Entry the Eighth (End of September)

I know, I know…It’s been awhile since I have made a post. Here you go mother An incredible amount of things have happened since last post but I’ll give you the essay, not the novel…

First off, my brother came to visit. He was here only for a week but it was a fun one. We didn’t do any major traveling or such things. My friend and local PCV and I picked him up from the airport in Guayaquil. Seeing him exit the doors was strange. It took me back a bit because I haven’t seen him (or any of my family) for over 6 months at the time. It was one of those situations where it seems like your meeting a person from a past life. Eh well, mixin’ it up a bit. The week was spent in my site, in my little not-so-touristy coastal town. If he wanted a view of part of Ecuador through Ecuadorian eyes, he got one. Its good that he is a flexible, easy going person; anyone otherwise would have gone crazy. It was a bonus that he came down at this time because he helped me move some stuff into my new apartment. I was even more taken back by the treasure trove of a bag my mother packed for me, with everything from dark chocolate (once again, hard to find and expensive here even though I pretty much live in cacao fields), a giant jar of peanut butter, computer speakers, etc. nothing short of glorious! I was very content after that, though it made me miss home. Such with most indulgences, there was a downside, now I can’t wait to visit for Christmas. But yes, my brother came and went, I think he enjoyed his stay, it wasn’t a normal vacation for him (or for anyone), but I think he left with a more contemplative perspective of the world. And, in his true fashion, I think he created a new extreme sport, “hammock hurling,” which is essentially riding a hammock superman-style and trying to knock over as much stuff as you can, like beer bottles onto laptops. I expected nothing less of him, and for this it was excellent.

During my brothers visit, there were many, many comments about where I live, amongst them;”what a shithole!” “Those dogs are humping each other, what the hell’s going on?” “I’m gonna F*%# up the next person that whistles and shouts gringo at me!” I, on the other hand, really was wondering what he was complaining about. In a way I took a little bit of offense. I found myself in an argument where I was justifying the way things are here. Yes those comments of my brothers are true (or based off real fact) and there’s much more, believe me. But I was defending this place like it was my home, as if all those strange or messed up things were no big deal, as if they belonged, or were immutable. This also meant that they were par for my expectations. I have been here awhile, and it really shows when I come into contact with people other than Ecuadorians or PCV’s. Yes, us PCV’s like to complain about that stuff to each other, but we all know its normal and not that big a deal.

Teaching has been, well, as normal as teaching high school kids get. I did start a fun little project with the kiddos. We’ve moved into a soil conservation part of the course, more specifically organic agriculture. To make the topic more interesting, I went and bought a bunch of tomato seeds. I handed them out to all the kids and told them to go find a plastic bottle in the street or form the next time they get a drink. Next, I had them cut the top off, fill with soil, and germinate the seeds in their own homes. In the meantime, I took a hoe and tilled an ungodly amount of soil for the 250+ plants that I anticipate. I also made a massive pile of organic fertilizer that that the kids took a curiously keen interest in. It’s a 6-7 day recipe for fertilizer that uses yeast and sugar water. Surprisingly, the kids were really interested in the basic chemistry that was at work and this was a hit with them. Sooo, when the plants are ready, we’re going to plant them and nurture them. I hope that this gives the kids not only a basic set of skills for planting their own gardens (which they wanted to do), but also a hands-on sense of stewardship with providing for and nurturing something. That, and they like the cheesy saying: (I’m paraphrasing) pull on a plant all you want and it won’t grow any faster, but provide care and water and it will grow strong and proper, or some maxim like that. They love their cheesy metaphors down here, I swear. My counterpart came to me the other day:

Wilson: “Mitch! I have a great idea!”

Me: “Oh? What’s that Wilson?”

Wilson: ”Ok, so you know how there are chickens that are fed chemicals and antibiotics and then there are the ones who are grown free?”

Me: ”Sure, yes…”

Wilson: ”So the people know the difference between the two and prefer the free chicken. If we tell the students and farmers that organic agriculture is like the free chicken, they will all love organic produce.”

Me: “But they already know the basic difference.”

Wilson: “Yes, but it’s like the chickens!”

We (he) proceeded to teach this and, though the students didn’t give a damn, a light bulb went on in the group of farmer’s heads! It was definitely something that made me take a step back. I have my own methods of doing things and my own conceptualizations. I could have (as I have done) preach the benefits and the cheapness of small scale organic agriculture for personal consumption and local markets, but would have never thought to say “It’s like the free-chicken!” The convenience of this bridge between a novelty and to something they know and are familiar with was all that was needed. And I limped on home reminding myself that I’m not in California

Recently, we Omnibus 101’ers (our class of volunteers) had out reconnect conference. It was a conference to meet up, present the studies of our sites, what data we have collected, make profiles of our sites and then we learned about how to design and execute projects in the most precise, bureaucratic of manners (though necessary, especially for quantification of Peace Corps effectiveness). It was great to see everybody, share funny or crazy stories of our sites. The conference was done regionally, which was unfortunate because it split out class (34 or so remaining out of 47) into three groups. So, our group of ten in the coast were together. Nonetheless, we had a great time, had ourselves a talent show, small dance, and some fun games. Afterward we all met up in the sierra, in Riobamba, with the majority of the other groups. So finally we were all together and had a great time. It was the first time since training, 4 months ago, that we had seen each other and it was a reunion long overdue. We had a great time, a large dinner together, dancing and shared a few beers. As usual when I go to the sierra, (for some reason my body doesn’t like going from 10m above sea level to around 4,000m), I had a massive headache the whole time from the altitude, but it was so worth it. On my way out, one of the volunteers that lives up there gave me a little common cure for what I had, it worked albeit too late. Either way, it was great to be up in the fresh air. I also enjoyed catching some breathtaking vistas of Mt. Chimborazo, a gigantic snow covered mountain next to Riobamba (something that we DO NOT have and that I miss in the coast). It’s a massive, enchanting view when the clouds aren’t in the way, not to mention the closest point to the sun of anywhere else on Earth, and I forgot my sunscreen.

But yes, I have a new apartment, and I am extremely elated to finally be out of my old cracker-jack box of a closet I used to live in. Now my friends keep hounding me for an official “coming out of the closet party,” ….bunch of unoriginal jerks. But now I’m all moved in and free of stress. The best part of my new place is that a family lives above me and runs a flower shop below. I have become quite close with them, they are wonderful people. They have a bunch of family in the states that occupies the majority of our conversations. They have a seven year old son who is a pudgy, curious little guy and loves to chat and throw my possessions that shouldn’t be thrown. This is great for me because I can practice my conversational Spanish with him. They also have a little tiny French poodle that they groom to look like a series puff balls with bright red painted nails. I always thought myself somebody who gets along solo and no other way. Though I can do this without qualm, the fact that I have people that live close and who I have a more intimate interaction with is very comforting to me. Even if it’s watching the little pudgy kid, Justin (pronounced like Youstin), dragging the leash of their poor over-primped poodle around the store front, or explaining to the mom that “yes, I can actually cook, I’m not kidding with you…no, I promise I can!” the littlest things are what are turning this into a home away from home.

Amongst the things that my brother dropped off to me, he gave me a bunch of seeds of different tomato species that are not easily found in my area. So I’m starting a tomato, herb, and flower garden inside my apartment. I have big windows (ill upload pics later) that make this an ideal project. I’ve found that I have a knack for agriculture in the sense that I derive great pleasure and satisfaction from it. It’s easy too, basic applied biology and chemistry. I love the process of preparing, germinating, nurturing, and harvesting something of worth. In my opinion, there are few other simpler, more holistic practices in life than producing a necessary product form the earth. It’s Zen, it’s spiritual, it makes many other things in the world not really matter that much. Maybe it’s an old evolutionary thing; deep, tightly wound and rarely used non-coding regions of DNA coming to life and churning out dopamine when soil touches hand, I don’t know. My mom blames it on my grandpa, who was also a farmer and derived similar contentment. Either way, I learned something new about myself: my attraction to growing things wasn’t just a fun chore for me when I was a kid out-back, it’s something more or less possibly innate.

I’ve been chatting with a good friend from Willamette, Christine, who I worked with at the hospital lab. She told me she just got invited to Kenya for the Peace Corps. I wish I could have shouted at her the congratulations I wanted to give. She is in such an incredibly exciting time right now, I feel ecstatic for her. It’s great because I know here exact feelings, her worries, her confusions, her excitements! It’s a rush to know your life is going to change on said date. Its raises the hair on your neck and makes you shift your weight to your toes when you walk. I am in the middle of compiling a little packing list for her at her request. I know Kenya is very different from Ecuador, but loneliness and the American culture in us isn’t and I’m happy to tell her all the things I’m thankful for and the things I wish I had. This takes me back to a mind set when I was just entering the Peace Corps, with completely different expectations, perspectives and rhythm. Via some crazy retrospect, I can actually measure the past year in periods of thought, emotion and personal “funkyness” like the rings on a tree. Not that it’s a roller coaster; it is just very dynamic. It has one acyclic direction. I think this is something unique to being outside of the flow of one’s normal life, free of the normal pressures of a more tightly wound, efficient, and saturated culture. It affords time to reflect and meditate on one’s own life, on books that are read, new skills learned, and strange experiences had (a ton of the experiences are of a strange albeit entertaining nature). I’m excited for her because she has no idea what is about to hit her, it’s a dump-truck of life altering experiences and beautiful moments. Not to mention a good move; my class and I almost got t-shirts made that said “U.S. Peace Corps: Avoiding the U.S. economy since 2009.” Anyway, good luck Christine, have fun, and when they say be flexible, they mean it.

Entry the Eighth Cont’d (Dec. 2nd)

Two major American holidays have passed since last I’ve posted, Halloween and Thanksgiving. For Halloween, some of us went to Chaco, which is in the Oriente, or Amazon. It was quite a trek but well worth it. I went with what is turning into my trusty travel partner and we made the journey in twelve hours or something like that. It was my first time to the jungle and it was incredible. It was completely different from anything I’ve seen in my life. Everything was beautifully green, obscure species of bugs moved in swarms, and incredible sunsets. Being that we’re in the rafting capital of Ecuador, we (after filling out requisite paper work) partook in this. In all honestly, it was a bit lame on the river, just short runs for best time. I’m used to the 6 hour-drag your beer-squirt people with water-rafting trips; Eh, call me a crude but I like to relax on vacation. Later that night we had the usual Halloween celebration. We had some great thrown together costumes like crab woman and smurfs (fully painted!). Thanksgiving was even more incredible, replete with every thanksgiving dinner element there is from turkey, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, stuffing, mashed potatoes, berry cobbler, cider and wine. Also, everything was made from scratch with things found or made here in Ecuador (except the cranberry sauce and wine). I believe the amazing success of both these holidays is due to the qualities and bonds between us PCV’s. We rejoice in the challenge and pleasure of continuing our own traditions in a place that doesn’t necessarily cater them. Putting together these holidays and celebrations without the commercial blowout that is present in the states has a unique quality to it. The holidays were not shoved down our throats, we went out and brought them into being. It’s also a testament to the amazing talents of other volunteers. I had one of the best thanksgiving dinners I’ve ever had (sorry Mom) thanks to the culinary talents that other have, and that apparently I have been neglecting.

As for recent work and projects and the like, my lesson plan with the high schools has ended this week and am preparing to make the next year’s schedule. The school year here ends in mid January and given Christmas break, there isn’t much time left. I’m excited because this time I will get to choose how many classes I have, plan the curriculum, and work alone. I was working with my counterpart when the class was named “tourism,” but now my class will be env. ed and all mine. I’m still contemplating whether I want to teach any formal English classes, I guess we’ll see. I prefer the small groups of little kids that I have been continuing with. I also am planning a workshop for all of the teachers in my area about environmental education. I want to get this done by the time I head home for Christmas on the 21st, but we’ll see how things go. But yes, I have, oh…reformulated… my relationship with my counterpart (CP). I found he really wasn’t good at education, so I asked him to let me take care of that on my own. I have separated myself a bit from him because he ceased to think independently about projects. Since I have done this, we have had incredible success! Near Naranjal there is a trail that heads up to the cloud forest and happens to pass by a series of magnificent waterfalls. My CP thought it would be great to put up zip-lines in this place to make it a draw for tourists. I helped him with projects planning and proposal and with the order of operations, but this is pretty much his project. After consulting an engineer, the municipal Gov’t is dangling $25,000 over our heads for the project! Now all we need to do is tickle their bellies a bit to get the money to fall and get this rolling. As a bonus, I’m piggy-backing some of that money for a reforestation project in the area to reduce the encroachment of agricultural desiccation.

As for life here, I’m in the routine, and happily so after some periods of restlessness. I have been reading a ton. As evidence, I finished Brothers Karamazov in a week and a half. But what I’ve been mostly absorbed in is philosophical literature. It started because my little inherited library is chock full of original works by Philosophers or books about the original works. I’ve already read all the other books so it’s between philosophy and the history or city planning, guess which won that argument. The fascination is akin to my very own retake on the philosophy class I was half-conscious through in college. Yet, this time I’m a bit more mentally equipped. I’m engrossed in this because it captures me, and I don’t feel that the worried or preoccupied head I had back in the states would have grasped, viewed, or cognizantly masticated the things that it can here. Either way, infinite resignation of faith, existentialism, and the relationship of mind and body are quite the fabulous topics these days. I have also been trying to do some MCAT studying, but the information is relatively finite for the time I have till I take it. But it’s absolutely delightful! Physics and chemistry problems go from stressful, complex, ink-and-paper-pains-in-the-ass to becoming fun brain teasers and stress reducers, especially when you don’t have to turn them in.

Ill end with a funny story that happened not too long ago… So I always get requests to teach people English, little did I know there was tomfoolery and scoundrels involved! “Miiiiiiittch, enseñame ingles! Por fe!” I normally always say no, but this was a professional girl who worked in the tourism office and had good reason to learn English. Furthermore, we didn’t have to start with “apple, banana..etc.” because she has some decent English in college. So I said yes and decided to meet her at this popular hamburger place with outside tables and plenty of light. We decided to meet at six o’clock-ish, right when the tourism office closes. I was in the office that day till about 5:30 and she quietly excused herself at about 5:15 to go gather her books and materials…hmm, whatever. I show up at the place on time and have to wait a bit for her to show. Sure enough here she comes strutting, not walking, but powerfully, brazenly punishing the ground with her three-inch sparkly heels. She was decked out in (what I’ve heard past girlfriends call) booty pants, a sort of shiny top you only wear to night clubs and a matching makeup and hairdo. The only things that were lacking were the books, the notes, and the pencils, just a small notebook with scribblings. I was a perfect, diametric opposite of her with my dusty dirty cargo shorts, stinky flip-flops with my, as always, really muddy/dirty feet (why me, really?), and my “te de estiercol” (poop tea, its fertilizer…) -stained pharmaceutical shirt. I was a fabulous urchin kid, I did have a new hair cut though:). Continuing… so, as with most things unexpected in my life these days, no big deal. The lesson went terrible! Those scribbling in her notebook were not English; it was not an English note book, more an accessory to play down her aggressive, 1-hour prepped outfit. I started talking about English, where she would like to start, we got though some common phrases and question types, for about 25 minutes… This was until I realized she didn’t comprehend a thing I was saying, she couldn’t because she wasn’t focused on the notebook. I eventually said screw it, got a burger and beer, chatted and joked in Spanish, and kissed her cheek goodbye. Can I consider that a date? She did, haha. I feel swindled, though amusingly so. However, there will not be a second date; first, I’m wiser now, second, her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, or something like that. Yeah, not exactly my type.

I will be traveling home soon! I am spending Dec. 21 to Jan. 8th in the states with my family. I don’t plan on leaving Manteca much (if at all), but this suits me fine. I’m coming home to visit my family and close crew of good ol’ friends that I miss. I hear that the Ecuadorian New year is a spectacle to behold, I’m a little sore that I will be missing it, but there’s always next year.

Entry the Seventh

July 24th 2009

I have had a bit of a break recently. The first trimester has finished and this past week was finals week. I was surprised a bit. For as relatively unorganized as the schools are, they had a rather elaborate finals week schedule. So I had to write up a little test for the kids. And by little, I mean three multiple choice questions (in conjunction with my counterpart’s questions on his lectures of, well…pretty much any subject Jeopardy covers). I kind of went a little easy them, putting in answer options like McDonalds for how heterotrophic organisms eat. It’s actually technically correct, which is good news for the few infamously smart-ass kids that I know chose that one. The end of the trimester has marked a time when I must get the ball rolling on my other projects. As I mentioned earlier, I’m starting an eco-club full of whatever kids want to be in it. This means I need to have meeting with parents, permission slips, the good graces of the school directors…ugh, I’m in pain just writing about it. In the end it’s going to be a ridiculously fun and productive venture, not to mention a fresh presence that Naranjal has never really had.

So I was brainstorming about my future eco-club activities the other day and hit a wall. I want to do a large section on organic agriculture including having the kids help me manage a piece of land, run a sapling nursery, make different types of organic fertilizers, agro forestry techniques and other stuff of the such, but I was missing a major component of this equation: the land. We can’t do it at my place because as you will read a bit later; not possible. So I went on a walk to get the thinking juices going. To be more specific, I went on a walk to go buy beer with the hopes that a change of pace and some crazy idea about agriculture might flow in with the other effluent thoughts of super human strength and legendary kung-fu fantasies. When I got to the store, I started talking to the shop keeper, an ancient looking lady who is absolutely delightful. Then, around the corner, pops her son, a man in his fifties and the look that he has something incredible to say and by god he did. He told me he runs a charity for special needs children and adults and runs a school on the outskirts of town. In addition, he says that there is about a half acre of idle farmland next to, and belongs to the school. He continued that he would love for me to help out with starting an organic garden, he would help with all of the funding and even has a tractor that we can use to plow the field. JACKPOT! Though all I expressed to him was something like “I like this, I’m happy to hear this” or something dumb like that. This was hands down the best beer run ever, though for the future I don’t wish to make a habit of solving all my problems with a beer run, they have another term for that.

So the next day, I was invited to the “committee” meeting. This consisted of a group of about fifteen individuals, parents and other community members, who had a vested interest in the school. About this school; it is technically a public school but all the government really does is pay for the building construction and then for a few teachers to show up. This committee is a glorified PTA which takes care and manages the school since there is no official administration. They organize outings, events, maintain and improve the schools grounds, and plan for future development. The committee has parents of students who attend the school, disabled persons who are active in the community, and other volunteers. I was happy to find a very good friend at this meeting. Her name is Martha and she was a very good friend of the volunteer who just left Naranjal. She acted as a sort of mother figure for John, and now is doing something like this for me. Every now and then I will stop by and chat with her and her two kids who are a little younger than I. She is a wonderful host and an amazing cook. Usually, she has some sort of parcel of food for me to take to my house, and I am always glad to stop by and take it off her hands. But anyhow, back on track…. At this meeting I took a back seat and listened to what the people had to discuss. I was asked to weigh in on things here and there such as “what is best for the kids to eat for snacks.” I was particularly taken to this group because this is a committee of volunteers who came together solely for the benefit of the kids. Managing a school is no easy task, but a school of special education is even more tiresome. Being the parent of child with special needs is something that requires exceptional strength and perseverance. It seems to me that the parents in this group are dedicated to the maximum, and I find myself drawn to this. I also thought the kids were a blast. Upon arrival, I was introduced to two twin boys of about ten years old, and the sons of one of the committee members. I figured right off the bat that (from experience), just by observation of body and behavior, these kids were autistic. This was later confirmed when the two had COMPLETELY disassembled the five bicycles parked out front during the meeting (save for a few stuck bolts). I was laughing hysterically, especially because the twins thought nothing of their deeds, it was just another thing to do. Their mother told me that she has to watch them very closely because they will disassemble anything and everything they have in sight. I was wondering why they kept yanking at the pen I had. Their mother told me that one time she left them at home with a grandma who didn’t mind them closely and came home to find two lamps, a blender, and a chair, all nicely reverse- engineered. I took out my camera to take a picture of the two but this was next to impossible. My Canon would be their life’s greatest work… or conquest, either way, no bueno.

But yes, soon I will be starting a big giant field of all different types of herbs, vegetables, fruits and trees for the kids to run around in and probably trample. I would love to see the twins disassemble a tomato, an excellent photo op. in the making! In addition, I need to get this thing started so I can start bringing out my older high-school students to teach something.

Also this week, and ironically thanks to my new beer-run contact, I got word that there are other gringos in town. I was overcome with, well, I don’t know. Part of it was “holy crap, I want to meet them!” and the other part was like the feeling that a dog gets when a cat wanders into his territory. This is completely ridiculous, I know, but whatever I got over it. I never actually got to meet them because schedules never worked out but I think I will see them in the future. They are biologists from Northwestern University doing some type of a study on a nearby protected area. I wish I could have met up with them, but I hear they come every six months or so, maybe next time.

So I think I’m about to witness some real drama here in Naranjal. My counterpart, the person who helped me into this community and has guided me to find a comfort zone here in Ecuador, might lose his job. With the change of mayors, which happens the beginning of August, also marks the change of the personnel who work under this head office. This included the tourism office, which I believe my counterpart is subject to. If he loses his job, that means I have to make friends with the incoming people. I have actually already started this process. I had lunch the other day with a future tourism worker and we exchanged ideas, brainstormed for future projects and other stuff of the such (as well as created a buzz, she used to be a model in Guayaquil and that’s the first time anyone has seen me with an Ecuadorian girl, people were awkwardly peeking from every piece of cover they could find). Awkwardly, during this meeting my counterpart walks up out of nowhere and surprises us, chats, takes a look and recognizes the notes were taking about tourism and continuing or improving his work, and makes his getaway. I really feel bad for the guy because he’s not bad at his job, but nothing but a precedent-breaking tourism revolution will save his employment status. This also explains a ton why he wants to change the eco-club planning he’s helping me with into a tourism micro-enterprise rather than just a non-profit educational deal. I don’t mind the former, he would be the perfect person to keep the club running when I leave Ecuador, but I guess we’ll see what happens.

Totally off subject, if you haven’t seen the movie role models, I recommend it! It was the perfect combination of clever quips and sophomoric humor that, and for some odd reason, absolutely had me in stitches. Oh man, I was laughing every time the truck said “Taste the BEAST!” or any time my new favorite character Kuzzak said anything. I think this is due to the fact I have lost part of my sanity, but also that I’m not overly exposed to such culture and humor. I don’t watch ANY television, other than Ecuadorian soccer games. This goes to show, you lower your standards and you’ll have a better time;)

I’m beginning to get a solid feeling of belonging here. Or at least some accord of harmony rather than the feeling of being on vacation for way too long. The other day I was on the bus, making my way to Guayaquil, and I noticed that there was an ant colony on the bus. It was the most unusual thing, a part of nature, naturally making its home on something other than the substantive earth. Hmm, how contemplative. I’m sure a poet can make something much more of the symbolism going on here, but it made me feel at ease with the certain stresses I was having at the time. How the hell these ants manage to survive? In what manner? Then BAM! The next day came like a brick in a tornado. I woke up, slept in super late, tripped and knocked over my nightstand….my three tiered night stand with everything personal I frequently use on it. I have a colorful conversation with it and move on. I go to heat my coffee and make breakfast and BOOM! I turned and caught my clumsy elbow on the pan handle and covered my legs in searing hot rice and eggs. Whatever, moving on, glass half full (how ironic…), ants on a bus, ooommmmmm….Heading to the bathroom… WTF! The toilet is broken and back washing sewage!?!? Oh hell no, I need a drink. I go and put on some music, I have nothing to do this day so I strung my hammock out my doorway like normal, eat the bits of not-so-dirty egg and rice and pour myself a little rum on the rocks. To get the “rocks,” I need to chip at the ridiculously huge chunks of ice that form on my freezer. But, because of my incredibly razor sharp knives that I insisted in making into miniature samurai swords, the knife went through the ice and the metal, puncturing the tube with the freon gas and effectively destroying my refrigerator. Not a good morning, it was like “Bull in a china shop” and “fat guy in a little coat” mated and gave birth to my day, or me, whichever, I can provide evidence of these ends for both, sadly enough. The day was soo bad though, that it broke a personal record for me and was beyond fury. I had to praise the unbelievable magnitude of what happened. This went to show, amongst all the “special” cultural obstacles that the Peace Corps offers, there are still those universal life-pitfalls, the moments of just flat-out unfortunate crappiness. And, as this story is about to do, it moves on…

So August is almost here and it couldn’t come sooner. One, my brother is coming to visit, so for a few days we’re going to run around and be tourists, enjoy cheap beer and try not to get robbed. The other great thing is that I get a visit from my boss to get a new apartment. I can’t move until my first three months are up and I have a security check on whichever new place I’m moving into. So, at the beginning of this next month I get to move in to a new place. I couldn’t be happier! Right now, I live in a closet. No kidding, it’s actually a storage closet that they cleared out for me. I’m like these people’s Harry Potter gringo stuffed in the random closet like it’s a joke. It’s actually a joke amongst several other volunteers that I’m finally moving out, or in their words, “coming out of the closet.” They even wanted to throw me housewarming party, ever so gently named as Mitch’s coming out of the closet celebration. Jokes and jerks aside, I’m happy to move out of my small closet-like dwelling into something where I have space, so I don’t have another day like the one mentioned above.

P.S.- As I mentioned, my brother is coming to visit, if there is anything anybody would like to send to me or get from Ecuador (souvenirs, fine textiles, etc….) let me know, my email is on this page, ill let you know if I can help.

Entry the Sixth-

June 28th

I recently took a trip to Quito to take care of some business with my student loans. From where I am in Ecuador, Quito is a 10-11 hour bus ride. This trip is a pain in the ass. The best way I have found is to take a night bus that leaves some time before midnight and gets to Quito in the mornings. Because of night hijackings and/or robberies, the night buses don’t make stops and check for weapons whenever boarding. On my trip up, this was the case with a few exceptions… My bus left at 10:30 and we hit our first Police checkpoint at 12:00 where we all had to get out and get frisked by a bunch of heavily armed guys. I think these guys were funny because, much like all the other police and security guards in Ecuador, had way too much armament. They all wear different forms of full-body custom tactical harnesses with sometimes multiple handguns, giant Rambo-knives strapped to the chest and legs, too much ammunition, and my favorite which I saw once, a strap with throwing knives attached to the leg harness. Once again, too many late 80’s and early 90’s films. It goes to figure though; I’ve seen two recruiting advertisements for the national police here. One was a commercial showing a scrawny, undersized kid who got picked on in school and who grew up and became a policeman and got revenge (lawful revenge, mind you) on the bigger kids who used pick on him. The second was a billboard bragging about the qualities of the standard issue handgun that you get when you join the police. It sounds like they’re running an a**hole factory, but maybe that’s the best way to recruit the force they need, I don’t know.

Anyhow, after this we continued on our way. While everyone was asleep, we made an unexpected stop at about 2:00am to pick up this guy on the side of the road. I was awake and was a bit scared because this was incredibly risky. Naturally the only open seat on the bus was next to the gringo. This guy, who was about my age and rather inconspicuous, came and sat down by me and we went to sleep. At about 3:00am we hit another police checkpoint. The lights in the bus went on and we were pulling up to wait our turn to be searched. During this time, my new neighbor started making small talk, telling me he was a student and was studying petroleum extraction in the Amazon. To support his conversation, he produced some cheap little magazine and started flipping through it, clumsily scanning every page to find this certain article. It was about some environmental lawyer he expressed interest in. When he found the page, he immediately thrust the article in front of my face and began fingering the words on the page as if I were a five-year-old. I immediately swatted the magazine away and opened the window. I didn’t get a strong whiff of the powdered scopolamine on the page, but comically so, me swatting the page and the draft from the window spread the powder to other passengers. Two men in the aisle waiting to un-board and one in the seat in front got a dose of the scopolamine and proceeded to rage and curse out the magazines owner. He was eventually thrown off the bus in the middle of nowhere. Though this was a sort of comical event, the fact that I am so vulnerable and there is such a deceptive and ever-present threat is an unsettling feeling. It unnerves me even more because, being that I’m a bigger gingo, Im not so easily robbed without a gun or drugs. So if I am to be robbed, it’s going to be by being drugged or at gunpoint, two situational extremes I do not wish. It’s one I am not accustomed to. It’s very easy to forget I am a highly visible and desired target in this country, especially when I’m so comfortable in my site which is relatively very safe. The exhausting vigilance of traveling here in Ecuador makes me anything but happy or content.

My happiness and sadness, or contentedness or estrangement comes in waves, or periods spurned by certain events such as above. Yes many things that happen here can just as easily happen in the States, it’s just that when I was there they were outside my sphere of experience. But from time to time, distinctly Ecuadorian challenges present themselves to remind me I’m not home.

But I digress, it was good to get up to Quito for a bit to visit some friends and hang out in a nice cool and refreshing climate. I met up with a few old Willamette friends who were in town for a summer Spanish program. It was good to see some faces from what seems like a whole different life, and also to welcome them to my strange new life and circle of friends here. Building bridges, it’s what I’m here for! On another note, Quito is great for DVD shopping, I got a few seasons of The Office. I’m looking for all of season five and I’m convinced I won’t die happy without getting it.

After being here in country since the end of February, I am starting to witness funny little phenomena that haunt my daily doings. It’s not so much that there are weird freaky things going on down here that creep me out (there are plenty of weird things, but I’m used to these), but that I’ve found a major conflict of my native culture in the States and the world I live within now. Let me explain… It’s not that the different culture here is difficult to digest. On the contrary, it’s a wonderful experience. The thing that throws me on my heels is when there are similarities between the two. I love what I’m doing here but I nevertheless miss my home, my old life. It’s an insufferable type of longing because I can’t ever completely assuage this feeling without going home. But there are times when I am deceived.

Though the latest movies are available on pirated DVD here for only a dollar, I still pay the 3-4 dollars for the occasional theater experience for this reason. Upon entering the dark theater, all distinctive signs of Ecuador disappear, the Spanish is still there on the screen but I understand it so it’s not estranging. The lights go down and the movie starts. There is nothing but a black room with an English spoken, Spanish subtitled movie. It’s an engrossing experience just as a movie should be. It’s a story that partially transports your mind to another preoccupation. The empty black décor of the theater helps in this transportation. When the movie is over, I feel like I’m on the sleepy fringe of dreaming and in this moment I cannot tell where I am, the usual post theater drowsiness. This mirage continues all the way out through the dark tunnel into the light world again where I grasp my bearings and identify my surroundings… duh. In this moment of waking up, I like to play with the idea that I’ll be exiting into a theater at home or someplace I familiar. That I have been transported to a theater lobby in California or Oregon in a theater I used to frequent. For a short glimpse, for all my senses can tell, it could be. It’s a sweet little piece of something comfortable, something that resonates with my memory of home. This delusion is quickly shattered by waves of Spanish words and Ecuadorians. It’s a dangerous little illusion that has been haunting me whenever I experience something that parallels whichever memory of an experience in back home. It’s almost like I’m living in the world of the book, “The Giver.” I don’t think it’s the best for my acceptance of life here, but when I miss home this is the closest I can get to actually being there. I guess this is a form of coping mechanism, not sure yet if this will keep me afloat or destroy me internally, but it helps me get by. I figure it’s better than being an alcoholic or having some other physical damper, this way I’m actually conscious of my condition of thought and feeling, Win-Win! I admit the theater thing is a bit stranger that the more usual Emo coping mechanisms like a bottle of wine, chocolate and/or reruns of the movie Garden State (I might have done a combination of these, can’t knock it till you try it). Going home just to be in a comfort zone is not good enough reason, it wouldn’t be a permanent solution (especially one I could live with), I’m sure of that. So, I think it’s best to find ways to weather the tough moments, maybe even indulge in a theater ticket now and then. I think this is part of learning to be more self-reliant, not that I wasn’t before but I’m becoming an expert.

The next step will be stranded on a topical island, maybe a year of service extension in the Galapagos. I don’t know, living amongst Darwin’s subjects would be way too cool. As of late, I’ve been thinking a ton about post Peace Corps plans, or post two years here. The more I think of it, the more of the world I have open to me. I have opportunities to extend a year in the Galapagos (as mentioned above) which would be the experience of a lifetime. I could extend a year in China teaching English at a university, which I would absolutely love to do (and am loosely planning on). I want to learn another language and I think Chinese would be a good one to have under the belt. Because I will have served in the Peace Corps, I get a federal job hiring preference which expands to working for the Peace Corps itself, the State Department, or a number of the federal agencies including the FBI and others of the such. I have an itch to work for the Federal government, live in Washington D.C., and/or to be amongst the cogs and gears of the U.S.. Either way, I’m in no rush for anything. Grad school is also there but not in the ready future, I’m not too sure that’s a commitment to dive into yet, we’ll see. But this is all too early. I have Ecuador to focus on and to see where these next two years take me.

Entry the Fifth.

June 19th

I have spent the past few weeks busy with teaching. My focus has been on Ecology and the environment, but I have had an innumerable amount of requests to teach English. Walking around the market stalls or in the streets I have had students or their parents (sometimes both, which makes for a very pressuring situation) run up and ask if I would do private lessons for them. I have to respectfully decline because right now I just don’t have the time for it. I’m finding that English is a pretty messed up language in that many things aren’t spelled how they sound and vice versa and the roots of the language aren’t as directly Latin as the other romance languages. The one thing I find delightful about all of this is that these kids are absolutely frothing at the mouth to absorb whatever bit of English I blurt out. At the end of class I throw them a little “Gracias por su atencion, see ya later!,” and they scream and holler like I just announced they all won a new car.

I like to help them out here and there with many of the confusing things like common English phrases. For example, today I helped a small group of kids with the meaning of an “uphill battle,” a very interesting conversation ensued with me making many silly and probably not so helpful examples, none of which excluded using myself as an example of the definition. The other day, I just couldn’t help myself. A student asked me what the word “fox” meant in English. I started to explain it’s a dog-like animal that is clever….or it could also be a very good looking woman. This might have been my mistake, or from another point of view my moment of glory. From this point on they wanted to know more. Like a ravenous crowd of French revolutionaries they were screaming bloody murder for more of this double-meaning-goodness. I continued to explain what a ”Silver-fox” is and how the word silver changes the meaning from female to male and adds an upward age limit because of said perceived silver hairs. This was great, but my piece de resistance was the explanation that the word “Cougar” meant on one end a large cat, and the other a sultry, good-looking, rather older than younger woman who went for younger men. Thankfully class ended, I had nothing worthy left to give them. I got a good laugh when I saw a kid show off his new English arsenal to his English teacher by calling her a cougar which was followed by a smile, nod, and confused look. I have succeeded!

The English brings the kids a ton of joy. It’s incredibly fun for them when they can finally read the postcard they got from their pen pal in the States or they can understand what is written on their shirt in English. I remember when I was in high school, I dreaded Spanish class, along with pretty much the majority of the rest of the students. The best part about Spanish was that we had to make a Spanish video which all turned out to be a homemade rendition of a Jackass film with one or two Spanish phrases such as “NO ME GUSTA!” or “Hola, mi nombre es Mitch.” Here in Ecuador the kids strive to learn English. It’s not a bother but a genuine treat. I dearly wish I had that perspective of Spanish in high school. This is partly why I like helping the kids with their English, because they swarm to me and don’t leave me alone until I help them learn a few phrases or check over their homework. I’m sure some social scientist can elaborate on this thought (for I’m far from one), but I heard somewhere that the U.S. is one of a few countries that tends to resist bilingual education. That’s not to say that classes aren’t offered, because believe me they are, it’s more of the lack of drive or motivation to be bilingual when someone isn’t or doesn’t necessarily have to be.

There is a con side to this though, for a huge number of Ecuadorians the English language is a key to the backdoor of the United States. If someone knows English, they can get a better job in the Unites States and send more money back here to Ecuador. In talking to the kids here, I’m finding that many of them have fathers in the states (mostly East Coast) or in Spain working and sending back money. Human trafficking (kidnapping and/or smuggling) is a thriving business here in Ecuador, as with much of Latin America. When I give my English lessons, I like to think to myself I’m helping them with their intellectual openness but part of me fears that I’m slowly opening the wrong doors for them.

I have gotten into somewhat of a life routine here. John, the other volunteer is gone, and my gringo exposure is next to nil. This is good because my integration will speed up as well as my Spanish proficiency. I have been experimenting with cooking Ecuadorian things. To start, the banana is a base and present in nearly everything. Here only maduros, morenos (I think that’s how you say it) and platanos are used and eaten by the Ecuadorians. The smaller, sweeter yellow banana that is imported to the states is laughed at here. I went looking for them in the market one day with a friend who was showing me around and she told me that “those bananas (yellow sweet bananas for export to America) are only liked by gringos and chanchos.” I didn’t know if should have been offended or not. “Chancho” is the most common word for pig here. I think it was more from the point of view that they can’t believe we actually like them, not that we’re pigs. Nevertheless, I’ve taken to maduros. Compared to a common banana, it’s not quite as sweet and has much firmer flesh. I’ve found they are wonderful fried, with mozeralla and dash of salt and/or hot sauce, mashed into balls with other goodies like chives, tomatoes and bread crumbs then sautéed and lightly salted. It sounds unhealthy but in actuality it’s not too bad. The other wonderful thing about this part of Ecuador is the ridiculous abundance of fruit. There is a huge expanse of colors, fragrances, tastes and sizes. Trying to learn all their names is like learning a language from a dictionary. Either way, the fruit is cheap and my blender is huge so the sweltering afternoons are refreshing.

Except for the occasional fried chicken dinner (which I am now convinced is the best chicken of any preparation I’ve ever had), I have taken up a vegetarian-like diet. This isn’t out of conscientious objection to butchering of animal mistreatment, it’s just flat out cheaper. Dairy, fruits, grains, eggs and tuna are extremely cheap compared to buying chicken of beef. If you know me well, I’ve always been a lover of chicken or big ol’ steaks and what not, but I honestly don’t miss it…too much. I think I will continue this way of eating long after the Peace Corps. In addition to being cheap, it’s incredibly healthy and I think my circulatory system will thank me in the end. It’s probably also the reason why my friends and family are ripping on my lack of size on my Facebook profile. Compared to what I was in my football days, I look like a wuss, but then again I don’t play football anymore and that size is expensive and has its consequences. Besides, Ecuador grows some amazing high quality stuff, why not enjoy it to its fullest? I never knew tomato sandwiches were so amazing, it was such a laughable concept to eat a sandwich without a solid protein source before the Peace Corps.

I started playing in the local basketball league. It’s comparable to a county-wide size league in the states, if such a thing exists. Basketball is a funny thing here. First off, we play on nine foot hoops. This isn’t because those are the regulations, it’s just because the league likes doing it this way. It’s great for me because now I can finally live out my wildest basketball move fantasies, much like when as a kid and I used to lower my adjustable hoop in the street so I could do my best impressions of a Michael Jordan highlight reel. In addition the court is much shorter and internationally styled. This is a private court so it is kept up pretty well. I can’t say the same for most other courts in Ecuador which are quickly and irreversibly converted to indoor soccer fields.

I made a comment to a friend one day that I love basketball, and the next weekend I was on this team. The reason why...it’s a team of ringers. We have some of the biggest Ecuadorians I have ever seen in my time here. I am convinced that a few could play defensive line in college and have a ton of success while they’re at it. The level of competition isn’t too bad either. Athletically it was a challenge but as expected with the relative popularity, the technique is a bit off with shots originating from behind the head and drives to the basket resembling a fleeing animal being tranquilized in mid stride. The games have a peculiar formality to them. Strange zone defenses are run (2-1-2, who runs that? Seriously, haha…) while all the offense does is drive like maniacs. Despite this, my first game was an absolute blast. It turns out my team is the favorite of Naranjal, and since the gringo is now on the team, even more people turn out for our games. It tends to get pretty crazy. My nickname was upgraded at the last game. It went from the gringo to “El Russo,” the Russian. This, like many things here such as hair styles, has come from 80’s and early 90’s action films. With me, they were referring to Dolf Lundgren as Ivan Drago in Rocky. Tonight I have my third game with this team. This week I spent a few hours with them teaching a more effective 3-2 zone (since man is apparently out of the question) and the intricacies of help-side-defense and rotation. We should decisively kick ass.

I tried playing soccer the other day and I realize I suck, bad. It was with 6th graders and they tore me apart. Basketball is not too big here, but the level at which soccer is played is absolutely phenomenal. I’m convinced the high school team here could kick the crap out my old university’s team. At recess in the high schools, the courts are full of indoor soccer games. It’s 7-7 and played with a smaller ball. These games get very intense, as a matter of fact they are always intense. Surrounding the games are throngs of other students waiting to play or betting. The kids are playing in their school uniforms, tie and all, while maintaining amazing ball control with their dress shoes or bare feet. Like I said, these kids are real good, I saw one do a bicycle kick on concrete for a shot on goal. The shot was deflected, but the fact the kid had the balls and tenacity to do that on concrete was astounding. I think this is a testament to the level at which soccer is engrained in the people here. It is played constantly from a very young age. The kids don’t go home and watch T.V. or stagnate, they spend the day at school playing a little soccer then after school a few games at the local court. If a kid plays on average one or two games or hours of play for every day of his life, by the time he’s in high school his level of skill will be tremendous. He earned it. This is a belittling concept for me because I cannot readily think of something I have dedicated my life toward that I have embodied every single day, conscious of it or not. There have been stretches of time, years at certain points, but never lifelong, absolute immersion or dedication to said goal. I know I’m taking a simple concept such as soccer skill and morphing it to something more subjective like life achievement. But I believe the mechanism is the same whether in developing a skill or attaining achievement and I can’t help but marvel at such a simple example of it. I won’t bother you with the clichés that apply like something about reaping the sow and pushing oversized rocks around :)

Speaking of pushing a boulder up the hill, I’ve been training for a 10k run in Guayaquil this August. I don’t think I know what I’m getting myself into being that I used to make fun of the cross country runners for “running for fun” or some dumb thing like that. All I know now is that past a certain point, running is equivalent to how well you deal with pain. It’s all about telling your body to shut-up when it starts to not be comfortable. Otherwise I love the running, I find it relaxing if you can believe it. I’m up to completing about 7-8 miles each run, given no rabid stray dogs attack me (which is common, I carry a beating stick or rock) or friends chase me down on motorcycle to chat or give me shots of grain alcohol which I have to explain is not good for me at the moment. I started running when I was back in Oregon, I figured why not do it. Nothing is there to stop me and it couldn’t hurt. I guess it started with a Forest Gump-like view of simplicity, “I just felt like ruuuniiiin!” And just like in a Forest Gump manner (my favorite movie by the way), if you dedicate yourself to something with such a simple zealotry, you might get good at it. I’m hoping to get good enough for the Guayaquil marathon this next January, we’ll see.

June 21st

There are days, or periods of days that really test my faith in what and why I’m here. The night of my basketball game and the following morning were a fine example of this. The game was a tough one. The team we were playing pulled in a few ringers from Guayaquil who were taller than me but no thicker than my wrist, but who still liked to get physical, my kind of game. We didn’t do so well. Their tall guys were absolutely destroying the highlight-reel lay-up attempts of my teammates. This led to frustration within my team and infighting, yelling and bickering. About half of my team has that nice little sports disease called “I-can’t-be-responsible-for-myself-so-I-yell-at-others-itis.” My and another guy on the team shared the majority of the points and almost all of the rebounds and yet were continually yelled and screamed at for things that didn’t even apply to our positions. It really became a disaster. On top of it I jammed two fingers, twisted an ankle and re-twinged an old football foot pain. I was not in a good mood, and it takes quite a bit to do that.

I went to bed exhausted only to be woken at 7:30 by my counterpart who sent a bunch of my high school students to wake me for a bike excursion. So I dragged myself out of bed, dressed myself in shorts and t-shirt and stumbled out the door to find a bike. After acquiring a bike, the old rusty mountain bike of my counterpart with worn road tires, we met up at the high school. Out of 75 students, only 11 showed, nevertheless we forged on! According to our leader, our destination was the remains of an Incan road that was next to hot springs. This was enticing considering the beating I took the previous night and I looked forward to this. Two minutes into the trip my rear tire burst. Onward! I found a repair shop and was on my way again after 20 min., five minutes later the students were laughing at me because the same tire flattened again. Back to the repair shop and onward, again! We were on our way, bouncing and rebounding off the giant boulders in the road. This was not a normal gravel road, it had big giant boulders that loved to stop you in your tracks or deflect your front tire in a direction you don’t want to go. I was bringing up the rear as a sort of shepard and witnessed the kids struggling in front of me. There were boys and girls zig-zagging all over the two lane road, falling, slipping, doggedly pedaling or walking their bicycles. It reminded me of the scene in the movie “Saving-Private Ryan” when the soldiers were storming the beaches of Normandy, except here it they were doing it on bikes and the beach never ended. There wasn’t one bit of complaining though, that was until our leader, my counterpart, would zip by us on his dirt-bike then tell us to “hurry up” and “what’s taking you guys so long.” An hour into the trip my chain snapped and this delayed us another 30 min. while we had a farmer help us fix it. The road turned for the worse, we entered the longer leg of our journey and part of our destination which was supposed to be a tourist place. It is called “El Bosque de las Piedras,” or the rock forest. It was basically a large piece of land strewn with large boulders and cacao and orange trees dispersed amidst. After two more hours of bouncing, I had already accepted the fact that I would never be able to have kids because of irreparable damage done by this evil road and cursed bike. Finally, we arrived!...at an irrigation ditch. Don’t get me wrong, ditches can be fun, I remember going with my dad and brothers to catch crawdads in the irrigation ditches around Manteca, but we drove. There was no hot spring, there was no river, there was a cement irrigation ditch with cold water (which actually wasn’t too bad on my bruising) that had a little pool that one could dive in. My counterpart said he forgot, the springs weren’t there but in another place for another time. After this announcement, I think I was the only one who was a bit angry. The kids accepted it like it was whatever and proceeded to make the best of the situation and turned this irrigation ditch into a scene reminiscent of the old Manteca Waterslides. I realized the only thing making myself angry at this point was, indeed, me. Yes, we had been let down but the kids are used to this and decided to just roll with it. This is something that from my experience, I’m pretty sure would not go uncontested in the States, but here I’ve noticed that promises or plans are very subject to change. I knew flexibility was a key trait of a Peace Corps Volunteer, I think I was being tested here. After this, things got better. Since the first leg was an uphill trip, the return trip was a fun downhill coast. The kids and I were bouncing around the rocks, swerving and cutting like we were being chased in a movie. Occasionally we would stop and knock some oranges out of a tree or crack a cacao pod to smell or suck on the seeds. It was incredibly dangerous but also an awesome thrill ride. My road tires were terrible on the rocks, and I’m pretty sure I bent the frame of the bike and dented up the rims. This was all fun and games until my pedal fell off. At that point I said to myself “Really?... I mean really?”

It was a nice stroll home through the cacao and citrus orchards. The countryside here is a beautiful and relaxing atmosphere with an antique way of life in many parts. I arrived home exhausted, dazed, dehydrated and itching like hell from the assortment of bug bites I got (the bugs in the country don’t suck blood nice and neat like mosquitoes, they leave an absolute mess of un-coagulated blood). I was able to cancel out the day with a few of the giant, cold, cheap beers here, my favorite fried chicken from this cart around the corner from me, and two 1$ bootleg films that are still in the theaters in the states. What Ecuador did to me early, it had undone later. The day was a long adventure and nice little personal lesson.

April 6th I have found out my site for the next two years! I even went there for a little visit for a few days to meet my counterpart and other important people in the pueblo. Our sites were presented to us at our meeting place in Ayora in a style much akin to a professional sports draft session. After showing the rest of the people in my group how to run through a high-five tunnel the proper way, I found that my site is way south in the province of Guayas. I will be working in the city of Naranjal developing ecotourism destinations, environmental education, and conservation development. I can certainly branch off of these topics as it pertains to whatever needs my community expresses to me. So yeah, Naranjal is on the coast, well sort of. More like deep in the bay of Guayaquil. There are no big beaches and whatnot, but it is sunny, hot, humid, and full of a ton of action. The coastal people of Ecuador are almost a completely different culture. The sierrans are more clearly spoken, more conservative in dress and behavior. Costenos, totally opposite, Haha. They speak super fast, cut words in half and don’t pronounce the “s” sound. The hot and humid climate of the coast dictates that dress be much more scant compared to up here in Cayambe. That means wearing shorts and not being looked at funny. The town of Naranjal is special because it is on a road that connects two major cities, and is surrounded by numerous awesome tourist destination and natural beauties. My contact here that I will be collaborating with is a director of tourism for the municipal government. Part of my purpose down here is to develop the surrounding area for tourism to draw people to Naranjal, and to protect the natural areas. Well within a two-hour drive of Naranjal there are the very rare and endangered dry tropical forests, cloud forests, high sierra paramo, an Incan road and tombs, indigenous Shuar tribe community, and the best crab fishing in Ecuador. Yeah, im gonna be eating a lot of crab, I hope. I went on a trip to visit my site last Sunday, as did the rest of us trainees. We went by ourselves to visit our communities, and like I said before, get to know our sites a little bit. My trip was a hefty one. It took me over 12 hours to get from Cayambe to Naranjal, all by buses. The first part was fine as my friend Whit and I (traveling buddy who’s site is in the same province) descended out of the nice cool sierra. Then, we got to the coast and were immediately smacked with the ridiculous humidity and perpetually sweaty skin…for the next nine hours;) It wasn’t that bad though, we got to see an entirely different part of Ecuador. Lush tropical forests didn’t escape sight, banana and cacao plantations everywhere, and big slow moving rivers. No llamas here, It’s a completely different world in this part of the country. When I arrived at my site, it was night and was greeted by my counterpart who was extremely friendly and even knew a little English. This was helpful as I could not understand the local way of Spanish speaking if my life depended on it. I have a unique situation here in Naranjal, I do not have a host family to stay with. Instead, I will live alone and have to make all my intimate family-like greetings myself. The Peace Corps did set up an association with a neighboring family for the future, so they will act as my distant surrogate family. For the visit though, I stayed in a little hotel in town that my counterpart set up for me as home base for the three days. During my visit I was lucky to meet a large handful of people in this community who are very passionate and enthusiastic about my coming to Naranjal. I am the first volunteer to actually serve for Naranjal and the larger surrounding area together. Yeah, I forgot to mention that, I’m not just working in a city, I’m doing projects for both the city of Naranjal, AND the entire canton, (similar to a county in the states). I have a TON of work ahead of me, in many different areas, some clean work and some dirty machete-hacking, mud-sloshing deliciousness. I have a ridiculous amount of freedom here for creativity. Anyhow, I had the fortune to chat with some very enigmatic citizens of Cayambe. Within the group of families and individuals I spoke with, there is a common thread of thought that connects them all. Via big crazy, bombastic speeches delivered to me in fast Spanish, they yearn for community organization, the destruction of apathy in the town and are tired of flaky efforts. Now, whether I can put a dent in lazy people or not as a gringo (white person) tying to motivate thousands of people, we will see. But I do have my work cut out for me, there is absolutely no motivation for putting a piece of trash in a trash can, or other things of the such. I hope my Env. Ed. Students like recycling;) In helping clean up Naranjal a little, this also helps my mission of tourism. Despite the daunting task in front of me, I am extremely excited to serve here. One day when I was wandering around town in the early morning, I kid you not my counterpart busted out of a random building scaring me to the point of taking a low, fight or flight stance. He had a huge smile on his face and was decked out in outdoor gear. He shouted “Mitch, Buenos dias, venga conmigo!” (basically, hi, follow me). We went to a truck with a crew cab full of four reporters from the Guayaquil newspaper “El Telegrafo”. We were apparently headed to go show these reporters the Incan ruins and highlands. I hopped in the bed with one of the reporters and my counterparts younger assistant Anita. We headed out of town and up into the mountains near by. These mountains were absolutely beautiful. They were massive and transitioned form lowland tropical forests, to cloud forests that looked more like lush green Velcro with cotton balls stuck to it, and finally the high mountain paramo. I wish I had taken my camera because i saw the most beautiful vistas I have ever seen in my life. During the climb, we drove through cloud layers, much like a plane would upon accent. It was like there were floors to the sky. We reached our destination at the top, a muddy little unmarked road that we had to double back to find. We all piled out and followed the road which led to a trail. This trail followed the mountain ridge over the peaks and through the troughs. This environment was absolutely amazing. We were eye level , then above the clouds, like that scene from top gun where he takes the photo upside down. There was an eerie quietness to this place, yet a constant swish of the clouds as they rushed by you. There literally rivers of clouds that you could leave a slip stream in as you passed through it. The clouds were pouring over this range from the jungle on the other side, to the coast. The delicate swishing murmur of the clouds were accompanied by the buzz of gold and red hummingbirds, some species of eagle swooping around, and orange and blue wasps buzzing around. It was a surreal part of the earth. The surrounding clouds also served as a veil and didn’t allow sight beyond a certain point in some cases. It was creepy to see a bird fly out of it, or a horse suddenly appear out of the crazy low flying clouds. After a few miles of hiking, chatting to reporters, and picture taking with the photographers, we arrived at the Incan road. We followed it up to the ancient tombs and dwellings. I hope to return here with others one day. If any of you visitors of mine stop by for long and are looking for a hike, we will definitely take this trip. Another cool thing about my site is that a volunteer already lives in the city and knows many people in addition to do’s and don’t’s here. His lives in Naranjal, but has a site nearby in the mangrove forests at a little crab-fisherman village. I spent a considerable amount of time hanging out with him and another volunteer who live 30min. down the road. From what I take of it, it can be a pretty cool place to be in, and in other times frustrating. But then again, I didn’t join the Peace Corps to be unflexible and particular. So yeah, that’s my site. Im excited as hell and plan to hit the ground running with a few solid ideas I have to get my service started. Aside from my site stuff, things have been kinda funny lately. I have found myself dancing in front of large groups of people almost every day. I have danced with 80 yr old ladies, dirty danced with other, did formation dancing to raggaeton (Pretty much latin rap, it’s a wide category), I’m pretty good with cumbia and meringue, but my salsa gets a ton of laughs. It’s really not that hard though. Some Ecuadorian friends of mine gave me some advice for dancing here, he said (in Spanish obviously) “Mitch, you have the rhythm, but you need to move your butt way more like this”… he proceeded to do multi-directional pelvis thrusts. Low and behold these graphic, outlawed-in-the-states dance moves were magical, you shake or move your ass extra hard, and Latin dancing just works and feels right. Even the songs seem to go with the movement. “Everyone does it, it’s the coolest!”. Even if you don’t have the steps, shimmyin’ the shoulders and shaking the ass will get you far (think Ben stiller in ‘Along came Polly,’ …oh yes) But yeah, here in Ecuador (and prob. elsewhere in the Latin world, can’t be sure though) EVERYBODY dances. No questions at all, everyone, all the time, all hours, drunk, sober, doesn’t matter. We had an hour long dance party at our training center at 8:30 in the morning. It’s a blast though, whether you’re good or look like an absolute idiot (I hang around the latter part the spectrum) dancing is integral here. Other than that, nothing much is new. This next weekend I head out for a 9 day technical trip around the country. We essentially travel and camp around different places learning stuff. I’m sure I will have some good stories from this endeavor, I won’t forget my camera this time. May 10th Happy mothers day! So I pretty much suck at the whole blog things, but I have a good excuse, our lives as trainees has been incredibly hectic. My entire world has changed. I’ve moved on from the sierran community of Cayambe , sworn in as a volunteer, and am now an official PCV in my site of Naranjal. I went from wearing alpaca scarves to sweating my balls off in my hammock in front of my little hole in the wall dwelling in Naranjal… I take that back, my dwelling is so small I need to string one end of the hammock in the far corner of my room and the other through my doorway to a post outside, I soo fit in here its not even funny. Before you know it Ill be carrying my chickens on the bus in a reused rice sack and talking about how I love naranjas (oranges) :) So yes, that 9 day technical trip was amazing. Since my site is in the coast, and I’m in the natural resource program, I went on a coastal trip with eight of so other of similar situation. Ill spare you the verbal details and just post pictures to tell the story. It was a blast though, we got to make trails in a reserve, wake up to the echoing shouts of howler monkeys in a tropical forest, body surfed on beautiful uninhabited beaches, machete battled…etc. It was a good time. After the tech trip, we were just biding our time until we were sworn in as volunteers. I had the equivalent of senioritis the last week or so. The Peace Corps gave us little to no time or flexibility to enjoy our last few days in Cayambe, which had become a home to us. Cayambe had grown on me to the point that I would be overwhelmed with comfort when returning to it, much the way one would when returning home from a long stay away. We moved on up to Quito where we stayed in a hostel together on lockdown (Ecuador was having elections, PC standard procedure to take precautions during such times). Anyhow, we stayed there, had debriefings, close of training stuff, did a little touristy trip. I almost got mowed down by president Correa’s motorcade, got an ok picture though. My buddy Griggs was lucky enough to have had a little verbal exchange with him. Word has it that Correa likes go out and about Quito on bike rides and strolls, something unheard of for many presidents in this world. After all of this, on our second to last day (third for me…) we had a nice reception at the amazing residence of the U.S. ambassador to Ecuador. It was a great ceremony, I got to meet to ambassador and chat for awhile. She is a very funny lady with absolutely amazing stories of her experiences throughout the world. In true fashion of myself, I broke the ice with an awkward comment….So the ambassador has this little Yorkshire terrier with long hair and is about the size of a, oh say… Guinea pig…so when she let the dog out of the mansion and it came tearing through our feet, I didn’t know what it was so I yelled “It’s a cuy, HAHAHA” (cuy=guinea pig). She immediately scoffed at me, I felt bad and apologized to the dog, I even took a picture with the pup. Later that night we had an excellent party at this amazing Italian eatery, club, bar-like place. The place had some tasteful art, great food and drinks, and was packed full of us newly sworn in PCV’s and a ton of visiting PCV’s that came to Quito to celebrate with us. It was a great night until a friend touched me and noticed my arm was super hot. Later that night, half comatose in a bed with the wonderful angel of a nurse who was aiding me, helped me find out I had a 104 deg. temperature. This persisted through until the next morning. We were all supposed to head to our sites the next morning, hang-over or not, but there was no way that was happening to me without seeing the medical officer. He gave me some meds and kept me in Quito for the night to monitor progress. It wasn’t the flu because of certain delightful contra indicatory symptoms (or lack thereof), though at the time I thought karma was giving me a nice kick in the ass, I had spent the preceding days making fun of the Porcine flu epidemic’s exaggerated presence. As soon as I got the first temp reading from myself, I had to chuckle. But yes, I have since departed from my home of Cayambe, my 2nd family, my friends, my love, my sense of community and security. I spent the last week sweating, straining to understand the strange (fast and lazy, if you can imagine such qualities in a language) costeño Spanish accent, teaching environmental education classes at the high schools here, and putting together my life. For the first three months, I have to live in the housing that the Peace Corps set up for me awhile back when they were seeking out and developing the site. I live in a little concrete box. It’s humble, dirty, has creepy carnie-sized hand prints all over, and can function much like a solar oven. It has the ability to retain a ton of heat, so a fan was one of the first things I had to buy. Next on the list, the bathroom outside my room doesn’t have a toilet seat, so I should probably work on that. I have been incredibly fortunate though, the volunteer here that is leaving in a few weeks had opted to give me and sell other things that he used. Among the loot, a really nice bed (even in U.S. standards), a refrigerator, hammock, table, shelves, tons of books, tools, other odds and ends. In addition, he had been an invaluable tool in helping me start working relationships here. Not to mention sharing all of his hard earned experience with what restaurants are good, which are bad, where to go at night and what not to do here and there. Other that running around Naranjal with John and my counterpart doing whatever, I have finally hit that nice little emotional wall that is characteristic of the Peace Corps. It has definitely been an Emo week for me. Much reading and busy work has got me through, as well as just closing my eyes and thinking slowly. I don’t know what it is though, I never really felt to out of place or knocked off my game yet in the PC until now. I live by myself , so I don’t have a live in family to constantly socialize with, (thought I have been introduced to some cool families that might suffice this in the future, but it’s not the same). I don’t think it has completely hit me yet only because I’m not the only gringo in town. I have a culturally similar outlet available, but not for long. Either way, I am starting to feel the depths of the solitude that I’ve been warned about. Eh well, I figure I’ll just do what has propelled me though adverse situations before…just shut up and deal with it!(size wasn’t the only thing I gained from football, I also heed that advice I gave you awhile back Christopher that you remind me of constantly (only…) …AAWWW YYAAA BABE). Ah yes, I won’t mention it explicitly much after this solely because it’s none of the grand publics damn business, but yes, I have a girlfriend. She is a volunteer up in the super high-altitude city of Riobamba and is delightfully inappropriate with “that’s what she said” comments. She is about a seven hour bus trip away I believe, which isn’t really too bad but we still wish it was closer. So for the next few months, I will be doing some teaching, planning, community needs assessments, and getting to know my new home. I am incredibly excited, I will be working with the entire canton (like county) so I will get to dabble in the starting or development of tourism in the mangroves (sea kayaking for a job, WWWOOOOOO!!!!!), tropical forests (complete with monkeys), paramo, ancient ruins, and a few other odds and ends. May 13th So I’ve learned that there is also honey-moon phase to cultural adjustment. Yesterday was a day I will remember for some time. I know that Ecuadorian culture is much different from American culture but I am starting to witness situations that I don’t believe are entirely of cultural consequence. Yes at times the Latin machismo can make for some absolutely looney scenes, not far off from a circus. Think riding a dirt bike with one hand on the bars, baby grabbing on in the front, other driver’s hand using cell phone and pulling a tight corner. Sometimes it’s just mind boggling and comical. The other day in class with my counterpart, we were preparing to begin class. As prearranged, I was going to do a review on what an ecosystem was at the beginning. So as we get settled in the class of seventy or so students, my counterpart feels the movement of the spirit within him and takes the class on a ride to the stars. I will preface this with the fact that my counterpart has no solid science background and not a clue of what a critical thinking process is, though he is quite knowledgeable about tourism. He started doing my review for me and then, without hesitation, kept the ball rolling, hell why not!?! Before I knew it the kids were getting their little blank little mental slates filled with lessons of symbiosis and how the environment fits together in balance much like society. Kind of a stretch, but it could work, open minds here... When these balances are unsettled, the world breaks out into war and resources become scarce. Apparently this is why America fights with, and in Iraq and the whole world will be a desert if we break food chains. Oh but it gets better… the subject switched to genetics and an explanation of genotypic symbiosis across all human races. The kids got a little of what a phenotype is and even got random “wow” statistics that weren’t all completely true. I felt like the kids were getting prepped for a Jeopardy appearance. The thing that lets me know (sorry for the cliché) I’m not in Kansas anymore is the fact that this is digested without a modicum of curiosity or question. In this light though, my counterpart’s psychedelic mind journey into the study of everything makes it really easy for me to identify something for me to work on here. As a community member, I’m starting to make friends of all shapes and sizes here. From groups of snickering immature teenagers, the old lady I buy yogurt from that glares at me suspiciously, to the absolutely huge man Poncho with an absolutely massive machete scar across his whole face who makes me take shots of moonshine whenever he spots me in town. I find myself taking alternate routes to see certain people, and avoid others, especially if I don’t feel like getting hammered off moonshine at nine in the morning before class. I find myself finally settling down into the relaxed pace of life and work here. Yet, the product of me sitting back relaxing in my hammock under the beautiful Ecuadorian sun is a dream of back home. Just as I dreamed of being in Ecuador doing EXACTLY what I am doing right now, I long to hang out in my back yard with my two dogs, share stories with my friends under a not-so-distant pretense, to enjoy being sheltered from Oregonian or Washingtonian rainy day, I miss pine trees and the cascades…for that matter I miss the NW so profoundly it hurts. It’s funny how I escaped to another country only to look back and reflect in the manner I’m doing. Don’t get me wrong, I have no intention of leaving, I absolutely love Ecuador. But I feel that being here has broken my habit of being accustomed to America. It is stripping me of a “hand to mouth” approach to life. For this, I feel in the end I could be a better person, and for that a better American. May 20th This week has been going amazingly! I started my first full week of actual teaching here. By “actual”, I mean free from my counterparts enthusiastic but false and mildly hilarious interjections. For instance, the “H1N1” designation for the porcine flu virus is NOT a name of binomial nomenclature, the type of name such as Homo sapiens. Either way, I bargained for the entire class period every other week. This week was my first rotation. I put together this huge (and might I say marvelous) lesson plan complete with an introduction to ecological concepts, the animal kingdom, binomial nomenclature, and a little about evolution that is to be continued later. It was absolutely amazing to see the kids respond to material. I had gathered a few “WOW-factor” statistics to science topics that pertained to the amazing biodiversity and nature that surrounds these kids. From what I saw, they ate it up. Challenging them to critically think about a concept or situation, without helping them form an opinion, turned out to be an electrically stimulating event for some of the classes. I am starting to get to know these kids on a more personal level. At first I thought I was doomed with the huge class sizes, but it turns out they aren’t too bad, especially after sub-teaching in the states. My ultimate goal is to get together a small group of students who have a passion for the sciences and who wish to organize weekend field trips into the different jungles, high altitude paramo, kayaking trips in the mangroves and other eco-destinations. I hope this helps to further advance their understanding and motivation, hopefully to give them some momentum into a career that will ultimately help their country in this area. It’s kind of like an academic “cherry on top.” I think that’s the general goal of teaching anyhow, to try to inspire or allow youth to pursue which ever calling they are drawn toward and to make a positive difference in the trajectory of these kid’s lives. All that aside, it’s pretty much just an excuse for me to chat about dorky science topics with people that like to hear such things. The group of kids I want to gather will hopefully be ones who have that itch of wondrous curiosity or crave the sense of humility when immersed in the natural world. So yes, I am extremely excited for the next few upcoming weeks and seeing what more opportunities present themselves or I can make around here. I was brought here to do ecotourism, but I‘m finding that there are many systemic prerequisites rather to just jumping right on in. In other news, John, the other volunteer that was in Naranjal, has now left. After a week of exhaustive goodbye parties and “last-time’s,” he’s finally out of here. It’s a bittersweet thing for me because on the plus, I got a super discounted refrigerator, fan, table, stove and gas tank and a ton of other little goodies. The bitter, I am now the only English speaking gringo in town now. It’s a feeling of incredible loneliness to be somewhere strange and not have someone within constant earshot who entirely understands what I’m going through, or my condition in general. Then again, compared to other PCV’s I got it really easy moving into my site nice and slowly. Maybe now my Spanish will start progressing at a faster rate. No more sitting down with a beer ranting about what crazy antics I witnessed today. Then again, that’s what cell phones are for. Oh yeah, and what a jerk, our last night out he (almost anticipating the following antics) introduced me to a very popular transsexual in Naranjal, who snuck around to the side of me when I wasn’t paying attention. I felt something touching my hand, spinning my head to the side to find my fingers engulfed in a mouth. The others were laughing, John half laughing/half amazed, I think I sharted. I got a nice pat on the back and “welcome to Naranjal.”

Hace una samana…… March 7th Things have been quite well, my Spanish education is progressing quite smoothly. The Peace Corps boasts the most intensive language learning program in the world (at least to us). So far I’m impressed. I feel I’m fully capable of getting done what I need to in this country. Which begs the question, what exactly does the peace corps do? I have heard this question so many times it started to actually annoy me. The Peace Corps is not an extension of the U.S.’s suggested phallic nature. We are sent abroad upon invitation and demand of the host country. There is actually a waiting list of the world for Peace Corps programs to start up in the respective countries. Us sojourners are sent overseas or far away from home in order to help the said people with the leadership, training, and assistance as requested. In doing so, we are by nature ambassadors of our country. Critics have slammed the Peace Corps for not having the most technically qualified staff that they can get. Technical efficiency aside, one must realize that the Peace Corps mission CANNOT be accomplished without the respect and attention of the host people. We are not here do the work ourselves, we are here to guide, enable, and assist the host nation in meeting its standards for development and progression. So yeah, we are not an extension of the Washington monument, we are enablers, selected for optimum cultural assimilation and technical competence, both factors balancing equally. A week has passed since I have been dropped off at my new family’s house in Cayambe. It is incredible to try to think of how time has passed so fast yet so much has been done. I wake up at 5am every morning and go to bed at 8 or 9pm, yet I have a full a day as I have ever had. My head is constantly being pummeled with Spanish conditioning. I eat up as much as I can, but at times I need to relax. My family makes fun of me because of the accent I am developing. In the Ecuadorian Sierra, they pronounce certain words differently. Those of you coming to visit, take notice. For example, when saying Cayambe, one would stress the “Y” like when saying the word “Young.” In Ecuador they would pronounce the “Y: sound almost like the the “J” in “John,” but a bit softer. The same goes for double “rr’s” and double “ll”s.” Not many roll their r’s like a motorcycle, you sound like an a**hole if you always do like is done in Mexico (learned the hard way). My family is an exception, they are actually from Colombia, so they pronounce things a more internationally normal way, hence their ridicule of my attempted localization. As far as training goes, my days are completely compacted with as much cross culturall, technical, and language education that they can crammed, with a little time at the end to enjoy one of the big ass pilsner beers they have here. It has been fun, but at time a little freaky. The other day my non-English speaking language facilitator gave us the task of entering a bank in order to get information on starting a checking account. This meant scouring the absolutely packed bank for information on both of its floors. Unfortunately it didn’t go so well the first time. A bunch of confused looking gringos wander into a bank in separate, equidistant directions. Yeah, no bueno. The security guards were absolutely shitting their pants trying to keep an eye on us wandering around using terrible Spanish. Mind you these are heavily armed security guards not used to seeing gringos enter with a perfectly scattered pattern to cover every corner of the bank… yeah, no bueno. But yes, things have been well. Yesterday we went to learn how to do Organic farming in a small community called Pirohuantag (or something like that), by Tabacundo. We went to the farm of am amazing man. He is a lives as a model or guiding example for the rest of his country, and potentially the global community. He runs an integrated farm, a farm which does not rely on the public infrastructure for energy or sustenance. A combination of rainwater collection, solar panels, and sustainable small animal and vegetation production is his recipe. This may not be universal, obviously, but is perfect for those in Ecuador who whither the land and wonder why their land runs out of potential with the year round growing season. There, our Peace Corps crew learned how to make several types of organic fertilizer (I included my input on the fish fertilizer recipe, they were interested for coastal projects, thank you Jeff Stevens!). We learned about greenhouse structure and function, seed bed construction and implementation, grafting, farming conventions such as crop timing, worm beds, and last but not least, cuy production. Yes cuy, or cuyee/cuye, the kichwa name for guinea pig. We learning the cutting edge ways to breed, raise, maintain and slaughter the little guys. Low and behold, they have probably one of the healthiest meats that a human can eat, unfortunately there isn’t much of it on one animal. As of now, I’m beginning to more clearly see the Peace Corp’s role in their communities, the motivation we bring to unorganized communities, to foster the change the country wishes, and our own personal experience as we learn to deal with the wonderful phenomenon of culture shock. The funny thing I have seen of our PCV trainers, and where I hope I get to with my integration, is a sort of cultural equilibrium where you know either language or custom almost as more as yours. Often I see the PCV’s needing to be reminded of certain English words. This level of exposure, I believe, is necessary for the position of PCV’s to carry out their purpose and motivate communities of what started as absolutely foreign people. Today was great, I wandered around Cayambe, chatted with my mother, my real mother from los estados ;) Today at noon, I met up with the large majority of my Peace Corps group and we ran around Cayambe before we made it back to my house and all 25 or 30 of us hung out on the roof of my room, enjoying a ton of the local beer and sharing stories of past and current situations with our new families in country. It was an amazing time, to come together amongst the most foreign of circumstances, and finding the most beautiful of it all. It was good times, good scenery, and a welcome release from the intense week we had. Eight more to go, yay…. March 15th To those wanting to travel to sound America, heed this story, maybe you have already know of this but either way it was quite the excitement. This Saturday we took a cultural learning trip to Otavalo, a city known for its massive markets of animals and merchandise of which most of the vendors are indigenous non-mestizo peoples. Also, because of this fame, it’s an international tourism hotspot. We arrived early in the morning at about nine with three other language learning groups from the P.C.. Our group of 4 students (including me) and our language teacher strolled through to the epicenter of the markets where textiles and other handmade goodies were. Once we got there, our teacher gave us the assignment of going around by ourselves, asking questions and learning names of cultural artefacts, and best of all, to regatear! My favorite! The verb regatear means to bargain, or argue for a better deal. I suck at this in English, but it’s a blast in Spanish. Arguing with the very very shrude little indigenous ladies is an absolute blast, and it saves money. One tried to sell me an alpaca scarve for 8$, but I worked her down to two for 5.50, oh yeah, im that good. Anyhow, I was strolling down this one street alone, (key concept here, alone) and three older women dressed semi professionally, kinda like tourism liaisons. They are talking to me about a deal with train rides or some bullshit, then they brought out the pamphlets. They kinda surrounded me and were giving me their sales pitch, I repeatedly told them “no vale, no vale, yo no lo cuido,” (I don’t care, not important to me). I pushed them aside and kept on my way, yet they persisted, for about a 20yard stroll. Finally, disarmed by their persistence, I stopped and listened, strangely one jogged off around the corner. The other kept pissing me off, I grabbed the pamphlet they had and immediately threw it in the garbage. They smiled and took off rapidly, not talking to any other tourists. I kept walking for about 30yard, and then WHAM! Slowed vision, tachycardia, clouded coordination, all of which later I found out were classic for a very common drug by the name of scopolamine. I was lucky though, one; im a big guy so I need a lot to go down, like a dart in the neck or something, “Dude, you got a freaking dart in your neck!:)” and second; that I immediately threw the inoculated pamphlet in the garbage, not holding on to it long. I got my bearings about me, I felt a little drunk, all I could clearly hear was the ferocious thumping of my heart as I tried to be kinda like the completely drunk guy trying to play sober. I tried to play cool because I anticipated the act wasn’t over yet, I tried to act unaffected and kept an eye over my shoulder for the cleanup crew. Fortunately, my mind was perfectly unaffected, so I could soundly plan my course of action. I remained around the multitude of English speaking tourists in case I need immediate help and I could blurt out the plight. Luckily, I got to two very enthusiastic military police who were more than happy to scour the area with their buddies. After about 30 mins. I found my a few of my group members, after an hour, the affects of the drug were pretty much gone. I was VERY lucky, next time I know not to touch ANYTHING that anyone gives your or is handing out. I’ve heard of clever little schemes where even receipts or a 20$ bill on the ground are soaked in the stuff, all it takes is a touch. Scopolamine is very common here, it can be made from the belladonna plant naturally and is manufactured in massive quantity here in Ecuador. In low doses its an effective remedy for altitude sickness, in higher doses in induces almost a kind of stupor. Victims of malicious doses become incredibly docile, even to point of obeying the commands of their robbers. I have heard stories of people emptying out their bank accounts while under the influence and handing it over to whomever. The other convenient thing is that in many cases, the victims have no complete memory of what happened. So that was my scare. Basically, you got to be on your game. From what most of the Peace Corps people have told me, Its always when you think your one of the countrymen and you let your guard down is when you get robbed, mugged, or so forth. In general, there are a lot of people here that need/want what’s in your pocket. Lesson learned! March 18th Today was a blast, I got to dance as a “diablo-humas”. Basically, it was a chance for my buddy Griggs and I to dance around like jackasses with the our Spanish teachers in front of the rest of the Peace Corps Ecu. Staff and trainees. Once again, if I find decent internet, I will upload the pictures:). March20th The end of week 3, cinco mas semanas and Im at my new site, with a new family, and a mission to do what I was brought here for. This next week, I find out where I will be headed in Ecuador for the next two years of my life. I think it is most likely the dense, sparsely populated Oriente (Amazon), or the hot tropical costa. Both have their advantages and disadvantages, The costa being hot and humid and a disease/crime hotspot, but having a nice supply of amazing social perks,beaches, and enough cebiche to make me sick. The oriente is great because it’s the jungle and I have a deep seated passion to act like Bear Grylls, plus the biodiversity is ridiculous. Either way, im excited, the hairier, the better! This past week we learned how to cook in the backwoods, how to prepare foods, what foods are excellent staples, how to use a dutch oven, etc… Speaking of food, I have been eating bastante(a lot) but I still managed to lose three holes on my belt. I eat, tons of bread, eggs, ridiculous amounts of fruits (a new species of banana and mango for each day of the week!), chicken and rice are staples for lunch and dinner, and fresh fruit juice all is everywhere! My host mom is the lead mess hall cook for the biggest local flower farm here, so she is an amazing cook that always has a hot pan on the stove. I think the reason Im not fatter than hell right now is because I walk EVERYWHERE! Not sure exactly how far, but im absolutely beat at the end of every day. Because of this, im having my mom (thanks Mom and DAD!) send me some smaller pants. Another note, I got my cell phone a few days ago! I can’t call internationally, but I can receive international call. Furthermore, I can text internationally but it costs a ton. I can receive internationally texts at no cost to me. So feel free to give me a shout, here is the number: 011-593-09-488-5114. Give me a shout; if you wanna chat in Spanish Id always welcome the opportunity. My Spanish is getting wayyy better, enough to chat and joke with the locals (and not actually be the joke). More will come once I get my site location, next weekend I get to go stay with my newest family for three days to say hello and meet local officials before I return here, Im sure I will have more to blurb about then.

Chevere!

It has been some time since my pre-departure scramble, bout time for an update.

So I left Sacramento that Monday on the 23rd, arrived in D.C. at the hotel relatively late, checked in, yada yada… This is where the interesting stuff begins. That night I met a group of early arrivals who flew in the night before like myself, in order to begin the next days activities on time. Its amazing when you gather around people who have the same motives as you because things just WORK. The next day was similar, but on a grander scale, the rest of our class of 46 has arrived. Along with the group, I was saturated by a flood of great stories and unprecedented companionship. These people I’m with are flat out amazing, most my age, but some older (up to 60’s), a kaleidoscope of graduate degrees/ educational backgrounds, and some very well seasoned travelers who speak multiple languages or dialects. I’m quite humbled amongst them, but extremely excited to completely immerse myself in these volunteers and a country for two years. After our orientation, we haul all of our massive baggage to the airport to head on down to Quito!

(Febrero 25-27)

Quito, this city is massive. We had a nighttime arrival and looking down from the plane the city was like a massive carpet of candles in a rough sea. It is situation at around 9,000ft elevation in a valley amongst the massively protruding Andean Sierra. We are to stay at a hostel in town for a few days while we get acclimated to the altitude (sucks the wind right out of you) and do orientation and other stuff at the Peace Corps HQ there in town. This is a town not for the faint of heart, absolutely INSANE driving, stray dogs all over, widespread poverty, and crime that would make any gringo not in a group of 3+ scared. This was an amazing time though, and a wonderful chance to bond, share good times and thoughts of the future with the rest of the volunteers. Here, I have witnessed something I have never before in my life of organized endeavors. Whether it be eating, drinking, learning, or whatever we were doing around Quito, every volunteer was socially compatible with the other. That is to say that absolutely NO cliques were formed, not a whisper of trash talking, just flat out human to human altruism. Everyone could carry on a 2-3 hour conversation with everyone else. This is new to me and I find it quite amazing, but I realize that in time, we will all need each other for support at some point, and everyone must be able to deliver. At the point in time I’m writing this, im beginning to understand it.

Our time in Quito is a blast, we spend 12hrs of daylight (and some night, remember I’m in Ecuador, no daylight savings time) learning about our language program and practicing Spanish with our personal language facilitators, learning about the programs we will be entering and projects we will do, and other Peace Corps logistical stuff. The nights are spent getting to know one another and sharing drinks and history.

(Febrero 28)

Holy crap! I have NEVER been this nervous in my life…espera…. So this morning (the morning of the day im writing this) was an early wakeup as usual, but the day was to be much different. Today, we are heading out into the campo of Quito, about a 2hr. smashed bus ride with most of our luggage to the area of Cayambe, an absolutely BEAUTIFUL town surround by two inactive but decorative volcanoes. We Smashed into our incredibly foreign looking, bright yellow “coches de cargo” (buses). This was how we got around, the Peace Corps had these foreign minivans come pick us up and we would smash into these things and go for a pretty fun ride. But anyway, so we load up and head out. The drive to Cayambe, which is North of Quito, was a two hour solemn drive. For the first time, we were able to see the Andean range for what it was. I have never seen such magnificently epic panoramas as I did on this drive. The expanse of the valleys, and the ceaseless ascent of the numerous volcanoes and ranges was amazing. OOO, I forgot, yes, today I am heading to Cayambe to meet my new family who I will be staying with for the 10 weeks of my training. The entire group of 46 of us will be split across several different small country towns in the Cayambe area and inserted by ourselves into an Ecuadorian family. The town I’m in is actually Cayambe itself, it’s a beautiful town with a university, two futbol fields, and an overused Spanish colonial look to it. We were dropped off in Ayora nearby and met up with our language facilitators. In groups of 4-5, each assigned a non English-speaking language facilitator with whom we boarded the public buses and went to meet out families. We tramped around the streets of Cayambe, getting stares like no other (yes, you all were right, I stand out HORRIBLY!) learning a few important meeting places and one by one, were introduced to our families by the facilitator. The anticipation was tremendous. There is absolutely NO English, no safety line to help you here, Its just dive in and roll with it. It got to be my turn, we walked up to these large gates and rang the bell, a short woman with a bright sweater came to open the gate. A quick exchange between her and the facilitator, then me, “Buenos dias , como esta usted.” I didn’t get what was said back to me, but I smiled and retorted. To my surprise they own a 4 story house, 3 dirty French poodles, two younger daughters, and a very enthusiastic husband. I climbed the stairs to my room at the very top with her. I have full amenities, including toilet and shower, queen size bed, and a view of Volcan Chimborazo that would cost a million in the states. The view from my room is breathtaking, ill get some pictures up to prove it. As a bonus, I can see my volunteer friend Abby about 100yrds away when she comes out of her rooftop room. In the main house, I met the family who was very nice. I was told to expect little personal space and lots of touching, but the father bear hugged me and smacked my back like I’ve known him for ten years. Next, almuerzo! (lunch) So far, Im in love with Ecuadorian food, the spices and different food types are amazing. The fruit and subsequent juices are absolutely amazing. We started with some potato soup with chicken, looks not unlike chicken noodle soup, but this had a much better flavor. Then was chicken, rice, vegetables, potatoes all with their own Ecuadorian spice twists. Fruit was postre (dessert), a typical finisher in Ecuador. One fruit I got to eat that I love is called tamta de arboles, it’s a cherry tomato-looking fruit that has a super-tangy, sour goodness that I cant leave alone. After dinner, my family took me for a ride in the family car (a delivery truck, the dads job). We toured Cayambe packed into this small single cab truck. They pointed out things, teaching me dos and don’ts, helping me with my grammar and vocab, got more postre, and had an overall good time. Now here I am. This experience has been amazing so far, ive learned soo much in so short of time. For ten weeks or so ill be living here in Cayambe, occasionally meeting with others to learn more Spanish with our language facilitators, and traveling to Ayora to meet with everybody. But this is all on my own, no Peace Corps chaperoning around. It’s a real chance to see what im getting myself into, so far im hooked. But really though, Im staring out a window at a volcano in a beautiful foreign country, id have to be insane not to enjoy this. Its as they say around here, Chevere! (cool/awesome).

Try at home: Agua aromatica: boil cedron leaves in pot, drink with sugar. Its like tea but wwwaayyyyyyy better. My host mom always makes it for me at the end of a day. Apparently it’s a natural remedy, I just nod and drink it for the taste.

Im having compatibility issues with getting my word doc to convert on the ghetto version here, Lo siento y revolvere pronto!

I believe I have just completed the god-awful task of packing with the thought of a two-year journey ahead of me(well, about 95% sure). I think I can speak for a few other fellow PCV(Peace Corps Volunteers) trainees in that packing is a complete pain in the a$$!(albeit exciting in the thought of the future utility of whatever your stuffing inside the packs). I have a nice little nuance in that buying shoes/boots and pants in country is not feasable because of my size 13 foot, so I have to bring all that fun, heavy stuff. They tell us not to pack for the entire two years, but with the many different suggestions and packing lists I and others have seen, I would beg to differ some.

The gravity of my leaving has never been more apparent to me than in this last night spent in my home town of Manteca, which starting at my 11:45am departure tomorrow, will be the last tid-bit of familiarity I will have in a long while. BUT, I didnt join the Peace Corps because I was afraid of change and strange places, so Bon Voyage! I am ready to go, through the nervousness and all, I have never felt more right about such an endeavor. Obviously, I don’t yet have any interesting stories of dodging giant amazonian insects or epic battles with jaguars or eating unspeakable jungle goodies, but as I continue to climb down this rabbit hole I promise more juicy things. I do wish to say that in the past few days in saying my farewells to many friends and family, I am awestruck with how fortunate of a person i am to have such wonderful people playing a part in my life… Im greatly humbled by all the enamor that pretty much blindsighted me. Long story short, I am off to a powerfully motivated start due almost entirely by the breath of others. Thank you and I plan to do my best to make you all proud!