Lauren in Ecuador

Wanna judge a milking contest?

2009-09-22T14:25:00.000-07:00

My first weekend back in Ecuador after visiting family and friends in the U.S. was full of unexpected adventures. I had arrived the previous Sunday night, and was eating dinner alone in Quito when a friendly group of three invited me to join them. They turned out to be Eliseo, a competitive swimmer and coach, his brother Bolivar and Bolivar’s girlfriend Karen, who was headed back to Porto Viejo by bus that night. We had a great time hanging out that night, and they invited me to go to their coastal hometown of Porto Viejo to attend the community festival their mom had organized. Promises of delicious food, surfing, and a milking contest tempted me to the coast the following weekend.
The ride from Quito to Porto Viejo was dark, rainy and long. We got in at one in the morning and fell asleep instantly. The next morning we were up at 7am and headed into Manta for a breakfast of fish and plantains, then stumbled across a fun swim meet that I ended up swimming the 100m backstroke in (I disqualified for taking the last few strokes face-down, but it wasn't like I was going to win anyway). Then we drove an hour south to Santa Rosa, a tiny fishing village with reportedly the best surf around. The waves were only a few feet tall, but enough to have a great time and teach the boys a thing or two.
On Saturday we headed to Olmedo, an inland town where Eliseo's mother was born. We stayed in his grandmother's house, an airy wooden building overlooking the river and town. I was asked to be the judge of the milking contest, which started at 7am--too early after a late night with the cousins.First the contestants would tie the calf to the hind leg of the cow so that she wouldn't move around during the milking process.

Eliseo's mom tries her hand at milking.
Then I did.

Of course I had to sample the final product...delicious. The cow's owner was concerned that I'd soon be running for the bathroom but I managed to keep it together.

Fortunately after 3 minutes of milking there was still plenty of milk for the calf.
After I had completed my duties as judge we went horseback riding. The saddle was wooden so a trip around the block was long enough for me.
We even forged a mighty river .
When we arrived back at the plaza, I was asked to judge the rice-cleaning contest. Ok, why not? Each village had its contestants beat the rice in a big wooden mortar and pestle until the husk was removed.
We judged the rice based on whiteness, grain size, and cleanliness.
One community brought their newly purified water for everyone to taste.
Then I watched my first cockfight--no deaths.
I even drove the Olmedo bus!

It turned out to be a very memorable weekend and a great start to my relationship with Eliseo. More on that to come...

Wrapping up the summer

2009-08-07T10:21:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks have been full of teaching, visiting with new and old friends, digging in the dirt, navigating the health care bureaucracy, and saying goodbyes.

Summer English classes were a hit and I really enjoyed giving them. There was enough interest to keep going a week longer than we had planned, although by the end it was one hour of English and one our of basketball.

The last week I only had 15 students, a class size that lent itself to fun activities and good learning (I hope).

The squirrely boys sat in the back but I always made them participate.

Steven (pronounced Eh-steven) is an angel in class but wild and rambunctious once you let him outside.

One recess the dog got ahold of Michelle's notebook and had a ball making the kids chase her around to get it back. She ate half of the front cover before letting it go.

More post-class antics: trying to pick the neighbor's well-fortified blackberries.

For our final Friday excursion, the math teacher and I took 30 kids up to Laguna Cuicocha to walk around the crater. Half of the kids ran ahead while some of the others struggled to finsh the 4-hour route, but we all had a good time.

Michelle, Monica, Thalia, and Steven all perky at the beginning of the walk.

Taking a rest break about a quarter of the way in. The first kids start to complain about being tired.

Monica and Michelle were two of the sweetest girls in the class.

Alfredo, the math teacher, was completely in his element, picking blueberries and teaching us all about the plants we saw.

My new friend Fanny with her kids Steven and Michelle, after they invited me for lunch at their house and a tour of the neighborhood.

On Sunday I climbed the hill to a minga (community work party) to put in a potable water pipeline for parts of the community. Every family has to send a representative, and I spent most fo the time digging with my awesome cousin Mariana.

We had a nice day and the view stretched north toward Colombia.

The following Monday, we had a big mural-painting and goodbye party for the group of American students from Putney.

More gorgeous weather inspired me to capture Imbabura from our backyard, where my host dad grows beans, corn, and currently peas.

Elsa and cousin Jefferson, one of my former Panecillo students.
I'm still chipping away at my sewing project, an embroidered shirt that I'm planning to give to my host mom.
Alberto and wife Luzmila dress 4 month-old Wayta up as a mini-tia (auntie).

Que bonita! Even sticking out her tongue.

A few weeks ago, Kelly and I went to Mindo to relax in tropical paradise. It reminds me so much of Hawaii, with its rain, birdsong and vistas. Ahh, home.

We walked up a dirt road to the famous waterfall, which morphed from a 2km (according to the sign at the bottom) to what must have been 8km walk.

The river was cold and clear. Kel crossing the bridge.

We got lots of offers to go "canopying" (zip line) but partly based on this photo decided it wasn't for us.

Instead we ventured down the slide into cool, refreshing water. It was an excellent weekend adventure.

Climbing Imbabura Volcano

2009-07-21T15:11:00.000-07:00

On my second attempt at the 15,157 ft Imbabura volcano overlooking Otavalo, I made it!

I referred some of the high school volunteers (the same group helping me with English classes) to my host brother Vinicio, who regularly guides tourists up the volcano. I decided it was a great opportunity for me to go, having gotten lost and not made it the time Kent and I tried to go a different route. The others welcomed me along, and at 5am this morning we all piled in to their pickup truck and headed to Ibarra. It took about an hour to reach the trailhead. We had bread and hot tea that Vinicio had brought for all of us before snapping a few photos and starting up the trail.

The morning light slowly revealed the Andean landscape above Ibarra.

By about 7am, the sun had turned the fields a deep golden color.

Vinicio, Shereef, Ben and Hyde (stretching) were my hiking companions.

Eucalyptus trees lined the path for the first few hundred yards.

The patchwork of fields are typical of the Ecuadorian sierra.

The path was very steep most of the way, passing through the “pajonal” or grasslands.

We got some gorgeous views of neighboring Cayambe volcano, which according to Vinicio is almost always covered by clouds.

As we continued gaining altitude, the inside of the half-crater that forms the summit came into view.

Ben rests and looks over the valley floor.

Resting at the midway point, we could see Cotacachi and Otavalo.

It was really windy up on the ridge.

Some of the views during our ascent made me dizzy.

We were really tired when we reached the summit at about 10:30am…

…but happy!

It was the highest mountain I’ve ever summitted, and I loved it.

To top it off, there was a gorgeous sunset when I got home to rest and wash my socks. Just another day in Ecuador.

Cuicocha, Castillo and Caminata

2009-07-15T13:34:00.000-07:00

A few weekends ago I hiked with Jaime, Ida, and my Colombian friend Ricardo around Laguna Cuicocha, a gorgeous crater lake about 45 minutes from Otavalo.

It took us 4 hours to make the full circuit. The weather was as nice as I’ve ever seen it up there, and we got some great views of the lake and the surrounding countryside.

Ricardo lives in Pasto with his German girlfriend. We became friends 3 years ago when I was studying in Quito and he was a squash trainer.

Last time I tried to hike around with Paul and Kent, it was completely socked in so we turned around a third of the way in. This time it only sprinkled a bit then broke into patches of intense sun. Some teenage Ecuadorian boys were mountain biking the trail with a jug of Cola in tow, which looked pretty formidable to me.

Meanwhile back at the ranch preparations were already underway for the "entrega de castillo", or turning in the castle. As best I could understand, this is done to promote sharing between communities and to celebrate the bounty of the harvest. Once we got back from hiking, Ricardo and I helped tie dozens of bananas, oranges, grape bunches, homemade rolls, and boxes of wine to large wooden lattices, making the castillo. We made two since we had been given one last year--I guess tradition demands a double return.

The garland of "uchu", or red chili peppers was put on the castillo as the finishing touch.

My little niece Ayriway only cracked a smile after extensive tickling.

Cousin Rolando is a national level track runner.

We entered a big field dancing in circles with the castillo to the beat of our very own band--my host dad and uncles playing the guitar, harmonica and flute.

After what seemed like an hour of dancing, we turned in our castillo and watched other groups arrive dancing.

My aunt and baby Kindi, with some of the wildest, most inquisitive eyes I've ever seen. He's kind of afraid of me but I think we're becoming friends.

Summer English classes have been going well, with over 80 kids showing up each day. Luckily I have some high-school volunteers from the US to help me out. I teach the advanced level, and nine of them teach the other three sections.

Last Friday we took the kids on an adventure to the sacred Lechero tree, picked up trash, and hiked down to the Peguche waterfall for a picnic lunch. We had a blast and all the kids made it, despite the long hike uphill.

It’s amazing how far the temptation of cola and empanadas will carry kids…

...even the tired ones.

Some of the boys were very squirrely, running ahead or climbing the sacred tree.

Over 90 of us were there, but some were messing around or refused to be in the picture. All in all it was an awesome "caminata", or walk.

On a sad note, my dog Mingari was run over on Monday morning. I'm especially sad because she was so happy and full of life, and took care of the little puppies like they were her own. At least she enjoyed the short life that she had.

Fortunately, aside from a few sad things that have happened recently, I'm enjoying work and my host family a lot. Through the castillo and other cultural events I partipate in because of them, I'm learning a lot about indigenous culture. My good friend Kelly is working in Quito for a few weeks, so I went to visit her on Sunday. It was great to catch up after so long, and we'll be hanging out the next few weekends. Hasta pronto,
Lorena

Midnight Bathing Ceremony

2009-07-03T10:44:00.001-07:00

Last weekend my host family took me on a crazy and unforgettable adventure: ritual bathing at midnight in a "hot" spring to celebrate the festival of Inti Raymi. The purpose of bathing at midnight in this vertiente, as they call it, is to purify yourself and make your body strong and resistant to illness. I refrained from sharing with them my thought that being wet and outside at midnight in the coldest month of the year might actually invite sickness. Around 20 of us--my family and all of their cousins, aunts, uncles, friends-- piled into the back of a big truck at around 11pm, my sisters assuring me that we were going far, far away and that I'd better bring my pillow. No more than 15 minutes later, the truck stopped.

I was confused, but followed everyone else as they climbed out of the truck and started along a path into the woods. Carrying candles, we descended muddy switchbacks into a valley. I was told that if I didn't gather firewood along the way, I'd be charged admission. I knew they were just kidding me, but I gathered as much firewood as I could carry anyway. I began to think that there would be a lot of people where we were going, and wondering what exactly they meant by "bathing". Was this going to be a freezing cold stream? Would I be told to whip myself with an ortiga nettle? Would I really be invincible to illness afterward?

When we arrived at the bottom of the switchbacks, we were in a pasture-filled valley bottom. Only a few yards away was the spring, bubbling and steaming. Sweet, I thought, this isn't going to be freezing and miserable after all. Even better, we built a huge bonfire and sat around it on benches.

Meanwhile Santos, my host dad sprinkled rose petals around the edge of the spring and in the water too, preparing the ceremonial area. He called us all over, and we stood contemplating the dark forest we had come from as he chanted in Kichwa. He got into the pool and blew several long, deep blasts from the conch shell.

Then they said it was time to get in, so I changed into my suit and came back with my towel. The air was chilly but I thought it would make it that much nicer to get into the steaming water. One by one my cousins and sisters and uncles waded out to the middle of the pool, and Santos poured water over them from the conch, sprayed water from his mouth onto their faces, backs and arms, shook dry leaves over them, and sent away any bad energy with a big whoosh from his mouth.

I watched several people go before me, getting cold but excited for the hot water. Finally I put my foot in, and discovered that the water was only slightly warmer than the air!

Yikes, that discovery called for a cigarette. Actually, smoking the cigarette was part of the ceremony, along with "wine" that tasted like rubbing alcohol mixed with grape perfume.

When it was my turn, the water wasn't too bad, and I felt myself if not literally then at least emotionally cleansed. This was like the start of a new chapter, the summer months. No more runny nose and homesickness (I hoped).

Not everyone bathed-- Estela and Pacha preferred to hang out on the edge and watch. Margarita and Cristina, two of our cousins, were there for moral support.

Brr, time to warm up by the fire.

No sooner had I gotten out of the pool, it started raining. The dry eucalyptus leaves provided a short furious blaze, then fizzled out. Then it started pouring. We gathered our things and scurried up the switchbacks to the truck. By the time we got home it was 2am--the perfect time for chicken and potato soup!

Fiestas and Farewells

2009-06-18T11:54:00.000-07:00

A few weekends ago I attended the USINQUI (local indigenous community organization) annual party. At about 11am, my family and I waited outside our house for about half an hour before hailing an empty pick-up to take us up the road to Javier’s house. Javier is the other shaman in the area aside from my host dad, and their differing techniques as healers seem to have driven a subtle but perceptible divide between the two families. My sisters helped Javier’s wife and daughters hand out round after round of soup—first chicken broth (I got the head, whoopee!), then thick stew with a whole hardboiled egg in each bowl.
I ran into two of my students, who showed me the chickens while we ate our soup.

My sisters were bustling around to feed the hundred or so people that had gathered, and told me afterward that Javier’s wife had been mean to them. This only topped off the night before, when a few of us had showed up to help prep for the party and were given the cold shoulder for a few minutes, then told that everything was already done. We then walked back to my house in the dark since there were no more busses (something I’ve been repeatedly told not to do alone). I was baffled by the whole experience, but back to the party…

After we ate, several of the men formed a circle and started dancing. Many were dressed in wooly chaps and two of them were carrying a long pole on their shoulders with live chickens strung upside down by their feet. I don’t think the chickens were enjoying it too much, but they did make quite a sight, especially when some tried to flap their way up to stand on the pole. The band, playing traditional San Juanito tunes on panflute, charango and kena, was dressed in wild costumes, with wigs and sunglasses.
The dancing was only interrupted once by the local bus trying to pass through on its rounds.
At around 2pm, the party started to mobilize. First went the dancers, then the band, which had now evolved to include a lot of brass instruments and drums, then the crowd. Four of the girls carried fruit baskets on their heads while we walked—I helped carry one for a few minutes and thought my neck was going to snap under the weigh if I wasn’t careful. We were all eating dust from the road, but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, even the little kids being dragged along by their moms.
We paused at every intersection along the way to do a special dance, then continued on our way to the community of La Banda. There was already a large crowd when we arrived, people from all of the surrounding communities that had already made their trek. Our dancers went to the middle of the big circle and danced for a few minutes to announce our arrival and the turning in of our chickens. There was a lot of community pride involved, and the mood stayed high even when it started raining. At that point, I figured it was a good time to make my exit since I had another party to get to.

The prized roster was held aloft and dancing.

It was still raining an hour later when I arrived at Kent’s house in Rey Loma for his goodbye party. He and his family had cooked a delicious roast chicken and mashed potatoes, and I brought some vegetables to steam. Paul and Kristen and their daughters brought a beautiful cake, and we all ate and chatted happily. We weren’t too sad because the real goodbyes wouldn’t come for another week.

On Sunday, my family and I threw another goodbye party for Kent at my house. Preparations began early, with the purchase and killing of three cuy (guinea pigs). Eating cuy is reserved for special occasions here, I think mainly because of the lengthy preparation involved. For animal lovers and faint of heart, please STOP READING and don’t look at the next few photos.
If you’re interested, first we plucked fur off the throat so the knife could cut cleanly,

bent the head back,
then slit the throat and let the blood drain out.
The cuy didn’t make any noise at all, which surprised me given the circumstances. I was also surprised by my reaction—I had been worried that I would cry, but it all seemed very well-executed and sensible so I felt ok about the whole thing. We were killing an animal to eat, even if it was a cute little furry one that I used to keep as a pet when I was young.

After the deed had been done, we dipped the bodies in boiling water to loosen the fur, then pulled it off in chunks. We held them for a few seconds over open flames to singe off any remaining fur, gutted them (ok, I didn’t participate in that part) then speared them with sticks lengthwise and roasted them over the fire.

MOM START READING AGAIN

While all of these efforts were taking place, Kent had sent me a text message inviting me to eat cuy at his house. Noooo, I thought. This was supposed to be a surprise going-away party, but now I had to make up an excuse about why I couldn’t come over, and try to think of a way to delay the eating of our cuy. I told him to come over to play Frisbee (the pretense for getting him over to our house) whenever he was done eating cuy.
As the hour approached, it started to rain, the cousins got hungry and ate, and my nerves were fried. Nothing was going according to plan. Such is life. When Kent arrived, we had a good time playing Frisbee, then one of the cousins got a bloody nose and we went home. The meal had turned out well, Kent’s suspicions were answered, and we were sent off to Quito with a whole extra cuy and mountain of potatoes. After eating cuy twice in one day, poor Kent just couldn’t eat any more. We searched the whole bus station for a deserving cuy recipient and finally settled on a janitor, who was psyched. Plenty of cuy to go around.

Coastal Adventures continued

2009-05-28T13:24:00.000-07:00

Puerto Lopez was a charming medium-sized fishing town on the edge of Machalillas National Park. After hopping off the bus (still carrying our left-over milk) we walked across town to the beachfront hostels. We found an adorable bungalow called "Hostal Playa Sur" that reminded me of a beach house I went to as a kid. We bought some fancy ($8 bottle instead of $5 box) wine and cheese and sat on the second-story lanai to enjoy the sunset on the bay.

Puerto Lopez turned out to be our favorite place, with its fun but not overdone waterfront, amazing calamari, and friendly locals. There were lots of vendors selling giant conch shells and jewelry made from "spondylus", another big shellfish.

In the morning we walked down to the fish market, where the fishermen had recently arrived with the day's catch. Some guys were rolling their boats up the beach on two parallel logs (photo above) or cleaning fish, but most of the people there were just hanging out. Of course it wouldn't be complete without cumbia and reggaeton blaring from the speakers that ran off of generators.

The fisherman brought in all kinds of fish, from tuna to snapper. It was fun to see how the fresh seafood we'd been eating first got to shore.

I noticed this driver around town a few times; no door and no shirt seemed pretty ideal for life on the coast.

After Puerto Lopez, we headed 3 hours north to Manta, the capital of Manabi. It was a big city focused around the gorgeous beach and waterfront development. Kent and I had a fancy sushi dinner to celebrate his graduation from his masters program, and as a last hurrah of our coastal vacation. I have many fond memories from just a week, and realized once again what an incredibly diverse country Ecuador is. The 10 hour bus ride up to Quito took us through dry scrubland, deep green valleys carved by muddy rivers, and misty cloudforest. By the time we emerged through the clouds and glipsed the familiar Andes, I was completely entranced.

The first week back in Otavalo has been fine, nothing too notable. We played Jeopardy with the 5th and 6th graders as a review, and tried a more complicated coloring exercise with the 1st and 2nd graders. With two weeks to go before summer vacation, I'm looking forward to teaching the high-school kids and adults in July because I think they'll be more motivated and we'll be able to get into more complex topics.

As for the host family, half of them have what they jokingly refer to as the "gripe cuchina" (swine flu) but hopefully is no more than a common cold. The mama cat is due to give birth soon, which I'm excited about. I've started embroidering a shirt in the traditional style (lots of flowers and ruffles) for the Inti Raymi festival coming up in a few weeks. It will be a miracle if I finish in time. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to quit my day job to embroider full-time.

I miss you all and hope everyone is doing well!
Love,
Lauren

Going Coastal

2009-05-25T15:25:00.000-07:00

Kent and I just got back from a week-long adventure on the coast. From Guayaquil to Manta, we thoroughly enjoyed the warm beaches, thatched bungalows and delicious seafood. It was just the break I needed.

We spent a night in Riobamba to break up the long bus ride south. It's a lovely colonial city with lots of beautiful architecture and the best lasagna! Maybe we were just hungry after travelling...

The Hotel Tren Dorado "Golden Train" was right across the plaza from the train station from which departs the famous Nariz del Diablo "Devil's Nose" ride.

The next morning we walked around the city and spotted many fresh chanchos like this one.
The six hour bus ride down from the sierra to Guayaquil was long and hot but afforded gorgeous views like this one.
Guayaquil was much safer and more attractive than I expected. We found a reasonable hotel close to the Malecon, the fancy boardwalk/urban development project the city carried out in 2000, and enjoyed shrimp dinners and...McDonald's sundaes for dessert. So decadent.

The Malecon streched for several kilometers along the river, and had many statues, lookout towers and sailboats to go along with its restaurants and stores.

Back at the uber-modern bus station, we boarded an air conditioned bus for Salinas, Ecuador's most famous and fancy beach resort area. The water was indeed crystal clear, the mansions tasteful, and the seafood excellent. We stayed in the Hostal Los Cocos in a nice second-story room. The only downfall of Salinas was the painful bee sting that I got on my finger while collecting shells on the beach, and the guy on coke that kept trying to get money from us (in a non-threatening way) after dinner.

A few hours farther north, we checked into one of Montañita's many hostels and Kent finished his master's thesis in a hammock. Yay! I ran into Zac Wass, a classmate of mine I hadn't seen from high school. It was fun to catch up with him and his Peruvian friend Adrian. The next morning I took Kent out for a private surf lesson, and he stood up! The waves were fun and the people were friendly.

In Las Tunas, we stayed in an Eco-Lodge called Azuluna, all bamboo with great kitchen where we made ourselves breakfast. It was also home to huge, incredibly soft dogs. We met a group of Canadian women finishing up a teaching practicum and some volunteers who were just finishing a wall as part of a water system for the town. The owner of Azuluna was also the president of the foundation that had connected all of the volunteers to the community.

Here I am with the milk we saved from breakfast and carried on the bus to Puerto Lopez, only 20 minutes north. Of course I spilled some on myself getting on the bus.

To be continued...

Haba Harvest in the Campo

2009-05-12T14:55:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I went with my host family to harvest "habas", a large bean with a distinctive flavor. We left the house at 7am with big blankets for harvesting and carrying down the habas, and some popcorn and beans packed for lunch. We ended up with several large sacks called quintales, which will be a major part of our diet for the next few months. Toasted habas, haba soup, mote de habas--you name it, we'll eat it. I think they're pretty tasty and full of protein.

On our way up, we met this friendly guy having a snack (from what I can tell that's all they do all day). The Ecuadorian news has been telling people to watch out for the swine flu by keeping their pigs far away, which doesn't make much sense since only the first case would have passed from pig to human. My family isn't worried about the swine flu, because they say that if you're afraid of an illness, you're more likely to get it.

After walking uphill for about half an hour, we arrived at the family's property where they had grown corn and habas. Papa Santos had already been up there working for an hour when we arrived, a work ethic that is very characteristic of him. If everyone in the family didn't contibute and work hard, it would be impossible for them to make ends meet. We spent about 4 hours winding our way up and down the rows plucking the habas off of knee-high plants, trying to keep time with each other so we could finish whole sections together before moving on to the next. At first I kept getting told to hurry up, or that I was leaving some on the bush (lose-lose situation) but then I got the hang of it and could hold my own.

The walk down went by faster than the walk up, even with the harvest on our backs. The same pig was still doing the same thing.

Once we got home, we sorted out the tender ones from the dry ones, then relaxed and played monopoly for a few hours. It was a fun day, and I really like the fact that my family grows and harvests most of the food they eat, even if it sometimes means lack of variety. I'm also glad they're so willing to let me participate and help them with daily activities, because that's how I begin to understand what life is really like here.

Weekend Adventure to Chota

2009-05-05T15:28:00.000-07:00

Less than 2 hours north of Otavalo lies Chota, a dry, sunny valley inhabited almost exclusively by Afro-Ecuatorians. Decending thousands of feet in the bus, we saw orchards and steep valley walls with a river running through the center. Next we hopped on a bus to El Angel, climbing back up into the high paramo.

In El Angel, we stayed in this charming little hostel. There were about three restaurants in town and we had delicious roasted chicken at on of them.

The main cathedral in El Angel was impressively large for such a small town.

The next day we went to the nearby "El Calderon" hot springs, which were only lukewarm. The setting was incredible though.

We spent the second night at "Aruba", one of the many hotels with swimming pools lining the Chota Valley. There were tons of Ecuadorian tourists (and maybe some from nearby Colombia)

Back in Otavalo, we ate a second round of fanesca (the special pumpkin soup with 12 grains) with Kent's family. Kent and his host siblings Kuri and Kami are eating some ice cream the family made to sell in their adjacent store.

Out back, I got to hold one of the baby bunnies.
The stairs from Otavalo to Kent's house in Rey Loma are steep.

Otavalo from above, with Cotacachi Volcano partly covered.

A picture is worth a thousand words

2009-04-28T15:44:00.000-07:00

Cuy (Guinea Pig) Roast!

I picked up on a soccer team for a tournament last weekend. We won second place and a pig.

One of the other teams didn't show up so we had a huge muddy scrimmage with spectators. Kent went for a few wild slides in the mud.

My host sisters like to stress out Kent with their constant giggling.

My host mom got out the stone mortar and pestle to make some aji, or spicy sauce, with pumpkin seeds, hot peppers, water and salt.

I helped.

Kent and I hiked up to the sacred Lechero Tree in the morning and got an amazing view of Otavalo on one side and Laguna San Pablo on the other.

Cultural differences

2009-04-28T15:31:00.000-07:00

Recently I’ve noticed an increasing number of differences between my beliefs about illness and those of my host family. For example, when I spent last Saturday lounging around the house with an upset stomach and diarrhea, my family assured me that it was because I drank cold water (the key word being cold) directly after drinking hot milk with them instead of waiting at least 3 hours. Drinking hot liquids does make sense because the boiling kills bacteria and parasites, but the cold water that I drink is always through my filter bottle, and I’m pretty sure I got sick from some raw cabbage I ate the day before.

To top off the experience, I was told not to drink water while I had diarrhea because that would make it last longer. When I flatly rejected this advice, I ended up having an interesting conversation with Santos about how each country or culture provides distinct advice about prevention and treatment of illnesses. He also performed a traditional “cleaning” on me, which involved spraying alcohol and perfumed water on me from his mouth, shaking a bundle of dry leaves around me while chanting, then blowing away the bad energy that had entered my body. Whether it was his healing or the immodium I took, I was better the next day.

As you may have guessed from my recent entries, I’m feeling some culture shock right now, and have been thinking a lot about Hawaii and Vermont. I am enjoying the work and the friends that I’ve made here, but I also spend a fair amount of time missing family, friends and familiarity. I think it is a phase of being here that will change soon (I hope), but in the meantime I am taking everything day by day.

School has continued to be a source of joy and stress. The kindergarteners are very sweet but it’s hard to get them to do anything besides color and play with puzzles. The first and second graders are a handful—at 25 they’re the biggest class in the school. Fifth and sixth grade presented their geography projects today, and I was impressed by their pronunciation. I love being around the kids but can't help but feel a little sad when I realize how much is lacking in their education. I would guess that they spend about 3 hours actually in the classroom each day, and of that are learning for maybe 2 hours. Many of them can't focus long enough to finish simple tasks, or read or write very well. Some of the teachers are very intelligent and dedicated, but others seem to view their job only as a glorified babysitting position. I am enjoying getting to know the kids and teachers at my school.

The view from above of Ati Pillahuasu, the elementary school where I teach English. The multistory buildings are homes of extended families.

Correa Wins by a Landslide

2009-04-28T15:16:00.000-07:00

The campaign season wrapped up this past Thursday with parades of honking cars, concerts in the public squares and of course, boozing. “País”, the socialist party of current president Rafael Correa, threw a big flashy party up in Parque Bolivar, complete with scantily clad backup dancers. “Pachakutik”, the indigenous party, threw a smaller party with traditional Kichwa music down in the Plaza de Ponchos. Elsa, Pacha, Kent and I got dollar slices of pizza then went to check out the festivities.

One of Pachakutik’s fliers promised the construction of a monorail, pyramid and giant market complex. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like any of this will be happening soon since only two Pachakutik candidates were elected in the whole country. País for its part will continue to offer monthly welfare bonuses of $30, which, according to my host brother Alberto, have made Ecaudorians lazy. On Sunday, Correa won another turn as president, by a landslide of 60% (the next candidate had 30%). The election was of “good quality” according to the EU observers, but there was some violence on the coast.

One of the strangest political things I’ve heard recently (aside from the promised monorail) is that Obama wants to go to war with Ecuador. Whoa. To give some context, this came from an 8 year-old girl who had heard from her mom that Obama supports Colombia and therefore would go to war with Ecuador. It’s interesting to hear how news and politics are “interpreted”, to put it kindly.

Cotacachi Volcano on a nice clear day.

The End of Chapter 1

2009-04-02T16:09:00.000-07:00

The final week of Health Care Volunteer Vacations wrapped up with a group of med students from the University of Utah. They were the most fun, laid-back group of future doctors I could imagine, and I really enjoyed getting to know them. We worked in five communities above the town of Gualsaqui, still part of the canton of Quichinche but at least an hour away in the back of a truck that definitely wouldn´t pass emissions standards. We usually arrived at around 9:30 or 10 am, set up shop, and with the exception of one rainy day saw around 50 patients. Everyone rotated roles in running the clinic every day, and three of the med students would perform a preliminary consultation before running their diagnosis by one of the doctors. This provided a great way for the students to get the hands on experience they´d been hoping for and allowed us to see more patients. We still hope that next time more doctors will come, so that we can serve all of the patients that show up, and also so the non-doctor volunteers always have enough to do.

While patients were waiting to see the doctor, we would give public health talks about nutrition, family planning, sanitation and hygiene. In Achupallas, several of the middle aged women directed us to their teenaged children to talk about using condoms, which was a priceless scene.

Huayraspungo was the most distant community, way up in the mountains (and clouds) above Gualsaqui. These two women are wearing the traditional "anako" skirt worn by all indigenous women around Otavalo.

Dr. Rosado, originally from Puerto Rico, was one of the providers who brought the group of med students here. He was telling those of us riding in the first truck to look at the big mudslide blocking our way. We waited 30 minutes for it to be cleared away--a typical morning en route to a clinic.

Corey, one of the med students, spoke excellent Spanish from his two years of volunteer work with Hispanic communities in Fresno, CA. Here he is giving a public health talk to a captive audience sheltered in the back of one of our trucks.

On the way down from one of our clinics, we stopped to see a spectacular view of Laguna Cuicocha (Guinea Pig Lake in Kichwa).

My fabulous coworkers Kent, Anna and Dana.

The one downside of all the work running the clinics was that I wasn´t getting to see much of my host family. This all changed in April, when I suddenly had a lot more free time on my hands. I teach English for about 2 hours a day Monday-Thursday in the local elementary school, which has been a blast so far. I have Kindergarden through 4th grade one day a week each, and 5th and 6th grade three days a week since they need more preparation for colegio (high school). I try to keep the classes as fun as possible, with games, art and singing. I´ll be teaching there until mid-June, when school ends and I start teaching summer school for high schoolers.

When I´m at home, I try to help with chores like shelling beans, husking corn, sweeping and washing dishes. This also provides a great opportunity to chat with my family and learn about their world. They treat me just like a member of the family, with some exceptions like getting served food before everyone else and laughed at for the amount of time I spend reading or brushing my teeth, and I´m happy living with them. We always share some good laughs, especially over the antics of Condor, my 9 year-old brother, and the running joke that anyone of us who arrives at the house at night was out "mociando", which literally translates to having a romantic affair. Somehow it never gets old.

Blanca, the younger sister of my brother Alberto´s wife, came to live with us so she could help her sister care for her newborn baby.

Estela, my 23 year-old sister, is training to be a chef at Universidad Tecnica del Norte in Ibarra.

A beautiful sunset over Imbabura volcano from my house.

The animals have the run of the house until someone sees, then they get a sharp reprimand.

Moment of Zen: How fast was he running when he hit the wall?

Health Clinics in the Campo

2009-03-13T15:28:00.000-07:00

"Es un milagro estar aqui"--It's a miracle to be here. This is the first thing that Maria, a 70 year-old from Agualongo told me when I sat down to ask her how she was and why she had come to the clinic this morning. In the middle of our third and last week of putting on traveling health clinics for rural communities near Otavalo, Tandana has seen over 400 people for general health complaints ranging from parasites to back pain to ear infections. It's very rewarding to work closely with people from these communities, because they don't get to receive medical care very often and are generally very thankful.

The folks who come here through the Health Care Volunteer Vacations have been incredible to work with. Some are doctors, nursing students, med students, pre meds, and physician's assistants, and others simply want to directly help people. My Tandana coworkers are Anna Taft, the director, Dana Ericson, the group coordinator, and Kent Benson, a public health masters student who is lending a hand in many aspects. We all have a lot of fun together, which makes the long hours go by quickly.

Kim from Toronto, Chandler from Atlanta, and Shelly from Montana on the walk back from the Taksopamba waterfall.

Let me give you a general idea of how our days run: 8am-9am walk from hotel to community, meet the truck full of medications, and set up shop in a school or, if available, health or community center. Depending on the community and the organization of their leadership, there will either be a large group of patients waiting for us, or no one until 10:30 or 11am. Then comes the big rush of patients, as kids get out of school and people who have traveled from far away arrive on foot. We write their names on a list in the order of arrival, then find out why they've come and take their vital signs. At this point, since we have only 2 or 3 doctors, people usually have to wait a while to be seen. Some patients are more patient than others. Haha.

Anna Taft, director of the Tandana Foundation, can speak Kichwa with a lot of the older patients who don't speak much Spanish.

Our pharmacy is contained in plastic bins organized by generic name.

Padre Chupa, our most distant clinic.

Kim, me, Laura, Marie, and Nancy went for a walk up above the clinic in Padre Chupa, getting some amazing views.

Unfortunately I haven't been seeing a lot of my host family, but that will change next week when the health clinics are over. From left: Nina, Estela, Mama, me, Papa.

Meet the family

2009-03-04T07:19:00.000-08:00

My journey back to Ecuador flew by much faster than I expected. As I landed in Quito late Friday night, I felt a wave of familiarity from the four months I had spent in the city during college. Waking up to the sound of honking horns and shouts, I was anxious to get out to the campo (countryside) near Otavalo, where I’ll be living until October.

So what am I doing here? I’ll be working for a small nonprofit called the Tandana Foundation (www.tandanafoundation.org) coordinating medical volunteers from the U.S., teaching in an elementary school, and finding ways for the foundation to support efforts local people are making to improve their lives.

Cotacachi volcano from my backyard.

Yesterday, tagging along with a group of the foundation’s donors, I got a chance to see some of the environmental and educational projects happening in the rural communities outside Otavalo. First we visited a tree nursery in Larcacunga, where a tiny, wise man named Matias cultivates 70,000 native trees a year to be distributed to the surrounding communities. Then we hiked up a few hundred feet to the water treatment plant that cost an American hotel owner and community benefactor $20,000 to build. Seems like a very reasonable price to pay for the health of people in the five communities that now have potable water.

Native tree nursery in Larcacunga.

Next we went to the house of Vicente Pazmiño to hear from some of the students that receive scholarships from the Tandana Foundation. It costs $300 a year to send a student through high school, which is no small expense for a family of ten living off of the land and trade of woven goods and food. Tandana supports 26 students who have expressed a desire to continue their studies beyond elementary school, which is by no means a given here. The students explained to us that coming from rural elementary schools puts them at a disadvantage and that the city kids tease them. They were very thankful for the opportunity to keep studying and eventually have a good job.

I have begun to settle in with my host family, which is not hard to do since they are some of the kindest people I have ever met. Papa Santos Quilumbango, who is a traditional healer, and Mama Maria Espinosa have a large, interesting family. There are 8 children: Condor (9), Nina (11), Tamia (15), Pacha (17), Elsa (21), Estela (23), Vinicio (24), Alberto (25), and Alberto’s wife Luzmila (20) and their 3 day-old baby. Vinicio and Estela go to university in Ibarra, the regional capital 30 minutes north of Otavalo. Alberto teaches adult literacy and plays folkloric music. The rest are in elementary or high school, and spend a lot of time in the afternoon meticulously doing their homework. The family clearly values education a lot, although they have to take out loans to make it happen.

On Sunday we went to a cousin’s wedding in Otavalo. Since it was a “mestizo” wedding instead of traditional indigenous wedding, the ceremony was held in a church. The party lasted all day and into the night, with tons of food, drinking and dancing. Several people circulated the room with Coca Cola, beer or liquor and invited every person to drink. When I say invited, what I mean is forced, because they wouldn’t leave until you drained the cup. My host parents were the last ones dancing, and at the end of the night Papito gave Mamita a huge hug. That sight alone made my day.

The family is very connected to their indigenous roots; they speak Kichwa at home--I need to learn so I’m not always laughing at jokes I don’t understand-- dress in the traditional way, and are either at school or working from dawn until midnight most days. They weave beautiful woolen fabric, cultivate corn, beans and cabbage, build furniture, play music, raise chickens, pigs and guinea pigs, and cook for 11 people every day.

There is definitely time for play too. One afternoon the kids and I went to play Frisbee in the neighborhood park, and had a ridiculously silly and amazing time. At home we played cards (the rules are always changing), and watched the small black and white TV while we ate our typical dinner of potato soup. Then I was off to bed, since I was planning to wake up at sunrise to go to see the pyramids at Cochasqui. That’s for another post…

Moment of Zen-- a flying guinea pig in the Las Palmeras hotel, home base for our medical volunteers.