I take way too many pictures of the sunset and skyline.

I have no idea what I'm doing, either; there is no technique involved, I just point and shoot.

Sometimes the photos come out better than others.

And sometimes I notice things I would have otherwise overlooked. Like the tomato plant that sprang up spontaneously in my window box.

A descendant, perhaps, of the tomatoes we experimented with back in June, before we planted the garden.

Seems like a long time ago now. But the plethora of rain, and the ensuing plethora of weeds and spontaneous tomato plants in my window boxes, has inspired me to institute some kind of control and order there. Wish me luck.

...this post will be about FOOD.

I can't be sure, but I think I've subsisted these past few weeks on a diet of pasta and pasta. Ever since the friends headed back stateside, I've been unmotivated to do anything culinarily creative; chalk it up to missing their company, and their hands in the kitchen. (Also, there was the small incident of me taking more malaria medication than was necessary in a concentrated period of time, causing me to lose my appetite for a number of days - among other worrying side effects - but that's another story for another time. Soon, I promise.)

So, for two and a half weeks, I boiled water and bided my time.

And my kitchen was spotless.

Until, suddenly, my appetite returned full force (and demanded that I prepare and consume a tasty goat stew). And now my kitchen floor is sticky and gross.

Here is a recap of what has come out of my refrigerator/oven/stovetop/imagination, with the willing collaboration of friends and neighbors in most cases. I operate under the philosophy that the whole cooking-then-eating process works best and results in maximum satisfaction when carried out as a team effort.

WHAT WE MADE

(1) Chucula. This is a dee-licious drink made of boiled ripe plantains and milk.

Take some plantains.

Cut 'em up.

Boil 'em'n'mash'em'n'add'em to the milk. Milk that has been heated with some cloves or allspice gives it a little extra kick.

Blend it all together to the desired consistency, add a dash of vanilla, and voilà. In my opinion, it is best served thick and chilled, to be eaten with a spoon.

(2) Pizza. A throwback to the U-S-of-A. (Meh okay, Italy, too.)

Margherita yumminess. If you really want to impress your Ecuadorian friends, tell them you know how to make pizza, and then make it for them. Just don't put red pepper flakes on it; the Ecuadorian palate is generally averse to spicy foods.

(3) Mora cornbread muffins.

These are a home-constructed creation inspired by a lack of milk called for by the recipe and by Amanda's creative thinking.

Mora look like a cross between a raspberry and a blackberry. They have an indescribably sweet-tart taste that explodes on the tongue and makes one want to sing sweet praises to the high heavens.

We discovered they're quite tasty in baked goods, as long as you're okay with the fuchsia.

(4) Chicken sandwich.

Another States food...pretty boring to the average American, but believe me, I'm enthusiastic about this little guy.

Sandwiches like this just aren't found here. Not the kind with fresh lettuce and veg on 'em.

Lettuce.

Avocado.

Mozzarella.

Chicken.

Tomato.

More lettuce.

REAL mayo.

Wheat bread.

Done and done.

...and guess what? I haven't even shown you what we made for the real Super Bowl celebration. Hint: There were 5 of us Americans who prepared food, and every single dish we brought involved cheese. I can't type any more, it's time to roll myself to bed.

Lactose-Comatose Love,

Jordan

We're in the planning stages of a day camp for the little kids, who just got out for school vacation. Day 1 is this coming Monday (send help! aaaaaaaaaaaah!). Thank goodness I have four stellar young ladies to help out as counselors.

Last week, we made ourselves some non-uniform uniforms. (We like to shake things up around here. Keeps everybody on their toes.) Hopefully the bright colors will bedazzle the kids into...submission? obedience? good behavior? not ripping each other's hair out? One can only hope.

...is when you have a pan of Ghirardelli brownies baking in your oven.

And you don't even realize it until you go to take them out, and you see with dismay that the gas flame is out and your brownies are only half-baked at best.

Thank goodness for neighbors who have full gas tanks and understand a brownie emergency when they see one.

Thank goodness, too, for friends and family who ensure that, if I weren't to get my brownie fix, I'd have a backup sugar stash.

Let's take inventory, shall we?

Tootsie rolls. The go-to sugar source. When I reach into my fridge, I hope to always find myself up to my elbows in these.

Junior Mints. Only the best movie snack in the history of the world.

Reese's Peanut Butter Cups = cups of love, whispering so sweetly, Sip from me...

Starburst. This, in liquid form, is what runs through my veins.

Reese's Pieces. ET phone home.

Mini cookie bites from Cookie Creations of Atlanta. Speaking of home...these are like little bites of TLC to me. You, too, can experience their wonderfulness by clicking on the link and ordering some. Just tell Donna that Jordan sent you.

These items are made all the sweeter because I cannot get them here: they are either unavailable or way too pricey.

So yeah, I'd say I'm well taken care of.

Things are looking sweet from here.

Who needs rose-colored glasses when you've got Junior Mints?

Thanks for keeping my blood sugar levels up, guys!

Ella corta la badea.

She cuts the badea.

Está cortada la badea.

The badea is cut.

Cortó la badea.

She cut the badea.

Ella no sabe cortar mangos.

She doesn't know how to cut mangoes.

Pero los sigue cortando.

But she cuts them anyway.

Corta el cabello.

She cuts hair.

Espero que sepa cortar el cabello.

I really hope she knows how to cut hair.

Echa la fruta en la sangría. Bien hecho.

She puts the fruit in the sangría. Good move.

Fríe las verdes.

She fries the green plantains.

La que trae para picar es mi mejor amiga del mundo.

She who brings the appetizers is my bestest friend in the whole wide world.

Aplasta los patacones.

She smashes the patacones.

Ella es muy de moda.

She be stylin'.

Revuelve los fideos.

She stirs the pasta.

A comer!

Let's eat!

Buen provecho!

Bon appétit!

It's what's for dinner.

I started with this:

Goat meat in a cumin/oregano/garlic/beer marinade. Yummy.

Then I used these:

An onion. A pepper. And achiote.

Achiote is this seedlike, nutlike thing. It is frequently used as a colorant and flavorant in food (esp. with rice) and comes in many forms, including powder and oil.

Brown the meat and throw it all together in a saucepan.

Blend up a mixture of cilantro, tomatoes, tangy naranjilla fruit, and hot ají peppers. And more beer, which isn't pictured. A word to the wise, don't just throw in a bunch of the peppers without testing to see how spicy they are. Unless you're not afraid of picante.

Strain the mixture, then add it to the pot along with some cane sugar and spices. Let it simmer for a while.

Watcha doin'?

Stewin'.

Serve hot over rice.

It's official: our tomato plants are no more.

Earlier this month, Mike and I realized that our tomato plants had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. Here's how we knew: they looked like this...

Common sense and the PC agriculture staff told us that this was brought on by the change in climate that's occurring with the onset of the rainy season. So we salvaged what fruit we could, and two days ago, with heavy hearts and mosquito-bitten hands, we pulled up the tomato plants.

We also pulled up the bell peppers. The peppers were getting smaller each time the plants produced, and the leaves were turning yellow (from lack of potassium, we are told). We will let the beds rest for a bit before replenishing the soil and having another go.

Meanwhile, our lettuce continues its valiant struggle for survival, aided by the bit of shelter offered by a nearby mango tree trunk.

We're rooting for you, little guys.

Let's go on over to Jordan and see what the weather's doing. Take it away, Jordan.

Well folks, today's forecast is RAIN, with a high chance of MORE RAIN and later on this week YEP, MORE RAIN. Take your galoshes for a nice walk in the park! Back over to you, Jordan.

That's all for tonight. Drive safe, everyone.

Sorry. We packed a lot in during the trip, and I just want to share it ALL with you. Okay, maybe not ALL-all. Maybe not the sunburns. Or the bugbites. Or the inordinate number of bathroom stops we had to make during the course of our travels.

But I digress.

TTDWFCTV #7, Bring them here:

A refreshing green space in the heart of the big city.

But wait.

For some reason, as you're strolling along, you can't shrug the feeling that you're being...watched.

Then, in one of those sixth-sense moments, you realize where the feeling is coming from.

You snap your head around to meet the source of whatever strange force this is...

And, lo and behold, THIS:

This is no normal park; this is Parque de las Iguanas.

PCV Whitni had no qualms about getting up close and personal. She picked one up by its tail.

Here, she is explaining how kids at her rural site will grab iguanas by their tails and fling them up into trees so the dogs won't get them.

Betsie, not to be outdone, picks her target and approaches from the rear.

And now I think I'll stop talking and let the pictures tell the story.

And the girl and the iguana lived happily ever after - separately.

Autographs will be signed after the show.

I figured I had to get in the last Christmas post before January draws to a close.

The kids at the Casita de Chocolate wrote thankyou notes to Gram & Ril for the clothes they received as surprise Christmas presents.

I snapped pics of a few of the notes before sending them off via Carrier Friend-Traveling-Back-to-the-States. Some of them are pretty funny...

My name is Rosangela Alcivar Ponce: And I like the clothes. I think you spent a lot of money to send us these clothes, and they are very pretty. And I want you to think well of my card. Thank you: Gram & Ril.

Merry Christmas! Thank you for the bracelets, the clothes, and the sandals. May God bless you. May you have a Merry Christmas, Gram and Ril. This is all of my message. Well, "Happily ever after, The End!" Thank you. Yours sincerely, Sara.

Thank you for everything. I love you very much. I would like to tell you something: I love you, and I would like to know you. Merry Christmas!

Thank you for the dress I got. It's pretty, and I am grateful to you because it is pink. I wish you a lovely Christmas. I don't know you, but Thank you. From: Mayerline, To: Gram and Ril

Merry Christmas. We love you very much. Thank you for everything. We are grateful to you from Ecuador and Guayaquil. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Moral of the story: Thankyou notes are the cornerstone of civilization, and they give you the warm fuzzies, too.

Today was an auspicious day.

For one, yesterday we got paid. Let me give you some context for what this means to me: As a new volunteer, rolling in piles of the Sacajawea coins* that comprised our Moving-In Allowance,† I looked askance at the older volunteers, the ones with the worn clothing who would drop everything and dive for the ten cents lying on the sidewalk. Now...well, now, I am an older volunteer. Near the end of each month, when I run out of money, I start checking my bank account every day to see if Peace Corps has deposited our Living Allowance‡ yet. And when the magic finally happens - the account balance suddenly switches from one to three digits - I give a whoop and announce to the nearest group of PCVs, "We got paid today!" If they've been here as long as I have, they give a cheer. If they haven't, they look at me strangely and say, "So anyway, I was..."

Guess what? -- Yesterday, we got PAID!

Dear Law-Abiding, Tax-Paying Citizens of the United States of America, Here is what I did with your money: I celebrated by treating myself to a hamburger. It had an egg on it. And bacon. Then, I celebrated by treating myself to an ice cream cone. Finally, today - and this is what makes today so auspicious - I bought...

...something that caused PCV Whitni to have to stand on a stool on a desk on the terrace and tie rope to the rafters...

...something that caused her to learn to tie knots...

...check out this double figure eight knot...we looked up how to do it online...we're cool like that...

...A HAMMOCK. I bought a hammock. The ultimate symbol of slothfulness.

And I sat in the hammock, and I read my book, and it was good. Amen.

Don't worry, law-abiding, tax-paying U.S. citizens: the Hammock of Slothfulness may be easily tied up for the few moments each week in which I plan to be productive.

Love, Hugs, and Hammocks,

me

______________________________________________________________________________

*Ecuador uses U.S. currency. If you're wondering where all the Sacajawea coins ended up, the answer is, here.

†The allowance PCVs are given upon arriving in site in order to purchase clothing, furnishings, and other necessaries as we begin our service.

‡The monthly allowance PCVs receive to cover the costs of daily living (i.e., food, transportation, and personal sundries).

Take them to the barrio and eat street food.

______________________________________________________________________________

Take them to the beach with friends.

Yay, beach! Booooo, sunburn. (We wore tons of sunscreen and still needed aloe in the end. Why? Because it's the equator.)

______________________________________________________________________________

Take them to the market to check out the cool chicken innards and cow hearts.

______________________________________________________________________________

And, finally, take them for a stroll down the Malecón. End with ice cream. Perfect.

Planting during the rainy season is not generally recommended. At first - not having lived through a true rainy season after last year's drought - I was baffled as to why. Wouldn't the rain be helpful in nurturing seedlings?

The answer is yes, but the answer is also no. Case in point: our lettuce.

We recently harvested our radishes, and that very day we spread some humus from our worms and transplanted teeny tiny lettuce that had been growing in one of the garden club members' houses. Then, it rained.

It rained and rained.

It rained and rained and rained.

Get the picture?

Most of the rain thus far hasn't been too strong, but the few times it's pelted down make a difference to those teeny tiny lettuce plants, with nothing to protect them from the raindrops falling who knows how many meters high in the sky. Basically, a bunch of the lettuce was pummeled when we went to tend the garden today. Lesson learned: heed the advice of the people who've lived here for years, they really know what they are talking about. We should have harvested and transplanted earlier so that the lettuce would be sizable enough to withstand and benefit from the harsher rains.

On the other hand, the rain does bring out many more signs of life. In the garden, the worms are thriving, as are the weeds, the toadstools, and the toads. In the city, the crickets, cockroaches, and rats are coming out of the woodwork. It's a grand celebration of life in its various forms. And in my windowboxes, patches of clover are spontaneously springing up. One afternoon when I'm feeling lazy, I will search for one with four leaves. Not that I need the luck--but our lettuce plants could sure use it.

This one says: PLEASE DO NOT VOTE FOR TRASH UNDER THE STAIRS.

This one says: PLEASE DO NOT THROW TRASH UNDER THE STAIRS.

I figured I could attempt to abate my impotent rage at the numerous typos I see here daily by first taking care of the ones in my own building.

Keep them from getting amoebas.

This is accomplished by (1) using lots of hand sanitizer, all the time; and (2) making sure any fresh produce we prepared was properly soaked in a bacteria bath to get rid of any would-be amoeba friends. Those amoebies really can be friendly and engaging little guys, it's just that depending on how sociable your gastrointestinal tract is feeling, you may or may not get along.

Buy lots of tropical fruit, then eat it.

Step 1: Make friends with the vendor at the market. That way, when you pull your digital camera out in front of everyone, you will have someone to watch your back.

Step 2: Learn them fruits. Here, we have guava (Spanish: guayaba); guanábana; and chirimoya.

Step 3: Ingest. There are a few different options - subcategories, if you will - to this step:

Step 3, Option 1: Ingest raw.

Step 3, Option 2: Ingest in batido form. That means blended in a blender with milk and sugar. That means yum.

Step 3, Option 3: Ingest covered in chocolate.

Step 3, Option 4: Ingest in sangría. This is my favorite option.

The End.

Take them on a bus ride.

City buses in Ecuador have set routes (though it's hard to know what they are except by hopping on a bus and riding it). Unlike in the States, however, city buses here do not have set stops: you can hail one down at any point along the route, and likewise you can ask the driver to stop and let you off at any point. As far as measuring this little system in terms of efficiency, I'd say it can be a pain when you are on the bus and running late and the driver keeps stopping to let more people on, but it's sure a lifesaver when you're the one standing in the rain flagging down the bus.

Another small tidbit about Life on an Ecuadorian Bus: street vendors regularly board the buses at intersections to hawk their wares to passengers. They sell anything from candy to "health drinks" to water to coconut juice to who knows what. Sometimes people get on and sing, then troll the aisle asking for tips. Sometimes men dressed as clowns get on and tell jokes.

Example of a joke:

I will preface this with a brief vocab lesson.

(1) Subir is a verb meaning "to rise" or "go up." Whenever the city buses stop to let people on, you can hear the bus attendant ushering people up the steps and into the bus by saying "Suba, suba suba!"

(2) Mono in Spanish means "monkey." In Ecuador, it is used as a joking term for someone from the coastal region (due to the somewhat indiscernable accent and rapidfire speech of costeños). One action verb for monos - monkeys - is trepar, to climb. As in, climbing trees.

...Can you see where this is going?

Okay, so here's the joke:

In Guayaquil, what do we say when people get on the bus? We don't say Suba, suba, suba, we say Trepa, trepa, trepa!

I'm not sure that joke was good enough to warrant the lengthy explanation it required. If you didn't understand it, please accept my apologies and just forget about the whole thing. And on that extremely complicated note, I will end.

Foggy (neblina). Cloudy (nublado). Wet (mojado). Drippy (???). COLD (a relative term).

Sometimes the sun comes out, just in time to make the water steam off the pavement and thicken the air to a nice level of Lung-Clogging Humid, and then the clouds come back.

Gradually I'm becoming a rain connoisseur. My favorite state of precipitation at the moment is the light drizzle accompanied by refreshing breeze. Last year the rainy season was delayed for months and months, and farmers outside the city were losing up to half their crops to drought. Now? It doesn't even feel like Guayaquil anymore!

I made mention the other day of a special Christmas activity we did with the children in the after school program during my sister's visit.

An extremely generous surprise gift from my grandparents made its way to Ecuador and to the kids at the Casita de Chocolate:

For kids in the States, I think the anticipation for Christmas Day builds up because they're hoping for shiny new toys from Santa; clothing isn't usually at the top of their Christmas list. Things are a little different here. Just look at the excitement on these faces:

(Okay, so the guys were being all "cool" and studly at the moment. Don't be deceived by the deadpan stare; they are pumped about their new outfits.)

That's more like it!

They really valued these gifts. Lots of children here belong to large families and wear mostly hand-me-downs. It's out of the ordinary to get your very own, brand spanking new outfit. For many of these kids, this was the nicest - or only - Christmas gift they received.

And they have something to say about that...

Maicol: Well, thank you for the clothes, for the calculators, have a good Christmas, hope you are doing well, take care, and thank you for everything.

Sara: Thank you for the clothes, thank you for the sandals, I hope you're doing well, thank you for the bracelets, and I hope you have a very nice Christmas.

It was a big deal for the kids to want to send a message on video; they're usually fairly shy about addressing the camera. But they were so excited and wanted to say a big thank you to Gram & Ril! So excited, in fact, that I'm afraid some of them got a little confused as to what they were supposed to do with their gifts...

Or maybe it's just a brother thing? - and one that crosses cultures, too...here's my own freaky brothers as proof:

The kids kept pestering me to have a turn at giving their own little thank you speeches...

Aarón: My name is Aaron, thank you for the clothes, I belong to the after school program, and I hope you have a Merry Christmas.

Lucía: Thank you for the toothbrushes, I hope you have a Merry Christmas, and thank you for the clothes and the bracelets, have a Merry Christmas, and I also thank you for all the clothes, for everything you've given us, thank you very much.

These gifts made Christmas extra special this year, and the kids will certainly get a lot of use out of them every day at home and at school. I'll echo the niños and say Muchas gracias!

There are crickets everywhere and my kitchen flooded last night: it must be the rainy season.

This morning the rain continued. Still, our core group of garden volunteers showed up. We had a grand old time harvesting ripe veg, planting some new veg, spreading the humus, and generally neatening things up -- getting thoroughly soaked in the process. But hey, where's the fun in gardening if you can't get a little dirty? Plus, Mike pointed out a very valuable lesson learned from this morning: If you want to change your cold Guayaquil shower into a warm one, all you have to do is spend the morning in the chilling rain, then go home and jump in the shower. Done and done, my friends. Bring on the rain!

(1) The week before Christmas, my host family trooped through my door carrying three very large boxes. "We see your apartment is sad," they said, "so we are bringing you some espíritu navideño--some Christmas spirit."

Then, this happened:

And this:

Technically it is a stool dressed up as a Christmas tree, but I think the many sparkly things on it give it the final transformative touch, wouldn't you agree?

And let's not forget the nativity:

The jurassic nativity.

If you were ever in doubt as to how many velociraptors were present at the birth of Christ, now you know: at least one left her gingerbread house to witness the event.

(2) My favorite Christmas present this year was A VISIT FROM MY SISTER.

Man, I'm spoiled.

(3) While she was here, we had a cookie decorating party (to carry on the tradition started with Molly Mag-Mar last year!).

Brought to you by the illustrious firm of Nom, Nom & Nom.

(4) We took a trip into the hiemal (look it up; it's my new favorite word) heights of the Andes to spend Christmas with PCVs George and Heather.

While there, we made glue, which is a very delicate process requiring an innate sense of stirring technique and an intimate knowledge of the Periodic Table of the Elements. Argon, Hydrogen...um... As such, I stood back and took pictures.

Heather's moment of glory.

We didn't make all this glue just for fun, though fun it was; we made it in order to paste giant portraits of indigenous locals on the revamped community center.

(5) We also did a Christmas activity with the kids at the after school program in the Casita de Chocolate in Guayaquil...but I'm saving that for a separate post.

(6) Here's a gratuitous picture of Sunny with a llama:

(7) Happy New Year!!!

Nothing really gets done in December, yet it's somehow the busiest month of the year. I'm still trying to figure out exactly how that works.

***Warning: This post contains a picture of my feet. If you don't like feet, don't read this post. Carry on.***

This year, December's gone like this:

Week 1

--Helped paint a school with some of my teen alums.

--Visitors at my house.

--My cat pees all over the house.

--I am extremely embarrassed.

--Flashmob on the Malecón.

--A mustache party.

--Learned recycled crafts with the women's Saturday class.

Week 2

--Cat gets spayed.

--Sleepover with a friend at a hotel downtown: Air conditioning; cable; hot showers; heaven.

--Day trip to help an acquaintance fill out the request for a Peace Corps Volunteer to work at their organization. I am treated as the guest of honor all day long. (My favorite part was the ceviche they fed me for brunch: YUM.)

--Convince the high school principal of one of my teen alums to let her miss a week of school so she can attend a Peace Corps workshop in Quito.

--High school principals are scary.

--But it wasn't hard (see first clause of this post).

--Hit the Guayaquil pavement, apartment searching with/for a friend.

--Visitors at my house.

--More visitors at my house.

--I like visitors.

--Oh look! Here's some more!

--Traveled with some PCV friends to nearby Santa Elena to run my first ever half marathon. This, like the run in Esmeraldas province, was another run to support the preservation of Parque Yasuní.

I'm the one in the sparkly baseball cap.

After the run we were pretty much ready for it to be Christmas. (More photos of the run can be found on the 21kx24provincias blog.)

Week 3

--Traveled to Quito to spend the week at Peace Corps' "Brigadas Verdes" workshop! A number of volunteers working on environmental projects were invited to come and bring a youth alum along. We attended sessions on the state of the environment in Ecuador, how to form an Eco Club and plan activities, and recyclable crafts.

--Being at this workshop with a bunch of teenagers to keep an eye on was akin to what I imagine being a camp counselor is like.

--I'm glad I'm not a camp counselor.

--But the workshop was fun!

--Except for the last day, when a few of us woke up with food poisoning and had to travel home feeling rather ill.

--I threw up on the bus.

--While in Quito, I also visited the Peace Corps Medical Officer because my foot's been bothering me of late. She diagnosed tendonitis. No more running or wearing flip flops for a few months.

Goodbye, flip flop tan.

Hello, yoga.

Ommmmmmm.

Week 4

--So far, I've read a lot; nursed myself back to solid foods; and cleaned my house.

--My bathroom is the cleanest it has ever been, ever.

--Even though I've only lived in this apartment for a year, I am 99.9% sure that the above statement is true.

--My sister flies in from the States tomorrow!!!! (Er...later today.)

In honor of sisters and Christmas, we bring you this Public Service Announcement, circa 1954:

I have a hand-me-down coffeemaker from a previous volunteer, but unless I'm brewing for more than just me, I like to pretend that I'm a roughing it in a thatch hut on the side of a windy mountain. So I use this:

Have you ever seen one of these? They're called moka pots. They were patented in 1933 in Italy. Having one makes me feel cool.

For the longest time, these things baffled me. How could it be possible to brew coffee in one of these without defying the laws of physics? I wanted to open one up and look inside, but I never got the chance. So I just believed in the power of magic and coffee.

But now, I have one. And I can show you how they work. And guess what? The process follows the laws of physics, and it's still magical.

Ready?

Step 1: Unscrew the moka pot and fill the bottom compartment with water.

Step 2: Put in the tube thingy...

...which is capped with a filter:

Step 3: Heap a few spoonfuls of coffee on top of the filter.

Step 4: Screw on the top and put on the stove!

The top also has a filter, so the coffee grounds are effectively sandwiched between two filters.

Step 5: Wait for coffee to percolate.

Percolate...percolate...percolate...

...here's where the physics comes in: something about water reaching a boiling point, and then it rises through the filter, through the coffee grounds, and into the upper chamber of the moka pot...

...and before you know it, you've got a nice strong cup of coffee to start the day. Good morning, sunshine!

As PCV Olenka and I walked in leisurely fashion towards the Casita de Chocolate, I looked up and was amazed to see a huddle of women waiting for us outside the gate. After 16 months of constantly seeing community members arrive late to meetings and events (usually smiling and reminding me about the concept of la hora ecuatoriana), I knew these women were truly excited about our weekly manualidades and bisutería (crafts and jewelry-making) classes, because instead of arriving on time, they arrived early.

Seven women and their daughters sat at the table and looked at us expectantly. One proffered up a dollar coin; for previous classes, we had asked participants to contribute $1 each toward the purchase of materials. “Today’s class is gratis,” I explained, “because we’re working with recycled materials.” This pleasant surprise grabbed the women’s attention, and they seemed even more eager to get started.

Over a period of two hours that Saturday morning, Olenka shared with us her expertise in turning chip bags, milk cartons, and old magazines into wallets and beads. The ladies and I learned three new techniques that are low-cost; benefit the environment; and produce eye-catching products.

[Olenka shows the women how to roll paper beads from old magazines]

My favorite part of these classes always occurs right in the middle of our time together, after the ladies have grown confident enough with a new technique that they begin conversing among themselves while their hands are at work. Just a few weeks ago, these women were strangers to each other; now, they’re giving each other health advice, inquiring after one another’s families, and debating the merits of various platos and cooking styles. It’s been incredibly rewarding to see the bond between them grow over such a short time, as it has been heartwarming to see the relationships between the older generation and their daughters manifest in different ways during the workshops. Often, the steady hands of the mothers will guide their daughters’ less graceful efforts, while at other times, the girls’ keen eyes and quick facility for learning turn them into their mothers’ instructors.

This particular class, Olenka captured the ladies’ imaginations by transforming common household items before their eyes. Previously, they had never envisioned a milk carton becoming a change purse, or old magazine pages turning into cute pieces of jewelry. By the end of the two hours, the women were brainstorming additional ways to use items from around the house that would otherwise go into the trash, and they left excited to return next week and continue practicing the techniques Olenka taught us.

[Working on milk carton wallets and paper beads]

The women’s enthusiasm is infectious, and while we are all hopeful that the concept for a microempresa will emerge from what we learn, for now I love cheering them on as they continue to plan classes and meet weekly in what has become a small but strong community, forming a foundation of friendship that will surely direct their future efforts toward success.

[The women show off their handiwork. All products are made from recycled materials]

Every year on December 1st, people around the globe celebrate World AIDS Day by holding events to raise awareness about and educate people on the prevention of HIV/AIDS. You might recognize the red ribbon, which is the global symbol for solidarity with people living with HIV and AIDS.

Each country Peace Corps serves has its own specific needs, but Peace Corps has identified five global initiatives - areas in which every volunteer can and should focus at some point during their two years of service - and HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention is one of them.

So, what did we do for World AIDS Day in Guayaquil? We danced.

Remember when I talked about the flashmob we did at our Midservice Conference back in September? Well, one of the volunteers choreographed a dance. Throughout the month of November, we practiced once a week with other PCVs and youths who have participated with us on various projects related to health and HIV awareness.

On the big day, we busted out our moves on the Malecón, right in front of the famous statue of Simón Bolívar. Originally the plan was to perform multiple times in different spots, but then the boombox batteries died.

So we settled for 1.75 performances, handed out flyers and information on HIV/AIDS, and called it a night.

Stay tuned, you never know when the Peace Corps flashmob will strike again!

I mentioned in my previous post the "stunning" mobile library that exists between volunteers here in Ecua-land. Just take a look at some of these titles, will ya?

And while you're at it, take a step back and admire my organization skills, please. This is why I like hosting Thanksgiving: it forces me to clean my house. This corner of the room looked pretty heinous before TDay.

That whole big shelf-console-thing was bequeathed me by a departing volunteer; hand-me-downs are a tradition among volunteers. A tradition without which I would be sitting on the floor instead of on a futon and living off cold cereal and a raw foods diet in the absence of a stove.

But anyway, back to the books.

Many of the items that get handed down - or rather, passed around - between volunteers are books. This makes me jump for joy! I was so afraid of coming to Peace Corps and being sent to a remote town without any good reading material. I lucked out in that Ecuador is a small enough country with a large enough network of bus lines that volunteers are able to visit each other fairly regularly. And they usually come with a couple pounds of good reading material stuffed into their bags.

I also lucked out because I have awesome family and friends back home who send me reading material. Without this fodder from afar, the PCV mobile library would likely never expand; it's difficult to find literature here, generally speaking, especially in the English language. So thanks, everyone who's been sending me books! Your good deeds will surely be rewarded. I hope.

(Seriously, this is quite the literary soirée: Mr. Fleming, meet Herr Goethe. Mr. Salinger, meet Señor García Márquez.)

Somehow, the library I've accumulated here has come to rival the one I have at home. These books are like friends - and they come from friends, and they remind me of friends. And there's no better frame of mind than that when I'm sitting down to open a well-worn cover and start reading.

I know how hard it's been for you to wait...thank you for your incredible patience...and now, I shall reveal the identities of the mysterious garden veggie pictures posted a couple days back. Ready?

This guy is a squash (zapallo). The fruit isn't fully ripe yet, as you can see below.

And they're quickly taking over their half of the bed.

These guys are radishes (rábanos). They're almost ready to be harvested and are sometimes used here in soups and salads.

And this you should recognize as flat-leaf parsley (perejil), good for use in pretty much any kind of soup, according to my sources.

This guy is my favorite - maybe because the scent of a tomato plant brings me back to being a kid and helping my grandfather water his garden in the summer. As one of the ladies exclaimed the other day, ¡Qué rico el olor de las matas de tomate! What a lovely smell the tomato plants have! I wholeheartedly agree.

These guys are not producing quite yet, but they've grown rapidly in the few weeks since we've planted the seeds, as you can see below.

We planted the tomatoes on the other side of the health center, where there's more sunlight and where they can have their privacy. Tomato plants are extremely shy, did you know?

Next, we have the turnips (nabo). We've already harvested these, as they had grown to gargantuan proportions and were ready for being chopped up and thrown into a soup or salad. Yum.

And this guy - if you couldn't tell before, maybe you can now:

They're green bell peppers (pimientos)! It's almost time to harvest them as well. Now if only there were a way to whip up some ranch dressing...stand by, I will get back to you on this posthaste.

You saw Juan Pavo before:

Cold, lonely, and afraid in the bottom of the freezer.

After a few days of thawing out, the Big Day came around, and it was Juan's turn for the oven. I started by pulling out that bag inside of him. You know, the one with all the innards?

Funny thing, there were feet in there along with everything else. I've never cooked a turkey in the States, but I'd bet my holey britches that the feet are not normally included with the bird.

Moving on, let me introduce you to these two turkeys. Whitni and Rip came into town to celebrate the day, and they cooked up some delectable treats. Unfortunately I didn't get pictures to document their culinary prowess; Juan Pavo was feeling needy. And then the stuffing felt left out, so I had to give it a little extra attention. From there it was a chain reaction with the side dishes, and before I knew it, I was simultaneously mediating between the carrots and the capers while attempting to prevent the pumpkin muffins from committing oven suicide.

These are a carry-over from last year's celebration. Welcome back, guys!

Now, Juan Pavo took his sweet time in the oven, but fortunately we had this to tide us through:

And the people were happy, and they saw that it was good. Amen.

By the time Mr. Pavo finally did emerge, everyone was hungry and happy.

*clears throat*

Drumroll, please.

...

...

...

Swimming in a sea of butter and rosemary, surrounded by dozens of adoring fans. Life couldn't get any better, Juan Pavo; your life's work is now fulfilled. And we only ended up eating one hour later than planned!

I didn't get pictures of the food. I was busy being a good hostess, okay? So here's some more turkeys:

"Turkeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! Turkeyturkeyturkeyturkeyturkey..." If you can name that movie, I will give you a hug. If you can whistle the theme song from that movie, we must be soulmates.

This little turkeyling stole all of our hearts.

The lovely Isa models the latest in haute turkey cuisine.

We missed everyone who wasn't there to share the meal with us, but all in all it was another good Thanksgiving outside the U.S.

This is Turkey, over and out.

No, I didn't misspell "Michael Jordan;" I'm not talking about Michael Jordan; I'm talking about Maicol Jordan, one of the kids at the after school program. Guess who he's named after?

Last week, a friend of a friend who happened to be visiting Ecuador asked to lead a baseball workshop with the kids. Be my guest, sir!

Maicol Jordan, who's the sharpest kid on the block, already knew the rules of baseball and was a big help. Most everybody else learned as we went along.

Ángel was the fastest runner. Can't you tell by the gleam in his eye?

For me, the most exciting part of the workshop was seeing the girls step up to bat. In a part of the world where certain sports are identified as being gender specific, baseball invited both boys and girls to participate together because it is not normally played here at all. And the girls totally rose to the occasion.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Guasmo Sur Baseball Team of Awesomeness. Our coach left us with some whiffle balls and bats, so there's nowhere to go from here but to practice!

1. Laundry. Here is one example of why I love living in the big city with pretty much any amenity at my disposal - what we call "Posh Corps." I have the option of dropping my laundry off to be washed and/or dried versus having to expend the time and energy on washing my clothes by hand. Today I got my sheets, towels, some T-shirts and other sundries done for a little over $3. Yippee-kai-ay!

2. Cleaning. I'm hosting Thanksgiving this year, and suddenly the cleaning bug bit me and I've started rearranging furniture and things. Yikes.

Will it all be ready in time for Thursday? I know you'll wait with bated breath to find out.

3. Mail call. A package arrived with a plastic bag and instructions on how to prepare a Thanksgiving turkey (thanks, Mom & Mrs. Smith!). This will be my first foray into Thanksgiving-Turkey-Land. Wish me luck.

4. Crafts. Yes, I had a sitdown crafts session the likes of which you haven't SEEN since your kindergarten days, I guarantee it. I learned and practiced making various types of recycled art, using mostly magazine pages, chip bags, and plastic bags. We'll use these activities with both the women's jewelry making group (per my previous post) and also in the coming months for a vacation camp with kids.

5. Since I have the necessary tools, I went ahead and bought me a frozen turkey. According to the packaging, his name is Mr. Pavo. In English this means "Mr. Turkey." It's not a very original name, and we're going to ignore the fact that all the other turkeys in the frozen section of the grocery store (ahem, Posh Corps, ahem) were also named Mr. Pavo; my Mr. Pavo and I have a very personal connection. As soon as I saw him sitting there behind the glass door with his $40 price tag, I knew he belonged to me. So I brought him home.

I think he looks like a Juan, don't you agree? Juan Pavo, welcome to my freezer. We'll see you again on Thursday.

6. I ran. I ran so far away--I couldn't get away. Away from my foot cramp. Then I came home and bought six bananas. The End.

7. Marcelo and Andrés told me stories about all the ferocious wild animals - such as armadillos - they saw on their recent family vacation. Then Marcelo tried to make me watch a horror movie with him, and I ran so far away, again.

Tomorrow: more Thanksgiving preparations and a lesson on making tire gardens.

Dear Readers, you have been very patient as I left the last post up for nearly a month in an effort to get as much support as possible for our Peace Corps / Kichwa Sustainable House Project. Many of you have donated to the project, for which I thank you from the bottom of my heart. We are over halfway there in terms of raising funds, and hopefully we will be able to begin construction in the new year. Without your support, this project would not be possible!

And now, in the interest of cramming in every little update of what's been happening outside the realm of the house project, here's a recap in photos...

Part of Marcelo's school project that materialized by my front door. Fortunately there were no extraterrestrials inside. Otherwise I woulda had to whip out the lightsaber.

...comes hand in hand with any school project, I suppose.

Fryin' up some verdes to make patacones. If that doesn't sound like English to you, it's because it's not. (Side note: there are so many photos of food that I would love to post here...but that's what this other little site is for. I will get back to updating that right quick.)

I guess "Ecuador" and "Jamaica" look alike...they have the same number of letters...and they both have C's...

The garden: it grew!

Ooh, it must be near Halloween - or, as celebrated here, Day of the Dead - because these are ingredients to make colada morada (aka, gooey purple drink of the gods). Doesn't sound appetizing? Just wait till next time, I'll walk you through it.

...with extra protein, yum!

And speaking of Halloween:

Decorations!

Cookies!

Masks! All in the name of sharing Halloween across cultures.

Colada morada strikes again. I lived on this stuff for about a week.

A trip to the Malecón with las chicas. They had never hiked the 444 stairs to the top of Las Peñas.

So, of course, we went.

At the hottest time of day. Every few steps we had to buy ice cream, and water, and ice cream. It was horrible.

The garden grew and grew! Man, it's really starting to look like a jungle in there.

We realized it was time to harvest some of the veg.

We started with the chives.

Don Braulio the innovator went to work with some fibers from the leaf of a banana tree.

Lovely handiwork, no?

Then we moved on to the more serious issue of the turnip greens.

This nearly turned ugly. In fact, the very next day - which I missed - it did: poor Mike, left all alone to defend the vegetables, became the arbiter of much heated divarication regarding who merited what portion of the harvest. Thank goodness there were no tomatoes involved.

In the end, however, everyone left happy.

New project: jewelry workshops with some of the women from the community. Their excitement was reminiscent of those days back in summer camp when we would gladly spend an entire afternoon making lanyards.

Knotted silk with silver beads and charms. Classy, right?

My Program Manager was kind enough to teach our very first class. It was a big hit. Now the ladies and their daughters are anxious to plan some clases de belleza - as in, beauty school. I told them only if we all wear pink satin jackets and invite Frankie Avalon to be our mascot.

Home decor, and a little piece of Tarjay makes its way to Ecuador (thanks, Aunt Sally!).

Just enough to be cute, not so many that it goes all Alfred Hitchcock on you. I like 'em. (Pay no attention to the cluttered kitchen shelves. If you're nice, I just might post some pics of the apartment soon enough. But there's no way you're getting to look inside my fridge.)

I'd say we're pretty much up to speed, so that's all for now, folks. Hasta pronto!

My latest project, concocted along with several Peace Corps Volunteer friends:

We'd like to start a project in a small Kichwa Indian village in the central highlands, a poor and generally neglected area of the country which we think we can really help. This is the same area where we worked on the water project back in April.

We're trying to build a small cabana for tourists, charity workers, and volunteers in order to kick-start a community tourism program they’re trying to get off the ground. More importantly, we’re going to (1) use the cabana as a showcase for lots of interesting low-tech environmental gadgets (bottle wall, solar shower, clean stove, solar bottle lights, etc.) and (2) reintroduce native adobe + straw building techniques. We’ve got the land already, and whatever rent money earned (through tourists, etc.) would go right back to the community fund, which will make a big difference in terms of securing economic sustainability.

While a group of us will be working hands-on on this project over the coming months, my friends George and Julie are our fearless leaders. Here's their project summary:

The Kichwa/Peace Corps Sustainable House Project, to be built in the rural mountain parish of Guangaje, Ecuador will serve as an environmentally sustainable model home for the local Kichwa Indian residents of the region. Through a partnership of Peace Corps Volunteers and indigenous leaders, we hope to both instruct local builders on the practical benefits of green construction, and help kick-start the wider community tourism that could lead to economically sustainable development in the area.

Kichwa Indians are among the poorest and least educated groups within Ecuador's multi-national society, and those residing in the central highlands often live in shocking poverty. The scattered towns of Guangaje parish-- hidden in the mountains and clouds, at an elevation of over 10,000 feet -- receive even less in the way of government or charity aid. Ignorance and indifference has led to environmental degradation of the unique and beautiful paramo ecosystem.

We aim to build a small tourist cabana that will: 1) Showcase various low-tech green building features (rain catchment, bottle wall, solar shower, etc.) features that people in the area can adopt in their own homes, 2) Re-teach traditional Kichwa adobe and straw building techniques, which are in danger of being lost as younger generations increasingly prefer to build with low quality, poorly insulated concrete block 3) Provide a sustainable income source for the town.

Our model home will be used to provide tourist lodging, encouraging the growth of the nascent local community tourism efforts in this spectacular but little-visited area of Ecuadorian highlands. It will also increase knowledge in easy, cheap and environmentally friendly building techniques -- improving quality of life through safer and more comfortable homes, and paying long term environmental dividends to the local ecosystem.

The full description plus photos are on the Global Giving website, which we're using to raise funds.

Here is a breakdown of how donations will be used for this project:

$10 will pay for seeds for a green garden patio

$15 will pay for a reusable dishwater cycling system

$20 will pay for a bottle wall for passive solar heating

$50 will pay for a roof rain catchment system

$100 will pay for a solar shower

$250 will pay for a composting toilet

Should your conscience dictate, click on the Global Giving website to make a donation. Or pass the information along to someone who may be interested in supporting our project. Or, if you're feeling hungry, waltz on over to the kitchen and make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Whatever floats your boat!

This past weekend I spent visiting PCV friends in the town of San Isidro, in Manabí province. Manabí is in the coastal region of Ecuador, which does not necessarily mean it is on the beach. In fact, my travel buddy and I rode an hour and a half inland from the coast in a chiva, an open-air bus, to get there, all the while wondering where exactly we were going and whether we were there yet. Dense foliage on either side of the dirt track, which must become impassable during the high rainy season, made us feel as if we were plunging deeper and deeper into the heart of some godforsaken Conradian jungle. Only the few little towns along the way - some of them just clusters of houses, really - gave the lie to this perception; or perhaps provided a modicum of reassurance to a frightening and thrilling truth, I never decided which! Periodically the chiva stopped to let someone off into the growing shadows, and they would disappear into ragged dense banana leaves that closed behind them as curtains, presumably following a path that led to hearth and home.

We arrived in San Isidro at night, with the black sky and vine-veined hills pressing us close in the darkness. By day, we could see the effects of being at the tail end of the dry winter season: leaves wearing thin coats of yellow dust and bobbing in the breeze; roads that in some places amounted to lumps of yellow sand; streams that ran well below the level they used to, and waterfalls that trickled at a mere fraction of their usual force. But still beautiful, all of it. My friend who lives there cited his favorite thing about his site: He can let his guard down. Girls left their purses lying about in public without fear, and people didn't lock their doors at night. By the end of two days there, my feet were coated with yellow dust from sifting through sandy roads and climbing dusty bracken in flip flops.

The best thing we did, besides partake of the delicious homemade meal prepared for us by one generous local matriarch, was take a trip to the waterfall a ways out of town. It started off with a bunch of us clinging for dear life in the back of a pickup as we bumped and jarred our way up and down the hills on rutted dirt roads--the best beginning to any outing here and the surest sign that it's going to be great fun. An up-and-downhill hike to the waterfall became botany class with Nere, one of the three sisters whose mother had fed us earlier. Nere pointed out countless trees and vines along the way. Maracuyá - passionfruit - vines that draped themselves along strings of barbed wire and hung in sheets across the hillside; the ubiquitous banana tree and the rarer mamey; tago palms that drop their nuts to the ground, the hollow ones which you can crack open to find the petrified fruit inside while the ripe ones sit heavy and dense in your palm as stones; a sprawling guanábana tree hiding two tiny, spiny fruits in the crooks of its warped branches; and one yellow, wrinkled cacao fruit (chocolate). This last one she took and twisted off the branch, then cracked open by whacking it against the trunk of a tree to reveal the white, gooey tower of seeds inside. Sólo para chupar, she said, indicating that they were only good to suck on, for the seeds' white outer coating carried a sweet, tangy taste, but the inner purple seed was bitter.

The waterfall was like a secret: a little cave in the earth hemmed in by hill and treetops; in the middle two pools, one dropping into the other; and at the head, the waterfall itself, pouring down through a narrow rock chute. You can jump into the water from the rocky ledge behind the waterfall, or go down the natural waterslide from pool to pool. I followed two of the sisters up and around to the top of the fall, slipping in flip flops and scrambling through dead-leaved dusty branches to stand whistling and shouting down at the others from the top. On the way back someone jumped and plucked a mandarina limón from the tree, and we sucked on slices as we trooped up the path. Mandarina limón: looks like a mandarin orange, tastes like lime. Good for juice but not much else.

Earlier that day we had gone to see the howler monkeys that live in a stand of trees and bamboo by the river. Los monos aulladores. My friend attempted to call them by howling, and eventually they showed up, because of or in spite of her efforts. Normally the monkeys howl at night, or just before inclement weather hits, or when men are cutting down trees in the forest. The youngest of the sisters, Olartia the petite and precocious, took up a branch and started banging it against a tree to imitate the sound of a hatchet. That got the monkeys riled up so that they were howling and shaking the branches of their tree - so high up you had to crane your neck nearly the full 90 degrees to make out their dark bodies amidst the foliage - and even throwing down branches as if to say, Here, you want to destroy our trees? Well, let us help you!

San Isidro: dusty streets, dusty gardens in bloom, sun-weathered plaza where the clocktower presides. Food, bought or homemade, that will ease you into a pleasant coma. Friendly, ugly dogs. Welcoming, generous people. You don't have to be in this town for long before you can't go anywhere without saying hello to a familiar face or three.

On Sunday - market day, when lots of people come into town from the surrounding countryside - we helped our friends with an HIV/AIDS event and spent all day in the plaza. The sun beat down on us without mercy, and by midafternoon we were spent and listless from handing out flyers and telling people about the free HIV testing offered at the health center. But it was worth it: by the end of the day, dozens of people had received tests and information.

The busride home provided a fresh dose of reality. We were sitting in the first two seats in front of the door for "more leg room," which is code for lots of people falling on you as they board and the bus lurches to a start, and also lots of accidental elbows to the face and lots of hands clutching at your hair for the person sitting in the aisle seat (me), not to mention the number of passing feet that inevitably come crashing down on yours. This particular time I found myself boxed in on all sides, with passengers crushed into the aisle and front of the bus. A few people were standing on my left foot, and a not-unheavy child on my right. With my head turned resolutely to one side to avoid touching what from my limited line of sight appeared to be someone's disembodied hand dangling inches from my face, we trundled along. Things started looking up when we changed buses and bought takeout for the second leg of the trip (never underestimate the redemptive power of a huge chunk of well-seasoned chicken).

Coming back to the big city made me realize what a far cry it is from where I'd just spent the past few days. The little town of San Isidro is one of my favorite places I've visited in Ecuador, and I'll surely be returning. Because I didn't bring my camera this time around, and you guys need to see pictures. Yeah...that's why I need to go back; it doesn't have anything to do with the people, or the food, or the beautiful surroundings...you better believe it.

Remember how I talked a little bit about our Peace Corps Midservice Conference a couple weeks back? And I mentioned a flash mob?

Flash mob: A flash mob (or flashmob) is a group of people who assemble suddenly in a public place, perform an unusual and sometimes seemingly pointless act for a brief time, then disperse, often for the purposes of entertainment, satire, artistic expression or—in rare cases—violence. (definition provided by wikipedia)

Our flash mob was not organized for the purpose of violence because, um, this is the Peace Corps - get it? If we were called the Violence Corps, then a violent flash mob would make sense. Maybe. ANYWAY, our flash mob was 100% peaceful, and given that we did it at the PC-Ecuador training center and our audience was a handful of other volunteers and PC staff, I guess the purpose would have to be dancing, plain and simple. Check it out.

Choreographer: J-Fast

Camera Equipment provided by: Brent

Camera Operator: Shantonu

Director of Photography: George ("Zoom in on Mike, zoom in on Mike!")

Some of these have to do with hygiene: I apologize in advance. But what can I say? It's all part and parcel of my daily life. And as your self-elected representative of Ecuadorian culture and the Peace Corps experience, it is my duty to share them with you. (Still, I'm so, so sorry...) You can click on the images to see a larger version. Then again, you might not want to. I'll leave it up to you.

First up: I ran a 10k!

Also: I had a blister under my toenail! It really hurt!

Next, I skyped with my sister and it put her to sleep.

Then - I ran a 5k!

After which I skyped home and witnessed a parental hug:

Followed by my brother, The Don:

Finally - my lab results came back: no parasites!

Yaaaaaaaaaaay!

All part of the daily grind.

Raise your hand if you're tired of hearing about the garden project.

If your hand is raised, you might want to skip this post.

We left off having successfully built the beds and filled them with a nice, fertile mixture of soil and leaves. At the following workshop, we started by adding one more element to our soil mixture:

Humus (mature compost). It came from earthworms. Which is why there's a drawing of a gigantic earthworm on the package.

We mixed the humus in with the top layer of leaves/soil and then we had to water everything. This took awhile.

In the meantime, some of the ladies started peeling off the outer layers of some green onion bulbs to prepare for planting.

Then came the fun part. First, we measured straight lines down the beds using string...

...and then - THEN - after weeks of promises and building beds and building fence and more promises, we finally, Finally, FINALLY PLANTED!

We planted with seeds, bulbs, and plants, and now our garden has onion, bell peppers, squash, and turnips.

It was a momentous occasion, and it marked the time when our watering regimen began in earnest. And, I'm happy to announce, the group really stepped up and took responsibility. With the help of the health center next door, the garden gets appropriate watering and care in between our weekly workshops. Things are growing!!! Green things!!!

And on that jubilant note, I take my leave. Until next time, fellow gardening fiends!

*a note on the title of this post: sembrar = "to plant"

The Day I Didn't Run A Marathon, aka The Day I Ran A 10K, was today.

Admittedly, I do not have that much racing experience, with only 3 races to speak of under my belt. Still, I noticed some key differences between racing in the states and racing in Guayaquil.

1 - Nobody else in the city, other than the runners themselves, seemed to have been alerted to the fact that there was a marathon going on this morning. This made for lots of angry drivers sitting and honking their horns at the traffic cops and runners. Very angry; lots of honking. If their aim was to spur the runners on to clear the streets sooner, it certainly worked with me.

2 - I'm not sure whether people cut so many corners in the States when running a race? Can anyone confirm?

3 - English-speakers stand out. Met some other PCVs, some women from Chicago, some US Consulate workers, and a Guayaquileño couple who split their time between here and New York.

4 - In the States, you are less likely to be woken up at 3am the morning of your race by your neighbors, who have decided to hold an impromptu dance party and turn their music up so loud that your bed vibrates to the bassline.

Other than that, racing here is quite similar to in the States. You get up at an ungodly hour and meet up in a trance with a bunch of other athletes in the dark; there's a hum of excitement and energy as everyone waits for the race to begin; there's water stations; delirious running thoughts; the thud of your feet on the pavement and the rhythm of your breathing; there's people you pace with and people who pace with you; there's the final kilometer...er, mile...and at the end, the swag and the refreshments and the port-a-potties, and the rush of endorphins and feeling of accomplishment, accompanied by sore muscles, and the sitting on the grass and taking off your shoes to rehash the whole race with friends, continued over a bowl of tuna stew.

Okay, maybe not the tuna stew part, but the experience always ends in food, right?

And when you tumble into bed after lunch, you can feel satisified that you have Accomplished Something that day, so a nap is completely justified.

Don Braulio has emerged as a leader in the garden project. He is among the handful of people who have demonstrated their dedication to the garden by showing up every morning that we come to work, be it building beds, building fence, or coming for the workshops led by the Prefectura (city government officials who have experience in organic gardening techniques and agreed to lead workshops with us over a period of six weeks).

Don Braulio arrives early to the workshops to water the plants, and he stays late to tidy up the garden and chat. (One afternoon in particular stands out, as he "chatted" at length about how he left a privileged home at age 16, trekked across the country, swam the Guayas River, and had many adventures and misadventures along the way.) There is no task we ask of him - and sometimes we don't even have to ask - that he refuses to do.

Case in point: the toads that were hopping along in our garden one morning before the workshops began. They were causing quite a stir among the women.

They're harmless but admittedly not the most attractive of creatures.

While the women were squealing in disgust, Don Braulio valiantly reached down...

...and scooped up the toad.

Simple.

And now Monsieur LeFrog has a lovely home on the other side of the health center.

À bientôt!

How soon is too soon for Christmas decorations? How soon is too soon to be asking how soon is too soon for Christmas decorations?

You can blame all this confusion on the DePrati department stores near my house.

Two days ago, on September 27, I walked into the Home Decor part of the store on a whim and was greeted by a festive holiday display replete with decorated trees, lights, and all manner of Christmas-themed dishware. And tchotchkes galore.

If I had been carrying my camera at the time, I would now be posting some scintillating snapshots of things like ice cube trays in the shapes of snowmen and Christmas trees; hot cocoa mugs with gingerbread men for handles; glittery pink reindeer ornaments; and much, much more.

The ice cube trays really struck my fancy. Being from the northern hemisphere, where it is generally cold at Christmastime, I find it comical that such things as Christmas-themed ice cube trays exist in the first place. But here, they are a practical Christmas accessory. I'm just not sure about the snowmen; Guayaquil has never seen one speck of snow, much less enough to make a man out of it.

The whole point of this ramble was to assure readers that if and when the company Christmas displays pop up way too early - heralding not joy and harmony, but rather stress, frustration, and displeasure at the brazen untimeliness of it all - they can know that the same thing happens all over the world. If that's not a consolation, consider buying some Christmas-themed ice cube trays and making little Jell-O snowmen for sport.

So last post we talked about (okay, I talked about; you readers don't really have much of a say in it, although there is always the Comments button should you have something pressing to say, such as, 'Jordan, enough with the garden already') building beds.

We (I) left off with four empty beds. The logical next step is to fill them in.

But with what?

Enter: The Great Soil Debacle of 2011. Actually, it was less a debacle and more a loaves-and-fish-multiplying sort of thing. It's a long story, but the Reader's Digest version is that it's hard to find soil in the big city, so Mike had to make an overnight trip and bring back all our soil the morning of the soil workshop. While there were a lot of logistical details that could have gone wrong, none did.

The trucker who drove Mike and our soil to Guayaquil could have slept through his alarm that morning, for instance.

The truck could have broken down on the highway and we would have had a soil-less soil workshop, for instance.

Mike could have been kidnapped by a band of rabid monkeys, for instance.

But, thankfully, none of those things happened, and that morning we found ourselves with a truck parked next to the Casita de Chocolate, about 30 large sacks of soil in the back of it, and a truck driver who refused to help us unload them, citing that his job was to drive the truck, not unload it.

One of the bicycle-cart men we had hired that morning agreed to help us unload. That went well for a while, until we got to the sacks of the really heavy type of soil. At that point, our bicycle-man walked out to the corner of the street, waved his arms, and shouted to everyone in the general vicinity that there was money to be made from unloading a truck.

Soon enough, we had some helping hands.

There were 3 or 4 different types of soil, and these hefty bags proved too much for us.

I think we may have caused these men serious back issues for the rest of their lives.

In the end, all the bags were unloaded, and nobody got hurt. We were left with lots of soil.

Lots and lots of soil. Too much soil. But we'll get to that later.

First, we have to use what soil we can to fill the beds we have:

Layer 1: Leaves.

Because we used leaves that were lying around, we didn't use so many leaves from the sacks we'd bought. This contributed to even more excess sackage!

Layer 2: Soil.

It took three grown men plus Übermensch Mike to lift just one of these bad boys.

Then they had to hobble across the garden and dump the bags in a bed to be opened and emptied out. At four bags per bed times four beds, this meant 16 trips with really heavy bags of soil.

At this point I decided to make myself useful by snapping pictures of other people working, and of napping babies:

Eventually enough bags of soil were heaved and ho'd into each of the beds, and again, miraculously, nobody was hurt in the process. After that it was just a matter of spreading the soil evenly and breaking up the larger lumps of clay.

Layer 3: Leaves, Redux.

Once the soil was in place, we topped off the beds with another layer of leaves. This time we used the finely chopped leaves we'd brought in.

And that's it. That's how you fill a bed with soil.

To recap:

Leaves on the bottom, then a layer of good soil (ideally a good balance of sandy and clay), then leaves on top. It's like a delicious soil sandwich for the plants, which are the next step.

But for now, let us take a step back and admire our handiwork:

(Notice all the extra bags; the soil aboundeth...)

And now would be the perfect time to utilize these beds for a nice nap, as they will never be as soft and dry as they are right now. Sleep tight! Over'n'out.

Over the past week, at our MidService Conference in Quito, I got to share the garden's progress with the rest of my training class. In return, I got to see just what everyone else has been up to since November (the last time the entire training class was together as a group), as well as participate in a flashmob (completely unrelated to anything).

Here, I shall continue sharing with you all the progress of the garden as well. The first couple days of our workshops were dedicated to building the beds. The Prefectura came in and helped us with this, building the first bed as a model, and then the rest was up to the group.

It was a collaborative effort, with women from INFA; doctors from the health center; the guys from the Prefectura; and community members all pitching in.

Earlier that morning, Mike and I picked up the materials we would need: caña (bamboo) and cuartones (square wooden beams).

We paid $2 to have a guy load them onto his bike cart and wheel them the few blocks to the Casita de Chocolate. It was a wild ride.

And now, a quick tutorial on building raised beds out of caña:

Step 1: Split the caña.

You have to start with an axe, but once you get it going it splits easily enough and you can just use your hands to pull it apart.

Each caña yielded 4-5 slats (enough for roughly half a bed) of the size we needed for our beds.

Step 2: Smooth out the caña with a machete.

Step 3: Saw the cuartón.

These pieces will be used to form the corners of the beds. Get 'em, Mike!

Oh - and you'll also need to saw some of the caña to form the shorter sides of the beds.

Measurements and muscles were involved here; I was not. Sawing caña is a lot harder than it looks. The stuff is stronger than wood! (Well, it felt like it, anyway.) I stood back and embraced my role as photographer at this point in the process.

Step 4: Hack the cuartón into stakes.

Again, these will be used for the corners of the beds, and they need to be pointy to go into the ground easier. ("Pointy" and "go into the ground" - these are very technical terms.)

Doctora Murrillo has been an integral part of our garden project from Day 1. Without her help, we wouldn't have the number of participants we have. She motivates people by wielding a machete and wearing a smile! - er, that is, she motivates people by leading by example.

Step 5: Stick the stakes in the ground.

There is a method to this, and it involves more measurements to make sure you put the stakes into the ground in a straight line, which comes in handy when you want a rectangular bed. It also involves the use of a very heavy metal pole that must be repeatedly driven into the ground to create a hole deep enough for the stake. Our soil was very rocky, so we also poured water into the half-finished holes to soften it up.

Once the stake is in, you fill in the soil and pound away at it with whatever's handy.

Another stake, say.

Or a mini sledgehammer.

Step 6: Nail the caña to the cuartón.

This is also harder than it looks; again, caña is hard.

In addition to the stakes anchoring the corners of the beds, we put some at the midpoint of the long sides to keep the caña from bowing outwards once the bed is filled with soil. We're smart like that.

And before you know it...

...Lo and behold, you've got a bed.

And in our case, a Mike. (Note: In Spanish, the word for "bed" as in a garden bed and "bed" as in where a person sleeps is one and the same, just as in English. I just wanted to share that with you and tell you to have no fear, Mike's little pun translates well. Moving on.)

For more beds, go back to Step 1 and repeat the process. Or, if you want to get fancy, you can multitask and do a teamwork approach to construct multiple beds at once. This is what we did over the course of three different bed-building sessions. At the end, it looked like this:

The beds are not perfect; they haven't been leveled, for instance. But at the end of the day, once they're filled with soil and tended to with diligence and affection, they shall serve their purpose. That'll do, Pig; that'll do.

1 - You have to have had a bank account in Ecuador for at least six months in order to get a phone plan; otherwise, don't even try.

2 - Go to the phone store with your ID and bank account information and explain to the sales associate that you would like to purchase a phone plan. Sign some papers. Believe them when they tell you that your plan should be up and running within 24 hours.

3 - 24 hours later, return to the phone store and ask why your plan has not yet been activated. Don't believe them when they tell you not to worry, your plan should be up and running within 24 hours.

4 - Repeat Step 3 for approximately one week.

5 - Live your life. Forget about getting a phone plan and spend inordinate amounts of money to buy minutes when you need to make a phone call.

6 - Three months later, realize that you really do need a phone plan and you would save a lot of money that way.

7 - Ask your friend who successfully got a phone plan to send you the exact steps he took in order to get one.

8 - Stand in line at the bank for two hours. Bring a book.

9 - Go back to the phone store with your bank account information, bank certificates, and every form of ID possible. Explain to the sales associate that you would like to purchase a phone plan. Believe them when they tell you that your plan should be up and running within 24 hours.

10 - 24 hours later, return to the phone store and ask why your plan has not yet been activated. Don't believe them when they tell you not to worry, your plan should be up and running within 24 hours.

11 - Repeat Step 10 for approximately one week.

12 - Live your life. Forget about getting a phone plan, ignore your phone as much as possible, and work to quell the wave of rage that washes over you whenever you have to use it.

13 - Answer your phone one day and be surprised that it is the phone company informing you that in order to sign up for a phone plan you must go to the large service center across town.

14 - Go to the large service center across town. Walk up to the door and see that it has a big, red "Coming Soon!" sign on it.

15 - Give up on getting a phone plan altogether. Eat some ice cream instead.

16 - Approximately three weeks after your attempt to go to the as-yet-unopened large service center across town, receive a text message informing you that you have successfully been signed up for a phone plan.

17 - Check your minutes and see that it is true: you now have a phone plan.

18 - Do not question what just happened. Life your life. Choose to believe that somehow, some way, all your prior efforts resulted in this miracle of miracles.

The End.

Today we made good on our plans as mentioned yesterday and painted signs with the kids in Eco Club.

Sometimes I get nervous doing craft activities with large groups of kids. Art materials, like Spiderman's powers, should be used responsibly. But we're talking about kids here, not Peter Parker, and things can go downhill pretty fast (don't even get me started on the hugely bad idea of using glitter with a bunch of 7-year-olds).

But today, glory hallelujah! The kids were into the sign-painting and stayed relatively on task. This might have had something to do with the fact that we split them up into smaller groups to paint.

Here, my group does a quick explanation of the activity:

We painted the signs in an effort to discourage people from throwing trash on the ground, and to encourage them to cuidar las plantas, help take care of the plants.

And while some of the paint ended up elsewhere...

...most of it ended up where it was supposed to.