Last night in a crowded, smoky bar in Quito, Ecuador, surrounded by my fellow americans and ecuadorian friends, I watched as Barack Obama was elected president and history was made. I will never forget this election, where I was and how in one evening I felt my faith in my country renewed. I was really taken by the strong sense of community that I felt among americans living abroad- united by a shared hope for a better future. Over beers and conversations, we cheered and speculated as election results came in and eventually when the results were tallied and Obama was named president we cried and hugged and high-fived with joy and relief.
This is my third presidential election in which I was able to vote and my first time in which I felt such hope for positive change. I am very proud to say that I voted for barack obama and that even though voting here in ecuador as a peace corps volunteer was quite difficult I was able to jump through all that red tape and fill out my ballot and have my say. Cheers to the next four years!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
random photos
Kids brigadeThis is something I had to write up for Peace Corps about the kids group and art class that I do in my town.
The Kids Brigade is a part of our Youth Group, Neo Juventud that is directed towards children ages 5- 12. The goal is to employ the use of non-formal education to create a creative learning environment that focuses on teaching values, critical thinking, developing leadership skills, increasing self-esteem and environmental consciousness. The children are split into two groups based on age and each group meets once a week for an hour and a half to two hours. Currently there are about 50 active participants.
My personal goal for the Kids Brigade is to provide a safe place for children to learn and express themselves without fear of making a mistake or embarrassment.
Our educational activities follow several themes: health, the environment, self-esteem and human values. We discuss the subject and do a follow-up hands on activity, the children have time to ask questions or share: the Kids Brigade is not school and our meetings are an open conversation. Afterwards we always play: we go outside and run around, play games and sing songs.
After about six months of running the Kids Brigade I started an experimental art class that meets once a week. At first no one came and I was really confused: what kid doesn’t love glitter, glue and colored paper? Then I realized that the children had never had art class before and simply didn’t know what I was talking about but after I clearly explained what art class was, attendance began to grow. The art class is open to anyone, so I have children as old as 13 and as young as 4 (sometimes even teenagers). When we first began, the children were horrified at the idea of drawing without an eraser and a ruler, they kept asking, “What if I make a mistake?”. They had learned that art meant copying whatever their teacher had drawn and the concept of mistakes being a catalyst for beautiful art rather than a source of shame was scary at first.
Since the beginning of the Kids Brigade and art class I have seen some amazing changes in these children. There were children who were too shy to speak but now they are confident enough to greet adults and when we pass in the street, they run up and give me a hug. There were kids who simply wouldn’t participate for fear of screwing up and now they are active members who share ideas and help me plan activities. Specifically I have witnessed a complete turnaround in some of my pre-teen girls. I had several young girls who would come but would never participate. They would just turn in blank papers or the materials for the art project without having even tried to complete it. When I asked them why, they told me they didn’t know how or they were just bad at drawing. It took awhile but everyone participates now. This seemingly small effort is a big step and I am so proud of them. Also one of my newest participants is 13 and mute. When he first started coming to art class the rest of the children kept trying to do his work for him and kept informing that Jhony couldn’t do the project. They really wanted to protect him but I insisted that Jhony was responsible and capable of participating in the class and that my expectations were no different for Jhony than any other kid. Jhony rose to the occasion. Last week we made hemp bracelets and Jhony’s was by far the best and he was so proud and the rest of the kids kept asking to see his and he was helping them with their bracelets. The Jhony I met four months earlier followed the others and last week he was leading.
the mangroves
The MangrovesPalmar has the only mangrove in the province of Santa Elena and one of the few left in Ecuador. Until I came to this small seaside village I had never set foot in a mangrove or thought much about them and even now I am only just beginning to learn. I may not understand everything about this fragile eco-system but I know that each time I enter it’s muddy heart I am transformed.
I’ve always loved stories of children entering strange lands through magical books or wardrobes and the mangrove is just that for me: a strange and magical land.
To enter on foot you must trudge through narrow paths of deep mud that can reach as high as your waist and climb through a maze of twisted roots ( the mangroves are the only species of trees with roots that grow above ground). It is not easy. It’s beautiful.
Mangroves are incredibly biologically diverse: there are hundreds of species of fish, crabs, snails, birds and insects that live within it’s boarders. In recent years shocking numbers of mangrove forests have been destroyed in order to make room for shrimp farms and the eco-system is in serious danger- especially here in Palmar.
The story of the destruction of the mangroves is a very important one- but I am not writing about that today. I am writing about the cool of the black mud on my skin and the way tiny violin crabs feel as they crawl across my toes. I am writing about the strange growls of birds that loom below the deep shadows of green leaves and the damp, bitter smell of decomposition.
I am writing about Sunday morning on my knees, digging into the muddy earth to plant more trees so a new forest can rise.
Yesterday I hiked into the mangroves at low tide with Miguel, Marcelo, Salo, Juan, Milton and Luigi. We gathered about 100 seeds to plant inside the forest. There are four species of mangrove trees in our small sector and there are different seeds in accordance to the different trees. The majority of the seeds that we collected were for the red mangrove: the seed is roughly seven inches long and the shape of a thin carrot, the bottom is a reddish brownish that turns to a deep green at the tip. We carried the seeds through the forest to a strange vacant plot of land where years ago all the trees had been cut down for a shrimp farm that no longer is in business. Our goal is to reforest that entire plot of land.
It’s important to understand that planting requires a fair amount of effort: one must dig a hole about seven inches wide and 10 inches deep and that the top layer of earth is hard and dry while the mud below is thick and heavy clay and in that one hole, only two seeds may be planted. After the seeds are all planted the hole needs to be partially filled with water so that the seeds don’t dry out right away in the heat and die. The entire process took us about four hours and we re-planted less than 1/4 of the space. But we will be back.
After working, we all went for a swim to clean off the layers of mud in the tide pool that becomes a small lake as the tide fills in. It felt so wonderful to just let the water make us all clean again and I imagined the seeds taking root in the quiet dark mud and how years from now I will be gone but the trees will grow and become homes for all kinds of creatures and redeem the destruction and mistakes of the past. As we left the fisherman were just arriving in their wooden boats named after saints and women, filled with red plastic buckets of fish followed by streams of gulls and pelicans.
Walking the beach back home, salt on my skin and mud in my hair I felt content and alive. This is the life I choose.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Adventures in Dentistry
A group of catholic doctors and volunteers from LA came to Palmar a few weeks ago: equipped with bags full of needed medicine, medical equipment, candy bars and the energy to work hard. While they spoke English and Korean no one spoke Spanish. While we may smile in the same language, phrases like, "please pull out the second to the last tooth on the left side of my lower jaw" can get a little more complicated. So I got to translate and even dabble a bit in what i like to call, dentistry 101. With the Korean nun speaking Korean and Spanish and me speaking English and Spanish we managed to communicate and have a pretty good time.
Much to my surprise, my duties went way beyond that of translating as I actually assisted the dentist and got to take a trial run at a career as a dental hygienist. ( which for the record = not my cup of tea). While I lack the correct vocabulary, I can tell you that I mastered the art of the air-puffing tool, the mirror-lip re tractor and the tiny stitches scissor. I admit that the first tooth removal was a bit rough-- the unnatural crack of bone followed by the raw gum, pooling with blood, pomegranate red and then how he flung the chunks of rotten tooth like discarded movie popcorn left me a little unsteady but after that I started to almost enjoy watching the dentist yank on the tooth like it were a stubborn nail, deeply rooted weed or a stuck door.
But the best moments for me were being able to serve as a mediator between the patient and the doctor. It was amazing to really comfort people by explaining what exactly was wrong and how it could be fixed, to help connect them to their doctor and answer their questions while holding their hands.The best day was our last afternoon. We went adentro, about 20 minutes to a town with a greater need for medical attention where even without electricity we managed to serve 70 people before night fall. As you can imagine, dentistry in particular is kind of rough without electricity but we managed. The dentist told me that the conditions in palmar were worse than he experienced working in the missions in Korea in the 1970s.
It was a really exhausting week but so worth it and an amazing experience.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
crickets, baby showers and visits!!!
June 8
Sunday morning coffee and Paul Simon singing You can call me Al. Last few months have been cockroach invasion— I mean almost every night I would wake up with a cockroach running across my face ( and I even tuck my net under my mattress- they must have tiny tools). Now it’s not the worst thing– they are not rats, black widow spiders or scorpions but they suck. Anyway– as seasons change so do my insect problems- before the cockroaches were mass amounts of ants, flies, mosquitos and now......... ( drum roll please)............ crickets/ grasshoppers! Which are by far the best insect to have except that they jump high and come outta nowhere and they don’t mind jumping on me which always freaks me out. But they are kind of cute and so we live here together in harmony.
Last week my friend had her baby shower which I helped with and it was really quite an experience for me. I’m not really a big fan of organized social events with games and forced participation but everything is still new to me here and I wanted to help out so I went happily. 
Sunday morning coffee and Paul Simon singing You can call me Al. Last few months have been cockroach invasion— I mean almost every night I would wake up with a cockroach running across my face ( and I even tuck my net under my mattress- they must have tiny tools). Now it’s not the worst thing– they are not rats, black widow spiders or scorpions but they suck. Anyway– as seasons change so do my insect problems- before the cockroaches were mass amounts of ants, flies, mosquitos and now......... ( drum roll please)............ crickets/ grasshoppers! Which are by far the best insect to have except that they jump high and come outta nowhere and they don’t mind jumping on me which always freaks me out. But they are kind of cute and so we live here together in harmony.
Last week my friend had her baby shower which I helped with and it was really quite an experience for me. I’m not really a big fan of organized social events with games and forced participation but everything is still new to me here and I wanted to help out so I went happily. 
Here in Ecuador there exists the hora ecuatoriana or the Ecuadorian hour which any Ecuadorian appears to instinctually understand while foreigners flounder. It’s the concept of showing up an hour or four hours or even days late to any given event or meeting and it’s okay, you don’t need a pass or an excuse or anything- you get to greet everyone and sit down and that is that. So while the party started at 2:30 even the guest of honor didn’t show up until 4:30. I actually really like the hora ecuatoriana because you don’t every have to do that American thing of being in a crazy hurry where you shove food down your throat and run like mad to your next destination. But this sense of time is tricky because sometimes it is implied that you better be there on time and everyone else gets this but I miss the hint and show up late and feel like an idiot. Anyway the party got started around 5:30 and involved games where you couldn’t cross your arms or legs and if you did the girl that sees you can still your flower pin ( which they gave at the beginning) needless to say I lost my flower pin at about 6:00.
To my credit I actually arrived at 2:30 so I had to compete longer than the other girls. There were games where baby food was feed using blindfolds,diapers where pinned on paper babies, peach wine was drunk from baby bottles, the Mom to be’s belly was measured with toilet paper etc and all of this mixed in with random dance sessions where cumbia and merengue were blasted and all the ladies got up and shook it. Later dinner and cake were served and all the presents opened. It was a nice party ( even for a girl who is not that into organized social gatherings). 
My mom and sister came and visited for the last two weeks of May which was wonderful! The spent four days in Palmar where they got meet lots of people and really get to know the town. The people of Palmar really reached out to my family and we barely had to cook a meal because someone was always bringing us fresh fish or inviting us to lunch. The kids from Neo Juventud took my family for a boat ride through the mangroves and threw a welcome party where we sang kareoke and ate so yummy food. The ninos brigadistas came and met my family and we played some games and the kids had a great time practicing their English. On Wednesday we attended the festivals of Saint Rita our saint which involved a really long outside mass, burning castles and the vaca loca which is a cardboard cow that shoots off fireworks and the castle is a huge structure with spinning flaming starts that shoot off fireworks as well. Afterwards is a community dance and a dance for the younger generation. After Palmar we ventured up the Ruta del Sol where we stayed a great eco-lodge and went to some beautiful beaches after that we headed to the Cuenca in the Sierra. Cuenca is an idyllic city that brings to mind eastern Europe and parts of Spain. It was really great having my family here and so hard to say good-bye at the airport. Well— there is so much more to say but I am going to stop here. 
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Update from Palmar
April 16th
Tonight is the town meeting where the Nun, the presidents of each of the 10 barrios, leaders of local businesses and groups will meet to begin planning the Fiestas de Palmar which will be held on may 21 and 22nd. It is supposed to begin at 8pm which in Ecuador means come at 9:30, but I am still supergringa and I will show up what we Americans call- casually late but here in Ecuador is still too early. But, hey, I always come prepared with a book to read ( currently Confessions of an Economic Hit Man- which is really good by the way) or I will just chat it up with the half dozen other “early” birds.
Yesterday I met with the parents of the children receiving scholarships through the Guayaquil Archdiosis to fill out forms with the new parents and note all of the school supply requests they had. Friday I will go to Libertad ( the nearest city) with the Senora Andrea to buy as much as we can afford with the money allotted: mostly shoes, backpacks and material to make uniforms. It was really great to get to meet all of the parents at one time and it was great because I ended up more or less running the meeting by myself and afterwards- I realized that I did just fine and that I would have not have been able to do that 10 months ago when I first arrived in this country.( thats right- 10 MONTHS BABY- only 17 to go). The moms all call me Nina Hannah which I love, while the word nina means little girl, Ecuadorians use it to mean “Miss” and something about it always makes me smile. These scholarships are so very important and they are a big deal as there are only 25 slots in a town with a population of 7000 most of whom are kids and families without the extra cash that schools require. It’s not uncommon for 10 and 11 year olds to drop out of school because their families just do not have enough money.
Otherwise life continues here and as time passes I grow more and more comfortable here and am understanding better my place and what and how I can best contribute. The two biggest plans that I am working on are developing a club for moms that would provide an opportunity for new mothers and more experienced mothers to meet and share concerns, advice, remedies and support each other. Also work with local health professionals and have them give health- nutrition workshops with the moms and perhaps small business training-leadership. Also I have been studying up on Community Banks and am nearly ready to begin the process of starting several with several groups here in Palmar. We continue to give workshops on HIV-AIDs-- the other month I wrote about how we set up the ambulance and 20 people were tested. I don´t know, it never really occurred to me that any of the results would be positive. We give these talks and run these workshops, we have parades on World AIDs Day but this disease is not backing down. We tested 20 people that Saturday morning and several tested positive... what about the thousands of other people we didn´t test? Who don´t want to be tested. Who are scared to be tested. Who still aren´t sure what AIDS really is and how it isn´t something faraway but right in their own tiny fishing village.
Well, the town meeting is going to start in 15 minutes (or an hour) but either way I should be on my way.
“ A woman is like a tea leaf. When she is in hot water, she just gets stronger,” Eleanor Roosevelt
I am only one
I am only one,
But, still,
I am one.
I cannot do
everything.
But, still,
I can do
something.
I
will not refuse
to do
the something
I can do.
-Helen Keller
Tonight is the town meeting where the Nun, the presidents of each of the 10 barrios, leaders of local businesses and groups will meet to begin planning the Fiestas de Palmar which will be held on may 21 and 22nd. It is supposed to begin at 8pm which in Ecuador means come at 9:30, but I am still supergringa and I will show up what we Americans call- casually late but here in Ecuador is still too early. But, hey, I always come prepared with a book to read ( currently Confessions of an Economic Hit Man- which is really good by the way) or I will just chat it up with the half dozen other “early” birds.
Yesterday I met with the parents of the children receiving scholarships through the Guayaquil Archdiosis to fill out forms with the new parents and note all of the school supply requests they had. Friday I will go to Libertad ( the nearest city) with the Senora Andrea to buy as much as we can afford with the money allotted: mostly shoes, backpacks and material to make uniforms. It was really great to get to meet all of the parents at one time and it was great because I ended up more or less running the meeting by myself and afterwards- I realized that I did just fine and that I would have not have been able to do that 10 months ago when I first arrived in this country.( thats right- 10 MONTHS BABY- only 17 to go). The moms all call me Nina Hannah which I love, while the word nina means little girl, Ecuadorians use it to mean “Miss” and something about it always makes me smile. These scholarships are so very important and they are a big deal as there are only 25 slots in a town with a population of 7000 most of whom are kids and families without the extra cash that schools require. It’s not uncommon for 10 and 11 year olds to drop out of school because their families just do not have enough money.
Otherwise life continues here and as time passes I grow more and more comfortable here and am understanding better my place and what and how I can best contribute. The two biggest plans that I am working on are developing a club for moms that would provide an opportunity for new mothers and more experienced mothers to meet and share concerns, advice, remedies and support each other. Also work with local health professionals and have them give health- nutrition workshops with the moms and perhaps small business training-leadership. Also I have been studying up on Community Banks and am nearly ready to begin the process of starting several with several groups here in Palmar. We continue to give workshops on HIV-AIDs-- the other month I wrote about how we set up the ambulance and 20 people were tested. I don´t know, it never really occurred to me that any of the results would be positive. We give these talks and run these workshops, we have parades on World AIDs Day but this disease is not backing down. We tested 20 people that Saturday morning and several tested positive... what about the thousands of other people we didn´t test? Who don´t want to be tested. Who are scared to be tested. Who still aren´t sure what AIDS really is and how it isn´t something faraway but right in their own tiny fishing village.
Well, the town meeting is going to start in 15 minutes (or an hour) but either way I should be on my way.
“ A woman is like a tea leaf. When she is in hot water, she just gets stronger,” Eleanor Roosevelt
I am only one
I am only one,
But, still,
I am one.
I cannot do
everything.
But, still,
I can do
something.
I
will not refuse
to do
the something
I can do.
-Helen Keller
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Monday in Palmar
Monday in Palmar
The Nun, nurse, doctor and I drove the ambulance/van to the market and set up a tent to test people for AIDS. The nun and I chatted up passing people: guys on bikes, guys hauling chickens, married couples out to buy cilantro and potatoes and did our very best to encourage them to sign their name and climb into our ambulance/van and let the nurse take their blood. I felt a little bit like a cult member but rather than tracts about spaceships, I was trying to get people to find out if they were infected with a very real, devastating and fatal virus. AIDS is a really scary thing and people weren’t too eager to talk about it much less hop in our van and give us their blood. The nun was pretty amazing. She was really assertive and managed to get quite a few people to get tested, at first I wasn’t sure how I felt about her tactics but her motives were so obviously good that I think people got tested because they really respect her and her opinion. I on the other hand did my own thing, which was smiling a lot. This tactic works wonders with the men. In fact there was one guy who wasn’t going to get tested but he took the test and actually came back and bought me a yogurt afterwards. In all we got 20 something people to get tested that morning and maybe it’s not a lot but it felt good and I know the nun was happy and I was too.
The afternoon was four hours in the quail pen cleaning out months of quail poop and feathers, at one point I even rocked the machete ( it serves well as a tool to scrape off quail poop) and best of all I am pretty much over my fear of fowl. I still don’t really like holding birds of any kind and while I will most likely never own a chicken farm, I am okay with it.
Now after a long, cold and soapy shower I am so very aware that my life here is indeed a strange and amazing life. And I am very blessed to be able to encourage people to value their health and happy to clean up quail poop ( once in awhile anyway).
The Nun, nurse, doctor and I drove the ambulance/van to the market and set up a tent to test people for AIDS. The nun and I chatted up passing people: guys on bikes, guys hauling chickens, married couples out to buy cilantro and potatoes and did our very best to encourage them to sign their name and climb into our ambulance/van and let the nurse take their blood. I felt a little bit like a cult member but rather than tracts about spaceships, I was trying to get people to find out if they were infected with a very real, devastating and fatal virus. AIDS is a really scary thing and people weren’t too eager to talk about it much less hop in our van and give us their blood. The nun was pretty amazing. She was really assertive and managed to get quite a few people to get tested, at first I wasn’t sure how I felt about her tactics but her motives were so obviously good that I think people got tested because they really respect her and her opinion. I on the other hand did my own thing, which was smiling a lot. This tactic works wonders with the men. In fact there was one guy who wasn’t going to get tested but he took the test and actually came back and bought me a yogurt afterwards. In all we got 20 something people to get tested that morning and maybe it’s not a lot but it felt good and I know the nun was happy and I was too.
The afternoon was four hours in the quail pen cleaning out months of quail poop and feathers, at one point I even rocked the machete ( it serves well as a tool to scrape off quail poop) and best of all I am pretty much over my fear of fowl. I still don’t really like holding birds of any kind and while I will most likely never own a chicken farm, I am okay with it.
Now after a long, cold and soapy shower I am so very aware that my life here is indeed a strange and amazing life. And I am very blessed to be able to encourage people to value their health and happy to clean up quail poop ( once in awhile anyway).
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Almost Pretty Funny ( surviving robbery, landslides and bus accidents)
Let's get one thing straight here... I survived.
I am alive. I am safe and typing this from the peace corps office where now as I take the crazy series of events into perspective I can conclude that this past week is almost pretty funny.
First of all nothing that happened to me this week in the scheme of life is really that big of a deal but
still... but if I don't enjoy the drama a bit it might just bring me down.
Okay, the weather here has been a bit, shall we say..... damp. Floods, landslides, mudslides... damaging amounts of rain have inundated the southern half of Ecuador (ie where I live). Last week I had to travel to Quito for Reconnect (an official Peace Corps meeting) and our bus was in some kind of accident. This accident remains vague because I was fast asleep when we were flung up into the air and came crashing back down into our seats. The bus suffered the most damages ( ask me about my elbow) and we ended up waiting about 4 hours for it to get fixed and then we continued towards Quito... alright long story short not one but two landslides kept us backed up for hours and my 12 hour bus ride became a 19 hour bus ride. But we arrived in Quito. I made it.
After several days of meetings and workshops we were unable to return to our sites because many of the roads had been closed and the President had declared a national state of emergency so PARTY. We stayed in Quito on the Peace Corps tab but being the hardcore volunteers that we are my friend and I used the extra time to plan a leadership conference for scholarship girls.
Well, yesterday on the very crowded trolley to the bus station to buy our tickets back to our sites-- the police came on and arrested a thief. I was like, dang, close call.... However as I was leaving the trolley I realize that my bag has been slashed and my atm card, my ecua-atm card, copy of my passport, my cell phone, and 40 dollars were gone. It is quite something to lose everything you own of economic value in minutes and not even realize it was happening. It is humbling and of course.. you are reading this and perhaps thinking (perhaps not) what the heck was I thinking carrying all my cards and money in one place. I know. Dios mio, I know.
Well... here's to surviving and laughing about it and knowing that in the end none of this is a big deal.
I am alive. I am safe and typing this from the peace corps office where now as I take the crazy series of events into perspective I can conclude that this past week is almost pretty funny.
First of all nothing that happened to me this week in the scheme of life is really that big of a deal but
still... but if I don't enjoy the drama a bit it might just bring me down.
Okay, the weather here has been a bit, shall we say..... damp. Floods, landslides, mudslides... damaging amounts of rain have inundated the southern half of Ecuador (ie where I live). Last week I had to travel to Quito for Reconnect (an official Peace Corps meeting) and our bus was in some kind of accident. This accident remains vague because I was fast asleep when we were flung up into the air and came crashing back down into our seats. The bus suffered the most damages ( ask me about my elbow) and we ended up waiting about 4 hours for it to get fixed and then we continued towards Quito... alright long story short not one but two landslides kept us backed up for hours and my 12 hour bus ride became a 19 hour bus ride. But we arrived in Quito. I made it.
After several days of meetings and workshops we were unable to return to our sites because many of the roads had been closed and the President had declared a national state of emergency so PARTY. We stayed in Quito on the Peace Corps tab but being the hardcore volunteers that we are my friend and I used the extra time to plan a leadership conference for scholarship girls.
Well, yesterday on the very crowded trolley to the bus station to buy our tickets back to our sites-- the police came on and arrested a thief. I was like, dang, close call.... However as I was leaving the trolley I realize that my bag has been slashed and my atm card, my ecua-atm card, copy of my passport, my cell phone, and 40 dollars were gone. It is quite something to lose everything you own of economic value in minutes and not even realize it was happening. It is humbling and of course.. you are reading this and perhaps thinking (perhaps not) what the heck was I thinking carrying all my cards and money in one place. I know. Dios mio, I know.
Well... here's to surviving and laughing about it and knowing that in the end none of this is a big deal.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Me and Margarita + 20 hours on a bus + 300 quails= 30 hours
7 hours into our 9 hour trip to Santo Domingo, I’m sweating on a steamy bus with a jammed window that no matter how hard I pull, I cannot open and the more I try the more sweaty I get, so I give up. Surrender to the heat.. Enjoy the brief breezes that sweep in when the bus door opens to let more passengers on or off and little kids selling frozen coco water, oranges and clear plastic bags of skinned slivers of yellow mangos. My traveling companion, Margarita is a member of Neo Juventud the group of young people that I work with here in palmar. We left that morning at 7:30 to make the 9 hour trip to Santo Domingo de los Tsachilas to buy and bring back 300 quails and return that same night. Margarita turns to me and laughs, “Hope it doesn’t rain.”
It began to pour about an hour outside of Santo Domingo. We arrived at the bus terminal in the rain where we caught a taxi with a driver that seemed to kind of sort of know where we were going. He stopped about every block and a half to ask the best looking woman within earshot for directions; 6:30 pm and about 7 curvy ladies later we pulled up to the house of the couple who would sell us our 300 quails. Gringa moment- I expect to walk in, pay the 420 dollars and be handed several boxes of birds so that we can return to the terminal and catch the next bus back to the coast. Rather we were warmly received by the wife who informed us that we would need to go un poco mas adentro, in other words we were going to need to head into the junglish campo and box the birds ourselves. We walked past several large dogs to the office where we sat down and chatted for awhile and the wife let us take refreshingly chilly showers and called us a cab so that we can find some dinner. She offers to go with her husband to box the birds and meet us at the terminal at 10:30pm, we gladly accept as we have not eaten since earlier that morning and at 7:30pm we are starved.
"Shopping" is this mini-mall type complex ( with the best bathrooms- Shoutout to Nick Chan)) that can be found in several cities here in Ecuador including Santo Domingo and Libertad ( the nearest city to my town). Not only is it a bit of the States in Ecuador but it’s also the only place that was guarantied to be open until 10pm, so Margarita and I were both in agreement that the food court would make the best meal. She enjoyed rice and fried chicken from KFC and I got a mini-pizza from some ghetto place called “Ch Italia.” Then we had an hour to waste but the rest of Shopping had closed so we stayed until almost 10 when they pretty much kicked us out.
Okay. Flashback. The volunteer before me had to make this trip once all by herself and I believe 100 birds died because the bus guys made her put the birds below the bus with the luggage and they died from the heat and she had to bring back 200 live birds and 100 dead ones. This was no picnic and I still vividly recall her telling me this story as a humorous warning (with very serious undertones). At the time I was still a volunteer in training and had no idea I was going to be assigned to her site and thus, one day be faced with this arduous task. So I did what any naive newbie would do, I laughed at her tale and comforted myself by telling myself that that would never be me. No way. I would just never try and bring 300 quails back on a nearly 10 hour bus ride. Well, 10 months later I was in line to buy tickets for Margarita, me and 300 quails all the way back to Libertad..
We tried to talk them into letting the birds have their own seats but we lacked a strong defense to the very obvious fact that the birds stunk so instead we asked if the birds could have their own compartment below the bus, away from the heat of the motor and other bags. The bus guys agreed and then tried to charge us 1.50 a box ( we have 15 boxes not including the strange Japanese chickens that the quail couple gave us and a human ticket costs five dollars and you get a seat and everything). Margarita talks them down to a dollar a box and we buy our tickets and are set to leave at 11:30pm. The quail couple kindly waited with us for an hour or so until our bus arrived and helped us load the 15 some boxes onto the bus. After lots of hugging, handshaking, cheek kissing and such, we thanked them for all their help and boarded the bus ourselves.
The 9 or so hour trip back was the coldest I have been since arriving here in Ecuador. Being that I grew up in Wisconsin I fancy that I am fairly immune to what people here, ( a country that is cut in two by the equator) refer to here as cold but dang, it was downright chilly. While this was a bit rough for us and the woman who actually demanded to get off the bus at 2am with her baby, preferring to wait in the rain at a dark gas station for a “warmer” bus it was a blessing for the quails. This whole cold debacle was about the same time that the police stopped us like usual and made everyone get off the bus. I remember when I was new to this country and actually got off the bus, now I play ignorant and hide in my seat. Margarita had forgotten her id and we managed to lay low. The police allowed everyone back on the bus and we were on our way again. I had brought my trusty discman from 1996 ( who needs an Ipod?), I took one ear bud and let Margarita take the other and we fell asleep to the peaceful stylings of Damien rice.
long story a little less long... we made it back in the pouring rain and every single quail (a bit wet) survived ( which might be a quail leyenda). That is my story of the 300 quails.
7 hours into our 9 hour trip to Santo Domingo, I’m sweating on a steamy bus with a jammed window that no matter how hard I pull, I cannot open and the more I try the more sweaty I get, so I give up. Surrender to the heat.. Enjoy the brief breezes that sweep in when the bus door opens to let more passengers on or off and little kids selling frozen coco water, oranges and clear plastic bags of skinned slivers of yellow mangos. My traveling companion, Margarita is a member of Neo Juventud the group of young people that I work with here in palmar. We left that morning at 7:30 to make the 9 hour trip to Santo Domingo de los Tsachilas to buy and bring back 300 quails and return that same night. Margarita turns to me and laughs, “Hope it doesn’t rain.”
It began to pour about an hour outside of Santo Domingo. We arrived at the bus terminal in the rain where we caught a taxi with a driver that seemed to kind of sort of know where we were going. He stopped about every block and a half to ask the best looking woman within earshot for directions; 6:30 pm and about 7 curvy ladies later we pulled up to the house of the couple who would sell us our 300 quails. Gringa moment- I expect to walk in, pay the 420 dollars and be handed several boxes of birds so that we can return to the terminal and catch the next bus back to the coast. Rather we were warmly received by the wife who informed us that we would need to go un poco mas adentro, in other words we were going to need to head into the junglish campo and box the birds ourselves. We walked past several large dogs to the office where we sat down and chatted for awhile and the wife let us take refreshingly chilly showers and called us a cab so that we can find some dinner. She offers to go with her husband to box the birds and meet us at the terminal at 10:30pm, we gladly accept as we have not eaten since earlier that morning and at 7:30pm we are starved.
"Shopping" is this mini-mall type complex ( with the best bathrooms- Shoutout to Nick Chan)) that can be found in several cities here in Ecuador including Santo Domingo and Libertad ( the nearest city to my town). Not only is it a bit of the States in Ecuador but it’s also the only place that was guarantied to be open until 10pm, so Margarita and I were both in agreement that the food court would make the best meal. She enjoyed rice and fried chicken from KFC and I got a mini-pizza from some ghetto place called “Ch Italia.” Then we had an hour to waste but the rest of Shopping had closed so we stayed until almost 10 when they pretty much kicked us out.
Okay. Flashback. The volunteer before me had to make this trip once all by herself and I believe 100 birds died because the bus guys made her put the birds below the bus with the luggage and they died from the heat and she had to bring back 200 live birds and 100 dead ones. This was no picnic and I still vividly recall her telling me this story as a humorous warning (with very serious undertones). At the time I was still a volunteer in training and had no idea I was going to be assigned to her site and thus, one day be faced with this arduous task. So I did what any naive newbie would do, I laughed at her tale and comforted myself by telling myself that that would never be me. No way. I would just never try and bring 300 quails back on a nearly 10 hour bus ride. Well, 10 months later I was in line to buy tickets for Margarita, me and 300 quails all the way back to Libertad..
We tried to talk them into letting the birds have their own seats but we lacked a strong defense to the very obvious fact that the birds stunk so instead we asked if the birds could have their own compartment below the bus, away from the heat of the motor and other bags. The bus guys agreed and then tried to charge us 1.50 a box ( we have 15 boxes not including the strange Japanese chickens that the quail couple gave us and a human ticket costs five dollars and you get a seat and everything). Margarita talks them down to a dollar a box and we buy our tickets and are set to leave at 11:30pm. The quail couple kindly waited with us for an hour or so until our bus arrived and helped us load the 15 some boxes onto the bus. After lots of hugging, handshaking, cheek kissing and such, we thanked them for all their help and boarded the bus ourselves.
The 9 or so hour trip back was the coldest I have been since arriving here in Ecuador. Being that I grew up in Wisconsin I fancy that I am fairly immune to what people here, ( a country that is cut in two by the equator) refer to here as cold but dang, it was downright chilly. While this was a bit rough for us and the woman who actually demanded to get off the bus at 2am with her baby, preferring to wait in the rain at a dark gas station for a “warmer” bus it was a blessing for the quails. This whole cold debacle was about the same time that the police stopped us like usual and made everyone get off the bus. I remember when I was new to this country and actually got off the bus, now I play ignorant and hide in my seat. Margarita had forgotten her id and we managed to lay low. The police allowed everyone back on the bus and we were on our way again. I had brought my trusty discman from 1996 ( who needs an Ipod?), I took one ear bud and let Margarita take the other and we fell asleep to the peaceful stylings of Damien rice.
long story a little less long... we made it back in the pouring rain and every single quail (a bit wet) survived ( which might be a quail leyenda). That is my story of the 300 quails.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
a bit of reflection
Jan 16
I wanted
the words to come to me, I wanted
to speak the language
that everyone else spoke. I wanted
to keep myself and
become them
like the last hints of sun
against tide, rising. I wanted
to wake up and fit into the size
of my new life. I wanted
to be as graceful as the blue slivers of boats
that bow to the sea at days end. I wanted
to bounce all my prayers off
the hard stone of some cathedral, lose
my mind in Hail Marys and
wake up sure that
it was all as it was supposed to be.
Life Continues in Palmar
I have now been in Palmar four and a half months and in Ecuador nearly seven. An entirely new year has begun and what can I even begin to say about the strangewonder of it all. These past seven months have been chuckfull of triumphs and blunders to the say the least- all contributing to the great cycle of continued learning that I am always spinning in. I mostly focus on the bright shiny side of this crazy experience rather than the disheartening days or all the ways that I have managed to muck things up before I got them right. And believe me, I have got some pretty great tales to tell on the subject of How Hannah Screws Up Yet Again. Adapting to a new culture is full of failures, ( most of which are pretty funny and I’d be happy to tell you about them in person over coffee or I don’t know, scotch). But the triumphs, the moments of clarity and sense of purpose are what I want to share with you now- If you are nice enough to bother entertaining these ramblings, I would like to offer you something hopeful.
So here is my moment of reflection-
I realized New Years last year after welcoming 2007 with hundreds of beautiful children in Honduras that I needed to make a change and take a risk. I returned to the states and filled out the application to join the Peace Corps. I had no real intention of actually pressing that Send button- but the darn internet makes things so accessible that one bleak January morning I thought to myself, “what the heck”. Sometimes the first steps to change are as simple as taking a deep breathe and pressing a magical button. Of course all of the rigorous medical, dental exams/ legal crap/ selling my car/ moving out of my beautiful apartment/ saying good-bye to my family etc was, shall we say- a little less than magical. But I did it.
But first I cashed in my entire savings account to go to Spain for two weeks over Easter with a friend and his brother and walked 200 miles of the pilgrimage El Camino de Santiago. My two weeks as a pilgrim provided me with a clearer head, strengthened and better connected me to myself and God and gave me a swollen ankle, some serious blisters and some of the most beautiful memories which I am very privileged to have. On the day we arrived at the cathedral in Santiago, the destination of many pilgrims throughout history- Santiago where I saw the bones of Saint James, received my certificate of completion, drank the best glass of wine in my life and received the news that I had been waiting for: I was officially invited by the Peace Corps, Destination- Ecuador.
What did all that mean? I didn’t know. I just knew that my journey as a pilgrim, rather than ending at the bones of a saint, were only just beginning.
My mom took me to the airport. Plane from Appleton to Chicago. Chicago to Miami and then Ecuador. Physically walking away from my mom and my home was one of the hardest parts, just getting on that plane was hard... sitting down and putting on my seatbelt, fighting every urge to just run off the plane and go home.
Anyway— I stayed on the plane. I arrived in a new country. I survived 2 and a half months of intense training and the first months in my site. All of which were full of struggle and excitement. And now... seven months into my adventure, I feel that as my mother wrote me in a letter that she gave me as I boarded that first plane, that I am, “abundantly blessed”. And I feel very much like the photo that she enclosed in that same letter– a photo of this red-head on her tricycle, full of determination, fear and pure joy. I am ready to take on 2008.
I wanted
the words to come to me, I wanted
to speak the language
that everyone else spoke. I wanted
to keep myself and
become them
like the last hints of sun
against tide, rising. I wanted
to wake up and fit into the size
of my new life. I wanted
to be as graceful as the blue slivers of boats
that bow to the sea at days end. I wanted
to bounce all my prayers off
the hard stone of some cathedral, lose
my mind in Hail Marys and
wake up sure that
it was all as it was supposed to be.
Life Continues in Palmar
I have now been in Palmar four and a half months and in Ecuador nearly seven. An entirely new year has begun and what can I even begin to say about the strangewonder of it all. These past seven months have been chuckfull of triumphs and blunders to the say the least- all contributing to the great cycle of continued learning that I am always spinning in. I mostly focus on the bright shiny side of this crazy experience rather than the disheartening days or all the ways that I have managed to muck things up before I got them right. And believe me, I have got some pretty great tales to tell on the subject of How Hannah Screws Up Yet Again. Adapting to a new culture is full of failures, ( most of which are pretty funny and I’d be happy to tell you about them in person over coffee or I don’t know, scotch). But the triumphs, the moments of clarity and sense of purpose are what I want to share with you now- If you are nice enough to bother entertaining these ramblings, I would like to offer you something hopeful.
So here is my moment of reflection-
I realized New Years last year after welcoming 2007 with hundreds of beautiful children in Honduras that I needed to make a change and take a risk. I returned to the states and filled out the application to join the Peace Corps. I had no real intention of actually pressing that Send button- but the darn internet makes things so accessible that one bleak January morning I thought to myself, “what the heck”. Sometimes the first steps to change are as simple as taking a deep breathe and pressing a magical button. Of course all of the rigorous medical, dental exams/ legal crap/ selling my car/ moving out of my beautiful apartment/ saying good-bye to my family etc was, shall we say- a little less than magical. But I did it.
But first I cashed in my entire savings account to go to Spain for two weeks over Easter with a friend and his brother and walked 200 miles of the pilgrimage El Camino de Santiago. My two weeks as a pilgrim provided me with a clearer head, strengthened and better connected me to myself and God and gave me a swollen ankle, some serious blisters and some of the most beautiful memories which I am very privileged to have. On the day we arrived at the cathedral in Santiago, the destination of many pilgrims throughout history- Santiago where I saw the bones of Saint James, received my certificate of completion, drank the best glass of wine in my life and received the news that I had been waiting for: I was officially invited by the Peace Corps, Destination- Ecuador.
What did all that mean? I didn’t know. I just knew that my journey as a pilgrim, rather than ending at the bones of a saint, were only just beginning.
My mom took me to the airport. Plane from Appleton to Chicago. Chicago to Miami and then Ecuador. Physically walking away from my mom and my home was one of the hardest parts, just getting on that plane was hard... sitting down and putting on my seatbelt, fighting every urge to just run off the plane and go home.
Anyway— I stayed on the plane. I arrived in a new country. I survived 2 and a half months of intense training and the first months in my site. All of which were full of struggle and excitement. And now... seven months into my adventure, I feel that as my mother wrote me in a letter that she gave me as I boarded that first plane, that I am, “abundantly blessed”. And I feel very much like the photo that she enclosed in that same letter– a photo of this red-head on her tricycle, full of determination, fear and pure joy. I am ready to take on 2008.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
New Years in Palmar
Here we burn the año viejo in the streets.
Strike a match
mild darkness. Such quick death.
But, the heat and light
color our faces
blackness and the past
disintegrates before our eyes.
There is no time to wonder about tomorrow and next month
No time to fool ourselves with resolutions, lofty ambition
Only to pay our respects to what has been.
To let it die in a loud spectacular display of firecrackers and gasoline soaked
dolls.
And afterwards the soft puddle of ash
( how I met my ecuadorian brother)
7 am new years day
Shake the sand from my hair
on with permanent marker.
He’s 20, no he’s 15 at most.
We are packed in like a string of christmas lights
folded in just so
We are facing each other
I turn my head to stare out the window.
I crave sleep like water.
My eyes close and I don’t realize
Open my eyes to find his,
I realize we are not going to crash
and smile.
He smiles.
His face is so familiar to me and I smile again.
with a sheepish kid grin.
I laugh and compliment his English.
He twists his hair
with his finger and we sit for awhile in
silence. He looks hard at my eyes, “tienes ojos
lindos”.
I tell him his eyes are beautiful too.
him luck in the coming year and climb out.
Pay the driver a dollar and the van
pulls away.
I find a sense of family in the strangest ways.
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