Fixed my camera

Okay, no I didn't. I just put a different memory card in and downloaded some sketchy recovery program and now it's working. Still. Chelsea:1, Camera:0.

Remember the amateur bullfighting? This is my host brother and me in the rickety 3 story shack.

That kid was probably about 16. Better view of the shacks.

That time our bitch won the shitzu show.

Purple drank and baby bread for Day of the Dead. (I threw that up later.)

My lovely teachers and their jolly blue giant volunteer.

My new room! (Note the dolphin blanket, same one I used during training. Sonia let me borrow it.)

I decorated a wall with love from home and here.

So much more room for activities!

This is where the magic happens. (Food is my boyfriend.)

The bathroom has a skylight. Yes, you read that right. When the landlords are upstairs doing laundry, they can see me on the toilet. Gotta love Ecua construction.

This is sort of the living room, but mostly the "gym" and "the only place the internet works".

Currently in many mismatched sweaters

Felt like I had to update because a lot has happened, but I have just not felt the writing itch. Or maybe it's more like when you have an itch, but you're already super comfy and don't want to move your arm out of the comfy zone to scratch it. Yeah, kinda like that.

Just had to search for my last real update because I couldn't even remember when was the last time. Over a month ago. Shame shame, Chelsea.

Since then, I went on a really awesome trip to visit some of my favorite volunteers in a coastal city called Arenillas in celebration of Thanksgiving. We spent 2 days on an island, drinking cold beer, eating seafood, and falling asleep in the sand. (Okay, I'll admit I was the only one who did that last part, but you can't imagine how much I missed the warm comfort of a custom sculpted sand bed.) We met a shrimp farmer who insisted on buying us all a crab dinner and thus, insisted on further heightening my faith in humanity. We shopped for and cooked a pretty authentically American feast like the little Peace Corps family we are and generally just relaxed and drank in the good life.

After the trip, I got back to the cold mountains, packed up my things, shed a few too many tears, and moved out on my own. Yep, Chelsea's got a big girl apartment! I got extremely lucky because the apartment was unfurnished and I don't make enough money to buy a ton of furniture to use for a year and then get rid of it, doesn't make much sense either. But, my beloved Coordinator for the Ministry of Education let me borrow pretty much everything! I've got a bed, plus BUNKBEDS!, night stand, refrigerator, dining room table, stove, everything! Plus some other volunteers and teachers at my school pitched in some stuff and now I'm completely set.

I'm ready to spend the rest of my service walking around in either my underwear or a lot of mismatched sweaters and leggings (depending on the weather), doing my "indoor cardio crusher" routine on the daily, experimenting with new, healthy recipes, and drinking a glass (or bottle) of wine occasionally. Oh yeah! And working.

Lately, I've been getting more done on the weekends and afternoons than during the "workday". Several people have started asking for either tutoring sessions or English lessons starting from the basic and I've been obliging, for their sake, and mine. Staying busy keeps me sane. Plus, guess what, guys?! They've been bringing chocolate to the sessions. Do you know what this means?! I'm finally fulfilling my DREAM... of getting paid in chocolate!

Keep shooting for your dreams, friends.

Now I'm dreaming of...

Love, peace, and burrito grease because I'LL BE HOME IN LESS THAN 7 DAYS! Do you know what happens then? This:
http://youtu.be/WIhiHeQ3kEQ
(The world exploded into love all around me)

See you soon!

p.s. if you're ever feeling down, check this out:
www.1000awesomethings.com
There is so much more awesome in the world than you think. You just have to learn to revel in it.

Lost in Translation

“Please hand me the carpet,” he said, directing the request to me with an open palm, during the routine English Area meeting. We were sitting at a desk surrounded by hardwood floors, no fiber-covered floor in sight. 

Now, some people speak English as a foreign language as if it doesn’t fit in their mouth. It’s too big and their cheeks puff out like kids who became overly excited and shoved too much birthday cake in there. Or their lower jaw just doesn’t stretch the way English sounds require. Or like it tastes bad and they have the constant urge to spit it out, sometimes spraying the listener with a mixture of words and saliva. 

But this particular teacher has better than average pronunciation and this statement was as clear as a freshly cleaned fishbowl, which is what tends to make mistakes all the more uncomfortable. For me. 

My mind and hands scramble around trying to locate anything that looks like a rug or a carpet on the desk, anything that resembles protection for a floor from feet, failing miserably. 

The teacher becomes distracted by someone else and turns his head away but his hand remains open, waiting, silently pleading for this mysterious, magic carpet. As usual, I am fighting the internal good fight between correcting/questioning people and encouraging them to practice speaking their second language, all the while, staring at his empty, expectant hand. This particular teacher also has a bit of an ego, rarely speaks to me in English, and highly dislikes public correction. I can’t possibly blurt out a “what are you talking about?!” so instead, I’m searching, when suddenly the small, Spanish-speaking side of my brain clicks! “Carpeta” in Spanish = Folder in English.

Oh.

I hand him the unassuming, green folder and mumble under my breath “ohthefolder youwanted… the folder” but he doesn’t hear me. I silently write it down on my list of “common errors” to bring up anonymously during our next tutoring session. I sigh as everyone returns to arguing in Spanish about decorations for the upcoming Open House, and I think “Yes, I will attempt to fix that another day” … again.

Day of My Death

On Thursday, October 31^st, 2013, I woke up to the sound of screaming bunnies. Do you know why they were screaming? Because they were trapped in a bag, awaiting death, while listening to the demise of their furry little friends. You probably don’t know what screaming bunnies sound like (because neither did I before this day), picture cute squeaking, but filled with terror. It’s basically a PETA member’s worst nightmare. 

And then I remembered it was Halloween and bunny murder seemed fitting. But this also reminded me that it was the last day of the month. I’ve had a strange little superstition ever since I was a little kid about the beginning and end of the month. I can’t remember where I heard it- a TV show or a movie or a friend or teacher, but the idea is that the first thing you say when you wake up on the first day of a new month should be “bunny bunny” and the last thing you say on the night of the last day of the month is “rabbit rabbit” and this should give you good luck for the entire month. It’s sort of like a new beginning ritual, I guess. I always try to do it and I can never remember. As soon as I say “Buenos dias” in the morning of the 1^st, I give myself a mental palm to the forehead. Anyway, bunnies dying on the last day of the month made me think next month might not be so lucky. We’ll see.

I said that the event reminded me that it was Halloween because I almost forgot. It is prohibited in the country of Ecuador to celebrate this spookiest of holidays because it is considered an American tradition, NOT Ecuadorian. So you know what I did?! Broke that law! Like a BAMF. In my high school classes, we played a trick or treat game and in my kids class we played “Pin the Face on the Jack O’Lantern” and Concentration with Halloween vocabulary. Arrest me. ‘Merica! (JK my co-teachers wanted to do it and the students were really interested, cultural interchange is one of the basic goals of the Peace Corps.)

Then, the 1^st of November was the start of the Finados celebrations. Also known as Dia de los Muertos, Dia de los Difuntos, or Day of the Dead. All the classes at the high school made the traditional Colada Morada and Gua Guas de Pan. Colada Morada= Purple Drank. My favorite translation. It’s a warm drink made of blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, pineapple, and spices and it represents the blood of the dead people. Gua gua is the Kichwa word for baby. They make little bread loaves in the shape of babies with a lil babyface and all and it represents the body of the dead people. Because each class made their own version, I was expected to try at least 10 of the 23 courses. I had 4 cups of blood and 2 babies and felt like I was going to explode. (Said the zombie.) 

That night, my host family was also making Colada Morada and bringing big pots of it to share with our neighbors. I helped pass out the drink to neighbors and then attended Mass with the family and then we went out to dinner to eat Guatitas (cow’s intestines in a creamy sauce, really yummy actually). I hadn’t eaten lunch because I was so full from all the zombie food at school so I had gone about 7 hours without eating and then ate a lot at dinner. So when I got home, I figured my stomach ache was normal, I just sat in bed for a few hours because laying down made me nauseous. I fell asleep sitting up but woke up around 2am with cold sweats, chills, and achiness in my whole body. I was in and out of the bathroom every ten minutes and then started vomiting around 5am. I actually got really lucky because we had run out of water for most of the night but it was pumped back into town before the vomiting started. (No water means no working toilet, you do the math.) I’m sorry, this is disgusting, but I had to live it. You only have to read about it. 

So I spent the weekend lying in bed, reading, drinking salt water and tea and Gatorade. My host mother insists that this is my fault for drinking too much colada morada. It was a pointless battle to explain that food poisoning is generally 24 hours later, my reaction was about 20 hours later, and that the traditional drink is full of fresh fruits which are hard to wash, and that if it were overeating, I would have been sick immediately, not the next morning. So I gave up. I did not give up, however, when she tried to get me to eat rabbit on an empty, queasy stomach. 

I almost died on my first Day of the Dead. You can’t make this stuff up.

Real Update, not just cat photos

It’s been a hot minute, guys. Let’s see, what have I been up to? 

I went on a really cool hike at Los Ilinizas (some mountains nearby) which led to a waterfall and hot springs. The hot springs were filled with copper so we left smelling like old pennies and looking like we’d been using too much fake tan spray. I stained my YOLO shirt, but decided that was okay, because that’s what the shirt is all about, know what I’m sayin?! 

I’ve been hanging around the school, trying hard to work with the teachers, but they’ve been really busy. We got WiFi at school though! Fancy! So that’s awesome.

I’m in the middle of a househunt. I’ve looked at a couple new places and have made no decisions. I’ll probably move at the beginning of December so I’ll be sure to fill you in and post photos. (some might be of the house, mostly just photos of cats)

My town’s anniversary was October 14^th. Pujili is now a wise, old 161 years-old. Aging like a fine wine, if you ask me. We had tons of fiestas, of course. The highlight of which was watching drunk guys get trampled by bulls. In the United States, there are a lot of laws and rules set in place to protect people from themselves and their potential for stupidity. Wear your seatbelt. You must be this tall to ride. No smoking. Speed limit: 65. Helmet laws for bicycles. And plenty of food sanitation regulations. 

In Ecuador, on the other hand, it’s pretty much a free-for-all. In fact, last weekend, the town government actually set up and sponsored an event in which people get drunk and try to get themselves killed. And then we all set up wooden shacks and eat snacks while we watch. Like a spectator sport. Awesome.

It was basically amateur bullfighting, in which anyone can enter the ring and tango with the toros. It was somewhat thrilling the first day but then it lasted a total of four days and I sort of got sick of it. But it was definitely an experience! 

Then, last week, I was sent to a city called Riobamba in Chimborazo (2 provinces south) to present at a teachers’ workshop. We did 2 days for 4 hours each day. It was somewhat tiring at the end, but I LOVE workshops. After each session, the teachers clap and tell you how good a teacher you are and want to take photos with you. Talk about an ego boost. It’s as if I’m some famous Swedish professor sent across the world to give a lecture on Quantum Physics, or something equally confusing, rather than a 2 hour Powerpoint about my native language. PLUS GUESS WHAT I ATE?! You’ll never guess because you’ll think it’s so mundane and not worth YELLING IN CAPS LOCK so I’ll just tell you. CARL’S FREAKING JUNIOR! It’s the only one I’ve seen in this country and it was so delectably delicious. I got a Portobello mushroom burger and my mouth had a party and it invited that burger because it looked like a fun-ghi! Get it?! 

Finally, this weekend, my host family entered our bitch into a dog show. (it’s our female dog, I’m not being crude, you guys) She is so gross. She has long, blonde, nappy hair and there is always food stuck in it. Okay, that kinda sounds like me, but at least I brush it! Sometimes! Anyway, her name is Kiara and she is ridiculous. She won 3 categories!!!! 2 trophies, tons of dog food, treats, brushes, everything. But man, this was a shitzu show, if you ask me. All the dogs barked at each other the entire time so you couldn’t hear the presenter and not a single dog could do a trick. Most people here believe you can’t train dogs. The other top 3 participants included Scrappy the baby pug, dressed as Dracula, and Dobo, the un-fixed French bulldog who peed on everything in sight, including the other dogs. Definitely an experience.

Alright. I’m out. I’ll post again soon with photos of toros, bitches, and cats when I can sort out whatever fight my camera is having with my computer because right now, they’re not speaking to one another. 

Here’s an excellent song I’m currently rapping to. The message: “the things you own end up owning you” (name that movie and you’re my new best friend)

http://youtu.be/gAg3uMlNyHA

p.s.