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).
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
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.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
World AIDs Day and Baking Bread
So this past Saturday was December First which is World AIDs Day-- being that HIV/AIDS is a a growing concern particularly here on the coast we made sure paint the town red ( well, with bright red balloons and red ribbons anyway). A group of about 30 kids from our youth group showed up for our parade and carried signs and helped pass out information about what AIDS is, how we can protect ourselves and how we can reach out to people who are dealing with this devestating disease. The compassion and motivation shown by the youth in Palmar is amazing!
Here in Palmar there are still many people who don´t know what AIDS is or how to protect themselves and the youth is committed to getting the information out there and saving lives. It´s exciting for me to be able to be a part of their efforts.
There past two weeks I have also been participating in a baking class with the youth in my community in order to expand and improve our bakery sales. We are learning how to bake all kinds of breads, cakes and cookies and are going to have a big exposition of our work this weekend. YUM!
Well, I would love to write more but i gotta catch a bus back to palmar if I´m gonna make it to baking class on time! ( Thank goodness for the "hora ecuatoriana" because it´s okay to be late here!!)
Thursday, November 22, 2007
thanksgiving day
Happy Day of Thanks!
My thanksgiving started early- I met my friend at 5:30am to run the length of the beach which takes about 40 minutes. We ended up at the end near barrio esteros where we walked around the inlet where the mangrave begins and watched the boats begin to come in to shore with the catch of the day. We walked further and climbed the huge moss-covered rocks---we looked for treasures--little sponges, shells, crabs, starfish and I held one creature in my hand that closes itself up with tiny tentacles. About this time with sun was nearly risen and the light had changed. Sun on skin. We climbed the highest rock and sat there beside three pelicans, humming bob marley songs and waving at the fisherman as they continued to arrive in rickety wooden boats with pealing paint and names like Santa Rita, Santa Carmen ( the patron saint of fishing), margarita etc....Climbing down the rock is always the tough part but i made it.
We walked back to the beach and got caught up in the chaos of every morning in palmar: the fishermen climbing out of their boats balancing red plastic boxes full of shinning, silver fish and the sea gulls and pelicans come in mass swooping down claws stretched to steal what they can. They dogs run wild torn fish dangle from their jaws as they pick fights with eachother for their breakfast. We drink morocho from plastic cups sold by a man and his bicycle wooden cart-- the warm milk with raisons, cinnamon and morocho warms my body and tastes like heaven. Alex goes out to the boats and returns with a plastic bag full of trumpet fish-- Meanwhile I have waded into the sea and realized that I was surrounded by hundreds of bright orange starfish- as though for a moment the sea had claimed the evening sky and I was walking through a strange galaxy.
We returned to my house to clean the fish and then I had a game of beach soccer. The whole town was out on the beach with big speakers blasting the sounds of don omar, aventura and of course, daddy yankee. We played hard in the blazing mid-morning sun and I SCORED THE ONLY GOAL! It was a huge moment for me. I was playing defense and kicked it as hard as i could from mid-field and it went right in the goal. I´m pretty proud of this... a thanksgiving milagro. And the other girls invited me to play with them again next sunday...Now here i am running a few errands in Libertad and soon to return to palmar where I am going to cook up some trumpet fish to celebrate my thankgiving.
It´s been a beautiful day and I am grateful for a great many things: my family, my friends and my home... and I am grateful for my new town, friends and my strange new life here. Everyday is full of newness and beauty. I wish I could be with my family on thanksgiving but since I cannot, I am very thankful to be here in ecuador living life the best that i can. Much love from ecua-land!
My thanksgiving started early- I met my friend at 5:30am to run the length of the beach which takes about 40 minutes. We ended up at the end near barrio esteros where we walked around the inlet where the mangrave begins and watched the boats begin to come in to shore with the catch of the day. We walked further and climbed the huge moss-covered rocks---we looked for treasures--little sponges, shells, crabs, starfish and I held one creature in my hand that closes itself up with tiny tentacles. About this time with sun was nearly risen and the light had changed. Sun on skin. We climbed the highest rock and sat there beside three pelicans, humming bob marley songs and waving at the fisherman as they continued to arrive in rickety wooden boats with pealing paint and names like Santa Rita, Santa Carmen ( the patron saint of fishing), margarita etc....Climbing down the rock is always the tough part but i made it.
We walked back to the beach and got caught up in the chaos of every morning in palmar: the fishermen climbing out of their boats balancing red plastic boxes full of shinning, silver fish and the sea gulls and pelicans come in mass swooping down claws stretched to steal what they can. They dogs run wild torn fish dangle from their jaws as they pick fights with eachother for their breakfast. We drink morocho from plastic cups sold by a man and his bicycle wooden cart-- the warm milk with raisons, cinnamon and morocho warms my body and tastes like heaven. Alex goes out to the boats and returns with a plastic bag full of trumpet fish-- Meanwhile I have waded into the sea and realized that I was surrounded by hundreds of bright orange starfish- as though for a moment the sea had claimed the evening sky and I was walking through a strange galaxy.
We returned to my house to clean the fish and then I had a game of beach soccer. The whole town was out on the beach with big speakers blasting the sounds of don omar, aventura and of course, daddy yankee. We played hard in the blazing mid-morning sun and I SCORED THE ONLY GOAL! It was a huge moment for me. I was playing defense and kicked it as hard as i could from mid-field and it went right in the goal. I´m pretty proud of this... a thanksgiving milagro. And the other girls invited me to play with them again next sunday...Now here i am running a few errands in Libertad and soon to return to palmar where I am going to cook up some trumpet fish to celebrate my thankgiving.
It´s been a beautiful day and I am grateful for a great many things: my family, my friends and my home... and I am grateful for my new town, friends and my strange new life here. Everyday is full of newness and beauty. I wish I could be with my family on thanksgiving but since I cannot, I am very thankful to be here in ecuador living life the best that i can. Much love from ecua-land!
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