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.