I had envisioned my morning going much differently than it did. The plan was simple enough. Go to town, buy chickens and put them in the shed. Today, I learned that god or whatever higher power that rules over us mortals has a sense of humor.

But Tristan, do you not already own 5 chickens a voice in my head announced? Well strange voice in my head, I owned 3 chickens which I (you) ate, and now I am (we are) left with 2 hens who are cranking out lots of eggs. I figured it would be fun to buy three more poultry to gift to my host family and eat with my friends who are coming to visit in December.

The bus ride in was as uneventful as selecting the three chickens which were two females, one male and each were roughly the size of 6 piece McNugget boxes. Huey, Dewy, Louie (as I named them) and I then boarded the bus back to Baños. They were wedged humanely in a box which did not have air holes I until I poked them. The Ménage à trois box of chickens were quiet noisy on the bus and earned some warranted strange looks. This was not normal gringo behavior.

Weather Interjection: It had rained the past few days and now the sun was shining but the streets were still mud covered and tough to navigate on foot without incident. Can you see where this is going?

We departed the bus and began the short walk to my host family’s house. Not paying attention, which I am usually not, my foot found a great patch of slickness and I fell with a gracefulness that cannot be taught. Now mostly covered in mud I noticed one of the chickens staring at me, in front of me, not in the box. Of course the box had to break. I let out a pathetic sigh. Fuck.

I grabbed the little guy and quickly located another one scuttling to a nearby trash pile. With a chicken in each hand I spun around to see a scene no chicken owner wants to see. The chicken stood 10 feet away in a staring competition with none other than Old James. Old James, it had to be him.

He is the best of the worst street dogs in my barrio. Self appointed alpha dog of Baños this bastard fears nothing. I have seen him attack cars going full speed with the intention of winning. While he can usually be found drooling on some stoop, he occasionally ventures out to prove himself. Today was one of those occasions.

Before I could think of any solution other than throwing the chickens in my hands at him, the chase was on.

This next part is best told by fictitious outside observers.

Martha and Rosa, both indigenous women, explain the madness that they just saw.

Well, we were just sitting there on the porch shucking corn, probably discussing the weather or latest town gossip I don’t remember, when a baby chicken goes running by. Now there is nothing terribly unusual about that or the dog chasing it. But what came to pass next neither of us could have ever imagined. That weird gringo, you know the one who had that big ugly beard for awhile? Yeah him. Well he just came out of nowhere completely soaked in mud with a chicken in each hand yelling something in English. I think he was drunk or on the drugs or something. He was chasing that dog, which was chasing the chicken like a mad man. I swear I have never seen anything like it. Martha proclaims.

This is where Rosa would probably chime in with “some village in America is missing its idiot.”

And a good laugh would be had by all.

After jumping two fences I turn the corner of an old house only to see Old James sitting with a shit-eating grin standing over a pile of feathers. I could not help but laugh. I was mad at him but I released I was going to eat the chicken someday so why not laugh?

The surviving two needed new names. I would like to present to the world Mister and Misses Brunch.

I promise someday I will write a blog that has nothing to do with rugby or chickens.

Sports are much more than just games; rugby is no exception. Through sports we can teach and learn respect, humility, nutrition and many other important life skills.

That statement is the basis for my new Peace Corps project. At the suggestion of my players we successfully created Cuenca’s first middle and high school rugby teams. The process started last week with three separate presentations at a school explaining what rugby is and what we hope to accomplish. Rugby is a very new sport to Ecuador and Cuenca in particular. Many people think the game is nothing more than an uncontrolled bar fight full of barbarians and cretins. A doctor once told a player here that man has evolved from brutal sports like rugby to play futbol. This is an entirely false statement. Rugby, in fact, evolved from futbol in England in the early 1800’s and last I checked injuries still occur in futbol. We as rugby players face an uphill battle in this futbol culture.

Many of the kids expressed genuine interest and asked excellent questions during the sessions in the past week. On paper we had 30 or so interested in starting training the coming Monday. Due to other experiences I have had, I did not expect half of the people to show up. I was pleasantly wrong.

There were a total of 32 kids on Monday at practice! 16 of them were between the ages of 11 and 15. The other half was 16 to 18 years old. I must say I was a bit unprepared for those kinds of numbers but luckily I had help. Lucho, one of the players on my team was there to assist in dividing the horde into into the age groups and he took the younger of the two.

Several other players besides Lucho have shown up this week to lend a hand in teaching the next generation 3 times a week for an hour and a half. I could not be more pleased with this project. Although I cannot take much, if any credit for the idea or even the follow through of the project. My players came up with the idea along with David who attends the high school and trains with us. He was the one who talked with the administrators and set up meeting times for us to meet with the proper authorities to hash out the details. And before we knew it we had practices full of eager kids wanting to learn a new game thanks to a solid group effort.

It is an amazing thing to be a part of.

As a player and coach of an undefeated team this is a hard fact to accept. However, some days, the scores of the game do not reflect the events that took place on the field. This was one of those days.

We arrived at the field a man short, not an ideal situation for a game against a tough adversary. Not only were we short one player, we also were lacking several of our key players due to injury or job relocations. But the show must go on.

We took to the field and though no one said it, we all knew what everyone was thinking. The average player on their team was the size of our biggest player, Jose. Jose weighs in around 220 lbs and our average player weighs in about 180. Speed and solid defense were our only chance.

The Yaguares (for inexplicable reasons they spelled it wrong…) scored first by swinging the ball to the outside man thus exploiting the advantage of their numbers. Their forwards (the bigger guys on a rugby team) really dominated the game. So, as a counter measure, we decided to only attack with our backs (smaller guys) and play to our only strength.

15 minutes or so in to the game our full back, Dinamita, damaged a ligament in his knee and had to retire. Now we are down two players. We continued to play tough, getting hammered every time we got the ball. But we pressed on.

Just before the half ended, another player, Jonathan or “Crash”, took a knee to the jaw (fractured in 2 places). Once the referee realized there was a player down he whistled the half over.

Thirteen of us were left standing. Though I did not want to “throw in the towel” as a player, as a coach I had too. With only 13 people there was no feasible way we could win, but more importantly I did not want to have any more of our players hurt for the sake of pride.

The rest of the team agreed with the decision and so it was made. At halftime we forfeited the rest of the match with the final score being 15-6 in favor of the Yaguares.

I was prepared to give a speech in the post game huddle about holding our heads high and being proud of how we played. But when I looked around the circle I saw nothing but smiles on the faces of my comrades. They already were proud of themselves and their teammates. We all agreed that this was the best game we had all played, even though we had lost. We then counted to 3 and gave a good cheer for our team. AGUILAS!!!

As we disbanded I looked to the other team’s huddle and heard something that caught me and the rest of my team by surprise. They cheered Aguilas, our team’s name.

That is what rugby is all about. Win or lose, it is truly about how you play the game.

We stuck around to watch the next game and then afterwards all the teams headed out together to get food and beer, as is the tradition of the sport.

To say the least, the last week was very eventfull!

The Peace Corps project for the home of the eldery is now fully funded! Thanks to everyone for your love and support for this great project in a rough economy. The group I am working with to implement the project is equally as eager as I am to begin once the funds are transfered.

Earlier in the week I was lucky enough to go to Isla de la Plata with some of my friends. What an amazing place! It is a small island off the coast of Puerto Lopez (Ecuador) and is part of the National Park of Machalilla. It is home to multiple species of birds, the most famous being the Blue-footed Booby.

This time of year is particularly good because Humpback whales migrate to the warm waters of the equator to breed. On the boat ride out to the Isla we were able to catch a few whales breaching, and even one feeding!

It is also a very special time on the Isla because the boobies are in the peak of their mating season. The male and female have very distinct and different calls, and the males even have a dance and a present to go along with the whole charade. The male will waddle and lift his legs to impress a female. And, as a sad attempt to prove that chivalry is in fact, not dead, he offers his inamorata the nearest twig as a token of his love. To me the male´s call sounded a bit like a little kid blowing on a Kazoo without knowing how to play it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYmzdvMoUUA

(copy and paste the link into your browswer) This video is not mine, but captures the same scene we saw.

The pictures below are mine

Another new experience for me on this trip was surfing. I was able to rent a board and get lessons for 2 hours for a rate of $25. Worth every penny! My instructor, Miguel, was a good teacher and could really explain to me what I needed to do to correct my mistakes.

Things I learned:

1. The general principles of how to surf

2. Swallowing large amounts of sea water leads to an upset stomach

3. Yes, it is possible to belly flop off of a surf board

4. Surfing (or drowning in style) is fun

Flyfishing, one more thing I can check off of my long list of things to do before I get too smart or too old to do them, whichever comes first. Flyfishing, as far as the list and reality go, is not dangerous. Similar to my surfing experience, I am by no means an expert; I learned much of the basics. However, it was much less painful and had tastier results than surfing. I did not catch anything on a fly rod, but reeled in a good sized Rainbow trout on a standard rod.

I did not just go and rent some fishing gear, I learned from some real fishing experts. Several expats here in Cuenca started the Cuenca Flyshing Club. All of the members are extremely nice and willing to help any newbies get into the sport. Kent, one of the founders, was the one who showed me how to handle the fly rod. It is much more elegant than regular reel fishing. Watching a good fly fisherman is like watching a great painter paint. There is a relaxing beauty to the dance of the weighted line as it flies in front of, and behind the angler.

After the sun had set it was time to drink a nice homebrewed beer and cook our catch. Gutting the fish was a new experience for Joey, Michael and I. while doing it, I was unsure of how to pull out the guts once the incision was made. Michael explained to me what he did and I had an aha moment! I located the gills and pulled. Ta-da! As it turns out, it is pretty easy thing to do once you know what you are doing.

Here are a few shots of Cuenca!

The following story is not a recent one, but I wanted to share it anyways.

Growing up in a non-hunting part of Pennsylvania was an interesting start to life for me. In my home town owning a gun is almost considered a crime in the eyes of some. Not to mention hunting and harvesting game are activities that should never, under any circumstance ever, never ever ever be done. But remember, it is ok to buy poultry that lived in a tiny cage, fed steroids and then packaged and put on the shelves of the local grocery store.

On the other hand I also grew up listening to my grandfather’s tales of hunting elk, whitetail and muleys in Wyoming and the mountains of Colorado. His stories kept me on the edge of my seat as a kid and are always a camp fire favorite for a few of my friends.

At the age of 18, in my first year of college and after years of shooting shotguns with my father, we decided it was time I made some hunting stories of my own and we booked my very first hunt. Pheasant.

Pheasants originated in Asia and were first introduced to the US in the 1800s. Ringneck Pheasants, like the ones on the hunt, can now be found across the globe due to their readiness to breed in captivity and the fact they can adapt to numerous climates.

The male Pheasant, also known as a rooster, is larger and far more colorful than its female counterpart. He sports a long tail that when fully matured nearly doubles the length of his body. His head is primarily dark green with bright red around the eyes and beak. The body is a combination of browns and brilliant shades of gold.

An unfortunate sports accident a few weeks before the fall hunt had blown out my ACL and meniscus of my right knee. I was absolutely heartbroken, thinking I was going to have to miss my first hunt and wait six months after the surgery before it would be possible to go on another hunt.

But we Schrecks are stubborn people.

I got the surgery done and a week later I hopped on my crutches and we went off to the hunt. Being on crutches complicates even the simplest of tasks, so I knew I was in for a challenge. Nevertheless, I was not going to let anything stand in the way.

Our guide Robby and his German shorthaired pointer, Doc, were sympathetic of my situation because one of his other dogs had knocked him over several years ago and blown out his knee. The instant I heard that I knew that there was no better guide in the world for me!

The plan was for me, my father and Robby (who carried my 12 gauge over and under) to follow Doc and wait for him to go on point. The rainy weather had made an absolute mess of the fields and my crutches sank several inches into the mud with every step and the holes they left would instantly fill up with the left over ground water. This made my progress somewhat slower than our hyper active bird dog hot on a scent.

Apart from the poor ground conditions, the scenery was a picturesque mid-November day at the M and M Hunting Preserve in New Jersey. Beautiful blue and grey clouds covered the late fall sun, only allowing the occasional rays to shine through. All the trees had shed their leaves for the inevitable approaching winter and the cold air nipped at our bare faces in a refreshing way.

This is what I had envisioned for the hunt.

Doc soon had a bird cornered at the end of a waist high plot of corn stubble and went on a picture-perfect point, like the kind you would see in the old Winchester posters. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I crutched with all my strength to catch up to the others at the point. Robby traded me the shotgun for the crutches and I snapped the breach of the Browning ULTRA XS shut with two shells loaded. I completely forgot the state of my leg and assumed my shooting stance which had become second nature.

Time came to an utter stand still as I watched the tip of Doc’s muzzle for where the bird would burst out of the brush. Doc held the point for a solid minute before I arrived, a very impressive feat. He never flinched until he heard the call.

“Flush’em!”

The racket a rooster pheasant makes as he beats his wings to get out of thick brush is quite a thing! I let him fly for bit, watching this beautiful creature in motion before I swung over him and squeezed the trigger. First shot, first bird! What a feeling!

Without any hesitation Doc was on the bird and before I could stop shaking from excitement Doc brought the bird back and placed it gently in the hands of his master. Who, in turn, handed me my first bird. I could feel the warmth of the bird through my gloves and his distinct scent filled my nose. If you have never seen a pheasant up close you must add it to your list. These are in my opinion the prettiest of all birds.

M and M Hunting Preserve works extremely hard to make sure the birds have plenty of natural habitats on the preserve and maintains them to perfection. They are a true model of sustainable hunting.

After the hunt we brined one of the pheasants with sautéed onions, white wine and a few spices. Then we let it marinate for a few hours before roasting it. What a fantastic way to end the day!

So, despite being on crutches I went on my first hunt with my father and it could not have been any better! Now I have my own hunting story (and hopefully many more!) to tell my grandchildren someday.

So, I figured it is time to do some more videos!

Nothing is killed in these editions, sort of...

Copy and paste the links below into your browswer and enjoy! (send to friends too! I want to earn those theoretical YouTube dollars)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7GGSHtqeks&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWnbitBO8YQ

In which the author expresses his frustration with the barrier of language, being a gringo and feeling the need to scream, curse and throw heavy things at breakable things

The following is a translated conversation that is had weekly with the lady who owns the tienda next to my house.

“hi, I would like to return these (beer) bottles and buy two more beers.”

“What?¨

“I would like to buy two beers, please”

“I don’t know what that is.”

Through gritted teeth and a feigned smile “beer (I point to empty bottles I am returning). Cold beer, those bottles in the fridge?”

Long pause “Ohhhh, Beer. Haha, yeah how many.”

Folks, if there is one word I know how to pronounce in Spanish it is beer. Never have any other problems buy stuff from this lady, just beer. I swear she does it just to fuck with me. Imagine if an employee did that to a certain client every Monday morning at Starbucks.

Caffeine Fiend Beats Sarcastic Employee With Espresso Machine

Not saying I would beat a tienda lady for messing with me and my happy hour. [Legal department insisted that I add that sentence] But seriously, when its 5’o’clock on a Friday and I bring empty bottles, they just need to be replaced. Go ahead and mess with me when I am trying to by yogurt or a banana, but don’t fuck with my beer. Comprende?

The aforementioned story inspired my latest creation, Coffee Porter. A nice dark beer mixed with a very strong batch of organic Ecuadorian coffee. Yeah, it’s good.

I recently purchased the Lord of The Rings trilogy on DVD for $4.50 [legally]. There is nothing like getting through the first 2 disks and then looking forward all day to completing the set with a nice home brewed beer after work only to find that the third disk is just another copy of the second one. There is no curse in Elvish, Entish or Spanish to express this feeling.

But I digress, life is good.

Remember those cute white chickens I had? Well we did BYODC (bring your own dead chicken) at the local rotisserie chicken place and then had a nice take out dinner. Kind of like Boston Market, right?

(with inserts from ¨Master¨)

Yesterday Master gave us an extra handful of feed and our favorite, Wheat Bread! He has done this before and we all fought hard to get our share and a little more. But the next day he took one of us away, we have not seen Breakfast since then. Maybe she got promoted?

Anyhow, Dinner and I are getting a little nervous because Master might take one of… Uh oh, here is here! Quick hide! (Chickens run to other side of 4X4 sized pen and bury their heads in their feathers)

Not me, not me!!! (Judging weight of chickens) Shoot, he picked me! Goodbye Dinner!

What is that grain sack for? Oh, you want me inside of it? I am not a big fan of this idea, but ok. Where are we going Master? I cluck. No response from him. I have often felt he does not understand me, we never understand him.

We seem to have stopped moving. Whose face is that looking in the bag? I guess this is my New Master. He seems nice, though he quite a bit shorter than Master, he will do. (gifted the chicken to a family in my town who has been very kind to me)

New Master’s house is a lot different and there are some strange looking animals here. They are big, pink and smell like our cage did when Master would forget to clean it for awhile. I am sharing a cage with this other Hen; she is not too friendly but is much nicer than that psychotic male bird next door. Who does he think he is making all that racket whenever it pleases him?

Well it is time for bed, goodnight strange new world.

Ugh, that stupid bird kept us up all night! What nerve.

Hooray, New Master is here with breakfast, yum! Aw, shoot, just dried corn? Master always gave us a good mixture, oh well, food is food. Bye, New Master and thanks!

Hey what the heck! The male bird snuck in our cage! Get out I scream from the other side of the cage. Oh no, he… he just killed the hen! No, you stay away from me you killer! He runs at me, but today is not my day to die. So I cover my head with my feathers and drop to the ground. Hahaha! I have bested the beast!

I think he is gone… Oh good, New Master came back and took him away. Good job New Master! I see the hen’s body next to me, poor girl. She never saw it coming. More food for me!

Oh hey New Master, what is that shinny thing you got there? Oh, we are going somewhere, ok as long as it is away from that male bird.

A steal door with a large man behind it guards the arena. He looks through the speakeasy-style slot window and curtly pointed the way to the ticket booth. Because tonight is a major event general admission is $5, second row $15 and the ring side seats are $20. We opted for the $5 general admission; the arena is not big by any means so general admissions will suite our purpose just fine.

Clint (another PCV) pointed out that the air was not as smoky as he had imagined, I agreed. However, I did not know entirely what to expect.

First is the weigh-in for the initial round of fights. A long feather and shit stained table is where the men place their prized fighters to match up against a fighter of similar size and weight. Most of the fighters like to brag and boast to the other fighters and occasionally a pre-fight skirmish happens on the table. It is because of this that the fighters are faced towards their trainers and away from the others. Once a match is made they are then brought over to an official scale to weigh in.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to cock fighting.

First rule of cock fighting is, if you make a bet, you pay up if you lose without a protest. This is the word of the gallero. This is a term similar to caballero, which means gentlemen or cowboy and is a very respectful thing to call a man. Gallo is a rooster or cock, so a gallero is an honorable term for men who work with or raise fighting cocks. Now that you have an idea of how things are done and some terminology, let us move on.

Once the match-ups were decided, a purse was agreed upon between the two owners. The purses for tonight’s fight were in the range of $100 to $1,500. Though if the owners had wanted, the fight could be worth more.

Preparation for a fight takes some time. Before the birds are even brought to the arena or coliseum their feathers are trimmed in numerous styles. One commonality was that all of the fighters’ legs were completely shaved. Some sported grand tails up to a foot long with many feathers while others only had a few.

We watched over the shoulder of a gallero as he was preparing his bird for a fight. The spurs of the cocks are cut off (in advance and is only needed once in the life of a cock) and tape is put around the nub of the spur. Some kind of wax/glue is heated (in this case it was done by a candle) and the hot goo is applied to the tape/spur nub. Now a metal piece is applied to the glue. Once it is dry, more tape is applied to secure it. Next comes the artificial spur attachment. I had been told before coming here that they attach razor blades to the spurs; this is not the case, at least not here.

The gallero showed us his case of spurs; he had many of different sizes and material. Some were made of turtle shells and others were from the teeth of fish. They ranged from around a half inch to almost three inches. The fighters have to have equal length spurs. Fair is fair.

Once they are in place the bird is almost battle ready. Many of the trainers had different styles to warm up their fighters. Some would let them run around the arena keeping space between their fighter and the opponent. Others would hold the tail of the fighter while they trotted around on the floor and some just kept them in their arms stroking the plume while they negotiated side bets with the crowd.

The love, the pride and the respect for these animals is obvious even to outsiders.

Bets can be made at anytime with anyone who is willing. Some would shout out the color of the bird and the price they wanted to bet and a man might accept on the other side of the arena with a reply and that is it. The bet is set in stone. Occasionally we saw people up the stakes or make bets mid-fight.

Cock fighting is legal in Ecuador; dog fighting is not.

For tonight, the rules were as follows. A fight will last twelve minutes, unless one of the combatants dies, no longer fights or the owner throws in the towel. There is also a prize of $1,000 to the winner if the fight was over in 12 seconds.

The referee comes center arena to announce the big fight worth $1500. Bets are being made all around the room and I make a meager 5 dollar bet to a man sitting near me. My friend Jaime (Ecuadorian) gets up to buy a beer and is back within 30 seconds but the fight is already over. The arena was in an organized chaos of people exchanging stacks… stacks of bills to pay their debts. I forked over my dollars without complaint seeing as how I lost pennies compared to what the one man just lost. Such is the nature of the sport; it can be 12 minutes of ferocity on both sides or 30 seconds of utter domination.

As I write this, I find myself torn between two sides of an argument. On the one hand, I greatly enjoy watching these stunning creatures fight and the fluidity of their movements within the arena. And yet, from time to time a fight results in the death of one the contenders.

As the first round of fights came to an end, we made our way over to the weigh-in table. What we came across was a heartbreaking sight. The loser of one of the fights was face up on the table and breathing heavily while his owners stood next to him.

Some critics of the sport will say that fighting these animals can only be done by cruel and heartless men. These people have never seen a man watch helplessly as his prize fighter, his companion, fades to the next world. There was nothing but love and admiration as he stroked the plume of his dying friend. Some of these men have 5 cocks, while some might have 500. But there is no doubt that these animals are viewed with the equal, and if not more respect than most Americans have for their beloved four legged friends.

For some of these men, this is their livelihood and for others it is a very serious passion.

I remember one time in high school when my father came to a wrestling match of mine. I got pummeled and beaten for 2 rounds before being pinned, not scoring a single point. I felt embarrassed and ashamed and defeated. I do not think I fully understood the love a father has for a son until I saw my father’s face after that match. Something unexplainable was in his eyes, and I saw the same look in the eyes of this gallero as he looked on to his cock breathe his last few breathes. Not much was said at this time; you did not have to understand the language, even if there was something to be said. This was a sad affair and the visible truth to the ugly side of the sport.

The love, the pride and the respect for these animals is obvious even to outsiders.

My parents decided to come for a visit and this is more or less what happened.

Wherein parents visit their son in the Peace Corps, eat strange fruits and meats, mangle Spanish, ride buses and in the back of pick ups, meet really cool people and fortune telling parakeets, feed chickens, watch roosters spar and other adventures worth of a truly great vacation.

It’s hard to believe we have been home for one week; that our vacation to Ecuador to visit our son Tristan is over. Bummer. Because we really, really liked Ecuador, the people, the food, the scenery, everything. We are already counting the months for our return.

We flew into Guayaquil as it’s a mere 120 miles from Cuenca, the third largest city in Ecuador and close to where Tristan is based. That’s nothing we think; a mere 2 hour car ride in the US. Tristan and a Banos friend (bless him!) pick us up at our Guayaquil hotel Saturday morning. Miraculously we manage to stuff all our bags into his car and off we go. The terrain is flat, hot and tropical at first (vast fields of bananas and rice paddies), but within an hour you start climbing mountains as you head east towards Cuenca. For the next hour you are pretty sure this is where Jurassic Park was filmed and when you think you can’t get any higher, you do. The next thing you know, you are over 14,000 feet and your pathetic, little, sea level, heart struggles to beat fast enough to get oxygen to your big American limbs and head. The scenery loses its jungle look at this elevation and is strewn with lakes as far as you can see and terrific craggy peaks that my imagination goes nuts over. Is that Qaddafi standing next to the Virgin? No, its oxygen deprivation superimposed over the peaks. But the alpacas, horses, cows (even a dead one being skinned by a family), goats and other assorted animals along the road were real.

We finally descend into Cuenca, and are relieved to find its only 8400 ft. It’s a very big city with a very European feel complete with cobble stone streets. Tristan picked a cute hotel on one of Cuenca’s 4 rivers; the hotel is called “Villa Nova”. Our very big room is just perfect for the three of us and at 65 dollars (including breakfast & laundry) the price is right. As the purpose of this trip was to see the town where Tristan works, meet his villagers and friends, Cuenca was a nice centrally located spot. I envisioned our 8 days and 7 nights here to be very relaxing, lots of sitting in cafes watching the world go by. But that isn’t how it turned out. Tristan had us hopping every minute of the day, so much so it took me a week to recover and write this up.

We started off with a big Sunday afternoon dinner with Tristan’s host family (Isabel, her mom, one of her sons, her sister Matilda and others) in the nearby little town of Banos where Tristan lives and works. Although Tristan now lives on his own nearby, he visits them frequently and they still house his 5 chickens and his veggie garden. The dinner was the classic Banos dinner feast of spit roasted cuy ( pronounced COO-EEE and which sounds a lot better than guinea pig), some chicken all on a bed of potatoes and rice. Unfortunately they don’t drink alcohol, as wine always helps my Spanish and perhaps I could have eaten a bite of the cuy. But as it was, I nearly fainted and just couldn’t do it. But since John ate his to the bone and they were amused with my Spanish, I was forgiven (I think). They are a very quiet and nice family, so unlike ours. Tristan was relieved that the dinner went so well.

Hospitality is really something in Ecuador. Two other locals from Tristan’s town insisted we go to the National Park with them. So John and Tristan hopped in the back of the truck and off we went to go hiking to a lake near where a young girl saw the Virgin back in the 80s. It’s a big open air church now and even the Pope came to visit this place once, although I am suspicious the sighting might have had something to do with lack of oxygen. But maybe not, as I lived to tell this tale. Just as we climbed up to top of the mountain, with my heart going at full tilt, it started to hail mightily. We gobbled a few bananas and ran back down. Just for good measure, mother nature threw in some thunder and lightening. What an adventure. But we made it back to the truck where the guys had to ride in the back in the freezing rain. We were treated to a marvelous fried trout lunch, drank the local cane sugar hooch and headed back to Cuenca for a nice hot shower.

A big part of this trip was meeting the other Peace Corps Volunteers that are in the Cuenca area; Julie, her brother Seth, Jamie, Clint, Sonia, to name a few. They are just a terrific bunch of kids, helping locals with a variety of projects, and just getting some of the best experiences you can get in life. Like Tristan, most have been here about a year and their Spanish is terrific. John and I had a blast treating them to drinks and dinner at La Cigale for about 6 dollars a person! The prices were so unbelievably low to us, yet the quality and freshness of the food was impressive. Though 6 dollars wasn’t low to the PCVs who live on about 10 dollar per day! We figured what we live on a day, and its not 10 dollars!

Next up was dinner with the Padre at the beautiful blue Banos church. Now this event had Tristan really worried, but we didn’t let him down. We attended the mass before hand (I loved the dogs just trotting up and down the aisles), then ate dinner with 14 folks all in Spanish. I thought Catholics were big drinkers and I was looking forward to some nice wine with dinner to facilitate my Spanish. But alas, no wine again, just a spot of coke. Dinner was once again the cuy and chicken on an enormous bed of rice and potatoes. But rumors of my not liking cuy had made it to the church and I was mercifully spared. The boys this time were served an entire half of cuy, including head and feet. Tristan and John ate quite a bit. They like the crispy roasted skin, but its pretty clear to me there is no meat on these animals. I hear it tastes like pork.

Speaking of pork, Friday is pork roasting day in Banos and all sorts of folks set up a freshly killed pig and roast it on the spot with a big ass blow torch. They sell it piece by piece to passers by. I think I will try that this Friday in downtown Wayne, PA. Tristan said we had to get there early or it would be all gone. He was right. We got there about 9am, just in time to watch these folks skillfully torch the pig (it was already dead), scrape the skin and do that again. It looked like hard work. Cars started pulling over for a square of the crisp roasted skin, salted on a bed of these weird big corn pieces called Mote. We were back later for the rendered bacon. Omg, was that terrific. That may actually have been the only day I ate fat. For the most part we consumed fruit in massive quantities either fresh or ground up in drinks including a yummy avocado shake. There were the usual fruits; papaya, watermelon, mango, and bananas. But there were also fruits like tomato del arbol which reminds me of a persimmon and is actually a member of the potato family even though it grows on trees (go figure); granadillas which somewhat look like a lime on the outside, but you cut it open and scoop out the sweet brain-like insides; and uvillas also known as gooseberries (my new favorite). They even make a fruit soup here. It’s traditional for November 1, the day of the dead, but good anytime I can attest. I think I will make it for Thanksgiving if I can find any decent fruit that time of year.

Tristan’s Banos friend showed us his fighting roosters. They are beautiful, but when you set them on the ground they take on the nearest living thing. Just like our Jack Russell Daisy. Actually, they stared each other down, jumped over one another, fluffed up etc. But without spurs on, it’s kind of like my dogs fighting. It was all show.

We went with Tristan shopping for stuff for his apartment, including shopping for a used refrigerator. Tristan says you ‘Google Ecuador style’, which means you just ask a bunch of cab drivers where to buy a used refrigerator until you find one that does. Haha I thought, no Craig’s List? What kind of country is this? But with 90 minutes we had located a beauty that was big enough to fit the beer keg we brought him (I kid you not) and had it delivered to his apartment. Beat that Craig’s List. Other shopping adventures included going to the big open air market where you can buy everything (except used refrigerators) and get your fortune told by a parakeet named Lulu. It’s pretty complicated and I am still trying to decipher just exactly what my fortune is.

A visit to Cuenca wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the Inca Lounge run by “Mike”. This cute place is conveniently located near our hotel, which may be why Tristan had found it. Inca serves up great food and drink to a mix of ex pats and locals. Oh, but the Ecuadorian government doesn’t allow liqueur to be served or sold on Sundays. What’s that about guys? It doesn’t go over so well with the vacationing set or the locals for that matter. But other than that, the locals I spoke to in my limited Spanish had nothing much to complain about and were rather proud of their country and even their government.

As if Tristan weren’t up to enough, he coaches a local rugby team. Due to most of the men taking night classes, practice often doesn’t start until 10p! But it must be working as they are still basking in the glow of their gold medal finish from last fall! John managed to stay up late enough for one of his practices.

Finally, we saw a lot of evidence that Cuenca really is on the top ten list of ex-US places to retire as reported by the Wall Street Journal. We didn’t meet any tourists, but all the elderly gringos we saw were searching for a place to live here. We can certainly understand. We loved this area of Ecuador, the people, natural beauty, even the crazy insane 25 cent bus rides around town.

Ciao. Until next time!

Patricia and John Schreck

We all know the reality of working out in Ecuador. It is no fun being chased by dogs or being gawked at, so here is how I deal with it. No, this is not a weapon to fend off the hounds or a club to beat the onlookers and whistlers.

No need to spend your hard earned cash on fancy weights, this piece of equipment costs around $6 and can be used for various workouts. No matter how far out in the Campo you are, you can find these materials. Plus it is fun and easy to make!

1. Find a piece of sturdy metal piping in the desired length and weight. Mine is a meter and half, weighs about 10 lbs and cost $3.

2. Buy cement and sand! Should not cost more than $3.

3. Get some soda bottles, I used 3 liters. Cut the bottles around the top

4. Fill them with a mixture of sand and cement, and then add water and mix until you have cement paste.

5. Place the pipe as best you can in the middle of the cement. Let dry for a day.

6. Now do the other side!

7. Make sure you get the sides to be pretty close in weight; you can add more cement to either side if need be later.

I made mine wide enough so I could squats, should presses, curls etc. Great for guys and gals! You can also make dumbbells this way too.

Enjoy!

The sun was shining through the windows of my bedroom early on Friday morning and without looking at my alarm clock I knew what time it was. Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday a pig is roasted (with a flame thrower) right out front of my apartment around 8am. It only takes a few minutes from the start of the process until my house is filled with the aroma of bacon and usually a few extra flies. Bacon cologne?

Fridays are my favorite day in Baños by far. Every corner has a pig roasting or some other kind of food cooking over a grill. The spas always seem to play their music extra loud on these days and it gives it the feel of fun beach town. Didn’t bring your bathing suit? No problemo, you can always rent one... Forgot your favorite floatable toy? No worries, we got them too.

I have become good friends with the one of the local tienda guys, Jaime, who I had thought was his brother until after being here a few months. He has shown me house, a 2nd floor apartment on a dirt road surrounded by farms. This is typical for here in Baños. What was not typical was the flat screen-surround sound set up in the living room, the flat screen in the bedroom and the two person Jacuzzi style hot tub with a small flat screen TV. Jaime has done well for himself and has spent some time living and working in Nashville Tennesse. He also showed me the article that crowned him Nashville’s best waiter in 2008. Easy to see that he would win, he is friendly and is always in a great mood.

His father, brother (who also runs the tienda) and mother all run a pig stand on Fridays. It is by far the best pig in Baños. Best part is every once and awhile I get free lunch from them. Nothing like good food for free!

One morning when I opened the door of Pricilla and Cheesesteak’s pen I was angrily greeted by the later. She strutted right up to my feet and gave a few sharp pecks and walked away. My first thought was “maybe I will eat sooner than expected.” Then

I noticed the water trough had been knocked over and was bone dry. When I refilled it the pair of them ran right to it and drank for quite some time. These two seem to be much smarter than the other three chickens I have. They are of a different and dumber breed and have even gotten stuck in the food dispenser a few times which has kept me baffled to this day on how they could do that.

I recently gave up on growing out my beard for two years. After 6 months the beard had run its course and drove me mad. My community found this hilarious. The most common greeting I received began with a good laugh and a phrase similar to “you look so much younger.” Padre Vicente saw me and almost fell over laughing “you look like a fifteen year old boy.” Well, it is true I do look younger, but 15?

Well the whole thing helped me to achieve one of Peace Corps unofficial goals. Provide the locals with entertainment.

My homemade hard apple cider experiment yielded an ok first batch and far better second one. The current fermenting batch at the Baños Brewery is a Cranberry Pomegranate Hard Apple Cider coming to a bar nowhere near you. I might keep this batch for myself!

This past weekend I went to Saraguro which is about 2.5 hours south of Cuenca. Jamie, another PCV, organized a fiesta to get together and have some fun. The main event was a sheep roast (in actuality it was a ram, and we didn’t roast it, it was cooked over a stove) on Saturday. Jamie hails from Texas, but his family is from Mexico so he wanted to share some of his culture (and food!) with fellow volunteers.

It was an interesting yet long process from the moment the throat was cut to the actual eating the meat. However, it was well worth the wait. The sheep tacos were to die for!

The first part Sunday was spent recovering from eating too many tacos and the consumption of copious amounts of cervesa. Afterwards a bunch of us hiked to some spectacular waterfalls and enjoyed the scenery.

Things I find funny:

1. One of the older women in my town wears a be-jeweled pink hat that says “White Culture.”

2. Walking to work trying my best to avoid the mud puddles in the dirt road only to fall in one.

3. Naming the local dogs, making up personalities and their back stories.

4. Moo-ing at a cow and having an old lady see me do this and just stare with an expression of confusion.

5. Being the town’s goofy white guy.

So for those of you who have not heard, I can now add chicken farmer to my resume. I now have 5 chickens that I keep at my host family’s house. I also started a small garden, with some things I like and others I hate...

There is a fruit here called “tomate de arbol” and it’s pretty sour and my least favorite fruit ever. I told my host mom I wanted to plant “tomates.” She gave me instructions on where to go in the market and who to buy from. As directed I went to the market and found the right section. A nice lady came up to me and says “tomates?” Strange, I guess she reads minds. (I later found out that Isa had told her a bearded gringo wanted tomates) So she hands me the plants, 4 for a $1. The leaves seemed to be bigger than I remembered, but I paid the dollar and left.

While planting I looked at the leaves of these tomate plants and then at the tomate de arbol ones Isa has. Fuck a duck. I had just planted 3 of these damn things. Oh well, someone else can have the pleasure of eating them.

Garden de Gringo has:

Lettuce, Tomate de arbol, garlic, wax beans (not my idea), radishes, carrots and rosemary. I am going to plant tomatoes, onions and broccoli as well in the near future. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to let me know!

I have also moved out of my host family’s house and into my own apartment. It has a mudroom, bathroom, kitchen, to bedrooms and a little outdoor patio. The larger of the bedrooms is going to serve as the man-cave/brewery. The place is coming along but still needs a stove and fridge. So for now it is peanut butter sandwiches and street food (yummmmmm).

Hey everyone, this is my first attempt at a video blog!

It is me and Isa (my host mother) killing, preparing and cooking a chicken, enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tj4Kr0T3-BE

(Copy the link into your browser to watch)

So as some of you may know I went back to the US for the holidays. I think the biggest shock was the cold! Woo wee was it cold! It was nice to see everyone, friends and family. I did not feel culture shock of any kind that I noticed. What I did feel was an immense amount of appreciation for all we have as Americans. But mostly I felt very lucky to have such supportive and great friends and family.

10 days went very quick and the next thing I knew I was back to work on the other side of the world.

April fools in Ecuador falls on the 6th of January, which is also my birthday. My host family was nice and bought me a small cake to celebrate the occasion. However they had a fun surprise for me. As I blew out the candles they instantly relit to roars of laughter from the family. This went on for several minutes and I have never seen them laugh so hard. I am sure my face expressed my embarrassment and frustration. Finally I just grabbed the candles and dunked them in water and that was that.

As if the trick candles were not enough… Isabel offered me a piece of gum after I had eaten my piece of cake and I should have known better. Sure enough it turned my tongue black as the night. This was also hilarious to the family and I could not help but laugh at myself. Laughing at myself has become a very important part of my life.

This time of the years is also the festivals for the Virgin Guadalupe here in Baños. It is a pretty exciting time to be here. There are frequent parades and lots of fireworks throughout the days and nights. One of the traditions I participated in was the trek behind the idol of the Virgin. Each barrio (neighborhood) decorates the street with balloons and palms to welcome here.

The trek is about 10 km and the streets were filled with people. Isabel called it a “rio de gente” (river of people) and that is what it looked like. It was estimated to be about 2,000 people.

Another fun aspect of the festivals is the plaza central has tons of little tent restaurants set up. Some serve different kinds of shish kabobs (these are great!). The most common one has sausage, green pepper, onion, hot dog type meat, steak and potatoes served on a plate with it.

Other places are a little fancier and have tables to sit at where you can order the typical two course meal. It is usually soup with a side of mote (boiled corn) and the second course is rice with beans and some kind of meat. The typical soup for this festival is sheep liver, intestine and heart soup. It is not too bad but it takes some getting used to. The limes served with it definitely increase the flavor and make it much more enjoyable. It has taken some time but I am finally starting to enjoy some of the food here I did not like originally.

Several carnival games and rides are also set up in the center. The Ferris wheel looks terrifying. I am not a big fan of heights, but this Ferris wheel in particular scares me. It looks very rickety and to top it off it is set up on the side of a very large hill. My imagination ran wild and I pictured it detaching while I was riding it and rolling down the hill all the way to Cuenca. So I passed on the opportunity to ride it.

Sorry it has been so long since I last updated! I am trying to get back on regular blog schedule.

December 11-12, 2010

Sometimes in life, hard work goes unnoticed and worse, unappreciated. This weekend, that was

not the case.

We left around 11pm-ish Friday night to head to Manta for the Beach Rugby Tournament. Half of the bus belonged to us and the other half belonged to the other Cuenca rugby team. Like always, I slept for most of the ride.

Around 7 am at our hostel with a beach front view! Awesome! The weather was a little overcast and the heat of the day had not yet arrived.

While everyone got settled in I went in search of some fruit for snacks in between games. Like most things here, it turned into an adventure.. One of the Christians on the team joined me for the walk. The streets were pretty empty of cars and traffic which is not too strange for a Saturday morning. We followed the directions of walking 6 blocks and turning left away from the beach. When we did so, I found were all the people in Manta were.

The streets were lined with tent and other type of temporary store fronts selling everything. The scene reminded me a lot of the Italian market in Philadelphia but with wayyyyyy more people and cars and bicycle venders. Of course not expecting to find this treasure I did not have my camera. Within seconds we found a banana vender and then a orange vender. The orange vender tried to give us his worst oranges but we were having none of that and made him empty the bag he had filled and start over. In total I was nearly run over 6 times and most near misses were from bicyclists.

Around 10 am we all piled back into the bus to head to Tarqui beach where the tournament was being held.

The brackets were decided and one of the teams in our bracket was the Quito team that won the 7’s tournament this past weekend. It was not going to be an easy road if we were to win.

The first game we played was a bit lopsided in our favor. The next two games were barely won, by a margin of 4 points in one game and against the Quito team we won by 2.

We were all ecstatic to make it to the finals which happen the next day!

Before heading back to the hostal for some much needed food, we all went for a swim in the ocean. The water was a perfect temperature and there were some good waves. We even got to see some surfers in action.

My night was spent hanging out with some other PCVs who were in town for the weekend. We ate seafood at a beach shack and later sipped some beers on the beach.

Sunday…

The team was all warmed up and ready to go. Their energy and focus was clear, they had to win.

The Nomads are a much taller team, each one of their players had a good few inches on the players on my team. They also have a few foreigners on their team (French, English and American) who grew up with rugby.

The Nomads were the first score but they missed point after. Shortly after the Aguila’s answered back and made the extra points. 7-5

Late in the last half with the score tied 12-12 one of my players was sent to the sin bin for “being too rough” for two minutes with only a minute left. This was not good. The

Aguilas were visibly tired but needed to hang on for just another minute.

Sure enough they held out! There was some confusion on how to play out the game out. Most people wanted to do overtime/sudden death. However, the rule book states that each player on each team (only using the players that were last on the field) will have the opportunity to kick an extra point. The team who makes more of these kicks wins. Basically a hockey style shoot out. This was a surprise to everyone. But I had confidence because our best kickers were out on the field. But it was going to be tough due to the rather fast crossing wind.

The Nomads were up first and their kick was off. Christian V, was up for the Aguilas and his kick was good. The Nomads answered back with a good kick. Our next kicker missed and so did the Nomads’. Then Juan barely squeezed one through the uprights making it 2-1. The Nomads’ next kicker made it, shit, 2-2. It all came down to our last kicker Christian C. If he made this, the Aguilas would be champions. If he missed it, well, no one was really sure what would happen.

He lined up for the kick and struck the ball well sending the sand under the ball in the air. End of end the ball split the uprights. I could not believe. Christian fell to his knees and the Aguilas rushed to join him in celebration! Camera men were everywhere snapping shots, this was the moment the Aguilas had been training so hard for and it was finally here.

As each one of them received their gold Ecuadorian Olympic medal, I could see the pride in each one of their eyes.

These days, I will never forget.

December 4th, 2010

We packed the 24 passenger bus full to capacity with people and rugby gear. The excitement was evident despite it being 11pm and a 7 hour bus ride waiting for us in the near future. This was my first game with the Aguilas Rugby Club of the University of Azuay.

We finally arrived at the field in Quito at 10:30 am ready to go! Rugby is usually played with 15 people on a side; however this was a 7’s tournament. Most teams entered two teams in the tournament and so did we.

I was very nervous because this was my first game ever as a coach. The guys on the team had put in a lot of work over the last few months and I wanted it to show on the field. Sure enough it did, the first team we played suffered a 29-0 loss at the hands of the Aguilas. The rest of the day had its wins and losses for our team. Overall the Aguilas took third place which is really good! The team has only been around two years; where as some of the other teams have players who have played their whole lives.

I was proud of the guys and how they played. But I was even more proud when one of the referees came up and asked if we played a lot of 7’s. I told him we did a lot of work to prepare for this tournament and they have worked very hard. He told me the hard work showed and that the team looked much better than when he last saw them play a year ago. I felt like a proud father.

The Aguilas were happy with the day as they should have been, but it was clear that they want to win it next year!

This coming weekend we are off to Manta for a 5’s tournament on the beach. Should be interesting, because I have never seen rugby played on the sand before! Some other PCVs are coming down for the weekend as well.

Sunday December 5th, 2010

I had to leave Quito the night before to arrive in Baños in time for the inauguration of the Home for the Elderly "Dr. Luis Yunga." Brad Mattan, the previous PCV in Baños helped secure a grant which provided significant funding to this home.

The event had a large attendance and the Bishop Luis Gerardo Cabrera Herrera was there as well. Several moving speeches were given and the elderly even prepared a dance routine. The ceremony was concluded with the cementing of a cross and two doves to the top of building. I took about 200 some pictures but do to time restraints and internet connection (and your time) I have only included the top few.

Monday December 6th, 2010

Today was my first day of giving my nutrition charla to elementary school kids. The school is in the same area where Isabel has her plot of land, Nero. Don Iban was nice enough to give me a ride out to the school. He insisted that I do not wear my seatbelt. We will not need those since we are not driving in the city.

I sighed and accepted the fact that I would never feel safe in an automobile here.

We arrived at the school and I must say it was very nice. I hadn’t set my hopes to high though, because it is in an impoverished area. I spoke with the head master and he gave me a quick tour of the grounds. I was to begin with the first grade glass.

I am very happy the markers were washable. The kids had a blast drawing vegetables, fruit and what healthy person looks like. They also had a lot of fun drawing on me and my clothes.

It was interesting to see the dynamics of the class, the boys were all very involved and the girls were very shy. Some spent the entire hour just staring at the marker and paper. No matter how much I tried they would not draw anything.

The second grade class had a lot fewer kids, but was much harder to handle. They were much happier running around punching each other and drawing shapes on their faces. Some even ran out of the classroom. I had officially lost control of the class after about 5 minutes. So

I decided to try a new teaching method. No more mister nice guy. You will draw fruits and vegetables and like it! Well. I was not that harsh, but I definitely showed signs of agitation and they could sense it.

They finally listened to the frustrated gringo and sat down. Then they had some fun drawing and writing their names after awhile.

It is amazing what a one year difference can have.

Since there is no real bus system I had to hitch a ride back to Baños in a camioneta (truck). The unfortunate thing with hitching a ride is you never get exactly where you want to go. At the end of the ride I still had a good 2 mile walk.

I enjoyed it

Thanksgiving; hold the turkey

None of us had ever cooked mashed potatoes or stuffing from scratch before, but we tried it anyways. I must say, for not having a turkey, we had a pretty damn good meal. Cheese and crackers were the appetizers. Somehow guacamole made the list too (I think Julie had avocados that were going to go bad). Glazed pork roast was the protein of the meal and in my opinion was a much better and less drowsy alternative to turkey. I did not bring my camera, but I will try and get photos from others in attendance

(My neighbors have Christmas lights up, tis' the season)

Sometimes you meet people and you think to yourself “wow, that person was really nice.” And other times you meet people that make you go “holy shit, you are one fucked up person and I am definitely going to write this shit down because you sir are ridiculous.”

(Inca Lounge)

At the local watering hole I met an interesting character while waiting for friends to arrive. Now, I should probably change his name for the sake of the following information. And his name shall be, Sanders. Sanders is in his mid forty’s, divorced and has a daughter. Now, none of this really stood out, quite common in the US. It was not until he told me how he made his living for some time that I realized the can off warms that was opening before me. Now, the order of this was never entirely clear, but here goes.

He cooked and did meth in Mississippi for several years, while married to his wife of some years who had no idea about her man’s occupation. One night, apparently she got to be quite the bother. So he slipped a big old rock of meth in her coca-cola to shut her up. Sure enough she got a little freaked out and cleaned the whole house. She never found out what compelled her to do that. However, he did say he regretted it, but it was funny.

The time line got a little hard to follow after that. It was a little bit difficult to process what this complete stranger had just divulged to me.

Sanders managed to obtain a medical marijuana growing permit in Montana. Perfect candidate in the government’s eyes I guess. So that went well for awhile, growing, but he had some bills to pay. So he decided to screw selling it legally and just started dealing on the side.

And at this point I started to realize we were, in fact, actually having this conversation. Luckily my phone rang and I was able to leave the conversation and the bar. My friends were not able to make it so I hopped a bus home to process what just what happened.

During the course of the whole conversation, I also spoke with the bar owner, Mike. He is in the process of revamping a finca (farm) into a nice little country retreat for tourists. He invited me and a friend out to check the farm the next day.

Around 1pm my friend Jamie and I met up with Mike and a few of his employees to head out to the finca. We were introduced to a man I will refer to as, Captain Jack. He was an army sergeant back in the day and was in the Vietnam War. He drives a 1983 Chevrolet Jeep, not a car, he corrected me on this. He liked to brag about how it is comparable to any modern day pickup and how it could haul anything, if not more than anything than a pickup truck. I decided to keep my mouth shut and not say “I don’t think you could fit a dirt bike in here.”

(cool bug we found before heading to the Finca)

(Captain Jack)

So Jamie, Rachel, myself and Captain Jack got into his jeep to follow Mike in the other truck. Within minutes we lost the other car and Captain Jack started calling Mike for directions every few minutes. Captain Jack has lived, worked here and driven here for 14 years; you would think he would know how to get to the only national park within 15 kilometers of Cuenca. Now what was even more frustrating is he would not listen when we would say hey, Cajas is just down that road. “No, Mike said he lived on the backside of Cajas and this is how you get there.” He said several times. Mike never said that.

Meanwhile, Rachel has BEEN to the Finca twice and he ignored her polite direction suggestions. After about the fifth or so phone call (while driving a manual) we could hear Mike on the phone saying I exactly where the Finca is and Captain Jack was quick to scold Mike on not knowing how to give directions. The rest of us in the car could not help but crack smiles and shoot glances at each other trying not to break out in laughter.

We finally arrived at the Finca and it was pretty exciting to see even though the rain had begun. We were instantly greeted by the two dogs Mike inherited with the farm. The biggest of the pair was recently named General but the younger one had not been named yet.

Before Mike gave us a tour of the Finca, we tossed a case of beer in the stream to cool down because the fridge he ordered had not arrived yet.

(greeted by the general)

(as if Captain Jack was not strange enough, one of his hobbies is digging for gold. I honestly could not make this up, and I even have a picture to prove it)

(view from the back door)

(living room)

Once things got loaded in and the beds were built, Captain Jack broke out his homemade rum. For those of you who don’t know, Captain Jack is cheap rum available in the US. This homemade spiced rum was 70% and it tasted like it.

As we sat around the fire sipping river cooled beer, we all tried to avoid the rum. Captain Jack had his first glass and it was after he finished, that I had another “holy shit, you are one fucked up person and I am definitely going to write this shit down because you sir are ridiculous” moment. It was like something out of a movie. With just a drink in him, Captain Jack was back in Nam and telling us war stories. He told us about the people he met and other things most of us did not care to hear about. Then with the next glass he became an offensive old bigot, but no one said anything because he did not really understand that the things he was saying were bad. It was like when a child says a curse word, you cannot get mad at them because they have no idea of what they are actually saying.

His wife (who is Ecuadorian) called during one of his rants. We informed him that his phone was ringing. Captain Jack does not hear all that well sometimes. His response was “fuck that woman, I’ll be home when I feel like it.”

Jamie and I decided it was time for us to be heading back to Cuenca and one of Mike’s employees was ready to leave as well. Captain Jack was quick to offer us a ride and we accepted because a taxi would be around $6 (almost 2% of our month budget. Hindsight is 20/20. It began to rain. Bad sign.

As we drove down windy unlit roads in the car (sorry, Jeep) older than both Jamie and I, there were a couple of random swerves. Captain Jack played it like he was just avoiding potholes. Another clue that something was askew was when we hit a large speed bump at 20 mph sending Jamie and I airborne in the backseat (no seatbelts in the backseat, of course).

“Sorry about that fellas, didn’t see that.” He apologized

It was not until he nearly rear ended the big fucking blue bus in front of us that he explained himself after we all shouted “what the fuck?!”

“So guys, I really only have one good eye. My right eye doesn’t see all that well.

And as a result I don’t have the best depth perception”

“yeah, I’ll fucking say.” I thought to myself as I said a quick prayer.

“Just tell me if I might hit something.”

Don’t worry Captain Jack, we will.

We were close to our destination at this point, but not close enough to feel out of the shit storm that had descended upon that jeep.

I could not resist asking how that happened. Although I should have asked why the

hell he decided that kind of information was not important prior to entering his jeep.

Turns out a grenade was the cause of this partial (probably mostly) blindness.

We finally made to the city and he dropped us off. I laughed for a few minutes and then was thankful we survived. I owe the big guy for getting us through that one.

Some days we (meaning some PCVs) wake up and wonder what are we doing here and are we really making a difference? Sometimes the evidence is right there in front us and other days it all feels like a waste. So where do we find motivation to keep moving forward and not give up. For all of us this motivation is as different as the reasons we signed up for the job in the first place. Some people are affected by different types of down points and some are affected by the same down points differently.

The Peace Corps. is often described as “the hardest job you will ever love.” I agree with this statement, but then again it all depends on what day I hear it.

So how do I deal with these down moments and low points? Play guitar, call someone and bitch about it, eat more rice than any one person should eat and quests. I have been on several quests and they are the following with results…

• Find a bar to watch American Football. Status: Achieved (added bonus of steak tacos)

• See a cock fight. Status: on going

• Grow a big barbarian-esk beard. Status: still growing

• Learn Spanish. Status: estoy trabajando

• Find a good pint of beer. Status: failed (conclusion; brew my own)

• Eat street food and not regret it. Status: Achieved

So I am kind of losing focus on the blog. What do you guys want to hear about? Drop a message please! Your input is of great value to the author.

A night Bus is defined as “a large motor vehicle designed to carry passengers usally along a fixed route according to a schedule.”

The author defines a night Bus as a “a large motor vehicle designed to scare the shit out of all the passengers while traveling along whatever route (preferably with turns that require only half the wheels on the ground) works according to a pretty accurate schedule. Fully inflating wheels is optional. Bathrooms are for women only. Males should carry water bottles. Be advised, for both sexes it is highly recommended to take a few shooters of Pepto before your ride.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XghJuH6GSCo

6 am on Saturday and the alarm was blasting. I jumped out of bed and got dressed and checked to see if Clint was awake in the next room. He was, and we gathered our stuff and headed downstairs to meet Isabel and her son Edgar.

Clint is a PCV from my Omnibus (get with the lingo) who lives in Paute which is about 2 hours from Baños. He stayed in the extra bedroom so he could come along on the day’s adventure.

Edgar drove the family truck with Clint and I piled in on the same bench seating next to him which made for a cramped hour ride. Isabel and her sister road in the back of the truck (she insisted) and we picked up a few people along the way who needed a ride to the campo. And finally we arrived in Yanasacha. http://www.yanasachaweb.com/index_archivos/Page801.htm

Before we decided what we were to do, we ate a nice big breakfast of eggs, grilled cheese, toast with jam, yogurt (fresh from their cows!) and coffee. Once we were all fat and happy we came to a conclusion to ride horses to the lake and spend the day trout fishing. Perfect!

We went through a very brief instruction on how to ride a horse because all of us had ridden before. We then were all handed a horse and got on. However we mounted the horse from its right side and I always remembered getting on from the other side so it felt funny to me.

(My horse)

We rode up a very rocky road that the horses could not wait to get off of. Whenever they spotted a nice little patch of grass or dirt to walk on they would veer towards it to take a break from slipping and sliding on large lose rocks. I felt bad for mine since he had trouble getting traction on the rocks and so I just let him do whatever he wanted. He knew where we were going and I did not (equestrian autopilot). So I let him steer and I just checked out the great views and smelled the fresh air.

It is moments like this (engage hippie Peace Corps. mode) that make me wonder why people spend so much time hating and killing each other over trivial crap. As I was riding the horse letting him go its course while I just looked at the scenery I realized something. This is a metaphor for life in its most simplistic form. You can spend all this time and effort trying to control every little thing and miss all the great things around you. Just let it be and enjoy the ride.

This message has been said by many people, but it is nice to really realize it every once and awhile for yourself.

The four horsemen and their guide arrived at their destination and two of the horsemen were a little disappointed with the size of the lake. But that feeling did not last for long.

The fish were jumping out of the lake! I could see tons of ripples from the fish eating bugs and we all got really excited! Our guide started to ready our rods and lures and all I could think about was this one rule I learned about fishing when I was a boy.

“Now remember kids, what is the first rule of fishing?” Uncle Frank would always say.

“Don’t hook uncle Frank.” We would all shout back in unison.

The rods were ready and we were off to the races! Clint, Edgar and I made a bet that whoever caught the largest fish would win a free drink from the others. I was just hoping to catch a fish I could eat, but it is always nice to drink on someone else’s dollar.

After only a few minutes and several cast, bam! Fish on! It was a battle for the ages that only last about 15 seconds, top. Turned out to be the biggest fish of the day! I caught two, as did Clint but Edgar caught eight!

After many hours of sipping warm cannelasa (not sure on how it is spelled but it contains sugar cane alcohol and is served warm) and fishing we called it a day and headed back to the lodge to feast on barbequed meat and some of our freshly caught trout.

We ate our big feast of a lunch and we all agreed that it was in our best interest to utilize the hammocks for a good half hour nap.

For the ride back, Clint and I sat in the back of the pickup sipping some more cannelasa celebrating a good haul of fish and a good day.

Now, not every day of my PC life is spent fishing, riding horses and sipping drinks in the mountains. I do actually “work.”

I found an article online about the rugby team I am currently coaching. The team used to use coconuts to train because they did not have funds to buy actual rugby balls. Does this not sound like the making of an underdog movie, or what? From coconuts to World Cups: the story of Tristan and his Ecuadorian Journey. (Name by Joe Finch)

The guys are great to work with and eager to learn more about the game. However the practice conditions are not the best. We practice on a very small soccer under poor street lighting from 10pm to 12am. Luckily there is a Sunday morning practice which more people show up to supposedly. From what I have learned only about 10 people show up to these weekday practices. Which is also not ideal, because you need 15 people to field a team, and ideally more for practices. Hopefully in time this will change.

This past Saturday I accompanied Isabel and her sister to Nero. Nero is west of where we live by about 10 kilometers or so. The drive is very pretty but was made less enjoyable by the conditions in which we traveled. At 6am we hopped in the back of pickup truck that was already mostly full of empty steal milk containers. As we drove we collected a few more people and we were all reduced to standing. Which normally is not too bad but it was very cold with the wind and I was very underdressed. After about 40 minutes we arrived at a cross road where we got off.

We then proceeded to walk up the road and arrived at a small dairy farm. We greeted the owner and his family and then ducked under a barbed wire fence which contained several young calves and two very dirty pigs. We continued to walk and arrived at a small thicket where we followed a man made stream. All of sudden out of the bush bounding towards us came, Pelusa.

Pelusa is the dog of Isabel’s sister, who lives at their field. She is an energetic little dog who seems to love everything and anyone. It reminded me of how much I miss my dogs back home and we quickly became friends. We all headed down the hill to where several cows were attached to leashes staked in the ground. Pelusa ran towards the one calf and attempted to play. The calf, showing its age got very upset, bellowed and tripped over the legs it was still not used to.

Isabel’s sister let the calf lose for some reason and of course it ran right to its mother to feed. Coincidently, it was the same cow she was trying to milk. After I snapped a few pictures of this I helped her yank the little guy off, not an easy task. The whole process was pretty funny, Pelusa even tried to help by running in circles around us and getting underfoot.

The next few hours for me were just spent wondering around and taking pictures. Eventually it was time to start cooking lunch. We built a fire in a small little wooden shack (Smokey the Bear would not have approved of this) and started boiling potatoes. Once they were done cooking Isabel put a metal rack over the fire to barbeque the chicken, absolutely fantastic.

(The hat is not mine)

Pelusa ate all of our scraps and chicken bones. I explained to them that it is not good for dogs to eat chicken bones because they can splinter and the dog can choke to death. They laughed at this and explained that this is a

“perrito del campo.” Which basically means this dog is a hard as a coffin nail. Pelusa would chomp through the bones and swallow them with no problems. I was impressed; my wussy beagle back home would probably choke within seconds of receiving a discarded chicken bone.

No offense Molly, you know I love you but this dog is way more bad-ass than you.

After lunch we cleaned up a bit and complained about the intense sun. Isabel and I spent some time picking radishes and cleaning them up for market. After this she went back to futzing with her potatoes and I camped out with a book to read while waiting for our ride to arrive.

It was very relaxing to hang out there in the fresh air hearing no manmade noises.

A gringo is defined as “often disparaging: a foreigner in Spain or Latin America especially when English or American origen.” – Webster

A gringo more affectionately refers to the goofy bearded white kid living in the attic of Spanish or Latin American family, especially when he does something dumb or tries to explain his weird alien customs.

Gringos make for interesting and entertaining pets. They pay you to live in your house and are usually very neat. On the rare occasions a gringo might even cook some traditional meals from his country, however the meals are not very good and that is because he “couldn’t find the right ingredients and it usually tastes much better.”

While living with gringos you must keep in mind several things and gringo proof your house. Gringos have sensitive stomachs (and emotions, more on that later) and there for must choose their water sources carefully. Gringos usually refrigerate most items and can be very picky about what they eat. So if you do not refrigerate the past day’s food, try to keep it out of the direct line of site. Gringos are not all that observant for the most part.

Gringos loveeeee privacy and will require curtains for their windows.

Gringos are great pets and make a great addition to any Spanish or Latin American family.

Gringos also love self pictures

When music hits you, you feel no pain. However, when you are sitting in a chair and feel something flair. Diarrhea. Diarrhea. Goes the tune.

So when the shit hits the fan, do not panic. This will only make a shitty situation, well, shittier. Getting the point of this entry yet?

Luckily Isabel is the shit and helps out the sick gringo living in the attic of her house. For this illness she took me into the garden to collect some herbs to make a tea. She handed me a canella flower and the root of onion, and we headed back inside. Interesting combination, I thought as I wondered about the taste of this particular tea.

She put on a small pot of water and waited for it to boil before turning off the burner and adding the ingredients. Once it cooled, I was allowed to drink the oniony concoction and then promptly went to bed. The next morning I awoke bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to take on the world.

Another interesting discovery was recently found by another volunteer and brought to my attention by another PCV. When you yawn, it does not signify that you are tired. It means you are hungry. I never put two and two together until this point. I have been randomly asked if I was hungry, but never thought it was because I yawned. It is better than being asked if I am tired, plus I am always hungry.

So a week ago I tried to explain to Isabel why I did not want to drink coffee at 11pm. I informed her that it keeps me awake. She found this to be really funny and in fact a bull shit excuse for not drinking coffee. Now a few days later I had coffee and humitas http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humita with Isabel and her uncle. She told him this hilarious story about me and my unique problem with coffee. He found it just as funny and my explanation of caffeine was not effective. Frustration ensued and I ate my humitas quietly.

Saturday the 16th of October

Today Clint and I went to meet the Scout group as per usual. However, today was different. It was field trip day! Destination, unknown. We arrived at a government building and the Scouts attire was looked over and approved. Shit needed to be in order and tucked in. When it came time to inspect Clint and I they just walked on. I had on a dirty shirt and grass stained jeans, no hope.

We walked in to a very nice reception room where on the stage some Scouts set up guitars, drum machines, microphones and a bass. Ok, looks like we might get some live music! Sure enough they played a couple songs throughout the ceremony honoring certain Scouts. It appeared that some had deserved the privilege of becoming a higher rank and that was the point of this trip.

Clint and I have also agreed to teach 30 minutes of English to the Scouts every Saturday. So we need to get a lesson plan (general) together pretty quick.

Later in the night I while drinking a beer at a bar I was approached by guy who asked me if I play rugby. I asked why, and he pointed out the fact that I was wearing Scotland’s rugby polo. Yeah, I did play for a bit in high school and college.

He asked me to join him and his teammates for a drink. From what I gathered it seems they do not know a lot and there coach just quit. So they want someone to help run practices and get them ready for a tournament in December. I told them I not a great player but I will try my best to help them out. I will be at their practice next Sunday to help out.

Sunday

Today I felt guilty for finding the following situation funny, but I did not laugh out loud. Whilst at a barbeque lunch at the neighbors I noticed the little 4 year old cousin mildly harassing a bunch of very small baby chicks. Then all of sudden mama chicken sees this and does not approve. The bird runs full speed to the sitting girl and drills her right in the head with its head. BOOM! The girl goes over backwards and is reduced to screams and tears for her mama.

Mom told her that there is no need to worry. That next weekend they will kill and eat the bad mama chicken. This made the girl stop crying and she smiled a little. I hope I am invited to that dinner too!

Websters’ defines homesickness as “longing for home and family while absent from them.”

Tristan defines homesickness as “longing for Creedence Clearwater Rival at full volume, family parties, friends, Yuengling and pizza, Phillies, Eagles and of course WaWa.”

To overcome this occupational hazard, the author employees many age old tactics. Firstly he combats this disease (which is almost as deadly as RLS, which the author most definitely has as well http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/restless%20legs%20syndrome) with writing this blog, so thanks for reading it! Secondly, he has an American flag hanging proudly in his bedroom window. Thirdly, he hears updates about the hit show Jersey Shore, and is glad he is on the other side of the world from that over-gelled mess.

The Author’s mind is also worried about culture shock. Defined by Webster as “a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation.”

Eh, that is a pretty good description.

Tristan’s definition is similar. “A sense of confusion for paying more than a $1.50 for a 22 oz. beer at a bar and a state of uncertainty on deciding whether to go to either Pat’s or Geno’s for a cheesesteak upon returning from Ecuador.”

I heard somewhere catchy titles get people to read things they normally would not. Hope it worked!

October 1st, not my average Friday night

The previous night at my house, while I was stuck inside my house because of the coup, there was an hour long religious ceremony in our living room. There was lots of candles, insense and a 2 foot tall statue of Jesus in a glass box. I asked what it was for, but I did not understand the answer and so it remains a mystery to me.

Tonight, I was called down from my room by Isabel for another ceremony. Had I known there was going to be another ceremony I would not have drank those three beers… This time when I got to the living room there was no one there. Needless to say I was confused, then Isabel handed me a chair and told me to go next door.

There is a passage way between our house and the restaurant Isabel is building next door. I never knew it was there until today, amazing. So I carry the chair into the unfinished cement building expecting to find the same 10 people from last night. Nope, there were about 40 people and several women had beautiful rose bouquets resting at their feet. I promptly set the chair down and continued to make myself useful by passing out bread to everyone while they awaited their coffee.

The same religious leader (not sure of his title) from the night before read a few passages and then everyone grabbed a candle and went outside. Four people, Isabel being one of them, picked up the statue that now was sitting on top of a wooden pallet with four horizontal poles coming out of it to rest on the carriers’ shoulders. It looked rather heavy.

With my candle in hand we began walking the wrong way up a one way road up the hill towards the Church (the blue one from my pictures). We were followed by a beat up pickup truck with the religious leader singing over a homemade loud speaker system attached to the truck.

We were no more than 30 yards from the church when Isabel asked me to take over for her. Of course I would, besides we are so close. The procession proceeded down the road past the church to where the paved road and street lights end. Oh crap.

There is no moon on this night so it is exceptionally dark however, the stars are plenty! I asked the man who was on the other side of the wooden contraption where we were going. He mentioned some town I have never heard of. I then asked how far. He said with a smile 4-5 kilometers. Oh man, my shoulders are going to hurt tomorrow.

While we were marching up the road, there were many bottle rockets being fired into the sky from field all around us. I finally spotted the person responsible. It was this little old man who would sneak off from the group every once and while and set a few off.

After what seemed forever we finally made it to a small chapel in the middle of nowhere. We sat through a long ceremony and I was thoroughly lost as to what this was all about, but I enjoyed the experience.

This is for my uncle Steve. Do you know what they use to make horseshoes here? Rebar. Thought you might get a kick out of that.

Brewing operations have been delayed yet again. Someday, I hope.

The owner of the tienda I always buy my snacks and beer from has a bi-polar owner. Some days he is really excited to see me and we chat for awhile. Other days he is a little cold and gives me weird looks when I try to strike up a conversation.

Today when I walked to the tienda I saw him showing off one of his fighting cocks to some people and then out walked his look alike brother. Fuck me, that explained a lot. I guess I have become that weird volunteer that talks to everyone. I then walk up to greet them both and to figure out which one actually likes talking to me. He was the one with the rooster.

Luckily this rooster is not as aggressive as El Capitan. I was able to pet it and feel how sharp his spurs are. Jaime invited me to come with him some Sunday to check out the fights. An offer I will definitely take him up on.

As we were talking a pick up rolled up on the sidewalk behind me, but I paid it no attention. A lot of people park their cars on the side walk on this street. However I spun around when I heard an ogre behind me! In the bed of this small pickup truck not more than two feet behind me were three enormous pigs. They we not happy about being tied up in the bed of the truck and were making their current emotions known.

I then thought of how I could make a three little pigs joke but thankfully my mouth did not listen. I doubt they know that children’s tale and if I said it I would have had to explain it. Effort. Sometimes I do not put that word into my daily activities, and today was one of those days. So instead I bought beer and had a lovely happy hour playing tunes on my guitar. Ah, Peace Corps.

Wednesday, First day of my class

This morning Estella and I discussed the presentation I will give next week concerning the bench/tree project. The project has gone from a couple hundred dollars to around four thousand in the past few weeks. I hope it gets approved! We also discussed the trash project. There are some meetings scheduled next week to talk to the big players in town about what to with their trash. From there, we will reach out to the rest of the people.

We then started talking about the town dogs. Some have owners and some do not. Well, those are the only two options, obviously. I did my best to explain leash laws, collars with names/addresses and the concept of a dog pound/catcher. She liked the idea but thinks some of them will never happen. We agreed that I should go ahead with researching it and doing a feasibility study.

Then it was time to call the people who said they would attend my super-fantastic-informative marketing class. Not one person of the twenty answered. Given it was around lunch time, but still. This got me worried that I would have similar experiences other PCVs have had when they give their first class; a big goose egg for the number of people in attendance.

I ran from the Junta to the class room down the hill in the pouring rain with my laptop and their projector and still managed to get totally soaked. So now I smell like a wet dog and look like one. When I arrived at the Community center I was given a janitor’s size key ring to figure out which key would open the classroom. After going through every key, I used a trick I learned back in my college years. I whipped out my handy-dandy Red Cross card, slid it through the door crack and turned the knob. Abra kadabra, the door opened.

I would not have done this is anyone was around. I would not want them to think I have had a questionable or shady past life as a thief. However, I could tell them without lying that I learned that trick from a successful entrepreneur and one of my closest friends. There is need for anyone to know it was Tim who taught me the trick.

I tried every outlet in the joint and not one functioned. Shit. Game time decision. I would have to use my laptop screen for the PowerPoint. Great, only 40 minute left on my computer battery. With some time to kill, I went to purchase an ice cream bar to clear my thoughts and get ready to teach my first class in Spanish, and in general.

4:15pm three women show up for my class. I was a little surprised, considering it was still raining. One of the women works for herself, another works at a local hostel and the last one is currently looking for work.

The class went pretty well all things considered. I was also informed by one of the students how to make the outlets work at the end of my class. Thank goodness because she said 20 people are coming to my next class…

COUP

Walking down my street back from the Junta seeing kids playing in the street and towns people going out there daily business was strange site today. Their president had just been attacked by the national police because he cut their benefits in half and stopped promotions. Quito, the capital is in complete anarchy along with several other cities. I have yet to see the news, but when I got to my local tienda to get supplies, I saw the news. Chaos, tear gas and tire fires were all I saw. The tienda owner suggested I buy a few beers and get drunk and lay low. I heeded his wise advice and loaded my bag with Doritos and beers. He also told me a Co-op bank down the road was robbed, along with a hardware store. Well, I guess my sleepy town did not want to miss out on the lack of police either.

Later in the day I would peak out my windows expecting rioters with pitchforks. Thank god there were none, just some kids playing on push carts. Much safer. As the day carried on, the situation seemed to get worse and worse. I got word that the airports were taken over by the striking police (what is our exit strategy now?).

9pm there was a shoot out outside of the hospital the president was held up in between police and the striking police. Details are confusing, hard to tell what is real and what is not. What I do know is that the Peace Corps. was on top of this and had every PCV accounted for very quickly and has been giving us updates and instructions. I feel very comfortable with their efforts to keep us safe.

Friday, Day two

I woke up to read the news on CNN and found this “After the meeting [of Latin American Leaders] Chavez accused the U.S of being behind the unrest in Ecuador. ‘The Yankee extreme right is trying right now, through arms and violence, to retake control of the continent,’ Chavez said.”

Now I am little worried seeing as I am American as it gets and I have a big American flag hanging in my window. We have been ordered by the PC to stay in our sites “until the end of the ‘Estado de Exception’ which at this moment is set for a one-week period.”

My bottle of Johnnie Walker is running low and they do not sell it in my site. Sigh.

On a completely unrelated note, I enjoy the sound of the rain on my metal roof.

Lastly, I am in a need of some new songs to learn on my guitar. Please, post suggestions!

Friday, What a Day!

I got the phone number for a man I wanted to speak with in Cuenca. I was scared my poor Spanish would make me sound dumb and there for not useful. I was definitely a little nervous about talking to other people and calling some that I do not know to talk business; this was different. But after a week I manned up and gave Pedro a call yesterday. He owns the only brew pub in Cuenca.

We scheduled the meeting for today at 5pm at the brew pub, of course. I show up a bit early, and ask if they have any of their three microbrews on tap. “no.” This is the third week in a row they have not had their own stuff and one of the questions I had for Pedro.

I was not sure what kind of person Pedro would be like. He is a taller guy, mid thirties maybe, wearing stylish clothes and a taste for Marlboros. He walked in, greeted me and passed a $5 bill to the bartender who ran out of the pub and was back in seconds with a pack of Marlboro Reds. He looked at me and asked me to talk about what my idea. He then had the same bartender get him a beer.

I told him that I wanted to learn to brew beer in large quantities and that I brewed back home. In exchange for that I could help him a little with the business. I told him that I am a PCV living in Baños working with the Padre and Junta. I told him I would be here two years and wanted a place to go to have a good beer.

He took a long drag way past the point that most people smoke on a cigarette and then snubbed it out. He then leaned back from the ashtray on the bar, looked at me and more or less said “ok.” I was dumbfounded. That was too easy. I thought I would have to put up a fight, give more reasons or even beg. Well great that I did not have to beg.

“So why no beer?”

Apparently his malted barley and other grains are from Argentina and apparently they do not rush things and take their time shipping. This did not seem to faze Pedro at all. Then I realized this is probably his side project business, he clearly has money and this place is not making much. He did not seem concerned at all that he has to wait another two weeks for his key ingredients and that there is no rush to make a new batch. He orders his hops from Washington State. He said he is unable to brew beer during their winter because he cannot get hops. There have to be other places to get hops; in fact I know there are. Perhaps I can be useful after all.

After awhile of just hanging out talking about this and that I excused myself to meet up with friends. I asked him when I should give a call about the next batch and we set a rough date to brew. I plan on calling a few days early just in case.

I left feeling pretty good and then realized I do not know any of the brewing terms in Spanish. I need to put together a list of useful words and phrases I thought to myself as I went to meet up with Clint and Mitch for a beer.

A little later we went to meet up with Sonya, another volunteer at her friend’s house. We were told buy some at the bar the place were walking to was only 15 min away. Well it is not, it is like an hour walk. So we got a cab halfway. Have not gotten reliable directions here yet, we must be asking the wrong questions.

We met Sonya and her friend Carlos at his house and then promptly went out to solve his lack of beer problem. Mitch, Clint and I went to grab pizza from a nearby place. As it just so happens it was the pizza we have had here. I was a big fan of the ham, pineapple and peach one especially. After some beers and talking I feel like bed. Then around 11-ish Sonya suggests we go to a dance club. We all agreed, at least if we did not feel like it our hostel is only a block away.

There was a three dollar cover charge at the dance club! No matter we all went in. We stayed for an hour or two in a very overcrowded club. It felt like I was in a small closet with 300 people, we were not really dancing. From above we probably just looked like cells under a microscope bumping into each other.

We pulled the plug around one and we walked to our hostel. It was a nice sleep for me, because the hostel is much warmer than my attic room in Baños. It was a nice change to get out of bed and not be cold.

Saturday

I walked around with Clint for awhile because Mitch had to split off to buy a new cell phone. So we thought about seeing a movie in theatres. Nothing peaked our interest but at least we now know where the movie theatre is. Clint decided to go home and leave me to my shopping. I was in need of hot sauce, instant coffee and some other random stuff for the kitchen. I think I got Rosa hooked on the sauce, she puts it on everything. Luckily she does so sparingly.

My day was made complete when I came home and found Edgar watching WWF dubbed over in Spanish drinking a Budwieser. We said hola and he told me that there is fried chicken in the kitchen and to grad a beer from the fridge. Wow, not what I was expecting but a welcome surprise none the less. After WWF we watched the new Bruce Willis film Cop Out and laughed the whole time. I retired to my room to read Brewing Up a Business by Sam Calagione, the owner of Dogfish Head Craft Brewery. It felt like an appropriate time to start up a book I had been anticipating to read since my friend Tim gave it to me. So far so good! But man it makes me miss a good beer.

Monday September 20th-Thursday September 23rd.

I now go to the Junta Parochial every day to talk to people about the many projects I have in the works. A newer project is designing pamphlets about not littering; a large problem in my community.

My tree planting project has expanded to putting in small stone walls around the trees and benches. It is really nice to see the enthusiasm the project gets from people when I explain it.

I have met with different people about supplies and architects to get all the pricing in order. Everyone is very eager to help because they know this project benefits the whole community. The man who supplies the volcanic rock is willing to donate all the rock we need for free if we get him the permit from the municipality to mine more of it.

Cold calls in Spanish are not something I enjoy doing. Then again, does anyone enjoy cold calling? I was trying to get people to sign up for the marketing class I am going to start teaching next week. I definitely confused a lot of people; luckily Estella from the Junta was there to bail me out when she heard the confusion on the line. Overall, it looks like I will have a class of 15 starting next Wednesday!

Thursday the volunteers in the immediate Cuenca area had a very unique opportunity to have coffee with US Ambassador to Ecuador, Heather Hodges. She was great to talk to and was generally interested in our projects and what our experiences have been thus far. She says she enjoys here work here; however the red tape she has to cut through to get stuff is frustrating at times. I feel very comfortable knowing she is keeping a watchful on the Peace Corps. and its volunteers.

Saturday September 11th

There was a front page article in the Cuenca paper about mourners gathering at ground zero in New York today. It was well written and sympathetic from what I understood.

Later that day I met up with Clint, a PCV who lives an hour outside of Cuenca, to go with the Scouts to an orphanage. As it turns out there was a kink in the plan and we ended up not going to the orphanage. Instead we played a few games and helped brainstorm community service projects and fundraising ideas for the Scouts.

After the meeting Clint and I met up with two other PCVs, Jaime and Miguel(PC loves acronyms) at the Cuenca house. Some family apparently has extra space in their house and likes volunteers. So the deal is we get a bed, clean sheets, a key to the house all for the shockingly low price of $3.50. Most hostels cost at least $10 a night.

So the four of us went out to grab a few drinks a play some good old Texas hold’em. The buy in was a dollar, and Clint who has the least card experience of us all walked away with the big pot of $4. Later on in the night we stopped by a club to dance, but only stayed for a few minutes as we were all tired.

Sunday September 12, 2010

Ceviche for breakfast! For those readers who missed that blog I shall explain. Ceviche is a delicious seafood soup with a base of citrus juice (orange and lime), tomatoes and onions. Serve that up with a little hot sauce, of course rice, and some fried plantains all for a $1.50. Perfect PC breakfast.

Since I do not get much in the way of dairy products in my diet I treated myself to an Oreo milkshake for lunch. I am glad I did, it was perfect. I really dislike the feeling of having a craving for food, getting it, and then being disappointed because it is not up to par.

Today was our cluster picnic/meet and great. A cluster is the volunteers who live within 5 hours by bus from a major city, more or less. So in my cluster there is about 10 PCVs. Most of us met in Parque Calderon, which is in the center of Cuenca to catch a pick up to the park.

I must say I was pleasantly surprised by the park. It had multiple full sized futbol fields (do not call it soccer) volley ball courts, basketball courts, a surplus of benches, vendors, wild dogs, domesticated dogs, a few undomesticated PCVs, paddle boats, a pond for the paddle boats and a very long line for the boats and an even longer sentence to explain it.

We talked about our sites and hometowns and crazy stories. After awhile I was overcome by the urge to pass out and did just that. Not from a lack of interest in the conversations, but just because. There is something serene about sleeping in the grass on a warm day.

So after an all day event of snacking on homemade cookies, cheese, crackers and salami we were hungry for dinner. To me this was a good sign that I am still the same person I was in the US. So we walked west towards the city and stopped at the Mexican place I had been to the week prior.

After my burrito, guacamole and salsa I was ready to be in my bed to commence my food coma. However I had a thought, brief and fleeting as most of mine are. Are there buses to my site at this time of night on a Sunday? It is only 8pm, there should be. If I had an Iphone I would have know that there were not. But I do not own one, so hear is a quick story.

I get to the bus stop and see two women waiting which was a good sign so I thought. After about 20 minutes a beat up looking white station wagon rolls up stops and out comes an off duty mall Santa. This guy was a spitting image of Father Christmas. He asked the ladies “taxi?” He looked at me and asked the same. I wish my Spanish was better because I would have asked him what would he say if he was in my shoes. But alas my language ability is not there yet and I simply said “no gracias.”

Being a gringo sucks because you attract unwanted attention. Being me can be a pain because I have a bum magnet. They pick me out and talk to me, just me, even when I am in a crowd of people.

He then proceeded to tell me in broken English that my Spanish was very good. I thought to myself for a second. I said two words, one of which is an English word as well so I really only said one. And gracias might as well be English. Sir you need to work on flattery skills because as of now I am still not riding in your busted vehicle with you behind the wheel.

Shit. I paused too long. I was then told his life story. He lived all over the US, Chicago, New York and L.A. However provided little details, so I figured he was bull-shiting me. So I told him I lived in Tokyo for most of my life and practiced Kung Fu as child. At least it passed some time, about 40 minutes or so. I also figured if potential muggers saw me talking to this guy, they would not even bother with us and move on to look for people who might actually have something worth stealing.

At this point it was getting late and my poor diet was catching up with me and consuming my patience. So I went to hail a legit taxi. I felt rude, but when it comes to my safety I do not mind be a little bit of an asshole. He asked me why I do not let him take me. I told him it is illegal for me as an employee of my company to take an illegal cab. That answer was good enough and I hailed a cab and was in Baños and in my baño in no time. Worth the $4.

11:38pm, just fallen asleep. Nuclear sirens! What the fuck?! This was a scene straight out of an old war movie combined with a comedy. I jumped out of bed fumbled in the dark for my pants, shirt and started down the stairs trying to get dressed in one motion. My brothers saw this and just laughed at me. I am glad that clumsy is funny worldwide.

When we got outside most houses in my hood had people outside not looking overly concerned. I asked Pablo what all this was about. Apparently if there are thieves, riots or some kind of crime going on they “sound the alarm.”

After 10 minutes of nothing, everyone seems satisfied and head inside.

Sleep.

The rest of the week September something to today,

I realized my blog entries have become a bit repetitive and thought I would spice them up a little bit.

So here is a list of likes and dislikes and whatever else.

1. Rice, I am glad I like it. I know I have said it before, but it is a sanity saving factor.

2. Dislike that the V button on my keyboard is not functioning as well as before.

3. Dislike the lack of beer variety here, but like that I can get a G&T for $1.50 at the places I frequent on my weekend getaways.

4. I am not a big fan of the intimidating barking dogs on this one road in my town. But it is a good substitute for the instant coffee. (Rabies shots are up to date)

5. Glad I brought my guitar.

6. I like my town, but not the random fireworks at odd hours of the night.

7. I like that most of the veggies I eat are grown out back behind our house by Rosa (the grandmother)

8. I had cuy Tuesday and the experience was much more enjoyable this time around. Also, I was extremely hungry.

9. DVDs cost a dollar fifty! Not that I buy them… because that would be a violation of copyright laws.

10. The Coca Cola is way better here because it is made with real sugar!

11. Ice cream has made its way into my diet more so than back in the states and I am ok with that.

12. Dislike the way my jeans are too big. A problem some Americans pay to have.

13. Dislike that someone or group repainted the futbol field before I could.

14. Happy it got painted though!

15. I like that so many people read my blog and give me feedback and questions. Thanks everyone!

16. Like that my Spanish skills are improving and that my mistakes are still funny.

17. Like the updates Nanny and Pops!

The 6th, a Monday (let me redo this one with a little more information)

Today I had my long awaited meeting with Estella from the Junta Parochial. We discussed the plan for the marketing class and decided that next week it will begin. 11 classes in 11 weeks and each class will be about 2 hours. We decided that tomorrow we would go to all the local businesses to see if there was an interest.

I also mentioned the Scout troop I met had some interest in doing some projects here in Baños. She was very excited and asked if they would come clean all the trash in the streets once a week. I explained that they probably would not have an interest in that. Instead, that they would prefer projects that can be done in a few hours and require only one trip. For instance, repainting the lines on the basketball/futbol court (which is cement). She liked this idea and asked me to find out how much the project would cost and then she would present it to the board for approval.

Cool, left the meeting feeling pretty good. Spent the rest of the day reading and writing the previous blog. Also Skype chatted with the family. They told me of all the wondrous steaks, pizzas and beer they have had recently. Thanks guys.

A rainy Tuesday in Baños

Woke up to loud rain hitting a metal roof.

I arrived at the Junta at 9am (well, more like 9:15ish) for the meeting. Turns out there was some other event going on and I have no idea what it was. It was just a big line of people. I inquired what the line was for and received an answer that I did not understand. So I nodded and asked if tomorrow might be better. I was told tomorrow afternoon would work perfect.

More rain.

Lunch was a repeat of yesterday’s veggie soup. I decided to be semi creative and threw some parmesan cheese in it that was leftover from Friday. I also added hot sauce, but that is pretty much a given.

Just hung around and played guitar until 2pm when my next meeting was. This one was with a group of teachers and local movers and shakers that the previous volunteer helped organize. I got to the meeting spot and found no one. So I walked to the Iban’s store to see what happened.

Iban owns the local photo, fax and any other miscellaneous electronic item shop. He is also the tech guy for the Junta.

He told me that the meeting had been moved to next week because school started this week and things are hectic. Or, at least that is what it sounded like. He then asked me if I had some time to help him with a problem. I tried not to look too excited, I needed to do something!

At first it seemed like he wanted me to smuggle in a DVD copier machine from the US. Then after some more questions on my part I figured out he only wanted help ordering it from the US. He showed me the website and it was some place in Manhattan. He wanted to know if they ship to Ecuador, how much and all the other normal things.

The device itself cost around $230, but shipping cost $140. Seemed like an expensive purchase. I then had to talk with UPS to see where in Ecuador they could be delivered to but got no answer.

So then he asked if I could come back tomorrow to help order them. Sure!

It is fun waking up, having a schedule and knowing that it is all going to change.

Wednesday

I spent the first part of today walking around the town trying to generate some interest in my marketing class with Estella, from the Junta. We got a lot of interest, which was a relief to me. While walking I asked her about another project.

I want to create a proposal for the Junta to purchase metal trashcans to place throughout Baños. Hopefully this project would cut down on the amount of trash in the streets, and there for get rid of some of the street dogs that rely on this trash for food. Along with the trashcans I want to have signs made that say something like “Help keep Baños clean” to put on the trashcans.

Estella also asked me to draw up another proposal to buy some trees to plant in by the soccer field. I really liked the idea. As of now there is no shade anywhere. There are just these little shrubs that get planted every year. What is the opposite of a perennial, anyone?

After dinner, Pablo, the older brother asked me I could show him some stuff on guitar. I brought my guitar downstairs and he did the same. We spent a good hour just talking and playing music. He started to teach me a few songs in Spanish and I showed him some in English.

Afterwards I went with Isabel to the town center (next to the church) for some fireworks. Baños is in festival right now, which means there is something going every day. The fireworks were pretty cool, similar idea to the ones in Cayambe, except there was no Vaca Loca.

Thursday

Today I went into town to buy a few things I needed and some others that I wanted. I got 4 DVDs for $5 (wanted). Then I walked around trying to find a store that sold large trashcans to get prices for my proposal. My efforts were fruitless. Oh well.

So then I ambled on over to the super market to buy ingredients for pizza making tomorrow! The rest of the day I played guitar and caught up on world news.

There was also a rock concert going on that I had to listen to until about 2am, from my room. It was pretty terrible punk rock. I am just glad my current residence is not any closer to the square. Wow, I sound really old writing that. Kids and their loud music! Yarg, insert more old man rambling here.

Friday

Woke up early, I needed to start getting my PowerPoint ready for my first class as a teacher next week. I had to translate the slides I made into Spanish and start writing a basic script. That took awhile, but the subject is fun for me. Marketing is a fun topic I think, much more so than any engineering class I would dare say.

I could not wait to make pizza. I kept bugging Isabel asking her when she would be ready to start. She likes to see how I cook and writes down the recipes.

Finally around 5ish we started making the dough.

Ingredients

• 1 ½ cup slightly warm (85-90 degrees) water (don’t kill the yeast)

• 1 tsp yeast

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 6 tablespoon olive oil

• 4 ½ cups flour (1/2 whole wheat if you like)

Directions

Place water and yeast in a large bowl and stir until dissolved. Add the salt and 6 tablespoon olive oil and mix well to combine. Add 1 cup of the flour and mix with a wooden spoon until it becomes a loose batter. Add more cups of the flour and stir for 2 to 3 minutes, incorporating as much flour as you can with the wooden spoon.

Bring the dough together by hand and turn out onto a hard clean surface. Knead for 6 to 8 minutes, until dough is smooth and firm. Place in a clean, lightly-oiled bowl, using remaining tablespoon of oil and cover with a towel. Let rise in the warmest part of the kitchen for 45 minutes (if you can stand waiting that long).

You can put in refrigerator and use within a few days or even freeze.

For individual pizzas or calzones, cut the dough into 4 equal pieces and knead into rounds. For one large pizza, knead into 1 large round. For either, let rest for 15 minutes.

Top with anything you like or just olive oil and salt.

Bake in a hot oven (400-450 degrees F (about 200C)) for about 10 minutes depending on how much stuff you put on top!

Recipe provided by Pt Schreck the famous painter (lesser known as my mother)

We topped our pizza with parmesan, mozzarella, Portobello mushrooms (love’em), pepperoni, broccoli and onions. The two pizzas we made came out great! We even have leftovers for lunch tomorrow!

PS Dear parental units, this is a reminder to tape the Eagle’s game Sunday. Thanks!

Sorry no pictures of the pizza. I guess I accidently deleted them while transfering them. Ugh, next time!

What are the sanitary conditions like? Running water/indoor plumbing? How’s power there available and always on?

These are some frequent questions I have received and will now address. Sanitary conditions are pretty good here (in my house). Most houses in my community have running water and indoor plumbing (don’t flush the TP!) and electricity. Power has yet to go out, that I have noticed. However it is the dry season, despite that, it still rains about twice a week. But because it is the “dry” season every once and a while the water is turned off for conservation. The time varies from 2 hours to a day and I have to figure out how they pick the times to turn it off, it is never the same.

About a mile or so up the road (where I went for the walk in the previous entry) cell reception is spotty at best and the toilets are mostly in an outhouse out back.

My host family always has some kind of soup for lunch. Sometimes we have a second dish that always has rice and some kind of meat (canned tuna, chicken, beef, some things I am not sure of).

My favorite soup is Chicken Soup and vegetables – Sopa de pollo y verduras. It is my favorite because it has lots of veggies, something my diet here could always use more of.

Put chicken parts in a pot of water with a little bit of salt and sliced up carrots. Bring this to a boil.

After 20 minutes add chopped potatoes.

After 30 minutes add peas and broccoli and any other veggies.

Stop after 40 mins. Let sit for a minute and enjoy

Super simple recipe and it can easily be jazzed up more if the chef feels like it.

Friday September 3rd, 2010

Tonight I was on a mission to cook dinner for my family. I decided Portobello mushroom risotto would be the dish. They love rice and my brother lovessss mushrooms. So should be a big hit, I hope.

So as I am about to start cooking, I realize I have to find a wine opener. I figured since there were some wine bottles in the house, they have a wine opener. Don’t assume. So Isabel told me the neighbor have one. So we walked the 10 feet across the street and rang the bell. Sure enough they had one! Thank god.

Wait? It’s already sort of broken. So Isabel starts to use the opener, not well. I ask if I can do it. She looks at me like “what the hell could you possibly know about this.”

Finally the cork is ready to be pulled out. Isabel is unable to muster the strength required to open it. So finally I get my chance to open it and prove my worth. So what do I do? I end up breaking the handle of the opener right in half. Shiiittttt. This got a lot of laughter from the neighbor and Isabel. I felt dumb. But in my defense, that opener was made of the cheapest metal known to this earth.

Now what? Isabel suggests we go to the spa nearby because they probably have one. Sure enough they did and we finally got the bottle open. Ecuador is not a wine culture. Lesson learned.

The risotto came out pretty good, my brothers even got seconds, something I have never seen them do. This week I am going to cook homemade pizza and see how that goes.

Later that night, Isabel tells me it is time to go to the reigna competition (queen competition). I was expecting it to be pretty low key, or maybe the wine was. So I just wear jeans, hoodie and my camo nascar hat. We walk into the place and it was like how I would imagine it would feel like walking into a fashion show. Everyone was dressed up in nice dresses and suits. Crap. I ran home and changed so I would not stand out TOO badly. I always stand out, being the only gringo and all.

The 5 reignas aged from 16-20. They all did their initial runway walks (yeah there was a runway). After, came some famous singer who sang a few songs. I was not too impressed. Next up was the reignas dressed in different types of traditional clothing. The clothing ranged from coastal, sierra and oriente. It was neat to see how different the styles were in one country.

The next act had me in stitches from trying not to laugh out loud. Two back up dancers, and one long haired guy in a very tight gold suit. The all had very serious looks as they stood like statues. Until, Micheal Jackson’s Beat It came on. They were good, but it was just pretty damn funny and out of the blue. They also danced to MJ’s “they don’t really care about us” Shout out to the Bioko crew!

The oldest competitor of the Reignas won. She did not seem too surprised though.

Saturday the 4th,

Woke up. Ate breakfast. Read. Then I putted around for awhile until it was time for me to go my meeting in Cuenca. I was meeting up with the Cuenca scout group to check it out.

So it turns out scouts here are co-ed. They had about 30 boys and girls between ages of 7 and 20. They were all really nice and respectful. The scout master was really excited that I wanted to work with them. He told me if I ever have projects in Baños and need their help, they will gladly lend a hand.

So we hung out, played some games and I got to meet a lot of the older kids. Apparently most of them are very new and do not know each other. This worked great for me in getting to know everyone. Next weekend we will all be going to an orphanage to play with the kids there.

Afterwards I met up with a bunch of other volunteers to celebrate Jaime’s birthday. Ate way too much shwarma (gyros).

Sunday the day after Saturday,

Food Festival! Cool! Tents were set up all over the center and the futbol field. Selling a wide variety of food and trinkets. Isabel and I picked a stand that had some kind of traditional soup. Sure, why not, we will have a bowl. Turns out it was goat foot and intestine soup. Yum! No, not really. But interesting.

Then a bunch of guys started to build what looked to be a wrestling ring. Turns out it was for boxing. Not entirely sure why the food festival had boxing… but I am glad it did. We watched three matches before retiring back to the house for dinner.

Monday, Happy Labor day!

Met with Estella, the president of the Junta finally. So next week I will begin teaching marketing! Also we discussed a couple projects to include the scouts on. First project will be to repaint the cement basketball/futbol field. I have to come up a budget and pricing for the project, but it seems like it will be approved.

I hope to have my mail situation figured out this weekend so I can finally give my address out.

Monday August 30, 2010

Today, I received a call at 8:50 am informing me that the 9am meeting has been rescheduled for tomorrow. This means I have nothing to do all day.

I spent the first part of the day reading the past Baños volunteer’s final report and playing guitar. Then I had spinach and potato soup with Isabel, Pablo and Rosa. After lunch, I felt the need to get out and about. I packed water, my rain coat, my camera and just started walking up the road headed west. I did not have any destination in mind; I like these kinds of walks.

I came to a fork in the road where my “uncle” has a little tienda (shop). When I go with Isabel to gather food for the cuys and get chased by roosters we go to the left past the cemetery. So I figured why not go to the right?

I encountered many dogs just hanging about. The majority of them ignored me, some came up for a sniff and the rest kept their distance and barked.

After about an hour of walking, I came across a man, a wheelbarrow and a dog. He was gardening in a little patch just off to the side of the road. He looked up and was very surprised to see me. I got the feeling white people do not frequent this dirt road often.

We exchanged hellos and he asked me where it was I was walking to. I told him with a smile and a shrug, “I don’t know, just exploring.” He smiled back, waved me on and said enjoy.

The dog never even lifted his head from under the cool shade of the wheelbarrow. Apparently he sees gringos all the time.

When my shadow became long and my legs weary, I decided to head back home. Arrived home some time later, relaxed for a bit before dinner. Rice and chicken! Love it! I am really happy I enjoy rice, or meal time would not be as enjoyable.

After dinner I put on a nice shirt and headed to mass with Pablo and Isabel. I had to make up for skipping out on Sunday I guess. Plus, the church looks really pretty at night.

Credit cards

I have yet to see someone use one, or even a device to swipe them at a store. People here only buy what they can pay for at the time. The only other real option is to get a loan, which from what I understand is not the easiest of things to do.

Looking back I realized I used my credit card for just about everything. But if you were to ask me why I had it I would probably say something like “oh it is for emergencies.”

Building credit is a good thing. But the power we yield in those desirable pieces of plastic also allow us to purchase stuff we do not really need and put us into debt.

I know this sounds a bit preachy, I just want to you, the reader, to try something.

I want you to go a week (or two) without using your credit card. Go to the grocery store with a set amount of cash. Things like that.

Do your purchasing habits change?

Since I have stopped using a credit card, mine have.

Sunday, August 22

I spent today giving speeches introducing myself at three separate mass services. 7am, 11am and 4pm. The mass services were surprisingly short, only 50 minutes give or take. However there was not a seat to be found in the church. There were anywhere between 200 and 300 people in each mass. This was a great opportunity to explain why this gringo was going to be wandering around town trying to teach with bad Spanish for the next 2 years.

Monday

I put on my nice clothes and headed out to the Junta Parochial. The Padre is on vacation the next two weeks and will only be around on the weekends, so I feel a little lost. This is the best place to go, I assume, if I need some work.

I thought right. The president whom I met on my previous visit was very excited to share her plans. She said there is a lot of work to be done. Which is good, I would rather have tons of work than none.

Conversation translated roughly:

“We just taught a customer service class to the local hotel, hostel, restaurant and tienda owners. Can you design a marketing class to teach them?”

“Yeah, I can come up with an outline. How many classes?” I asked, my first mistake.

“Can you design a yearlong plan by Wednesday?”

Eager to please, I smiled and said “si.”

I left the office trying not to kick myself thinking “you dumbass. You know you can’t do that.” After a little internal debate I decided the following points of action. One, I don’t technically work for anyone, I volunteer.

I drew up a plan that came out to 11 classes, about 2 hours each. This could be spread out over a three month period. We will see how it goes. Maybe they will like it, maybe they will not. Or perhaps they would rather learn something else or just say to hell with this gringo.

Tuesday

I did some more work on the Marketing outline. I also read up on the Community Assessment Tools we are supposed to do in the next few months. Still not sure what to do about those, on the back burner they have been placed.

After lunch I decided to venture further up the road into the more rural part of Baños. Not 30 meters out the front door I ran into Isabel (my new host mother). She was about to head up the same way I was headed to buy some herbs. So I thought.

The dirt road is uphill the whole way (like the Manayunk wall but worse). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manayunk,_Philadelphia,_Pennsylvania#Manayunk_Wall_.28Landmark.29 Then we came to a small little town center that looked straight out of an old Wild West film. Big circular dirt patch surrounded by some buildings in a shambles, others not, and a little run down chapel. We continued past the little center then suddenly veered off this little cow path between gardens. We followed the winding path till we hit this patch of what I thought was weeds.

Isabel whipped out her pocket sickle and started hacking the grass and pilling it up. Now I am confused.

“What is that for and what is it?”

“It is kind of like lemon grass. It is for the cuy that we have that I showed you.”

I guess my puzzled expression said what I wanted to say.

“Oh I didn’t show you? Yeah, we have 70 cuy in a house outback of the house, my uncle has 200.”

Huh, yeah, did not know that. She would not let me use the sickle. I guess she figured I would use it as badly as my Spanish and only cause more work. So curiosity got the better of me and I started wondering around the property (her brothers).

As I turned the corner of some kind of building in the middle of the field I scared the hell out of a very large turkey and myself. Oh crap that is no turkey! It was the Godzilla of roosters. This thing was a good two and half to three feet tall of pissed off rooster. So what did I do? I ran. What did it do? It chased me for a good 20 feet.

Isabel thought this was hilarious. There are three official goals of the Peace Corps. We joke that the 4th unofficial goal is to be a source of entertainment to the community. Yeah, check that one off the list.

After that comic relief, we bundled up the grass stuff and walked to the road. I was not looking forward to carrying this the whole way back. But once we hit the road, she dropped her bundle and sat on it. She informed me that would catch a camioneta (truck taxi) back to her house.

Song for today: Sic ‘em On a Chicken http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2E4MAqttvgM

Wednesday August 25, 2010

I got to the Junta around 9am for my meeting (mistake number 2, not scheduling a time). So, I chatted with the secretary and found out the President was not in yet. She called every number she had to reach her, nada. Ok, I will stick around for awhile. Two hours later I called it. I will just email her the stuff and ask her a date and time to discuss the class. Lesson learned.

So now what to do with my free time today? Read, write, play guitar and learn some blues??? Sounds like a good plan.

¡Hasta luego!

August 18th,

Today is the big day! Weeks upon weeks of language training, health lessons and power points and we are finally ready! I had grown out my beard for the occasion and last night trimmed it up to look spiffy for the occasion. The last Omnibus (group) that came through, most of the guys had crazy civil war style beards. So I was simply keeping up the tradition.

The swearing in ceremony was at the lovely house of the US Ambassador. There were heartfelt speeches given by the US Ambassador Heather Hodges, PC Ecuador Country Director, staff and some people from my group. After which we all took the following oath.

“I, Tristan Schreck, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

Now we are officially Peace Corps. Volunteers! And we were in for a very special treat, apart from meeting the US Ambassador.

Bagels and cream cheese!

After which we all went back to our hostels, changed and headed out to the bbq at the PC headquarters. This was organized on by the VAC which is essentially volunteer government. They act as a liaison between the volunteers and the PC staff.

We also played some football and frisbee.

After all that we went back to the hostal and then to the supermarket to get sandwhich materials for dinner. Then we went to the the health group's hostal for a yet another party.

August 19th,

Woke up shivering and a fever of 102, probably the same number as bathroom visits I had throughout the day too. What a great day one of my official Peace Corps. volunteer career. Shit happens. Luckily I had two important things going for me that day. One, was my purchase of the entire first season of the TV show NCIS for $9. Second were my friends I have made in the Peace Corps. Everyone was quick to ask if I needed anything.

After a whole day of trying to feel better I finally got my fever down and was as ready as I could be to haul all my luggage for a 10 hour bus ride to Cuenca. I sipped Pepto Bismol like a cocktail the whole ride there.

August 20th, 2010

Arrived in Cuenca. Sprinted to first restaurant in search of decent porcelain. Hopped in a cab to Baños. Argued with cab driver about the gringo price. Called host brothers. Moved stuff upstairs. Passed out for 2 hours. Woke up. Unpacked my life. Caught up on e-mails. Ate bread and hot chocolate. More e-mails and skype. Tired. Bed.

Budget breakdown

Living allowance (food, clothing, transportation etc): $347/month

Rent money: $60/month

Roughly $11.50 per day to live off of. So I could buy a Starbuck’s coffee and a Big Mac meal per day on this budget if I lived in Philly. And I doubt that even in the worst of neighborhoods could I find rent this inexpensive. The dollar, for the most part goes a lot further here than back in its country of origin.

Average costs in my town:

Bus rides to Cuenca .25, bus ride to Quito $10, guinea pig dinner $7, bottle of water .30, cocacola .50 for a glass bottle, haircut $1-2, more prices to come.

Things I need to purchase:

Nice clothes for when I work with the Padre and the local government. AC/DC T-shirts and Phillies t-shirts aren’t work appropriate. Pants cost around $15 and nice shirts are the same. So my budget gets that much smaller for this month, and I am sure there are unforeseen costs in future months.

I also need a mirror for my bathroom because shaving by using my computer’s camera is less than ideal.

Me getting my diploma

Health and HIV group

Youth and Families

A view

Sunday August 1 through Saturday August 7th, 2010

This was our Tech Trip week. We were split into groups of 8 trainees, based on our program. My program is Youth Entrepreneurship. We were also accompanied by three staff members and a third year PC volunteer. Our mission was to visit other volunteers and give charlas (classes, basically) on requested topics such as sex education and self esteem etc. We were provided with manuals that outlined the charlas for us, thank god.

Our travel itinerary consisted of Guayaquil, Salinas and Playas (google them, you will be jealous). Now first things first, food. If you are like me and love to eat good sea food then the coast of Ecuador is the place to visit. It has some kick butt sea food, especially the shrimp.

Ok, now on to the charlas. I gave, or tried to give a nutrition charla to a group of 8 kids around the age of 7. Holy crap, I felt I was the butt end of a joke. It didn’t go so well, in other words. Perhaps it was my bad explanation or my shitty drawing that through them off, who knows.

The basic idea of the charla was to have the kids draw a picture of what they think a healthy person should look like and draw what they should eat.

However one of my group members saved the day with a fantastic never ending game of duck duck goose. Phew!

I have a lot more respect for teachers now. But our work week had only just begun. Next was the sex ed charlas.

We were split into groups of three or two for these. It was interesting trying to control a class room of 30 or so teenagers and talk about sex. When we were able to we had some good answers from kids. Some of the answers were surprising. Especially when the sex ed teacher sitting in on our class interjected to say that masturbation does cause mental damage. Talk about a curve ball. We all stood there unsure whether to try and argue or just shut up and move on. We chose the “just shut up and move on” option. Our Spanish is not good enough yet to argue.

Later that day I was rewarded with a very nice treat. I got to touch the Pacific Ocean for the first time in my life.

The week went on rather quickly. We all got better at giving charlas. I even had pretty good success with the nutrition charla at one school where the kids were angels.

Saturday when we got back, I decided I should take my boots out to a rodeo. Sure enough I fit right in and before I knew I was dancing the night away in the streets for yet another Juan Montalvo celebration.

Monday the 9th of August,

This is the last week I will be living with my Cayambe host family. I must say I am kind of upset to be moving out. They have accepted me as part of their family from the first day and have showed me a lot of love. I am going to miss El Capitan crowing at all hours and our brand new guinea pig babies too!

Tuesday August 10th

Today was a battle. I woke up with a sickness I now call WhichEnd sickness. I woke up feeling like someone dragged me down a flight of stairs and then kicked me in the head. To top it off I was given a charming case of nausea, diarrhea, vomiting and a fever.

WhichEnd comes from when I would run to the bathroom and I wouldn’t know which end of my body to shove in our seat-less toilet. Today, America, I missed you greatly.

Luckily my family (my host mother mainly) was there to rescue her pet gringo. I was only allowed to consume water and some kind of local hot tea remedy that tasted horrible. Around 8pm, after a 12 hour fight, I had finally started to feel a bit better.

Took a chance and ate a bowl of rice. I was starving.

Wednesday, D-day plus one

Much better today!

Side note: I got my boots and they are fantastic! However I keep forgetting to take pictures. Please be patient with the author.

July 22nd, 2010 to my Cousin Kim, it is probably in your best interest you do not read this blog entry.

Today was a pretty relaxing day. Had an extended lunch with the committee that the current volunteer (Brad) helped to create. It was interesting to hear their ideas and how they differ from other ideas in the community. I am sure in the future I will be able to explain that better, but first I want to know more about the going-ons in the town.

Later on in the day I went to mass with Isabel and afterwards we had a lovely dinner with the Padre and some other important local people who names I will someday know.

The first dish, usually soup, was soup. It was good, but I was preoccupied with the thought that I was going to get served cuy (guinea pig) for the main course. As I was slurping down my hot soup, I saw the ladies who brought the food prepping something in a greasy cardboard box.

“Maybe it is just a box of super greasy potato chips.” I reassured myself

“Why did she grab scissors and what is she cutting in the box?! Maybe she is cutting snowflakes out of potato chips like I did with paper when I was a kid.” I lied to myself

Shit.

The lady removes her hands from the box, scissor hand first, and in the other hand is a whole cuy grilled to what I assume would be perfection. The skin looks like hardened caramel. Cuy are usually cooked on spits, this one clearly was. How do I know this you ask? It is quite obvious, the jaw is broken and open wide mimicking a python ready to swallow a hippo. The other end of the cuy is opened just as wide.

She continued to cut the cuy in half. When suddenly I realized I had stopped eating my soup and was simply starring at this lady and the cuy across the room. I don’t think anyone noticed, so I did the best I could to finish my soup and not to think of my pet guinea pig I had as a kid. Crap, I just did. Now all I could think about Wendy. She used to cry out whenever we would open the fridge, hoping to get some lettuce or other veggies. Cute little thing she was, may she rest in peace.

A plate with potatoes, rice and half a cuy was placed in front of me. I have eaten some weird things before including shark, duck feet, kangaroo and raw goat’s blood. But this for some reason was a whole new level of gut wrenching torture to pick the bones clean as not to insult my hosts.

It is a greasy meat. I will let you, the readers, decide for yourself if you like it. I hope I myself grow to like this traditional dish. I have been informed that I will most likely be eating it a few times a month.

July 23rd, 2010

Integration is a funny thing. Sometimes I think the Peace Corps. overcomplicates the subject and how to achieve it. After I ate breakfast, I noticed my host brother Pablo was watching the movie Avatar (in Spanish). So I joined him and we sat in silence watching for a good 2 hours. After he asked me if I like action movies and who my favorite stars were. He is a big action fan too; he likes Sylvestor Stalone and just about any movie with gore. On to the next action flick, The Book of Eli, in which Denzel Washington kicks a lot of ass and dies as a martyr. Then came lunch time and we ate in silence and then headed our separate ways for the day. We said “see you later” but this time it sounded different. It sounded like we both wanted to actually hang out again. It was at that point that I knew I had made another friend.

That night, Isabel hosted a goodbye/welcome party for Brad and myself. A bunch of neighbors came to help celebrate in the frame of a four story apartment building next to our house. Turns out that Isabel owns it and plans on putting a restaurant on the first floor! However she ran out of funds, so the project is halfway done for now.

Party started at 8, did not eat until 10:30. Starving! As was everyone. In the meantime many meaningful speeches were given. The community will truly miss Brad and expressed the warmest of welcomes for me. Speech! Christian (as I am know here, easier to say) introduce yourself. Luckily I had sort of practiced this so it went pretty well. After my speech, Isabel with tears still in her eyes from her speech, got up to say something else.

Translated roughly:

“Tristan’s Spanish is pretty good; just don’t ask him what time it is. He will give you a math problem. Instead of 10 minutes until 8, you will get 10 times eight!” Everyone got a big chuckle out of me using the wrong word for “until.” I was embarrassed. But Brad leaned over and told me “That means they like you.”

:)

July 24, 2010 Last day in my site until I am back for two years!

Packed up my gear into my backpack and headed to Cuenca for the day to explore a little bit with the others.

I got off the bus at the bus at the wrong stop and had a 40 minute walk to where we had to meet up. Not a big deal though, got to learn a little bit of Cuenca and see old retired gringo couples out for walks.

10pm, bus ride! It was much better this time around. However, there were still several times when I awoke feeling as if the bus was tipping over at high speeds. Thankfully the shades were shut and it was dark out, because I am sure we were swerving right next to huge cliffs.

July 25th, 2010 Ah, cayambe.

We finally arrived back in Cayambe about 10am, exhausted and in need of sleep in a real bed. I sleep on the bus, but it is not really sleep. It is more like a being knocked out by a punch or something like that. I always wake up sore and cranky and wanting to go back to sleep.

I snuck in the side door to avoid the impending hour long conversation with my family about my new sight. I just wanted to sleep. Fatal error, I flushed the toilet. As I leave the bathroom, Connor comes running upstairs.

“Hey man, everyone is coming to Oyacachi (his site) now. My futbol team is in the finals and we recruited Walter to play as a ringer.” He exclaimed.

“Sure, let me pack a jacket and camera.”

Glad I went. Oyacachi is a beautiful town of 600 people tucked away in a tiny valley in the middle of nowhere. Cell phones do not work there and the town has not has power for a month, yet life goes on. A beautiful cascade can be seen from the town and it is also known for its natural hot springs.

Connor’s team tied the game 2-2 in the last minute with a goal scored by Walter!

Afterwards we all went to the hot springs to relax. Connor is convinced there is natural lithium in the mineral-y rich hot springs of Oyacachi. After we got out of the water, I definitely understood what he meant.

We then walked across this rickety suspension bridge into town in search of a meal. We ate a traditional dish of rice, fried trout and soup. The trout was fantastic! It made me want to go fishing again. After dinner we said our goodbyes to Connor and headed off into the night for our 2 hour trek home.

I am pretty sure I was asleep before I had fully lain down in my bed.

July 26th, back to school

This morning I went to take out money from the ATM to pay my family for the upcoming weeks’ rent. Where is my ATM card (that I got just a week ago)? Hijo de puta! Well this sucks, it takes at least a week to get a new one and we are leaving for a weeklong trip this Sunday, super duper Tristan, and way to go. Luckily I had some cash I was saving to get my cowboy boots. So I pay the family with what cash I had. $20 left over to buy my boots tomorrow, and I will have $5 left to feed myself for the next 5 days or so… I am getting the damn boots.

July 27th, 2010

Waited all day for 5 o’clock and finally it came. Clint, Curlee and I all arrived at my house at 5:30pm sharp like I told Jose we would so he could take us to get the boots. However he had some stuff he had to do and we didn’t leave until around 6:30, no pasa nada. We spent the hour working with one of Walter’s friend’s English homework and this proved to be quite entertaining. At last Jose arrived and we hopped in the truck.

His cousin’s store is smaller than most American full bathrooms. On display were several models of boots. The biggest size he had for me to try on was a 43, about a 10 in men’s. This apparently is super big in Ecuador, haha.

After we had picked out the styles of boots we each wanted he took measurements of our feet. He commented that Clint’s feet were really wide and looked like a ducks.

He then drew up the contracts and we signed off and paid whatever we had on us. I happily gave him my $20. My custom handmade cowboy boots will cost me a total of $90 and completely worth going without the luxury of full meals for the next few days.

When we got home Carlota and Jose had to help install some sort of lighting fixture upstairs in one of the apartments above our house. We didn’t eat dinner until about 10pm, again no pasa nada. I spent that time teaching Walter, Ping and several of the neighbor kids the card game Texas hold’em. They absolutely loved the game! We started off with about 15 cents in pennies each, and by the end Ping had everyone’s money.

What I have taught/sort of taught since I have been here:

• English, mostly curse words or grammatical structure

• Some guitar

• America’s favorite gambling card game Texas Hold’em

• And hopefully helped improve the image of Americans in the minds of a few Ecuadorians (not that they think badly of us)

Ps. I am growing my beard and my host brother says I look like Bin Laden or Che Guevara. I am considering shaving.

http://www.parroquiabanos.gov.ec/banos/

July 20th, 2010

This morning we finished up the bus ride to Cuenca around 730am in a city none of us knew. So we just wondered around for awhile in search of Banco Guayaquil. We all needed to withdrawal cash for the week and since the PC banks with them, we do not get surcharged. After asking 6 different people, getting different answers each time, we finally arrived.

Then it was time to part ways and go to our sites. Curlee simply hopped in a cab and gave an address, her site is in Cuenca. Clint and I went to a tourism center to inquire on where to find the buses to head to Paute and Baños, respectively. The lady behind the counter was very helpful and showed us where to go on the map. And with that Clint and I parted ways and headed to our stops.

The bus ride to the center of Baños took about 25 minutes. There was lots of enjoyable scenery and some surprisingly nice houses, not quite what I was expecting. The bus headed out of town and then came to a big hill and the driver dropped down into a lower gear to make it up. I saw the big blue church come into view and figured that is probably the best place to get off.

When I got I off I noticed the incredible view the church has of Cuenca (I will post some pictures soon). I called Isabel, my new host mom, and she told me to wait at the church for her. The mid day sun was starting to come out and it was hot, not like Philly, it’s a dry heat here. After a few minutes she arrived and walked me back to the house. Isabel speaks a mile minute, I feel like I am missing a lot of valuable information when she speaks.

When we approach the house on the dirt road, I am very surprised how nice it looks, and then we got inside. Inside was spacious and nice. Upstairs we went until the last floor, the third, my floor. My room is spacious and has windows that look outside! It gets even better. I have my own bathroom, with a hot shower and the tap water is potable! Wait there is more, I find out later in the day that the house has wireless internet. I landed the Posh Corps. Copy and paste the link below to see what is next door to our house and where one of the sons works.

http://www.piedradeagua.com.ec/esp.html

My room!

This is less of the “survival” Peace Corps. So hopefully I can spend more time on helping the community rather than building new latrines and running from dangerous animals.

After a dinner which consisted of rice and beans, I was invited to attend a bible class. Sure, probably a good way to learn more Spanish, culture and give myself a good reputation. My grandfather, after hearing this said “after all the good lord has done for [me], [I] should probably go to bible class three times a day.” He has a valid point; I will make an effort to go to it every week.

July 21, 2010

Wake up, ate breakfast alone. Then did some of the assigned work we had for the week. Example, locate important things in your community on a map that you draw. Afterwards, unsure on what to do, I decided to just hope on bus and ride it until it got back to Baños. The whole process took about two and half hours.

The first part of the trip is all downhill, and a very steep downhill. Did the driver drive carefully and slow? Nope, he drove that bus like a formula one race car down that hill. It was like being on roller coaster with no seatbelt or foam around the metal bars. Guess I could have skipped the coffee this morning. I think in another life I was a dog. Not for my love of peeing on trees, but because I love going for rides in cars and looking at the scenery. I started to recognized places as we zoomed around Cuenca and a few other barrios. The city has a very European feel to it.

For dinner I helped make empanadas. But not the kind you are probably thinking of. The innards of these were solely rice and bananas. After frying them, we coated them with sugar. Absolutely delicious, but they are definitely a cause of severe diabetes if you eat more than two of them. Which, I did.

Here are some pictures from when we found out our sites!

All of us waiting to find out our sites!

Our language teachers!

July 17th, 2010

Today my workshop group and I made marmalade! It was a surprisingly easy task. The best marmalade was by far the pineapple and carrot combination.

Afterwards a bunch of us took a trip to Otavalo, which on Saturdays has a huge open air market. This was like light to flies for gringos. And of course, with gringos (I am not a tourist, I live here now) around the prices go up. However, haggling is permitted and encouraged.

I found a very cool shirt like the indigenous people wear that I just had to have. The original price was $6, which is a hell of a deal compared to if you bought something like this in the states. But that did not stop me! I am a man on a mission, but more importantly I am man on tight budget. It was pretty easy to talk her down to $3. Which means she was still making profit off of it, so she must make a killing when she sells these to tourists at full price.

For lunch I ate a less than satisfying burger, but it also had ham on it, which was an interesting concept. All coffee here is instant. Have yet to see a percolator. After a few hours of wondering around the market we headed back on the bus ride. I slept the whole way; it is the closest man has come to time traveling.

It didn’t seem like much was going to happen tonight, so I locked myself in my room to play guitar for awhile. Around 8 o’clock, I got bored and went downstairs to see what the rest of the family was up too. Ping, Walter and Orlando asked me to come celebrate Juan Montalvo with them. Sure why not, could be interesting.

Juan María Montalvo Fiallos (April 13, 1832, Ambato – January 17, 1889, Paris) was an Ecuadorian author and essayist, generally thought to be one of Ecuador's best writers of the period. A political liberal, Montalvo's beliefs were marked by anti-clericism and a keen hatred for Ecuador's two caudillos that ruled during his life: Gabriel García Moreno and Ignacio de Veintemilla. After an issue of his book, El Cosmopolita, viciously attacked Moreno, Montalvo was exiled to Colombia, where he would write most of his later works. He was a dedicated champion of democracy, was said to have a lucid and inquisitive intellect and a strong, semi-romantic temperament. (Wikipedia)

Walter grabbed two wool ponchos which he and ping wore, and a cowhide drum which he carried. Next, Ping handed me his acoustic guitar and off went. Oh man, this is going to be fun, whatever it is.

We met friends of theirs in the main park of Cayambe. In total there were about 10-12 of us, 5 guitars, 1 mandolin, a pan flute, a drum and 4 pairs of the animal hair pants. Oh and a bottle of whiskey that got passed around a few times. At this point in time it seemed like everyone was waiting for something. I never found out what it was but after an hour we started walking down the middle of a street heading out of town (blocking one lane of traffic). Then the song broke out (we only played one all night, but the rhythm and lyrics varied). It was not terribly difficult to play on guitar, and one of the guys in the animal hair pants taught it to me.

We got a lot of stares at first from people as we paraded dancing, singing and playing music down the street. I thought it was because we were the only weirdos celebrating (turns out that is not the reason). About a half mile into our journey a much larger group of people heading the opposite way came into view. I recognized one of the men to be the suitor of one of the PC volunteers. When he saw me he had to look twice, in amazement or drunkenness not sure which. But no matter, because he insisted on pouring boxed wine (def not Black Box) down my throat while I still played. Good thing I had a water proof jacket on. The further out of town we headed, the more crowded it got.

Suddenly the group veers into a bar. Definition of bar: a place that sells beer and/or chicha. I saw Daniel another PC aspirante. He was a bit surprised to see me guitar in hand but before long was dancing around in our circle as we took over the room. He was there because his host mom was selling empanadas and invited him to come. Suddenly one of the women in our group was handed a bowl of chicha and a plate of pastries to serve us. Cool, the must be friends or something. After a while the group took to the streets again.

It was not a hundred yards before we passed 2 other groups and were in another bar. Then it dawned on me. If you have a band you get free drinks and sometimes food! Well hot dog, this festival rocks. The owner (presumed) of the bar came up to me as we were leaving with a drink in his hand. “Please, drink my beer. You are welcome here anytime gringo.” Then it hit me why we got more attention than other groups. Not only was I one of the few foreigners around, I was also playing, dancing and singing with a band.

So I decided I needed to step up my stage presence a little on the next walk. I led the group for a bit, doing some of my best Angus Young impressions http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4gNsRjHzV4&feature=related. I must say, definitely one of the best experiences I have had here.

We jammed for about four hours before we were all too tired. Thank the lord, my fingers nearly fell off. I was invited to do something similar to this in two weeks by one of the other guys. I think I have finally started to integrate.

Good night!

July 18th, Sunday fun day

Today I washed my clothes, yippie. Slightly more enjoyable this time around because I actually (kind of) knew what I was doing.

But before that fun, I was surprised during breakfast when my brother came in with a dead chicken, feathers and all. It scared the ba-jesus out of his 3 year old niece, I laughed. I figured it was what we would be eating for dinner (wrong). He asked me to help him feed the chickens, something I enjoy doing. So we went outside to the lot next door where most of the animals are. Side note, we have 70 chickens that live on the roof (used for food and to sell). So as I was tossing corn to the chickens (used for eggs) and El Capitan (used for kicking ass in the ring, he is 5-0) when I thought to myself, “the pigs sure are quiet.”

I am a curious fellow by nature, today I wished I wasn’t. When I looked over the wall into their pen I saw the three not-so-little pigs ripping through the carcass of the hen, feathers, feet and all. Step one; hold back vomit. Step two; keep watching to see if they eat feet. Yeah, they ate those as well. When the piggies were finished, the interior of their pen looked like someone force-fed a hand grenade to a chicken.

Dinner was a delish dish called Ceviche. I highly recommend this, simply a great and unchallenging dish. http://www.cookstr.com/recipes/ecuadorian-shrimp-ceviche here is a similar recipe!

Monday July 19, 2010

Today during our mid-training evaluations, we had a very special guest. The PC Regional Director for Latin America was in country for a week. He was a very honest man when he spoke about the faults of the Peace Corps. But was also very positive in how much he liked what we all were about to be doing. The way he spoke gave me confidence in the higher-ups of this organization. Not that I had not had confidence in them before, it is just that before this there was no face to the name.

The 1.5 hour bus ride from Cayambe to Quito was nothing compared to what lay ahead. The 10 hour ride from Quito to Cuenca was less than enjoyable. There were assigned seats on the bus, this we didn’t know (Curlee, Clinton and I). We were at the back of the bus all comfy, when the stewardess or whatever they are called on a bus came up and made us move to the front. I had to sit next to a shitty window that rattled and shook the entire way. At times it was quiet and others it drove me to the point of madness when it sounded like it was going to rattle off the bus.

Then there were times when the bus driver would take a turn to sharply and I am pretty sure at least three times only half the wheels were on the ground going around some hairpin turns.

If you come to visit me, take a plane. Unless that sounds like fun!

July 14th, 2010

My host mother had to go to Guayaquil for a few days; her niece is in the hospital. So this left me, Walter and Jose alone in the house for a few days. If you take one wheel off the car, it breaks down. The kitchen has come to a standstill and confusion ensues every meal time. The first morning after she had gone, I found Jose in the kitchen making juice and we went through our usual morning ritual hi-how-are-yas. However, his response was not his usual “bien.” Today he was sad, because his wife was gone and we are “mal cocinas” or bad cooks. “We are at war with the kitchen” was another popular phrase for the next few days.

We definitely ate less and poorer quality food in Carlota’s absence but we did not starve! And luckily I was not fed cat. Although every time I ate a meat I was told it was cat. My response would either be, “meow” or “this is one big cat, and it has the rib of a cow!”

July 15, 2010 the night before a life changing day.

There is one thing on all 66 of minds today, and it wasn’t home cooked American food. It was our site assignments. Tomorrow, we will find out where we will live and what we will be doing for the next 2 years of our lives.

It was all anyone could talk about today and with good reason. Everyone has different wants and wishes for their sites, but we all want to know, and we want to know now. We find out at 8:30am tomorrow, or 9:30am eastern time.

I am trying not to picture or hope for a particular location or job description. I do not want to be disappointed. It would not be to my benefit to go into a strange place with a negative point of view before I even got there.

I will certainly have trouble sleeping tonight! Well not too much trouble, seeing as how I can fall asleep on a bus full of smelly loud people.

July 16th, 2010 the day we find out where we will live and work for the next two years.

We all arrive at the same compound we played futbol at last Friday at 8am. Everyone was a little nervous, even if they did not say so. I certainly was. We were asked by one of the staff members to come around back of the compound to one of the fields.

A huge outline of Ecuador and its provinces lay before us created by an array of colored rose petals. One by one, our names were pulled from a hat and we were told our province. After a name was called, that person’s language facilitator walked them (usually skipping!) to their province. My name was called about halfway through. I was lead out to the province Azuay (near Cuenca) http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=es&gl=ec&biw=1440&bih=708&q=Ba%C3%B1os+Azuay+Ecuador&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=NThCTOjvAcK88gbO8PQN&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&ved=0CAoQ_AU (copy and paste the link into your browser to see my site). There ended up being three of us in the province, me, Clinton and Curlee.

After everyone had been placed in their provinces it was time to move inside and find out more information about our sites. We were divided up into the three main groups of Youth and Families (mine), public health and HIV. In our respective rooms there were power point presentations with the name of our towns and our job descriptions! My town is Baños! The organization that I will be working with is Fundacion Pastoral Social de Baños Virgen de Guadalupe (FUPASBA). My counterpart is Padre Vicente Zaruma. Yes, that is Father Vicente Zaruma. The city has about 12,000 inhabitants.

Here is my job description:

• Family Disintegration: Help in the Senior Citizen Home, the Infant Nursery, and help the social workers that are part of the Center for the Protection of Human Rights-INFA.

• Lack of employment and poverty: Help identify and train the community members on different business alternatives that might be feasible in the community. Support the workshop “tailoring/Dress Making,” the different entrepreneurship trainings organized by the Pastoral Ministry of Baños and support the Tourism Plan of the Community.

• Help in the prevention of violence and abuse: installation of CPD-INFA in 2009, the Canton Council for Childhood and Adolescence made a strategic plan to protect children’s and adolescent’s rights in Baños. The parish committee for Childhood and Adolescence completed a diagnostic beginning in the year 2010.

• Perform activities for the youth: form youth groups, dance groups, public awareness campaigns on different topics, development of a strategic plan on behalf of the Parish Committee for Childhood and Adolescence, Proposal for an Art and Culture Center (approved by the vestry in 2009)

The community has also identified the following secondary activities (as if the first few didn’t seem daunting enough!)

• Assist in the development of projects and strategic plans for the parish

• Help with school gardens and teach agricultural techniques

• Teach English or ICT/computers in the elementary schools

• Negotiate economic assistance for community projects

So, it seems like I am going to be rather busy for the next 26 months of my life. I also found out that my new host family there is awesome, which is comforting.

Now I am sure you are wondering, how they pick sites for us. Well it is based off of your program, language level, personality and what the community requests. Here is what the Padre requested (translated from Spanish).

It is important that the volunteer is not a vegetarian because meat is an essencial part of the diet in Baños, we also eat a lot of cuy. Obviously it would be better if the volunteer was catholic, if not they should at least be respectful of the communities traditions. Also, the volunteer should have a good grip of the language.

The volunteer will work most of the time on his/her own and should have the professionalism to complete tasks without supervision. It is also important that they have initiative and demonstrate confidence at the same time (in the beginning) community members will not go to him with projects or other ideas and the volunteer must actively seek to engage in the Labors of the various people in the community.

There is a “great” volunteer there now who I will meet on my upcoming week long trip this Monday. It sounds like I have some big shoes to fill.

I forgot the mention; it takes about 13 hours by bus to get to Baños from Cayambe. This will be an interesting week.

July 9th, Friday is a futbol day

Every group of aspirantees (what we are before we swear in as actual volunteers) had to come up with uniforms for a friendly futbol tournament. My group was called “Los Increibles” (like the movie The Incredibles). Our uniforms were solid red with gold trimming. We also had the option of getting a small sponsorship logo to go right over our heart on the jersey. The store that designed our jerseys had 30 or so choices, one of them being Pabst Blue Ribbon (cheap Milwaukee beer). So naturally that was chosen. When we arrived the day before, we were a little surprised by the layout of our jerseys. The Pabst Blue Ribbon logo was huge and the center point of the front of our jerseys, oh well. So it looked like our team was The Incredible Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Our team went 2-2 which was pretty good for us. It was a pretty fun day overall. We got to meet some more volunteers and ask them questions about their sites, lives and what illnesses they have contracted over their time of service.

We got a chance afterwards to have a couple beers with some of the volunteers who stuck around and got the “real” stories. Most were really funny and a few were a little scary but most of those were very isolated and rare incidences.

July 10th

Today our workshop went to an organic farm in a town called Tabacundo. Today’s agenda; make cheese! I was very surprised how easy it is to make the favorite local cheese, Queso Fresco. The following (not exact) way to make the cheese uses unpasteurized milk (you can use pasteurized).

1. Bring milk (between 30-75 Liters) to a near boil for 10-15 min while consistently stirring. (Temperature should be around 63C or 144F)

2. Add the enzymes

3. Cover with cloth and lid for 20-30 min (or until cheese has nearly formed on the bottom of the pot)

4. Mix by hand once, then recover

5. Separate the cheese from the liquid (whey) and place on a tray

6. Mix in salt (to help harden the cheese and some flavor) and other spices your little heart desires’.

7. Pour the excess liquid from the tray back into the original pot (this liquid is good pig food and laxative FYI)

8. Form cheese in molds (the molds are a kind of plastic like PVC)

9. Let sit for 15 minutes

10. Enjoy plain, on toast and/or with jelly!

Pictures are out of order... think of it as a matching game!

Afterwards we got a tour of the farm. Organic farming is a new movement taking place in Ecuador. At Don Edwin’s farm they use only natural kinds of pesticides, for example they grow this one kind of bush that bugs apparently hate, all over the farm. They also have a huge cement pool to collect rain water which in turn is used to water the plants on days where there is no rain.

They also use organic fertilizer, which comes from cuys (guinea pigs) and rabbits. These little guys are kept in baskets that hover above straw so it is easy to collect the manure. Cuy farming is a great business we were told. They do not require much food or care. They reproduce like mad, and inbreeding apparently is not an issue. The average cuy sells for around $7-8. So there is a very good ROI (return on investment). Had to throw that acronym in there to prove I learned something in college.

(This lemon tree produces lemons all year long!)

Don Edwin offered us a ride to the bus stop in his old beat up blue Ford pickup truck. It seemed like something straight out of a country song. A bunch of us jumped in the back and we headed out. I was humming “we can take a ride in my big green tractor” with the wind on my face, when I was abruptly taken from my moment of bliss by a terrifying site.

A man, head hanging and body soaked in blood was being escorted down the hills towards us by a horde of men with their faces covered. Some of the men carried machetes, while the bloody faced man carried the look of a man who knew the end was near. The blue Ford didn’t slow down (to the relief of its passengers) and split the mob in half as we went through. At this point I remembered hearing stories of some small towns that deal with criminals on their own. So I figured this guy had to be a theif or something.

Sirens and a white pickup marked Policía came flying of the hill and Don flagged it down. Some words were exchanged, and from what it seemed, he was telling the police to turn around and not worry about it. When he dropped us off at the bus stop, he looked at our puzzled faces and simply said “ladron,” the Spanish word for thief. No further explanation was needed I suppose.

Later that day I was informed that in indigenous towns, they have the legal right to deal with criminals collectively as a town. However this was not an indigenous town. It’s a larger sized city. So right or wrong, it happened and the ladron’s fate is unknown.

I came home and took a long nap (slept right through the Germany/Uruguay game). When I woke up I found Walter, Ping and Orlando hanging out in one of the families trucks. They told me to hop in and let’s go! Walter turned the corner on to the main road and then into a gas station where he requested a dollar from everyone.

Original dialogue was in Spanish and has been translated for your convenience.

“Walter, where are going?”

“We are going to Quito for dancing and girls!” (We aren’t allowed to go to Quito and it is a 1.5 hour car ride away)

“I’m not going to Quito, I can’t, and I am not allowed to.”

“haha, no, we are gonna cruise the town.”

It is comforting sometimes to know that some things span cultures worldwide. For example, getting pissed at screaming kids during an important sporting match on TV and cruising town in a car when you have nothing better to do. So we did just that, blasted reggae and tried to look cool. After awhile we started to drive outside of the main part of the city, down shitty roads into a barrio (neighborhood) I had never been before. Suddenly I saw the other family pickup parked on the roadside with Carlota, Jose and Christina (6 year old niece) sharing a plate of food in the cab. We parked the car and kept the stereo blasting the traditional party music we changed it to. Carlota then went and purchased a heaping plate of beans from one of the roadside food stands. These beans (larger than normal beans and with an edible shell) were adorned with a mild hot sauce. This is a traditional dish I was informed. Then they asked if I wanted to try chicha, “sure, why not.”

Chicha I later found out is delicious juice made from corn, and then mixed with homemade liquor. And for some reason they use coconut shells to dip into a bucket and serve the hot brew. This was not a knock down and drag you home mix, thank god.

After our little road side dinner we went home and hung out for awhile before I called it a night.

July 11, 2010 Another Sunday and still no church.

Despite the pictures of Jesus that are all over the house, my family does not seem to go to church ever. This morning we Walter had another soccer game at 10am, in which he scored 3 goals! So that was a lot of fun to watch. We rushed home (once again in the back of a truck) and I met up with some PC people to watch the World Cup Final, and boy was it a good game!

The cock fight, once again didn’t happen . I feel like an 8 year old kid that has to wait for Christmas morning. Blah, maybe next weekend.

I have just noticed a lot of men here wear cowboy boots. Since we are trying to integrate into society, I am thinking about purchasing a pair (there is a town nearby that specializes in leather goods). Would love to hear everyone’s thoughts! (it is also a secret test to see if you guys read all this junk)

The sheep wanted to play futbol too!

July 6, 2010

Typical meals:

•Breakfast: Freshly blended juice (orange, tomate del arbol, babaco or melon), instant coffee, pansito (toasted croissant type thing with cheese) and an egg (fried, hardboiled, and hardboiled with a soft gooey center)

•Lunch: some kind of light broth soup with potatoes meat and some veggies, main course almost always has rice and potatoes and some cut up veggies. The meat is the part that changes. Options are (not that I get to pick, it is whatever the house or the restaurant has) pork, beef, chicken, rooster, bull, cuy (guinea pig), hot dog, fish and rabbit.

•Dinner: pretty much the same general ingredients but the style in which they are cooked and presented varies. After dinner we usually have agua remedia, to help with digestion and other internal problems. Seems to work well, if anything it is more water to drink.

My family never drinks any kind of liquid during dinner, I find this odd. Apparently it is a cultural thing. I barely made it through tonight’s dinner of three boiled potatoes (size of baseballs) with no toppings, cooked meat and corn, with a drink. I don’t know how they do it. It felt like trying to eat a whole packet of saltine crackers without water. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining about the food, it is great, I just like to have some kind of liquid to wash it down.

New stuff I have eaten:

•Pig intestines (so it uncooked first… looked the same after cooking)

•Pig heart (better than the intestines)

•Chicken stomach (miles ahead of pig organs in the taste good race)

•Parts of one of our roosters that El Capitan (the good fighter) killed in the yard

•Babaco (it is a fruit)

•Tomate del arbol (also a fruit)

I am sure I will be trying more stuff soon. My host dad keeps teasing me that we are going to eat a cat the neighbor has. It will probably end up on a plate in front of me someday escorted by a healthy serving of rice and hopefully a drink. Oh well.

Bien provecho!

July 2nd, 2010 A lovely Friday

Field trip! Today my group (5 people total) teamed up with three other groups for a cultural trip to Peguche.

The traditional Quechuan woman demonstrated some of their trades and techniques for us. It was simply fascinating. Wool hats, blankets and other clothing. I thought sheep shed wool sweaters, apparently I was mislead by childhood cartoons.

The woman had a basket of recently sheared wool (still dirty). We were all given a small piece to sift through and pick out the pieces of dirt, small twigs and maybe pieces of excrement. Luckily, my piece didn’t come from that end of the sheep. After we finished our task at a fraction of the speed one of them could have done it, we watched the next part. Next, they used two pieces of what looked like Velcro attached to wood too fluff up the wool.

Now comes the part that takes a real talent. They took the fluffy wool and put it on an upright piece of wood and meticulously spun it around a pencil thick piece of wood to create string. A few of the girls tried to emulate it, but understandable had a very hard time. This was apparently the really old fashioned way to do it. So we moved over to the more advanced wooden machine with a giant wheel at one end.

Amateurs need not apply.

They also showed us how to make cornmeal and aji (hot sauce).

We also danced a traditional dance and I was asked to join in on the other guitar present to help play some music for the dancers.

The dance session concluded and we were all individually blessed by one of the women. She took a bowl of water with flowers and patted some on our head while speaking in Quechua.

We walked to the cascade at Peguche, only a 25 minute walk from the house of Quechuan family. Some people brought their bathing suits in anticipation of a good swim (I did not, but likely I had quick dry under wear! Shout out to Gen and Eric!) Walking through a beautiful stone pathway covered by the canopy of the rainforest we approached the verge and into view came the cascade.

What a sight, but the first thing I noticed was lack of places to take a dip. That did not discourage the 5 or so people, me included, from taking a dip. Refreshed. No towel. Not a problem, one of our professors let me use his after he was finished. The Peace Corps. staff is really great, not just for lending wet Americans towels, but also for being great teachers and friends.

Nothing like putting jeans on when you are still a little wet, not the best feeling. Sucked it up and moved along.

Back in the little touristy court yard area entrance to the cascade stood a welcoming bar. Sure, we have time for a beer! I laughed as I noticed the familiar figure of Kokopelli etched in one of the bars glass windows. I wonder how many people realize that symbol is out of place? Most people probably don’t even notice it, the Heineken beer can wind chime sticks out a little more.

The bus rides here are a lot of fun. Ecuador does not have rolling hills, they have rolling mountains. Really gorgeous scenery here.

The rest of the night I spent hanging out with the family in our living room chatting about this and that. I had my first gardening class (had a choice of dancing, crafts, cooking, music and gardening) the next morning early and didn’t want to be too tired.

July 3rd, Saturday

Class consisted of mixing terra firma and whatever poop people brought (cow or guinea pig) to make good soil for planting. We planted radishes in a tire and cut up water bottles. Pretty cool, should be ready in three weeks. At this altitude things grow at about half the speed they would at sea level due to lack of oxygen.

Finished up early and had time to run to a restaurant to catch the rest of the Argentina world cup game. They got spanked by the Germans, bummer. Then it was time to go back to the house to watch the next game with the family. Again, South America was defeated. Only one team left from this soccer breathing continent!

Took a quick nap.

I was awoken by a phone call from another volunteer (lives in another town) who was in Cayambe wondering if there was anything cool to do here. “Sure, let me call you back in 5.” I asked my host brother and he told me we were heading to another bull riding event (of course!). So we picked up my friend in the family truck and headed to the square.

Today for one reason or another we got VIP treatment. We were on the same stable-er platform as the announcer and people drinking wine from a bottle (rare). We enjoyed the spectacle of amateur bullfighters and the two dumb gringo tourists who were in the rink for awhile, until... Snap! A bull blew out his right hind knee (I had a lot of sympathy for the bull, having blown out my knee before). Just like a wounded soldier, the bull still trudged on trying to complete his task walking on the leg. The announcer instantly boomed of the loud speaker to leave to bull alone while they tried to get it out of the arena. It can be a cruel sport, but the Ecuadorians are not cruel about it.

Dinner time! Connor (the previous volunteer who lived with the family) and I made burritos for the whole family. We even made guacamole which came out pretty darn good! The family enjoyed the dish; however I think we enjoyed it more since we had seconds!

After dinner it was time to head back to the square where the rodeo was held for the night’s festivities. Since we had left they had erected (hehe) a stage and the vendors (beer, liquor and food on sticks) had moved in. The opening act was a typical Hollywood equation. Big boobed singer in a skimpy outfit who can’t sing + flamboyantly gay back up dancers = money. The second act, no frills added, kicked ass. Just a bunch of guys with their instruments who know how to play them. The night went on as such, act after act, beer after beer, until my $7 dwindled to the $1 reserved for the cab home.

Slept like a baby.

July 4th, Happy birthday USA!

Woke up at 8, parade time (not for Independence day )! Stuck around ‘til 11 when the time came for me to bugger off to party with my fellow Americans. Picked up hotdog buns and ketchup to contribute to the fun. I had 30 minutes to kill before I had to meet up with my group mates to catch the bus, so I did what everyone else would. Blasted Bruce Springsteen’s “born in the USA” and Zac Brown’s “Chicken fried” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4ujS1er1r0 (copy and paste the link if you havent heard the song) and other patriotic songs in my room.

The rain did not damper the spirits when we arrived at the party (in the middle of a soccer field, but of course). However we were having a tough time getting the grill going, the charcoal (homemade) did not want to light. After several failed attempts. I asked a nice local couple if they would help us. Ten minutes later, we had full blown charcoal burning fire. They were served the first two hamburgers, naturally. Then came kick ball, which was hilarious due to mild inebriation, inadequate footwear and mud. The rule for the team in the field was you had to have a drink in hand at all times, this made fielding and catching balls very difficult. Good times. This was probably quite the spectacle for anyone who saw us. Which was luckily not too many people because we were tucked away in a small corner of an even tinnier town.

Home by 8, asleep 10 minutes later. Buenas noches!

June 29th, Tuesday The class work is interesting to me and my fellow volunteers; however I am sure you wouldn’t find it all that interesting. There, I talked a little bit about what we do during the day. As sun the crested the edge of the earth (my attempt at being poetic)… I was informed that we had to go to the bull riding event. Laundry was put on hold. Walter (my host brother, 21), Ping (no he’s not asian, 16), Orlando (age unknown, presumably older than the author) and myself (age 23, but still laughs at farts) walked around the bleachers looking for a ‘safe’ ladder to climb up to view the event. The “safe” ladder we found still made me feel uneasy climbing. The old planks of wood that were lashed together with safety wire that served as our platform also made me feel a bit worrisome. Oh well, you only die once I suppose. Once atop the outer rim of the square arena, I didn’t see what I expected to see. A bunch of guys (30 or so) of all ages just hanging out like they were at a park, some had bull fighting capes others had lassos and others were sharing beers. The loud speaker kicked on and the familiar voice of Garth Brooks was echoing in the arena. This made me laugh out loud and Walter required an explanation. I had a much easier time explaining the next song “tequila makes her clothes fall off” because I could mime it (the few army guys next to us found this hilarious). Showtime! I decided not to ask what is going to happen and to just be surprised by whatever was about to happen. A rider, accompanied by a very pissed off bull came barreling out of the gate into the mass of people! The rider was holding for dear life on to a strap around the bull’s stomach while the bull tried to kick him off, as well as gore the fans in the arena. Good thing about these bulls is they are not as big as back in the States (steroids are expensive) and they are not as fast. The men armed only with capes and a drunken sense of matador-ism tried their hand at the dangerous game. Unlike back in the good old US of A where you only have to stay on for 8 seconds, here you hold on for as long as possible! Once the rider either jumped off or was kicked off, it was amateur lasso hour. The men would try to rope the bull and drag it off the arena so the next rider could have a turn on their bull. There were a couple of close calls where the bulls came close to people, at least enough so to elevate the heart beat of the crowd. The newly crowned Senorita Cayambe was introduced and stood up about three feet from where we standing. Apparently she has good taste in ladders as well; it also explained the military presence. For the next event 6 barrels were rolled out and two columns of three were set up. What the hell is going to happen now? Two riders on horseback came out, lined up and started circling their respective sets of barrels (Wikipedia it, my explanation sucks). This was mildly entertaining. Before the next race, a fight broke out in one the corners of the arena. Which in turn, caused everyone to flock to it like flies to light. This annoyed one of the riders who apparently had some place to be after his race. So he rode his horse right into the heart of the crowd like a sheriff in the old west with a complete disregard of human life. The crowd quickly and wisely dispersed and the race happened without another hitch. Then the bull riders were back on. One bull in particular stood out. He was big and mean looking. I turned my head for just a second, and when I looked back he had a guy between his horns off the ground. The guy hung on to horns like handle bars for about 10 seconds before he somehow wrangled his way out of the situation unharmed to cheers from the crowd. Phew! Unfortunately or fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, depending on personal level of sickness. June 30th, potential laundry day, take 6. Class. Ate Chinese food for lunch. Came home and found Jose and Walter building a new chicken coop. Procrastination being my middle name, I lent a hand and we just about finished up by dark. Now it was time to wash my clothes. I never, ever, as long as I live want to hear anyone who owns a washing machine bitch about doing laundry. I will take a flight home just to smack you. It took me two hours, 120 minutes or 7200 seconds to hand wash my clothes (not even all of them). Step one; soak dirty clothes in a painters bucket (without paint) and detergent. Now take each item out, place it on the cement block. Scrub it with some kind of soap (?) and rinse and repeat until the water squeezed from it was crystal clear. Then ring it out and toss into another bucket that needs to go up two flights of creaky wooden steps to the roof to be put on clothes lines. This washing room is right in the middle of a stairwell that leads to several apartments. So this gringo man (double wammy) washing clothes was a source of a good laugh for some of the residents. The general consensus was that I need to either pay an equatorian woman to do it or marry one. I can’t afford either of the options on the Peace Corps. budget. So I am shit out of luck in the laundry department. I hope I get placed in a nudist colony. My stomach started hurting right before I ate dinner with the family. I told them where I ate for lunch, and I got the reaction no wants when you tell them were you just ate. Apparently the restaurant is “muy mal, muy mal” translation, “you’re fucked if you just ate there.” I only ate rice for dinner… July 1st, This month started off with a BANG! Chinese food. Never again will I trust you. 4:30pm, just as class was about to end and I was to head home, rain. Good thing my clothes were not drying on the roof, wait, shit. I will smell for yet another day, sorry Cayambe.

Monday June 28, 2010

Today was spent working on our PACA project, a four part presentation. First, was a map of our community noting all the important places. Second, we had to talk about the 24 hour life of an Ecuadorian man, woman and child. The third part was FREESOP, an acronym for Family, Religion, Education, Economy, Salud (health), organizations and politics. The last part was similar to the previous, but also went into internal funds and external funds. This project was to help us get a better understanding of the resources around our communities that we can utilize. This project was an example of what we will have to do once we are finished with our training and in our sites (where we will be working for the next two years).

I finally (last volunteer to do so) called home. I felt like a bad son because all the other trainees have called home several times, and some are in almost daily contact with their parental units.

My response for when I was asked why I have not called my parents was simple, “I don’t want to get yelled at for wasting time.” For those of you who know my loving parents, this is not a surprising response. They love me and are very supportive of my adventure. However, they want me to live it up and not waste money calling them all the time. They say it’s because they want me to be out having fun, but the real reason is because now that I am gone they are going to go on all these fun and elegant vacations with Catherine to faraway lands (hopefully to a safer places this time!).

Anyways, when I got home I somehow ended up teaching my host brother guitar. He is a great student who listens to all my instructions and is very patient while I look up every other word in my dictionary to explain his errors or what that part of the guitar is.

After killing an hour of time, I was expecting to learn a new trade myself, hand washing clothes. However, Carlota came running into the house explaining that she had to whip up a quick dinner and then we had to go to the fireworks! These people love fireworks, a lot. Fine with me, what guy doesn’t enjoy watching stuff go up in flames while risking his own life (over exaggeration… sort of)?

Washing clothes will have to wait for yet, another day.

We went to a different park than the rodeo for the fireworks show, one that I had only driven by, and we took our place atop a cement structure five feet tall with very steep sides. Why go into all the detail about the structure you might be asking? Because not long after we arrived, all the boys 13 and under began a very unsafe yet entertaining game of “King of the hill.” Globally, boys are the same. I must admit, after almost being knocked over several times I almost wanted to join in and show them whose boss.

Finally the announcer came on and introduced the pre-show band. A few minutes into their first song, lights out. Darkness swept over the crowd of excited people like a blanket. However the panic that I expected, never occurred and neither did the “boo’s.” Everyone just stood around waiting for the show to get back on track. After about 20 minutes or so, the mortar rounds started up and the show began.

Fast forwarding to the good stuff about an hour later after the first firework show…

VACA LOCA!

Recipe time folks! Take one person (usually a guy, probably borracho) and have him carry over his head the frame of a cow for about 10-15 minutes. Wait, I am forgetting something… Oh yeah! Attach a crap load of fireworks, bottle rockets, whizzers, bangers and every other kind of pyrotechnics available, light it up and stand back, and enjoy!

“If no one perishes during the month long festival, it wasn’t that good.”- Local saying

Another boring day in the Peace Corps. time for bed.

June 29th, 2010

Presented our projects, hooray! Got more of your tax dollars to buy food, pay rent and buy cheap beer, hooray!

Hopefully learning to wash clothes, boring.

Scratch that.

Literally as I was writing that sentence my host brother informed me that there is a bull riding event tonight. Guess I will have to smell for another day.

Chao!

June 25th, 2010

It was hard to sit still in class today, not because of my self-diagnosed restless leg syndrome but because tonight was part of the fiesta de san pedro.

At the parade with my host family and there previous volunteer (Connor) another volunteer Bob met up with us to join in on the festivities. There were people doing all sorts of crazy styles of dancing followed closely by cars with huge speakers on top blasting traditional music. Boxed wine was readily available for all dancers, and of course a float carrying the candidates for Ms. Cayambe was present too. This was followed by a very non-traditional Ecuadorian dinner of pizza and beer.

This was followed by even more beer in the square (were the rodeo would be held tomorrow) while standing around grooving to the sound of horns, pan flutes, guitars and singing.

Then it was time for fireworks. The best description of it takes the form of a recipe… Take the fourth of July, build a huge tower with fireworks attached (some not very well), remove government safety standards of distance required between fireworks and spectators (who are intoxicated) and to top it off, put it in a square surrounded completely by buildings. Now you have yourself a real show.

On the tower built of wood… (oh by the way, it spins around) for one reason or another it also had a life-sized fake car on the top. For the grand finally (or so I thought, Once again, don’t assume) the wheels lit up and spun around spitting sparks and from the top of the car shot wimpy bottle rockets.

We were about a hundred yards away and I still felt too close. Every once and awhile one of the fireworks, instead of shooting up, shot right into the crowd (my personal favorite). The whole while this was happening the band played a song the built up along with the firework show, pretty neat.

About an hour or so later after more dancing, the lit the tower up again. I wasn’t very impressed until I heard what I thought were mortar rounds exploding on top of a nearby building. This was what I was waiting for, the big bad boy fireworks we see in the states! However instead of looking at them from a safe distance, we were looking straight up at them as the ash fell on us!

The night continued with more dancing and we left 1am but it was still in full swing. These people love to dance!

June 26th, 2010

Chuchaky, the Quechua word for hung-over.

After a slow start my host brother and I made it out to the parade by about 9am. There were policemen doing gymnastic flips and what not as well as doing tricks on their motorcycles. Pretty neat, but I was anxiously awaiting the start of the lazo del torros.

This is where three men on horseback and one man on foot (loco) try to rope a bull and hog tie it. The lasso throwing guys on horse backs receive points for roping the bull around the horns to subdue it (only two tries though) and less if they just rope the neck. If they successfully rope the bull, they then have three minutes to tie it up (not an easy task).

Now these bulls do not just stand idly by and let this happen. They often chased the horses, the men on foot and the one dumb stray dog that wondered into the ring. One of the bulls was particularly intent on goring the horses, and eventually succeeded in plunging one of his horns into the stomach of one unfortunate horse. The rider quickly rode the horse of through a gate, but we could see intestines spilling out through the horn sized hole. This did not receive cheers; it was a point of sadness. The people here do not want to see this happen, however if you play with bulls it is an expected thing at some point.

I was informed by the woman next to me that it is an easy fix. Simply shove the intestines back in and sew up the wound. I am no vet but I feel like it is a tad more complicated than that.

This proved to be too much for most of the group I was with (other Peace Corps. people) so we headed out to a bar to watch the USA play Ghana.

There is no need to recap the game, we all knows what happened.

I called it an early night and studied some Spanish before going to bed.

Chao!

June 21st, 2010. First day of school

Arrived 8am sharp at the house of one of the other Peace Corps. (Cuerpo del Paz) trainee’s casa for our first day of class (hence the title of the entry, duh Tristan). There are six of us total, including our Ecuadorian teacher, Diana. 8 hours later, when class was finally finished, I wish I had learned Spanish years ago (it was fun, be mentally brutal).

Key take a-ways today were:

1. The weather in Cayambe is “like a woman” because it is always changing. It can be torrential down pour one minute then white-people skin melting hot the next

2. Good internet connection can be found in Cayambe

3. Return the glass bottle of Coca-cola to the store post consumption

June 22nd, 2010

Yes, you can get sunburned on a cloudy day.

On a quick visit back to my casa to retrieve my camera during class time, I found my host Madre standing next to the house by the fenced in compound that I did not think they owned (never assume anything in this country). She beckoned me inside and I was very surprised with what I found.

Chained to the wall, surrounded by a wide variety of farm animals that I did not know they owned, was the god damn rooster with the 3 hour early internal alarm clock. This rooster thinks dawn breaks at 330am, and it does not because I checked. I was up again at 6am for run (still not adjusted to altitude) and the sun had just come up.

As I was about to go tell the time challenged creature (with the heel of my shoe) I was given valuable information from Jose. This was a fighting rooster, he showed me by sticking his foot within the radius of the rooster and the thing went Jackie Chan on it. So I let bygones be bygones and moved on to the more cuddly creatures such as guinea pigs (food), rabbits (food), pigs (food), the dog named lion (food in other areas of the country) and a young cat (probably dog food later in its life).

I inquired to when the next cock fight was and apparently it is this Sunday. I might have to miss church again for yet another, “cultural experience.” I also learned that Saturday afternoon is a bullfight in the ring only 4 blocks from my house. Get to check that off the list soon!

In other news, I get to learn to wash clothes by hand later this week and maybe, hopefully, get to see a world cup game live.

June 23rd, 2010

Today was filled with group activities and more information that needs to be crammed into our heads. The information consisted of personal safety, what to eat, what to say (more importantly what not to say) and other stuff I still need to learn.

After a long day of learning it was nice to come to my host family and kick the soccer ball around the street with my host brother Walter. It was also nice to hear and see the highlights of the USA world cup game. USA!!!

June 24th, 2010

Another day of group activities… However today we were also spoiled with a lively presentation about tape worms, hook worms, round worms, mosquitoes, diarrhea and other such fun things. The medical officer made the presentation entertainingly gross and requested that if any of us get a round worm, to take a picture and send it to her so she can add it to her photo album. I don’t think she was kidding. Then it was time for lunch. Awesome.

After class, 20 or so of the now 67 (previously 68 volunteers) stuck around to play some futbol. We played for about 40 min on a small field at half speed, but my heart was racing like we were sprinting for miles, as was everyone else’s. For the locals watching, it probably only furthered the stereotype that Americans are fat and lazy. Stupid altitude. Hopefully by the end of next week we will all be adjusted, and marginally better futbol players.(My room)

Ecuador blog 6/17/10

We arrived last night in Quito, Ecuador. Stepping off the plane on to the tarmac for that anticipated first deep breath of new world, I was surprised by the lack of satisfaction. Quito rests some 9,000 feet above sea level and needless to say my 75 lbs of checked luggage, carry on, and guitar left me short of breath. Plowing through security with the greatest of ease, facilitated by the in-country staff, all sixty eight of us were split onto two separate charter buses. One designated for the Youth and Family program and the other for the Community Health volunteers.

Upon arriving at our hostel we were split into rooms with four people in each. Though it has the title of Hostel, it far surpasses the average expectation. With a spacious dining room, game room (the pool table only has six balls though, can’t have everything I suppose), beautiful tile flooring complimented nicely by the open air courtyard separating all the rooms.

We were fed a traditional dish before calling it an early night.

6/18/10

7am breakfast consisting of toast, scrambled eggs, jam and fresh cheese whose animal origins remain unknown, but speculatively delicious.

We boarded the buses full of good food and excitement. Our destination was the Peace Corps headquarters for a full day of information, immunization shots (I only needed a rabies boosters, others suffered a worse fait of up to five shots), program information, mug shots (so the staff could identify us). Oh, and how could I forget our surprise Spanish oral placement test! ( I think I did well!)

The local and foreign staff are some of the most kind and welcoming people I have had the pleasure of meeting! I am really excited to begin our work here and get done with the next few days filled paper work and information sessions!

Ciao for now!

Tristan

Saturday June 19th, 2010

We departed Quito to head to our separate host families located in Cayambe ( a smaller city about an hour and a half north by bus). The scenery outside the bus was breathtaking; cliffs and valleys and colorful homes. The previous night we were placed into groups of 4-5 based on language skills and scattered about the area to live host families (one trainee per host family). I have a decent grasp of the Spanish language and was still very nervous to be thrown off of bus into a culture where English isn’t spoken and told, “see you Monday for class” which of course, was said in Spanish.

My host parents however, put my mind at ease. Jose and Carlota could not be nicer people and have been hosting Peace Corps. (Cuerpo de paz) trainees for years. Their house is connected to the back of the shop where the kitchen and living room reside. The living quarters are up a spiral staircase.

I do not consider myself a tall person by any means. However here, I worry about hitting my head on low ceilings and my feet stick off the end of the bed (Alex would be in real trouble!)

My host brother who is 21 was very enthusiastic about my arrival (as was the rest of the family). After a very filling lunch of soup, rice, papas fritas (Freedom fries), chicken and some veggies we headed out the Fiesta de Rosas. One of the town’s main exports is, and has been flowers. So every year they have a big festival which includes parades of people dancing and a few on horseback. Some of these cabelleros had vodka bottles in hand and made it apparent that it was not the first of the day and it was only 1pm. The atmosphere was fun, loud and full of Cayambe pride.

Rain is a frequent thing in Cayambe and it does not seem to bother people, merely inconvenience them. After the parade we headed to a “rally” with “carros.” So I thought maybe they mean rally cars, but no I had to be mistaken, how could that redneck stuff make it down here?

It has, and it is awesome! We watched ATVs, trucks, motorcycles and at one point a lose cow speed around the muddy dirt track for a few hours. Then it was back home for another filling meal and bed time. İ Buenas noches!

Sunday June 20th, 2010

We to start, today royally kicked ass. I set my alarm for 7am thinking that would be sufficient, it wasn’t. At 6:37 am I awoke the sounds of Spanish rock blasting from below and it was time to start the day. Grabbed my camera and a quick swig of what I hoped was boiled water in the jug on the table and we were off.

Myself, my two host brothers and Jose climbed into his truck and headed off into the hills to a secluded, fenced in dirt futbol field. The field was up a long winding hill about a mile and half. At the bottom a bunch of guys just hopped in the truck (much like in Africa) and up we went. I later found out that they were some of the rival team’s players, but no animosity was shown.

The game was very entertaining and taken very seriously. However, I had trouble holding back laughs when the occasional dog would take a nap on the field or chase a stray candy wrapper around. Some of the dogs were so revved up about the game they felt the need to procreate on the sidelines. The game ended in a tie, which I thought was good since it started off with them losing 2-0, but they wanted the win.

When we got home around 11am we ate breakfast. Then suddenly Carlota grabs here jacket and says “vamos!” So naturally I say “un momento,” run and grab my camera. I find out in the packed car, seat belts available and unused, we were heading to the races.

Yesterday’s races were fun, but I did not want to watch dune buggies again for another four hours with 30 other personas. But today was Sunday, which in Cayambe means “race day.” It was like being at a Nascar™ tailgate. We backed the two pickups right against the barbed wire fence intended to hold back spectators. And the next thing I know I see three beefed up off road trucks barreling down the track at full throttle through thick mud and flinging it everywhere, including my pants and jacket. Heaven. Apparently Cayambe is Spanish for “middle of Tennesse.”

During the race we all shared a couple of beers. It is tradition to have only one cup amongst friends. One person pours the drink, passes it to someone who drinks the small glass of beer and then flings the foam left in the cup on the ground and passes it back. (screw grammar it’s a blog)

Some of the trucks got stuck in the gargantuan mud pits and relied on the ingenuity of the fans to set them free (all attempts failed). What proved most effective and entertaining was the back-ho. I felt bad for the driver as he tried to drag the stuck racers our, he was receiving contradicting instructions from about fifty different fans and drivers who were convinced they knew better.

They say pictures are worth a thousand words. I just wrote 223 on the subject and barely scratched the awesomeness that is Ecuadorian off road racing.

Tomorrow is the first day of our intense Spanish tutoring. I am excited to see my fellow group members and hear their stories of their first few days.

I leave tomorrow, June 15th 2010, to start my life as a Peace Corps. volunteer in Ecuador.

I am very glad that I got to see most of my family and friends in the past few weeks. Thank you for everything, and I will be sure to frequently post updates and pictures to keep you informed (or amused)!

Peace out!

Tristan John Schreck