Quito: An introduction

It's just Monday afternoon and I arrived here Thursday night. Somehow I feel as if I've been here forever, and yet everything is new. It's an odd sensation, but not at all unpleasant. Thanks to Luke, my connection here in Ecuador, I've met many people and have already spent hours (and hours) getting to know them. More to come on that.

I'm currently sitting here on the floor in the corner of my bedroom, borrowing the Internet from my kind neighbor, the Universidad Central de Ecuador. My apartment is great and my roommate Angie and I seem to get along quite well. 

I have a cozy room with space for a twin bed, a dresser, and a night stand. I'm infusing my personality into it too, through photos, art, books etc. I've noticed people do not personalize their living spaces here. Which I find somewhat unusual. My favorite aspect of my room is the view from the window: I look out onto some mountains! And exiting the front door is even better--three peaks are visible, two of which are volcanoes (I think), covered in snow!

I stick out like a sore thumb here, of course. Especially in my neighborhood. But, I don't mind too much. Although I am rather conspicuous, I don't feel particularly unsafe in the area. Quito is not a city to mess with though, so I don't plan on pulling any stunts like walking alone in the wee hours of the morning like I just may have done in Sevilla.

I'm rather far away from the shores of Lake Superior.

Saturday I went to a barbecue with people involved in Campus Crusade here in Quito. Following my attempt to eat an enormous plate of different types of meat and a strange ear of corn, several of us decided to walk around and maybe see a concert in the city's historic district. That expedition turned into an hours-long journey. I got to the barbecue at one in the afternoon, I believe, and went home at a little before nine at night. Eight hours is quite a long time. As I told Luis, a new friend, I don't think I'll get used to that sort of socialization. He said I will probably catch the same contagious social 'bug' that people seem to get here and gladly spend hours upon hours with others. I remain doubtful. My introverted side protests.

My favorite spot so far has been the mercado de Santa Clara, just a few minutes' walk from my house. I dropped by there this morning and got a freshly blended juice made solely from alfalfa, blackberry, and carrot. For $1.25! This is way better than a Naked juice and a quarter of the price. Delightful. Then I picked up fruits and vegetables and made a great salad for lunch. Gluten-free living here isn't going to be hard, the only actual challenge is explaining to people why I won't eat bread, pizza, pasta, buñuelos, etc. The words rye and barley didn't often come up in my Spanish classes.

Culturally, it's what I expected. It reminds me much of Sevilla (beware, generalizations ahead): lack of chivalry, the sexualization of everyone and everything, the surprising kindness and friendliness of some people, and the shocking creepiness of others. It's a very speech-oriented culture. Books, even signage, don't get much attention. (Possibly influenced by indigenous peoples, whose languages were only written down within the last few decades.) Why read for yourself if you can ask someone for directions, for what time the bus leaves, etc? It's very different from the States, of course. There's something nice about using other people as resources and relying on one another to get things done, but the inefficiency that arises is not as enjoyable. Being alone is often seen as negative, too. I do beg to differ.

So, all cultures have strengths and flaws when compared with others. I'm currently examining a flaw. My ol' motto "People are people, too" almost doesn't apply here. (And by that motto I mean: the myriad thoughts, emotions, decisions running through your head are just as abundant in the minds of those you pass on the street, or who serve you in the check-out line, or who tailgate you on the highway. We are all souls endowed with reason and passion, no matter the ratio in which we exercise them.) Back to what I meant to say...People here are seen more as--pardon the expression--'pieces of meat' than living, breathing, human beings. And lest you think I stand alone on the soap box, the phrase came from a conversation with Luke, who certainly has much more experience here. And so, if we see others purely from a physical standpoint, what are we but material things? The way we treat ourselves has a direct influence on the way we treat others. How much of life are we missing out on if we are tossed about by waves of passion and emotion, doing things on a whim, justifying ourselves because what we want to do brings momentary pleasure? Acting solely from an emotional and physical standpoint, life isn't abundant, it's messy and full of tears, highs and lows, infidelity and instability. It's like spoiled childhood. Who wants that? Let's let reason govern us too, for goodness' sake (literally).

Yet, there is something healthy within the physicality of the culture. The body is a good thing. And here it is recognized as such (though the recognition can border on obsession). In America, I rather think we are prone to hate our bodies and things physical. (Blame it on the Puritans or Hollywood, or both). Friday night, I heard a story about a Venezuelan telling an American girl, who had eaten a good deal over Christmas break, that she was looking a little chubby (gordita, which is in the diminutive, i.e. not insulting). That is in no way an unkind thing to say here, in fact, it means you look healthy and well-nourished. The poor girl cried and stayed in her house for a week. What are we telling ourselves in the States? That the number on the scale is inversely proportional to your worth as a person? Good grief. The dichotomy between the healthier view of the body and its irrational use for pleasure is a case for further study.

Blah blah blah.

I conclude by saying I really do love it here! It's refreshing for me to realize I am an adult woman from the United States and I can do what I want, and decide to fit into the culture to the extent I so choose (see how I've rather shaped it into a mantra?). In the past, my absolute immersion into cultures found me in some limbo between American and foreigner, without a grasp on what I wanted, or ought, to do. This will be a totally different experience.

I found a church right down the street and have been to two Masses. I can't wait to explore the many others. The bells of the nearby church ring to the tune of a song I sang in St. Anthony's! The first morning I heard that I was over-joyed.

Time to go, until next week, my friends.