Semana Santa

March 28, 2013. Finally a great training week. This week is Semana Santa (Holy Week), leading up to Holy Thursday and Friday (which are holidays so we have them off) and Easter on Sunday. So for the 3 day training week, on Monday, as we had a general overview meeting with the training staff, they broke out into a surprise dance party. Then, Tuesday, we got to spend the whole day in Quito. In the morning, we went to 2 museums within La Casa de Cultura: Arte Colonial and Arte Moderno y Instrumentos Musicales. Noteworthy items in each: tiny amulets of children that will steal your soul if you look directly at their faces; lots of exhibits of human sacrifice; statues of priests on cocaine, who look like their eyes are closed but they’re really just high; a mirror which takes away all the bad energy when you look into it- totally did it, feelin’ good; sad but beautiful, sudden transition to Spanish art taking over South America; some gorgeous originals of Oswaldo Guayasamin (Ecuador’s most famous artist) including “Desesperado”, which was my favorite; and flutes made out of human bones. 

On Wednesday, we got to do our Language and Culture class in my house! My Spanish facilitator wanted to get everyone together to learn how to make the traditional dish of Semana Santa- Fanesca. Everyone at the training center hears about my host mom’s famous cooking so the facilitator asked Sonia and she agreed. So the night before, we went to the market and Sonia helped us buy all the ingredients. The soup is known for having 12 grains, (ours had 8) dried fish, some cheese, a hardboiled egg, and a mini empanada on top. It sounded pretty odd, but it was delicious! It’s a lot of work because you have to boil all the grains separately: red beans, lima beans, garbanzo beans, peas, chocho, corn, lentils, peanuts; and the vegetables: zapayo and sambo, which are similar to pumpkin. So we prepared the night before and the morning of, peeling all the beans and cutting everything up, and when my language class got to the house, we finished everything together. Then we had a lesson on Semana Santa and subjunctive tense while the soup finished cooking and my host mom also made Arroz con Leche for dessert, which is like a sweet, hot, rice drink. Barriga llena, corazon contenta.

So there was a volunteer opportunity to help out some taxi drivers with their English in Quito today, but I had to decline because my host parents have family members coming into town with a car who were going to take us to Mindo! I had been looking forward to this all week because this is where I’ve wanted to go SO much! Then, last night, my host mom says she has bad news and I knew right away, her family isn’t coming so we can’t go. I was extremely disappointed but didn’t show my host mom because she was also sad that her family member isn’t coming to the baby’s birthday party this weekend. So we slept in this morning and then I want to go to Quito for the market and lunch, I’m not sure yet if my host family is going to come with. I’m trying not to be upset about it and just focus on the fun stuff we did this week. There will be other times to go to Mindo.

(10 hours later) Such a good day. So glad I didn’t let the canceled trip bring me down. Though I’ve been to the capital, Quito, many times for training and once with my family, today was the first day that I got to slow down and really enjoy it. We wandered around the artisan market for a couple hours and ran into some other volunteers. We went to 3 different malls looking for this particular baby store, and man! The malls in Quito are outrageously nice! Quicentro is Fashion Valley status, with Tiffany’s and Tommy Hilfigher and the whole 9. Then you travel a couple hours to the pueblo and all you can do is laugh at the distribution of wealth. Anyway, then we saw Parque de Carolina and ate Colombian food on my Colombian friend, Carolina’s birthday! What a coincidence! Cumpleanos feliz, Caro! 

Anywhozer, yeah, I had wanted to take my host family out to dinner to say thank you before I leave for my site so I offered to buy lunch since we would be in the capital today. I’m so glad I did because I never would have found this delicious little Colombian place, S’pan’sy. I had never eaten Colombian food before so I was dumbfounded by the menu. My host mom ordered some little things for me to try so we shared some empanadas, which were different than the Ecuadorian kind; aperos, which are flat doughy breads with different sides, mine had guacamole, cheese, and hogao, which is like salsa but tangy; morcillo, which my host dad insisted that I try before they explain what it is, because it’s a pig’s intestine filled with rice cooked in pig’s blood, it was pretty good; bunuelos, which are little fried dough balls; and REALLY YUMMY hot chocolate! We walked around the Mariscal (the fun touristy district) at dusk, which was beautiful.

Then we did some grocery shopping and came home around 9:00 and had ice cream sandwiches and raspberry tea for dinner. Tomorrow I’m making strawberry cream cheese crepes for breakfast and then my host mom and I are going to get haircuts and paint our nails and drink sangria and finish the goody bags for Ayllin’s party. I’m so excited! Not just excited about having a silly, girly day, but because I can truly say that now I have a lot of fun just hanging out with my host family. I’ve always loved spending time with them because I learn SO much, but now, it feels like I’m hanging out with friends. We have inside jokes and we tease each other and I just feel comfortable, even when I’m butchering their language, they understand. There’s nothing in the world quite like having good friends.

Thank you for reading. And thank you for being good friends.

Abrazos, 

creepy, life-sized pre-Colonial indigenous guy

Chels

don´t look into their eyes!

sooooo high

Here comes Catholicism!

Parque de Carolina

Chillin´ with my homegirls

Home.

It doesn’t have the same meaning in Spanish. You can say “casa”, but to me, that describes a physical structure or location. “Hogar” is household. Something a little closer might be “mi patria”, which is homeland, and has a bit of pride behind it. The dictionary tells me “homesick” in Spanish is “nostalgica”, which doesn’t quite cut it for me. But when I think of the word, “home” in English, it’s an emotion, a sentiment, an entity, a feeling that’s hard to describe. In my mind, it has no connection to a place, but instead, to people, and how I feel when I’m surrounded by them. In fact, I don’t even think of the US when I think of home. Being here is the first time I’ve felt such possession of mi patria, as everyone refers to it as “my country”. “Do they serve the food like this in your country?” “How do they greet each other in your country?” “I have heard they are very fat in your country.” Por ejemplo.

I have just started to feel a sense of home in Tumbaco with my wonderful host family, and now I will start all over again in a few short weeks. I visited my new home of Pujili last week and practiced the art of flexibility, while the Universe attempted to test my patience. One morning, I was inches (centimeters maybe) from my first cry in Ecuador, but, with the help of a sweet old lady, I quickly snapped out of it. I will try to relay the events preceding without whining.

As much as I love dogs, everyone knows, I’m a cat person at heart, mostly due to my fondness for tranquility. I also tend to worry. Way. Too. Much. And worry even more when I’m unable to plan ahead for the outcome. That’s not to say that I don’t love change or that I have a fear of the unknown, just that I like to imagine the future and weigh all the possible consequences. And, so far I’ve been lucky enough to have a host family who takes very good care of me and takes every precaution to keep me healthy.

Monday, all of the counterparts came to the training center to attend some workshops with the trainees and then take them to site on Tuesday. My counterpart decided he wanted to leave Monday night since my new site is so close. Okay, I can do that. I’m a Peace Corps volunteer, my middle name is flexible. Monday afternoon as we were getting ready to leave, my counterpart informs me that he will be searching for a new host family, I will no longer live in the small apartment with the teachers and the toddler as my site paperwork indicates. Okay… I can do that… but where will I stay this week and how will I get my assignments done with a family? I’ll stay with my counterpart and his family for 2 days, then test out a new family for 2 days, then come back to my counterpart’s house for 2 days. Okay… I can do that… with a little more hesitation.

My counterpart’s house is beautiful, in the center of the town, and he has the nicest family in the world. The water in the shower was not just hot, it was scalding, and I let it burn my back for a good 30 minutes. They have a maid who is a great cook and I stayed in the 8 year-old little boy’s room, who would read me Disney stories in Spanish before bed.

I get to my potential new house and it is COLD, I sleep in my potential host mom’s room who loves that her mattress feels like sleeping on cement, with at least 5 blankets. I get up in the morning and take a shower in COLD water as I couldn’t figure out the heat, my teeth chattering so hard I thought they would break. I desperately wanted to blow dry my hair (and my entire body) when my potential host brother (11 years-old) came into my room (without knocking) to say that I needed to come eat breakfast. I sat down and my potential host grandmother fed me a burnt scrambled egg from her chickens in the back, unwashed fruit, and instant coffee in water. As I was halfway through, they needed to leave as my grandmother needed to walk the grandson to school. The second she left, the 3 small, yappy, grumpy dogs began barking and trying to bite my feet and persisted for 10 straight minutes. I started to get that overwhelming feeling in my chest and throat and just as my eyes were about to well with tears, my host grandmother came back in, yelled at the dogs, and told me that when I was finished, she would also walk me to school so I wouldn’t get lost. And she did. One block away. Arm in arm. Thank goodness for the silly kindness of old people.

Over the next couple days, I learned how to maneuver the shower, I had really good, productive days with the awesome teachers at my school, I accompanied my potential family (who are so sweet) to Catholic mass at the gorgeous church in my town, I scaled the 584 steps of the Sinchaguasin mountain to get a picturesque view of my city, a friendly person at the municipal office gave me several maps, I helped put makeup on the girls of the dance team and watched them win a folkloric dance competition, I went to a spontaneous reggae concert, I tried 2 new fruits, I climbed down and then up the famous Crater Lake, Quilotoa, and I felt wanted and needed by the people of my community, who expressed their hope and anticipation.

I think that I’ll end up feeling right at home.

El Danzante headpiece. Traditionally 200 pounds. This one was obviously not.

Folkloric Dance Team

My Vanna White skills, showing off Pujili

Quilotoa

Super cansados after hiking back up from the lake

Magnificent.

Where We Be

March 7, 2013. Yesterday, as we were walking home together, I wished the other volunteers “happy Christmas Eve” as we departed to our respective homes. Today was site assignment day! Basically, the most important day of training, when we find out where we’ll live and work for the full 2 years. This is an anticipation that has been building for years for most of us. To finally get a glimpse of what our Peace Corps experience will be like.

There was a huge ceremony in which the training staff dressed up in traditional indigenous garb from each region and announced our provinces in a microphone as they escorted us on our metaphorical first visit to site, a map of the country outlined in rose petals on the soccer field. It was a beautiful event and I really appreciate the effort the staff put into making it special for us. I will admit that I have been crossing my fingers for a site on the coast for a lot of reasons, but it was not in the cards for me and I was okay with that.

I will be living in a small town about 20 minutes outside the city of Latacunga in the Cotopaxi province! I’m so excited! It’s high up in the mountains and very cold but close to some very interesting places- the famous crater lake, Quilotoa, and the Cotopaxi volcano, which I’m hoping to train to climb. I’m so excited! My housing paperwork says I’ll be living in my own small apartment in my host family’s compound. My host dad is a literature professor and host mom is also a high school teacher, they have a 3 year-old daughter and 2 dogs. I’m so excited! Apparently my town is 30% indigenous, Kichwa-speaking people, so I’ll need to learn at least a little of the language. The high school I’ll be working in is an all-boys technical school- that will be interesting. And I guess we have a small artisan market in the town as well. I’M SO EXCITED! Can you tell?!

I’ll be very sad to leave my current host family but it’s really nice that I’m only about 2 hours away from them so I can come visit. My host mom has already insisted that I come on the weekends and she’ll feed me and do my laundry. She is so much like my real mom, it makes me happy. Baby Ayllen’s birthday is tomorrow but her party isn’t for another couple weeks so tomorrow will just be a small family lunch and some cake. I’m going to blow up a bunch of balloons and put them out in the kitchen before they wake up in the morning. She loves balloons! But mostly loves to eat them.

We had a party at one of the volunteers’ houses last night to celebrate site placement, it was a lot of fun, very much like an American party. The last party was a lot of dancing, a lot of Spanish music, and just some chips and cookies, we even ran out of alcohol. This time we had tons of pizza and booze and even did a beer run half-way through. We played King’s Cup, Flip Cup, and Beer Pong, it was so nice to have a little piece of the US, party-style. The volunteer who lives there is friends with some of the local police officers so they were there too and I got to talking to one of them, he practiced his English and me my Spanish. He asked a lot of questions about the US and even learned all of the drinking games. At the end of the party, he asked for my number! He said he wants me to teach him how to surf, but we were already instructed during training that an invitation to the coast means an invitation to bed. I wasn’t interested and I’m not going to go out with him but I was excited because I felt like I was able to communicate well enough to actually get along with a local! Honestly, I have been worried about making friends because it’s such a necessity in my life, but I’m a little bit more confident now.

We’ll be visiting our sites next week to meet our counterparts and stay with our families. I’ll definitely update after.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. Abrazos y besos.

Chels

We be Tech Trippin´

We departed on Monday morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (what does this allude to in your mind? I picture a squirrel). Anyway, like I was saying, here we are, squirrels in Ibarra, ready for adventure, with a full schedule in hand and hope in our hearts. 

First day: we meet a bunch of teachers and co-plan lessons for the next day. This turned out to be my first (of many, likely) run-in’s with a slight difference of opinion in terms of religion. Being an atheist in a predominantly Catholic country, in which I am supposed to integrate, I had already prepared myself for this situation and decided to react when the time comes based on the situation (but 9 times out of 10 I will probably just lie my @$$ off). So, I meet my co-teacher and before we start the work, I receive the usual line of questioning “are you married?” “do you miss your family?” “why did you leave?” “which state are you from?” (in that order) and then I get the ever-feared “are you a Christian?” This time, I figured “what the hay, I’m gonna spend 3 days at this school, this guy seems nice, he keeps calling me ‘my darling’, I’ll just be honest and see what happens”. I respond “well, I don’t have a religion”. Immediate regret. “Impossible!” he says. To which I reply, “so how about that verb, ‘to be’?!” I was later introduced to a class of 45 teenagers in this manner: “This is Chelsea. She’s 26, not married, no babies and left her whole family in the United States. Chelsea, would you like to introduce yourself a little?” Me: “Well. Um. I’m from California. My city is close to Hollywood, which is where they make movies in the US” Later that day, the students were asking for my autograph. Chelsea for the win.

Anywhozer, day two comes along and WHAM! Along with it comes reality! And reality’s name is Montezuma’s Revenge. After I got done with a bunch of classes, I felt a little queasy but thought I just needed to eat so I grabbed a quick sandwich at KFC (which, by the way, is HUGE here) and immediately started getting really sharp pains in the top part of my stomach, to the point that it hurt to take a deep breath. We were sitting around waiting for all of the volunteers to be done with class and it started to get progressively worse. I felt like I might pass out so one of the facilitators walked me back to the hotel. I laid down for about 2 minutes and then ran to the bathroom, I really thought I was going to vomit, but nothing happened. I went back to bed and got the worst fever, chills, and achiness that I’ve had in a long time! I was shivering under the blankets in a cold sweat for hours, unable to sleep because of the nausea. This proceeded through the night and the entire next day. I couldn’t even walk across the room without feeling exhausted. My fellow volunteers came to check on me and brought me water, tea, bread, and crackers throughout Wednesday and Thursday and I missed out on all the fun (apparently they went to an artist’s house and drank pure sugar cane and then went to a museum where they used to sacrifice humans! Ugh). I slept through the couple of days, waking up with an extreme headache and persistent nausea to watch TV (omg they had 3 English channels with Spanish subtitles, including Friends marathons!). Finally, I’m recovering a bit and actually leave the hotel to join the volunteers for dinner Thursday night, though I just drank water, and I’m convinced I’m on the road to recovery. I wake up on Friday morning and my entire upper half is covered in a rash. En serio?! But the nausea is gone and I eat 2 pieces of bread for breakfast! 

So Friday, we head to Otavalo and visit a school called “Unidad Educativa del Milenio”, which is a really nice, high tech school that the President commissioned. The kids were SO cute and so smart and motivated, they were trying to ask us questions in English and get us to play games with them during recess. I’m so glad I was well enough to enjoy this field trip. Then we headed to the famous market (that I’ve already visited) to shop a little and have lunch. Then the trek home. Arriving close to 6. I told my host mom all about it and before I could even finish the story, she was squeezing limes and making chamomile tea and chicken soup for me. (Yeah, she made me drink a half glass of pure lime juice, you should have seen the terrible faces I was making.)

I am painstakingly cautious of the foods I eat and the water I drink here and I can NOT for the life of me figure out what caused this bout, which included what I dubbed “the death phase” when I thought I would not recover. I have decided to attribute it to all the times that I said “yeah, I can’t believe I haven’t been sick yet!” I must not have knocked on wood immediately after one of those times. Though, I do find it an interesting coincidence that I had just confessed my lack of faith to an unenthused believer. Whether it was a work of superstition or the scorn of some deity, in the face of that illness, I may now be a God-fearing atheist. 

Take care. And don’t drink the water.

<3 Chels

p.s. I have just finished an entire pot of tea and my host mom just came in my room to tell me that she’ll be right back, she needs to give the neighbor an injection. I definitely believe in saints.

My death bed

The view from my death bed

I swear I didn´t force them to take the photo, they were actually asking for a picture