I promised myself I would start blogging more regularly.... and here its been 2 months since my last blog. What can I say, I blame dial up.

I went home for Christmas and got to meet Ella June, aka Junebug, aka Ella Bella, aka my new niece. She is too adorable and I am going to miss her as well as my brother and Miranda dearly for the 2 years they will be living in Japan. I spent good QT with my family and friends. And in a way, coming back here, although difficult to get on a plane again, I was at peace. Being home was like never leaving. I felt like I hardly missed a beat. My friends were still my friends, my family still the same as when I left, everyone complaining about the wonderful snow; all the same.

Since being back, work has been slow. School is out until March and Puerto Limon has become somewhat of a ghost town. "Reconnect", a weeklong seminar for volunteers after a few months in site, was held in Quito at the end of January. My counterpart, Paola, went with me and we were able to get some really good ideas about new project we can start as well as learn about writing grants and fundraising for projects. And, I was in Quito with all my Peace Corps friends, so despite getting food poisioning again at the beginning of the week, we managed to have a pretty fabulous time.

Tomorrow, I begin teaching Taebo (they have no concern for copywright laws in Ecuador and when I try and call it Cardio kickboxing, I get corrected) at a gym in Santo Domingo. If everything works out, I will get a free membership for teaching 1-2 days a week. And trust me, I need it. Talking to my mom the other day, I said, You know, I think collectively between me and my girlfriends we have gained the weight of a 16 year old girl, strap that on your a@s... It just shouldn´t happen that way. Gaining weight, losing hair, should not be part of the Peace Corps experience. But I didn´t write the rules.

Some sad news, as of late. A friend of mine from North Conway passed away last Thursday. His untimely death was difficult to deal with being so far away, but it lacks in comparison to what his family and close friends must be going through. I have realize the importance of getting people together when someone passes to reflect on the good times and to celebrate life. Here, the Catholic Latin American culture teaches we are not responsible for our destiny. Our date of death is determined at your date of birth and there is nothing we can do to change that fact. Fate vs. Free Will. This is something I cannot wrap my finger around. I don´t believe you should spend your life destroying your body and taking unnecessary risks because you have no say as to when your time is up. When I start thinking about it too long my head starts to hurt (must be my state school education). So, although I cherish my Ecuadorian friends here after about the tenth person who said to me, "That is God´s will. He was supposed to die now," I packed up some clothes and spent the weekend with another Peace Corp Volunteer, Aquila, where I could talk about freely how death sucks.... Today is the funeral and to all my friends attending know you are in my thoughts and prayers through this difficult time. And of course, to Lumpa: At our loss, heaven is gaining a wonderful man.

Cliff Jumping.. or walking on water

New Years Eve Crew I dont have any more patience for pictures today. In 30 min. Ive uploaded 2 and the quality is terrible. I will try and find a computer with faster internet and post more tomorrow. Chau!

I hope everyone is having a very happy and relaxing holiday season! It really means so much to me that I will be able to spend it with my family after not seeing them for 6 months. The holidays really are just about spending time with the people you love, and who love you too (and maybe some spiked eggnog or Puritan mudslides!). I am just anxiously awaiting the moment when I get to meet my new niece, Ella June! Pictures are nice, but to be able to hold and smell and touch her will be so, so incredible.

I apologize for not keeping up with the blog in recent months. I will try and catch up as best I can, without being too boring. I have lived in Puerto Limon for a little over 3 months now. Time goes fast and slow here. I know that is really vague, but really true. Like everything in my life here, it’s one extreme or the other. It’s very hard to find balance in the middle (I’m told that will come with time, still waiting….). My days are usually really good, or really bad. But, even though the bad days come, they never last, and unfortunately, vica versa. For example, this week I had a really great Wednesday; a man fixed the charger for my computer for $3 when everyone else tried to rip me off, I sat in the mall food court and listened to Christmas music in English, I ran 8 miles for the first time since my last half marathon (more on that later!). I was happy. That night, however, I couldn’t sleep and felt tired and lethargic on Thursday; I felt like my Spanish didn’t make sense all day and I couldn’t understand anyone either, I went to a meeting that no one showed up to (happens quite a bit here!), and ended up getting into bed at 5pm and calling it a day. I had lunch with a Peace Corps friend today who explained it like this, “While we’re in the Peace Corps, we are all bipolar!” I couldn’t agree with her more! I just hope it doesn’t continue after Peace Corps.

Chris and Greg in Ecuador

Rewinding to October, I had my first visitors. They actually weren’t here to see me, more to explore South America, and had come to Ecuador to climb the mountain...hold on, let me get this correct… that is the closest point to the sun on Earth, Chimborazo, who’s summit is just over 20,000 feet. Shortly after, they accomplished Chim, I met them in Quito for some celebrating. It wasn’t the best time for visitors, as I was still in the “probation period” and wasn’t supposed to leave my site, but we were able to spend about a week together, nevertheless. Chris is a friend from New Hampshire and his travel buddy, Greg, was his friend who runs a computer consulting business out of Southern Florida. We spent a couple nights in Quito where we dined on as close to American food as you can get in Ecuador, had some drinks and did some dancing, as well as my personal favorite, went to the casino. The boys were not so fond of me when I put $5 into a penny slot machine. You know how long it takes to lose $5 at penny slots? I don’t know either. They dragged me out when I had about $3.50 left.

Our next adventure was Banos, which is a very touristy town in the valley of the Tungarahua Volcano, which is said to be active right now, but they have been saying that for the past 10 years. If it does erupt, it will dump tons of lava in the streets of Banos in minutes, completely destroying the town. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen at least for the next year and a half! Getting off the bus in Banos proved to be a bigger ordeal than any of us had hoped. Tired and weary from the 4 hour trip, Greg’s backpack with his computer and passport was left on the bus. By the time we had realized 5 minutes later, the bus was long gone. That bag wouldn’t be there even if this was the US, so we knew we had little hope in finding it. Turns out, we had gotten off at the last stop and sure enough, after a wild goose chase all over the Oriente, which lasted a good 12 hours, we cornered the bus driver’s assistant, the adalante, and he finally admitted he had taken it off the bus the night before. BUT not before agreeing to a $200 bribe for telling us where it was. So with an Ecuadorian police officer present, Greg got his bag back. To which the officer then asked Greg, don’t you want to give this man a reward for “watching” your bag? Greg reluctantly handed the adalante $200 for his OWN bag, and the adalante turned and gave the cop at least $50 of it. Latin American corruption at its finest.

Not wanting to spoil our trip to this beautiful place, later that day we took bikes from Banos toward Puyo, a town probably about 45 miles or so away. The ride is mostly downhill and you get to pass these unbelievable waterfalls and ride through tunnels where you can’t see a foot in front of you! I’d recommend it to anyone coming to Ecuador. In fact, I’d go with you. Again and again.

Bike Ride from Banos to Puyo.. Amazing Cascadas

Greg Crossing a not so safe Ecua bridge

Chris at the entrance to one of the tunnels

Pause

So I just took a break from writing this to go for a quick run since it was starting to get dark. (Did I mention in Ecuador the sun rises and sets at the same time everyday all year long? Never changes. I’m already bored. No seasons. No snow L ) Anyway, on my way back from my run I passed the park near my house and there was a small dead dog in the road. Presumably, it got hit by a car. So, I finished my run and walked back to the crime scene to take a closer look. Now if I saw a dead dog in the road in the states, it would tear me up. You hate to see that kind of stuff. But here, we have enough stray dogs to wipe out world wide famine. They are everywhere. So as I am watching another similar looking dog approaches the dead one. It was trying to push the dog, or move it, and all of a sudden I became really sad. I’m thinking, even this stray dog has a mother and its mother doesn’t understand why her child won’t wake up. My eyes were about to start watering when I looked underneath the dog… This wasn’t the dead dog’s mother at all! I was staring at a pink colored hot dog sticking out from the dog’s underside. That’s when it started. The obviously male dog began trying to have sex with the dead dog in the road. My look of sadness changed to a look of horror, as some Ecua men watched rooting the dog on! I thought, as I turned back to my house in disgust, sometimes the gap between man and dog is closer than man and ape, at least here in Ecuador.

Back to visiting Ecuador.. I think Chris and Greg had a good time while they were here. After Banos, we were able to visit a good friend of mine, Clay, another Peace Corps volunteer, who lives about 10 miles from me but lives in an incredibly indigenous community called the Tsachilas. Their history is long and they practice traditions as their ancestors did years ago. It’s really, really spectacular to see. They do have at least 1 TV in their community and electricity in a few of the cabins, but they try to stay isolated and keep their traditions. Unfortunately, their numbers are dwindling rapidly as Tsachilas are marrying Mestizos and younger generations don’t want to keep up the traditions that define their culture. On our visit, we were given traditional Tsachila skirts to wear and at night, we were cleansed by their Shaman. Soon after, we left the Tsachilas, it was time for Greg and Chris to embark on their next journey, Bogotá, Colombia, ending our week of travel and fun.

Clay with the Tsachila ninas.

Greg and Chris in Traditional Tsachila Garb drinking coconut milk

At the end of October, about 70 Peace Corps Ecuador volunteers and friends met in a little town in the Oriente called El Chaco for a Halloween/rafting party. I did not go rafting, due to some paperwork I failed to file ahead of time, but I did have a good time Halloweening. Everyone’s costumes were super creative. Myself included. My good friend, Alea and I decided to be the staples of Ecuadorian food, rice and potatoes. (you will not be served a meal in Ecuador without one of the two, or maybe both if your lucky… even at breakfast) So, she was rice. I was potatoes. I unfortunately only managed to stay awake until 11:30 pm, just when the party was getting started. 27 has really done a number on me.

Alea and I as Rice and Potatoes

Me, Kristen, and Alea

WORKING, If You Can Call It That

I realize I am only writing about times I am not in Puerto Limon. I should focus a bit on why the hell Im here, because sometimes I question it. Currently, I teach a dance team of about 12 girls, ages 9-11. That is the most regular thing I do so I thought I’d mention it first. I teach other dance classes too, but not as frequently, and I never know who is going to show up, if anyone at all. I really enjoy teaching my dance girls, but they want what most of us want, the result without the work. And some of them have never danced before in their life, so it’s challenging sometimes to say the least.

But, I did not travel thousands of miles from home to teach dance, as fun as that may sound. I am a health volunteer so I occasionally give lectures on nutrition and hygiene, mostly. (Why eating potatoes with rice over pasta isn’t the greatest food choice you could make.) I say occasionally, because I am still embarrassed sometimes about my Spanish. I always think of the times I have seen a group of foreigners at an amusement park in the States and they are taking a picture holding up the peace sign, speaking broken English. The same thing goes though most peoples head in that instant: that these people are somehow less intelligent that yourself or your colleagues. When in actuality we have no idea. They could have just invented a computer program, sold it to Bill Gates, and took their whole company to Disneyworld to celebrate. But it’s the initial image that sticks with us. That is how I feel here. People treat me, talk to me, talk about me like I am a stupid, rich, American girl who gets nauseous at the site of raw meat hanging in the front of stores. (which has happened) So, I practice my Spanish with people I can trust in the community. And its getting better. And I am gaining confidence. And I will be giving a lot more lectures on the importance of the basic food groups soon enough J

I also meet with a group of jovenes (teenagers), who actually want to create change and challenge ideas and custom that people follow because that is just how its always been. Like trash for instance. Puerto Limon is a beautiful town in the rainforest (I know Dad, rainforest is a madeup word.. Jungle 2), but its filthy. People have no idea, no concept, that throwing trash on the ground is unsightly, dirty, and unsanitary. When I have questioned litterers, they say, that is just our custom. I say…. bull. So my jovenes and I are in the process of creating a Limpia La Limon dia (clean the lemon day, as in Puerto Limon) I’ll let you know how it works out. Something tells me it’s going to be me and my jovenes cleaning up the streets of Puerto Limon solo. But we shall see.

I’m also in the process of surveying 50 families in my town about various issues and problems to see what I need to focus on most. There are a lot of pregnant 15 year olds, so I think that will definitely be a start. And for a town of 2000 people, we have 2 whorehouses. I think, along with littering, that should be a custom that needs to die, quickly. Some of the prostitutes have already tested positive for HIV, but yet they are still in business. Maybe it’s something in the water down here?

This is trash dumped off the side of a road right in front of my house leading down to the river. Many birds, iguanas, and other wildlife are frequent visitors.

Siempre Atras, Nunca Adalante.

Back to fun time Ecua style. The province I live in is called Santo Domingo de los Tsachilas. It is also the name of the capital of the province as well as the cluster I’m in. Basically, my cluster is made up of maybe 8 volunteers that all live near Santo Domingo, we get our mail there, shop there, and occasionally have “cluster” meetings. Our last one was in Mindo, a wonderful little town infamous for its bird watching, nature walks, and artesian. While there, we went zip lining over a beautiful canopy in the jungle. Since I have done zip lining many times before, I decided I was experienced enough to video tape my voyage across the canyon. Halfway through I almost dropped my camera and with one hand grabbed it and the other touched the cable in front of me. Of course, I ran over my finger with the wheel and harness I was strapped into. I was wearing gloves so when I finally got to the other side the attendant slowly pulled off my glove in case the tip of my finger was detached… I kid you not. Luckily, all I got was a cut and a bruised ego for trying to act like an expert. But I guess I was very lucky because, as the attendant told me, the same thing had happened his friend and ten minutes later he was on the way to the hospital with his detached fingers on ice! So siempre atras, nunca adalante. (always in back never in front) should your hands be when touching the cable. I won’t forget that lesson anytime soon! But we had a great time in Mindo nevertheless. I sorta can’t believe they place volunteers there at all. It’s a big tourist stop and one I will frequent upon the arrival of more friends and family.

Me and Sam at a waterfall near Mindo, in her site, Pacto

The Zip Lining Crew

Quito Marathon and Cows Blood with Thanksgiving

I ran the Quito half marathon in just over 2 hours. Not my best time for a half marathon but besides getting on that plane to Ecuador, was the toughest thing I’ve ever done. Quito is about 10,000 feet above sea level; that is almost double Denver. And if you tried to exercise in Denver without acclimating, it can be difficult. This was downright painful. I stopped talking about mile 2. Which, everyone who knows me when I run, I love LOVE to talk. You can catch up on someone’s whole life during a long run. The one thing that made it bearable was that the whole run was pretty flat, that is, until the last 3 km. There was a huge hill getting to the finish line. I have never seen so many people walk across a finish line in my life, well except maybe during a walk. Sorry its sideways, but you get the idea. Finished the race at the Equator. Midad del Mundo is behind me

I bet your wondering what cows blood has to do with running. Nothing. I just thought I’d speed things up a bit. My hair is falling out. I don’t know why. People say stress, but I highly doubt that because I actually work, like do real work, maybe 15 hours a week. What do I have to be stressed about? Getting food poisioning? Had it twice, not that bad. Some other disease or parasite? Maybe, but its always the ones you aren’t expecting that you get. Living in Ecuador for the rest of my life? Absolutely not. It’s growing on me, but not that much. Could have been diet, because it was poor for the time I wasn’t cooking for myself. But I’ve cooked for myself for the last 3 months and no change. My guess is the water. My hair is thin and vulnerable anyway. Untreated water can’t help it very much. Anyway, when I presented my problem, my host mom assured me she knew a solution. Cow’s blood. It will make my hair thicker and give me the nutrients to prevent my hair from falling out. When in Ecuador…. What do I have to lose? Already lost most my hair (just kidding its not that bad). Pictures are definitely included in this one. I let Carmen put cow’s blood in my hair, cringing as it dripped down my face, onto my clothes, and having to smell it. It smelled like cutting open a fish that was caught yesterday, enough to even now, make my hair stand up on my arms. The worst part, I had to leave it for an hour. So I sat outside looking like something from a Freddy Crugar movie reading my book for an hour until I could wash it out… which I did, for about another hour. Did it work? I am going to have to say no. I admire the valiant effort but I guess I will just have to get used to my tiny little ponytail.

As you can see Thanksgiving is another topic. I believe this blog is long enough, however, so I will try and give the shortest version possible. And, let me just say, if you’ve read through this whole thing from the beginning, you may acquire Saint Status. I had Thanksgiving dinner with about 7 other Peace Corps Volunteers randomly selected to go to the 2ond to the Ambassador’s house. I don’t know what his title is except for Number 2, I guess. Every person who holds this position gets this house as a perk, and what a perk it was! It had an indoor pool, hibachi grille (which they have never used), countless bedrooms, a cook and maids; definitely much different that what we are used to in Ecuador. But, the people who work at the embassy can only hold their position at that specific embassy for 3 years. So before the Chrittons were in Ecuador, they were in Uganda, and before that Chile. AND they have 3 kids. I remember in high school thinking my parents were the most evil people in the world because they wanted me to spend the summers in York Beach. Just the summer. So, I had a great time speaking with their family and learning their family dynamic… you have to be pretty close to you siblings when you only have friends for 3 years at a time. Dinner was spectacular. By far the best meal I’ve had since I’ve been in Ecuador. The Chrittons were so generous to let us into their home and celebrate Thanksgiving with them. It was the first holiday that has passed that I haven’t desperately wanted to be back in the States.

Our Thanksgiving Family

With the good comes the ugly… Later that night, a few of us went to a casino. This time I didn’t play penny slots. I was actually winning at black jack, until I was losing, but that’s beside the point. Afterward we went to meet more friends at a bar in Quito. We stayed there dancing until about 2am. All of us were walking back to the hotel which was only a few blocks away when my friend Ryan asked me if I wanted to stop and get pizza… um of course. Nothing’s better to follow a night of drinking, dancing, and gambling (Granny, I hope your not reading thisJ). With our other friend 3 minutes ahead of us we turned the corner to get to the hotel, and we already felt it before it happened. 2 black Ecuadorian men grabbed Ryan’s shoulder, while another one was approaching me. I did what I do best, I guess. I ran. I ran in high heels as fast as I possibly could. And I guess it was fast enough because when I got to then end of the street no one was behind me. I still had my purse, camera, money, and phone. I jumped in a cab that was turning left to take a man home and tried to explain my situation. I kept looking back and although it was dark, saw Ryan on the ground with the 3 men surrounding him. I told the cabbie to put the cab in reverse because we were on a one way. His response was that it wasn’t his problem and he didn’t want to get involved. I was so mad and so helpless at the same time. Finally, the men ran off and I jumped out of the cab to see Ryan on his feet, yelling in Spanish at a security guard who was standing on the other side of the street as the whole incident took place. He had a gun and a dog but did nothing. He did nothing. He told Ryan his jurisdiction was in front of the building he was standing at, on that specific side of the street. No more. Ultimately, the 3 men weren’t able to rob Ryan. He said every time they would reach for his pockets he would punch them in the balls. Which I guess worked. He has a couple cuts on his face, but they just make him look tough. And he has a pretty incredible story to tell. They may as well make another Rocky movie and call it Rocky Ryan. In all seriousness, questions have come up in my head since the incident. Like, why didn’t they grab me first? I was an easier target. And once they had me, Ryan wasn’t going anywhere. I’m glad I don’t know the answer. But part of me thinks there’s gotta be a guardian angel out there with my name on it!

Anyway, thanks for reading…. Have a Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah. May your guardian angel fly close and may all your dreams come true for 2009.

The Port of Lemons…. (aka Puerto Limon, aka my new home)

I arrived at my new home on Sunday after spending a week in capitol city of Quito. Quito is nothing to write home about when you first get to Ecuador from the states, but trust me, once you travel around and see the rest of Ecuadorian life, Quito becomes nothing shy of spectacular. And in fact, it really is… Because its located in a valley of the Andes mountains its an incredibly long and narrow city. I think someone just told me its 80 km long. It can take you a good hour to get from one end to another. I feel like we sufficiently saw what we needed to during our time there, shopping malls, eating at good restaurants (including sushi!), finding the elusive Dunkin Donuts, and hitting up the Mariscol (the 4 block radius of restaurants, bars, and clubs, which stay open longer than you can keep your eyes open!), to which the locals refer to it as, Gringo Landing, for apparent reasons. Last Friday, myself and 28 other Peace Corps trainees (we have lost a few, not to malaria, mom... they went home for personal reasons) swore in at the Ambassador’s house in Quito. That night, with a bit of liquid courage, I became the winner of Dancing with the Estrellas, Salsa style. But I must tell you, me and my partner Andrew were the only participants. The following day, I managed to get out of bed around 6pm and head to a Mongolian, all you can eat, steakhouse. The cure for being chuchaki (means hungover in Kitchwa, the other language spoken here).

The Party was over by Sunday. I left on a bus to Santo Domingo in the early afternoon with all my luggage, scared shitless I was going to get robbed. I think a lot about getting robbed here, because it happens so frequently. The countless experts; Peace Corps safety commission, the US Marines, Embassy people, tell us that when approached, give the thief what he wants and 99.9% of the time he will then leave you alone. The problem is, I have a hard time believing I will just give up my stuff without a fight. I know myself. No one knows me better than me, and I just don’t believe I will just hand over my personal belongings I’ve worked hard to buy. But more importantly, I have not been lugging 4 suitcases around Ecuador for 3 months, so some jackass can come and take it from me, and then sell it on the street for a fraction of what I paid for it. That’s just rude. Bottom line, statistics tell me, I will probably get robbed in the 2 years I’m here. I feel sorta bad for that unlucky bastard who chooses me. I’m all talk J

So Puerto Limon, 450 meters above sea level in the province of Santo Domingo de Los Tsachilas. The Tsachilas are a rapidly dwindling indigenous group located in the province on separate reservations. I don’t really know a lot about them except they use berries to paint their hair red and to paint lines on their body like a zebra. 2 PCV’s live with them now trying to preserve their culture. I am looking forward to visiting and trying some of their homeopathic medicine, which I heard just makes you drunk so you forget you are sick. That is my kind of remedy!

Anyway, I have decided Puerto Limon is somewhat like that movie Pleasantville. If you haven’t seen it, Reese Witherspoon and Toby Maguire get transported into their TV program which is about a small town in the 50’s, where no one wants or needs to leave or even questions why they would. My movie transported me to a Latino village in the 80’s where blue eyeshadow runs rampant and perms are the latest trend, but other than that the plot seems to be the same. Last night there was a big dance in the town square! Oh how fun! Every sweaty, fat, old man asked me to dance... Actually, no one really asked. They just pulled me. After the 100th time of saying, “No puedo bailar” or “No quiero bailar” (I can’t or don’t want to dance), a boy somewhat close to my age grabbed my hand, which now had an ice cream in it, because if I’m not going to dance, I might as well eat. Anyway, I gave in but before the 15 minute song was up, he traded me to a sweaty, fat, old man for a younger Latina who knew how to shake her caderas (hips). PERFECT! Right back where I wanted to be. It is like being in 7th grade again, only everyone is doing the Salsa or Meringue and the men are most likely wasted. It is not as appropriate for the women to drink here. And since my main objective is to integrate and have people respect me enough to be able to teach, I will hold off on the alcohol consumption, in Puerto Limon anyway. I’m going to try again tonight since dancing is one on the necessary staples for living here. And my alternative is to watch more bootleg movies on my computer (they run about $1.00-$1.50 a piece. I kid you not. Its illegal, but when in Rome…)

Lastly, I did go see a dance recital in my town a couple nights ago. The dancers were terrible, the costumes were hideous, and the dance teacher sorta resembled a dying bird when she danced, but I am ecstatic! The passion is obviously there and it’s a project I can take on immediately. I don’t need to speak perfect Spanish to teach dance either which is great for these first few months where I am having a hard time communicating anyway.

Camera is fixed now but I apologize for the lack of pictures. It wasn’t working for about a month. Miss you all and thanks for taking the time to read my rambling...

The parque near my house in Puerto Limon

On the way to Puerto Limon. Yup, its pretty green.

I almost stepped on this with flipflops. Now he is dead.

Me and Sam practicing for dancing with the stars.

The Paquistancia crew... AKA Pak-Attack and Jav, our Language facilitator.

Swearing in at the Ambassador's House in Quito. Yes, that is me in the yellow, and no, I am not pregnant, I just look that way.

LAURA ECUADORA: first pics then blog....

What I sleep in every nite to keep the bugs away..

Fresh Fish? Maybe. Fried Fish? Definitely.

Darcy getting Couyed at the Witch Doctor... Read below

The witch doctor examining the entrails

Geoff and my pathetic attempt to make pizza. FYI, recipes change with altitude.

Mi Dormitorio.

Our own Fireworks on the Forth!

Bustin a move with Crazy Kristen. She is a funny girl!

Went to Juncal. Got hair braided. Left many strands on the floor as a gift.

The Juncal afro ecuadorian welcome comittee.

Our Hike in the Bosque

Pretty mossey trees

Las cascadas.

WE are FILTHY but had fun. :) Look EM, green sweatshirt!

View is beautiful.

1 month in......

I left almost exactly a month ago.. Feels shorter and longer at the same time. My Spanish has improved dramatically, however I still have quite a ways to go before I am totally comfortable speaking and translating with ease. I get tired and don’t feel like thinking sometimes but I am trying to make a bigger effort knowing that I am going to my site in 6 weeks.

Lately, my life has consisted of language classes as well as tech classes, studying, and trying to find time to hang out with other Peace Corps peeps to stay a little sane. We had our first tech trip last weekend. Tech trips enable us to see different parts of the country while learning as well. Our group went to the town of Ibarra to visit a health clinic that practices western as well as homeopathic medicine. SERIOUSLY homeopathic methods. Darcy, who lives in Paquistancia with me, was picked to have a couy rubbed on her. A couy is a guinea pig. Most all Ecuadorians eat couy. Its gross if you ask me. Its like eating a rat. Needless to say I wont eat one but it doesn’t mean I am running out to kill them either. So, Darcy is getting couyed by this witch doctor meaning that the witch doctor is stretching the couy and hitting it all over Darcy’s body. (She isn’t really a witch doctor but she definitely looked like one) We are all looking on in shock as she is pounding the heck out of this poor defenseless animal. Then she stops, but sees the couy is still moving so she pounds it some more on darcy’s chest. The couy dies, and darcy knows it because its muscles relax and you can imagine what it does all over her shirt. The witch doctor then takes a knife and skins the couy then begins to play with its entrails. The whole, real purpose of this is by looking at this couy the witch doctor is able to tell what ailments the patient (Darcy) may have. By looking at the backbone the witch doctor tells Darcy she has some back pain, and by opening the stomach, again tells Darcy she suffers from stomach pain. Which concludes, either this witch doctor can really look at a dead couy and tell a person’s ailments or she saw Darcy walk in with a big backpack on her shoulders and knowing we are gringos, can pretty much figure that we ALL have stomach ailments. I am going with the latter and have no intention of eating or being couyed while I am here. Later that day, we went to Juncal, an Afro-Ecuadorian community where I got my hair braided for the small price of having most of it fall on the floor! More about Afro-Ecuadorian communities in the next paragraph…

The second day we went to a place called Mascarilla, another Afro-Ecuadorian community. They make these really beautiful masks made out of clay. The history behind the Afro Ecuadorian communities is fascinating. Black people were sent over from Africa a couple hundred years ago when slavery was legal to work in the sugar cane fields. Their ancestors stayed and made up these Afro Ecuadorian campos. Which leads me to my next point I didn’t realize before coming here; There is an incredible amount of discrimination and stereotyping that occurs between different groups of Ecuadorians. The Sierra, where I live now, is the most indigenous and conservative culture. Many Sierrans, including my current host family, talk poorly of the Afro Ecuadorian culture as well as commenting that the people who live on the coast being too liberal (which is EXACTLY why I want to live there). Gender roles are very much defined in the Sierra and double standards take precedence, ie. Its okay for men to drink, smoke, and have concubines, however not the same for women. Brings me back like 200 years!

That day was also the first day I got really sick. Food poisioning. Really not that bad. I was better in a half day, and I treated myself to an hour long massage after for a whopping $15. No lie. I also had fun on the unregulated water slides at the hostel!

Last Friday, we went for a ¨hike¨ in the woods, and by hike I mean 5 hours of walking in Loda (mud) up to my knees. At first I was pretty pissed because I was wearing my only running shoes, but I got over it and it was really fun and really exhausting! I paid my host kids $2 to wash my pants and shoes and they are both as good as new!

One thing I have realized in the past couple weeks, if you want to break a bad habit, go to a Latin American country and let others know of your bad habit. I have this nervous habit where I unknowingly pick at the sides of my cuticles when I am stressed. Learning a new language and moving to a 3rd world country might qualify as stress for some, myself included. Anyway, this habit is no longer an unknowing habit. Every Ecuadorian woman I have gotten within 2 feet of has grabbed my thumbs and exclaimed, “Que lastima!”, which I think translates to something like, “how sad!” You would seriously think I mutilate my body by the comments I have gotten. Yesterday, I was with my friend Geoff and his host family, up in Ibarra, and his host mom and aunt, not only were commenting on my cuticles but they continued to tell me my knuckles were fat. Here I thought I only had a cuticle picking problem. Little did I know I need to start bringing my knuckles to Jenny Craig. It is the culture and it does take some getting used to. If you are fat, people will call you fat. There is no sugar coating. Conversely, if you have a huge ego you need deflated, Ecuador may bring you down a few notches without therapy.

Anyway, I will write more later... I ran to the internet cafe today, so I gotta take the bus back and if Im late its $5 for a cab! Oh yeah, if you run into them, be sure to thank our great president as well as all of congress... They cut Peace Corps funding and we cant go on our next educational tech trip.... which means another week in my beautifully boring town. Oh well, could be worse! Miss you all! Abrazos Y Besos!

MOUNT CAYAMBE June 27, 2008

Ella is born today. Congrats Johnny and Miranda! Unfortunately I am currently something like 6000 miles away and only can envision how beautiful she is in my mind. I cant wait to get pictures of the beautiful bebe with the Vinson toes! Gotta love dominant genes…

It has been 11 whole days since I left the comfort of everything I have known for the past 2 decades. I tried to write in my diaries that my friends and loved ones gave to me, but I realized 1. I am not as fast at writing as I am at typing 2. I write all day, las palabras en espanol todo el dia. Seriously. I know Spanish words I don’t even know in English. And its only the first week of class. And 3. The computers at the “Cafes” (I put café in quotes because the friggin coffee is instant… yes, they actually grow the effing coco beans like 50 miles away on the coast, but serve instant coffee. Something isn’t right. I crave Dunkin Donuts coffee. mmmm) Anyways, I digress, number 3, the computadoras have the extra “n” with the line over the top, which is pronounced en-yea. But its on the keypad next to the “l” so when I try and type my usual 60 words a minute, I am writing gibberish and getting really pissed off because among everything else I have lost: hygiene, personal space, trendiness (I wear rubber boots), my mind, among much more, I do not want to lose my excellent typing ability. So that being said, I am typing this on MY computadora and I will post it at an internet cafe tomorrow. (and don’t worry, my diaries will get a ton of use.. I’ve already gone through 2 notebooks.)

Long beginning, huh? Guess I have a lot to say when I am in my 8x10 cell infested with what we like to call moscas or huge, massive, mosquitos in which you need to get a blood transfusion after they bite you. I wear a bug net over my face when I go to bed, every night. I kid you not. My cell is in a village about 12,000 feet above sea level, called Pakistancia. Which answers the question, since I live on the Equator, why am I freezing my ass off! Because I am currently at an elevation twice that of Mt. Washington. I leave Pakistancia in 2 months once training is done, and I told Peace Corps I dont think I could do my best effort unless I am in a warm climate, preferably on a beach. We will see what happens....

Pakistancia is about a 20 minute bus ride from a town called Cayambe, which shouldn’t mean anything to you unless you have spent a significant amount of time in the Ecuadorian highlands. They tell me Pakistancia has a population of about 800 people, I think they mean 80 but got the decimal place wrong. As much as I sound negative, Pakistancia is absolutely beautiful. You can see Mount Cayambe (in the Guinness book of world records for something I cant remember), on a clear day, which is absolutely breathtaking. I think the summit is about another 2,000 feet up from where we are. So you can see the smaller montanas (mountains) green with trees then in between them this beautiful snowcapped mountain. It is absolutely surreal.

A typical day in Peace Corps land includes being woken up by the plethora of pigs, cows, horses, and roosters at the ass crack of dawn, and all through the night as well. I slowly pull myself out of bed without exposing my skin to the air and risk getting frostbite. I put on my running tights and a sweatshirt and go for a morning jog until I feel my lungs collapsing onto each other due to the elevation (its not so bad anymore). During my run, I say, “Buenos Dias!” to every person in our community because I learned very early on, it is disrespectful not to say Good Morning when you pass someone, even if you have to pass them 15 times in 1 morning. I come home, and go to take a shower when my host mom, Carmen, stops me to ask if I am going to take a shower again, since I just took one yesterday.

I then get ready for a day an 8 hour daily Spanish class with the 4 other PC volunteers in my village. All my language classes are right here in Pakistancia. At the milk distribution center, where else? Tuesdays and Thursdays aren’t bad because we are with our group of 32 people in our “tech” classes, meaning they teach us how to teach health, since that is the program I am in. Our tech classes are in the town next to us, called Ayora. Casey, a girl in my group from Massachusetts, lives in Ayora. Her and I have become very close, and along with Sam and Alea, have a pretty good support system.

After class on tech days, I usually hangout with the girls or Geoff (another PC friend I met) we go to Cayambe to see what unnecessary shit we can buy for cheap. I did purchase some sweet rain boots for $8. I got ripped off. They go for about $4-$6 usually. Stupid Gringa.

I have to leave Cayambe by 7pm because that is what time the last bus leaves to Pakistancia. So, I can either take that bus for $0.30 or take a taxi to Pakistancia for $6.00. In Ecuador, as you probably already know, is on the Equator, hence the name. All year, they have 12 hours of sunlight and 12 hours of darkness. Its not like NH where in the winter it gets dark at 4 and the summer, 9pm. Every single day is the same. So, by 7 the sun is setting and its dark by 730.

My host family makes me dinner which usually consists of a huge ass plate of rice. Carmen has gotten better bc I told her I don’t like shoving 3500 calories worth of rice down my throat at one sitting. Tonight’s protein was fish with the head and everything, I couldn’t understand where Carmen bought it so I gave up and ate it anyway. The reason this is important because if it is fresh water fish, it most likely came from the highlands where we live and is probably fresh. However, if it is salt water fish from the coast, I will find out when I get Montazuma’s revenge. The refrigeration practices aren’t very good. And anything coming from the coast, I have been warned, I should not eat. In Ecuador they sell the milk, not in a cold refrigerator, but in a regular aisle. Ecuadorian tell me that you don’t need to refrigerate milk if it doesn’t have preservatives in it. Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and believe that but still feel like no leche for me.

My host family is really cool. Carmen and Miguel are the parents and they have 4 kids, Martha, Flor, Angel, and Carmenita Ruby. Ruby is 4 and is just like Abby in so many ways. So funny, mischievous, asks why why why to everything!

Anyway, things are going well. Stuck my hand in the toilet for the first time the other day bc I forgot toilet paper goes in the trash not the toilet. Duh! I am trying hard not to make that mistake again.

I will be living in Pakistancia until the last week of August when we get sworn in. The mailing address is the same for now until I get my real site I will be at for the next 2 years....

Continued Saturday afternoon... I had tutoring this morning in the town next to me. Because of the festival del sol the busses dont run. So I ran. 3 miles. and walked back uphill 3 miles. I am going to rethink tutoring or just borrow my host brothers bike next week! Anyway, I am off to Tabacundo, another small town, but much wealthier than Pakistancia, for a fiesta. Turns out I might not have to abandon everything I love.... More later. More pics coming soon when I have time to figure this blog thing out:) Abrazos y Besos (hugs and kisses) from Ecuador!