Life at Latitude 3

I was sitting in the computer lab on another day, when I met a new teacher named Lissie. Lissie is engaged to an Ecuadorian, and is not having an easy time getting used to the culture here. We talked at length about the various aspects of Ecuadorian culture and relationships, and then cross-cultural relationships, that can be amusing, confounding, infuriating, etc. Then, Lissie made a comment that took me aback. She said, “I just don´t things are this hard back in the US. I mean, I just don´t think we have all the strict social rules that they have down here.” I did my best to gently remind her that we do in fact have strict social rules in the US, but bec. we’ve had a lifetime to learn and live them, we don’t even know they are rules, bec. they’re “normal” to us. We don’t have to think about them anymore than we must think about the grammatical structure of the English language in order to speak it. But someone who is learning English is very cognizant of English grammar, even if they don’t always use it correctly. And someone who enters the US for the first time is very conscious that there are new social rules that that must be learned and followed.

For example, here in the US, generally speaking, if you were to throw a water balloon at a total stranger, there would be hell to pay. But in Cuenca, during the month of Feb., it’s what people do. February in latinamerica means Carnaval, and in Cuenca, Carnaval means water.

Quick history/religious/etymology lesson:

In the US, the word “carnival” generally is associated with roller coasters, cotton candy, games, and giant stuffed animals, etc. But in LatinAmerica and in many other parts of the world, it´s an actual holiday.  Many historians believe the word comes from the latin words, Carne and Vale, which put together, mean “Goodbye to meat.” Originally, it was a Roman festival that took place directly before Lent to help prepare Christians for the period in which they were not allowed to eat meat.  As the Roman empire spread, so did this festival.  When colonists came to the Americas, Carnaval came with them.  Today, like so many holidays with religious roots, Carnaval is known less for its religious ties and more for its fun and festive nature.  In many countries, people are doused with flour, sugar, or just about anything white.  But in Cuenca, Carnaval means water, and lots of it.
It means that you might be walking down the street quite innocently, and will get soaked, quite uninnocently, by a water gun, a water balloon, or any other form of liquid being projected at you. Attackers can come from anywhere, but they generally come from kids driving around in cars, or from balconies. Considering Cuenca´s colonial style architecture, there are a lot of balconies here. It´s all taken in good fun, and one really shouldn´t get too upset, bec. if you don´t want to get wet, well, you shouldn´t be walking down the street without a raincoat.

One day, after having been soaked just a few too many times, Rachel and I decided we needed to buy arms. Water arms. It didn´t take us long to find what we needed – right now all the little (and big) stores are selling water guns. Not just piddly water pistols, mind you – oh no – we´re talking 1500 model super soakers!!!!! We considered getting one of those, but decided instead to go w. these hose things that are attached to a water pack you wear on your back. Wearing my pack, I feel a bit like a ghostbuster.

When our good friend Tito called us and invited us to Baños (thermal swimming pool), we seized our opportunity to do drive-by watering. There was much squealing, giggling, and uproarious laughter. The best was when we soaked this group of young guys walking down the street, only to realize that they themselves were armed with small water balloons! The next thing we knew, they were charging Tito´s car, and since we couldn´t get the windows rolled up fast enough, they got us back and good! oh, good times. Tito was absolutely shocked to learn that neither in Australia nor the US is there an official holiday season in which it is completely legit, acceptable, and really even expected, to soak total strangers without any fear.
The actual Carnaval wknd is not until Feb 18th, but I got my share of water fun before I left.

Another look at Poverty

I was sitting in the computer lab when I overheard a couple of study abroad kids talking. Apparently they each have to choose a site to do a volunteer project, and I overheard one girl talking about an all-girls orphanage in town. I was pretty sure she was talking about Hogar Miguel Leon, the place that I go to, but I listened for a bit before saying anything. She was telling the other guy about how impoverished the orphanage is, how saggy the beds look, how the kids prob. never get fed because they only get $.50 a day in government aid, how the kids´ parents are all druggies, losers,etc., how dirty the place is, etc. As you can, the picture she painted was rather pathetic. She admitted that she didn´t get to actually meet the girls, as they were all in school, but she said that based on what she´d seen, it prob. would´ve broken her heart to have seen them, imagining that they were dressed in rags and had dirt-smeared faces.

It was such a moment for me, and finally, I had to say something. I had to tell her that that is one of the best communities that I´ve ever been a part of, and that those little girls are some of the most joyful beings I´ve ever been around. No, they don´t have all the material luxuries that we in middle class USA have come to expect, but they have some luxuries that we´ll never know, too. And while the little girls experience all the playground and sibling drama that we all must content with, I´ve never seen them lacking for food, company, entertainment, or affection. And yes, maybe their beds wouldn´t be good enough for us, or maybe the place is a bit messier than our apts. But 1) show me a house where children live, and I doubt that it is neat and tidy on a daily basis, and 2) those little girls are lucky to have warm beds in a country where 70% of the population lives in poverty. And, I´ve met some of their parents, and they are not all druggies or losers. Some are just poor and are doing the damned best that they can. I give them credit for making the best decisions they can for their children, in spite of, and I´ve watched, how heartbreaking it is for both parent and child to say goodbye after a parental visit.
I love that community so much, and it really pained me to hear this total stranger taking pity on the girls, bec. the girls don´t need or want her pity. They don´t see themselves as poor. They only suspect that something might be “wrong” with them when people like her, and I´ve seen it happen, come in and treat them like poor beings who are in desperate need of outside help.

Well, on that weird note, I’m going to sign off. I’m back in the states, so by next blog shall be all about the joy I experienced during the 38 hour journey back to the states, and how it warmed my heart to be with family and friends in the wintry cold midwestern plains.

con mucho carino de Iowa!!!!!

A friend of mine who worked at the CEDEI school had to go back to the states unexpectedly.

quick interjection: the CEDEI School is a separate branch from the CEDEI English dept., where I work. the School is a bilingual school which teaches up to 2nd grade, and as young as what we would call daycare. But I don´t do daycare. I do Early Stimulation, which means that we are still interacting with the littlest guys in a very educational way. Every class has a national (Ecuadorian) teacher, and an international teacher (those of us from the UK, Australia, US, etc). Even though most of us are bilingual, or can to some degree speak the other language, we are to speak only our 1st language to the children so that they hear fluently, for several hours a day, both languages. I really respect the director´s vision, as she hopes that the children learn far more than how to add, vocab. words, etc. Every month we focus on a specific country, and a different social value. They have also worked very hard to integrate children with different needs into the classroom, and we talk about what all children, regardless of their needs or status, can contribute to their community. I love it.
Anyway, there are still 4 months left in their school year, and as I´d temped at the school last year, she asked me if I could step in again. When I agreed to help her out, she handed over to me her unbelievably adorable class of 2-3 year olds.
On the one hand, these little guys are great for my mental health. In the states, people who work with children work in constant fear of being too physically involved with the children, for fear of sexual molestation accusations. But here, hugs and kisses for and from the little ones, on a regular basis, are encouraged if not mandatory. However, on the other hand, as most of you know, my experience and education centers around counseling, university student services, and teaching English to teens and adults. I have no experience in developing lesson plans for 2-3 yr olds.

Right now we´re learning opposites, animals, shapes, and the primary colors. While I´m learning how to come up with interesting activities to teach these concepts to the kids, Martin specifically is learning that he isn´t allowed to hit people, Pascal is learning that pouting doesn´t get him very far, Camila is learning that I have absolutely no tolerance for whininess, and a few of the others are learning how to use the toilet.  I had to laugh the other day when my partner, Tia Isa, was reminding the kids of how to go to the bathroom. I thought of all the urine or feces related incidences we had in the halls, and how those students, in their 20´s would´ve benefitted from Tia´s words.  Keyla, who is actually one of the happiest little girls I´ve ever known, is learning to not say “oiga” whenever she wants something. Oiga literally translates to the formal command, Listen, but is used when we would say, “HEY! I´m talking to you!” Whenever she says Oiga (about 100x a day) the other tia or I say, Who is Oiga? My name´s not Oiga! What´s my name?
In addition to teaching them, I am also 1 of 2 computer teachers for the whole school. And for those of you who know me to any degree are as greatly amused by that positioning as I am. Me – one of the least technologically minded people I know – in charge of the computers. Thankfully all I have to do is turn on the computers and pull up the programs that the kids are already familiar with. But it´s still very challenging, because the kids come in and just want to bang away on the keyboard, or push whatever button they can find, or know that they´re supposed to be using the mouse to do something. But since they can´t read, they´re just clicking away at anything. I spend half my time redirecting the kids back to the intended programs, and trying to keep them from turning the computers off.

Right now I live with 2 other teachers from the states. Both are respectful, and from that angle, I count my blessings.  But living with respectful people, and respectful people whose company you genuinely enjoy are 2 different things.  I´ve had some really great roommates (and you know who you are!) in the past, so I guess I can´t push my luck everytime.  I live a guy from the US named Tom, who has lived the last 8 yrs abroad teaching.  But even though he´s been in Ecuador since January, he´s done very little to actually experience the country outside of Cuenca.  I love Cuenca, but it is only one piece of Ecuador´s colorful puzzle.  And he hasn´t even really experienced Cuenca, either.  He spends most of his time in our apt or on our terrace, smoking, drinking, or reading.  When really cool things are happening within a block or 2 of our house, as they often are, Tom can still be found, as always, in our apt.  It´s really of no concern to me, but it just flummoxes me how someone can come to a culture as vibrantly rich as Ecuador, and do nothing but teach, smoke, drink, and read all day, every day.  We also live with Merryn, who is currently wrapped up with an Ecuadorian married man whose German spouse is waiting for him back in Germany.  Freaking Lifetime movie in the making.
Cuenca just celebrated its 450th anniversary. Those of us from the states can´t imagine, as our country isn´t even that old. Cuenca loves celebrating itself, and of course for this big event nothing was held back. I have seen oodles of parades in Cuenca, but the anniversary parade was still quite spectacular. It was also the first parade I´ve seen here that actually had floats, and they were really quite impressive. I didn´t take any pictures of the parade because 1) I´d loaned my camara to a friend, and 2) for the most part, you´ve seen most of what I would´ve captured anyway.

Right now Cuenca is also enjoying a biannual international arts show.  One thing I have always loved about Cuenca is its accessiblity of the arts.  Anyone can walk into any of its museums or galleries right now and see world-class art exhibits, totally for free. And with Cuenca´s rich colonial architecture, strolling up and down its streets, wandering in and out of the various colonial buildings that house the exhibits, is in of itself just a pleasure.

I and everyone else is so thankful that it´s May 1, which means that hopefully the rainy season will soon be coming to an end.  It has either rained, or been despressingly overcast nearly every day since I came back in March.  It rarely rains all day, but the rain is so intermittent that you are just stupid if you leave your house without some type of rain gear, even if you plan on being out for only 1/2 hr.

well, hope all is well with all of you, whereever you may be in the world!

love jenni

I feel like I´m breaking up with Ecuador. This country that, by the time I leave, will have been my home for 2 and a half years. I don´t leave for good for another 3 months, but I know that that time will go by so quickly. I feel that I´ve definitely taken adavantage of my time here, and while I haven´t done everything that can be done in Ecuador (never made it to Esmeraldas, and prob. won´t), I won´t leave with a backpack of regrets.

It is so nice to finally be able to tell people that I at least have a vague plan for my future – go back to the States, look for a job, etc. But the other night I met these guys, and they were like, wait, you like living in Ecuador and you speak Spanish; why are you leaving?!?! The only thing I could say is “ya es la hora, es la hora.” “It´s just time. It´s time.”

One day, I’m swimming with penguins in the Galapagos, and the next thing I know, I’m watching the mailman shovel his car out of the snow, because he got stuck trying to pull up to our mailbox.  Okay, a few things happened in between.

It seems so fitting that my last 6 days in Ecuador will be unforgettable.  For one thing, walking could be excrutiating, thanks to my bout with seasickness on the way back from Isla Bartolome.  I had no idea that vomiting so much and so violently could strain a back muscle, but that’s exactly what I did.  Friends told me that I should just relax, but that was clearly out of the question – it was my final week in Cuenca.  I had goodbyes to say, loose ends to tie, things to see for the last time, etc etc.

I’m not one of those people who dread or avoid saying goodbye.  There were certain people in Cuenca that I wanted and needed to say goodbye to – to thank them for being a wonderful part of my Cuenca life.  When I went to say goodbye to my tomato woman, I found out that she had a some kidney problems, and wouldn’t be back to work for a month.  Her daughter told me if I gave her mom my phone number, she’d call me, and sure enough, she did.  This woman, who’d sold me pounds and pounds of tomatoes and other fresh produce, who never knew my name and never told me her name, called me so that we could say goodbye to each other.  When I went to say goodbye to Luis, he hugged me like a father would hug his daughter.  And even after that, he called me, just to say goodbye one last time.  When I went to say goodbye to Piedad, the sweet waitress at Akelarre, I could tell she meant it when she said, No te vayas!  I had to cut that goodbye a bit short because I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. And when I went to say goodbye to Amigo, he gave me one of the sweetest hugs, and said some really sincere and kind things.  I will never forget any of those goodbyes.

By midweek I felt very tired.  In part from my back pain, which could be fine one minute, but flare viciously the next, in part from having to say all my goodbyes, and in part from just making sure I hadn’t forgotten something important.

But finally, Sunday night came.  After saying goodbye to Pato, Brian walked with me down to the corner of Padre Aguirre and Calle Larga to hail a taxi.  We looked up to see globitos floating silently into the night sky.  What a perfect last thing to see in Cuenca.  Brian gave me a good send-off hug, and then the taxi whisked me away.

I had the most amazing travel karma on the way home. No long layovers, no delays, no lost baggage – absolutely everything went perfectly.  What a nice way to start my new life!

Back in the states, I was confronted with abnormally frigid temps, and a political onslaught brought on by the Iowa caucus.  It occurred to me that I’d never been in Iowa as a voting adult, and it was actually kind’ve fun to participate in something that I’d heard about my whole life.

I was shocked to learn that the Barnes and Nobles in Des Moines has an escalator, with no optional stairs.  And that neither Barnes and Nobles nor Borders sells the National Geographic in Spanish.

In the short time that I’ve been back, it’s been nice and comforting to spend relaxed time with my family.  In the last few years, every time I saw them there was always this underlying knowledge that my time with them would be brief, as I had so many people to see during my short visits home.  I’ve gotten to see my niece and nephew several times, already, and they’re really fun little guys.

I’m slowly being reminded of how much fun job-searching is.  In all seriousness, there are days.  Days when it’s discouraging, as I scour my favorite internet sites, only to find jobs that totally interest me, but for which I don’t totally qualify.  And on those days the silence of the phone can be unnerving and disheartening.  And then other days, like today, I find several positions that really excite me and raise my hope as I realize that my experience completely prepares me for the position.

Today was the first day since I’ve been home (nearly 3 wks) that I’ve really been able to go for a walk.  It’s either been way too cold, too gray and mush, too snowy, etc etc.  But today was a crisp blue day, temps in the high teens, just perfect for pulling on some wool and taking a stroll ’round the block.

1. Favorite everyday words: “Siga no mas,” “Buen provecho,” “Chuta!” and “Chendo!”
2. Fresh fruits and veggies all year round, just outside my front door
3. People cruising the streets with wheelbarrows vending fruit
4. The freshest juices, ice cream, yogurt, and fruit salads, made with delicious tropical fruits
5. Being strangle-mugged and all the bureaucratic fun that followed
6. Spring eternal: swollen rivers sing past graceful calla lilies and fragrant jacandará trees in bloom
7. Reserva Cuyabeno: Beautiful Blue, falling asleep to falling Amazon rain, and finally understanding why losing the gifts of the rainforest would be unforgivable
8. The vibrant flower market 2 blocks from my apt. where a dozen roses costs less than $2.50
9. Jewel-colored hummingbirds
10. Cuenca´s charming colonial style architecture with its wrought-iron balconies, cobblestone streets, and overall cleanliness – all of which maintains its centro´s UNESCO world-heritage status
11. Buena gente: Amigo (aka beer man), my fruit woman, my tomato woman, and my bread people
12. Coming home at night to find kids playing soccer on my street
13. Streets strewn with rose petals (evidence of a recent religious processional)
14. Fiery castillos ablaze under globito-studded night skies
15. Randomly walking around and always finding something happening
16. Like Indigenous dance festivals, which still mesmerize me completely
17. Watching breakdancing in the gazebo on Sunday afternoons
18. All things Otavaleño: their cultural integrity, their business acumen, their physical beauty, their distinct dress, their world famous market, their woolen goods, etc.
19. Brown eggs and boxes or bags (no jugs) of milk
20. El Cajas National Park

21. $1 meals complete with mote, soup, at least two forms of starches, meat, and juice
22. Tasty snacks that are fun to say: salchipapas, papipollos, quimbolitos, llapingachos, etc.
23. Pato
24. Aichaichai!!! Wondering how it can be so bone-chilling cold at the equator, and not being warm unless you´re ensconced inside with a piping hot mug of manzanilla tea
25. Looking out the bathroom window and seeing Cuenca´s signature blue domes gleaming during the day, and at night, the San Francisco church lit up
26. Rediscovering the peace and joy of Christmas in the Old Cathedral
27. An enviable nation-wide bus system
28. Bus music (loud and endless), movies (loud and violent), and vendors (loud and “Colon cleanser! Donkey extract!”)
29. Green golf ball-sized lemons that make cuba libres and homemade guacamole very happy
30. Akelarre: Iñigo, the friendly owner, Piedad (the sweet waitress), and indie movies every Mon.
31. Perusing the hippy market for earrings ($1 a pair) made from tagua (vegetable ivory), horsehair, seashells, fish scales, coconut shell, various rain forest seeds, and the bottoms of aluminum cans
32. Llamas y cuy
33. Avoiding guatita (cow stomach), amoebas, and tiburón-infested dives (esp. the Great White).
34. My favorite family-owned shoebox-sized tienda that sells that rare item known as sugar
35. My happy place: good friends, cards, and Mana’
36. Suffering for the first time in my life from sunburn, teargas, and thin air
37. The diminutive form of everything: fundita, chompita, besito, etc.
38. Sunday chancho and picnics at Parque Paraiso
39. The blue place (desayuno), yellow place (almuerzo), green place (merienda), and the lovely families who own them
40. Near sunset, the enticing sound of street meat sizzling from nearby corners

41. Parque Calderón
42. Not having to pay heating or cooling bills, or rising gas prices
43. Hand-washing and line-drying clothes in fresh mountain air
44. Soaking problems away in thermal waters near Cuenca, and then rediscovering fresh healthy skin after a few minutes in the eucalyptus steam room
45. The neighborhood rooster who goes off at all hours of the night. He would make a tasty seco de pollo
46. Cuenca´s migration officials
47. Seeing fireworks from my bedroom window any hour of the night (I once saw them at 1am), any night of the year
48. Why gyms in Cuenca don´t need StairMasters: Turi, El Barranco and El Escalinata
49. The shadow life in The Alley of Perdition and Lost Souls
50. Santos (where the owner was NOT a saint), and Percal (where the filet mignon comes strongly recommended, and all you need is $2. Maybe 3.)
51. What Ecuador lacks in pedestrian rights or child vehicular restraint laws, is overcompensated for in bus fumes and incessant, and seemingly purposeless, honking
52. Learning volumes of rich Cuenca history from my intercambio, Luis
53. Zhumir (“The Latin Spirit”), Pilsener (“Equatorianamente Refrescante”), and Clos (a fine name in box wine)
54. 10 de agosto, 3 de noviembre, 9 de octubre, 12 de abril, etc
55. Paying someone back a quarter because you know that they might actually need or want it
56. Learning that, paradoxically, a $1 bill can be 20 times more valuable than a $20 bill
57. The distinct and deafening sound of rain and hail pounding on corrugated tin roofs
58. Supermaxi – not just the size of feminine hygiene products, but an upscale grocery chain. If you can´t find a food item in Supermaxi (or its big brother, the Megamaxi), you won´t find it in Ecuador
59. Tanktop at noon, wool sweater by 6
60. Looking to the east (not west) for incoming weather, gazing at the Southern Cross from my terrace, and the sun rising and setting at nearly the same time every day, all year

61. Experiencing major events like Ecuador´s 2^nd appearance in the World Cup, Ecuadorian presidential elections (Dale Correa!), the eruption of Tungurahua, and Cuenca´s 450^th foundation anniversary
62. Jefferson Perez: Cuenca´s much-beloved son, the only Ecuadorian Olympic medalist (gold), and current world champion in speed walking
63. A faucet that sounds like Chewbaca, a dribbling electric shower that incites malas palabras, and war water
64. Breath-taking moments: Laguna Quilotoa, hiking in a cloud forest, trekking up Volcàn Cotopaxi, and biking from Baños to Puyo,
65. The Ecuadorian greeting
66. And the awkward confusion felt by “Ecuadorianized” North Americans encountering other North Americans in Ecuador – Should I kiss? Should I shake hands? What do I do?!?!?
67. Obsessions: The men and their hair gel, and the women and their three-sizes-too-snug jeans
68. The Ecuadorian belief that if there isn’t dancing that lasts til 4am, it’s not a party -it’s a meeting
69. My sweet niñas
70. 70 yr olds hunch over, carrying the weight of the earth on their backs, while 7 yr olds stain their fingers black shining shoes
71. The Andean windpipes, landscape, and cosmovision
72. 3am serenades, complete with brass instruments – God bless the soul who invented earplugs
73. ¡Oye! ¡Chinita bonita! ¡¿Sabes karate?!
74. The distinct rhythms that infuse every aspect of Latin America: bachata, vallenato, salsa, meringue, and cumbia,
75. Having students that ranged from my energetic 2-3 yr olds (BLUE!), to teenagers, to a very likable rheumatologist who brought me Coke Light to his tutorials
76. Tito, my best Ecuadorian friend, and all his antics (“Hasta nunca!!!!!!”)
77. Women scrubbing clothes clean in Rio Tomebamba and leaving them to dry on its banks
78. Las Cholas Cuencanas: their long schoolgirl pigtails, Panama hats, and brightly colored skirts79. Cuencanos´ unabashed, and often over-inflated, pride in their drinking water, lilting accent, and their self-perception of being so polite
80. Team QUE BESTIA!

81. Ecuadorian concepts of time, customer service, and sidewalk etiquette
82. My favorite neighborhood street dogs
83. Learning random words in Spanish like curfew (toque de queda), @ (arroba), and tremor (temblor) because I actually needed them
84. Babies bundled tightly to their mothers´ backs
85. Cuenca dressed to impress: Corpus Cristi, Las Fiestas de Cuenca, and El Pase del Niño
86. All my clothes fading about 5 shades lighter from when I first bought them
87. Walking past the San Francisco market everyday: Quechua murmured in the corners while taxistas relax playing Cuarenta
88. Everything tasting a little better with aji
89. Discovering that some things really don´t translate, and some things that do shouldn´t be because they just sound better in Spanish (like Marc Anthony)
90. Always more than enough rain, rice, and reggaeton
91. Exploring my spirituality in a temezcal (sweat lodge) ceremony
92. Swimming with penguins and iguanas, watching frigates be magnificent, and falling in love with boobies while they court on that island thing (aka The Galapagos)
93. And finally learning that sometimes you have to say goodbye before you can say hello

This weekend I participated in a shamanic experience.

Although I do not align with any organized religion, I consider myself a spiritual person. I believe in a force greater than myself, I believe in an energy that connects all living things, I believe that there are some mysteries in life that just can’t be understood with science or rational thought. But having said all that, I’m never really gotten into yoga, or meditiation, or really anything that requires study, patience, or discipline in the area of spirituality. Which is odd, because I have certainly demonstrated the ability to study and exact self-discipline in other areas of my life.

Anyway, this wknd I headed to Susudel, Ecuador, which is about 2 1/2 hrs south of Cuenca. Susudel is the small kind of town where the one restaurant in town only needs to identify itself by a small sign that says Restaurante. (I assume that no translation is needed here.) It’s the kind of town where if you’re hungry, the man chopping down sugar cane stalks will loan you his machete while you chop yourself a few sticks to gnaw on. It’s the kind of place where most people don’t need (or have) electricity bec. they don’t have Ipods, or computers, or cell phones, or 1000 other techological advances that are supposed to make our life better, but somehow also complicate our lives. In short, it’s the kind of place where life just seems simpler, more basic.

It was with this backdrop, that we found soon found ourselves at the humble abode of Juan. Though a beautiful place, Juan’s home was much simpler than what most people in the states would consider a cabin in the woods. We soon set up our own simple homes (aka tents), and then waited as Juan and his family started setting things up for the ceremony.

The ceremony began by Juan telling us to bring the stones that were off to the side into the sacred half moon fire site. As we carried the rocks, we were to put into the rock our fears, our concerns, our doubts, whatever negative thoughts that might keep us from wholly engaging in the spiritual experience set before us. He told us that we would get out of this experience exactly what we put into it, and so we should use the rocks to help put ourselves into a positive state. It was such a simple task, yet so effective. I found that with each rock that I carried, I became a bit more centered, a bit less weighed down with my fears about my future, with my fears about the sweat lodge, with my fears about myself.

Once the rocks had been assembled on the fire pit, his family went about creating a giant bonfire. As they did that, his parents began praying, and began smoking a communal cigar. As we smoked the cigar, we were to gather some of the smoke in our hands, wave it over our faces, then over our hearts, then over our wombs. We did this so that their minds and souls could receive the blessings from Above. Then Juan’s mother offered each person a glass of this drink that she said was medicine. The next morning I could see that this drink looked nasty – it was brown, with unknown herbs floating around in it. But under the enchanting spell of the bonfire, I drank it all. It didn’t taste nearly as bad as it looked. Finally, Juan came around with some tobacco, that each person was to sniff up through each nostril. He said it would help clear the head, and was yet more medicine for the soul. It seems that they could’ve offered me anything and i would’ve taken it, so long as they’d said it was medicina. I have never eaten a cigarette, but I imagine if I did, it would be just as pleasurable as it had been sucking tobacco up my nose. It was especially bad after the tobacco had settled in a bit, and the taste started slipping down the back of my throat. But really, it was nothing that a few minutes of coughing and spitting couldn´t cure.
After the bonfire had burned for a couple of hours, we were instructed to strip down to whatever we would make us comfortable for the sweat lodge. The sweat lodge looked like a very tiny igloo (make of sticks intead of ice blocks). You could only crawl in, was not tall enough for anyone other than a 3 yr old to stand up in, and was maybe about the size of maybe a 6 person tent. The first people to go in were Juan and his father, as they were leading the ceremony. I put on my swim suit and sarong, and with the rest of the women who were not menstruating, entered first, followed by the rest of the men. We fit at least 17 of us in there, and really could have crammed more if we’d wanted to.

Once inside, 7 of the rocks came in. I´d never seen rocks glowing red-hot before, and it was powerful to think of all our fears, our doubts, our negative energy burning away in those rocks. When each rock was carefully placed in the pit, which was in the middle of the lodge, Juan´s father sprinkled lavender over it. As soon as the lavender hit the heat of the rock, it would immediately glitter, giving the rock a mystic kind of life.  And then, just as soon as it had come to life, the sparkling would cease, and the next rock would be put into place. It was so mesmerizing and calming that my mind felt completely at ease and I felt emotionally ready for what was to begin.
Which was a very good thing, because normally the thought of being cramped into a small dark space with a bunch of people I don’t know very well, sweating profusely for 2 hrs, without the option of leaving whenever I felt like it – well, not my thing.  Especially the last part.  I can deal pretty well with physical discomfort – but the emotional discomfort of not having a ready and socially acceptable egress – if I had dwelled on that I may have lost it before we even began.

Once the rocks had been placed, we closed the door, and were in total darkness.  The darkness, the warmth, the closed-in feeling – all was to help us remember life in our mother’s womb.  I was amazed by what a comforting feeling it was.  Songs were sang, and prayers were given – from time to time Juan would throw water on to the rocks, creating steam which of course raised the temperature in the lodge.

After we had passed through the first Puerta (door), they opened the door to the lodge.  I actually found the cool air to be a bit uncomfortable, and hoped that they would close it soon, so that we could go back to the comforting warmth we had before.

Before they closed the door, more rocks were brought inside, again with the sprinkling of the lavendar.  This time when they closed the door, we were to think about our childhoo: our earliest memories, what lessons we had learned from our parents, etc.  We were to think of the rocks as our Abuelos (grandparents) and be open to any messages or lessons from the Abuelos.

When we had passed through the 2nd Puerta, the door was opened again, more rocks were brought in, the door was closed, and more songs were sung.  By this point, we had created a collection of hot rocks, and the temperature in the lodge had grown considerably.  Some of the men were groaning, as a way to cope with the increased discomfort.  While it may have helped them, for me their groaning had a very disquieting effect, and I wished desperately that they would stop.  I found that if I lowered my head between my knees, it helped immensely.  It shielded me from the heat, which at times could feel burning – esp. after water was thrown on the rocks, and shielded me from the noise and what I considered negative energy from others.  We were passing through the 3rd Puerta, which is our current state.  We were to reflect upon our current life, the things that we need to let go of, the things that we need to forgive, etc.

The 4th Puerta to pass through was death, and it was actually the hardest.  At this point, the lodge felt like an oven, and the groaning had become very intense.  We had also been in the lodge for nearly 2 hours, and I had hit my limit. But they told us that it was in this state of desperation, of colliding with our limits, that the Abuelos were giving us their greatest lesson.  They told us it’s easy to be content when everything is just as we want it – but they challenged us to find peace within ourselves despite the challenges that affronted us from without.  I forced myself to lean into the suffering, reminding myself that this suffering was voluntary and giving me a lesson, while there are people in the world whose suffering is much greater and definitely not voluntary.

When we finally came out of the lodge, we were to think about it as leaving the mother’s womb.  And it did feel a bit like a rebirth.  Despite the fact, or actually because of the fact, that I had just sweat for two hours, I felt, in a way, immensely clean.  When you sweat so profusely for so long, a lot of toxins come out.  I felt that sort of high that you feel after running a marathon, or climbing a mountain, or doing anything that at the onset seemed overwhelming.  I thought with all that sweat sitting on us, the cold night air would be harsh, but we came out to find the bonfire still burning.  We wrapped ourselves in our towels, and stood around the fire, speechless, still soaking in the power of the experience.

As I was standing there, this woman said to me, How many times in your life do you experience something, and think, Oh my Gosh, I have never felt anything like this ever before_!_!  and When will I have the chance to do this again_  It occurred to me, I have felt that way countless times in Ecuador.

I made this big decision in my life, and at first, it just felt so freaking good to make a decision and move on in my life. And those of you who know me well know that when I’m ready to move on, I start moving.

So I started moving. Pato and I broke up, and discovered that we´re better for each other as friends than we ever were as dating partners. And I finally found myself once again living with people that I enjoyed living with. And a whole SLEW of new teachers came into town, and all of a sudden, life was really fun again. For several months, life had just felt heavy, and then it was light, and airy, and healthy again. And then I started thinking – what am I doing?!?! Why do I want to leave all this? And then I started really second-guessing my decision to leave.

I NEVER second-guess decisions. It´s not in my nature. I look very carefully at all angles of a decision, consider all the factors that needs to be considered, make a very sound and sober decision, trust my decision and the process that went into it, and never look back. So just the fact that I was reconsidering in of itself freaked me out. Why is it SO damn hard for me to leave Ecuador? Scores of people have done it before me.

Then the weirdest thing happened. I went to the beach this wknd with The Family. The Family is the new group of CEDEI preschool teachers. There are 6 of them, and they do EVERYTHING together, including living together. My roommate Meghan and I call them the Family, bec. as with any group of people who spend that much time together, there is bound to be drama, lots of love, secrets, history, jealousies, etc. And somehow Meghan and I, two of the most independent people I know, got adopted into this Family. We don´t spend as much time with the Family as they all spend w. each other, but they are a fun group, and it was a memorable wknd. But riding back on the bus back from the beach, it just hit me – I´m ready to move on. It was a really nice wknd, but the kind of experience that told me that even now, I am taking full advantage of my time and life in Ecuador, and that soon, I´ll be leaving Ecuador with more good memories than I could ever count. But I know too that if I stay, eventually the fun that I am having, as fun does, will fade. These guys, as great as they are, like everyone else – at some point will leave. The changes in season here as so much more subtle than back in the states, that it´s harder to notice change. But everything, and everyone changes, and it´s time for me to change. I still know without question that there will many hard days back in the states, where I will miss Ecuador more than I´ll be able to say. But I believe in leaving places, and people, on good notes, and I know that that is what I will be doing.

Anyone who´s received a serious email from me in the last month knows that I was struggling with the next step in my life. 3 yrs ago, when I first decided to travel to South America, I was so sure of myself, my decision, and my next move in life, but for the past several months, I had felt totally the opposite. As much as I loved my life in Cuenca, I couldn´t help but wonder, is this where I should still be? and if I shouldn´t be here, where? and more importantly, why?

I don´t make the important decisions in my life. At least not consciously. My subconscious works everything out – all the doubts, the questions, etc, and then when everything seems to be set, and there really is no possible excuse to get in the way, it lets my conscious in on the secret. I was sitting in a park one day, reading an article related to Vietnam and instantly I knew that I was going to Vietnam. I had no fear or doubt about the decision – it was just a matter of taking care of logistics (buying the ticket, letting my employer know, etc). Same thing w. Ecuador. I was on a campus interview in Colorado, and as I was strolling through the campus I knew that I was going to live in mountains for awhile, and those mountains weren´t the Rockies. I was going to the Andes.

At every other point in my life when I was feeling antsy, there was an obvious next step (graduation), or a door opened up for me and I just had to walk through it (someone at work would leave, and I would apply for the promotion), or there was a revelation, like with Vietnam. But it seemed, no matter how patient I was, doors weren´t opening, or no messages were coming from the subconscious.

Ok, that´s not actually true. During the past few months, I did my best to listen to my heart as it tried to reveal myself to me. Every now and then, I´d have a small insight, or tiny aha moment, but they were like small little bread crumbs leading somewhere, but I couldn´t quite make out to where.

My first thought, or bread crumb, was that my angst was not geographical. I was not eager to move back to the states (apart from the benefit of being closer to family and friends), nor was I dying to leave Ecuador. An email from a good friend, telling me about her recent promotion, gave me a 2nd bread crumb. I had a hard time writing back to her to congratulate her, and I realized that this new challenge in her life made me realize that I lacked challenge in my own life. Not that I´ve mastered the spanish language, or teaching english as a foreign language, but I´ve been doing both of those things long enough now that they´re no longer heady challenges in which I can immerse myself. So then the question was, what challenge am I needing or seeking?

Then came the most telling bread crumb of all, which at first just looked like the biggest piece of irony I´d ever encountered in my life.

A couple weekends ago I found myself in a tiny, remote Andean village called Principal. (Principal is an unusual name for an Andean village, as most of them have Quechua, not spanish, names.) Principal, like so many latinamerican communities, has been impacted by its men migrating to the states to work. While migration brings money back into a community, it affects the social order of the family, which affects the social order of a community. So a few years ago, the Peace Corps sent a volunteer into Principal to work with the community to figure out how to make Principal less dependent on outward migration – ie. how to make Principal a sustainable community. The volunteer, Matt, worked with the community to create more tourism in Principal. With tourism you need guides who can communicate, and of course bilingual guides are generally more helpful in communicating with more people. That´s where we, CEDEI come in. Right now there is no way that this community could pay us to give their tour guides english lessons, so every wknd, CEDEI teachers volunteer their time to give free lessons to the guides. I had wanted to go to Principal for a long time, but there always seemed to be something else. But at long last, I had a weeknd free, the ganas and the energy to get out of Cuenca and see the more rugged side of Ecuador.
My friend Lauren, the CEDEI teacher who currently goes out every wknd and and coordinates the volunteer lessons, completely by coincidence, used to work in the Peace Corps head office in DC. It was also by coincidence that the weekend that I went to Principal, Lauren had 2 friends, both former Peace Corps volunteers, visiting her from the states. She met Paul and Reuben while the 3 of them worked in the Peace Corps office, (Paul and Reuben still work there.) 4 yrs ago, when I was devastated over not being accepted into the Peace Corps for medical reasons, I never imagined that one day, I would find myself sitting in a hostal in an Ecuadorian pueblo, with 3 people all associated with the Peace Corps while volunteering for a Peace Corps project. Life has a wicked sense of humor.

So I´m sitting there, listening to the 3 of them reminisce about their days in the office together, and a realization slowly seeped into me – I miss having a career that I´m passionate about, really good at, and makes me feel valued. I miss working with people whom I respect, and respect me for what I bring to the table.

While teaching English as a 2nd or foreign language can be a respectable career, for me, it was only a means to live in a city and a country that enamored me. I enjoy and I think I´m good (not mindblowingly awesome) at teaching English, but in the last 2 years that I´ve been teaching, I feel that many of my other skills, passions, and talents have laid dormant. I have never respected the institute that employs me, nor any of the 3 directors that I´ve had, and have never felt valued by them. When I know for a fact that directors have literally gone out to the streets looking for any native english speakers (most of whom are not certified to teach english as a foreign language), it makes me feel pretty dispensible. And we are dispensible.

I have liked many of the teachers that I´ve met here, but the average stay is 6mo. Every 6 mo. I´m saying goodbye to good friends, and having to make new ones. It can be emotionally draining. And working with a group of people that you like, and feeling like you are a part of a cohesive team – 2 different things.

At one point I could make all those sacrifices because of what I was getting in its stead – the chance to learn a new language, learn a new culture, live a more simple life, etc. But listening to these guys talk, I realized that I not only wanted, but craved those things in my life again.

So over the next few days, I came to terms with the fact that my time in Ecuador has an ending point. On the one hand, it feels good to know that I can finally answer that most dreaded question, “How much longer will you be in Ecuador?” with something besides the very limp “Quien sabe? Yo no sé nada de mi futuro.” (Who knows, I know nothing of my future.) On the other hand, it means having to say goodbye to a life and city that I adore for so many reasons. I will be here through Dec. or January, which should give me the time I need to despedirme del ecuador. And there is no doubt that ecuador will not have seen the last of me (perhaps to its chagrin). I will be back, at the very least, for a visit.

Having made that decision, I also made the healthy decision to break up with Pato. For reasons that I don´t need to bore everyone with, our relationship lasted longer than it should have because we´d both chosen to ignore some fundamental differences between us (perhaps the biggest being that he is a devout mainstream Mormon – and that I am not and never will be.). But somehow, we realized, at almost the exact same time, that in the long run, we would both be happier and healthier with other people (him with a fellow mormon and me with someone a bit more punctual). I feel a bit sad right now because even when a breakup is as healthy, mature, honest, mutual and caring as ours was, it´s still letting go of something. But I know, and not so deep down, that it was right for both of us, and that we´ll both be fine. Right now of course distance from each other is needed, but we both know that if either of us ever needs something, the other one is there, and that´s a comforting gift.

Now that I´ve finally tamed the big elephant in the room, I can actually make other decisions about my future, and that makes my future worth looking forward to. I am excited to go back to the states in October for to go to Laura´s (one of my best friends) wedding in Iowa, then out to DC to visit Reuben (one of the cool Peace Corps guys). Hopefully when I´m in DC I can also see Chris (my first Cuenca roommate) who is just about to relocate there. Another one of my best friends, Jenn, will either come visit me in October or January, and (depending on that) I will either be home for good in December or January.

Guagua – quechua word for Baby. Much more commonly used (and much more fun to say) here than the spanish word, bebé. sounds like wha-wha (like WHAT without the T).

Quechua was the language of the incas, and is still spoken by many of the indigenous people in the Andes. If you listen carefully, you can hear it spoken around the market places, and most of the volcanoes, and many of the towns or provinces, take their names from quechua words. Words like Pichincha, Cotopaxi, Chimborazo, Tunguruaha – all fine examples of quechua.

My co-teacher and I decided she´d help our kids make mother´s day presents, and I´d help them make the cards. The presents involved sand dollars, so I thot the cards should follow the same oceanic theme. I exhausted my creative efforts to incorporate fish into a mothers day card that made all the national teachers say, OH, que preciosa! On the inside I pasted an outline of a fish, and the kids added bright pieces of scrap paper for the scales. The message said, in English and in Spanish, “There are many fish in the sea, but no one is as wonderful or as beautiful as you. Thank you for being my mommy – happy mother´s day!” On the outside I´d pasted ocean waves, and I decided the kids could add cute fish stickers.

Great plan – now, I just needed to find fish stickers. Living in Ecuador for so long, I knew that if I wanted stickers, I needed to go to a papeleria (literally, paper store, but they also sell general office supplies). I told the woman what I wanted, and her response: I´m sorry, it´s not sticker season. WHAT?!?! Um, when exactly is sticker season? does it by chance coordinate with the rainy season, which seems will never ever end? No, it´s in July, when school starts. You need to wait a couple of months. I thanked her and walked out, not quite ready to give up my fish hunt. 2 papelerias later, I discovered that in fact fish stickers can be found outside of sticker season.

As I mentioned before, every month we (the entire school) focus on a different country. One day the students wear the country´s traditional dress, one day they make a traditional recipe, they learn to identify the country´s flag, anthem (Egypt has a very pretty anthem, btw), where it is located in the world, the name of the capital, and the resources of the country. Last month we studied Senegal, and we were lucky enough to have a senagelese man who is living in Ecuador volunteer to come in and work with the kids several times. One day, I reminded the kids that Bamba would be coming, and asked them where Bamba is from. To my great shock, little Martín got up, ran to the world map, and with great precision touched the small senegalese flag that we had posted on Senegal. I thot that was incredibly cool. God knows when I was 2 I had no idea that Senegal even existed, let alone show someone where it was on the map!

We have finally gotten a practicante (student helper) which we desperately needed. We now have a total of 12 children, and every Friday we get a special needs student to help him integrate into the class. 12-13 2-3 yr olds is a lot, esp. when one is diagnosed with ADHD, one is a confirmed slugger, one is the most oppositional child I have ever known, and another is blind. I come home on Fridays absolutely spent. I like these little guys, but I will be grateful when the year comes to an end, and I can go back to teaching adults again.

I have been sick for what seems like forever, and it´s no wonder – I spend my mornings wiping snot out of little people´s noses. I wash my hands as much as possible, but I am sure that I will be sick until the year´s end.

June is the season of my favorite Ecuadorian holiday – Corpus Cristi. I have never really been a holiday person, but I think I could live in Ecuador for the rest of my life and always and thoroughly enjoy CC.

For starters, it lasts about a week, and for that week, one gets to enjoy night skies filled with globitos. Globitos are small hot air balloons that are lit by hand with a bundle of twigs. It´s so enchanting to look up and find a path of several hundered of these globitos, drifting quietly and peacefully in the night.

While the globitos float along noiselessly, hoping someone will look up and notice them, the castillos demand immediate and complete attention. The word Castillo in spanish means Castle or Tower. In this case, the castillos are towers of bamboo poles, upon which are attached a ton of pyrotechnics, ecuadorian and azuay flags (azuay is Cuenca´s province, or state), one or two religious icons, and brightly colored tissue paper fan blades that spin and whir as the castillo gets going. Of all things Ecuador, I have to say that Castillos DEFINITELY make my top 5 favorite list. (the pollution from the buses, the word Chinita, or my boss at CEDEI do NOT make the list).

During CC, one walks to Parque Calderon, which is the heart of Cuenca´s historic section (where I live), and will find 2 to 4 castillos waiting to awe the crowd. and what a crowd. It can seem that every person in Cuenca is in Parque Calderon, buying the special dulces (sweets) that come out only for CC. In this respect, CC makes me think of Christmas. But CC also makes me think of any small town festival, like the Marigold festival, or the Strawberry festival, where everyone comes out with their families to flock around booths selling whatever foods are popular with festivals in that region – in ecuador those snacks being cotton candy, chifles (fried plantains), salchipapas (french fries w. a little hotdog), papipollos (chicken with fries), kabobs of meat, and much more.

Anyway – everyone is busy doing whatever, when you may notice that people are moving one of the castillos. I´ve never figured out why they move the castillos before they ignite them. it´s not as if they´re moving them to a more secure spot, or to a spot that be visible to more people. They will literally just move it about 10-15 feet to the right or left. I honestly think the only reason for moving it is to offer a visual cue to people to get ready, like dimming the lights before a show. So, you get ready, and then you hear that familiar hisssssssss. Immediately you sense a push and pull in the crowd – some people (usually with small children) drawing back, while it seems that everyone else is pushing their way in to get closre to the action. The thing w. a castillo, however, is that you don´t want to get too close. You can think you´re standing a safe distance away, and still be putting your life in risk. Risk of a firework jumping off the castillo and dancing right onto your head or risk of the crowd frantically pusing back into you. Of course, this is Ecuador, which means that there isn´t a firetruck, EMT, ambulance, or any sort of public safety agent present. But they are so fascinating, so captivating, that even if you´ve seen a hundred castillos, you still find yourself pushing, like everyone, just a little bit closer to see.

It goes off in tiers – the first tier will set off a small series of fireworks, which will get the fan blades on that tier spinning. the action will move up to each tier (there are usually 3 or 4). Once it gets to the top, if this is your first castillo, you may think it´s done, and start to divert your attention. But then you´ll notice that everyone else is still staring fixedly on the castillo. So you turn back, and then you notice that at the base, the castillo is spitting out thousand of little gold sparks. And you´re just about completely hyptonized by the dancing and light sound of the gold sparks, that you are completely jolted when the castillo really gets going. 4th of July style fireworks go shooting up out of the top of it, and the whole thing becomes a blur of spinning whirring sparks a flying activity. It´s one of those things that is very hard to describe, but if you´re ever in ecuador, and you see a large colorful structure made out of bamboo, stick around. believe me, it´s worth the wait. Castillos are generally between 2 to 3 stories tall. but according to my boyfriend, Pato, who has lived in Cuenca his whole life, in the past they were much taller, and even more spectacular, which is quite difficult for me to imagine.
I´ve asked sooooo many ecuadorians to tell me what exactly Corpus Christi celebrates. I, and most other spanish speaking gringos, could determine that it had something to do with the body of Christ, but past that we didn´t know. And we knew that it certainly wasn´t celebrating a town with the same name in Texas. But no ecuadorian could tell me. So finally I gave uo, and googled Holiday Corpus Cristi. Through that I learned that the holiday recognizes the Catholic belief that the host consumed at mass IS the body of Christ, and doesn´t just symbolize it, as it does for Protestants.

Rainy season was supposed to end in April, but continues yet with a vengeance. I dream of the day that I can leave my house w.o my umbrella and or raincoat, and not be aquatically castigated (punished). And those of us foreigners here in Cuenca are much more cognizant of the rain here than we would be back in our home countries, because back home we would be driving cars. But as none of us have, or really need, cars here, we walk. I walk, por lo menos, 3 miles a day, walking to and from my 2 work sites, and then more if I run errands or just feel like walking more. Generally during the rainy season here is what happens. You wake up and see clouds lingering in the east. In the southern hemisphere the weather comes from the east, not the west. Sometime in the afternoon all the clouds will get together and it will rain anywhere between 20 min to an hour. Sometimes more, but generally never for more than a few hours. And you rarely wake up to rain, as it seems to be an afternoon thing.
But the last 2 wks have broken the norm. Nearly every day for the last 2 wks, we gone to sleep to the sound of rain, woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of rain, arisen for the day to the sound of rain, and have had to deal with rain throughout the entire day. Yes, it has gotten very very old. It´s one thing to not see the sun for 2 wks, another thing to be wet and cold for those 2 wks because of the damn rain. While my friends and family back in the states are contending with 90 degree weather, I´m bundled up in turtlenecks and woolen sweaters.

Cuenca´s offical name is Santa Ana de los Cuatro Rios de Cuenca – Santa Ana of the 4 Rivers of Cuenca. There´s a saying here – if you want to build a city, build it on a river. If you want to build a good city, build it on 2 rivers. If you want to build a beautiful city, build it on 3 rivers. If you want to build a city like Cuenca, build it on 4. But dump as much rain into an area, and rivers will eventually have no choice but to swell and overrun their banks, which Cuenca´s rivers have just done. Cuenca´s province is Azuay, which has just declared a state of emergency. I watch the news at night with horrified awe – it reminds me of the Iowa floods of ´93. People wading up to their waists in water, huge trees being felled by the rapid erosion, schools and universities being closed because students can´t get in or out.

5 more weeks of work, and then I will be freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee – I will be getting out of Dodge (or Cuenca) for a MUCH needed vacation!