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.