

As I’ve sat in class this week it’s hard not to think, “oh wow, just a week ago I was in warm turquoise water with a sea turtle,” but I have many adventures to come. For instance, remember the sheep I helped win via our soccer game in San Clemente? Well, we’re headed back there to kill and eat it this weekend. And then, the weekend after that? ¡Vamos a la Amazonia! And there, there are these fish that swim directly up your… well… I’ll just see what happens and then recount it.