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.