It's been a while

"Oh, these times, they are a-changin'"

Well, friends. I almost feel odd returning to my blog after such an absence. But, for the sake of efficiency (not reporting my whereabouts etc. to everyone individually), and because I do truly enjoy writing, I might return to the ol' web-log once more. I mean, the plan is to provide you all with updates more frequent than once every three months.

What's new? In the States I have friends getting married, having babies, moving across the country, losing their parents, getting jobs, breaking up, and friends who have time to enjoy a good book and a Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks (or I suppose now it would be a Peppermint something-or-other...) (Side note: Starbucks has never sounded so good to me as now. I am sure reality would disappoint, but my imagination tells me that Christmas-in-a-cup-of-frothy-milk latte would be absolutely delicious at this moment.)

Here on the equator I have two big life events coming up: I am leaving my job and moving.

For the past year and a half the world's highest capital city, Quito, has been home. And now, I will be heading to Portoviejo (which means "old port"), a city on the coast of Ecuador, in a matter of weeks. In fact, I am currently in Portoviejo because of a four-day weekend! Today is Quito's 4th of July.

On leaving my job. I have been teaching English in a continued learning center that belongs to Ecuador's best university, la Escuela Politécnica Nacional. It's been good. I think the greatest challenge is the lack of continuity with the students. Every two months I've found myself with up to 60 new faces staring at me. 60 new names. 60 new reasons to work, or dislike work. 60 new people with stories you  may never know. Also, I am not called to teach. For the time being, I am called to work, so teaching it is! But, I do not hope to do it long term. Work for me has never been the most satisfying thing, but teaching certainly hasn't seemed to be my niche. We'll see. I will continue to teach, only online instead. And most likely in a university here in Portoviejo, among other myriad possibilities. I am content and unconcerned about the job. Something else great will come along--it always does.

 

On moving. Why am I moving? Well, I just want to be closer to the guy in the above photo. My boyfriend Patricio and I have been together for eight months--all long distance. For those of you Midwesterners who know what I'm talking about, the equivalent is this: I live in Detroit and he lives in Marquette. (The city and natural beauty etc. apply in this comparison, as well as the distance.) So, yeah, that's been quite a while of commuting on weekends to see each other. I am thankful for it though. It's been a great challenge. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, so they say.  I won't miss the 8-hour overnight bus rides, or even the 40-minute plane ride. Or the constant good-byes. I can't wait to go out for dinner after work...what a novelty!


I hope you have seen in the photos how beautiful the coast is. I love the warmth, I love waking up to chirping birds at sunrise, the fresh breezes, the easy drive to the ocean, the delicious food and amazingly friendly people. Manabí is the province of which Portoviejo is the capital, and it is the heart of Ecuador. Best food and and people and beaches, hands down. (I've always wondered: why is it the the warmer the climate, the warmer the people?)

So, having said all that, I hope you all save up your money in your piggy bank and come visit me. I'm going to be here a while.

(I laugh to myself when I glance back at old posts and count the number of times I swear I shall leave this country. That sure ain't the case no more.)

Photos from August, September, and October 2013

Truck-load of...people. I love Manabí.

Nothing new...can't wait to live here!

A whale of a tail!

Hello, whales!

Spent the afternoon in Cotopaxi National Park.

Volcanic flowers and mosses.

Patricio and I.

A mini-update and a poem

How is it July already? (P.S. Happy birthday, Mom! Love you!)

Haven´t much to say other than that I´m happy and doing well. Finding that life is kind of like an endurance run with hurdles...at least you can rest for a few meters at a time before the next one. And if you trip, well, you learned something (jump higher! find a better trainer!) and you´ll get a scab and a story. I think I owe my Dad a bit of thanks for the analogy nonsense. Also, English feels like my second language (and it technically is as far as how much I use it here)...


So, a couple of months ago I wrote a poem. To preface it, let me ask you a question:

Have you ever wanted it to rain because an afternoon was so beautiful and sunny and you felt like you couldn´t appreciate it fully? (...or perhaps I´m a hyper-sensitive person and you think my question is nuts...anyway, read on if you care to.)

The original was in Spanish, and then I translated it to English:

on a sunny afternoon
i long for rain.

a storm with dark clouds
rolling thunder
and fierce winds

on a sunny afternoon
i long for rain.

that will turn off the sun
the flame that burns me
with its beauty and heat

it calls me to desire more

on a sunny afternoon
i long for rain

to rinse me clean
with its drops
falling like tears

on a sunny afternoon
i long for rain

that makes me shut the window

shut the door

shut myself

quench the desire to leave
if it´s raining, i just can´t.

i won´t find the answer out there
in the street

in the mountain
in the fields.

but i forget that rain
makes things grow.

the brilliant green of the grass after the rains
calls me anew

the beauty calls me
the flowers, the birdsongs
call me, claim me.

the flowers open,
the birds open their mouths.
i open myself, i grow, i see.

on a sunny afternoon

i long for You
satisfy me


el original: 

en una tarde soleada

anhelo la lluvia

una lluvia de nubes grises

de truenos

y vientos feroces.

en una tarde soleada

anhelo la lluvia

que se apague el sol

la llama que me quema

con su belleza y calor

quien me llama a anhelar

más que él.

en una tarde soleada

anhelo la lluvia

que me enjuague

con sus gotas

cayéndose como lágrimas.

en una tarde soleada

anhelo la lluvia

que me hace cerrar la ventana

cerrar la puerta

cerrarme

apagar el deseo de salir

si está lloviendo, no puedo--

no voy a encontrar la respuesta afuera

en la calle

en la montaña

en el campo.

pero olvido que la lluvia

hace las cosas crecer.

el verde brillante del césped

después de la lluvia

me llama de nuevo.

la belleza me llama

las flores, el canto de los pájaros

me llaman, me reclaman.

las flores se abren

los pájaros abren sus bocas.

me abro, crezco, veo.

en una tarde soleada

Te anhelo

satisfáceme.

It´s June!

I just happened to find time to post something super-quick...and realized it was June 1. First of all, I can´t believe it´s already June. It´s confusing when the weather in Quito is perpetual fall...I keep thinking it´s October or something. Especially now that I´ve moved farther north, the weather is actually cooler. Perhaps I´m at a higher altitude? I think. And also, I had hopes of blogging once a month so it´s pure luck that I ran across the street to use the internet. I use the computer at this little store that sells everything, and to the store owner, everyone is named ´neighbor.´

Let´s see, what´s there to report? I´m happy, healthy, and thinking of a visit to the States in August or December. I´m not really sure when is best.

I moved about three weeks ago and am happy in this new area. There are 0 foreigners, I´m a bit closer to other friends, and my roommate is a friend of mine who recently moved to Quito from the coast. Our apartment is the lower level of a house, it´s spacious and aside from being a bit chilly, I have no complaints.

And, that´s all for now. 

Here are some photos of the last month:

May 2013

Also, June 1 was another date I had in mind, once upon a time, of leaving Quito. Ha!

Everything changes

I think once-a-month blogposts are about as frequent as I'm going to get now. And this one is just a quick update. Today I am moving to a new apartment! (And in case anyone is wondering if/when I'll be back: my lease is for six months...so I'll be here for that long, at least. At this point, I don't have particular plans to return to the States...aside from a Christmas visit.) I woke up this morning, early as usual, and decided to take in the sunrise one last time from my terrace. And what did I find? A double-rainbow! What a gift!

In honor of all my recent changes--which have been wonderful--in the soundtrack of my life Mercedes Sosa's "Todo Cambia" (Everything Changes) has been on repeat. It's a beautiful observation of life with its endless changes and the one, true constant: love.

I'm listening to this and packing up (and not in order to return to the States...)--it really brings out the nostalgia. But, friends and family, I'll let Mercedes express these thoughts for me...

Below you'll find my translation.

Todo Cambia <--click to hear the song!

The superficial changes

As well as the deep

Our way of thinking changes

Everything changes in this world

The climate changes as the years pass

The shepherd changes his flock

And since everything changes

That I change isn't strange

The finest brilliance changes

Its brightness from hand to hand

The bird changes its nest

A lover changes his feelings

A wanderer changes his path

Though it does him harm

And since everything changes

That I change isn’t strange

Everything changes

The sun changes its route

When the night has fallen

Plants change their shade

Of green in the spring

The fur of the wild beast changes

And the color of an old man’s hair

And since everything changes

That I change isn’t strange

But my love doesn’t change

No matter how far away you find me

Nor the memory nor pain, of my home and my people

What changed yesterday must change tomorrow

And so I change

In this far distant land

Everything changes

But my love doesn’t change

No matter how far away you find me

Nor the memory nor pain of my home and my people

What changed yesterday must change tomorrow

And so I change

In this far distant land

Lost in the middle of the earth

...or something like that, it would seem, by my absence here in the blogging world.

In fact, I'm just loving life here. Circumstances are about the same. I'm different.

I don't have the desire to constantly be in touch with people from the States like I used to--e-mails and blogging was my security blanket, and a way to escape from the troubles here by reminding myself it was temporary. If you think about it, moving abroad for a short period of time is an odd way to live. Everything is just for a time, so the temptation is to not get involved in anything. Anyway. (I still love and miss you all very much!)

It's all rather incredible. Awesome. Amazing. (Fill in other exaggerated American adjectives my friends love to make fun of me for.)

I spent a long time here looking at things I wanted to change...and they were always outside of me. People everywhere...and I spent time wishing they would go away. Noise? I wanted silence. Hungry? I wanted something instant and familiar.

Now I think I can say with Paul I'm learning contentment. He said he had learned to be content with much or little, in hunger or with food, etc. How am I supposed to learn to be content without food if I'm never actually hungry? or thirsty? or exhausted and lonely with no immediate relief? I've been through all of that here. Many a time. It's been such a beautiful challenge! (But trust me, I've pounded my pillow and cried lots of tears and longed of returning home from time to time.)

And now, I'm not sure when I want to leave. I think I'm here indefinitely for now. Yes. I'm putting it out there in the world wide web so people who want to know can know. Sorry I'm not informing you personally, friends. Let's talk about it, though.

I'm happy!

And of course, there are days when I'm sad, but thanks to the community I have here, and the direction life has taken, I can't just wallow in my sadness and throw myself a pity party. Life is vocation. Where am I? why am I sad? What's going on and how am I going to embrace the cross and move forward with it?

In other news, I recently had a marvelous, rather life-changing/life-saving trip to the coast and I celebrated my one-(liturgical)-year anniversary in the Catholic Church (see photos).

I don't really take anything for granted anymore. Life is so much better this way. Nothing and no one is useless. So, here I am, looking to renew my Visa. (And guess what? I still might be coming home in a few months. Ya never know.)

P.S. When I first came back to Quito after Christmas, I had decided to leave April 1 (as in, yesterday). Then, I thought, one month more--leaving in May--would be enough to deepen my friendships and learn a bit more of what this country had to teach me. Then, I decided to work another cycle here and come home June 1. Now, I just laugh about all that nonsense and say: Bah! It's indefinite.

¡Carnaval in Baños!

For those of you whose limited Spanish vocabulary includes the word "baños," don't be mislead. I did not, in fact, spend four days in a bathroom, but rather in a lovely city southwest of Quito. Think "Bath,' like England.

This weekend was too fantastic to condense into a well-written blogpost, so I'm going to let some photos speak a few thousand words for me.

Here's the view of Baños. From a small field with this lovely vista, we sang songs and talked for a bit. An energetic nun led us in a few activities.

With one of my dearest friends and a new friend.

I'm becoming a percussion expert thanks to my new friends.

We went to Chimborazo! 5,000 METERS!

We went to an amazing waterfall and got to go behind it--getting refreshingly drenched with the powerful cascade.

This is what Carnaval looks like! Water and flour and silly string and more. All's fair in this war.

We sang and played coastal songs. And, last but not least...I danced the mapalé. This is a crazy coastal dance originally brought to Colombia by slaves from Guinea. I was jokingly dancing around to a drumbeat when my friends observed my apparently legit moves and invited me to take part in their surprise dance number after one of the evening meetings. Definitely an unforgettable experience for all of us! So unforgettable I'm not sure I'm going to live it down.

I'm going to be really sad to leave these friends when I return to the States. But, all things are beautiful in their time.

 

On the last day in Baños, there was an entire meeting of mockery, paying tribute to the experiences of each of the four days--people imitated the songs, the presentations and...our dance.

On being content in this inconvenient life

I´m definitely trying. And being mostly successful. Read on.

Saturday evening was really interesting. Some friends and I got together with a man who runs his own company (cooking oil production, which is a big industry in Ecuador) to discuss his business, his ideas on economics and, to make a long story short, who he was voting for in the upcoming presidential elections here. I appreciated the fact that he scrutizined the candidates´ positions on education: none of which appear to have grand plans in that area, unfortunately. There are some who want to continue increasing the government, until it´s a father to us all--rather what the US seems to be trying. There are others, thankfully, who´d rather let people live freely but well. As the current president is pals with Hugo Chávez, I don´t have a lot of confidence in him. He has built a lot of great roads though. Most think he´ll be re-elected.

Back to contentedness. After spending that evening in a beautiful home in the valley (the first house I´ve been in since arriving), on the way back to the city I had a great conversation with a new acquaintance. He was from here but had traveled to Argentina, Chile, and Italy. After having gone to countries with more stable economies and politics and more convenience, you´d think he might have returned discontent to his own country.

Here in Ecuador, life is fairly inconvenient and sometimes irritating, as I´m sure I´ve described in full. For example: getting anywhere takes forever.

Work is a twenty-minute walk away (which is incredibly close by local standards!). Getting north in the city to see people takes 25 minutes on a usually crowded metro bus. Getting to another friend´s house is a 20-minute walk (or 10 minute bus ride) and then a packed, 20 minutes on the Ecovía (another trolley/bus line). If I want to buy something, it´s not only finding the right store (Wal-Mart and Target do not exist here) but getting there, being safe, and then returning home with the purchases, which hopefully don´t weigh too much.

Nothing is open 24-7. If you need/want groceries or some necessity, chances are you might not get them immediately. Just to leave my apartment building takes a few minutes: locking the door, going down three flights of stairs, unlocking yet another big door to leave. All things that are unfamiliar to me and time-consuming.

If I want to eat something, I either make it myself or eat at a restaraunt that may or may not have everything on its menu. No microwave. No dryer. I don´t drink the tap water.

And right now, it´s raining which makes me very happy because it dampens (..literally) the sounds of the city. But, my dilemma: I have to get to work. Taxi? Stand and wait for a bus in the rain, then walk more in the rain? Just plain walk to work and arrive soaked? I might just do that. Unless, of course, it lets up. I´m going to wait and see. I was going to go grocery shopping but now I´ll wait inside, listening to Jon Foreman and writing my blog.

Which brings me to my next point: desire. There´s much to desire when one lives in Quito. All of the aforementioned things and more, perhaps. Why do I sometimes consider living here? why did the guy with whom I spoke say he wouldn´t permanently live anywhere else?

Because anywhere else is too convenient. There´s nothing to desire. Everything is a drive, a phone call, a credit card swipe away in the States (of course, sometimes I really miss that!)

In the dear US of A, I can get distracted from the most profound and basic human desires: love, interior peace, eternity--the longings that make our souls uncomfortable here in time. (Don´t you ever feel like your soul is just squirming...for the lack of a better word? It´s kind of unnerving.)  When something like that strikes me, I could easily fulfill it with some quick solution, material or otherwise: a nearby friend, a chat with a family member, a tasty snack on hand, shopping, a nice drive in my car, or plain old physical comfort, and peace and quiet. All of those things are good. But, they´re temporary. And I think I can sometimes trick myself into thinking that´s all I´ve got and all I need.

Here, you can´t escape desire! So what stands out to me are the moments I do feel fulfilled: moments of soul-sharing with friends, of natural beauty, in the sacraments, in prayer and meditation, when I get to the root of something that´s troubling me and resolve or just embrace it, when I realize the value of my family and friends around the world, and when I realize my own value as a beloved creature. The basic wordly desires bring me to what my heart is actually longing for.

It got me thinking of the things I love: being up before the sunrise, reading great literature, natural beauty, great conversations with friends, delicious meals shared with loved ones.

I love being up before the sunrise, so I can hear the birds, watch the sky change and the clouds clear: once the sun is up, I´m almost disappointed. The sunrise is always different, yet the sun always rises in the same way. The desire is beautiful! The thing awaited is the almost monotonous.
I like long books so I don´t reach the end too quickly: I love the desire of getting there, the journey.
When I´m somewhere naturally beautiful, I don´t want to leave, I want to look at it forever, live there. But, go I must, so I enjoy the fleeting moment.
Moments of peace like meals and conversations always end--they´re beautiful in their time.

If I saw this every day, would it be as amazing?

The glorious moments of beauty, peace, and love burn just a little bit: they´re stretching my heart and imagination and soul ever so slightly, so the next time, I can appreciate better the brief joys. It´s like a fire: the more you add, the more brilliantly it burns, and the more fuel it needs.

So, in short: I´d like a car to drive to work right now. It´s still raining. But, I don´t have one. Just the desire for one. When I eventually get back to mine in the States, I´m going to love it--and for now I´m content with my car-desire.

Making volcanoes out of molehills

Okay. I've learned two things recently. One: there isn't much that can beat a birthday celebration on top of one of the world's largest active volcanoes. Two: I've been more anxious than I need to be. (Perhaps for most of my life, but certainly, at least while I've been here. More to come on that later.) Anyway, I'm going to get over the darn molehills that bother me and enjoy the volcanoes that surround me in this beautiful, diverse country...so, obviously I sometimes run short of ideas for titles and throw something together that rivals my brother´s puns.

On Top of the World

On my 23rd birthday. LEGIT. I woke up early, and headed south to Cotopaxi. Two friends--former students--planned the trip specifically for my birthday, and the wife and brother of one of them joined us.

Cotopaxi is in a national park. Foreigners have to pay to get into national parks. Some, such as the Galapagos Islands, are really expensive. There would have been a small fee for me at Cotopaxi, but thanks to my friends, I didn´t pay a cent. We were stretching our legs at the entrance, looking at a map when I heard a ranger ask my friends if I was with them. Without a second thought, the one said "Yes, that´s his wife." And voila! Free entrance. We laughed half the way up the volcano.

For much of the climb, we didn´t see a thing: we literally walked through clouds. The wind was vicious. And without much oxygen to breathe, my heart was pounding. We kept ourselves alive with lollipops and chocolate to provide some sugar and energy. Yum.

After a blustery hour or so, we got to the first refuge and rested a bit, hoping the weather would clear to so we could hike higher to reach the snow. Inside the 40-year old, wooden cabin, we just happened to meet Ivan Vallejo, Ecuador´s most famous climber and one of the world´s foremost, apparently. (Just checked his bio--he´s precisely three years younger than my dad!) He was kind enough to interrupt his lunch, introduce himself to us, and take a photo. Then, after a few more minutes of resting, watching our breath fog up the air, we headed back out to hike farther up and try our luck at seeing the snow and the peak.

We wandered up in the fog, stumbling on the brick red, volcanic stones and hoping to see something more than gray. We found a tiny patch of snow, and I contented myself with throwing a snowball and making a miniature snowman, at about 5 inches tall. We sat for a while longer, just hoping the clouds would blow away.

And, then--the best birthday gift ever--they did!

We got a glimpse that just 200 yards away, there was plenty of snow and then--miracle of miracles--the clouds cleared to reveal a stunning view of the peak! It was amazing.

Check out the photos!

I was almost too tired to tromp up any higher, but with the glorious snow as motivation, we pressed on. There was a perfect patch, that run down the side of the volcano a ways. We slid down it and I about passed out at the end. Crouching, zooming down snow using your feet for a sled, then abruptly standing up at about 20,000 feet will do that to ya. So awesome.

We made the long trek down, enjoying a view of the valley the entire way. We had a typical meal of hornado--a whole pig that gets chucked in the oven for hours, it´s skin gets crispy and the meat is tender--and finally arrived to Quito. We joked about the freshness of the smog, greeting our nostrils and lungs. At least I can laugh about it sometimes.

That night, I had dinner with friends from the movement. We sang songs, enjoyed gluten-free desserts and plenty of conversation. I was sun and wind burnt but deliriously happy and tired and full. My favorite Italian priest told me my 24th birthday would be celebrated in Florence, no doubt. He has great hopes of me learning Italian and moving there, etc. He has to return to Italy just a month after I leave Quito. He´s been here for twenty-eight years! I´ve realized that I, like him, will be sad to go. 

I want to shout that from the top of Cotopaxi. Quito and I have had our rough moments. My stomach is rarely content here, but my heart has been stretched and grown and shown new beauty: friendships from around the world, God´s grace in other languages, Christ in people from cultures quite unlike my own. Our Lady has brought me to her Son time and again.

I´ve been miserable sometimes because of my own worry. When things are out of my control, I´ve got to let them be out of my control. Giving up burdens that aren´t my own is a freeing experience. Life here has often thrown me for a loop, and I´ve reacted by trying to get it all organized under my own power. Ha. As if that would work. There are plenty of real concerns here, but I´ve adopted plenty that have only made life more challenging. A lot of it has to do with time: when is my own time and space going to be available, will all of my time be taken up in transportation, with friends, with being ill, with trying to repair my darn computer, with who knows what? Yeah, maybe it will! Maybe you won´t have anytime to yourself, Juliann. Deal with it. And so, I shall. 

Life is our vocation. And my life has me in Quito, Ecuador right now. With the ever-nearing departure looming on this equatorial horizon, I´m ready to enjoy each moment left! Yet another lesson I could have learned sooner. But, this is life, boys and girls.

It´s twenty-thirteen

...and I´m almost 23. On Saturday, I will complete my twenty-third year of life. That´s wild. I know it´s young in the scheme of things, but it´s 100% of my life...so it feels like sort of a long time. And, I´m nearing a quarter of a century. Weird. I clearly remember turning thirteen. A decade ago.

In another news, this will officially be my last cycle here at CEC! It´s bittersweet. Some days, mostly sweet. Though there are times I realize the many things I will miss: good friendships, teaching--I think--, the wide variety of things to do in the city, the volcanoes, pescado encocado, batidos de coco, etc. And the view from Guapulo, the winding, stone streets there, and Quito´s cool neighborhood: la Floresta. Oh, and mercado Santa Clara.

Let´s see, what else...Things I won´t miss: I got super sick again on Friday and just sat around moping...I mean, recovering, over the weekend. It was such a super welcome back to Ecuador after Christmas break...I almost bought a ticket home on Saturday afternoon. Five days after getting back.

But, vacation was wonderful! Michigan was every bit as beautiful as I had dreamed, and midnight Mass at Christmas was a totally new, glorious experience this year. New Year´s was fun with friends from Hillsdale. It was worth the quick trip downstate. And I had missed driving, anyway.

Back to Quito. In my free time, I´ve been doing some number crunching, and the stats on my life thus far helped me understand why I´m feeling utterly rootless at this point. In the last two years, I´ve lived on a different continent every six months! Blech.

2011--Seville, then Hillsdale
2012--Hillsdale, Marquette, then Quito
2013--Quito...then Marquette/Michigan/Midwest, as far as I can tell. At least for a while.

When I´ve told people this is my last cycle--even students I´ve just met--I get the "ooooooh"-sad face combo. When it comes from the people I´ve known for some time, it´s a sweet reminder that I´ll be missed. This is either selfish on my part or evidence that I´m not always sure when I´m valued. Most likely both. I´m genuinely surprised at times. It also shows me the genuine friendships I´ve discovered here. Then I think, "oh gosh, maybe I could stay longer." But...

NOPE.

I´m peacin´ out of here, and I know it´s for the best. And in the remaining two months, I´m determined to enjoy all I can of this country!

I don´t have much else to say for myself. I hope this is a swell year. And I´m glad it´s starting off here: there´s no doubt I´ll better appreciate the US because of it, as well as have fond memories of my Ecuadorian life--walking the line.

And I still have to go to the actual equator, anyway. And see more of this stunning country.

So much to do, so little time!

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!