Life at Latitude 3

It´s a bit hard to believe that it´s been almost a year now since I came back to Ecuador for the 2nd time. In October 2004, when I came up with the crazy idea of going to South America for 6 months, I never imagined 6 months would stretch into a couple of years. But coming into Ecuador this 3rd time was def. the hardest.

For one thing, I came back when the teaching cycle was ending, meaning that all of my friends were saying goodbye. I know lots of Ecuadorians, but in terms of what I would call really good friends, most of them are other teachers. But it makes sense. If I moved back to the states, I´d have to relocate and find new friends. Most people my age are married or at least have children, and don´t have time to make new friendships. The people I´d prob. socialize the most would be people I worked with, which is what is happening here.

For another thing, I know that need to make a serious decision about my future. Most of my personal belongings are stored in my grandparents´house, and I need to either start using that stuff (ie. move back to the states) or decide to set up on a more permanent basis here (ie sell that stuff). And when it comes to that decision, I just feel at a loss. On the one hand, my family and great majority of my friends live in the states. Considering that none of them have even visited me yet, I doubt that any of them would pick up their lives to move down here to live with me, and of course I don´t expect that. Which means that if I stay here, I either pay $900 a year to come home and see people, or I forgo seeing very important people in my life for a few years at a time. Not a cheerful thought. So what keeps me here? I don´t know how to explain it other than Ecuador´s current slogan for tourism is “Life at its purest.” And while life is far from perfect here, I feel like it´s much easier to live a life that is closer to my personal values. I can either walk or take public transportation to get anywhere I want to go, meaning that I never need a car. Because of the climate, I never need to use energy to blow dry my hair, machine wash or dry my clothes, and locally grown fresh food is a 20 second walk away. And of course I could, and people do, live socially conscious lives back in the states, but somehow it´s just easier here.

And there are a ton of other little things that keep me here. Like, I just realized how incredibly cheap and easy it is to make popcorn on the stovetop. And I´m not talking about buying one of those popcorn-tin filled things at the store. And I like how I have a fruit woman, and a vegetable woman, and a guy we affectionately call the Amigo who runs a tiny tienda where I can buy lemons at 11pm if I need them. And I still love hearing and speaking spanish. And I know – I can have all these things back in the states – but it would mean prob. living in the heart of a a city like Chicago or New York, which has never appealed to me. I like that I can have these things, and live in a city as small and as appealing as Madison, WI.

So, that´s where I´m at with my life. In a few days I start working at the preschool again. A friend of mine who worked there had to leave unexpectedly, and there are still 4 months left in the year. I will be working with the smallest and cutest kids – the 2-3 yr olds. Some are so young that they haven´t started speaking in any language, but you can tell that they´re taking it all in. I´ll be teaching opposites (up! down! Big! Small!) and animals with them in the a.m., and then in the afternoon, teach a class to teens. So I go from singing “Wheels on the Bus” to teaching the freaking 3rd conditional and adjective order all in one day. good times.

I´m sure I´ll have stories about the kids in my next blurb – hasta el próximo mes – cariño del ecuador!

At 11pm on Feb. 5th, Pato (short for Patricio) took me to the bus station so I could catch the 11:30pm bus to Guayaquil. I expected it to be a 24 hour journey – it’s prob. a good thing that I didn’t know at that moment that it would be a 38 hour trip. Before I could reach my parents’ house, I would have to sit in Guayaquil airport for 6 hours bec. of a flight delay, which would cause me to sprint through customs in New Jersey to catch my flight to Atlanta, only to learn that I would have to spend the night in Atlanta because of a mistake the airline made. But in the end, I and my luggage, showed up safe and sound at last, in Iowa, the land of my family and childhood.

The first week and a half I was back home, it was unbelievably and bitterly cold. Everyone was talking about the weather, but it was even more shocking for me, whose senses had become somewhat delicate from living in the land of eternal spring for the last 10 months. And, despite the fact that I’ve survived 16 winters in Iowa, I always forget how the winter winds can whip wildly around on the plains, with nothing to contest or to challenge them. So I hunkered down with my parents and the cats, and while the temps dropped perilously low outside, I treated my parents to several free piano concerts (small repayment for years and years of lessons).

I also enjoyed reaquainting myself with several things that either do not exist in Ecuador, or exist in Ecuador but are not at my immediate disposal. Anderson Erickson cottage cheese and reliably hot showers that consist of more than a dribble probably topped that list. I also became reaquainted with some aspects of US culture that are not so convenient, like waiting an hour and a half when going out to dinner on a Saturday night and gas prices.

The 2nd wknd I was home was my grandpa’s 90th birthday celebration, which was the principal reason that I came home in Feb. It was a wonderful day for Grandpa – over 100 people came, including all of his children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and other surviving relatives. It was such a special day for him, and I was thankful to be there to share it with him.

The day after his party, I left my parents for a week to see good friends in Madison and Chicago, and a few stops in between. It was good to catch up with old friends and colleagues, and hear about the changes in their lives, and see how their kids were growing up. A special shoutout to Mary Beth! 🙂

When I left Chicago, I was quite stressed out about the weather, and praying I wouldn’t fall victim to the blizzard storm that was raging across the midwest. Illinois was relatively clear, but literally as soon as I crossed the Mississippi into Iowa, I could see what the storm had left in its wake. A semi truck was jackknifed in the median, and that was just the beginning of the vehicular carnage that I would see strewn about in the ditches and medians of Iowa.

I got home to find my family without power. They, and the rest of our neighbors, had lost power at 1:30pm on Saturday, and I arrived home at 7pm on Sunday. My grandparents, parents, and I all went over to my uncle’s house as he has a generator. We didn’t gain power back until around 8:30pm on Tuesday night, and we were lucky. Some people were not projected to have power again for 2 wks, despite the fact that electric companies from all over the midwest were sending crews to help with the repair efforts. 250,000 Iowan homes lost their power due to over 1000 miles of damaged transmission lines. We were just recovering from that first storm, when the 2nd one hit, and hard. The snow blustered madly and the wind howled wickedly about our little house, while we thanked God that we didn’t have to be on the interstate, and prayed that we didn’t lose our power again. The news was morbidly fascinating – stories of 20 car pile ups, the interstates closed from central Iowa to both the Minnesota and Nebraska borders, etc. Yes, it had been awhile since I’d experienced winter in all its dangerous glory.

Both of my parents were worried that they hadn’t entertained me enough when I was home, but I had been perfectly content just hanging out with them, helping them babysit my brother’s kids, putting jigsaw puzzles together with them, etc. And all winter blizzards aside, it was inexplicably wonderful to be in Iowa, and around the people of Iowa, if even for just a few weeks. USians outside of Iowa love to make fun of Iowa, but we Iowans have great pride in our state, and being home for a few weeks reminded me of that.
But soon, it was time for me to leave Iowa and venture to a part of the states I’d never been to before: Arizona. I was off to visit my dad’s parents, who live with my dad´s sister and her husband.  My grandpa isn´t doing so well, and we´d all be surprised if he were still with us at the end of this year.  When he passes, I can´t imagine my grandma will stick around much longer.  She told me several times while I was in Arizona:  “I pray to God that He take Herman first (because I don´t want Herman to suffer without me), but then I pray that he take me 5 minutes later, because I don´t want to suffer without him.”  They have been married for over 65 years, and I imagine life would be inconceivable for one without the other.  Very difficult for me to imagine, as my longest relationship, short of 3 years, ended over 10 years ago.  It was of course very good to see them, my friends Phil and Dora, and my aunt and uncle, but soon enough, I was on an overnight plane heading back to Cuenca.

So now I´m back in Cuenca, which is kind´ve tough for me, as I´m still fighting off a cold I´d picked up in the midwest.  I´d almost beaten it, but the overnight flight took me down again.  But, I´m feeling much better today, and looking forward to catching up with everyone here.

ok, signing off – much carino from ecuador!

When I woke up on December 6th, it felt like Christmas day. It was a day that I´d been waiting for for a VERY long time: final exam day. Dec. 7th was even better – I got to see my students one last time, but solely for social purposes. My first class took me out for breakfast (since we met at 7am), and my 2nd class gifted me with chocolates and flowers. This act especially warmed my heart, since most of these students were 13 or 14 years old. I really enjoyed teaching both of those classes, and will miss them both. I have nothing positive to say about my 3rd class, so I´ll move on.

To celebrate the end of cycle, I went to the beach with a friend. We went to Salinas, a pretty beach flanked by high-rise condos. These condos sit empty most of the year, but are the vacation homes of the richest Ecuadorians. I went at THE perfect time: the weather was pleasantly clear and sunny, but the beach was not yet teeming with the holiday crowd, and the prices hadn´t yet inflated to high season prices. Interesting thing about the beach at Salinas – no one lies on a beach blanket, unless you have a death wish, and want to fry up in 2.3 equatorial seconds flat. Everyone rents a seat under an umbrella for about a dollar a day.
On the way back from the beach, we stopped through Guayaquil to catch a major soccer game. I could not, for love or money, live in Guayaquil. As Ecuador´s largest city, Guayaquil has it´s attractive points, esp. it´s malecons (boardwalks) and a distinctive flavor all its own. Skirtlines rise scandalously high, jeans get even tighter (which barely seems conceivable) and the speaking becomes faster and without final “s”{s. “Buena Dia” instead of “Buenos Dias.” If you´re going to take the effort to come to Ecuador, Guayaquil should be on the itinerary. However, Guayaquil´s humid heat just makes me cranky as heck. The game was def. worth seeing, but the whole time I was there I suffered from being cramped with too many people in too hot of heat. I had to look at my watch to believe that I was miserable because of heat in December. When we left the game on a city bus, a bunch of drunk fans thought the bus looked like an easy target, and started throwing eggs and rocks. Thankfully no one on the bus got hurt, although they did manage to shatter one of the windows.

Once back in Cuenca, I continued to find violence. I had never experienced tear gas until I came to Ecuador. But thanks to the frequent huelgas (riots) between the university students and the police, which take place near my house, I´m all too familiar with it now. Not a fan of it.

JUGO MALO!

One day a bunch of us were going to play soccer, when some guys yelled at one of our friends and asked him if he´d like to play volleyball instead. He yelled back, “No! Jugo malo! Muy malo!” I said, umm Bruce – you just said Bad juice – very bad! You meant to say JUEGO malo! It was a very honest and even logical mistake, as the verb Jugar has an irregular conjugation. But since then, whenever someone makes a language blunder, we tease them by saying Jugo malo!!! And it happens to all of us. Like the other day, when my brain refused to recall the verb To Work (trabajar), which is one of the first verbs that spanish learners learn. Jugo malo.

I´ve said this several times, but it is so very true – teaching English to Spanish speakers has greatly improved my spanish. I NEVER speak Spanish to my students, but I learn a lot from their mistakes. Like my student who kept saying “actually” when he wanted to say “currently.” Until then, I had not realized that “actualmente” is a false cognate – a word that looks like it would translate easily from Spanish to English (or vice versa) but does not. There are, by the way, a lot of false cognates, or false friends, as they are often called.
How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

This sounds like something one of my advanced students would ask. That´s the thing with language – it´s one thing to know a word – it´s another thing to know the contexts in which you are allowed to used the word. Like the other day when I said to a friend – I know that pieza and pedazo can both mean “piece,” but I get the impression that they aren´t always interchangeable. When do I use each word? At first he said, it depends on the context, to which I responded, I know! That´s what I need to know!

Christmas.

The night before the day before Christmas, I went to a huge outdoor concert sponsored by the city. One thing I absolutely adore about Cuenca is how accessible the arts are to everyone – I´ve seen mime shows, scores of symphony concerts, and all kinds of dance performances for free. Anyway, this concert was called Mensaje de Paz (A Message of Peace), and was performed by school children. At times the concert WAS peaceful, like when they sang Silent Night (in spanish the words translate to Night of Peace, Night of Love). At times it was charming – like when a little boy did a very brave solo of Rudolf. Then, it was, umm, interesting when they sang, in English, Queen´s We Will Rock You, and Pink Floyd{s We Don´t Need No Education. Domination, arrogance, and ignorance – yes, very peaceful concepts worth sharing.

The day before Christmas, I was anxious to see the much talked about Pase Del Niño (The Passage of the Christ Child), Cuenca{s most extravagant event. It´s one of those things that even if you don´t identify as Christian, it´s a beautiful cultural expression – children dressed in ornate dresses and costumes, riding horses loaded with all kinds of gifts (food, teddy bears, sweets, beer) for the Christ Child, and traditional folk dancers (most of which I´d seen before but still love seeing). I knew that this parade was a big deal – people come from all over Ecuador to see it – but I didn´t know that it lasted 6 hours! And 6 hours still wasn{t enough time. The next day I was walking, when I felt like I{d just run into a livestock show. I turned the corner, and the street was filled with horses and children in beautiful clothes for as far as I could see. Families spend a lot of money on the clothing and whole display of gifts, so I guess they want to get their money{s worth.

Noche Buena (Christmas Eve) is probably more important than actual Christmas Day. The important Christmas feast, or Cena, is held (more or less) at Midnight (into Christmas Day) and is a night shared with family (or in my case, with other teachers who´d stayed in town). At midnight, everyone says Feliz Navidad, and cheek kisses go around. What a warm way to welcome in the holiday.

Because everyone is up late the night before having a Cena, they sleep in late and generally just relax on Christmas Day. I went for a walk at about 11am, and was surprised at how many stores were open. Not just food stores, or pharmacies, or other necessity type stores – but stores selling clothes and home appliances! “Honey, let´s go buy a washing machine today!” Except for the fact that it was a Monday, Christmas looked like any Sunday in Cuenca: families walking around, eating ice cream, watching breakdancing in the park, whatever. It was quite comforting to see so much life on the streets. If it had been dead, as I was expecting it to be, I think I would{ve been completely depressed. But in latin america, families don´t tend to be as separated as in the states. Generally, people don´t move out of their parents´ house until they get married, even if they´re 30 or 40. And even then, they prob. just move down the street. So Christmas isn´t a “family” day in the sense that it´s one of the few times that in the year that a family gets to be together. In LatinAmerica, every day is a “family” day. That afternoon I took myself and some seco de pollo (a traditional Ecuadorian chicken dish) to the house of a couple of profs. Of course it was not the same as being w. my family, but it was a pleasant afternoon spent in the company of buena gente (good peeps).

NEW YEAR

There wasn´t much down time between Christmas and the New Year´s festivities, which are something of a mezcla between 4th of July and Halloween. The week before New Year´s, there are stands all over the city selling masks. You also see hundreds of adult-sized, children-sized, and humogous sized stuffed muñecas (dolls) for sale and in the process of being made. The adult and children-sized ones are a bit eerie bec. they are fully dressed and have a head, but no face. You supply the face w. the mask of your choice. The children sized dolls are then attached to the front of vehicles – busses, police cars, taxis, etc. Sort{ve of like cheap hood ornaments.

The adult-sized ones are bought by families and businesses and for the week before new years, sit outside of houses and store fronts. The HUGE ones generally bear faces of famous people – and gen. not so popular famous people – ie George W., Naboa (the ecuadorian pres. candidate who lost), David Beckham (since it was his goal that knocked ecuador out of the world cup), etc.

Then, come the strike of 12 which separates Año Viejo and Año Nuevo, the fires begin. Families burn their doll in their patio, burning away the badness of the old year. In the streets, all the dolls are burnt in giant bonfires. I stood at an intersection, looking up and down every street I could see, and saw fires everywhere – like lights on a runway. When the bonfires get to a more reasonable size, children and drunk people run through them. Why, I have no idea. Then I looked up in the sky and saw fireworks EVERYWHERE. Ecuadorians are pyromaniacs. Of course there is no such thing as a trained pyrotechnician, or public safety rules regarding fireworks. And it{s not just like they go off at midnight. I was still watching fireworks at 2:30 am.
I{m personally not one to do New Year{s resolutions, but I do like making goals for myself. My goal this year is to learn as much as I can about what I can do to stop Global Warming, which, since being in Ecuador (one of the most biodiverse countries in the world), I have read and heard so much about. While we all will suffer in various forms from global warming, Ecuador is already experiencing the effects much more quickly, profoundly, and obviously. People generally aren´t moved to find a solution until it directly affects them. The problem with global warming is that by the time it affects people in an adverse enough way for them to care, too much irreversible damage will have been done. And living in Ecuador, I can already see that damage being done. It seems to me that Ecuadorians are very aware of, concerned about, and talk about global warming, but little Ecuador all by itself can´t address this issue. Sometimes it really depresses me to think about this country that I love losing its precious biodiversity, it frogs and other species, and snowcapped volcanoes. GW is kind´ve like racism, or poverty – it´s a complex subject, there aren´t any easy answers, and it´s not very uplifting to think about. But if you´re reading this, please take some time to learn more about it.With that, I hope that you all enjoyed your holidays, wherever you are in the world (Russia, Japan, Great Britain, Guatamala, the US, etc). Please note that if you live in the midwest, I will be going on tour come Feb. 6th. I am so so very excited, as this is the longest I{ve ever gone w.o seeing my family and closest friends. If you don{t live in the midwest, you will have to come visit me in Ecuador! 🙂

cariño siempre

I had told my owners that I was moving out, had packed up all of the CEDEI owned things in my apt, had found and paid rent on another place, and even moved most of my things over.  2 days before turning in my key, my owners saw me with my big packpack, and asked me where I was going.  My owners are sweet but a bit elderly, and they must´ve not have understood me, or just didn´t want to believe, when I told them the 1st time that I would be leaving.  I told them, again, that I couldn´t afford rent for the entire apt., and that I´d had no luck finding roommmates.  Without even blinking, they offered to lower the rent for me.  We agreed on a price which was slightly higher than what I would pay if there were 2 other people in the apt, (so that I would have an incentive to find roommates) but that if I were unable to find roommates (as I had been), I could still afford the apt.  And then, as luck had it, I found another roommate that very day!  Megan had just flown in from Quito, and was needing a place.  It´s one of the few situations in which everyone ended up feeling happy. 

But while the situation had a good ending, it had been a stressful and unsettled week for me.  The indigenous people here don´t believe in the western concepts of medicine and illnesses.  They believe that we experience malestar (a poor state of being) when we are disconnected from the source from which we came, pachamama (the sacred mother earth). Well, I definitely felt very disconnected after that week, and as a result, I came down with one of the ugliest colds of my life.  It dídn´t help that right now the southern hemisphere is experiencing winter.  Winter here is of course NOT the same as winter in Wisconsin or Iowa.  But most ecuadorians buildings don´t have heating, so when the temperature drops, there´s no escaping the coldness, and you better hope you have enough sweaters, blankets, and tea in your aresenal.   

On the morning of July 4th, I woke up and felt a little better.  “A little better” is a relative term, meaning that I felt miserable, vs. wanting to die.  I did something I did only once in 7 yrs at the UW – I took a sick day.  Even if I had had the energy to work with the little ones at the preschool, I didn´t want to get them sick.  I did however, have enough energy to figure out how to get to Baños, a tiny town just outside of Cuenca which has some thermal spas. For 2 glorious hours, my throat didn´t feel like it was swallowing glass, and I could enjoy breathing freely.  And when I got tired of looking at the gorgeous mountain views while soaking in the warm soothing outdoorbaths, I discovered the eucalyptus vapor room, which contains eucalyptus leaves steaming over thermal waters.  To wake up the olfactory senses, pick off 1 or 2 of the moist eucalyptus leaves, rub them in your hands, then sniff.  ahhhhhhhhh. And it opens up the skin too.  In as little as 10 min. you can slough off dead skin cells, revealing soft fresh skin underneath. I´ve been back to Baños a few times, and think I´ve found an easy and cheap ecuadorian addiction. 

That nasty cold is over now, but I think I´ve developed an allergy down here.  I was telling someone that despite the fact that I continue to run down here and that I walk every where, I never feel like I have 100% of my energy or health, that there´s always some congestion in my nose, etc.  The person turned to me and said, You´ve never had allergies before, have you?  Which is true – until now, I didn´t know what it meant to suffer from an allergy.  I´m convinced that it´s the noxious fumes emited from all of the vehicles that is doing it to me.  It´s too bad I didn´t live in Cuenca even 20 yrs ago when cars were still a rare thing, and not the sign of social status that they are now.  I won´t go into a rant about cars and the role they play in ecuadorian society, but for now I´ll say that I´m sure I´m allergice to ecuadorian vehicles.  

Besides the Baños outside of Cuenca, the more famous Baños in ecuador is outside of Ambato.  Right now, that Baños is serving as a refuge for thousands of ecuadorians who have been displaced by the recent eruption of Tunguruahua, which from here on out I´ll just call T (to save typing effort).  No lava came out of T, but plenty of ashen debris, which has caused thousands of people and animals to suffer.  All this week I was late to work as I was fixated to the morning news, listening to the latest news about T and its destruction.  The sad part is that T resides in one of the poorest regions in Ecuador.  People who already were living impoverished and marginalized lives were slammed by T.  Not that you ever want a natural disaster to affect anyone, but somehow it seems even more tragic when it happens to people who were already on the harsh end of life. 

Let´s move from a life-changing incident like a volcanic eruption to something really significant and interesting – my Spanish. I am still nowhere near fluent, but I´m improving in ways that make me happy enough to not care.  I am slowly ironing out pesky little grammatical details, and continue to plump up my vocabulary with great new spanish and quechua words.  The World Cup of course added a whole list of new words (goalie, referee, penalty kicks, overtime, etc.), but I´ve learned several other good words.  In english we say “yippee!”, but in spanish (or at least in cuenca) they say “yoopie!”  In english a chick says “cheep cheep” but in spanish they say “pio pio!”  In English when we want to call a cat, we say “Here Kitty kitty kitty!”  But here they say “Mischy Mischy Mischiy” which is quechua for Cat.  But one of my favorites – when we´re cold in english we say Brrrrr!  But in the ecuadorian highlands, they say “Aichachay!” which sounds like “Aye Ch Chai!” which is also quechua.  I have come to learn that most of my favorite spanish/quechua words involve CH: chupeta (lollipop), chendo (“joking”), aichachay, chompa (jacket), and lechuga (lettuce).

I´m learning quite a few new words from my friend Tito, of whom I will tell you about in the next blog entry…..con much cariño de ecuador! 

Yet again, this will be a random and unconnected blog entry. For one thing, I´m typing from an internet caf{e which is blaring Indian music.  Not loving it. 

Speaking of music, salsa is of course an integral part of latin american culture, and especially here in Ecuador.  And while I had always liked the music and understood the steps, my hips (caderas) were clueless.  Which was unfortunate, since salsa is all about the caderas. Salsa is very sensual, and sensuality just seems to ooze out of the latin american culture.  Sometimes they dance salsa even when there isn´t music.  It´s just really a part of their soul, and the soul of their country.  So not being able to dance salsa really means missing out on a critical part of latin america. 

If someone invited me to dance, I gave it my best effort, but it was evident to all involved that my hips were clueless.  But, then, to my absolute amazement, at dance class on Friday, something finally clicked in my brain, and the next thing I knew, my hips were gyrating in all the right directions.  I experienced a high that no drug on earth could ever compete with. I´m not saying that I should be a professional salsa dancer, or anything that aburd, but I finally understand it and love dancing it every chance I get. 

Speaking of other things that are clicking – as of late, my comprehension (ability to understand spoken spanish) has been improving remarkably.  It was always the language element that I struggled most with.  I´m so jealous of the people who can´t speak a language, but can still understand what is being said to them, bec. for the longest time, I was the total opposite.  But really, it´s best if you can both speak and hear.  I´m getting to where I can understand more and more things out of context, and can catch more and more song lyrics.  Sometimes I wonder, really?  have people been speaking this clearly this whole time? 

Total shift of subject.  It has been thrilling to be here during the Ecuadorian presidential elections. As one article I read said, Ecuadorian isn´t one of the most powerful nations in the world, but this election was pivotal  in terms of overall latin american politics.  On the one hand, there was a banana tycoon (billionaire) who was running his 3rd campaign.  During his campaign, he was literally giving handouts of food and money, and promising more if voted in.  While he was promising to give fish, the other, was promising to teach the people how to fish.  Correa, the pres. elect, is highly educated, with 2 masters – one from the US, one from Belgium, and a PhD in economics from the Univ of Illinois.  He speaks fluent English, French, and Quechua.  Between the 2 candidates, I would certainly have voted for Correa over Noboa.  While I appreciate his vision of reform and restructure, I, like many here, hope that he remembers that effective change takes time and process.  I know he doesn´t need to be reminded that Ecuador has had 8 presidents in the last 10 years. 

Next shift – Thanksgiving.  The Friday after Thanksgiving I got together with about 20 other profs to celebrate the day.  There were some of the traditional trimmings – turkey, stuffing, mashed and sweet potatoes, etc.  And a few items that I´d never seen at a Thanksgiving spread before,  – fresh guacamole, market fresh fruit salad, juices of maracuyá and tomate de arbol, etc. 

Sitting there, enjoying the fluent conversation and shared cultural references, I thought about people back in the US who don´t like it when immigrants keep to themselves.  I don´t want to judge those people, but I realize that they have no idea what it means to live in another country, culture, language, etc, willingly or unwillingly.  While I adore Ecuador, and feel pretty comfortable with the Spanish and the culture here, it´s still a very comforting thing to be in the company of people who share your native language, and your cultural background.  That´s not to say that I automatically prefer any English speaker over any Spanish speaker, or that I like every single US person I meet here –  – but in some respects, it´s easier to be w. people who are like you, and there´s comfort and a sense of safety in that ease.  And when you live in a different country, even one that you like, comfort and safety take on a whole new meaning. 

However, at the end of the night, it was obvious how Ecuador has influenced all of us.  While we in the US generally don´t kiss in our greetings and farewells to one another, having lived in Ecuador for so long, it now feels strange and foreign for me to NOT kiss hello or goodbye.  It´s always a slightly awkward thing when north americans greet and say goodbye to each other in Ecuador – ummm – do we act north american about this and keep our spatial non-touching distance, or do we do what feels more comfortable here, and kiss?  Despite the fact that there were no Ecuadorians present at the feast (they were invited but couldn´t come) we said our goodbyes with Ecuadorian kisses, which just felt right.  

Teaching cycle is almost done, and THANK GOD.  Even with the 2 classes I like, I can tell that I´m losing patience, as they´re ready to be done too.  It´s harder and harder for them to keep their focus, and they want to do nothing but play and speak Spanish.  And you can only imagine how much fun I´m having in my last (most loathed) class.  Actually, it´s not so bad.  We all can see light at the end of the tunnel, and they´ve become more bearable than they´ve prob. ever been.  But finals are next week, and then I´m taking a much anticipated and needed long weekend to the coast with a friend. 

It´s unbelievable to me that Christmas is less than a month away.  They do Christmas trees and greenery here, although they do seem out of place as I´m wearing a tanktop and miniskirt in the middle of the day.  I´m actually trying to not think about Christmas too much this year – this will be hard, as it will be my first Christmas away from home.  Of course I´m not asking for sympathy, as this is completely my own doing.  There´ll be a few of us here, and we´ll do what we can do to make the day as special as possible.  I´m already looking forward to the annual exhibit of nativity scenes in the Old Cathedral, where the scenes are made by artists from all over latin america, of all different types of materials.

Well, I have rambled far too long.  Miss you all, I think of you all at the most random times, and wish quite selfishly that you were here.  Hope that you are happy and healthy wherever you are in the world –

cariño siempre

WARNING: This month´s entry is quite disconnected and random.  

The main reason for the disconnected writing style of this entry is that I have virtually no free time, of course, mostly due to my own doing.  I have returned once again to the happy world of teaching teenagers.  Actually, my day starts with a 7am class of adults. While I would prefer to not get up that early every day, this class is worth getting up for.  They´re sharp, a lot of fun, and are a healthy break from teens.  Class ends at 8:15, and I then have a couple hours to prep, and if I have time left over, to check email.  From 10:30 to 12:30 I have Spanish class.  It would free up a lot of my time to not do those classes, but I feel that as a language teacher, I need to always remember what my students are going through, both mentally, as well as in the classroom.  Plus, I´m a nerd, and have always enjoyed the formal learning setting, and like the chance to iron out pesky grammatical details such as prepositions.  

After class I run home, grab a quick lunch, then book it to the sucursal (school branch) by 1:30 to meet with my tutorial, a rheumatologist (sp?).  He is uber-motivated to perfect his English because in December, he is going to give a speech, in English, in front of 4000 other rheumatologists.  I could NEVER imagine giving a public address in Spanish.  He´s also fascinating for the fact that he lived in Russia for 12 years and married a Russian rheumatologist who returned to Cuenca with him.  They have two children (one born in Russia, one in Cuenca), and he says that in their house, they always speak Russian.  Their children, by the way, are also fluent in Spanish, English, and German.  I hate people like that.  Ok, in sincere truth, I´m blind with envy.  

At 3, I teach my 1st class of teens.  They´re 12-14 yrs old, and are actually quite adorable.  The remind me that not all teens are walking nightmares.  But then I go to my 4:30 class, where I remember why I don´t like teens.  They´re aged 15-17, and really take it out of me.  I come home just in time to watch the sunset over the Cajas, and then it´s time to grade papers.  This is my life Monday through Thursday.  I don´t teach on Fridays, but it gets quickly filled up with laundry, soccer, going to see my girls at the orphanage, going to the market for my fresh veggies and fruits, dance class, catching up on emails, etc. 

Ecuador is having its presidential elections which in many interesting ways are quite different from those in the states.  For starters, military and police are not allowed to vote.  Everyone else is obligated to vote, and must pay a fine if they do not.  Secondly, instead of 2 major parties, there are like 15 or 16.  For the first round of elections, Ecuador becomes a dry country for 48 hours.  No alcohol can be sold before the elections, in an effort to prevent drunken voting.  Alcohol can´t be sold immediately after the elections either to prevent drunken mass rioting.  In addition to the nation wide prohibition, there as also a nation-wide curfew (toque de queda in spanish).  I felt that because I wasn´t allowed to vote, I should have been exempt from the non-drinking/ curfew rule.  But I went outside at about 11pm on the Sat. night of the curfew, and it was freaking eerie.  Every bar and club and disco shut down – not a soul on the street.  All of this fun happens again the last wknd of November for Round 2, when there´s a vote off between the top 2 candidates of the 1st round. 

I am now living with a woman from Australia (Rachel, 26) who was an accountant in her former life, and a guy from England (Andrew, 27) who worked for MARS chocolate co.  After being around so many young 20 yr olds just out of school, it´s refreshing to be around other people who actually gave up bonafide professions to make virtually nothing teaching the richest children in Ecuador. I´m also learning quite a bit of British English from the 2 of them.  Probably at least once a week one of them will whip out a word that I recognize, but use it in a way that I don´t.  I´ve learned “to bottle out” (to flake out, not do something you said you would), “to flake out” (to become very tired), etc.  I´ve also learned that Australians have an affinity for shortening words – ie – I was so unco at footy today.  translation – I was so uncoordinated at football (soccer) today.  Rachel and Andrew and I all agree that we have quite a fun house. 

I´m in the process of figuring out the rest of my life.  Well, maybe not the rest of my life, but at least the next step.  Within the next couple of months I need to decide if I´ll renew my visa or not.  Renewing it is quite easy, it´s just figuring out if that´s what I want to do or not.  The story´s pretty much the same as it´s been for months – some days I´m so in love w. Ecuador, and my life here, that I can´t imagine leaving.  I finally feel good about my Spanish, and want to keep learning it.  There are some aspects of my life here that I know I´ll lose by going back to the states.  And I´ve got some good friends here.  And then other days, I´m very aware of how far I am from friends and family back home.  It´s a conflict that I don´t think will ever resolve itself which of course makes it nearly impossible to figure out what I want to do. 

I trust that all my friends in Madison made it through Halloween ok.  I hear that they charged admission to State St.  I imagine everyone starting to get geared up for Thanksgiving Day.  Meanwhile, I´m trying to recover from the Fiestas of Cuenca, which has been 4 days long.  So fun, but so exhausting.  Well, time to close this very random blog entry.  Know that I miss you all!

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS ISSUE WAS ACTUALLY PUBLISHED IN AUGUST, BUT DUE TO A TECHNICAL ERROR WITH MY BLOGSITE, IT WAS ERASED.  IT IS BEING REPUBLISHED, BUT IS CHRONOLOGICALLY OUT OF ORDER, AS IT WAS WRITTEN BEFORE MY COLOMBIA TRIP IN SEPTEMBER…

Montañitas Verdes (little green mountains) is the name of one of my favorite ives in Cuenca.  Due to its good soups, fresh avocados, and the kind family that owns it, I eat there at least 3 times a week. I soon discovered that the place is also popular with the Cuenca police. I´d be sitting there peacefully enjoying my merienda (evening meal) when the place would become flooded with police.  It´s a small place that gets crowded fast, and when it gets crowded, strangers sit and eat with strangers.  The first few times that I had to sit and eat with the police, I felt so intimidated.  Not because they were police, but because they were a bunch of men whom I didn´t know, but clearly all knew each other, and it was glaringly obvious to all of us how much I stood out, being my gringa self.  Instead of initiating conversation with me, they would stare at me, trying to figure out why a single woman was eating by herself (ecuadorian women do not do that), and wondering if I spoke Spanish or not.  I could have started speaking with them, but it´s intimidating to start the conversation in that kind of setting. 

One night I was eating there under stares as usual when a young officer sat across from me.  Unlike the rest of his compañeros, he actually introduced himself.  I found Tito very easy to talk to, as he has a very laid back nature, and seems naturally inquistive.  After meeting Tito, I saw him everywhere, and he was always a friendly face to run into on the Cuenca streets.  Eventually phone numbers were exchanged, and Tito soon became a regular visitor to the apartment. 

When people think of cultural differences, they easily think of things like food, dress, holidays, etc.  But they often forget that one´s concept of things like trust, honesty, and humor, also are affected by culture.  Tito´s friendship is at times a blessing in my life for which I´m deeply thankful, but other days, being friends with him can be taxing, as I learn more intimately just how ecuadorian he is, and I am not.  When I am frustrated by something Tito has said or done I have to figure out if Tito is really crossing the line, or if he´s standing behind a different cultural line than I am. Like the time he called me fat, and was shocked that I wasn´t amused by that comment.  I tried to explain to him that most US women, no matter how healthy their body image, would not appreciate that comment, even if made in the spirit of humor, which apparently it had been.  I´m in his country, and am learning where he comes from, figuratively and literally, but it´s harder for him to know where I come from culturally.  I mentioned to my roommate that I wish Tito could come to the US to better understand me. In response, she said, and I love this, “Oh my gosh.  Could you imagine Tito Lara in our country!?!”  It was a thought that highly amused and mildly frightened us. 

Tito is an amazing dancer (salsa, merengue, cumbia, reggaeton, you name it), but being sensitive to other people – not his thing.  But even still, he really is buena gente (good people).  I know I can turn to him for both help and companionship, and he´s the person who calls me on a regular basis. Once I didn´t call him for 3 days because I was  busy, and he called, asking me if I was sick because he hadn´t heard from me. 

It´s amazing how many people here, when they find out I teach English, ask me for free English lessons. I do, however, give Tito free English lessons because he´s my friend, and because he helps me so much with my spanish.  I love the expressions that he teaches me just by using them.  Once he asked me when I was going to find my half orange – media naranja. At first I was confused- I hadn´t lost any oranges!  Slowly, I figured out that media naranja is how spanish speakers refer to a romantic partner, a soul mate, etc.  And after a night of playing rummy, he´ll give me an ecuadorian kiss goodbye (one on the right cheek) and say “Cuidate mi amiga, y que sueñe con los angelitos” – “Take care friend, and (I hope) that you sleep with little angels (ie. sweet dreams).”

Some of you are thinking, is there something more than just friendship with Tito – is he your media naranja?  No.  There was a very painful couple of weeks when I had feelings for Tito, who had feelings for my roommate, who had feelings for one of her students, who was too busy to realize he was a part of any love-related quagmire.  Jealousy, I am convinced, is the ugliest of all emotions.  But it´s even worse when you have to live with the person who is the object of affection of your object of affection. But after several honest and hard talks with all involved (except the unknowing student), a few phone calls to friends back home to regain perspective on things, and of course, time, things finally sorted out.  Megan and I still like each other (although she is leaving soon), and Tito and I are perhaps even better friends than before. 

I love Cuenca, but every now and then, a person just has to see new sights.  With my one month unpaid vacation, I decided it was time to know Colombia. When I was 5 or so, my family went to Colombia to adopt my younger brother, Mike.  I wasn´t naturalized yet, which means I got left behind.  Finally, I had the chance to know my brother´s birth country, so I lugged out my backpack and made my way from Cuenca to the Colombian border, 15 bus hrs away.  

A little bit of research told me where it was relatively safe to cross the border by land.  I had a minor problem at the border, but it was because the incompetent migration officials in Cuenca had told me that I, as a visa bearer, didn´t need a salido (offical permission to leave the country), when in fact I did, as I´d suspected originally.   Thankfully, the ecuadorian border officials were extremely  helpful, and got me through the border with little delay. 

I have now seen the Andes in 3 different countries (I lack only Bolivia), and it´s amazing how different they are in each country.  In Perú, the mountains are just freaking huge.  In Ecuador, they have a rugged, unforgiving look about them.  And in Colombia, they tend to be carpeted with very lush, green vegetation.  When our bus stopped for a break, I remembered that with lush vegetation comes heat.  We were in a very hot valley.  Due to the heat, and doing nothing but sitting for 5 hrs, I didn´t feel like eating, but everyone started buying cups full of what looked like plain yogurt, or sour cream.  Kumis, as it is called, is like yogurt, but tangier and a tad sweeter, and turned out to be a perfectly refreshing snack.  Upon returning to Cuenca, I found a grocery store that sells kumis and discovered that if I throw it in a blender, along w. fresh local fruit, I have the best south american smoothie. 

My first major stopping point was Salento, a small, laidback town that is a popular weekend getaway for Colombians.  It´s located in what is called the Zona Cafetera, or the Coffee Zone, because the altitude, climate, and balance of sun and rain is perfect for the production of coffee plants.  I don´t drink coffee, but I thoroughly enjoyed the walk to, and the tour through, a local organic coffee plantation.  Near Salento is a wax palm forest that I wanted to see.  The forest, with the tall graceful palms, was beautiful, but it was the ride back that was more memorable.  At the palm forest, I ran into a guy from my hostal.  He told me that on his trip to the forest, they´d put 17 people on his jeep.  I thought that was a rather high, and unsafe, number.  But then I got on the jeep to come back home, and counted that we had 17 people too.  I was joking to myself that surely we could fit more people on the jeep, when in fact we stopped, and picked up 6 more people – 23 in total!!!!!  3 in the cab, 3 on top, 6 of us (including myself) hanging from the back, and 11 poor souls smushed in the middle.  All motorcyclists in Colombia are mandated to wear a helmet. It seems to me that all people riding on top of and hanging off the back of jeeps should be held to, or at least offered, the same headware standard. 

From Salento, I rode into Bogatá at 1:30am with an Israeli  named Liran who I´d met in my hostal.  When we arrived at the hostal that he had picked out, we learned that there was one room left, and it had only 1 double bed.  By this point it was 2am: certainly not a smart time of night to be hostal hunting.  We silently acknowledged that it was not an ideal situation, but we both knew that these things happen sometimes when you travel.  Anyway, we were both so exhausted that we were both asleep within minutes. 

The next morning I realized that I´d spent enough time in South America that I could finally read Hebrew.  The hostal where we stayed is very popular with Israelis, and as a result, most of the signs in the hostal are written in Hebrew.  I saw the sign next to the exit door, and asked Liran if the sign told me that I had to leave my room key at the front desk.  Affirmative.  I saw the sign in the bathroom above the toilet, and asked Liran if the sign said that I was supposed to throw toilet paper in the waste basket, not in the toilet.  Again, affirmative.  It turns out there was only one sign that I couldn´t guess the message, and it had something to do with calling Israel. 

LOVED Bogatá.  Especially the area known as La Candelaria, the historic heart of Bogatá.  Walking through the streets of La Candelaria, with its beautifully painted colonial style architecture, museums, old churches, and little cafés, I felt more like I was walking around Cuenca, instead of a metropolis of 8 million people.  The only thing I didn´t like about La Candelaria was that while it has a TON of cafés, there are very few restaurants. One night Liran and I were looking for a place to eat, and all we could find were cafés.  At one point I said, “Do people in Bogotá ever eat real food, or do they just eat crossaints and coffee cake all day?!?!”  

Before leaving Bogotá, I wanted to see the famed salt cathedral in Zipaquirá, a town outside of Bogotá. First, I had to figure out Bogatá´s transit system to get to a point where I could take a colectivo to Zipaquirá.  Once in Zipaquirá, I knew the salt cathedral was a 15 min. walk from the town center, but had to figure out in which direction  (The cathedral is built inside a salt mine). Once I had arrived at the salt cathedral, I then had to figure out their confusing system of where one buys a ticket, and then stand in line for a tour.  While very open to tourists, Colombia doesn´t cater to tourists.  Meaning, it´s hard to find hostals that do one day laundry service, or tours to popular sights, or other amenities that backpackers come to rely on.  It would´ve been much more convenient if my hostal had provided explicit directions for how one gets to the salt cathedral from central Bogatá.  But then, I wouldn´t have had the pleasure of knowing that I´d figured it out myself.  The salt cathedral itself was quite fascinating, and I wish I could show you all pictures. But due to lighting issues, it really is one of those things where photos, unless you have amazing equipment, just leaves you lacking.  

From Bogotá, I made the 7 hour trip to Cali, the salsa (dance, not condiment) capital of the world.  It was on this trip that I experienced one of the most ironic moments of my life. While enjoying the scenery, the following ran through my head…

Colombia is such a great country…why don´t more people come to Colombia?  Oh wait, because everyone thinks the country is overrun by guerillas.  That sucks.  Yeah, there are guerillas here, and there are definitly places I wouldn´t travel to in Colombia.  But it´s not like guerillas are jumping out of every bush.  I know, traveling has inherent risks, and things could happen, but I honestly, I feel relatively safe in Colombia.  I wish other people could see that there´s more to Colombia than the guerillas.

Just at that point, someone started the DVD on the bus.  The good thing about long distance busses in Colombia is that most of them will show 1 or 2 movies through the course of the trip.  The bad thing is that they are always stupid violent action movies that are played so loudly that you can´t tune them out.  The movie at this particular moment was a Schwarzeneggar movie.  I don´t know the name of the movie, but it´s the one where his wife and son are killed by a Colombian guerilla near the Colombian consulate in Washington.  This moment was much much more awkward than sharing a bed with Liran in Bogotá. It´s a very surreal, educational, and uncomfortable thing to be a US citizen in another country, and to see a movie depicting how the US views the country that your traveling through.  I´m don´t really feel I can adequately describe my feelings here, so I guess I´ll move on. 

Let´s talk about language.  I felt like a beginner Spanish learner all over again.  Without a doubt, I understood more and was able to communicate myself more effectively than I would´ve been able to a year ago, but it was still humbling.  Not in a bad way – actually, it´s good experience to hear how people use the same language so differently.   Colombians speak so quickly and with such a different  accent than I am used to, that, if I heard people speaking but wasn´t listening for the individual words, it almost didn´t sound like Spanish to me.  But I will say, I was very proud of the fact that I travelled through Colombia without my Spanish dictionary.  Obviously I don´t know every Spanish word one can know, but I figured by this point, I had a pretty good vocabulary that if I didn´t know a word, I could figure out other ways to express it, or to solicit the word. 

Hated Cali.  I´m sure there are some really fabulous parts of the city that I missed out on, but in the short time that I was there, it just seemed to be overrun with smarmy men who wouldn´t stop looking at me like I was some kind of prey.  Cali is the only place where I didn´t like the men. 

Outside of Cali, I found Colombians to be warm and respectful in their interactions, both with one another and with me, as an outsider.  Ecuadorians pride themselves on their politeness, a belief which some days amuses me, and other days annoys me.  I could cite several examples in which, under my definition of what is socially correct or expected, I find Ecuadorians to be quite impolite.  Colombians, however, are different.  I think I´m a more polite person just for having been in Colombia for a few weeks.  And they´re not polite in a sweet sticky fake face way, or in a I´m only saying this because I´m required by social convention, but in what appears to be a very genuine, inherent manner.  Being in latinamerica, it´s one thing to find the women to be congenial and respectful.  But to be treated with dignity by the men of various social classes and professions (including the police and military, taxi drivers, etc.) – well, it was just very refereshing.  It made the men seem even more attractive to me, and I already found many Colombian men to be physically very attractive. 

After escaping Cali, I rode for 4 hours on what must be one of the most awful roads in the world to get to a place called San Agustín.  But it was vale la pena (worth the pain) because San Agustín is famous for hundreds of sculptures of people and animals.  Specialists know that these sculptures were made as early as 3300 BC, and were created up until the coming of the Spaniards.  Even someone who does not specialize in pre-colombian culture can see the evolution of details and subject matter in the statues.  But what is most fascinating to me is that in the year 2006, with all of our accumulated knowledge, and technology, and stuff, little is known about the culture which created these statues.  Specialists can´t even identify the name of the culture, or what happened to them once the Spaniards came.  I just think it´s so wonderfully humbling that there is something beyond our reach of knowledge.  We can know that they existed on earth, see some of their handiwork, but beyond that, they´re a mystery, and that´s very appealing to me. 

My last sightsee was a famous church in Las Lajas, and then it was time to cross the border and come back into Ecuador.  I had had such a relaxing and enjoyable time in Colombia and it was just what I´d needed.  But as every traveller knows, it gets old living out of a suitcase, bouncing from hostal to hostal, having conversations with people every day that you´ll never see again.  It was time to go home.  And I realized, as I walked across the bridge, that I was I going home for the first time in over year.  When people ask me where home is, it´s hard to answer.  If they want to know, where do I want to be on Christmas day, where are the people who have known me my entire life – well, then the answer is Newton, IA.  If they want to know, where do I most feel like myself, where can I surround myself with people whose perspectives most mirror mine, then the answer is Madison, WI.  But if they want to know, where is your life right now, where is the place where your bed is made, where you want to crash after you´ve been traveling, then the answer is Cuenca, EC.  Under that definition, it´d been a long time since I´d gone home, and it felt really nice. 

When I was in high school, I had a sizable crush on BJ Armstrong, who, at the time, played for the University of Iowa.  While BJ was on the team, I knew the name of every player, their hometowns, important stats, etc.  I eagerly anticipated each and every Iowa basketball game, and proudly wore black and gold, win or loss.  I haven´t followed or cared about a team like that since.  Until now.  It´s been such a fun and important part of my Ecuador experience to follow them from their qualification game against Uruguay (back in October), through the “friendly” international matches during the anticipative months leading up to the Cup, and then through the Cup games themselves.  I know the names, hometowns, ages, and positions of all the players on the Ecuadorian team, and could make a good guess who they play for professionally.  I may even admit that I have a crush on one or two of them.  And no doubt, I wear my Ecuador seleción shirt every chance I get. 

When Ecuador lost to England, there was of course a sense of sadness, as there always is when a dream comes to an end.  But the more prominent emotion felt and expressed by everyone was that of immense pride.  Everywhere, on TV, in the streets, the message changed from “sí se puede” to “Muchas Gracias Seleción Por Todo – Misión Cumplida!”  Ecuador´s selecion had played their very best, and represented their country in a most admirable way.  Despite the loss, there was still plenty of flag waving, horn-honking, and all around celebration of what had been a historic event for little Ecuador.  It was a good reminder to me of what sports should really be all about

Aside from the Cup, there have been some changes in my life.

1) For a minor change of scenery, I went with my roommate and his friends to the coastal town of Montañitas (which means Little Mountains, confusingly enough).  For two glorious days, my feet got to feel soft, soothing sand beneath them.  The historic part of Cuenca, where I live, has cobblestone streets and sidewalks.  I hate cobblestone.  Oh, it´s lovely and charming and all, but it is so hard on feet.  It´s so unforgiving and uneven that my feet are forever in a state of trauma – all aspirations I ever had of being a foot model have vanished. 

Anyway – back to Montañitas – Montañitas, like all beach towns, is pretty laid back, and something about the salty air just make it tranquilo.  If you want to hang in a hammock, smoke eed, party from midnight until 5am, or surf the morning away, Montañitas would be your heaven.  Montañitas is filled with people, both gringos and ecuadorians, who came to Montañitas, and just never found their way back out.  As I don´t really fit into any of the above categories, I didn´t have any problems leaving.  It was a nice place to visit, but I´m always ready to come back to Cuenca. 

2) Now for some more significant changes.  I broke up with Gerardo.  I think it was for the best, for both of us.  We´re still on very good terms, and keep in touch, but for now, I´m on my own again. 

3) I´ve taken a break from teaching teenagers to working with preschoolers.  Supposedly, teaching teens can be rewarding,  but I had a hard time dealing with their hormonal energy. Preschoolers no doubt abound with energy as well, but it´s an energy that I can more naturally match. I went from teaching 2nd conditionals and the present perfect progressive, to teaching “Duck Duck Goose”, and the numbers 11-20.  We start every morning with the Hokey Pokey, which they LOVE.   I have of course, already found my favorites.  There´s Pedrito, whose physicality and personality both remind me of my nephew Seth.  And there´s Maria Emelia, who has the best giggle in the world. 

But my heart breaks every day for little Juan Carlos.  The recent divorce of his parents has affected Juan Carlos profoundly.  Divorce of course affects different kids differently, but I think it´s hardest on children who are especially sensitive to the pain of others.  Imagine not having even basic words to express your own pain, or the developmental maturity to understand its source.  If I let him, he would melt in a corner all morning. But he´s slowly warming up to me, and I´m slowly finding gentle but effective ways to coax him out of the corner and out of his shell.  I of course try to give all the kids as much praise and positive attention as I can, but, quite shamelessly, I give Juan Carlos just a little more. 

4) Finally, I had to move apartments.  Both of my roommates had left, and despite my best efforts, I couldn´t find replacements.  I was both sad and bitter about having to move.  Sad, because I absolutely loved my apartment, my street, etc.  Bitter because I had showed my apartment to several other teachers who had decided it wasn´t good enough for them. I can hear people now saying, Jenni, you shouldn´t take it personally.  But in a way, it was personal for me, because it meant that I had to give up a place that was home to me.  As much as I loved the place, I just couldn´t cough up the entire rent on my own. 

So, I moved into a place known as the Sucre house (because it´s on Sucre street).  It´s sort´ve like living in a hostal. It´s a large courtyard style 2 story house, with the family living on one side, and 9 gringos living on the other.  It all feels very Big Brotherish (the reality show, not the political reference), and it feels more like living in a nice hostal than in a comfy home to me.   But, it is a beautiful house, full of hammocks, big plants, and light, and I imagine I´ll eventually get used to it. I even have my own private balcony, where, facing the south, I can still see the Southern Cross on a clear night (from the terrace of my last place, I had a PERFECT view of the cross).  As soon as Marvelyn Adams sends me sheet music, I will send pictures of the place. 

Discoveries

            It´s been over 2 months since I´ve returned to Cuenca, and in some ways, I feel very settled in here.  After a month and a half, I finally had all of my documents in order, making me a non-immigrant resident, and I quickly reacquainted myself with all of my favorite Cuenca haunts.  In many respects, I know Cuenca better than any other place I´ve ever lived.   
            And yet, I continue to discover Cuenca and Ecuador.  I´ll never forget my first year in my house.  Every season fascinated me, as it showed me new aspects of my house.  It was fun in the spring to see what flowers popped up out of the ground, in the fall I discovered just how many trees I had on my tiny property, etc.  My time in Cuenca has been very similar, as I´ve experienced Cuenca through its various yearly celebrations. And major events aside, I continue to find new favorite restaurants, foods, parks, etc.  
            I have also discovered the rich element of Cuenca.  When I was here before I stayed in the central part of Cuenca, which contains all of the history, tradition, pride, poverty, and charm of Cuenca .  My time was spent with the working class of Cuenca, talking with street children, shoe shiners, guards, store owners, etc. On a daily basis I had to make sure that I had singles and fives, as most of my money transactions rarely exceeded $3, and people would laugh if I handed them a twenty dollar bill, expecting change.
            But, now that I teach for CEDEI, on a daily basis I rub elbows with the richest of Ecuador´s rich. Cuenca still has its poor huddled masses yearning to be free from their disenfranchised impoverished lives.  But, overall, Cuenca, with the highest cost of living in Ecuador, is FAR from the 3^rd world provincial experience that many of you may think I´m suffering..   Discovering all of the places in Cuenca that one would find in virtual middle class USA has actually inflicted on me a form of culture shock, which is strange considering how long I´ve lived in Cuenca.  I don´t mean to say that Cuencanos shouldn´t have nice comfy lives like we do back in the states. But with their ipods, cell phones and other toys, rich Cuencanos, while still very Ecuadorian in some ways, adopt many of the attitudes and customs of USians (I don´t like to use the word Americans to refer to only those of us in the States), and that is not always a positive or attractive thing.  Because I spend so much time with rich people, I value even more my relationships at the orphanage.  Being there, it´s easier for me to remember why I came back to Ecuador, and what I really love and value about this country.