El Oriente

Monday Nov. 2

I left Friday for the ‘Orient,’ not knowing exactly what that meant, but hoping to find something of a jungle. I was pretty tried upon leaving for the trip so I don’t remember much of the first three hours, but about 2/3 of the way through the terrain turned extremely bumpy and we drove on what felt like dirt/rock roads for the next two hours. It was then that I realized we were definitely out of the city. The cloud forests we were passing were incredible beautiful although, in between the nausea and blurred vision I couldn’t fully enjoy the scenery until we reached our hostel. Seeing the amazing natural resources of Ecuador it is sometimes hard to understand how such a country could internally hold so much poverty.
We arrived about dinner time at the hostel and were immediately shown to our cabins. From the very first cobblestone step it was quite obvious that this was a place for gringos and the owners were very accustomed to foreign guests. The cabins, and well what seemed like the whole place, fortunately did not have any bugs. With a hammock out front, a monstrous bathroom and luxurious beds, I felt like I had been led to some sort of exotic resort for the weekend. Dinner, and every meal following, consisted of three courses and the finest food I had yet to try. Things that were very native to the area such as ‘hungos’ o ‘tuna,’ and also things that most Americans love such as waffles and French fries. We were served very professionally and always accompanied by a different type of fruit, popcorn and coffee. While I can not say that I did not enjoy every second of my time in that paradise, I do constantly have a certain guilt in the back of my head that while I am out spending money my third batido de piña, the kids I know from Parque Carolina are still with their parents on the corner, selling caramelos.
Dinner Friday night was followed by a demonstration by a Shaman who preformed a sort of healing service for everyone staying in the hostel. His purpose was to rid the body of all bad energy and thus fill it with the good kind. The process involved smoke, leaves and a bit of singing, but overall I think I’m a bit of a skeptic when it comes to these types of things. Lisa, the volunteer for the demonstration said that she felt like she had a ton of energy after it was over, but can smoke and dancing really change the state of your being? The Quichua’s certainly believe it can, and they also use almost all herbal and natural medicine for any sort of illness. Part of me would love to learn about there beliefs and live for a longer amount of time in a place like the orient to soften my disbelief in that way of life.
After breakfast we were met at the hostel by Jose, a local Quichua who would be our tour guide for several events throughout the weekend. Our fist adventure would be a hike through the jungle that just happened to be located in the ‘backyard’ of the hostel. We hiked, in our boots, past a few local houses, through a bit field and then immediately into a deep primary jungle. There were tons of new flowers, vines, waterfalls and plants that Jose told us we could eat. As we walked he was constantly pointing things out, making us vine crowns or letting us try things like ‘sangre de drago.’ (a red syrup that drips from the tree, supposedly good for bug bites and stomach aches ..but if you take too much its also deadly!) I think the best part had to be when we went though the cave. The way Jose talked about this particular entrance, it didn’t sound that exciting, but we ended up walking more than 100m though a tiny crack in the rocks that was filled with water and bats! It wasn’t that nerve racking until one of the tiny creatures flew right in front of my face and I felt the brush of its wing. Right when we reached the other end of the cave, as if on a time, the heavens completely let loose and we were all left in the shock and excitement of a real rainforest downpour. I have never seen rain that thick and after surrendering and accepting the fact that we would be soaked, it was absolutely beautiful. Jose didn’t really let this information out until we got back, but we practically had to run back though the water so that the rising of the big river would not trap us in the forest before we could get back to the hostel. We found ourselves tracking back though rivers and currents instead of the nice forest floor on which we had come. We reached the river and, although the current was a bit fast we decided to go for it. With linked hands we slowly made are way across and all arrived on the other side without problems. Boots filled with water, backpacks soaked and illuminated faces, that hot shower which met me back at the cabin may have been the best one of my life.
Even though I had already gotten my adventure fill for the day, the afternoon still held more activity. The bus brought us back into town where we visited a site of ancient petroglifs that had been engraved in the rocks by ancient Quitchua people. The drawings themselves aren’t that exiting, but its amazing to think that they were physically made by people so long ago. Our tour guide, who was obviously a high school professor, was very knowledgeable about every site, and I was surprised to find out that all of his work there was voluntary. There was no official organization or governmental involvement in the preservation or education regarding these artifacts. It seems like there should be some sort of museum or lucrative tourist site, but yet, nothing.
Day two started out with a drive out past Tena so a small port where we boarded Canoe’s that were bound for Amazoonica, an animal rescue center/zoo that could only be accessed from the water. The water and surrounding area was beautiful and on the way we passed many men fishing, women in small boats carrying their weaving or ceramics or children just playing on the shoreline. There seems to be a common relaxation and peace that surrounds life on the river and I always love seeing that side of the third world condition. The zoo, surprising was managed by a group of Germans who had been living in Ecuador for the last few years. Our tour guide told us storied of escaped monkey’s and bird attacks that give the place its daily excitement. There were monkeys crawling all of the trees and tons of mammals that seemed completely foreign. Most of the residents had some sort of problem such as missing limbs or phobias that prompted their delivery to the rescue. What seemed like a billion pictures later we again boarded the small boats to return to the mainland. After a very touching moment when a monkey jumped into my arms I felt as if I had accomplished everyone’s childhood dream of playing with wild monkeys in the rainforest.
The next stop was a small village, one of the ones located on the riverfront that we had passed on our way in that morning. Like most small towns there were a ton of kids to come and greet us and we were led into a small hut to watch a demonstration of traditional ceramics. The señora that owned the shop taught us how she formed each piece, and walked us through the process of design, paint and firing. Again, it is always strange to see things like this and then realized that this wasn’t just a show with a paid ticket, it was her life. She lived there in that town, knew all of those kids and likely worked every morning in that same hut making pot after pot after pot so that gringos like ourselves could come and buy them. I don’t know if she is happy or if she wished for another life, but from what it looked like, the simplicity and true contentment of the daily routine may exhibit far more happiness than a life full of riches and luxury.
The next two parks/museums that we visited were very similar to the first; all filled with exotic animals, artifacts, plants and traditional Quitchua lifestyles. The monkeys that would just jump onto your shoulder and the natural face paint however never ceased to amuse me. Tena itself reminded me of Quito as it was slightly separated from its native jungle surroundings. After the long ride back to the hostel we were greeted by a warm delicious dinner and a group of local people that we preparing themselves with costumes and paint for a dance performance that was to follow the meal. Quitchua dance is beautiful and it’s the kind of things that makes you want to get up and join when you hear the music. Luckily at the end we were asked to join in and the hostel turned into a big Quichua dance party. The last ‘act’ so to say of the performance was a demonstration of a traditional Quichua marriage ceremony. I was chosen as the volunteer and quickly learned that I was to be married to the boy that had been playing the drums for the dance. My Quichua mother brushed my hair over my face as it was improper for her daughter to see her husband before the marriage. I watched, as much as I would through the hair in front of my eyes, the process of the in-laws determining the arrangements of the matrimony and as my mother turned away several suitors. The actual wedding consisted of a long of walking up and down, back and forth and then finally my ‘betrothed’ placed his hat on my head and it was done. We left holding hands and everyone clapped and began to dance again. It is fascinating that this culture had its own way of doing everything. As I have seen a bit in Lumbisí, most indigenous communities separate themselves more or less from the rest and then have their own systems of government, rules, traditions and even medical practices.
These thoughts were only furthered Sunday morning when we were again met by Jose for a tour of his own community, and a lesson from some of the local children on making bracelets with string from palms and seeds. The town was very small and the shack were we received our artisan class was the preschool. The women told us that a few months ago a hurricane had destroyed their community center and this small room now served for most communal events. As we were leaving, these same women asked if we might be willing to leave some of our plastic boots for them to use in the fields. They showed us their legs that we covered in scars from machete accidents that result from having no protection. I was very glad that they had the guts to ask and many of us left our boots with them as they told us God would surely bless us down the road.
From here we headed back to Quito, the 2 hours of bumpy, rocky terrain, and then as we again neared the city back to the smooth pavement that made it much easier to sleep.

Iliniza Norte

So this might look a little dangerous..and i think that it probably was, but the views were absolutly incredible!

The peak in between my friend Rebecca and I in the second picture is Cotopaxi, the hightest mountain peak in Ecuador (that i might attempt in a few weeks). Iliniza Norte is the other mountain in the next picture that was our goal for last weekend. We camped at the refuge just below this part that you can see here and then tried to get to the sumit early the next morning. The biggest problem for me was the crazy altitude! It was really hard to breath where we were and I pretty sure that none of us slept that night. We camped practially on top of snow (which made it really cold) and about 10pm the headache and dizyness kicked in which made it amost impossible to doze off. Even rolling over in the tent would get me out of breath!

Climbing to the peak we had to follow deep footprints that had been made here in the snow and lean into the mountain so that we wouldn't slip down. At one point we were connected by harnesses, but for the rest it was just up to us not to make any mistakes. We did have helmets, but they didn't really make me feel much safer considering that a fall would have been very long and through lots of rocks.

The hike down only took about a third of the time it took us to go up and we were on the busride home by mid afternoon!

For those of you spanish speakers..

These are some of my journals from my work in Lumbisi that talk about the things I'm finding, questioning and experiencing..the only things is that they are all in spanish. So i thought I'd put them up here for anyone that can understand them. And for those who can't you can just wow at my crazy spanish skills (haha just kidding) I'll try to sumerize things in english later!

Lunes 13 de Octubre

Leí anoche un articulo se llamaba ‘To Hell With Good Intentions’ que me dejó bien confundida y un poquita deprimida esta mañana en el bus cuando iba camino de Lumbisí. El autor describió el voluntario gringo como un ‘vendedor’ de la democracia, capitalismo y la manera de vida en los EEUU. Les catagorizó todos en un esteriotipo diciendo, “The idea that every American has something to give, and at all times may, can, and should give it, explains why it occurred to students that they could help Latin American peasants ‘develop’ by spending a few months in their villages” Al fin del artículo se atreve decir también que sería mejor si nos dejen todos efuerzas y quitan de empeorar los países con nuestra presencia. Dice, “I am here to suggest that you voluntarily renounce exercising the power which being an American gives you. I am here to entreat you to freely, consciously and humbly give up the legal right you have to impose your benevolence on Mexico. I am here to challenge you to recognize your inability, your powerlessness and you incapacity to do the ‘good’ which you intended to do.” ¿¡Que hago con eso!? No puedo, aun si querría, hacer mi maleta y regresar humilde a mi país. Estoy aquí. Trabajando aquí. Trabajando como voluntario, como gringa, y como alguien quien le gustaría ver cambios en la realidad del país. Eso no significa que pienso que tengo las claves para iniciar los cambios, solo que tengo la voluntad a hacer cualquier cosa que puedo para ayudar. Verdad que hay mucha gente que viene con agendas y ambiciones que pueden hacer daño en vez de mejorar a una gente, pero creo que tememos, también, reconocer que ciertamente hay necesidades que pueden ser realizados por cualquier persona que tiene el tiempo y recoursos a estar presente, sin tener en cuenta su nacionalidad.
Después de trabajo caminé a la estación donde quedan los buses verdes, como hago todos los días. Me sorprendió oír la voz familiar de un estudiante gritando, ‘Mamá, mira, mira! Ya viene mi profe!’ Edison me dijo que hoy tenía que coger el bus con su mamá para ir con ella a su trabajo. La mamá, quien parecía menos emocionante sobre la situación, asintió la cabeza, significando que el estaba diciendo la verdad. ‘Que divertido Edison, podemos ir juntos, ¿como te parece?’ El me dirijo a un asiento y sentamos juntos, el en mi regazo y yo con mis brazos envueltos sobre su cuerpo. Jugamos juegos, contamos en ingles, le hice cocuillos, y el rió hasta que casi estaba llorando. Cuando pasamos por la parada, la mamá le dio un tirón a su mano y tropezando en bajar del bus me dijo,‘¡chao profe, hasta mañana!’ Otra vez solita en el bus, sentí menos perdida y aun más segura que estaba en el lugar correcto. Quizás no estoy salvando el mundo como debe hacer un ‘buen Estadounidense,’ pero le hice reír un niño y para mí esto es suficiente.


Miércoles 15 de Octubre

A veces olvido que la descripción de mi trabajo aquí en Muñequitos es ‘enseñar ingles,’ no solo ‘jugar con niños.’ Como cada día se desarrolla con espontaneidad, nunca sé cuando vamos a tener media hora libre o cuando una de las profesoras me dirá ‘¿Profe Courley, podemos tener un lección de ingles en 5 minutos porfa?’ Con un poco de adrenalina decidía en un tema y hacía tarjetas o una canción con prisas. Hoy, a la orden de Profe Susie, empezamos con los partes de la cara. Siempre siento muy consumada si puedo comunicar algo con los niños y tenía una punzada de orgullo escuchando mientas repitieron ‘eyes, eras, mouth, nose,’ una y otra vez. Sé que no van a recordar nada mañana pero tengo que creer que tarde o temprano hay un propósito para estas cosas. Después de pocos minutos uno por uno, todos pierden interés y la lección ha terminado. A traves del día canto ‘eyes and ears and mouth and nose,’ con los que escucharía pero la mayoría solo quiere que le haga la vuelta…el juego preferido de mis estudiantes.
Parece que toda gente aquí en Lumbisí quiere aprender ingles. Estaba trabajando con Susie antes de empezó clases, pero no nos cumplimos más que unas frases básicas, incluyendo ‘I don’t want to go to work today.’ Lumbisí es un pueblo indígena, ¿pero que significa esto exactamente? Mujeres caminan por el campo llevando machetes y canastas llenas de verdes. De vez en cuando una señora pasa por la escuela con su rebaño de ovejas o vacas para pastar en el campo abajo. Hay ancianos que visten en ropa tradicional con joyas de oro, zapatos de cuero, faldas largas y una cinta tejido por la trenza. Mientras muchos de estos ancianos hablan quechua, el lenguaje nativo esta perdido en los niños. Si preguntas a cualquier padre en el pueblo es obvio que les preferían que sus niños aprendan ingles in vez de la lengua de sus raíces. En los de tercera edad hay un sentamiento a mantener tradiciones y una manera de vida mas simple, pero es evidente, especialmente entre los más jóvenes que el pueblo esta adoptando ideas de desarrollo.
En un articulo escrito por Emily Benedek, ella escribe sobre una señora indígena quien vive en los Estados Unidos. ‘I brought my mom some coffee and I made it in her old enamel pot. The first time my mom tasted it, she spit it out on the ground. She thought the coffee had gone bad. Then I told her it was gourmet coffee. I saw her a few minutes later pouring herself another cup, I heard her tell a friend of hers she was drinking gourmet coffee.” Este ejemplo puede servir como un metáfora de la vida indígena y las transiciones y presión que sienten ellos a conformar a una vida más desarrollada. Si es que la gente realmente creen que cosas como ingles o internet va a mejorar la vida o solamente están dichos que estas cosas son ‘gourmet, se han puesto la nuevas ideales de la vida educativa. Se puede oír música de los EEUU tocando de las casas y para muchas familias es más importante tener una televisión grande en vez de paredes resistentes. No estoy negando que hay problemas con una vida que no produce necesidades básicas como muchas de las indígenas en la épica presente pero me pregunto si ideas de ‘desarrollo’ que viene del norte, verdaderamente tienen soluciones apropiadas en este país. Puedo enseñar ingles a niños que no tienen ni una idea de la realidad de sus futuros pero sí ellos sabrían que esto significaba perdiendo las abuelitos, ¿todavía querrían aprender? Quizás estoy demasiado dramática pero creo que siempre son importantes estas preguntas cuando trabajas como un extranjero en una cultura igualmente extranjera.

Viernes 17 de Octubre:

No pagué esta mañana por el bus. Completamente lleno como lo normal, estaba apretada en el rincón a frente cerca del chofer. También como lo normal, tenía mis auriculares y la música fuerte en los oídos. Cuando sentí que alguien me estaba dando un golpecito en la espada, me volví a ver el ayudante de bus preguntándome algo. Era macho, joven y tenía esta mirada de interés en sus ojos. El pasó a decir que era muy bonita y que en su bus no tenía que pagar. Después de mucho interrogatorio sobre mi estatus relacional, por fin, llegue en Lumbisí. Baje rápidamente hinchando de iras.
Verdad que esta incidente no tenía mucho que ver con mi trabajo en la escuela, pero si inició un conversación muy interesante con Fernanda. Exista mucho el machismo en país, pero interesante, según ella, es menos fuerte en comunidades indígenas como Lumbisí. No hay una actitud de dominancia sobre la mujer posiblemente solo por el hecho que los dos padres tienen que trabajar igualmente. Hay la misma cantidad de madres que aparecen a llevar sus hijos que padres quienes parecen a tener justo la misma relación cariñosa con estas guaguas.

Lunes 20 de Octubre:

Esta semana empieza la búsqueda o, mejor dicho, la pelea para una nueva profesora. Hoy día, igual que será el miércoles, fueron 3 candidatos cada una recibiendo una hora para hacer algo con la clase. Sus actividades, actitudes y relación con los niños fueron juzgadas por un grupo de padres y oficiales del ministerio de educación quienes estaban sentado en la parte trasera del aula. Algunas dirigieron canciones, otras trataron proyectos de arte y un señor aun trajo un traje de lobo para jugar el lobito. Por el fin de día cada niño tenía tres etiquetas decorados diferentes y demasiada energía de un día largo sin mucho tiempo para jugar afuera.
Interesante que en un país donde parece a ser tantos problemas con el sistema de educación, una escuela infantil puede pasar tanto esfuerzo y tiempo escogiendo la profesora perfecta. Si hay tanta gente que deseo trabajar como profesora, ¿porque hay esta falta tan grande de escuelas? Todas las escuelas y colegios son llenísimos hasta el punto de explotar. Parece que el problemas, por lo tanto, no esta en la falta de profesores, sino la falta de administración y recursos estructurales. O sea, no hay fondos suficientes para pegar más gente y por eso mientras si hay una necesidad grave, no hay una demanda alta para este trabajo de maestro. No es fácil transformar aun esta escuela pequeñita a una institución pública. No puedo imaginar el trabajo necesario para crear un colegio de tamaño más de triple el tamaño de muñequitos del principio.

Miércoles 22 de Octubre:

Hoy conocí a Erin, un voluntario de los EEUU quien ha regresado a Ecuador por dos meces para continuar con su trabajo en Lumbisí. Ella había estado estudiando y trabajando, igual como yo, hace un año aquí en el pueblo. Cuando nos trajo unos tomates del huerto para servir para el almuerzo, tenía una oportunidad a conversar con ella sobre su experiencia de regresar y ver el progreso de FEVI. Me contó que había ayudado a construir el edificio de muñequitos y que fue increíble verla funcionando como una escuela real: estudiantes, profesoras, arte por la pared y más. Aunque al tiempo de hacerla, una escuela organizada y finalizado parecía una meta elevada, ahora los sueños parecen cumplidos, completo con comida del huerto local.
Estaba muy alentador oír la historia de Erin porque a veces me pregunto la efectividad de una organización como FEVI. En un artículo escrito por Humphrey Tonkin y Diego Quiroga se describe perfectamente mis sentamientos. “Some students expressed a lack of organization in the agencies and frustration at the pace at which things moved” Sus conclusiones también coinciden con mis pensamientos, “.. but their operations must be judged on their own terms.” Esto parece muy sencillo pero a veces se requiere mucho tiempo para haber asumido. Cuando empiezo a comparar ONG’s ecuatorianos con programas norteamericanos, es obvio que hay diferentes. Pero, a la vez, son situaciones incomparables que requieren metidos y perspectivas únicas del lugar. Pensando en la manera en que tratamos, como estadounidenses, imponer nuestras ideas de eficiencia, materialismo e individualismo en el tercer mundo plantea preguntas sobre la naturaleza de palabras como desarrollo, pobreza, y necesidad.
Creo que mañana es el último día de pruebas y empezando el viernes, la rutina volverá a lo normal.

Lunes 27 de Octubre:

Cuando llegué esta mañana a la escuela, Fernandita me informó que esta semana será su ultima en la escuela. Jenny y yo nos quedaremos solas hasta el diciembre cuando viene otra profesora para la primavera. Fernanda va a empezar otra escuelita nueva en un pueblo cerca de Lumbisí. El lunes será el primer día de clases allá en el edificio recién construido para servir como escuela. Aprendí que su especialización es en crear sistemas de ecuación y como Muñequitos esta bien desarrollada, es hora de empezar de nuevo en otro lugar. Me contó que estaba nerviosa y en broma, nos pedió acompañarla, pero lo más triste será dejar todos los niños quien le quieren mucho. Inmediatamente todo el trabajo de las profesoras tenía más sentido. Todos los días que les pasaran haciendo decoraciones para el aula, ordenando y reordenando las mesas, estableciendo una rutina. Todo fue en preparación a pasar la escuela a otro profesor, a pasar una clase madurada y entrenada a alguien quien la recibirá sin conocimiento de todo este trabajo. Me invitó a visitarla en su nuevo trabajo, y aunque siento triste a despedirme a ella, tengo ganas de visitar esta escuela y ver el desarrollo del principio.
Cada día, desde casi un mes hay un formula más o menos fija para la mañana. Los niños llegan entre 7:30 y 8:00 a que hora todos entran en la cocina para el desayuno. Cuando acaban la comida, usualmente una colada y canguil o pan, cada estudiante recoge a su bolsita higiénica y cepilla a los dientes. Reciben pasta de Fernandita y comienzan a escupir y ensuciar las caras. Los lunes se formamos en dos colas por sexo y cantamos todos juntos el himno nacional. Ayudo a los chiquitos entender cual es la mano derecha y cruzarla sobre sus corazones. Entran, conejos y ositos, en sus aulas respectivos y pasan un tiempo poniendo la fecha nueva y repitiendo ‘Hoy es día Lunes 27 de Octubre del 2008,’ y contando los días en le calendario. Las siguientes dos horas son llenas de proyectos de arte, cuentos, rompecabezas, plastilina, bloques o alguna actividad que inventa las profesoras. A las 11, hay tiempo libre para jugar afuera antes de comimos otra vez a las 11:30. Padres empiezan a llegar tipo 12:00 y tan pronto como acaben su jugo y almuerzo, los niños pueden salir con sus chompas y deber. A mí me gusta mucho llevar los niños a la puerta y conversar con los abuelas o hermanos o cualquier persona quien esta mandado a llevar el niño. Típicamente vienen a pie o en bicicleta pero hay dos familias que tienen caro.
Hoy día avancé mucho en las lecciones de ingles. Me acordé una canción de números y la enseñe a los niños con mociones y dibujos. Es fascinante estar al otro lado del aprendizaje lingüístico. Tengo el presentimiento de que mi intervención aquí se multiplicará el lunes cuando perdimos nuestra Fernandita.

Mindo

This..is Mindo. I left Saturday morning with my friends Leo and Sarah and we spent the day ziplining through the rainforst, hiking around waterfalls and sipping fruit shakes...a favorite pass time of mine over here. Our hostal had a neat tree house feel and, besides the zillion bug bites I have all over my legs, it was pretty nice. The town is really small and you can walk though about all of it in 10 mins. but deep into the forest htere are a lot more things to do. Its always nice to travel with an Ecuadorian that can make sure you arn't getting the 'gringo' ripped off price for things. We always let him go into resturants and settle on a price first before we followed behind. We got home sunday night just in time for some homework and sleep before school the next day!

La Coasta

From top to bottom..left to right...(Sunday morning in Atacames..popular beach in Esmeraldas, Me and Sarah in one of the many shoreline bars lined with hammocks, Saturday night in Muisne we went to the only discoteca in town to see a local marimba preformance and dance with all of the kids that were running around, Ranked in the lowest quietile of poverty- this is a typical street in Musine, View from the bus on the way from Quito to the coast..African Palms, Isla Congal..kids playing soccer in the street, local fisherman boats which served as our mode of transpertation while island hopping on saturday, Tania- my program director- eating the best pinnaple that I have ever tasted in my life..picked it right from the station in Congal, The 'taxi's' of Atacames...aka carts hooked up to motercycles or bikes)

Reventador

10/6

"This weekend I added several new words to my Spanish vocabulary. Lodo (mud), avispa (wasp), aislante (sleeping mat), ceniza (ash), polilla (moth)…

Saturday morning I left with a group of about 20 friends from my Andinismo class for the orient, or eastern jungle of Ecuador. There we were headed to backpack through to the top of Reventador, a live volcano, to camp for the night. My friend Stephanie and I spent Friday afternoon running all over Quito buying/renting backpacks, sleeping bags, tents, botas de caucho (rubber boots), and lots of food. By 11 that night we felt fully prepared and slightly terrified for the next day. With a 5:30 wake up call a quick ride to the terrestrial station from Gonzolo (the sweet old man who works as a guard on my street), we left for the 5 hour bus ride.

When we hopped off in the middle of no where with our packs and boots, we immidietly just started hiking up a big hill..no instruction or warning. After awhile we got to the foot of a trail and were told that it would be about a 5 and a half hour hike and the usual reminder about how we were a group and no one would be left behind. The trail was exactly what I would picture a jungle in the middle of South America to look like. There were huge vines all over the place, lots of different shaped plants, strange bird calls and tons of deep wet mud. At some places ever step you would sink in about a foot and get that great suction sound when the boot was pulled out and replanted. I learned to look for tree roots and branches which buffered against getting stuck for long periods of time. Within an hour I was covered in mud and completely soaked..a mixture of sweat, rain and stream water. Lodo…

About half way through the trails I felt something stink my leg and let out a huge gasp. Slowly many people followed suit with screams and interspersed curse words. Still in shock I heard the guy behind me yell 'Corre corre!!' (RUN!) We were in the middle of a swarm of wasps..and while I made it through with only one bite..some people had 7 or 8 by the time it passed. Avispas…

It was the strangest experience to be walking through the wild green jungle to arrive suddenly in huge open space with very little vegetation at the base of the volcano. Looking around I felt like I had entered one of Dr. Suese's books with crazy carpet like ground and cooky bush things all over the place. We all crashed for a bit, taking off the mud covered boots and enjoing the feel of the ground under socks. The next few hours were spend setting up camp and playing in the stream which also served as our pure water source. We played camp type games until it got dark and it was so funny to teach and play games like psychiatrist and 'up the river' in Spanish. I helped my ñañito, Leo, collect bugs for his intomolgy class which resulted in lots of new insect vocabulary and more information about the whole process than I ever wanted to know.

The next morning we hiked up to the crater of the volcano to get a good view and then left back down the same trail. It was rainy and at parts a very steap drop..it goes without saying that the mud was all over the place. At the bottom we hung out on the highway and to catch the bus home. Being as there was a large group of us..we were dirty and had huge packs..3 buses passed before one stopped to pick us up. We had considered the option of 'halar dedo' hitchhiking.. but instead we formed a line across the highway practically forcing the next bus to take us in. There were no seats left so we spent the next 5 hours trying to stand on the crazy winding road back to Quito. I started a game of shrades..from the back of the bus to the front..and some of the other passengers even joined it..maybe one of the highlights of the trip. We made it back safe and sound about 6pm for a long awaited shower and good night sleep."

Quitofest!

These are some pictures of a big concert i went with Claire. There were tons of local bands and others from all around Latin America. We spent the night listening to the music and then walking around el Centro Historico with people we met at the concert. Its absolutly beautiful at night!

Sí o No?

Sat, Sep. 27

Today was the first ‘normal’ Saturday that I have had since I arrived in Ecuador over a month ago. I woke up relatively early, for a Saturday, to finish my midterm- a very big accomplishment as it was a three part essay written in Spanish-which I promptly sent off to the professor by 9am. I had made plans with my friend Leo yesterday to go jogging this morning around the park across the street from my house. He came and we met Claire in Parque Carolina for our run. Being as I still can’t last very long in our high altitude we lapped it once and then sat down in the grass to rest and toss the Frisbee. As we were starting to play around a little boy, maybe 6 years old came up and asked if he could play, ‘Quiero jugar!’ Thrilled, we began to play with our new amigitio, Yon Marques, and were quickly joined by three other friends and a cousin: Eva (age 2), Jefferson (5), Paúl (4) and Maribel, (probably also about 6) The 8 of us played a small game of fútbol and I think that all of them could have beat me, even the smallest one, with a blindfold on. I was playing golie and when I let the third goal through Yon let out a big screamed in frustration, ‘Courtney!!’ All I could do was laugh! Haha

The game was followed by hours of handstands, wheelbarrow races, swings, ring around the rosie, songs, tickle fights and laughter. We were even joined at one point by another little girl whose grandmother asked if we would mind letting her join in the fun. After a while, sitting with Jefferson tightly wrapped up in my arms we began to ask the kids about their parents. I hadn’t really thought anything of it, but after a few hours of not seeing an adult I had begun to wonder if the kids we just alone in the huge park. It was neat to have Leo there also to help when I couldn’t quite understand everything they were saying. Yon Marques pointed out his father to me as one of the many men across the street selling sweets and other random trinkets to the oncoming traffic. He said that his papí no longer loved his mamí, although they still slept in the same bed. Yon asked me if I loved my husband, and I told him that I wasn’t married, but I hoped that someday I would love him very much. ‘That’s good’ he responded. Leo at this point began to ask the boys what they wanted to be when they grew up. Without skipping a beat, Yon, the six year old, told us that he was to help his father sell things because they had a lot of debt to pay off. Claire had been passing around the dried fruit that she had just received in a package from the states and so Yon’s speech was complimented by a ‘Que rico,’ o ‘Que delisciosos estos’ in between every other sentence. They where kids..chiquitos..but like so many of children in Ecuador, already so old. We left the park with huge hugs from each child and a promise to look for each other in the coming Saturdays. Its funny how with kids you only need 10 minuets and a soccer ball to be best friends. Just to play. Glorious.

But Jesus said, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children.” And he placed his hands on their heads and blessed them. Matt 19: 14-15

Leo and Claire spent the day at my house, doing homework, messing around with some salsa moves and just hanging out. Later that night I started talking with Leo about the elections that the country is going to have tomorrow for the new constitution. We talked about the difference between the political and social structures here in Ecuador and in the United States. The US knows no poverty like that of Ecuador. Americans, it seem, always have some sort of opportunity, whether this a soup kitchen in New Jersey or a job training center down the street from some friends who live in Chicago. There are places in Latin American where the people have no options, no outside connects, no dreams of change..only the reality of there lives in that moment which may or may not include shelter and food for the day. 50% of Ecuador’s population and 88% of those whole live in rural Ecuador, are considered poor. That is to say they, for a family of four (which most, if not all are much larger) incomes are under $357 per month. 61% are reported as not having enough for basic necessities including food, shelter, education and health.

I don’t think that I have talked much about the political situation yet in this country, but Ecuador is in the midst of a huge campaign for a new constitution that would push the country towards a more socialist society. Everyone here reads the news papers and the 6 news stations are the channels most frequently visited by Quitaños. Even with the excess of 446 articles there are many people who have also studied in detail the new components of the consitution to formulate strong opinions. Si o No..everyone will have something to tell you about the right way to go. The gratafi in the streets, posters lining the buses, radio commercial and even concerts benefiting either postions are insane. There was actually a rock band playing one night, singing a song with lyrics saying something to the extent of “I’m going to cry cry cry if the ‘no’ wins…du nu nu..You are so blind blind blind..” To explain a bit, on a very basic level, Rafeal Correa, the current president of Ecuador has formulated along with a constitutional committee, a constitution that moves Ecuador towards the left. If the ‘sí’ wins, Correa continues with his new laws, the rich people lose money, there are more programs for the poor, more fixed prices, etc. If the ‘no’ wins Correa resigns, replacing the assembly with its former members who were corrupt in every sense of the word, and things stay, more of less, the same.

I personally find Correa himself fascinating. Leo, a strong supporter of the ‘sí’ one day told me his life story. Growing up in a very poor family the president worked hard to make it to a university, received his degree in Economics at San Francisco and then headed off to the states to follow up with a PhD. In Champaign IL Correa completed his schooling before returning to Ecuador to teach at the same University. Among other things Correa lived for a year in a very small, highly underdeveloped community without even running water near Cotopaxi, engaging with the people there and learning about the poverty in his own country. The man speaks fluently Spanish, English, French and Quetcha. When I was in a research library a few weeks ago, I had unknowingly chosen to study in the same place Correa was scheduled to speak that afternoon. I was thoroughly impressed with his public speech and appearance. The last president who tired to go leftist died in a ‘mysterious plane crash’ coming back from the States. There is no denying that Correa has guts for the changes he is trying to make. As far as I can tell there is no reason not to trust the president who appears to have been, thus far, true to his word. However there are lots of new promises being made in his campaign that push many people to believe him to be a liar.

My family, for example would defend the ‘no’ with all of their lives. My mom will rant about how the people are blind and they don’t know what they are doing. They don’t seem to have much grounding for this opinion however other than the highly propagandized tv broadcasting. When I was listening to Correa speak I was so stunned at the arrival of the president that I sent my mom a text telling her that I was physically 3 meters from the president of Ecuador. The only response I received was ‘pégale.’ That is to say, ‘slap him for me.’ All I could do was laugh.

There are many complications and things to consider, but from what I can gather the ‘sí’ stands for some sort of change. No one would tell you that they are satisfied with the country as it is now and the ‘sí’ represents a hope for the next generation. It might not be perfect, but as Leo says, ‘it’s something..if you can’t think of anything better, let me know, but for now, we have to keep dreaming.’

Leo walked me through, as many people have, Ecuador’s political history in the past 20 years and the corruption and pain it has faced. We talked about immigration, racism, the catholic church and the kids we had met that same morning. He told me that when he was in middle school his father left for the states to work, the same situation that faces almost all families in this country. The impossibility of receiving a work visa forces desperate men into illegal work bussing tables and cleaning facilities after hours in a country where they often can’t communicate with anyone. Mr. Ortgega was gone for two years and Leo said that it got to the point where he asked his father not to email him anymore because every time he would open a message he would begin to cry. Better not to read at all. I thought about Ricardo, about the millions of immigrants that have families waiting for them, depending on them to make enough money our ‘land of prosperity’ so that they can return home.

It’s a scary though to venture outside of my secure democratic, capitalist world. ‘Socialism’ in the states is a tainted word, but maybe here it is a different world, in need of a different solution. In a system where policeman never enforce traffic laws, people have no incentive to obey regulation, children travel hours in bus to arrive at school in dirty, used uniforms and infants work on street corners juggling for money, someone needs to get involved. If this be the government, at this point, I say, let’s give it a try. Tomorrow is going to be a crazy day. Sí or no? We’ll find out…

Salsa

Fri, Sep. 26

San Francisco, as I have said before, is a commuter college. Most of the students live about an hour away from the university. This year there has been a huge initiative to start ‘Campus Life’ which includes lots of different clubs and opportunities for students to get to know each other outside of class. My favorite part of the week has become Wednesday and Friday afternoons when the Salsa club meets. Two weeks ago I was invited to be a part of the advanced group that stays an hour after the normal club. There are five or six professors (students) who come to teach from 1 to 3 and then from 3 to 4 we learn all the crazy hard moves and just dance. We have been working recently on Salsa Cubana in a rueda which is a bit of a different style. All of the pairs dance within a circle (the rueda) and there is one leader who is calling out passes. Each call, be it enchufa, enchufa moderna, pelota uno, prima, dame, sácalo, quince, treinta, setenta, setenta y uno, hermana, enchufa evelyn, cruza de brazos, etc, means something different. Most passes have you change partners, but regardless, everyone is doing the same thing in the same counts. When we warm up at the beginning of class it feels like speed dating because we are just going through all the passes, changing partners every 15 second and it’s just enough time for you to greet each of your friends. I’m always laughing.
My favorite pass so far starts with a normal spin and ends with everyone holding hands spinning in and out and then a change of partners. I’m going to try and film it one day because words just don’t seem to do it justice.

Kenner Rushco

Wed, Sep. 24

I love it here. I can’t imagine life right now without a hug each morning from the kids that arrive ready to swing on trees, glue things on paper and sing ‘Sol Solicita..’ while dancing in a circle. As I begin to know the kids and we remember each others names (I have become Profet Courley..Courtney just seems too difficult for everyone) I feel more and more attached to my work here at the school. Each day I seem to glean more and more responsibility and the teachers are becoming more comfortable putting me in charge of other things. Most of the time I’m just playing with kids, passing out papers, manning the gate or rounding up the troops, but none the less, I’m a part of the system.
On of my favorite students, Kenner Uscho, is one of those kids who is never in a bad mood, always ready to sing at the top of his lungs, and usually has to be repetitively called out for having to much to say or taking too long to return in from playing outside. Often times Kenner is the last child to be picked up and we get extra time to chat or play with the toy truck in the front yard. Although I’ve met Lorena, his twelve year old sister who picks him up, I don’t recall every seeing either of them with a parent or other adult. They usually just walk off together, Lorena talking his backpack and Kenner running along ahead. Today Kenner told me that I should walk home with them as I was getting ready to leave by the time Lorena came to get him. I happily agreed and began the long journey up the hill with the two kids. Lorena, who was fascinated by the fact that I spoke English, told me that she took care of Kenner every day and only attended school on Saturdays. She said that they had a ton of other brothers and sisters but I’m not quite sure where they were, maybe waiting at the house. She liked soccer, math and history, and seemed, for the most part, just like a normal kid. But her ragged clothes and eyes that seem aged beyond her years told me otherwise. I walked with the two of them to their house, said my goodbyes, and headed for my bus that daily takes me back to my other life

Festejamos!!

So birthdays are a really big deal here in Ecuador. When someone finds out its your birthday, even if you just met them, they give you a big hug and say, 'festejamos'..'lets party.' Friday morning I was woken up my mom and sister with flowers and presents. They sang happy birthday in English, always funny, and told me I should go back to sleep. haha I did get to sleep in a bit and then headed to school for my one class. On fridays there is a salsa club that meets at the University. After class I met some friends and we joined in the lessons. We're learning right now Salsa cubano and how to do different moves changing up pairs with different passes. Usually there are four couples and when the leader shouts different commands we do different spins or moves to change partners. Really fun. After dancing, my friends Leo and Pablo took me to a resturant that is famous for its Ceviches..a soup with onions, shrimp that is very tipical of the Ecuadorian coast. Later that night they picked me up to meet some more people downtown to go to a discoteca. My frist experience in this type of ecuadorian nightlife. I learned that its not exactly my scene..but it was fun to be dancing and be with friends.

Fuya Fuya

9/14

This weekend was the first trip for my andinismo class, and my first excursion out of Quito. Saturday morning 17 of us met at the Train Station to catch a train and then a bus to Otavalo. Otavalo is a really neat city about an hour and a half (more on a bus) outside of Quito. The group was really great, and it was fun to get to know a group of people really well. If you go away for the weekend..and climb a mountain together.. you automatically get really close. J In Otavalo we dumped our stuff at the hostel and then headed to the ‘cascadas’ (waterfalls) where we were going to do some repelling. We took a long path to this beautiful sight with lots of falls and hiked all the way to the top. From there we rolled up our pants and traveled through the water to this cave where our leader began stripping off all of his clothes. Everyone sort of followed suit and Diego led us underneath some falls where we had the biggest water fight I have ever been a part of in my life. Fully soaked and freezing, we went back to the drop and set up for the repel. The whole trip was a very different feel than things in the States. Very little precaution is taken and you just sort of go. We were crossing bridges about 2 inches thick, jumping vallies.. and no one even instructed us how to repel..we just sort of went with a carabineer and no helmets. It was amazing to be walking down the side of such a powerful waterfall with water splashing all over your face. After every one had gone we started back to the hostel... walking through the beautiful city at dusk with our packs and gear.

That night we all ate together at the hostel. There was an amazing live band playing traditional Quetcha music. As soon as the food was done and the wine came out everyone started to dance. We tried to learn some of the traditional moves, but more or less we were all just messing around. The other people (some Europeans) staying the hostel joined in a bit later and we made a big line of bridges to dance through. By the time things died down it was about 10. I figured that since we had an early wake up call..and a full day of hiking ahead of us, we would call it a night..but no, not in Ecuador. Every pueblo and city in Ecuador has their own fiestas..and it just so happened that Otavalo was in the middle of some great parties. We walked a few blocks from the hostel and found another band playing more or less the same sort of music. There were people everywhere dancing, eating, selling things and just typical Ecuador fiesta-ing. The good thing about this country is that all guys have rhythm haha..we got back to the hostel at about 1:30 the next morning.

Day two we all loaded into a big truck..and drove down a windy path up to the base of Fuya Fuya. From there we hiked to the top..well into the clouds and then basically ran down once we got there. Lots of amazing views, great pictures and near accidents (haha)

I return home very dirty, exhausted and amazing that is has only been 2 days..

La Republica

Sep. 7

Like most days here, I woke up this morning not knowing exactly what the day would hold. Every other Sunday Quito closes off its streets for people who want to try the ‘Ciclopaseo’ and basically ride bikes across the whole city and back. Claire had mentioned something about it, but because I couldn’t get my hands on a bike, I decided that I would try to find a church. It has been interesting to see that apart from being at Wheaton, I have to be much more intentional about seeking out fellowship. Everything I know about my faith is in English..I read my bible in English, pray in English and even think about God..in English. Unfortunately between a desire for Spanish, finding friends, classes, work and family.. chruch had been kind of on the back end of my priorities. But, praise God, as always, He was subtly leading me exactly where he wanted me to go. Carlos had told me about a church called ‘La Republica’ that is very near to my house. It is a missions Alliance church (Abby! I thought of you!) that holds a huge congregation in a very beautiful building. I called his wife, Rebecca, for directions and walked over about 9 thinking that this was when the service started. It was a short walk, but it turns out I was there an hour early. Here is when I began to realize..once again, the way in which God is always watching out for me. The first person I could find to ask about the time of the service turning out to be the head of the Welcome committee for the church. Gorge showed me around, introduced me to everyone we passed and even took me to meet the pastor. After a while he passed me off to some younger folks who continued to indroduce me to what seemed like the entire congregation. Alex, one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met, and her boyfriend Andres, sat with me through the service, made sure I knew what was going on, and then took me out to lunch with a bunch of others afterwards. I’m going to join her small group as well which meets on Thursday nights..It seems like it is going to be really good. (the pic is at the house of the biblestudy...i posted this later than i wrote it..with Alex)

Week Two…and I don’t ever want to leave!

Sat. Sep. 6

I think I’ve finally become a part of a group at school. Leo and Diego, my first Ecuadorian friends have slowly introduced me to the rest of their crowd and intermixed with a few gringos here and there I meet up with them in between classes, to grab lunch, and usually to catch the buss home. Leo makes fun of me because I stear clear of most white people in fear that they will want to talk English..something I’ve really enjoyed not doing for the most part..aside from these writings. On Friday I left from Lumbisi to meet a group of them at the University. Me and another girl watched a bunch of the guys play soccer for awhile then all of us piled into Diego’s car to drive back to Quito. Most of the time everyone takes buses, but occasionally someone will borrow a car and take all of their friends home. With 5 people in the back seat we were laughing the whole time. All of the Ecuadorian guys I know are super funny..and they are always surprised that I jump right in and make fun of them even though I’m the one struggling. ‘Siempre te burlas! O Te caigo bien’ they say. Every says my Spanish is really good..and although I know they are just being polite, I can tell that everyday it is getting better.

Anyways, One of Leo’s friends from high school was visiting for the weekend so the plan was to meet up with them in the ‘Mariscal’ (Quito’s downtown full of restaurants and bars) after I had a chance to shower and clean up a bit. Apart from the night I went out salsa dancing (another long story) it was my first time to ‘go out.’ As my night at Serseribó, a famous salsa club, had been kind of a disaster, Leo and I were looking for a place where he could teach me a bit of his crazy salsa skills. The boys showed me around a bit, but because it was only 4:00 not many places had dancing yet, we settled at a little bar with a patio overlooking the street crowed with people. After awhile two other girls that Javo knew joined us and we spend the afternoon talking and laughing. (oh yea..Leo’s friend from HS is named Javier for all of you who know the significance of that name! haha) After awhile a Salsa song came one and even though there wasn’t really a space for dancing we ran inside to use the music for what it was worth. It was so fun to actually be dancing with someone I knew and he was very patient making sure I got all the steps. It was so great too because in the states if someone started dancing in the middle of the bar people would react..but here, it was just normal. I think I’m ready to try out the Salsarias again, but I made Leo promise that he would come and bring more guys for us to dance with! I’m thinking about signing up for privet lessons too once a week.

I went that night to sleepover with Claire and meet her family. Javo lives really near her so it worked out great to travel together. Its about an hour north to her house on bus and its really dangerous to be alone at night. The boys were really careful and a bit obsessively paranoid that I be safe. They made me call Claire about 3 times to make sure she would be right there at the bus stop Javo said if he didn’t see her right with the bus stopped he was going to get off with me. They always make me text them when I get home too just to be sure. (This is for you mom..I promise I am very well taken care of!) Claire’s siblings are much younger than my sisters and it was so fun to get to hang out with them for the night. Stephi, her sister, is the age of the girls I had this summer and I really enjoyed trying to keep up with her fast Spanish and teenage culture. It is so interesting to talk about our different experiences living with families and get to meet and share that part of our lives together.

Today, having caught up a bit on sleep, I returned home in time to meet Leo and Pablo to go to the Ecuador-Boliva soccer game at Olympic stadium. I didn’t think I was going to get to go..but the day before Pablo assured me we could scalp some tickets outside the stadium..he was right. I know I always rave about these boys, but I LOVE that most of my friends have turned out to be Ecuadorian because I get to meet lots of people, do things the right way and never have to do much planning. Pablo had two of the bright yellow jersey’s so he brought one for me to wear..except for the white skin, I totally fit in! They also brought sun screen because they knew I would burn not being used to Ecuadorian sun. They never let me carry my own bag, warn me about anything I might not expect culturally and never get tired of teaching me new words or phrases. Sometimes I call Leo ‘Profesor’ because he’ll randomly quiz me on vocabulary or things I had learned the day before. Pablo on the other hand just makes fun of him and we joke back and forth about his goofy English accent. I taught him yesterday the phrase, ‘You crack me up’ because I was dying laughing the whole time.

Soccer games, they say are the only place where it is ok to use bad language publically. The crowd was CRAZY! They are always screaming at the ref ‘arbitro’ and oh my goodness..when Ecuador scores, its like Christmas morning. Everyone yells ‘GOOOOOOL’, jumps up and down, hugs all of the people around them..and this goes on for about five minutes. My favorite cheer was ‘Vamos Equatorianos, Esta tarde, tenemos que ganar…’ Ask me and I’ll sing if for you when I get back! Haha Well, Ecuador dominated Boliva and we left in a crowd of people honking horns and screaming with excitement. Pablo dropped me off at home again…I think I’ll be asleep by 8:00!