Montañita

Last weekend was the Ecuadorian version of Columbus Day, which here is called Dia de la Raza (or day of the race), so I had a three day weekend. It saddens me that even here, we celebrate Columbus but still fail to recognize the rights of indigenous peoples. I could write entry upon entry about that, but this is all I will say on the subject right now: no matter what country I live in, Columbus sucks.

Nevertheless, I will always take advantage of a three day weekend to do some traveling and see this beautiful country. So with my three gringa-loca friends I ventured to Montanita, a smallish beach town about two hours from Guayaquil. This is kind of the party beach-town of Ecuador.  There are lots of restaurants, bars, shops, and clubs, but not much else. It is definitely a twenty-something tourist destination.  It was cloudy every day that we were there, but it was still much warmer, and I loved being at the beach.  We ate seafood every day, and walked around the town, took naps, and enjoyed each other's company.  At night we went out dancing. We wanted (in particular, I wanted) to dance salsa, merengue, bachata, and cumbia more than we wanted to dance to reggaeton. When the DJ at a club wouldn't play the kinds of music we wanted, we left the club and ended up finding tienda owners with stereo systems to play the music we wanted so we could dance salsa, cumbia, merengue and bachata in the street. People asked us to dance everywhere, whether the venue was intended for dancing or not. I haven't felt quite so carefree in a long time.

I have heard that the coastal culture of Ecuador can be much different than the mountain culture, and in my experience this is correct. I should clarify that most of the people I met were not from Montanita itself, but from Guayaquil or other coastal towns.  Still,  people wore much brighter colors on the coast, and even the buildings and signs were painted more brightly than they are here in Cuenca. People in Montanita were much more friendly and outgoing, more people said hello to us on the street, men cat-called us more often, and conversations with shop keepers, taxi drivers, and others working people lasted a little longer. The women dress far more conservatively in Cuenca than they do on the coast.  In part I think this is because of the difference in daily temperature, but women also showed more cleavage and wore tighter-fitting clothes than they do in Cuenca, especially in clubs.  Furthermore, there seemed to be taller men and more voluptuous women on the coast, where as in Cuenca men and women alike are often short and stocky.  Finally, the men in Montanita were much better dancers than the men in Cuenca are, in my experience.

The Four Gringa-Locas just outside of Montanita.

The Four Gringa-Locas again, with a parasailor in the background.

Walking down the street in Montanita looking for a good place to eat.

View of our hotel room from the loft.

Ceviche: a cold Ecuadorian seafood soup served for breakfast or lunch.

Visiting the doctor in Ecuador

Since I have been experiencing intestinal problems and dehydration for over a week to no avail, I finally "put on my big girl pants" and went to the doctor. It took a while to get a recommendation for a doctor who spoke some English, but I found one. He even happens to be within walking distance. Thanks to a friend whose husband is a doctor, I ended up at a wonderful clinic that serves a wide range of needs. It took some time and many trips to the upstairs office of an English-speaking nurse, but eventually I took a parasite test (which I will tell you, at the risk of being gross, involves giving a stool sample). Thankfully, I am parasite-free. I do, however, have a bacterial infection which most likely came from eating fruit imported from the coast (which means it was washed using water from the coast which contains different bacteria...woops). The doctor gave me both a low-dose anti-biotic and a highly potent pro-biotic because he said it was better for my stomach to "start new in rejuvenation." He was a very patient, kind doctor and I would go to him again in a heartbeat. I had been dreading going to the doctor because I knew that if no one spoke English, I would likely struggle to get my needs met. This trip was relatively painless, although they first thought I wanted a pregnancy test instead of a parasite test. However, once I remembered that "embarazada" means pregnant and not embarrassed (For about thirty seconds I thought they were asking me if I was embarrassed to poop in a cup) I quickly corrected that notion. I actually left feeling more relieved than I've felt in a long time. Pun intended.

Anecdote

At the end of the school day yesterday I was standing at the gated entrance/exit of the school, performing my usual Wednesday door duty.  Most of the kids had piled out for the day, but there were some stragglers around waiting for parents or buses. One of the students still at school was a third-grade boy who is blind. Students and teachers alike enjoy being around this kid because he loves life and school so much it's infectious. I don't actually have this kid as a student, but I interact with him in some way weekly. I greeted him as he approached me, and he mistook me for Tia Valerie, his science teacher. I let him know who I was, and then I informed him that Tia Valerie was about six meters behind him, but that she was walking towards us now. He got really excited and grabbed my hands, saying "mande." I asked him what "mande" meant, as I had yet to learn it. He replied "lunes" (which is the word for Monday in Spanish). I replied, "No, Como se dice mande en ingles?" To which he replied, "Monday." At this point Tia Valerie approached us, and I relayed the story to her.  She informed me that "mande" means "tell me" in Cuencano Spanish. The third grader then informed both of us that he just thought I couldn't say "Monday" correctly in English, which made us all laugh.

Totally Overwhelmed

I'm not going to lie, these past two weeks have not been great. I am growing weary of never knowing what I'm doing. I have more insecurity than I have had in a really long time. I am tired of not knowing Spanish. I am tired of being sick. ( Side note: I have gotten over my cold for the most part, though I do have a lingering cough, but now I am having intestinal problems. Based on conversations with my family at home and friends here, I am either having trouble digesting fats and oils, or I have a parasite). I am tired of feeling like I work harder here and get less accomplished. I am tired of thinking I planned a great lesson only to have it bomb because I executed it poorly.  Basically, the shiny novelty of living in Ecuador is starting to wear off, and the many realities of living in a foreign country are starting to set in.

This is still what I want, don't get me wrong. This is still what I worked for all those months last year, and inadvertently for the past however many years. I am just ready for some sense of adequacy. It is  fairly painful to be faced with an entire set of Ecuador-related insecurities to constantly keep at bay and work toward overcoming.

At the same time, there are synchronicities that occur here regularly enough that I feel like I'm doing something kind of right. For example, the night before I left for Cuenca, I prayed that the Powers That Be would provide me with a loving community, that I could find a yoga class (or something similar), and that I would feel "good enough" in this new life, among other things. My first night in Cuenca I was invited to join a yoga class. Yesterday I moved into what will likely be my permanent housing for the year: a house for internationals in Cuenca which houses seven other people who welcomed me into "the family" when I arrived. And while I don't always feel "good enough" I am taking steps to take care of myself daily, so that I have some sense of self worth even in the face of all my insecurity.

One of the many things I am learning here, is that life is absolutely packed with both good and bad. I am kind of overwhelmed by how much I feel here on a daily basis, but then again I have always been an emotional person. My life in Ecuador is literally like riding an emotional roller coaster; I actively try to take pride in all my small accomplishments, but at the same time, making mistakes can make me feel totally dejected. This fact in itself adds to the theme of overwhelm in my life, because as emotional as I am, I'm usually more stable. I keep telling myself that, in time and with effort, I will regain a sense of normalcy. Hopefully it's not too much time.

Cajas

I was able to go to Cajas National Park a few weeks ago with some friends, which was probably the best day I've had since coming to Cuenca. The park is located about a half an hour outside of Cuenca, in the mountains. While there, I was completely overwhelmed by the beauty and peace of the mountains and I felt a surge of gratitude the entire time we were there. For whatever reason, being in Cajas made it incredibly clear to me that I now live in Ecuador; I am living out a life dream right now.  Really, what more can a person ask for? Unfortunately I forgot my camera, and I only just recently received pictures of the trip from a friend. I've been waiting to post about Cajas mostly because I felt my writing about it might be trivial, but pictures could potentially give a more accurate depiction.



My friend Jenn and I near one of the many mountain lakes.

Me, Jenn, and Nico leaving the lake.

Jenn, me, and Nico having a snack.

The wild llamas and horses of Cajas.

The Little Thing...Chicken...For Soup

This is what I said to the guy running the tienda just down the block from my apartment when I wanted to buy a bouillon cube for my soup broth.  Before buying my bouillon cube I attempted to go to the market to buy a chicken bone to boil, but I became so nauseous at the site and smell of all the whole, dead chickens-- feet and skin still on-- that I left in search of fresh air before I could manage to try to ask for what I wanted.

 So a bouillon cube it was for me. Anyway, I dread shopping here because I can't just go into a store, pick out what I want,pay, and leave. In most cases I have to go up to a counter and ask for what I want, which of course makes it glaringly obvious that I am a non-Spanish speaking Gringa. This is the crux of most of my insecurity here in Ecuador: I don't speak Spanish. Most of the time I am able to use hand gestures and single words in succession (like the title of my post), or point to what I want. Sometimes I bring a friend, which makes things much less painful during the buying process, but I do not love the feeling of not being independent. Either way, I always, always walk away wishing I knew more Spanish. I am also fairly aware that people probably charge me a higher price because I am white and unable to fully (or even partially) communicate with them.  This is just a fact of life here, at least for now.

On the other hand, my Spanish use in the classroom is getting better. I am supposed to speak to my students solely in English, which I do 99% of the time. I don't really have a choice. But I have learned the words for write, draw, be quite, etc., and I use them when I necessary. I also have my students write down the new vocab in Spanish and English on the board, and draw a picture. Once our new vocab is on the board they all copy this into their notebooks, which gives me time to copy the Spanish words into my own notebook. I will not pretend to have learned all my student's English vocab in Spanish, even with the help of my new system. But it is helping me with exposure.  The other day I was trying to help a student in my class with special needs (who does not speak any English), and using very broken Spanish and lots of gesturing and visual aids, I eventually got the point across to him.  As I was turning to leave him, the girl sitting next to him grabbed my arm excitedly and said "Tia! You are starting to learn more Spanish! Good job!" It was really endearing (especially with her accent). 

On Being Sick in a Foriegn Country

So I've got a pretty bad cold, and I've been running a fever all day. I stayed home from school today, and I've been working on taking care of myself. I homemade chicken noodle soup last night, and I've been really intentional about eating lots of sick-friendly foods. I bought vitamin C tabs and I've been drinking hot liquids all week.  One of the janitors at my school told me to juice many limes, heat the juice with honey and drink it hot. A friend who's lived here for the past two years (though is originally from Minnesota) told me to add cayenne pepper to this mix. This home remedy definitely clears out your sinuses and the honey is great for the throat. Still, despite my best efforts, I seem to be getting worse instead of better. Taking care of myself is exhausting. I am always mentally exhausted from so much learning, but the time intensive process of making soup, constantly making tea, and cleaning up after myself is physically exhausting. I am not so sick that I want my mommy, or anyone else for that matter, to come take care of me.  But I am sick enough to wish for the comforts of the U.S.: I would love canned soup. I would love the convenience of honey that I can squirt out of a bear rather than spoon out of a jar. I would love a couch to lay on (my apartment does not have a living room, and therefore no couch or even upholstered chair). I would love a sweatshirt and a pair of slippers I didn't bring for lack of room in my suitcase. I would love a bathtub and hot water.

Still, I know that this experience is shaping me. This is why I'm here. Life is messy and uncomfortable at times, and I am definitely living down here. I have never been more aware of how alive I am. I have never been more conscious about the need to be intentional with my time and my actions. I have never been more aware of the direct relationship between that which makes me uncomfortable and the lesson I am learning from the experience. This experience is such a gift. This is why I'm here.