5 months down

A few to go. Just how many remains to be seen...

And without further ado, here´s my last blog post from Quito for the next three-and-a-half weeks.

At the end of last cycle, I got horribly sick. I had the flu and got so congested. I even woke up and had trouble breathing one night. Well, I would hate to be inconsistent! This cycle nearing the end and yet again, I find myself quite ill. This time, it´s not my respiratory system that´s failing me, but rather my digestive system. A few days ago, eating anything at all nearly killed me. My stomach would cramp every few minutes and I´d have such nausea. And I got a fever. And a headache. I was on an all-rice diet (which is the typical Ecuadorian thing anyway, but I didn´t even vary it with slabs of meat..)

Anyway. Things could be better.

But really, they couldn´t. I´m going home in TWO DAYS! 2 days, 6 hours, 25 minutes. But, who´s counting?

While I´m gone, I´m going to miss the several great friends I´ve made here. I won´t miss teaching necessarily, but I´ll look forward to returning to it in January. I´ll miss seeing the volcanoes outside my window. And. That´s about it.

Maybe a Monday morning after I´ve been sick all weekend is the worst time to blog. But hey, this is my life. I could portray all the lovely things and pretend life is swell here, or I could be real. I like realism. Redemptive realism of course. I thought I coined that, but apparently Flannery O´Connor said it well before me.

So that was the realism. The redemption is that I value my family, my ´hometown,´ my region, my country, and my God´s infinite love and grace so much more highly now. Bring on the rice and the illnesses and the creepers and the loneliness and the ugliness of the city (for a few more months...). I can handle it.

This is such a good time. In the real sense of the word good. Not like Carly Rae Jepsen and Owl City´s "...we don´t even have to try, it´s always a good time."  I mean, the outcome is good. It´s not quite as fun as a barrel of monkeys.

But then again, that´s just life, boys and girls: I don´t even have to try, it´s always a good time! (A rather rough paraphrase of Romans 8:28.)

Ode to the Midwest

A week from tomorrow I leave Quito for Christmas break in the most glorious place in the world:

The Midwest.

Cue Hallelujah Chorus.

Here, I formally confess and repent of all slander ever spoken against this dearest of locations.

Dad, enjoy this. I can hear you laughing in triumph from here: YOU WERE RIGHT.

The Midwest is peaceful, not boring.

The people are friendly in a non-intrusive sort of way.

There are delightful country roads, that I think of every time I play "Country Roads" on my guitar (which, by the way, I recently taught to my Intermediate II class and which we sang for the secretaries at CEC, and received a hearty applause).

There are seasons: there´s always a reason to hope for change and new beauty. Cozy winters with hushed, evening walks. Spring times with happy birdies and blossoming flowers (late though they sometimes may be). Warm summers to spend on the lakeside--never too hot. The most brilliant falls with leaves so colorful it takes your breath away. Seasons are good for the soul.

There are friends to be found just a walk, bike ride, or quick trip away.

There´s no ridiculous traffic.

Pollution? Not in our territory.

Creepers? Stick to the coasts. Mostly.

We don´t have impressive mountains, but we have acre upon acre of forest, growing over rolling hills.

We don´t have the ocean, but c´mon: we have the Great Lakes. Best bodies of water. Ever. Especially Lake Superior. It is superior.

We don´t have parasites either. Thank heavens.

Silence exists in the Midwest. It may be the peaceful silence of birds chirping and the wind rustling the new buds of spring time; it may be the perfect stillness of a winter walk in the woods; the silence of waves lapping the shore on a summer night; or the loud silence of the fierce wind on top of Hogback Mountain in the fall, from whose peak you can take in the colored hills and the deep blue of the lake.

The Midwest is family. Warm, fireside conversations. Grandparents a few hours away. Letters that arrive without a glitch; far-distant friends just a phone call away. Crisp apples in the fall, flavorful blueberries in the summer. The home of Hillsdale College.

The Midwest is a land of libraries, delightful coffee shops, barns, rolling farm fields, safety, and security. I think I´m in love.


Someday, I´ll write an ode to Ecuador.

The world's best hug

...and other nice, unexpected things.

It's not even seven AM here in the Ecuadorian Andes, but I'm up and ready to blog. This will get my day going. It's a great Monday, already. 

I've got some French press coffee steeping and lactose-free milk and cinnamon ready to hit and add for my attempt at a latte.

*Oh. Let's look at the above sentence for a moment. I just spelled "heat," "hit." I find a lot of my spelling errors are like that: just like my students' errors. When I see "hit" in my head I'm pronouncing it, "heat." Yikes. This just doesn't have any sense...(and that was intentional Spanglish). Also, is "for" correct? It's so funny to find the linguistics part of your brain taking over when the part that studied spelling in middle school is on vacations. Now, I vaguely remember that in American English, vacation is generally singular...but months of hearing "vacations"/vacaciones has me slightly confused.

...

...Okay, it's hours later. The day is basically over but I've got to get this post done.

And I'm glad I didn't finish this earlier, then I would not have been able to tell of the sweetest moment I've experienced recently: the world's best hug!

How cute are they?! When they all ran to give me a hug, I was in shock. They sang a song to welcome me, then charged forward, at the command of the women working there. It was ridiculously precious. So, anyway, moving on from the highlight of my day. Several friends of mine from CL work at this foundation and invited me for a visit. It's designed to teach families how to better care for their children: hygiene, food, schooling etc. It's associated with the parish there, and seems to be an absolutely wonderful program. They set up nurseries within some family homes, as well as a place for children to come during the day for pre-school, potty training, teeth brushing and all sorts of necessities. I'm hoping if there's ever an opportunity for me to volunteer, I'll be able to make the hour-long commute, via the metro then a bus, and lend a hand.

Let's see, what else is new. My guitar skills are improving and my fingers are so much more calloused. I love playing and singing. As far as theory, I'm fairly clueless, but I think I'll get the hang of it as I go. As a more intuitive than sensing person, I'd rather discover things through actually making use of them. So it goes with this here geetar. 

Thanksgiving here was great, and was a 2-for-1 deal! Both Thursday and Saturday nights, I got to eat turkey, mashed potatoes, and the whole normal spread. Delish. And both were multi-cultural: we had rice and curry from Sri Lanka and egg rolls from the Philippines. Six countries were represented in total at both of my meals: Sri Lanka, the Philippines, the US, Ecuador, Peru, and Italy. It was amazing to speak to people from all over the world, sharing what we're thankful for, and expressing a bit of our culture. I made mashed potatoes and gluten-free gravy. I was quite pleased how it all turned out, though my hands were so tired after peeling thousands of potatoes.

I never expected to have such Thanksgiving celebrations. It was really unique. I am continually astounded by my experiences here. Things are never as I expect them, and often not as I'd prefer them. But, they're always worthwhile. And always memorable.

Later that day, the power went out. Todo, we're not in the first-world anymore. It's funny when the power goes out inexplicably for hours, and I document it with my iPhone...Quite the dichotomy of circumstances. Living by candlelight is so lovely, though. Sometimes.

Sunday was a wonderful day: sushi (!!! (I actually ordered it to my house--and they showed up as planned! I was astonished and happy. A friend and I were dyyiiinnnggg for sushi) then later the Mariscal Sucre theatre, to see West Side Story, and also a double rainbow. Beauty, flavor, and good music. Perfection.







Now, it's really time for bed. I've got Josh Groban singing Christmas lullabies to me, and I plan to drift off to sleep soon...ah, the sweet, sweet sounds of home.

THREE WEEKS AND ONE DAY!

Giving thanks

for Thanksgiving on Thursday. Maybe there's no football or frost on my windows in the morning, but I'm in a beautiful country with Americans to prepare food with and eat lots and lots with and then veg out with.

for the fact that my plans never seem to go the way I envision them, which is generally a good thing and almost always more fun. (See "Carpe Diem")

for friends I've made along the way--in North Carolina and Maryland and Wisconsin and Michigan and from all parts of the country and the world: Spain, Norway, Ecuador, Colombia, Costa Rica, Italy, and more.

for CL. And meaningful conversation.

for nearly four months of being safe in Quito.

for dirty dishes and the free therapy of washing them.

for humongous meals for three dollars. And the best breakfasts for one dollar: two tortillas de verde, an egg, and a cup of coffee in the most interesting market in Quito, a ten-minute walk from my house.

for the most stretching experiences and challenges and growth. Growing pains don't only happen when you're seven.

for awaking easily without an alarm for early, still mornings; when the sky is still pink and full of promise of the sunrise. The view from my terrace is magnificent: volcán Cotopaxi is majestic and snow-capped in the south, and Chimborazo, a silhouette in the north. With a cup of steaming coffee and a chorus of cheerful birds to keep me company, I can breathe deeply and smile with peaceful joy, admiring even this city, which is sometimes my nemesis.

for the fact that back in the States, everything is going to seem so easy and organized. At least for a time.

for my love of beauty and search for truth.

for Hillsdale, and the world's best professors. and for the sisterhood of Pi Beta Phi, MI Alpha.

for the Internet and the ability to communicate (I mean, I get to see that precious bundle of fur thanks to the wonders of the computer!)

for my job and my students, even if they are mischievous at times.

for my sisters and brother and mother and father and dog.

for the chance to cook and clean and the space to have people over; the chance to learn hospitality.

for good health, despite the dubious things I've eaten here.

for St. Francis de Sales.

for good books and poetry.

for my new guitar and the brand new callouses on the fingers of my left hand.

for my new-found love of cooking and my budding skills.

for friends in the northern hemisphere who keep in touch with me, bearing with my complaints and cheering me in my loneliness and sharing in my joy and excitement and adventures. (Like you, reading this blog.)

for every single day of the next month before I get to return home for Christmas break!

No news November

Last week was just your average week of work. I find teaching really can be enjoyable--I am the most surprised-- even though I often have to work up the energy to prepare a lesson and then the courage to march into the room with a smile. It never fails, though. So, I'll just keep on keepin' on.

Due to the slight friend-shortage here, my classes are usually the most amusing moments of my week. CL is always wonderful and valuable, but has an entirely different feel that my oft-rambunctious students. After our Wednesday night meetings though, we frequently get dinner and have lots of fun in our multi-cultural gatherings: we are Italians, Ecuadorians, two Americans, and a Spaniard that often get together.

Pictured: we celebrated the birthdays of a couple friends. Padre Antonio, (far right) our jovial Italian priest, prepared us delicious rabbit, boiled potatoes, steamed vegetables, all paired with a nice white wine for dinner. Then dessert was a chocolate cake which looked scrumptious, and a home-made, sweet desert wine. These Italians know how to dine. I'm learning a thing or two from them--including some Italian! It's always fun to prevent Alzheimer's. And communicate in other people's native language.

With our Padre, other Italians, and a few Ecuadorians, we went on a trip this past weekend! We drove the six hours, stopped by the beach for half a day, and then headed inland from the coast, to a very small community. We had Mass (they have Mass every 15 days, thanks to Padre Antonio) and got to explore and share some of the life of the fewer than 1,000 occupants. Because of the African palm oil industry, these isolated parts of the country do have a lot of traffic in and out, on their dirt and gravel roads. Our trek inward lasted about two hours but was worth every minute. I may have been the only gringa some of the people there had ever seen. We saw everything from rickety, wooden houses on stilts (to keep up off the ground--anything to battle the intense humidity) to well-built houses of cement block, nicely painted, with glass windows. People rode on old mules. And people rode on new motorcycles (entire families in fact: five people was the maximum we saw on one bike. So dangerous!). There was such a blend of wealth and poverty. It was fascinating. Once there was an influx of money to the community for the palms, the first things to be purchased were televisions and stereos. And huge speakers. Reggaetón plays at all hours of any day, just like in Quito. Some things just never change here in Ecuador. Inordinately loud music at inappropriate hours of the morning. Some things I will always fail to understand.

Pictured: outside the home of a friend, with a few of us and his family. (A fascinating fact: there are natural red-heads in Ecuador. Their ancestors came from Spain. And they are as ginger as can be! This guy's littlest sister--middle--had the most beautiful auburn hair. I couldn't believe it. There was even a natural blonde in another little town! I want to learn more about the ancestry of these people.) 

We spent Saturday night in a small community called Zapayo, which translated means "pumpkin." We were shown to the spare rooms of a woman who ran a restaurant. She had to rescue us twice within the first ten minutes before then preparing us dinner. Poor dear. She did it all graciously, though. My failed attempts to kill the enormous cockroach in our bathroom had us all shouting for help and she sauntered in calmly, wondering what on earth could be troubling us after she had just killed a spider in the other bedroom. It was as comfortable as it could have been. Humidity sure leaves beds and pillows with a certain, shall we say, scent. I recall this from Guatemala, too. Things are forever musty when the humidity is so extreme.

And now I'm back in the city, had a pleasant day of work (even lesson-planned for tomorrow already!) and the clocks just struck ten. I'm ready to hit the hay. I close with a small boast: among my new habits of playing guitar and cooking and working fairly diligently at teaching, I make popcorn and delicious caramel corn. Another experiment not gone awry! What luck!

5 weeks to go! 

Carpe diem

43 days to go!

I know, I know. It might be a bit early to be counting down until I get home, but seriously, it's never too early when you're anticipating crisp, white snowfall, family, friends, warm drinks, blazing fires, and conversation. But I don't forget where I am and what I'm doing currently--my life is in Quito right now. I have to focus on my circumstances, as my students love to say, "in these moments," "at this moment", or "actually" (a false cognate). Soon, I'll probably be speaking like an Ecuadorian learning English.

Things here are good and bad. Work gets better as time goes on, but my patience for the city gets tested to a greater extent every day.

I'm not always sure how much more honking, staring, disorganization, or creepy comments I can handle. But, one day at a time! With supernatural aid, I handled Monday's problems, therefore Tuesday's will just have to wait for tomorrow.

Teaching is really enjoyable! I have to laugh as I say this. Let's just take a look at my life and see how often I've been wrong (I literally only learn things the hard way, so it's fairly often I'm wrong...)

Not going to college at all? Went to college.
...at least not college in Michigan, much less Hillsdale? Proud graduate of Hillsdale College, 2012.
Greek life not for me? Pi Beta Phi, 2010 initiate--one of my favorite college decisions.
Catholicism not really where it's at? I am eternally grateful I was wrong.
The Midwest is not really that cool? Now I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!
Was never going to be a teacher? Currently quite happy as an English teacher.

Newest endeavors: guitar and cooking. So far, fairly successful in both as practicing continues. And I definitely had doubts about my capabilities. I'm pleased I'm wrong so often.

What else am I wrong about? Can't wait to find out!

A few stories to wrap things up:

Though teaching is pretty wonderful, there are times when I just can't quite make myself enter the classroom. (Not so much anymore, though.) For example, when Nathalie and I were expected to teach a Conversation Club last cycle--it must have been late in the cycle, we were going a bit mad--we had to run for an absolutely necessary Nutella break. The nearest tienda sells little packets of Nutella for 50 cents and gives a tiny plastic spoon with which to eat it plain. Seriously delish. So, armed with chocolate reinforcements, we marched back into CEC but realized that it took a little longer to eat than expected. On the way up to the 5th floor, we had to delay our arrival in the elevator, going multiple times between the negative third floor and the eighth, of course dying of laughter the entire time. Roughly ten minutes late, we scurried into class, wiping the remains of Nutella off our faces...I'm not sure this was the wisest of choices, but it was hilarious. It won't happen again. But, desperate times call for desperate measures...and the sweet, gooey, goodness of hazelnut and chocolate.

Last week in Conversation Club, one of the students whom I also had last cycle started quoting from memory "Margaret, are you grieving over Goldengrove unleaving?..." And I almost started weeping. This job is especially wonderful when students really invest themselves! ..I even shared some of my own poetry with them last cycle. I so rarely do that. In addition to GM Hopkins, we also discussed Shakespeare, a bit of Aquinas, and I made a few book recommendations. Now, I've got 'em reading The Brothers Karamazov! Good heavens! It's fantastic! I have so much more freedom in the conversation classes, but I still introduce as much topics of substance as I can in my Advanced and Intermediate grammar classes. What's the use of a language if you can't discuss the good, true, and beautiful? Today we had oral exams and I love getting to know the students better: why they're studying English, a favorite childhood memory, etc. It's fascinating.

Unfortunately, I'll end on a somewhat sour, but amusing, note. I was walking home from Mass at the Basilica yesterday, and bemoaning the fact I was walking the streets alone, feeling fairly unsafe, and repenting of my shoe choice, among other complaints. Of the several creepy-ish people I passed, I unfortunately happened to glance at an elderly (mid 60s) security guard at a store. My mistake. "¿Preciosa...por qué estás tan sola?" Ew. Don't call me precious. And you wonder why I'm so alone? Yeah. So do I. At times like these, I wish I had some big guy with a good fist handy...I did laugh to myself though. He asked me the precise question I was asking myself.

So, that's my life: the good, the bad, the ugly, and the hilarious. It's what I've got.

And if it occasionally gets too crazy, I might just have to return to Papallachta, a natural hot spring I went to with some friends on Saturday. One of the many benefits of living in Ecuador: natural beauty abounds once you escape the bustling city life.

Happy birthday, Val! Now all of these kids are in their 20s.

Routine

Now that I've just begun my second cycle of teaching--new students, new schedule--I feel more accustomed to my job. Finally.

Instead of preparing less for work now, I'm taking the time to create lesson plans with a bit more care, and enhance the ones from last cycle. It's rewarding in the classroom, as the students learn things well and generally have more fun when I've put in an effort, and it makes my life more peaceful. There's no need to worry when things are ready before each class, and I'm not studying the unit in the elevator ride to the eighth floor, wracking my brain for ideas. Doing things poorly is just dumb and stressful.

Aside from the work routine, the rest of my life is mostly as spontaneous and hard-to-plan as it's been these three months. But, I wonder if life ever has that sense of tranquility and routine I'm looking for anywhere on the globe. I do my best to schedule my day and generally succeed, but hours of heavy downpour, slow buses, expensive taxis, unexpected visitors, foolishness etc, can throw a wrench into any well-made plans.


My newest hobby, and a skill I've wanted to cultivate for some time now: the guitar. I bought it over a week ago and have been fairly faithful in practicing.

I recently auditioned for, and was accepted into, a local Christmas choir! Two of our concerts will be in the beautiful Iglesia de San Francisco. It should be a good time.


Had you asked me several years ago, I never would have envisioned saying it, but here it is: I miss the Midwest! It's "funny" (not) how I seem to only learn the hard way. I had to come to the equator to miss my corner of the calm, reliable Midwest: with its changing seasons, green forests, clear lakes, hills, fresh air, and room to stretch. I want to better learn how to appreciate what I have when I have it--rather than miss it once it's gone.

Today's beautiful moment: I really needed a hug this morning. And I found one in the eleventh chapter of Hosea. The imagery is glorious.

So, here's to the next seven weeks of lesson planning, toughening up my fingers, trying to live peacefully and joyfully, and enjoying each moment of life here before Christmas in the States!

The Jungle Post

Here I am, one day late. I couldn’t bring myself to write last night because a)I just wanted to sleep, b)I wasn’t sure how I was going to recount the happenings of the past week: the Amazon rainforest, a wedding, a day trip to a national reserve etc., and c)I was not up for writing and didn’t have the energy to put on an upbeat voice in my post and I really didn’t feel like inviting my readers to a pity party. (I shudder at the thought.) You can thank me later.

Now, 24 hours after originally planning to write, I’m back. Ready to go!

Vacation was great, but I realize that by the end of those fifteen days I think I had gone a little stir-crazy--hence the moodiness, etc. I can’t go that long without being a productive human being: it’s just not in me. Today was back to work, in the classroom with new faces, new subjects to teach, and it was good. I’m glad to have people to think about other than myself. 

But honestly, I would almost rather be in the jungle. It was FANTASTIC! Getting there was quite an adventure in itself--an 8-hour bus ride, a 2-hour bus ride, a 3-hour motorized canoe ride, and then finally, finally we arrived. 


There were three of us on our tour--it's a low season right now. My friend Debbie and I were joined by an Australian, who was on his eighth week of travel Wow.


(NOTE: For the life of me, I don't know why the format of the rest of this post is messed up. And I'm too tired to struggle to fix it any longer. Sorry.)

We were there for four glorious days. We did quite a variety of things: early-morning bird watching, late night walks through the jungle (so many frogs and spiders and bats and even a jungle mouse!), swinging on vines, I managed to climb about 3 meters up a vine, too; swimming in a river (it took us a while to work up the courage), pirana fishing, cayman hunting, tracking pink river dolphins, etc. We ate live ants! They tasted like lemon, seriously. Kind of tasty. And...BUG LARVAE! It was inside a small coconut found in the jungle. First, we ate the coconut and our guide told us how sometimes larvae grew inside the coconut and ate the fruit and fit snugly into the little space. I thought that sounded kind of gross. Then, lo and behold, the next coconut we came across had the very larva in it. We were told it tasted like the coconut it had been feasting on and that we should try it. Well. Try it we did. It was the squishiest, juiciest, coconut flavored morsel I've ever eaten. The thought of it now kind of turns my stomach. But it was a unique experience alright. Definitely glad to say I did it.

Fishing for pirañas was so much fun. I never before imagined fishing with bits of beef. It's kind of intimidating: they wouldn't go for anything besides flesh. Ew. So many times they escaped with the meat, though--those tricky little guys! I finally caught one, stared into its defiant, beady red eyes, avoided those razor sharp teeth, smiled for the camera and then tossed it back in the river. I'm quite happy I never got bit!

The most thrilling event was cayman hunting. Or rather, cayman searching, as we didn’t want to kill the dear little creatures. I don’t know what it is about jungle animals and their tendency to be rather frightening, but cayman have red eyes, too. At least, they reflect red in the light at night. We boarded the canoe, went up and down the river with our flash lights shining along the bank and came across a cayman. Everyone hushed as we shut off the motor and glided up toward it, using a paddle and the moonlight. Then as we approached, turned on the light, our guide leaned over the side of the boat and grabbed it by its neck and tail. Man, do those things cry when they’re distressed! It was amusing. We were all excited and started taking photos and oohing and such. I reached out to touch its rough, leathery skin as it was flailing in the guide’s grip. Then--

It got loose! It dropped to the floor of the canoe, I think I leapt over it as it fled in a panic below my seat and continued on back through the canoe, crying for its mother or something, into the awaiting arms of our friendly Australian zookeeper. He happens to work with reptiles, too. What luck! 

Tangent alert: On the way out to the lodge, we were chatting and I found out he was Australian, a zookeeper, and worked with reptiles: therefore I immediately thought of Steve Irwin. I half-jokingly asked him if he had known him. HE HAD! He worked for six years at the Australia Zoo, just like Steve. I couldn’t believe it. I told him about how when I was twelve, I had a “pet” garden snake in my back yard and named him Steve. I miss Steve Irwin. 

So, anyway, our Aussie scooped up the cayman and we all laughed and breathed a sigh of relief. After traumatizing the poor thing a little more, we let him back into the water. Later in the evening we saw several more sets of glowing eyes, had some unsuccessful attempts to capture the creatures they belonged to, and then actually saw a cayman we would never want in our boat: it was two meters long!

I went cayman hunting again another night, this time unofficially with a guide/camp assistant. We were joking about it, as he had been quite unnerved by the previous cayman incident, but I said “No, seriously. Let’s go.” Thus, he and I set off in the dark, armed with a paddle and a flashlight. It was entirely unsuccessful and hilarious. We saw about four cayman and they kept eluding us. But, there’s absolutely nothing disappointing about not getting a cayman when you’re paddling around in the dark, through warm, humid air, enjoying a stillness accompanied by a lovely chorus of frogs, monkeys and birds, punctuated by a fish jumping now and then. No, indeed. I couldn’t have cared less if we got a cayman or not. And probably, as I had bare feet, it was better to leave with all of my toes intact.

The best part of the experience was what wasn’t there: pollution, buses, cars, beeping, hoards of people, mirrors, bathing, concerns about clothing, cold weather, technology, urgency. None of that. 

Instead we had hammocks, evenings of reading by candlelight, freshly caught pirana for dinner, conversation and card games, unbelievable natural beauty, grubs and bugs to munch on, natural cures for mosquito bites and more. 

We would go to bed early, maybe around nine or ten (but then again, we were never sure of the time). When it’s dark and you’ve got candles and one light bulb, nothing seems too tempting to keep you from sleeping. I would wake with the bird calls (my favorite is the Oropendula bird call: Google it) and the sun, at about six AM, I believe. The mosquito nets worked well. Most of the bites I’m covered with now occurred during the hours of walking in the woods. Every one is worth it.

One of my favorite moments was paddling out on my own in the big wooden canoe at six AM. The sun was just barely up, the monkeys, birds, frogs, crickets, and fish were becoming more active: it was me, them, and the river. The entire experience was unforgettable.

I did used to say I’d live in the jungle though (when my dreams tended in an entirely different direction). I must say that as much as I loved it, I wouldn’t ever live there long term. I’m glad to get it “out of my system.” People, technology, transportation, conversation about literature, art, film, mirrors, schedules, etc.--that’s the stuff of the life I know. And it is good.

This has become too long: I must end now.

The wedding I went to on Saturday was so full of beauty and love that my eyes were welling with tears throughout the entire Mass. It was the first Catholic wedding I’ve been to, of many more to come I hope, and I can’t imagine a more glorious event and demonstration of the love of God. 

I went to Antisana on Sunday, a volcano and national reserve right outside of Quito. Although it was freezing weather, it was lovely to see a lake, and the expansive green and brown hillsides and meadows with no human touch damaging the view. 

Man, oh man. I am not a city girl at all. All the more reason to embrace this most wonderful opportunity to learn contentment! With so much good, how can I not be content?

And now, I best be off. Gosh, it’s already nine o’clock. It’s getting near my bedtime.

See the rest of my photos--click here!

A tourist in Bogs boots

Today, I will attempt to rescue this blah-g and restore it to a blog: hopefully engaging, and if not, at least readable. For whatever reason, the last few posts have left me rather dissatisfied. Perhaps the trouble was more my outlook on life than the content itself, but nevertheless, I shall press on.

I've been playing the tourist here over the last week, as I'm on vacation (what a wonderful time of rest it's been!). Earlier in the break I was still recovering from the flu or whatever illness it was that attacked me. I am still congested, a week and a half later. I'm eating oranges and drinking tea and relaxing though, so sooner or later, my body will heal itself. I think the cause is the pollution here. It's dreadful. Quito lies in a valley, creating a nice little mixing bowl for the bus exhaust and smoke and other things that gunk up one's lungs and nasal cavities.

This city does have its beauty though. The historic center, for example, is reminiscent of Spain and the open plazas, beautiful old churches, and narrow, brick streets are a great escape from the smoggy, busy roads where I work and live.

On Friday I explored the historic center for the first time. (I confess I won't go alone again--I was the only blonde I saw for several hours and those same lovely, narrow streets seem just a bit unnerving when people keep hissing at you and talking at you, and who-knows-who could come around a corner when you're alone.) I left my house in the early afternoon--smack in the middle of the rainy part of the day--so I prepared for a downpour. I donned my Bogs boots, grabbed my rain coat and some cash, and headed out.

I arrived by trolley and roamed around the center, refusing to take the map out of my bag, and instead pretending like I knew where I was going. I walked through various plazas, popped into some shops with over-priced trinkets, admired the architecture, and gazed at the stately old churches.

 I arrived at the Basilica, which I've been wanting to visit forever, and the chapel of the Virgin Mary was stunning. An official copy of the Virgin de Guadalupe is making its way around South America, and people lined up the whole length of the Basilica to get a chance to see it. (Also, see the yellow jerseys people are wearing? Ecuador had a game that day. Soccer is Ecuador's number one religion. Catholicism is number two.)

The funniest moment of the day occurred as I was walking back toward la Iglesia de San Francisco. I passed by several shops that sold hand-crafted leather boots--they're always tempting. I briefly paused, which is the last thing you want to do at someone's store. I was approached immediately by the owner and greeted heartily. Translated: "Come on in! Check out these boots! They're beautiful, no?" I admitted I liked them, but I wasn't interested in purchasing. He paused to look at my cool new rain boots, made a comment on them, and I said it was too bad it hadn't rained much so I could use them. I was about to leave, when he engaged in conversation with one more trick up his sleeve. He said "Where are you from?" (He used the third person singular which is also for the formal "you.") Therefore, I answered him as if he had been talking about my pair of boots and said they were from the States. "And you?" he chuckled. "Same," I said and started walking away. "They're ugly!" he cried. I laughed and said they were lovely and therefore there was no need for me to buy more boots. He nodded, smiled, and waved good-bye. If I ever need boots in the future, maybe I will give him my business.

The next vendor who accosted me was a woman selling scarves out of a big, black garbage back in the plaza, pictured above. I chatted with her too, and ended up getting three scarves for several dollars. I've become quite the bargainer.

Apparently, blond hair shouts "Sell me something!" It also says "I'm an alien here." I do feel a great sense of camaraderie upon seeing fellow blonds. I often just want to walk up, shake their hand, and thank them for being a rarity like me. But usually, I just look at them and imperceptibly smile, since smiling on the streets here is reserved for friends alone.

I was waiting in line to buy tickets at the bus terminal, when I found myself standing behind a head of blonde hair. It belonged to a German woman, who was traveling with her husband. They stood there, dictionary in hand, trying to buy a ticket but left unsuccessfully. I purchased my tickets and found them still standing outside the terminal, talking to one another. I almost walked right by them, but realized I didn't want to pass up the chance to both lend a hand and try out my rusty German. "Kann ich Ihnen helfen?" I asked, and the husband responded immediately a torrent of German. I miraculously understood everything. (!!!) They had to get to another city to visit their daughter, but the bus tickets were sold out. Therefore, they had to go to another terminal for a later departure. I mustered up a few other phrases, agreed that that was the best option, and wished them luck. It was a thrilling few minutes. I love communicating in other languages. Someone at Hillsdale should tell Dr. Geyer--he would be proud of me!

I've run into many other tourists recently, too, as I keep visiting the touristic hot spots. The weekend artisan/indigenous market in El Egido park is great. I like being in the park, seeing some green grass and a few trees, and having room to escape eager vendors if need be. I bought all sorts of things that day (so many Christmas gifts for my dear family and friends! HOORAY! Buying them now just reminds me of how soon I'll be home, surrounded by beautiful friendships, sipping hot drinks, watching snow flakes drift down to the earth--such cozy, peaceful moments filled with love). Anyway. I saw lots of foreigners and I love trying to decipher where they're from or what language they speak. Americans I can detect right away, because we smile. Yes, our big, American grins are unmistakable. Europeans don't exactly walk around with a smile plastered on their face, but we do. And why not? If you find yourself a foreign country, surrounded by inexpensive but lovely things, enjoying a lovely day in a park?

There was one particular American couple I saw several times. Fanny packs, grins and all, they were stereotypical: it made me happy to see them. At one booth, they had paused and I heard the booming voice of the man (because, as we all know, one's volume is proportional to the ability to comprehend a foreign language). He had a large, wooden skull in his hand and was gesturing about it to the confused vendor. I asked the wife if I could help them, she said I certainly could. The man wanted to know the significance of the skull. I asked the vendor, he said there was none. I told the American man it was just for art's sake (and in my head: "And for people like you to buy thinking it has some Amazonian meaning.."). He thanked me kindly, didn't buy it, grinned his big grin and moved along. I saw them later, again enjoyed smiling at strangers, and continued to my own successful bargaining.

Some recent adventures within my own house include: pumpkin carving, toasting pumpkin seeds, caramel corn, and soon to come: gluten-free pumpkin bread! I'm not wasting any of the pumpkin.


Want to see more photos? Click here.




Last week I also got to make a new friend! She's from Belgium and we have mutual friends in Spain. What a small world! She, my roommate, and I went out for lunch at an amazing restaurant. Delicious coastal food and the world's best drink: coconut smoothies.

The absolute greatest treat of the weekend was getting to call people in the States! I found the location with the lowest prices. 6 cents a minute--some places try to charge 25 cents. As if. Now I can have a long, wonderful conversation for the price of a cheap coffee. I'd rather the communication over the caffeine any day.

And those bus tickets I was buying? They are taking me east. To the realization of a childhood dream: I'm going to the Amazon! If I survive, expect next week's post to be full of tales of cayman, pink dolphins, monkeys, canoeing adventures, and more.

My first last day

This is the best final exam day of my life--because I'm not the one taking the exams!

My first cycle of teaching is over today. I have been here in Quito for 2.25 months, and it has been good. Every day of teaching was a challenge, as students had new questions to ask that I had to answer with more than "it just sounds right" and some days I was exhausted, but if I walked in with a low energy level, the following two hours would have dragged by miserably. Therefore, I've worked a bit on the simple virtue of cheerfulness and it's been quite beneficial.

On a recent review day we played Jenga (everyone had to answer one of my questions before they got to play). This class built one of the highest Jenga towers I have ever seen.

(Side note, inspired by current events: people here in Ecuador do not understand what time is appropriate to make lots of noise. One should not play reggaeton before ten in the morning, and preferably not before ten at night. Living next door to the college gets me two things: free, borrowed internet and slightly obnoxious college ruckus.)

Anyway, I'll press on and ignore the driving rhythm of my next door neighbor's music.

Vacation couldn't have come at a more perfect time. I need to rest much because I'm sick. Quite sick. It might be the flu or strep or a sinus infection. I've been perfectly well since my arrival here, so it's really nothing to complain about. With some Vitamin C, tea, and rest, I'll be right as rain in no time. I need to buy more oranges today, in fact, when I finally leave the house for work. I only left the house once this weekend, to go to Mass yesterday. Otherwise I've been resting, sleeping, reading, writing e-mails and cleaned the kitchen yesterday morning since I somehow awoke with enough energy. I got up at 6:20...because I went to bed at 9. The latest I've gone to bed in the last three days is 9:30 PM. So, I've been waking naturally before the sun, well before the sun. On Friday, I woke up at five! It was magnificent! I heard NOTHING BUT BIRDS! I groggily padded over to the window and peered out to see that the sky was grey and so cloudy I couldn't even make out the volcano I typically see right in my backyard.

Aside from the joy of waking to nothing but nature's delightful melody, I had a laugh at my feverish dreams. Before even enjoying the birds' songs, I realized I had dreamed the most unusual thing: I had married the wrong person! And couldn't even recall who he was. I awoke with so much regret, but I knew I had to make it work. Then it hazily occurred to me that it wasn't real life. Then I prayed to St. Raphael. Then, in a few minutes, I was fully coherent laughed at myself and was relieved I hadn't made so grave a mistake.

Saturday's dream was rather more pleasant, but then reality disappointed me. I thought there was snow outside! Then, awake again at 6 AM, I confirmed to myself that I was indeed in Quito and chances were slim to none I would see the white, fluffy stuff. I can't believe I was disappointed by the lack of snow, but there it is. I am truly missing the seasons I find in my delightful corner of the Midwest. I also dreamed I was back at Hillsdale, maybe for Homecoming, and an old friend of mine absolutely would not talk to me. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

 Better than dreams is my real life: I snapped this photo last week as I went to Mass. It's such a pleasant walk to my church, especially early in the morning. And now, in the "winter," I walk in the fresh, cool morning weather under a cloud-covered sky to get to 7 AM Mass.

In other news, I've accustomed myself to taking the bus home. While I would infinitely prefer walking, it's just not an option. The road home isn't at all safe. But, I wouldn't feel half as triumphant if I merely walked home. There's something so victorious about boarding the bus, knowing it's the right one (or asking if necessary) and just riding home for a mere 25 cents. There I stand--I don't often find a seat--fighting for balance in the crazily driven vehicle, surrounded by a sea of dark skin and black hair.

Over my break, I plan to become more of a tourist. I've hardly seen much of Quito! In a recent excursion, I went to la Virgen del Panecillo. It's as statue of the Blessed Virgin--and is unique in the fact she has wings, as well as a serpent at her feet. It provides a wonderful view of the city! (See photo of my friend--and second roommate--Luis and me.)

  

I am really excited to buy Christmas gifts too! I'm going to go crazy at all the markets here, bartering like a pro. I'm so thrilled to be spending a cozy Christmastime in Michigan. The other night, I was lying in bed and half dreaming, half imagining a scene of myself with a group of friends, cuddled up around a roaring fire, sipping warm drinks and chatting...and it made me cry just a bit! 

I've teared up at Mass, laughed and cried at sweet proposal stories, spent time looking at photos from college and from home...who am I? So weepy these days.

I am happy here and learning contentment like St. Paul talks about: in hardship and in abundance, etc. But I think I owe this new-found emotionalism to a) nostalgia and loneliness and b) being in touch with my emotions. I'm extremely pleased about reason b. I haven't always expressed the whole array of my emotions, but how am I supposed to live and enjoy a full life if I'm not an entirely cohesive human being? We can't just shut off part of our lives, desires, emotions, or thoughts. It's been good. I have to thank St. Francis de Sales and my brother for a bit of help with that.

Bad news: Chavez was (dubiously) re-elected in Venezuela today. I recently found out that he and Correa, Ecuador's president, are quite chummy. That is unsettling. The other candidate was a promising, 30-year old, Polish Jew.

And now, a few closing thoughts from Manalive by G.K. Chesterton:

 "This round road I am treading is an untrodden path. I do believe in breaking out; I am a revolutionist. But don't you see that all these real leaps and destructions and escapes are only attempts to get back to Eden--to something we have had, to something we at least have heard of? Don't you see one only breaks the fence or shoots the moon in order to get HOME?'

"`I mean,' he said with increasing vehemence, `that if there be a house for me in heaven it will either have a green lamp-post and a hedge, or something quite as positive and personal as a green lamp-post and a hedge. I mean that God bade me love one spot and serve it, and do all things however wild in praise of it, so that this one spot might be a witness against all the infinities and the sophistries, that Paradise is somewhere and not anywhere, is something and not anything. And I would not be so very much surprised if the house in heaven had a real green lamp-post after all.'

...or a fireplace and softly falling snow, and leaves that change color and fall down, and sudden, warm rain showers on a sunny day.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

I was certainly not wishing I was stoned. But sometimes there is something in a Sunday that makes a body feel alone. Yesterday, though, I was happy in my solitude. Walking home from Mass, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the cars weren't honking too much, nor were the buses exhaling their nausious fumes too intensely. And I strolled through the mini-park I pass by to get to church and I purposely veered off the path to walk on the grass under the shade of the trees. It was an exquisite forty-five seconds. Life is beautiful.

Sunday Morning Coming Down -- Johnny Cash

And now, it's October? October! Two months down, quite a few to go. I have triumph to report: I haven't looked up tickets to go home yet. A dear friend remarked to me how I am "always looking up tickets." I am happy to say that, even in the most desperate of times here, I haven't researched flights home on Kayak or anything. Not a one!

Contentment. I might just be learning it. I used to get restless every two years or so, often even more frequently. Restless for change, because new surroundings help us escape from ourselves and things we don't want to confront or address in our lives or our actions. At least, I surmise that's part of my old wanderlust.

It's better to embark on the adventure of learning about myself, the human being and his purpose, joy, and the lovely world around me--no matter what spot on the globe. Perhaps I can say, like in Shakespeare's "As You Like It"

Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I: 
when I was at home, I was in a better place: 
but travellers must be content."

Now whether I be in Arden or Quito or Hillsdale or Seville or Marquette or who knows where the future may take me--I must be content, for I have every reason to be so!

And I have one confession. How I miss Hillsdale sometimes! My friends knew it would be so, no matter how vehemently I denied it. And yes, indeed, I look back on that wonderful time and I'm so thankful for the friends, the faith, and the fun that dear little campus helped provide. Had I been slightly more content, would I have enjoyed the time even more? Little good it does to question--only now I must learn to embrace each moment of life here. Wherever here is.

 Two-thousand words: Quito makes me laugh. The mall was decked out for Christmas...and it was only September 27. I am happy to think of how I'm spending Christmastime in the States! 

And the second photo, a lovely sunset o'er my dear Quito. I had seen a hint of color out my window, and dashed to the roof to see the glory of nature, and watch the eye of heaven pass to another side of the world.

Dreams of pumpkin spice lattes

...corn mazes, brilliantly changing leaves, and other bits of autumnal beauty. Fall is on my mind. (Every person on Facebook posted a status about fall recently, I swear.) But alas, here on the equator, those things don't exist. Though, goodness knows, we have enough corn here that the entire population of the country could be lost in corn mazes simultaneously, or rather, maize mazes. (Punny, I know.) I believe there are at least nine varieties of corn. I've probably tried two or three of them.

This longing for crisp breezes and apple cider weather brought me to a Gerard Manley Hopkins poem. I didn't cover any Shakespeare in class this week, but I got my own, personal dose of poetry anyway:

Spring and Fall:
                to a Young Child
   Margaret, are you grieving
   Over Goldengrove unleaving?
   Leaves, like the things of man, you
   With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
   Ah! as the heart grows older
   It will come to such sights colder
   By and by, nor spare a sigh
   Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
   And yet you will weep and know why.
   Now no matter, child, the name:
   Sorrow's springs are the same.
   Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
   What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
   It is the blight man was born for,
   It is Margaret you mourn for. 

Except, I'm grieving over Quito not unleaving. And, my name's not Margaret. Otherwise, ol' Gerry is spot on. Our mortality, brought about by the Fall, is sorrow's spring, no matter the way it's ultimately expressed. Yet, I want to keep my heart in a springtime cheer, practicing the virtue of hope, no matter the fallen, fall-less world I'm currently living in. I am missing pumpkin spice lattes, hay rides, and comfort with the infinite: our once-perfect union with the Creator.

The solution? Hope.

It's such a joy to be able to use the word "hopefully" correctly! I walked down the street hopefully today, hopefully listening to great music. I gave exams hopefully (and gleefully...mostly kidding). I forgot to be hopeful sometimes and got bogged down with frustrations. Then I was hopefully plodding along again, happy to have realized my error and to have corrected it. Another reason to be hopeful and happy: we can recognize when we're not at peace as we should be! Hopeful for peace, joy, yummy pumpkin spice lattes, and salvation.

So, besides such things as hope, dreams of large orange vegetables, and a good life soundtrack (walking down a city street listening to cool jams is epic and a lot less annoying than hearing all the nonsense going on, beeping, shouting etc.), there is rain. Lots and lots of rain. I'm glad I brought rain boots and a great rain jacket (purchases inspired by friends in Portland, OR). Now, I finally get to use them!

Friday was the first time I saw an Ecuadorian rain fall! I snapped these photos during my 2:00-4:00 PM class. We all crowded around the window and I taught them the words "pouring," and then "hail!"

It probably would have really hurt to have been outside in that weather, pelted by chunks of ice. It's definitely time to invest in a sturdy umbrella. My kids started throwing them at each other, and one poor boy got about three down his shirt. I swiftly resumed teaching..



My vacations start in two weeks. I finish up this week and the next, then an exam, and then---FREEEEEEEDOM! For fifteen days, at least. I haven't a clue as to what I shall do. The jungle? The beach? Explore the city like a tourist? I really haven't been much of a tourist here yet, so it's probably about time. I haven't seen the literal site of the equator, I haven't been to the Cathedral or the Basilica..those will be phenomenal visits. And I'm thrilled that I will be able to buy Christmas gifts and things for people too--hooray! During the teaching cycle, free time is scarce.

I want to write some letters too, and I'll have time to mail them! And, to go shopping! I pride myself on having very few articles in my wardrobe and not needing much. But wow, it's about time to help myself out. And now that I'm a working woman (...ha) I feel justified in spending just a fraction of my paycheck to clothe myself.

I would like to WWOOF a bit, too. And most definitely, visit the best park in the city--la Metropolitana. I hear it's a forest, and there are places to go without seeing anything man-made! I'm dying to go. It will refresh my soul. Speaking of souls, a newly-made friend (from CL) is getting married and I'll be attending the wedding. What a joyous event that will be!

So those are my hopes, dreams, and schemes for my short break. While I do not want to get caught up in them and waste the next fourteen days thinking about the future, it is lovely to pause during the workday and think on such pleasant things.

 Leaves, like the things of man, you
   With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? 

Leaves end up in compost heaps, riches eaten by moths, adventures fade into dull memories...but each in its time is a wonder!

Might I add that I am ecstatic this poem includes a tag question: "can you?" This week's grammar includes tag questions, thus I will be introducing the poem in my Advanced II classes without a doubt. I'm excited!