Reckless Wonder

Back in the States…

2008-10-11T19:51:00.000-07:00

A few months later... I’ve finally found some time to recap what happened after I left Ecuador! Nothing like suspense. After leaving Cuenca, we traveled South into Lima, Peru and then on to Cusco. Cusco and I quickly developed a rocky relationship. Our group hadn’t even left the airport and I was already sick. We spent the first two days visiting a bunch of ancient Incan ruins. One evening, our group had just gotten off a tourist bus when all of a sudden, this long-haired hippy dude was asking me in Spanish where the bathroom was. Low and behold, it was MATT! WOAH! We’d planned on meeting later that week at Machu Picchu, but he has super powers, and found me ahead of time. Yeah, it was pretty cool. Only not so much like the movies, because I didn't recognize him at first. Dreadful, I know. Ever on stranger danger alert, my friends were actually prepared to pull me away. Unfortunately, not too long after that, I had an intense 24-hr battle with Altitude Sickness. So while everyone else toured Cusco ruins, I slowly died on the bus. Yeah, I was pretty miserable. This other tourist actually pointed at me, asked “Altitude sickness?” and quickly gave me some sweets that are intended to cure you. When the guidebook suggests taking time to acclimate yourself to the altitude, you really should. Thankfully, I recovered on the train ride to Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu was the most surreal experience of my life; I still can’t believe I was really there. Thank goodness for pictures because there just aren’t words to explain how amazing and magical it truly is. I’m afraid I would spoil it if I even tried. We arrived super early in the morning to be one of the initial 200 that get to climb up Wyna picchu (the big mountain in the classic Machu Picchu photo). That was a workout in and of itself; but once you get to the top, you are rewarded with a truly breathtaking view, especially as the morning light breaks through the fog. I definitely recommend it.

The next morning, I said adios to my group. It was definitely tough to say goodbye to the people I’d shared such a unique experience with, especially knowing our paths would probably never cross again. But Matt and I wanted to continue traveling, so we hopped a bus and headed for the Peruvian/Bolivian border where I got to utilize my Spanish to get us into the country (for some reason we’d forgotten to pack booze for bargaining power). We actually had to pay for a VISA. That’s what we get for being Unitedstatesians (new word, you should try it out).

Our next stop was Copacabana, Bolivia. Cool place. Laid back. Lots of hippies. One day, while hiking out to the tip of a peninsula, we passed a cave that housed Mother Mary shrine and met many local kids who kept asking for “dulces” (candy). We then got a boat ride from a local across a bit of Lake Titicaca (the highest navigable lake in the world) to the Isla de Sol (Sun Island). The sun was setting, casting beautiful light all over the Bolivian Mountains, and it was just gorgeous. We’d ambitiously rented camping equipment in Cusco and thought we should give it a go on the Isla de Sol. While setting up camp, two men showed up and wanted us to pay for our space (this is South America, there were no designated campsites). I knew it wasn’t too uncommon to have to pay, but I was worried people were going to hit us up all night, claiming we owed them for our tent space. I’ve experienced the worry that comes with wondering what animals are roaming around your tent, but I’ve never lost sleep before wondering what men were outside. Needless to say, that was the only night we camped. Isla de Sol was beautiful when the sun was actually out (apparently it looks a bit like the Mediterranean) but after hiking across the island, we took off as soon as we could the next morning.

Watch out! We arrived in La Paz, Bolivia around 9 pm, well after the sun had set. Literally, the second we got off the bus a police man asked to see my papers while asking me a bunch of questions. I was like, “What the heck is going on?” Meanwhile, Matt was motioning for me to keep moving. I was soo confused. It was a policeman! How could I walk away from him? Then Matt explained about how he’d read about fake policeman and how they try to scam you by convincing you that you need to go to the “police office.” Then they try to escort you in a “taxi” and take your money. Yikes! I’m glad Matt had done his homework. Who knows how far it would have gone before I’d realized I was getting scammed. La Paz was incredibly crowded and disgusting. Sunday night must have been garbage night because the streets were littered with trash, including used toilet paper everywhere.

We took an overnight bus to Uyuni, the starting point for tours of the salt flats in southern Bolivia. Matt and I were the only tourists on the bus, and that definitely makes you keep a closer watch on your belongings. The folks across the aisle from us had smuggled their dog in under some blankets, so that was entertaining. I couldn’t help but wonder about its bladder control though. Glad we weren’t sitting behind them… At six in the morning, with the bus windows officially frosted over and no sun to be found, the driver dropped us off in Uyuni, where there was no where to go. Poor timing, I know. Scheduling is not included amongst the South American bus system’s many high points. Hours later, we found ourselves on a jeep tour with two couples from Holland. We spent the next three days driving over the Salt Flats and exploring the desert, geysers, and hot springs. The Salt Flats experience was much like visiting the ocean. Only instead of observing blue waves as far as the eye can see, you saw white salt. Crazy, I know! At times I forgot I was on salt and wondered when the jeep was going to fall through the ice. Cool, most definitely. Other highlights included listening to the same awful tape for three days straight, chasing Vicuña (like llamas), seeing pink flamingos, having a flat tire at 5:30 in the morning (once again, before the sun rose, FREEZING Death), and running out of gas when we were 30 minutes away from returning to Uyuni. Got to love tours in Bolivia. Don’t bother complaining, that’s life. Oh yeah, and don’t forget to tip for how smooth things went. HA! Really though.

Life was pretty uneventful on the way home. However, there was that one time when the bus stopped and all the locals got off while the tourists stayed on. We had heard this would happen and that we needed to find a little boat that would take us across the lake while the bus went across on its own ferry. Only the locals were super quick to the boat, and took off before we could jump inside. Sitting in the next boat, we watched as our bus crossed the lake while we remained beached. Oh dear. The boat man said we couldn’t take off until the boat was full of people, and that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Once again, I was super worried, convinced that that was the last time I would see the bus, and that Matt’s luggage would be gone forever. Somehow, thankfully, we scooted our way across the lake and found the bus before it left us behind. Whew! After successfully crossing the border back into Peru, we continued to Cusco and took a flight to Lima.

The next day, I was back in Dundee, Iowa. To quote Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, “There’s no place like home.” Four months later, South America slips into my mind every once in awhile. I didn’t experience much for culture shock. The cost of living was a bit of slap in the face. But I had camp to buffer that transition for me.

I’d love to return some day. Hopefully my Spanish will improve so I can converse with my host family and we can laugh about all of the things I didn’t understand before. I am still so grateful for this experience. I experienced wonder unlike that which I’d ever experienced before. But more importantly, my eyes have been opened to recognizing wonder in my daily life. Thanks again for all of your kind words, encouragement, and prayers! They met (and continue) to mean so much to me.

Just Like That

2008-04-25T08:10:00.000-07:00

Hello! Sorry I disappeared for awhile but we had finals this week and life has just been flying by. I have one more day left in Cuenca. So hard to believe that I’m already saying “goodbye” to this wonderful place and kind people. Ecuador has definitely been an incredible adventure and I am super thankful for all that I’ve experienced. Some day, when things aren’t so whirlwindish, I will attempt to process more here because I’m just not capable of “wrap up” thoughts at the moment.

Sunday morning we're heading to Peru where we'll be visiting Machu Picchu! And then hopefully on to Bolivia, but that requires a VISA. So we'll see. I'll be home for two days towards the end of May and then on to EWALU for the summer! Wow. While in Peru I won’t have many (if any) opportunities to post. However, pictures will come some day! I promise! Thanks so much for letting me share this adventure with you! Wish I could have done it justice. Peace.

When I Smile at You…

2008-04-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

Ask any girl in my program about whether or not they like Cuenca, and you’re almost guaranteed to hear, “I love Cuenca, but I can’t stand the guys on the street.” Granted, there are only a few select men who really drive us insane. But unfortunately, a few is all it takes…

When I smile at you… that is not an invitation to hiss and whistle at me. Gross.
When I smile at you… that is not an invitation to caress my hand and tell me you want me. Eww.
And when I smile at you… that is certainly NOT an invitation to follow me home.

A couple of months ago I stopped to rest at the church plaza a few blocks from my house. It was about 6 pm on a Sunday night and the sun hadn’t begun to set yet. At the plaza I noticed a guy with shoulder length hair and a big backpack sitting on a bench. He didn’t seem to fit in and for some reason, I was drawn to him and had an urge to plop myself down on the bench next to him and attempt to have a conversation. Mind you, this was the FIRST time I’d actually even contemplated starting up a conversation with some random guy in Cuenca. Then I came to my senses, realized that I was by myself and that it probably wasn’t the best idea. So I passed him and found my own bench to sit on. About ten minutes later I took off for home and had just turned down my street when all of a sudden I hear “Hola.” I stop, turn, look, and low and behold, it’s Mystery Man from the park. At first I was really excited and thought to myself, “Wow, I really am supposed to talk to you; you just showed up!” And then as I stared at his eyes and got incredibly creeped out by how bloodshot they were, it suddenly hit me: Mystery Man had followed me home.

What to do?! I was three houses away from my home and I live on a dead street. I really didn’t want this man to find out where I lived; but then again, I couldn’t just turn around and have him continue to follow me somewhere else. All I wanted was to be safe and sound inside my house. And then the questions began. “Who are you? What’s your name? Where are you from? Where do you live? What are you doing? Don’t you understand me?” Harmless enough, but I panicked and started walking super fast to my house. Although I didn’t respond whatsoever, Mystery Man turned Creep continued to follow me and all of a sudden I was jogging to my house, praying that I would be able to unlock the gate without fumbling and dropping the keys. Thankfully, I made it inside the gate, and as I was shutting it, Mr. Creep was right on the other side staring in. I didn’t even lock it because I was so paranoid he’d reach in and take the keys from me. Instead I ran inside the house and thanked God for that crazy alarm system it has. Then I realized that I was absolutely shaking. I was so, so, SO frustrated with myself. I’ve always had such big dreams of being super independent and being able to travel around the world all by myself. And I let that man get to me. I let him upset me and scare me. Worst of all, I let him see that he scared me.

So I wrestled with these thoughts all night long. I really had felt like I was supposed to talk to that guy, and yeah, you may think me crazy, but I don’t usually get those urges. And what was I scared away by? His creepy eyes. The fact that he’d followed me for blocks and hadn’t spoken up sooner. The fact that he continued to follow me even though I wasn’t responding to him and it was certainly obvious that he was making me feel uncomfortable. Had he not had such scary looking eyes, I probably would have stopped and talked to him. Was fear a barrier or a savior in this case? I’ll never know. I’ll never know his story. And that seriously makes me feel pretty bad.

The next morning I woke up and for two seconds seriously considered remaining in my house all day long. How do rape victims ever step outside again? And then I was like, “Good gracious, Kate. You can’t let fear consume you like this.” So I put on a hooded sweatshirt, made sure my blond hair was safely tucked away from view, pulled the strings on my hood so that only my eyes were peeping out, and pretended I was a spy as I took a different route to school.

I really didn’t want to share this story because I know people worry. No need to do that. I am fine and have not had any other ridiculous run-ins. Not to mention, I now have a game plan and it involves carrying a cell phone and always having some change in case I need to hail a taxi. But I wanted to talk about “Wonder.” And while this is nothing like amazed admiration, I really do wonder about how the men on the streets have affected me. I think twice about smiling at people now. And sometimes, I don’t even make eye contact. This is definitely not my style and sometimes I feel as if something within me has died. Have I become hardened? I’ve noticed the guys treating some local girls the same way. And they appear to respond the same way I do, with disgust. How do you go about loving people when their behavior completely repulses you? Thankfully, a dear friend reminded me of the great difference between “like” and “love”. I do not like the way these men behave. But I don’t have to like them to love them. It starts with prayer.

When I smile at you… it’s not an invitation to smooch at me. Who do you think you are? No, that does not make me feel like a queen. Does not make me feel sexy. And it certainly does not make me feel attracted to you. It makes me feel dirty. Incredibly, incredibly dirty.

When I smile at you… I’m just sharing that life is good. And that wherever you’re at, hang in there. There is hope. Have a good day.

Discrimination

2008-04-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

One night I was skimming through the Cuenca newspaper when I came across an advertisement for some Miss Ecuador contest. I was surprised to see that of the three beautiful women in the advertisement’s photo, one was black. I pointed her out to a woman and asked if black people experience much discrimination in Cuenca. I was particularly interested in her views because she is indigenous, and as far as the social hierarchy goes, indigenous people tend to fall in the level right above black people. The woman declared that “No, no,” that blacks don’t experience any discrimination. But then she went on to tell me about how she knew of a host family who had once hosted a white student in the past who’s boyfriend had come to visit from the United States. The woman had seen him and adamantly exclaimed that he was UGLY and that the girl had never brought him around to actually meet the family. When I asked her why she thought he was ugly all she could say was that he was very black. Tears seriously sprang to my eyes and I just shook my head in amazement to her response. Riiiiiight, discrimination isn't an issue. I explained to her that in the US some people date and sometimes even marry individuals of another race. She was super surprised by this but I also pointed out that heck yes, discrimination definitely still exists in the US. It astounds me how successfully the beliefs that the Spanish conquistadors brought with them were socially constructed into the New World and that they penetrate so deeply to this day. Super scary.

Homosexuality…

2008-04-14T08:17:00.000-07:00

My second week in Cuenca I was super crushed to hear that Heath Ledger had passed away. When I announced this to my host family they immediately recognized his name and were like “Oh yeah! Brokeback Mountain!” Only in Spanish. Host brother laughingly proclaimed that God had punished Heath for playing a gay cowboy. Gulp. Once again, it was only my second week there, and I hadn’t quite caught on that my host brother spends the majority of the time joking. I didn’t want to risk getting kicked out of the house for my views so I chose not to respond to his comment.

However, the other night host mom and I got on the topic of homosexuality once again. She was explaining how when her sons were in college, the main dangers were drinking and drugs. But nowadays, those dangers have been replaced with the danger of homosexuality. I couldn’t believe it. She went on to say that for many young men in Cuenca, it has become “fashionable” to be gay. Interesting way to put it. I wonder how she came to that conclusion and if she’s ever actually conversed with some one who’s come out of the closet. She was clearly upset and adamantly expressed that it just wasn’t Christian and that my generation had no concept of morals and values anymore. Woah! I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but Cuenca is probably the most conservative place in Ecuador and I couldn’t help but assume that her view is quite typical. She never asked for my opinion and unfortunately, I was too intimidated by her attitude to even begin to play devil’s advocate. What would she have said if I’d told her that there are actually some homosexual pastors serving in the Lutheran Church? Yikes! Watch out! Yeah, I just didn’t picture that conversation heading down a productive path whatsoever. So I stood in silence, which can sometimes be a danger in and of itself.

Jungle Journey

2008-04-10T08:04:00.000-07:00

No, FARC did not capture us in the jungle, although we did think about making I HEART FARC shirts just in case we did cross paths. Our local guides said that from where they were in the jungle, they heard the air raid that took place a month ago when Columbian troops entered Ecuador. Crazy!

Thursday morning we flew over Mt. Cotopaxi on our way north to Quito and then on to Coca where we got on a bus and took off for a three-hour bumpy ride into the orient. However, we hadn’t even left Coca when the bus driver scratched the side of a taxicab. The taxi driver wanted to make a big deal about the missing paint on his door so he and our bus driver had a good yelling match while every man in the vicinity circled around them. We waited on the bus where the heat slowly zapped the life out of us. The two drivers must have figured something out because after half an hour we took off again, unfortunately, with much less confidence in our driver’s capabilities. We finally made it to the Aguarico River (a tributary to the Amazon) where we hopped in a motor canoe and cruised down the river for the next three hours until we reached the yacht, a fancy floating hotel. At first it felt like I was on the Maquoketa River and I realized a botanist would have killed me for that comment. But pretty soon the rainforest got thicker and the guide mentioned that if we were to traverse through the vegetation to our yacht it would take us two years… if we had a machete. The sun felt marvelous after rainy and chilly Cuenca weather. The yacht was interesting… definitely provided a hotsy totsy home base that made for probably one of the wimpiest jungle adventures in the history of jungle adventures. But hey, it was still cool.

Friday morning we woke up right away around 5:30, jumped into the motorboats again, and enjoyed the wildlife. Right away I discovered that the rainforest in person isn’t exactly like viewing the Discovery Channel. Go figure. The guides would get all excited and point at a bird flying above us and we’d all crane our heads backwards and try to figure out how this bird differed from the last bird. Yeah, they all looked the same to me. At one point we saw some branches shaking way off in the distance and got really excited because YES! Low and behold, there were monkeys! Later on that day we ventured into the jungle. Upon entering, “Wow” escaped all of our lips. It really was something else. The jungle was pretty dark and cool and the canopy was so thick you rarely saw the sky. I was surprised by the great number of palms and there was vegetation everywhere. I was super thankful for the guide because there’s no way I could ever even dream of navigating that place by myself. The insects were deafening. They were everywhere and one time I seriously had to break out the ants in pants dance because they attacked hard core and I was pulling ants off of my body the rest of the time we were walking. Some people ate some smaller ants that tasted like lemons. I passed on the ants because for some reason, larva looked more appetizing?! So I crunched on that instead. Then the guide handed me a mushroom (I think it was poisonous?!) and had me wash the larva down with some water. I won’t even pretend… it was GROSS. Yeah… I wouldn’t do so well with the jungle diet. That night we went fishing for piranhas! We didn’t catch anything but while waiting we saw some pink dolphins that were hanging around our motorboat! They didn’t jump out of the water but they would surface every once in awhile and you could tell that they were indeed a pinkish/grey color. On our way back to the yacht it was pitch black so we took out some spotlights and searched the banks for caiman (small crocs). Once again, the guide would get super excited claiming he saw glowing red eyes and we’d head for the shore and stare for awhile… nope, I didn’t see anything but heck yes I still got excited.

Saturday morning we visited the local Cofan tribe and they led us through another section of the jungle and pointed out certain medicinal plants to us. Our guide was pretty cool because he made a backpack out of palms and also showed us the scars he received from an Ocelot that had attacked him one time when he was hunting. No, the local people were not naked; in fact, while we were there they were wearing Western garb. That afternoon I contemplated jumping in the river. Now I’d been warned numerous times before coming to Ecuador that if I went swimming, I could NOT pee in the river. Rumor has it that the parasite candirú (the Terrifying Toothpick Fish) is attracted to urea. These guys are not so cool because they painfully shoot up your system and one usually has to have them surgically removed. So I was sitting on the edge of the boat with these visions running through my head, contemplating whether or not I wanted to jump into the Terrifying Toothpick Fish/Piranha/Caiman/and who knows what else infested water when all of a sudden, someone pushed me in! I couldn’t believe it! Did she not realize that one of the most dangerous products of surprise is wetting one’s pants?!?! Fortunately, not for this girl. Whew! So now I can boast that I survived the Terrifying Toothpick Fish/Piranha/Caiman/ and who knows what else infested water. We visited another Cofan tribe that night and they showed us around their turtle reproduction project. They used to hunt turtles but they’re now working to protect them. Sweet deal. Then we motor boated it back into the sunset. Pretty cool stuff.

Sunday involved more hiking through the jungle. This time our guide had us build a hut out of palms and explained that that’s what the natives sleep in when they go on overnight hunting trips. Pretty cool, though I would definitely be nervous about sharing space with the snakes. Speaking of, somehow I managed to not see a single one! I was pretty relieved but at the same time, somewhat disappointed. I’m scared to death of them, so it would have been nice to work on confronting that fear. I should probably begin with the Gardner though, and not the Anaconda. That night we went on a night hike through the jungle, armed with our flashlights to check out all of the night insects. My group was pretty jumpy and not overly enthused about creepy crawling things so it was definitely entertaining to take up the rear and listen to their squeals. When we returned in the motorboat the stars were incredibly bright and for the first time I was really able to notice how the constellations look different down here in the southern hemisphere. Some of the girls had never seen stars that bright so it was definitely a treat for them. I was amazed by our guide, who safely navigated us back to the yacht in the complete dark, down a river broken up by trees that had fallen in and were sticking out here and there.

Sunday morning we took off at nine in the morning and got back to Cuenca at nine at night. While the jungle was cool, my heart truly does belong in these majestic mountains and it was nice to be back in the cooler weather. I continue to be BLOWN away by how diverse this country is. I was probably another ten pounds heavier from the incredible food we’d eaten and absolutely covered in hundreds of bug and ant bites. Popping a squat in the jungle proved to be a bad idea as the mosquitoes definitely made a quick meal out of my bum. Oh, and I really do have more pics, the Internet here has just been ridiculously slow. Some day…

Out and About Cuenca

2008-03-31T13:16:00.000-07:00

• People who work in offices seem to have a pretty strict dress code. The streets are always full of workers wearing matching clothing, as if they were twins.
• Cuencanos love to stroll and walk arm-in-arm, which makes them super difficult to pass on sidewalks. Sometime I feel like I’m playing Red Rover as I try to get around them.
• As slow as they can walk, you put them behind a wheel and they go crazy! Pedestrians DO NOT have the right away here and you risk your life thinking you do.
• HONKING. I have never heard so much in my entire life. Cars will zoom down the road and honk at every single corner to ensure that no one pulls out in front of them. And if the front car at a stoplight hasn’t successfully anticipated the changing of the light, the whole line will remind him the millisecond it turns green, if not before.
• Motorcycles love to sneak in and around traffic and one day I stepped off a curb and was nearly hit by one that came out of nowhere. Surprisingly, about half of the motorcyclists I see are wearing helmets.
• The public bus system is super efficient. Unfortunately, they pour out so much contamination that you seriously have to cover your face and not breathe until you have walked through the nasty black cloud of pollution.
• Women here are definitely more feminine and I can’t get over how they can successfully race across the cobblestone streets and slippery sidewalks without wiping out on their stilettos.
• Guys don’t wear sandals and women don’t leave the house wearing shorts, even during the hottest days. Host mom says this would be considered inelegant.
• Occasionally you’ll catch a man relieving himself, like the day I looked out the window and saw a man making his mark on a telephone pole near my house. Lovely.
• People don’t think twice about throwing their trash on the street. Fortunately, there’s a really great cleanup crew that wears brightly colored customs and spends its time sweeping up dog crap and everyone’s trash.
• I have yet to find any means of recycling and I cringe every time I have to throw a water bottle into the trash, especially after having worked in recycling and composting at Luther this past semester.
• According to my host parents, they have never seen rain like this, and if you don’t bring your umbrella with you in the afternoons, you will inevitably get wet. We all look like a bunch of Mary Poppins.

Canyoning and Bridge Swinging

2008-03-28T15:40:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning we awakened to discover that the Easter Bunny failed to find us in Baños. Not only that, but roomie and I were super sick. However, medicine really does work wonders and it had our systems under control before we were scheduled to go canyoning (canyoneering in the US). Canyoning is basically traveling through canyons; on our adventure, this involved repelling down waterfalls. It was definitely a surreal experience to be walking down waterfalls and I couldn’t wrap my head around it while I was repelling. I still can’t. We got to wear some pretty snazzy wetsuits and some bottom thing that reminded me of a diaper. I told the guide this and he proceeded to call me “baby” for our remaining time together. Wonderful. Anyway, I don’t have a whole lot of repelling experience and when you throw in Spanish directions and water it makes for one entertaining experience. It definitely required more concentration than I was expecting and I focused a lot of energy on where I was going to put my feet so that I wouldn’t slip and smash my face into the rocks.

The biggest thrill came when we made it to the grand finale. Standing at the top of the waterfall, I looked over the edge and all I could think about was how far away the ground seemed and I was officially crazy thinking I was going to step off the ledge. However, this proved to be the easiest waterfall as it only included about ten feet of repelling before the rock face disappeared and you basically just chilled as you lowered yourself to the ground while the waterfall sprayed you. It was a pretty cool sensation to just hang out suspended in air while enjoying the view of the canyon.

However, the real adrenaline rush came later on that afternoon when my friend Jess convinced me that we should try Bridge Swinging. At first I was not so much a fan of this idea (I was thinking about my poor stomach, the fact that we had an 8-hr bus ride ahead of us, and I REALLY didn’t want to mess up my back or neck). However, once we stopped our guide jumped first to calm our nerves. As soon as I saw him dive off, my endorphins went crazy and I knew there was no way I could leave without jumping. So I did.

The most nerve-racking part was standing up on the side of the bridge. I was all harnessed in and there was a bungee like cord attached to my front that was also attached to the bottom of the bridge. So I stood up on the bridge with buses and cars passing behind me, counted to three, and turned into Pocahontas as I dove down towards the raging river below. I flew, I really did! And it was exactly like I always dreamed it would be, gaining speed while I plummeted and wind whipping everywhere. Too bad it lasted less than a second and then the bungee reached the end and I swung back and forth under the bridge until someone threw me a rope and reeled me in. The sensation was quite a bit different than skydiving was, probably because I was jumping all by myself and had no lovely parachute to save me. In the end, I was still in one piece with no aches whatsoever. Not gonna lie, the Leap of Faith at camp is never going to be the same. Psh, who am I kidding? I'll still shake like it's nobody's business. I’m so thankful I didn’t let my conscious talk me out of this adventure as it was DEFINITELY AMAZING. If you’re looking for some super cheap and incredible outdoor adventures, Ecuador is where it’s at.

Brown Water Rafting

2008-03-27T11:41:00.000-07:00

The next morning we woke up and could barely move. So we decided to keep a low profile for the day and waddled around Baños and visited the zoo. Lame-o, most definitely. To be honest, it was so nice to be in a touristy town where you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Saturday morning we went white water rafting (more like brown water) with some guys from Guayaquil, a town on the coast. During the mandatory safety discussion I was so THANKFUL that I’d gone rafting before and therefore had somewhat of an idea of what the guide was probably explaining to us. When I went rafting in Canada last year my goal was, you know, to stay in the raft. Seemed logical. However, this was TOTALLY not the mentality of our guide as we partook in what I perceived to be the most risky rafting behavior ever. Our raft would purposely aim for the largest rocks in the river and at one point, when the river was somewhat tranquil (a rare occasion), our guide commanded us to stand up on the raft. And I don’t mean stand up on the inside of the raft. Oh no. We were most definitely standing on the outside of the raft while we cruised down the river. Somehow I managed to stay on board; but oh man, if I even began to tip I would grab on to someone so we would have capsized together. Later on our guide commanded us all to move to the right side of the raft and we tipped over and floated through some low-key rapids. At one point I was totally concentrating on rowing with my team when I was kidnapped by another raft and held hostage until they literally threw me overboard. Needless to say, the whole adventure was an absolute BLAST!

Not to mention, we got to practice our Spanish. At first we girls were like, there’s no WAY those guys are from Ecuador because they were super tall and light skinned. But indeed they were all from Guayaquil and they were studying to be lawyers and businessmen. It was so refreshing to be around the opposite sex without having to worry about them whistling at you. It was pretty funny conversing with them because they wanted to practice their English. So we’d talk to them in Spanish and they’d talk to us in English. They were around 23-years-old and all eight of them have been friends since kindergarten. I’ve found that life long friends is definitely a common trend here. People are born, raised, and die in the same place. It was super interesting talking to these guys because they came right out and admitted that a lot of discrimination exists between the coast and the highlands. For as small as Ecuador is (about the size of Colorado) there truly is a lot of hostility, especially between the three main cities, Guayaquil, Quito, and Cuenca. This really surprised me at first because I thought Ecuador would be a tight-knit country due to it’s small size. But the guys explained that they generally don’t get along with people from the highlands because there’s “too much history”. I wasn’t going to take that for an answer and asked why they couldn’t be the generation to change things. They just shrugged it off and once again said, “There’s too much history” and that I wouldn’t understand. Most unfortunate. When I got home I told host mom that I’d hung out with some nice guys from Guayaquil just to see her reaction. She was like “Oh! You hung out with monos (monkeys)!” People from the highlands refer to people who live on the coast as monkeys and my host family even calls Amelia (who lives in Guayaquil) a monkey. Although in her case it’s obviously a term of endearment. Apparently people from the highlands think those on the coast are super lazy and that all they want to do is party. It's been super interesting to be an outsider looking into this culture.

Easter Procession

2008-03-26T12:39:00.000-07:00

Hope everyone had a Joyous Easter! Mine was packed full of extreme adventure. I chose to leave Cuenca for our three-day holiday; so unfortunately, I can't share too much about what went on locally. I do know that on Thursday night host mom participated in a procession that stopped at seven different churches to symbolize Christ's walk to Calvary. At each church they visited two stations of the cross. On Friday the family ate Fanesca, some sort of fish soup that is a traditional Easter meal. They were kind enough to save some for me and I will be trying it this weekend (along with Chancho, a little pig). There is no such thing as the Easter bunny down here and I definitely felt silly explaining how a bunny used to leave me chocolate outside my bedroom door.

After classes on Thursday, three students and I embarked on a seven-hour bus journey up North to Baños de Ambato. We'd heard that the road between Ambato and Baños would be closed for an annual pilgrimage that started at 7 pm. At first we were somewhat bummed and then it dawned on us that we could join the pilgrimage! After all, it was only supposed to be four hours long and since we've done some pretty intense hiking in the Andes, we figured it was nothing that we couldn't handle. Not to mention, this pilgrimage didn’t seem to be as intense as the one in Quito, where individuals whip themselves on the back while they walk. When the bus made it to Amabato and we saw a throng of people stretching down the street, we knew it was our cue to get out and begin the experience of a lifetime. Since this was a religious procession, I had visions of people marching with crosses and figurines of Jesus with mourning music in the background. This may have been so in the front, but we were 1 1/2 hour behind. There were no crosses or sad music, but boys carrying boom boxes blasting some upbeat music that definitely kept you moving and there were loads of vendors along the sides of the road. It was all we could do to keep up with the locals, as they were speed demons! Most of the group was around my age and younger. We saw throngs of kids who didn't appear to have any supervision whatsoever. The walk was mainly downhill, and lit with street lamps when we passed through small towns and a full moon that helped silhouette the Volcano, which was inactive this time. It was pretty incredible to soak it all in as you choked up the dust from all of the movement.

Unfortunately, we didn't get the chance to talk to too many people because they were seriously that much faster than us and it was all we could do to not lose each other in the throng of thousands. But after a while the excitement of the first few hours disappeared and we got tired... and then sore joints and shin splints consumed our thoughts ... and we became pretty cranky. When four hours rolled around my feet were on fire, back was aching from carrying my heavy backpack, and my legs were suffering from the constant pounding of walking downhill on concrete. It’s incredible how easy it is to complain. The walk definitely provided me with a lot of think time and I realized how I just THOUGHT I was experiencing pain. When compared to Christ’s walk to Calvary… I quickly shut up and tried to focus on how good I had it. It wasn’t raining. For once my stomach was in excellent shape. I still had pure water to drink. I was blown away by all of the little kids who kept racing past me. How in the world did they do it?! Did people really do this more than once in their life?! Crazies! I definitely had a lot of respect for them. When we came upon the final mountain ridge I saw a golden cross shining at the top of some far off mountain. If that was the endpoint, there was no way I was going to make it and I was about ready to call it quits and camp on the side of the road. When we finally arrived in Baños, we discovered that the town was wide-awake and that the streets were full of people settling down for a couple hours of rest on the sidewalks. I wish I could report that we followed the procession all the way to the church in Baños, but we were so dog-tired that we were more than ready to retire. When we finally found our hostel, it was
3:30 in the morning. We had walked over 25 miles in seven hours, and our bloody and blistered feet were ready to be done.

Case of the Cold Shower

2008-03-19T08:18:00.000-07:00

Showering here in Cuenca can be pretty tricky. Some people have electric showers and you have to flip a switch in the shower area to get warm water. I got to do this in Guatemala last spring break and quickly discovered that if you’re not careful, you will electrocute yourself. My host family heats their water with gas. During my second week here I discovered that our gas box is located outside of our house. Some families have their gas boxes inside the house, which is a pretty scary deal when you think about poisoning. Anyway, I was glad my family’s was located outside. However, that means that the little gas flame falls victim quite often to the wind and the rain; and therefore, tends to go out pretty easily. Thus, no cold water. At first host mom told me to come and get her whenever I had cold water and then she would go check the flame. However, I was not a fan of this plan because it entailed waking her up in the morning and I did not want to do that. Showering at night has proven to be about 95% more likely to produce warm water. Sweet deal.

It certainly took a while, but I have the system figured out now. First, one must run the hot water in the sink and wait for it to heat up. Thankfully, this only takes about two minutes (much faster than the shower) and then you turn on the shower and quickly make the most of your two minutes of super warm water before it suddenly turns chilly once again.

However, there are other variables that affect whether or not one will take a warm shower. For instance, due to the intense amount of rain, mudslides have wiped out many roads, which sometimes makes it impossible for gas to make it from the coast to Cuenca. Apparently the town is suffering from quite the gas shortage. However, this really only affected my family about two different times. My solution was to do a few crunches before showering so I could get super warm before facing the freezing cold water. It served as a pretty good incentive to get back into shape too. Whatever the case, warm (if not hot) showers are definitely the norm now, and not the exception. It’s AMAZING how much delight a warm shower provides.

Bus Bathrooms

2008-03-18T08:08:00.000-07:00

Traveling long distances on public buses provides for some pretty interesting experiences. But the one I want to focus on today is the bathroom. When we traveled to Vilcabamba I sat in the very front of the bus. Four hours into the seven hour trip, I woke from my drugged Dramamine state (the only way to go in the winding mountains) and realized I’d be doomed if I didn’t relieve myself asap. Thank heavens the bus had a bathroom. Also, the woman sitting next to me was super kind, and because I really didn’t want to drag all of my stuff to the back of the bus into the bathroom with me, I convinced myself that I felt safe leaving everything with her (always a gamble, and one that I probably shouldn’t have made, but I lucked out). I asked her if I’d have to pay to use the restroom and she told me that all I had to do was get the keys from the front. Somehow the man who sits in the front (not the bus driver, but the man who collects the fare) managed to drop the keys on the dashboard and they slid around for a while before he finally retrieved them. Finally, I began the long and dangerous trip to the back of the bus. The aisle was jam packed full of people, some standing, some sitting, and really little kids sprawled out on the floor. Due to the ridiculous mudslides, the roads were in horrendous shape and we were bouncing around everywhere.

I finally made it to the back (without smashing anyone on the ground or launching myself into anyone sitting) only to discover one heck of a nasty bathroom. So I took a deep breath, entered, and quickly realized that the view outside was quite lovely and that everything and everybody that I could see in the countryside could see me as well. GULP. Also, remember the potholes and bouncing around everywhere? Thankfully, there were even handlebars so you could hold on for dear life while praying that you wouldn’t actually touch the toilet seat or somehow bounce right out of the bathroom. Just for the record, if you ever travel to Latin America, make sure you bring your own toilet paper, as it is a very rare occasion to come across some in a restroom. And for that matter, hand sanitizer will come in quite handy as well. Yeah, it’s definitely gross to think about how many people don’t wash their hands… so you try not to focus on that too much. Fortunately, I’m always prepared. Thankfully, that was the only trip I had to make to the back of the bus because obviously this is an experience you choose to partake in only if you ABSOLUTELY have to. As well as training my stomach, I'm now training my bladder as well.

To Market to Market

2008-03-17T08:19:00.000-07:00

This was a pretty low-key wkd. Saturday morning I made Russian empanadas at a friend’s house and that night we went to another friend’s to celebrate her boyfriend’s birthday. He had just flown in from the states and her host family offered to throw him a surprise party. We celebrated the old-fashioned way with pizza and cake. Of course, no Ecuadorian party would be complete without dancing. I’m pretty sure I give off some anti-dancing aroma so I’m always amazed when I’m literally dragged out on the dance floor no matter how much I protest. People are just that bound and determined to make sure I discover the joy of dancing. This is really sweet of them and they always have lots of patience, but most definitely a lost cause when it comes to me. This time it was some host cousin that wouldn’t take no for answer. Unfortunately, instead of joining us on the dance floor, my friends preferred to remain sitting on the sidelines where they laughingly enjoyed every moment of my pathetic dance moves.

I really wish we could have hung around Cuenca for Palm Sunday; but alas, we had another mini-trip to take. The street outside of the main cathedral in town was lined with people selling the most beautiful braided palms. Unfortunately, most of these palms are from the Orient, where countless trees are destroyed just for Palm Sunday. Host mom explained how this year was the first year that many churches prohibited their parishioners from purchasing these elaborate palms. Kudos to them.

We first took off for Gualeceo where we visited the local indoor and outdoor markets where you could buy woven and embroidered goods, fruits, veggies, spices, meat, etc. The fresh fruit here is incredible and so much tastier than the stuff back home. Just make sure you wash it first, otherwise you’ll be logging in a lot of bathroom time and wishing you’d never laid eyes upon it. Moving on. This town was full of indigenous folks in their traditional clothing (big colorful skirts, white blouses for the women, and white hats). The highlight had to be seeing guinea pigs roasting just outside of the market, face and all. Definitely not a sight that leaves your mouth watering and your tummy saying, “Get me some of that.” No way. No, I have not tried it yet; my stomach is still in training and I’m thinking guinea pig will be the pinnacle of my Ecuadorian food experience. Give it another month. We then continued to Chordeleg, which is known for its jewelry and handicrafts. I found some more beautiful hammocks. This is turning into quite the outrageous obsession…

John Wayne Style

2008-03-11T08:11:00.000-07:00

I’m not sure how much coverage it actually got in the states or how it may have been twisted to fit Bush’s wipe out the terrorists agenda, but two weekends ago Colombian troops entered Ecuador and killed the Farc rebel leader. Ecuador and Venezuela immediately sent troops up to secure their borders and the Embassy advised Americans to keep a low profile. While the rest of Latin America backed up Ecuador, good old Bush backed up Columbia. Nobody around Cuenca seemed to be too upset and now that all three presidents had their pictures taken giving each other hugs everything is apparently back in order. How did this affect me? Well… this past Thursday we were supposed to head to the jungle for Spring break and decided to postpone the trip. At the last minute some of us got on a bus and traveled seven hours south to Vilcabamba, which has easily been the most picturesque place in Ecuador I have seen yet. While there I experienced one of the most thrilling adventures of my life: riding a horse in the Andes Mountains for six hours.

Way back in fifth grade I made one small (and guided) loop on a horse at Camp Wapsie. Somehow, within the past ten years the opportunity to ride a horse never presented itself and I had to travel all the way to Ecuador to do so. Keep in mind, I have ABSOLUTELY no idea what I’m doing when it comes to horses; so the only way I can properly share this experience with you is if I let you take a peek into my thought process....

Hmmm… How am I supposed to get on this thing? You know, I think I would have preferred a more long-term game plan for this big event. Something like… Day one: look at horse. Day two: touch horse. Day three: put saddle on horse. Day four: get on horse… maybe. Wow, I’m actually on the horse. “Do you have any hints? Anyone?” No reply. Someone slaps the horse’s butt and off we go.

Hey. This isn’t so bad. I can do this. Wait. No one’s in front of me and there are five horses and riders behind me. Story of my life, always holding up traffic. Shoot! Sorry friends.
Horse stops. ”Come on Kate, show it who’s boss!”
“Right. Yes. Exactly.” How do I do that?
So I squeeze the horse with my feet. Jingle the reigns. Ask it to please move forward. Wait, you’re talking to it in English. Bet he doesn’t understand English; better try Spanish instead. Crap, that’s not working either. Horse language? The guide keeps whistling. Yeah, try that! Man, I can’t believe I don’t know how to whistle! Still no movement. Goodness gracious this is embarrassing. Guide jumps off his horse, runs up to me and gives the horse another slap on the rear and off we go again.
Encounter very large precipice. Oh dear. There’s no way we’re going to make it up that. How in the world? Maybe I should get off. Wait, how do I do that? Yikes! Hold on for dear life we are actually attempting to go up this impossible precipice! Woah! We made it! And I’m still on the horse. Heck yes! I can do this!

Horse leaves trail and stops, obviously forfeiting her leadership position to become a follower. That’s cool; I’m down with being a follower. The guide keeps saying “Pasa!” I’ll add that to my useful vocab. “Pasa, caballo!” We somehow end up behind Gaseous Gandolph. Dang it, "pasa" does not mean pass gas, it means keep moving! Crazy horses.

Maybe I should grip the reigns more firmly. I mean, obviously maintain all of this slack but perhaps I’ll trick the horse into thinking I really know what I’m doing. Right, that’s the key! You’re supposed to develop a good relationship with your horse, right? Man, I’m failing miserably; her ears are practically straight back. Maybe I should give her a name. Why didn’t I ask what her name was? Izzy, that’s it. I’ll call her Izzy because we are going every Izzy Willy Nilly way except the right one. That is, when we’re actually moving. No, no, No! Get away from the barb wired fence! Whew, that was close. And the tree! Yes, that will be black and blue tomorrow. No worries, you’re still on the horse!

“Is anyone else’s horse breathing really hard?” Chorus of “No’s.” Dang it. This horse isn’t big enough for me! She’s used to small Latino men and women and because I’m the shortest in the group, she got stuck with me! She sure is making me feel like a real fatso. What happens if she dies on this trek? Oh dear. What if I die too? At least then I won’t have to live with the guilt of killing her. Negative thinking get out! Only positive thoughts!

I am officially in the back of the group. What if I get left behind? Oh great, now there are five men hiking behind me and they are moving faster than me. Why don’t they just pass us? We are slowing them down so much… Horse, please keep moving forward, and don’t embarrass me in front of these guys. I’m trying to converse with you in horse language and these kissing sounds I have to make to keep you moving are really getting old. Ok, they’re still behind us. You can’t ignore them forever. Build up the courage to say something… Horse totally farts in their faces. Oh man! Well, here we go. “Sorry about that. That’s our acceleration.” HAHAHA! How lame! And in Spanish! Who knows what you actually said?! But they are kind and reply. They are French men. I attempt to carry on a conversation with them in Spanish until a bush almost sideswipes me off my saddle and I decide to stay focused on where my horse is taking me.

Lunch break. Oh my goodness. I don't think I can walk. Time to get back on horses. Already? Crap! Which one’s mine? Really Kate? You can’t even remember if your horse had a white mark on her head? You’re pathetic. Just wait for everyone else to get on their horse first. Yeah, great plan! Successfully mount horse.
“What is going on here? What are we doing? I think my horse is trying to sit down! Help! Someone?” Dear God, it’s actually going to buck me off.
“Kate, horses can’t sit.”
“Oh yeah, right.”
“But yeah, it does look like its legs are giving out or something.”
“WHAT?! Its legs are giving out?! I’m too big for my horse! How are we ever going to make it back?”

Alright. Project develop a better relationship. Step one: what’s my horse’s real name?
“Whisky? And it’s a guy?” No wonder we weren’t doing so well! Poor thing!
Wow. That waterfall is amazing! And that canyon. Dang, one misstep and we could totally plummet down forever. AGH! Is that erosion on the path?! Whiskey, PLEASE don't step there. Open your eyes Kate, goodness gracious. Have a little faith.

We take off galloping. WOOHOO! Heck yes this is so much fun! I feel like John Wayne. Who are you kidding? You've never even seen a John Wayne movie. Wait, why are we still galloping? There are boulders in this path! How do you stop this thing? Pull on the reigns! What in the world provoked that?
“Kate, my horse just bit your horse’s butt.”
“WHAT?! Melissa, tell your horse not to bite my horse’s butt!” I’m going to die.

Then I decide goading might work well. “Pretty Whiskey.” Shoot, you’re a male! “Handsome Whisky.” “Big Whisky. Strong Whisky.” Whiskey shakes his head in a nod. Hmmm… I wonder what that means. I’ll just pretend like he’s replying “Of course, Kate!”

Shlop, shlop, shlop. Man, I'm so glad you’re walking through this muck and not me. If I were you, I’d probably buck me off into this mud. “What, I have to get off the horse? This incline is too slippery?” Ok, I guess. Shlop, shlop, shlop. Nasty. Poor tennies.

Treacherous river crossing: horses cross on their own. And we… cross on that really slippery tree that’s fallen across the rushing river? No way! Too cool! Wow. Mission accomplished. Wait… where are the horses? Fifteen minutes later… the guide has found them. Smart horses, I would have run away too. Whiskey probably led the charge up the mountain. Man, he REALLY doesn't like me.

Holy cow, I'm REALLY riding a horse through the Andes Mountains. This is nuts!

Really, this was quite an intense experience. I generally like to feel in control, and I totally did not feel in control on top of that horse. However, it was comforting to know that Whiskey obviously had an instinct to take care of himself as well, whether or not he cared what happened to me. So wait, does this make me an experienced rider now? Oh dear. I hope not because I still know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about horses.

Religion

2008-03-10T13:34:00.000-07:00

Like I said before, 95% of Cuencanos are Catholic, including my host family. Religion is definitely a big part of this community and oftentimes while walking on the streets, I’ll notice individuals cross themselves whenever they pass a cathedral. Also, from my second floor room I can see that several houses in my neighborhood have crosses adorning their rooftops. In my house, there are countless images in almost every room of the most caucasian looking Virgin Mary and Jesus that I have ever seen in my entire life. Host mom even has an entire shrine dedicated to Mary and Jesus in her bedroom. I totally lucked out with the gift I gave her when I first arrived. It was an angel, and she couldn’t stop exclaiming over it and she explained that she goes to church every single day to light a candle and pray that angels will watch over every member of her family. She also said that she prays for my studies and whenever I leave the house, she prays that God goes with me. What a cool feeling when someone tells you they're praying for you in your everyday, ordinary life.

When dinner finished the other night, she crossed herself real slowly. She noticed that her 12-yr-old granddaughter did not cross herself and she asked her why she didn’t and commented “How ugly.” The granddaughter, Emily, explained that she doesn't cross herself because isn’t Catholic (she’s non-denominational) and host mom replied, “Well you’re Christian, aren’t you?” She proceeded to ask me if Lutherans cross themselves in the states and I explained that while it was definitely a Catholic practice, you usually don't catch too many Lutherans crossing themselves, at least where I come from. Then the three of us sat around and talked about prayer for awhile. More like, host mom talked and Amelia and I listened attentively. She talked about the importance of thanking God for all of his many blessings and how one really shouldn’t ask God for things but ask that His will be done no matter what. I was a big fan of what she had to say and thought how awesome it was that she could have this conversation with her granddaughter and that Emily was definitely intrigued by what her grandma had to say. When host mom speaks about her prayer life and what an honor it is for her to be in the Lord’s presence, her face just radiates and her passion definitely overflows. It’s pretty cool.

I also had a pretty comical conversation with Leo. She asked if Lutherans believed in God and I almost burst out laughing before explaining that of course we do. I then tried to describe the major differences between Catholicism and Lutheranism. However, Mother Mary is extremely important to this woman and Leo just can’t seem to understand why Lutherans don’t pray to her.

I had yet another interesting conversation with one of the elderly nuns that helps run the orphanage. I think this woman was first appalled when she realized I wasn’t Catholic and then when I tried to… I don’t know, make up for it… by reminding her that the Lutheran church was started by a Catholic man, she was totally unimpressed and said that Martin Luther was a bad man because he didn’t obey the pope (Papa). I briefly tried to defend Martin Luther but didn’t want things to turn too sour so I smiled and gave up. At least she let’s this sinner hang out with her kids.

Scotcheroos!

2008-03-04T05:18:00.000-08:00

• Azucar (sugar) …… ……………………………...........…$0.64
• Miel de Maiz (corn syrup)…………………........…….…$2.30
• Crema de Mani (JIF peanut butter)..……….…........….$4.38
• Arroz Crocante (Rice Krispies)…………………........…$1.56
• Chocolate………………………....................................$2.40
• Bag of Peanut M&M’s... (didn’t buy these)............….$9.52
• Butterscotch chips (MIA in Cuenca)…………......................
• Getting my name in the Family’s cookbook.............I’ll spare you

I like to bake, especially when I’m stressed. And since this is finals week, I was anticipating stress (it never came) and the perfect remedy is obviously peanut butter and chocolate. So Friday night before the sun set I explored a new part of town while looking for a Supermaxi, Cuenca’s modern day grocery store. Upon entering the store I had to hand over my backpack to security and they guarded it for me while I shopped. Then I discovered how such a small chore like shopping can turn into a big triumph when in a foreign country. The layout of the store was much like a Fareway at home; however, I of course was still confused and made many circles with my cart. For the life of me I couldn’t find anything resembling chocolate chips and when I finally gave in and asked an employee, he directed me to these ridiculously small chocolate pebbles. Ummm… no.

The next morning after wandering around the Otavalan market in Cuenca (where I somehow managed to walk away with two unpurchased hammocks before the poor girl came chasing after me… I was SO horrified and apologized PROFUSELY. WHAT has gotten into me… Scatterbrained…the girl had just handed over the hammocks and somehow I completely forgot that the payment transaction had never taken place…), host mom drove a few of my CEDEI friends and me to a small little shop that sold corn syrup and delicious chocolate! Score! Upon returning I realized that host mom, Leo (I think she was nervous I was going to burn down her kitchen, which didn’t happen, just a pot or two…), and Amelia (who now wants to be called Emily?) were super interested in what we were about to attempt and so they hung around the kitchen, peering over our shoulders as we prepared the oh so incredibly difficult scotcheroos. Now usually baking is a way I relieve stress. Me. By myself. Relieving stress. So first off, inviting my friends over to participate was a big step. And then having another three people under foot… Dag yo. Not to mention, host mom likes everything to be just perfect and so her presence alone was pretty intimidating and almost enough to make a person go bonkers.

But we pulled through, and when we were done my host family was so impressed that host mom immediately pulled out her recipe book and totally entered Kate Gringita with the Scotcheroo recipe underneath. WOOHOO! My friends also took some home to their families and now they all think we’re the most marvelous cooks ever. If only they really knew. But now more families have been blessed with the wonderfulness that is scotcheroos. HOORAY! Host Dad enjoyed them so much that he asked me if I could make them again and promised that he would buy the ingredients for me. Good deal. Next up, high altitude chocolate chip cookies. Emily and I are going to give it a go one of these days.

Beautiful Souls at Miguel Leon

2008-03-03T09:11:00.000-08:00

This past semester I took a service learning course and was super blessed with the opportunity to hang out at Miguel Leon, an orphanage run by nuns (who really do wear habits). I have always had this crazy, naive, and romantized dream about one day working in an orphanage and so it’s been eye opening and grounding to see one actually in action. Before, whenever I thought of orphans, I pictured forlorn children, starving for affection. However, when I’m around these girls, they are usually anything BUT forlorn and I never could have imagined how much love they could abundantly shower upon me. Most of these girls have pretty rough backgrounds as many have been abused. Also, many are in fact not orphans, but their parents can’t afford to take care of them. Therefore, sometimes the parents will visit on the weekends. One time I was reading with two girls when their mom showed up. It was really interesting and somewhat sad to watch the girls’ reactions because they didn’t seem super elated when they saw their mom and didn’t get up to hug her or anything. Instead, they got really shy. Also, there’s even a story going around that a few of the girls are actually princesses in a jungle tribe; but their father, who is the tribe’s leader, doesn’t want his girls to be married off at the customary age of twelve. Who knows?

There about thirty girls at Miguel Leon. They each share a room with about eight other girls. They wake up at 5 in the morning, have breakfast (bread and fruit) and go to classes at various schools in Cuenca during the mornings. They return to Miguel Leon and have lunch, and then go to classrooms at the orphanage where they work on homework until about 5:30 while under the supervision of someone (not a nun) who comes in to help the girls with their homework. I come to Miguel Leon in the afternoons and primarily help the ten-year-old girls with their English homework, especially the oh so fun verb “to be.” We write countless sentences: “Gloria is talking. Germania is playing. Kate is flying.” I also brought some English books from home and occasionally I will read one to a couple of the girls. Only since their English is not too advanced, this involves me trying my best to translate. But they are always super patient with me and just LOVE listening to the story of Cinderella. Unfortunately, I’m really only helpful when it comes to English. One day a girl needed help with math, and while that lovely subject is FAR from my favorite, I was like, ok, yeah, I can do this fifth grade math. Thinking you know, that the beauty of math is that it’s a universal language. Boy was I wrong. This girl was working on long division and Cuencanos have got the CRAZIEST way of doing long division ever. I just stared while the girl went through the steps and continued to have absolutely no idea what she was doing... When supervised homework time is over the girls have dinner, maybe watch a movie, and then head to bed before eight. Every Saturday and Sunday morning they walk to church where they attend mass and first communion classes. When they turn eighteen, they leave Miguel Leon and enter the real world. Some go back home to live with their parents, some get married, and some start working. I can’t help but wonder what this transition is like for them.

One thing I’ve been super impressed by is the sense of community these girls have at the orphanage. They function just like a team and everyone appears to have a special niche and definitely has to carry her own weight. Every Friday the girls hand wash all of their dirty clothes. Have you ever hand washed clothes before? I’ve hand washed stains and such before, but never entire articles of clothing at one time. I've now got to spend two different Fridays hand washing clothes. It is tough work and one’s hands definitely get beaten up and scraped raw. But these girls scrub away for hours and make everything clean without even complaining. It’s ridiculous. But they do it because it they don't, they're not going to have clean clothers. The other day they asked me if I wash my clothes and I was embarrassed to admit that Leo the maid washes my clothes (by hand). The girls also set their own tables for meals and clean up after themselves. I had to wonder what sort of values these girls will form and how those values differ from other Ecuadorians’. From what I can tell so far, based upon my family and others, moms really pamper their children and the kids hardly appear to have any responsibilities whatsoever. Yes, the girls at Miguel Leon have the nuns; but ultimately, they really have to look out for themselves and each other. They are super independent and know how to work hard.

They have the best personalities too. There’s Gloria, who always has the most mischievous grin ever. When she gets frustrated with her homework she just grabs her hair and shakes her head really fast. Then there’s Germania, who is so determined to learn English and constantly asks me to quiz her on her vocab. Carolina is quiet and moody but every once in awhile she’ll sneak in a smile. These girls are OBSESSED with High School Musical and listen to the soundtrack every day while doing homework.

This past Saturday my fellow volunteers (Alison and Tim) and I made Scotcheroos and went to the orphanage to watch the Lizzie McGuire movie with the girls. Only before we could do anything, they took us up to their rooms, which the Head Mother said they had to clean before we could watch the movie. Their rooms contained beds that were lined up against one wall (just like I’d pictured from the movies) and covered with stuffed animals. Every girl also had a wardrobe. While some of us were making beds and sweeping,the girls went running around capturing pictures of the craziest things! The Scotcheroos were totally a hit and we're excited to spend another Saturday afternoon with them (Hopefully the next one won't be spent in front of the tv). These girls really are wonderful and bring so much joy to my days. It will be tough to say goodbye in a few months.

Peek at Economy... and then some

2008-02-27T04:59:00.000-08:00

Formal Jobs:
• 40 hours/week
• Salary around $170/month
• Domestic services salary around $150/month
• Social security JUST for the individual working
• Three bonuses: April ($140), September ($140), December ($340)
• 15 vacation days
• Maternity leave: three months, followed by six months working 6 hours/day
• The most sought after jobs are those working for the government as there are many benefits and an individual can’t be fired.

Informal Jobs:
• The majority of Cuencanos: taxi drivers, vendors, hairdressers, little shops
• No social security or other benefits
• Must go to private clinics, which cost more money

Other tidbits:
• Minimum wage: $170/month
• Teacher: $350/month
• Bank employee: $400/month
• Nurse: $600/month
• University Professor: $700/month
• Neurosurgeon: $8,000/month

Unfortunately, there is a lot of job discrimination down here as well. For example (all facts shared by prof), when women go in for job interviews employers can ask them to take a pregnancy test because they don’t want to have to deal with maternity leave. Therefore, single women are usually preferred. It’s also very difficult for anyone who is Indigenous, Black, or non-Catholic to get a good job. Apparently it really doesn’t matter how much education an individual has had, but more what you like and what you believe. Most Black people are either police men, security guards, or athletes. Only get this… of course… when a Black individual is an amazing athlete, all of a sudden his skin color doesn’t seem to matter anymore and he is a celebrity. I find it intriguing that my host brother claims Black people are lazy when it appears super difficult for them to land decent paying jobs in the first place due to discrimination. Catch 22.

Ecuador’s President Correa, while certainly not loved by all, has certainly done some notable things within his one year in office. For example, all children under six years now have access to free medicine. Also, pregnant women can give birth for free. Way cool. Canada is also currently helping Ecuador fight tuberculosis through a program that allows those who are infected to get drugs for free. Yeah, Canada!

Finally, the justice system is quite different than the one we’re accustomed to in the states. For starters, lawyers are dirt poor and really only work with wills, arguments over land, and the occasional divorce. When it comes to public court… there isn’t one. There is only a judge, and no jury. Therefore, a drug traffiker can bribe the judge and get out scott free. Corruption!

Stereotypes

2008-02-26T04:59:00.001-08:00

Before coming to Ecuador, I heard various stereotypes about Latin Americans:
• “Latin Americans can dance really well, especially when it comes to Salsa.” What I’ve noticed: Eh, some can dance really well, some can’t. But heck yes, music (whether it’s Salsa, Discotecas, Andean tunes, or regular old Pop) is definitely a big part of the Cuenca culture.
• “Siesta time? They are so lazy.” What I’ve noticed: I would beg to differ. People certainly put in long hard days of work and sometimes host dad doesn’t even make it home until around 8 pm.
• “Ecuadorians are poor.” What I’ve noticed: Just like practically everywhere in this world, there are “haves” and “have nots.” Unfortunately, the gap keeps growing even wider.

What my profs tell me Latin Americans think about people from the US:
• “Latin American men think American women are easy.” What I’ve noticed: Unfortunately, whenever this one proves true, it makes a girl feel like every man on the street feels the same way. But yeah, during our group orientation we heard that thanks to Hollywood, many men down here think that white women are indeed easy. This helps explain catcalls, kissing sounds, and the ever popular honk of the horn. I will admit, it has affected my interactions with men on the street. It’s pretty sad when one thinks twice about whether or not she should smile at someone she’s passing. But it’s the truth. But really, it’s not that big of a deal and you definitely learn to tune certain undesirable things out.
• “Americans are fat.”
• “Americans like President Bush” That’s unfortunate. I was quick to clear that up with my host family.
• “Americans are rich.” This must explain why people can afford to visit, or you know… study abroad.

Cajas and a day with the Fam

2008-02-25T06:03:00.000-08:00

Saturday morning we went hiking in Cajas National Park, easily our most beautiful adventure yet. We’d been planning on camping there but since the rainy season showed up two months early and all of Ecuador is in a state of emergency, our guide called it off. The hike was full of beautiful lakes and a forest filled with the most ridiculous looking trees that looked like they were straight out of a fairy tale story. We were on the verge of making it through our first weekend hike without rain when the heavens opened up on our last half hour and drenched us. We were all super thankful at that point that we weren’t spending the night, as fires are banned within the park and we probably would have frozen to death. No joke.

This was the first Sunday I got to spend in Cuenca and I was anxious to go to church. I showed the taxicab the exact address of a particular church, and while he immediately shook his head in recognition, unfortunately, he was unable to find it. So my friend and I got out and walked around. For some reason or another, the numbering of houses makes absolutely no sense at all and this journey was no treat. Yet somehow, we made it to church, a good half an hour late, just in time to pass the peace. You’ll never guess what passing the peace involves! Heck yes! More cheek kissing. This particular church was non-denominational (95% of Cuencanos are Catholic) and the building was huge. Instead of pews, we sat in plastic garden chairs. While we received a bulletin, this was just full of announcements. There were no books because everything the congregation needed was projected up on a screen. There was a guest speaker that morning from New England and he couldn’t speak Spanish so there was an interpreter. Unfortunately, I had to duck out early because my family needed me at home. So I don’t know if there was any liturgy, and what that looked like. However, it was nice to be part of a worshipping community once again.

In the afternoon my family went to the 34-yr-old brother’s house for ceviche (marinated seafood), my FAVORITE Ecuadorian dish so far, especially since it appears to agree with my stomach. His wife served us the entire time and only sat down to eat at the very end. Also, when we were done eating, the women washed all of the dishes and took care of cleaning up while all of the men remained seated at the table. Ugh. Only too familiar. Kudos to all of the men out there who break that stereotypical pattern. I appreciate you. Later, we all went upstairs to the master bedroom where host mom, dad, 34 and 28-yr-old brothers stretched out on the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, to watch the Cuenca-Barcelona soccer game on tv. I did not feel like getting super cozy with the fam so I chose a spot on the couch, where I immediately fell asleep. Unfortunately, soccer seems to have this effect on me. It still boggles my mind to witness how affectionate my family is with one another. For example, I noticed that throughout the entire game, my brother held his mom’s hand.

Later still, we met host dad’s relatives and walked around the mall with them for hours. The mall was pretty big and super fancy and artsy. There were the typical fountains and then there was a statue of Caeser. This particular mall wasn’t too Americanized and I only saw two places I was familiar with, Payless Shoes and Kentucky Fried Chicken. How I know my family has money… Host mom contemplated buying a vest made out of bunny fur for over two hundred dollars. Dag yo.

Saraguro

2008-02-19T05:03:00.000-08:00

In preparation for our weekend trip, this past Friday we had a discussion about Shamanism . During this discussion the leader went through some rituals with us and I was lucky enough to be an example for one of them. First the man told me to think about nothing. Then he took some flowers, had me spit in them, and beat my body with them. Up and down, my head all the way down to my feet and up again. Then he took an egg and moved it around my body as well (o_O). When he was done he had me blow on the egg four times and then broke it into a glass full of water. Apparently this was an ex-ray of my body. My egg was hovering towards the bottom of the glass and all of the white matter was concentrated around the middle of the egg. The man explained that this suggested something was wrong with my stomach and that I should drink some special kind of tea. Unfortunately, he was right about my tummy. Then he asked me if I was missing someone from home. I was like… well, yes, lots of people, but nothing that’s killing me. To be honest, I thought that was a pretty safe diagnosis on his part and wasn’t overly impressed by any means. Another girl went through the same ritual and some of her white matter strung to the top where there were a couple of bubbles. He diagnosed her as having a headache because of too much stress and an overactive nervous system. Interesting… Apparently if you are perfectly well (mind, body, spirit) the egg floats at the top without any suspicious white matter.

Saturday morning we took off in the gringo bubble bus for a good four and a half hour drive. The road was in ridiculous shape and the bus felt like a snake because it kept making drastic swerves to avoid cavernous potholes. Pretty intense. But it was a good time and we made it safely to Saraguro, the land of the corn. Saraguros have retained a great part of their heritage and many of them dress in black clothes. I asked our guide why this was and he explained that it was to retain heat to stay warm. However, my host father (and literature here and there) claims it’s because these people are still mourning the downfall of the Incan empire. Walking around town, we saw men with long, black ponytails and white hats. They were usually wearing black ponchos and knee-length black pants. The women had black skirts, shawls, and white hats as well. While these people have done a fabulous job of retaining their heritage, they are also becoming more modern. For example, we saw so many people riding on motorbikes! This sight was really quite a stitch as their ponchos would fly behind them as if they were Batman. Pretty cool. Alas, I took no photos as this tends to be super disrespectful. My apologies. I did see one other white couple in the town and was totally disgusted when I saw the woman ask a young girl in traditional clothes if she could take a picture of her. Afterwards, she gave the child a piece of candy. When we got back on the bus our guide told us to NEVER, ever do that.

Later that day our hike through the mountains was canceled because of too much rain, and while some people were taking siestas, our guide took a few of us on a tour around town. We went to the tail end of an indigenous wedding! We were super paranoid about going but the guide kept pushing us to and we decided to trust him as far as crossing lines go. The wedding did not take place in a church, but an open building, like a barn. It looked like the whole town had showed up to celebrate. The couple was BEAUTIFUL. The husband was dressed in pink and the wife had on a beautiful blue shawl and lots of flowers and decorations in her hair. It was so interesting to see these stereotypical color roles (US culture) reversed. Both were kneeling on the ground for what seemed like forever while members of their families individually came up to them to congratulate and bless them as well as give them advice. One woman told the bride that the groom loved music so if she could sing for him that would really make him happy. I thought it was much more personal than the line of people that newlyweds in the states have to greet and thank as fast as possible once the ceremony is dismissed. However, I would not be up for all of that kneeling.

Finally, Sunday morning we hiked up to a limestone overhang (reminded me of Bridal Falls at Pikes Peak Park on the Mississippi River) where we attended a Shaman ceremony. These rituals are usually done in caves because caves represent being closer to Mother Nature. The atmosphere was too perfect for this ceremony as there was a small waterfall flowing over the overhang and a much larger waterfall right next to us. There was a fire in a small pot that was burning leaves and incense. It was in the center of six decorated poles that marked the cardinal directions as well as NE and SW. A Saraguro man stood at each cardinal direction. We circled around them and faced each cardinal direction while one of the Saraguros blew a horn to give thanks to Mother Nature and for the many blessings she provides. The others made music with rattles and drums. Then we each drank (from a seashell) the most intense alcohol ever. My tongue went numb and I felt as if the alcohol was shooting out of every single pore in my body. It tasted like what I imagine soap detergent and another ridiculous mixture of chemicals would taste like. As much as I wanted to watch every one elses' reactions to consuming this nastiness, I decided this would be too dangerous and that I'd better keep my eyes closed so I wouldn't burst our laughing. Then one of the Saraguros blessed some herbal medicine water and went around the circle, misting it into everyone’s face. I was excited for the mist as I previously thought he’d be hocking a loogi in our faces. He was followed by a man who had picked up the center fire and was moving around the circle, blowing the smoke from the fire into our faces. This was fabulous because it dried up the mist on our faces super quick. And just like that, we were spiritually cleansed. It was a cool cultural experience and all, but I certainly didn’t feel anything except drowsy from the incense. The director claims she stole all of my positive energy vibes that I was supposed to have received. Darn it!

Raccoons, Bible Study, and El Día de Amor y Amistad

2008-02-15T10:08:00.000-08:00

The other night I got to spend 20 quality minutes with my host brother (unfortunately, a rare occasion) while we went to pick up a pizza at Pizza Hut. WOOHOO! Of all things, he couldn’t stop asking me questions about raccoons! Are they cute? Do people have them for pets? Do they snarl? It was an absolute riot. I asked him about discrimination in Ecuador and he said that Black people are even more discriminated against than indigenous people. Then he came right out and said Black people are lazy and that they don’t want to work (more about that later…). He was also super intrigued about Native Americans in the US and asked if they were all drunkards and whether or not they all lived on reservations. However, the one question I practically burst out laughing at… “What tribe lives in your city?” These questions really made me wonder how backwards my own impressions might be. No doubt, waaaaay off.

As we usually have trips every weekend, Sunday morning worship just isn’t that feasible. I’ve definitely been missing that community. However, the other night I attended a non-denominational Bible study with another student and her host sister. It took place at someone’s house and there were about twenty of us there. I think the kids’ ages ranged from about 16-22. After praying and singing two songs in Spanish (thank goodness I was behind the guitar player and could peak over his shoulder to see the words), the youth director started off with an activity to get our brains stimulated. Much to my surprise, it was “Johnny, Johnny!” This is a game I’ve played numerous times at camp but I will skip an intense and boring description of how to play and instead just spill the secret (shhhh!). The whole point of the activity is that you must end with your hands clasped on your lap. However, most people don’t catch that this is THE whole purpose of the game and they get super frustrated trying to figure out what other little details they need to change. I was pretty pumped to participate because when you're used to constantly feeling like the outsider who has no idea what's going on, it's that much sweeter when you're actually successful at something. Of course the youth director had to give everyone else crap because the gringa figured out the game before they did (I may or may not have failed to mention that I've played it before... woops!). But yeah, Bible study. Somehow, I understood at least 80% of what was said, which was super exciting. I never would have guessed how mentally exhausting it is to be immersed in a foreign language. Lots of times my brain just wants to float away. Unfortunately/luckily, understanding what was being said definitely didn’t mean I was capable of communicating any thoughts. But yeah… no new insights really. The youth director was pushing us to think about how we are called to live out our lives as Christians. The night definitely reminded me of high school and Unity of the Cross Bible studies where everyone would sit around awkwardly and stare at something that appeared to be super interesting in order to avoid answering any questions. Finally, this group definitely passed the test because when we were done, food appeared! Tuna sandwiches… Ecuador’s peanut butter. Yuck.

Valentine’s Day… Thankfully this holiday is not blown out of proportion like it is in the states. In fact, it wasn’t until this past Tuesday that venders suddenly popped up on the streets with all of their Valentine’s Day merchandise (somehow Simpsons stuffed dolls fall into this category?!). However, Ecuadorians do not waste a single minute of this day. At midnight I was awakened by a group of eight guys who were out on the street playing guitars and serenading my neighbor. So I spied on them for awhile at my window until I know they noticed my curtain moving. Twenty minutes later they were done and I drifted off to sleep thinking, awww… that’s so sweet. However, that was definitely NOT my thought when I was awakened again at two. This group of guys BLASTED their pop love songs from the radios in their cars. Apparentally this is quite the tradition and takes place all over town. Valentine’s Day itself was overflowing with flowers. I have never bought flowers on Valentine's Day, but figured I better not walk around town empty handed. So I picked some up for both host mom and Leo. Eight roses for two bucks. Not bad. My family said that mainly only youth and very, very, very old people celebrate this holiday and informed me that since they were somewhere in the middle, they don’t celebrate. Not gonna lie, I was definitely disappointed that we didn’t have any chocolate around the house. So please, don’t feel guilty about sneaking that extra piece; just say you’re doing it for me. ☺

Principal – Thank You for Nature

2008-02-12T05:08:00.000-08:00

The one thing I really enjoy about this program is that traveling on weekends counts as class credit. When I first read our semester schedule and noticed that something was planned for practically every weekend I was disappointed, assuming these excursions were mere field trips that would squash any attempt at independence. Turns out these “field trips” are certainly cool and the directors certainly don’t hold our hands every step of the way. In fact, they usually don’t accompany us. This past weekend we hopped on a bus, got dropped off in a small town where we found another bus to hop on, and got dropped off into an even tinier village called Principal. This city was full of countless dogs, chickens, dirt roads, and people who smiled back at you. It smelled like Iowa and I could see the stars at night. Needless to say, I definitely felt at home and found myself wishing I could remain there.

Saturday morning some local women demonstrated how they make Panama Hats. They are actually part of a project initiated by the Peace Corps to help insure that these workers get a just price for their goods. There are not many men in this community because they are working in the states (illegally). The women explained that while they began weaving around age six, the children today do not weave because their fathers are providing for them; and therefore, it’s not imperative that the children help support the family. The women also expressed their concern that this part of their culture will eventually die out. It was interesting talking to the current Peace Corps volunteer because she mentioned that what she is doing (helping to manage finances for the weavers) is totally not what she had in mind when she came. She was initially sent to help out with agriculture but said that the people in Ecuador are not starving, and because of this, they see no reason to change their agricultural ways. The whole idea of “helping” people when they don’t want or even need your “help”… This really demonstrated to me the importance of living within a community for quite some time in order to experience what needs the community has and how it wants to address them rather than swooping into a place thinking you know what’s best for a people you’ve never met before. I’m totally not slamming the volunteer, but perhaps I’ve put the Peace Corps on too high of a pedestal.

On Saturday we were supposed to work with the community on a community project but they had a town meeting, so we explored the countryside instead. Before we left the town we came across some adorable kids who were full of giggles and kept exclaiming “gringas!” We played hide-and-go-seek for awhile and shortly afterwards we came across a man, and after conversing for awhile he said, “Blah, blah, blah… US” and all six of us misinterpreted what he said and we enthusiastically declared “Yeah!” Luckily the Peace Corps volunteer showed up at this point and told us that the man had just asked us if we could help him get into the states. Shoot. Later we discovered a pretty sweet river, complete with massive rocks and a skinny, but tall waterfall! Woohoo! I went bouldering for the first time ever and man is that an exhilarating experience. Basically this involves clinging to rocks on the riverbank and inching your way along, searching for crevices to hold onto for dear life while praying that you won’t slip and smash your head on the rocks below. That night some local youth put on their traditional clothes and danced for us. Then they played music and laughed while we attempted to make use of our most recent dance lesson that involved spins. Oh dear.

Sunday was SUPER intense as we left at 8:30 to climb mountains with a local guide. The trail was incredibly muddy and I was definitely thankful for my galoshes as my tennies would have been sucked in by the crazy mixture of mud and cow pies forever. I was sure I was going to face plant it in some nastiness but somehow managed not to. It took us a good four hours to hike four miles. The guide said it usually takes him an hour and a half! We didn’t just pass through the mountains though. Heck no. We switch backed our way up those crazy high things. The ecosystems we walked through were ridiculously diverse. We traversed through cornfields, lush forests, cow pastures, spongy swamps, and cascades next to waterfalls. A few locals came cruising past us, carrying heavy odds and ends on their backs. At one point we came across a man who was loaded with several empty two liter Coke bottles. He was on his way up to milk his cow! I couldn’t imagine making that trek every single day to get some milk! Wow. When you think about how many calories he expended in the process of getting his milk… dag yo. I will never again complain about driving ten minutes into town to grab a gallon. After four hours we reached a cool looking lagoon. Unfortunately, at this point we were freezing and so we basically inhaled our lunch before turning around and heading back. Hiking downhill proved to be much more physically taxing, especially on the knees. However, it only took two hours to hike the remaining four miles. There were so many Wow moments where all I could do is shake my head at the overwhelming wonder of God’s creation. One thing I love about heading into the wilderness (especially mountains) is how one can become solely focused on life’s bare necessities… water, food, good health, and breathing. For at least awhile, acquiring/maintaining these bare essentials is all that really matters. Too bad life tends to get so much more complicated when I come out of the wilderness and no longer think the bare essentials are good enough. Robert Coles, author of The Call of Service, expresses my biggest concern after descending from the mountain/mountaintop experiences in general, “Maybe I’ll just start in with the rat race again, and my memory will take the rear seat while my greed grabs the wheel and steps on the gas.” Scary.

Escaping Carnaval

2008-02-08T14:05:00.000-08:00

So as much as you're probably hoping that Carnaval went out with a BANG... it really didn't. Last Friday night I went with my host mom to pick up host dad at the bank. He was SOPPING wet and SMELLY. Apparentally the office celebrated hard core and the boss himself smashed eggs on his employees' heads and everyone splashed coffee and water on each other. ¡Aye Carumba! When I asked my family what their Carnaval plans were they told me to go to the beach because Cuenca would be dead.

So the next day I took off at 6 am for the beach! Only while leaving my house, I definitely set off the ALARM SYSTEM! Lights flashed, sirens wailed, and there was a telephone call saying the police were coming! OH NO! Host brother rushed out of his room and said, "Aye Kah-tay" with a big grin on his face. Let me explain... usually when I wake up and leave the house the alarm system has already been turned off. Not to mention, I have yet to wrap my head around locking doors, let alone alarm systems! Unfortunately, I failed to realize that I was the first one up (Saturday morning, 6 am... DUH!) and forgot to press the magic buttons.

Anyway... the beach. We had a personal bus for our five hour trip. At first I was not a fan of traveling in this gringa bubble but it ended up being ok. Our drive there was crazy because there have been some intense rains in the mountains and mudslides left some hefty boulders right in the middle of the roads. Also, we drove through some cities that were flooded. Yeah, definitely gave me an ugly feeling knowing I was heading to the beach for four days of relaxation while there were people struggling to put their homes back together. Yes, this is an everyday occurence around the world. But this time I drove right through it... and did absolutely nothing about it except feel guilty.

The beach itself was definitely nothing to boast about as it lacked vegetation and was full of trash. But still... the OCEAN! We stayed at a hostel. Ten girls, six beds with mosquito nets, geckos chirping in the room, two towels, bad eggs... you can ONLY imagine. While everyone else was having a super sweet adventure exploring the great unknown beach miles away, I was sitting in a two dollar beach chair under an umbrella, dying from dehydration and breakfast (Yes, you REALLY should drink more BOTTLED water). However, one super cool girl kept me company and as she is a San Diego beach bum, we made several observations while comparing beach experiences...

• This beach was definitely the dirtiest we’d ever seen. People didn’t seem to go for the concept of taking trash with you.
• Instead of a boardwalk where you can go buy food and trinkets, the food and trinkets come to you. Venders came up to us about every 10 minutes, shaking their product in front of our faces. Usually not a big deal, but definitely annoying when you’re dozing off.
• The people here LOVE the sand. I remember being super little and getting sand all over the world. But I definitely went through a stage where I was like, you know, sand isn’t as cool as I once thought it was. That stage does not exist here. People recklessly rolled around in it, completely plastering themselves. It didn’t matter what age they were, these Ecuadorians definitely know how to play in the sand. It was pretty cool to see that adults hadn’t forgotten how to play. Playfulness. I am a fan. I think life starts to turn sour when you don’t make time to play.
• We gringas were the ONLY ones lying out on the beach with the intention of getting a tan. Everyone else was already bronze enough. I can only imagine the laughs they got when the pale skinned people turned into lobsters. HAHA!
• Waves rushing at you equals one heck of a sweet adrenaline rush.
• Sunsets over the ocean are INCREDIBLE and you can almost always count on them to salvage a crappy (sometimes quite literally… sorry, I can’t help it!) day.

Alas, Carnaval is finally OVER and the streets are safe to walk through. WOOHOO! At least during the day...

My Typical Day

2008-02-07T05:27:00.000-08:00

6:30 Host mom goes for a walk. So far I’ve only seen one person out jogging.
7:30 Leo (the maid) serves me breakfast: every day I have hot chocolate made with milk, fresh juice, bread from a panaderia with homemade blackberry jam, and a banana for the road; 15 minute walk to school
8-12:30 Classes: Conversation and Composition (Hooray), Grammar (Gross); internet access
12:30 Walk home and chill w/ Leo while she finishes preparing lunch

1:30 Lunchtime! The most important meal of the day in Latin America… Kisses all around along with soup (rice, potato, bean, vegetable, green bean, pea), white rice, meat, veggies (usually lettuce), and fresh juice (pineapple, blackberry, tomato, orange, strawberry, papaya). The father is served first and then usually me. We don’t pray before eating. Conversation flies around and I attempt to hold on for dear life. Since my host father works in a bank, they talk a lot about economics, a subject I usually don’t even understand in English! Shoot. In prime form, inevitably I spill something or launch rice across the table. The brothers teach me how to cuss, tell me that I’m eating hippo meat and that Madonna has slept in my bed and baked cookies with Leo. They are a stitch. Lunch is NOT eaten at a leisurely pace and everyone seems to finish at the same time. Usually the father is the first to leave the table after first crossing himself (they are Catholic) and saying “Gracias, gracias” (Thanks for the food, thanks for the conversation). Everyone does this and then retires to their rooms for siesta time, which they spend watching tv, usually soap operas.

2:00-? Family heads back to work, I hang out with hilarious orphans… they practice English, I practice Spanish, occasionally I have my service learning class where we sit around and listen to everyone’s experiences volunteering in various places, explore the town and eventually head home and chill with Leo some more
7:30 Dinner, much like lunch only way smaller portions… Ruffage my friends, this food definitely cleanses your system. I have yet to decide whether this is healthy or not. Silly sensitive stomach.
8:00 on the mother tells me to go rest, they watch the local news and then CNN in Spanish, Leo brings drinks (Strawberry juice…I think) up to their room, I do homework

Leo is indigenous and has been working for this family for at least 25 years. She lives on the third floor of their house and has Sundays off. She has children in their twenties and when they were young they lived in my host family’s house as well. The family and Leo appear to be really close and Leo cares for the family quite a bit. While Leo does the majority of the cooking, everyone is quite capable of creating their own food masterpieces. They keep asking me if I can cook and get a good laugh when I tell them pancakes from a box, potatoes from a box, brownies from a box… Shoot. One day the granddaughter and I will make cookies. Or scotcheroos. That way I can prove that I’m capable of cooking on some level, right? Leo never eats with us. At breakfast I’m all by myself and she’ll sit at the table and converse with me. At lunch she eats in the kitchen with the one other employer who works in the family cutlery business and at dinner she eats by herself. I’ve often heard her talking to herself and the granddaughter claims she’s “está en otro mundo” (in another world). Whether or not that is the case, she is extremely kind-hearted and I appreciate her friendship. It bothers me greatly that a line exists that neither she nor the family crosses. Thankfully I will just claim ignorance and cross lines whether I realize it or not.

Another thing that has taken some getting used to is that the main hang out room appears to be my host parents’ bedroom. After talking to other students, this seems to be common for them as well. There is a living room on the first floor but all of the furniture has sheets over it and I have yet to see anyone set foot in there. The one time they had lots of family over we all remained around the massive dining table for hours. Occasionally they’ll invite me in to their bedroom to watch the nightly news with them. I have yet to grow comfortable with this (the bedroom part) and personally prefer the good old living room. Also, most families here don’t have either air conditioning or heat because the weather is so comfortable. However, on days that it is cold, the people just FREEZE! On days like this, my host family wears layers upon layers of clothes and they ask me why I’m just in a t-shirt and won’t I please put a jacket on. If it is a weekend, odds are they will spend the majority of the day watching movies while tucked into bed. If only they knew what you all were suffering back home! Oh gracious.

Shaman and VISAs

2008-02-06T07:27:00.000-08:00

My composition and conversation professor is the nicest man ever and truly does care about how his three students’ experiences in Ecuador are going (yeah small class size!). However, sometimes we have some pretty lame-o exercises in his class. Therefore, we do our best to keep him off subject for as long as possible. No worries, he is cool with it, because after all, it is a conversation class, and he is definitely a fount of information when it comes to Ecuadorian culture. Fascination…

I’ve been super interested in shaman lately (people who practice natural medicine and spiritual healing) and when I brought it up with my host parents they expressed their belief that shaman were silly because they were all about curing people by scaring the devil out of them. My professor is also very skeptical of their practices, especially since they take a powerful hallucinogen at least two times a week that is apparently 10 times stronger than LSD! YIKES. He believes in natural medicine but thinks shaman rock the “power of suggestion” for all it’s worth and that their so-called method of curing is nothing more than the result of an expensive placebo effect. For example, it costs people around $20 to see a typical doctor for a regular checkup whereas to see the shaman one usually has to fork over at least $50. Prof claims shaman take advantage of uneducated country people who are willing to pay big bucks for natural medicine. Also, because rich mythology is embedded in this culture, many people in the lower class believe in witchcraft. I found this to be quite intriguing because the majority of Ecuadorians are Catholic. Apparently many people practice both Catholicism and witchcraft. Anyway, I wrongfully assumed that these uneducated country people were poor and wondered how they could even afford to see a Shaman. Prof explained how those living in the country are actually loaded with money because the men in these households mortgage their property to loan sharks who pay them $10,000, enough to finance their illegal immigration to New York where they work in construction and get paid $10-$15/hour. They send this money back home for necessities and living expenses, and for what Prof refers to as “buying” their children’s love with things like play stations! Unfortunately, while in New York these men become uber materialistic and end up spending many years in the US while their wives remain at home raising the children on their own. At first I was like, dag yo, that is so depressing. And then I thought about how this experience is not too terribly far removed from many families in the US, where countless parents are so enslaved to their work that they can’t make time for family and then end up missing their children grow up.

Illegal immigration… I’m sure this topic will come up again and again. Prof explained how if he were to visit the US Embassy here in Ecuador, he would be denied a VISA because he isn’t qualified. These qualifications include owning a nice house and a practically brand new car, as well as earning $500/month. Since Prof drives a junker and lives in an apartment with his wife and kids, he doesn’t even come close to meeting this ridiculous policy. The idea is that if an individual has all of these things in Ecuador, he will be much less likely to vanish in the states once his VISA expires. Ecuadorians can easily get VISAS to China and Africa, as well as travel around South America; but they can only dream about haughty Europe and US.

Prof’s dream job is to one day be a translator in the US; but since that will probably never happen, his back-up plan is to get his citizenship in Canada where he can easily get a VISA to travel anywhere. It was most upsetting to listen to this wonderfully kind man who has worked so hard to get where he is, passionately express his dreams to travel… only to wonder if he (or anyone else in his boat) ever will, or if ludicrous systems will continue to oppress him. Semester after semester he receives new students from the US who are able to live out their dreams by traveling to his country; yet he may never be granted access to ours. This makes me sick and I can’t help but think that the Lord must shake His head over this business of borders and keeping people in and out.

Family, Family, Family

2008-02-01T07:28:00.000-08:00

Having spent one week with my host family, I’ve already experienced a common theme here in Cuenca – the importance of kin. From day one my host parents have addressed me as “Mi hija,” (my child) and they go out of their way to make sure things are going smoothly for me. My host mother explained how during her time it was common for newlyweds to move in with either the wife or husband’s family. While this is no longer common, members of the family still maintain strong ties with one another. While my three host brothers went to college in Cuenca they lived at home. In fact, it is typical for children to remain at home until they are married; and as my 28-yr-old brother is single, he too, resides at home. This is not only completely acceptable, but highly encouraged. But it’s not like he’s putzing around the house as he definitely puts in a full day’s work at the family’s cutlery business in the backyard.

My host mother is very much a caretaker and wishes that everyone in her family could live nearby one another forever. Sometimes we come pretty close. For example, my host brother and his wife come over for lunch every single day during the workweek. Also, my host parents’ granddaughter, who lives on the coast (where schools just let out for what is equivalent to our summer vacation), is now spending the next three months living with her grandparents (I am most stoked to have a kid around the house). It’s pretty cool how they make time during their busy day to have meals as a family. Throughout high school and college I usually rushed through eating and failed to fully appreciate sharing a meal with others because I was usually focused (stupidly) on what more had to be done before that blessed moment when I could lay my head on my pillow. As if anything could have been that much more important then enjoying my limited time with friends and family.

I explained how where I come from, children are usually expected to move out of the house once they complete school. My host mother’s response… “¡Qué drástico!” I’d never really thought about it before; but yeah, that does sound pretty drastic… as if one were being cut off from a main support system. Then again, that depends on the family. But to be completely honest, if I’m living with my folks when I am 28, heck yeah, I will probably be wondering where I went wrong. In my eyes, I would have failed at independence. What can I say? I’ve been shaped by my culture and internalized its overall negative stigma associated with continuing to live with one’s family instead of out on one’s own. From what I have experienced thus far, here, continuing to live at home doesn’t imply a lack of independence, but rather, great devotion for one’s family. Granted, there are and always will be exceptions. Needless to say, with a desire to see more of the world, I’m afraid I wouldn’t make a very good Ecuadorian daughter. I would be late for too many meals.

Soccer and Ingapirca

2008-01-30T09:04:00.000-08:00

This past weekend was full of adventures…

More Water...
A couple of us spent Saturday exploring Cuenca further while actively dodging bombas. We were pretty successful. Within four hours we were only squirted three times and drenched when a teen in the back of a moving pickup dumped a massive cement bucket full of water on top of us. We have become much better at realizing when we need to cross streets and duck into little stores.

El fútbol...
On Saturday night my host family took me to the soccer game between Cuenca and Quito. As you may have guessed, soccer is easily the national sport. The streets were super crazy and my host mother took a hold of my hand and didn’t let it go until we entered the stadium. There were no security checks involving brush downs, just the presentation of your ticket and “Buenos dias”. The pre-game took forever! When each Cuenca player was announced, he was accompanied across the stage by a female model wearing stilettos. Not gonna lie, it was pretty entertaining to watch these poor women march up the stage stairs and cross the stage with all of this poise only to awkwardly and treacherously make their way down the stairs to pick up the next player. Silly shoes. Anyway, I was surprised by the super chill crowd. Yes, the people certainly had plenty to drink, but they didn’t get as riled up as I anticipated. My host mother explained that this was because a friendly rivalry exists between the two towns and there’s no need to get too upset. The crowd was decked out in red and yellow as those are Cuenca’s colors. When I was younger I would associate towns with colors because of Little League. But other then that, never. One section in the stadium was full of people cheering with torches! Unbelievable. Obviously, I was sitting in the boring section. Unfortunately, there were a few smokers around us and man can that ruin your enjoyment level. There was also a sweet display of fireworks and officials lit several mini hot air balloons and let them off into the sky. During the game this little girl about age 13 was selling beer. So weird to see. The game itself was pretty exciting simply because I was sitting next to my host family’s 12-yr-old granddaughter and holy cats does that girl get excited. The game ended with a tie and there was no shootout. When we exited the stadium several men were taking a leak into some hedges across the street.

Ingapirca...
On Sunday our group visited Ingapirca, Ecuador’s most important Incan archaeological ruins. The main attraction is the Temple of the Sun, a stone structure that was built without mortar! The stones were carved to fit together perfectly. Such precision. Its elliptical shape corresponds with the movement of the sun because the site was used for astronomy purposes. It was quite the sight to behold. Our guide took us on a beautiful hike around the countryside where one student from Manhattan saw a bull for the first time! Wowsers. It was so WONDERFUL to be surrounded by nature again. Cuenca is quaint and all, but this country girl is suffocating.

Deprivation… REALLY?!

2008-01-25T07:08:00.000-08:00

Did I really refer to not having a hot shower as a deprivation? Disgusting. Wow, this whole having a maid thing must already be getting to me. As if I have a RIGHT to a hot shower. I do not have a right to a hot shower. It is a LUXURY. Good, glad I cleared that up.

Previous comments describing how I wanted to laugh at the the poor Pepsi man on the plane along with boasting about remaining pretty dry thus far totally joined forces to kick me in the butt when I encountered the deadliest Carnival weapon yet. Yesterday I was on my way to class after lunch and attempting to cross the street between waiting cars when the car I was going to squeeze in front of pulled up so that I couldn’t fit through. While thinking how uncool that was, I backed away only to be sprayed in the face and blinded with what felt like an entire can of FOAM. I kid you not. My face, hair, and t-shirt were absolutely covered in pink foam. Laughter erupted from my attackers in the car and then from everyone standing on the streets. I was only one block away from the town square so there were loads of people around. To add some icing to the pink cake… while scraping the foam off and trying to salvage what little dignity I had left, a water balloon exploded on my back. Too perfect. How did I respond? To be quite honest, this is totally something that would happen to me and while I was initially shocked and yeah, HUMILIATED, I’ve learned to accept that the only thing I can really do is shake my head and join in the LAUGHTER. Once again, in hindsight, I should have remained next to the car and flicked the foam back inside. However, they probably had more ammo so that plan would have backfired. But, I must emphasize that this really is just a tradition and of course it would make sense to hit the gringa since she is worth more points. I don’t want people thinking Cuencanos are jerk faces. They’re just REALLY into their Carnival. ☺

Get Your Squirt Gun

2008-01-24T05:16:00.000-08:00

Cuenca is a VERY dangerous place this time of year. That’s right. At this very moment, Cuencanos are preparing for La Carnival, a celebration that involves puring one’s soul with water. Although this celebration doesn’t officially start for at least another week, the entire city started participating in a water fight weeks ago! You have no idea how DANGEROUS this makes my 15 minute walk to and from class. I first heard about La Carnival as we were entering Cuenca for the first time. While our instructor was explaining the craziness of it all someone totally chucked a water balloon at our bus! Welcome to Cuenca!

One must be very, very careful when maneuvering her way through the streets. Yesterday, one of my good friends was the victim of a drive-by shooting. She had no time to prepare herself when all of a sudden, a squirt gun poked itself out of a passing car, shooting cold water right at her face! Weapons come in many shapes and sizes and truly do appear out of nowhere. They include hoses, buckets of water, the innocent water bottle, and the oh so popular water balloon, also known as a bomba (bomb). As previously seen, water may come shooting at victims from passing cars, from up above on rooftops, or even at knee level where giggling assailants pop out from tiny shops to make sure you get swamped with water. No one is safe. It doesn’t matter how old or young you are, you are a target.

Thankfully, I have only been hit once, on the back of my legs. Shocked, I turned around to see this adorable little boy swinging another water balloon in his hand and chasing down his next victim. Today another little boy totally picked me out from a line of people (I hear both people wearing suits and Gringos are worth more points, especially the blonde ones) and gave his mother a coy look. She burst into a massive grin, gave me a knowing look, and handed a water balloon to her son! I think “OH NO!” came out of my mouth as I attempted to escape. Lucky for me, the little tyke has to work on his aim. In hindsight, I wish I had let him hit me just to see his devilish face afterwards. Maybe that will be my initial reaction next time… or not.

But yesterday… oh yesterday. I left class only to enter the street and find myself at the foot of what appeared to be a gauntlet of school kids. The sidewalk was absolutely drenched and kids stood around smirking while trying to conceal their weapons. So I put on my “Don’t mess with me” face (yes, I really DO have one) and marched through only to come out dry. WOOHOO! Take that kids! HAHA! I find it hilarious that my only two assailants so far have pretty much been toddlers. However, if things get too ugly, I may have to invest in my own squirt gun. Only no squirting policeman as they are against the big water fight, claiming it’s too violent. Knowing me, I’ll probably have to serve time here in Cuenca after somehow managing to get an officer wet. Oh dear…

Oh, and I had a HOT shower this morning! WOOHOO! It’s amazing how a little bit of deprivation can make you so thankful.

Mi Familia en Ecuador

2008-01-22T05:42:00.000-08:00

So I totally didn’t prepare myself for what it would be like to meet my host family. Can you? Really? We arrived in Cuenca on Sunday after an eight-hour bus ride and waited in a room in our school to meet our families. We joked about how we felt like orphans and I really did feel like I’d just gotten off the orphan train/bus. Back in the day street kids would be shipped by train from New York out into the West where they would line up in some community gathering area and locals would come to check them out and decide whether or not they wanted to take a child home. Yeah, my knees were shaking and I was uber nervous. Granted, at least I knew I had a family, but dag yo. Anyway, my host mother was there to greet me and she patted my hand and said “Tranquila.” And just like that, we put my luggage in her SUV and drove off. Away from all of my new friends. Alone. With this woman who was going to be my host mother for the next four months… So yeah, I was internally FREAKING out. But like always, I spent way too much time and energy being nervous. Stupid nerves. Nerves are something I’ve decided to work on while here. When fear drives my life, I miss out on way too much. More about that some other time.

But yeah, my family. I walked into their house and was like, holy cats, I’ve seen this place before. And I really had. This past December I talked to the only girl from Luther who has done this particular program in Ecuador and she showed me some pics of her experiences. Turns out, I have her host family. Small world. The parents are super nice and patient with my much less than desirable Spanish skills. They are both in their sixties. The father works in a bank and the mother is a housewife. They also have a maid who lives with them. Needless to say, they are pretty wealthy. I have my own room with a television and my own bathroom. I know, pretty hotsy totsy. There is also a 28-yr-old who lives at home who is obsessed with cars! But he is cool and a big jokester. Today I asked him what he did for a job and he told me he hunted deer in the city every day. Then again, maybe that’s not what he said. HAHAHA! There are also two sons who are married and have their own homes. We hang out during meal times and immediately after dinner (8:15ish) they head for bed. The first night they said “Vamos a descansar” which I interpreted as, “We’re going to go chill and talk for awhile.” Or not. Definitely meant time for bed. I am grateful for their kindness. It takes some pretty special people to invite a complete stranger into their home to be a part of their family for four months. Pretty special indeed.

Other tidbits I have noticed about my family thus far:
• They drive a stick shift!
• They don’t wear seatbelts.
• They are VERY affectionate with one another. This is a cultural thing. Whenever one enters or leaves the room she must acknowledge EVERYONE. And no, this is not a simple wave of the hand accompanied with “Hola” or “Adios”. Nope. Woman touch right cheeks with both men and women and make a kissing sound while men shake hands with one another. Yup. Lots of affection. It will take some getting used to. But overall, I think I’m a fan. Makes you feel loved, or at least, acknowledged. And that is a GREAT thing.

Here We Are

2008-01-21T07:51:00.000-08:00

WOOHOO! We’re finally here! The flights to Miami and then on to Ecuador were super smooth. Thankfully fellow Luther friend Alison and I had seats next to each other which made traveling much less stressful. The highlight of flying had to be when an open Pepsi in the compartment above us came splashing down upon the man next to me. This would have been absolutely hilarious had the man not burst into a stream of profanity that I have not heard since my bus riding days. Hilarious quickly turned into fearing for my life and paying close attention whenever I had liquids in my hands. Unfortunately, this whole ordeal took place within the first five minutes of boarding, and the man was definitely Mr. Grumpy pants after that and attempted conversation was quickly shot down.

Oh goodness. So many things. This week has been a whirlwind! First off, I’ve experienced a significant amount of culture shock just from visiting with the other students on this trip. There are about 20 of us and we’re from every corner of the states. Anyway, while traveling around Quito and northern Ecuador…

•I straddled the EQUATOR, with one foot in the Southern hemisphere and the other in the Northern one… WAY cool!
•Got burned after spending half of an hour out in the fog and drizzle. Yes, Ecuador really IS that much closer to the sun.
•Fell in love with ANDEAN MUSIC after an indigenous family played their pipes for us. This totally reminded me think of Peter Pan and I got really excited. Only when I tried to blow into the pipe, I made no music and just became super light headed. Others were definitely more successful. Shoot. Maybe I can take lessons…
•Stood in a GUINEA PIG hut. They were so adorable and squeaky! The owner explained the importance of guinea pig to his income and how it is considered fine dining. A refusal to eat it would be an insult. On one particular menu it was $15! So yes, it’s inevitable, at some point, I will be trying it.
•Managed to get sick on Mexican food. No worries, the drugs quickly went to war in my stomach. Just makes me nervous for the rest of the stay…
•I’ve seen more DOGS than perhaps I’ve ever seen in my life. They are everywhere! They are super mangy and make it their business to mark their territory everywhere.
•Went on a SCAVENGER HUNT, which involved asking locals about their town (Otavalo). Here I discovered just how much Spanish I really don’t know. While that was frustrating, it was super fun (and intimidating) conversing with the locals. For the most part, citizens were really receptive of us and patient with our Spanish. They were more than willing to talk about their town, culture and politics! This really made me wonder how I would have responded to a minority in the US if I had been stopped on the streets of Manchester or Decorah to answer questions about the origin of my town’s name or what I thought about President Bush. Politics, income, weight (all topics that are pretty much taboo in the US except in one’s innermost circles)… Ecuadorians are pretty willing to speak about.
•Visited a ROSE plantation. Flowers are everywhere!
•Throwing TOILET PAPER into the trash instead of the toilet has almost become a routine.
•Stayed up late one night to watch an active VOLCANO belch out smoke and spew lava! This was definitely THE moment that I wanted to share with lots of people from back home. So whether you knew it or not, you were there in spirit, because I was thinking of you and how we probably would have camped out all night to watch this amazingness.

There’s my week in a nutshell. Sorry it's so smorgisboard. The Andes are absolutely majestic, especially when fog creeps in and around them. Maybe some day I'll be able to post some pics. Not that they will do the mountains justice. Alright, more later. Miss you! Paz.

Ecuador Adventure and the Gift of Wonder

2008-01-13T21:22:00.000-08:00

Wow... blogging... like I actually have anything important to say. Here's the deal: I really don't and I make no promises that this blog will be entertaining, enlightening, politically correct, or inspiring in any way. However, whenever any of my acquaintances take off on adventures I tell them I'm living vicariously through them. Tomorrow I am leaving for what will no doubt be my coolest adventure to date: studying in Cuenca, Ecuador. So, if you'd like, here's a chance to get a taste of Ecuador, guinea pig and all (I hear it's chewy). Guess we'll find out! WOOHOO!

Reckless Wonder? I'm currently reading The Ragamuffin Gospel, in which author Brennan Manning mentions Abraham Joshua Heschel, a rabbi who claimed "Never once in my life did I ask God for success or wisdom or power or fame. I asked for WONDER, and He gave it to me" (89). Wow. What a sweet thing to ask for. Good call rabbi. Manning later includes the following prayer: "Dear Lord, grant me the grace of wonder. Surprise me, amaze me, awe my in every crevice of Your universe. Delight me to see how Your Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not His... Each day enrapture me with Your marvelous things without number. I do not ask to see the reason for it all; I ask only to share the wonder of it all" (105). Pretty much, I couldn't stop smiling and nodding my head in agreement with this passage when I came across it. There is wonder all around us. One definitely doesn't need to travel to find it. Therefore, yeah, this blog will hopefully focus on the many things I find to be wondrous. And YOU should TOTALLY keep me updated on all of the wonder going on in your life. While in Ecuador I will be taking a break from Facebook as my self discipline is pretty weak and I get sucked into the newsfeed and then spend waaaaay too much time stalking everyone. Not that I don't want to keep in touch with you; I'd just prefer to do it via another way. This way I will spend less time on a computer and more time exploring! I will definitely be checking email though (berrka01@luther.edu).

Alright, time to calm down these butterflies. Here we go! Paz.