Round Three: Worldteach Ecuador!

Hey faithful blog readers! It's been a long time sense I have used this journal, and regretfully I did not keep a good account of last summer's adventures in Ecuador. However, this post marks the beginning of South America trip number three!

As many of you know (or can piece together from this blog) I spent fall semester 2008 living and studying in Quito Ecuador. I was so enthralled with the country that I decided to spend the next summer volunteering in a small town called Lumbisí that sits right outside of the big city. Ecuador, now less of an 'experience,' and more my second home will again be my residence for the next year as I begin my new post-college life with a program called Worldteach.

Worldteach is similar to a 'Teach for America program,' for foreign countries. Orientation starts on August 17th and will consist of a month long training period in English as a second language, teaching skills, cultural awareness and in-class room practicum. From there I will be placed, along with the other 42 volunteers, into the Ecuadorian public school system as a full time, governmentally employed English teacher. (yikes!!!)

I leave about two weeks from today on August 5th figuring that I need a few weeks to visit friends and get logistics worked out before the program starts. I will be arriving in Lumbisí to stay with my old host-familiy during the first part of August. Typical of Latin American, I really don't have many more details at this point. Hopefully before I leave I will know my placement location, living situation, etc...but for now I'm relishing in an extreme lesson of patience :)

It makes me laugh to look back at this blog and read some of the blogs that I tried to post in Spanish. Let's hope that my grammar has improved some sense then. If I do post in Spanish this time I promise I'll try and keep things translated :) Or those of you who wish to know whats going on could just keep going with that Rosetta Stone (caugh caugh mom and dad caugh ) hehe. Anyways, thanks for reading!

Hasta Pronto!

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."