Carnaval

I get next Monday and Tuesday off for a holiday known as Carnaval. People tell me it´s a Catholic holiday, in the sense that Mardi Gras is a Catholic holiday. Unlike Mardi Gras, which seems to revolve around a lot of drinking, here it involves dousing friends and random strangers with water and soapy foam. In fact, I have already been the victim of one very small child´s can of foam. By the way, foam in Spanish is "espuma", and for some reason, I don´t like this word much.

In Quito, it´s actually against the law to throw water balloons, so along with many other Ecuadorians, my friends and I have plans to go out of town for Carnaval. Initially, we had planned to go to a remote part of the coast called the Manglares, which features the tallest Mangrove forests in the world. But then every single road out of Quito to the coast either collapsed or suffered a mudslide. So instead, we´re going to Baños, a small town with an active volcano and thermal springs. They also have the Virgin of Pure Water there, who supposedly performs miracles to save people forom drowning and so on, so hopefully she can help me avoid the most adamant of the water-toting strangers. I´ll be out of touch for a while, but please, in the spirit of Carnaval, douse at least one friend with water for me.

First Recipe

Since I know you´re all dying to eat what I´m eating, here´s a simple recipe for pandejo de garbanzos we had for lunch today. Unfortunately, my host mother doesn´t even own measuring cups, so everything is a very rough estimate:

4 cups garbanzo beans
2 cups carrot
2 tiny onions, chopped
A little bit of red or green pepper
1 tsp of paprika
1 Tbsp of oregano
2 ish small sausages(supposedly is quite good with cow intestines, if you prefer)
salt to taste
probably some water--it should look like thick soup

Serve on top of rice with some guacamole. Que rico!

Messing with my inglés

Speaking Spanish so much has me un poco confudida. Two weeks into my studies her, and I´m still mosly pretending to understand people. I think (I´m not positive though) that I understand the general idea of what people are trying to say, even if I don´t understand any actual words. Last night, I went to a series of short plays put on by the Catholic university. Unfortunately, the actors were talking rather more quickly than most Ecuadorians do, so I only understood about one word in 100 (ah, yes! I know what "yo" means!). Instead, I made up my own stories to go with their expressions and movements. In fact, I´ve gotten in a habit of whenever I don´t know what someone is saying, I make something up. "What would I be saying in this time and place, with these gestures?" I ask myself. Generally, this works pretty well, although sometimes I nod when I´m not supposed to and the person figures out that I don´t actually know what´s going on.

Oddly, I think I am starting to get the hang of thinking in Spanish. But it´s not an all-at-once switch. Instead, I have this wierd mezcla of Spanish and inglés corriendo en mi head. When I try to habla espanol, English phrases pop out. On the other hand, I´m suddenly struggling to spell words in English.

Encima de Pichincha

The western horizon of Quito is dominanted by two volcanoes, the dormant Rucu (sleeping) Pichincha, and the active Guagua (baby) Pichincha. Yesterday, I took a cable car up to the top of the Rucu, which deposits you at 4100 meters. With 3000 ft between me and the city, at last the noise and smoke of Quito fade away. The peak is above the treeline, so below, only grasses and blue lupine wave in chill breeze. Even standing still, my heart beats fast, and gentle strolling is a true cardiac workout. I can´t even begin to express how beautifal it was though. When the sun shines through the clouds, it´s immediately intense, like you pressed you back and head against a stove. But when the sun is hidden, it´s not because the SKY is cloudy, it´s becaus you are IN a cloud, with gray on all sides, on your skin and in your lungs. When the clouds move in, they rush up the side of the mountain, like some ghostly force coming to claim your soul. Some people say it´s better on clear days, when you can see the city. But I like it better when the city below is blocked by dense clouds. I could be the Andean codor, with nothing below me but clouds and the curves of the mountain, and nothing between be and outer space but some thin air.

Three cultural lessons

My failed interview yesterday was in a city adjoining Quito, Colocoton, about an hour from where I live. Though the internship was a flop, I learned a few things along the way.

1. City people are aggressive drivers
In the heavy morning traffic, we attempted to merge onto a different highway three lanes away. Quitenos never pay attention to directional signals. Honking is a frequiently used signal, which can mean "get going", "Hi!", or "Watch out or I´m going to run you down." In this instance, neither signal was enough to convince people to let us across three lanes of standing traffic. The next step? Stick your arm out the window so no one can go past without swiping it off, and wave it around so other drivers know you are moving over NOW.

2. Ecaudoreans don´t know their way around their cities
After our hour-long journey, we spend another 20 minutes searching for the location of the interview. We drove around for a few minutes, stopped for directions, drove again. Quite a few people, including the taxi driver, had no idea where to direct us, and the rest could only give a vague "a couple blocks mas o menos, and go left." As confirmation of these findings, yesterday afternoon, our guide told us that our barrio was 2 or 3 blocks away. It turned out to be 20 minutes and a massive hill away.

3. The pace of life is slower
20 miutes wandering around, lost in a city would make your average American explode. Also, if this were America, I would have been buckling down at my internship within the first 3 days of my arrival. Here I am, a week and a half in, and I´m still exploring options!

The Buena Suerte continues

Recall that during a biking tour of el Centro Histórico, I got poopthed upon, which is supposed to be good luck. Well, immediately after, my bike got a flat tire. Since then, I have continued to have some episodes mala suerte--getting liquids spilled on me,m forgetting my jacket the first day it rains here, nad having my scalp start peeling from the sunburn. Unfortunately, this trend has run over into my searh for an intership. It turns out the Capuchin Monks (or monkeys, if you prefer) are overhauling their program and are not accepting interns at this time. Yesterday, I went to an interview at another center for at-risk youths, only to find out that this group needed someone in the afternoons, when I have class. But things are looking up: there are some other really interesting option working in schools with young children.

Language Lessons, Round 1

Major language mistake No 1: I accidentally told my brother´s amigo that I had an internship working with the religious order of Capuchin Monkeys. These monkeys do live in the rainforest of Ecuador, but don´t tend to take much interest in vows of poverty and chastity.

My new favorite saying: "Todas las vacas son suyas"--All the cows are yours, or "Fine, you know everything"

"Estoy exitado" does mean "I´m excited", but only in a sexual sense. Oops. Instead, try "emocionado."

"Lo siento" does mean "I´m sorry", but it´s the kind of thing you say at someone´s funeral. Instead, try "Disculpa" or "perdon".

Trying to say "cool"? Here, it´s "chevre". It derives from Chevrolet, which apparently, are really cool.

Giving up English

For the first time last night, I listened to my iPod. I never thought about how easy it is to understand my own language. To write it too--I just think a thought and the words pour out of my pen without thought of how each word should be spelled, what order they go in, or how to conjugate my verbs. Some part of me feels like this whole experience might be a joke--I´m going to walk out ov my room, my hermanos will laugh and say "So how´s this experiment going?"

"Of course everyone speaks English," this part of me says, " because people THINK in English, just like you. They´re all just hiding it from you out of spite." But my host mother says that I´ll never be able to speak fluently if I can´t learn to think in Spanish. So for a while, I´ve put away the iPod, and turned on the Salsa.

Buena Suerte en el Centro Histórico

Sunday, we all took a tour of the historcal, colonial part of Quito. The buildings look like they came directly from Spain, built close to the road with balconies and plenty of decorative carving. The area is peppered with churches. The biggest, the Basilica, can be seen clearly from the top of the mountain and took 108 years to build. But inside, it is actually quite simple compared to the other churches. The San Francisco featured walls and cielings covered in gold leaf, statues, domes, and dramatic depictions of El Infierno. Actually, it reminded me a lot of the Hare Krishna temple I visited with DRU last year.

Native religions are subtly mixed into these churches. The San Francisco dome, for instance, is rimmed by a sun, an indigenous god. Three of the churches are positioned so that on the Summer equinox, the sun is aligned with the main window, illuminating the church. Mary is frequently painted in gigantic robes that give her the shape of a mountain. The gargoyles on the Basilica aren´t monsters--they are llamas, iguanas, penguins, boobys and condors.

It was beneath these gargoyles that we sat to enjoy our lunches. As I pulled my bag of sandwiches out (yes, multiple sandwiches) I felt something wet fall on me from some great height. Frozen for a moment, contemplating the possible implications of this event, I came to the conclusion that I REALLY hoped it was water. Unfortunately, it was caca from one of the pigeons enjoying a perch on a gargoyle. Supposedly, this is "buena suerte" (good luck). I think I´m set on though as far as sacred poop goes.

Relationships

This 2 million person city is organized into barrios, or neighborhoods. Mineis Mira Flores, and the neighboring barrios are San Juan and Las Américas. My hermanos have friends consisting of other boys their age from the barrio. The both have steady girlfriends--also from the barrio.

Romantic relationships function quite differently here too, mainly because children live with their parents at least until they are married. I imagine that puts some constraints on a relationship! Even after marriage, the newlyweds might live with the parents. In Quito, it is simply too expensive to strike out on your own right after marriage. Even though they live with their parents, mis hermanos have all the adult freedom to come and go when they choose.

Altitude: 9000 ft

In addition to being sick my first day here, tiring out easily, and feeling like a weakling, there are some other side effects of the altitude. For instance, even with 2 applications of sunscreen, I´ve managed to get burned three days in row. I have this really fabulous V-shaped red spot on my chest, with a white streak where my braid was. Also, any product that was in a bottle or tube--shampoo, coverup, hand sanitizer--has expanded, and comes gushing out in copious quantities when you remove the cap.

Also, in case you were wondering, it has been sunny and 70 degrees every day here. Heehee!

Feeling my Whiteness

70% of Ecuadorians are mestizo, 20% are indigenous, and 9% are black. Despite these stats, white skin is considered the most beautiful, and racism has a very salient presence in everyday life. In the U.S., I am not considered all that fair-skinned. I´m also on the short side. Here, I am the whitest person on the buss, and a good 5 inches taller than almost everyone. It takes most Ecuadorians about 3 seconds to figure out that I´m a "gringa." Sometimes, men on the street say "Que linda! (how pretty) when I pass. Strangers try to practice their English on me, and even teh buses come to a complete stop for me. Everyone knows that I am a gringa, and by my very presence in Ecuador, that I brobably have more money and education then they do. And they´re probably right.

The busy bus

Mass transport is very common in this city, and cheap, at only 25 cents per ride. Every day, the students from my barrio and I take the city bus into town--along with about a half a million other people. These buses are double the length of a regular bus, and have their on lane in the street, adn special covered stations. When they arrive at the station, the buses are always completely full. Sometimes a few people get off, but regardless, you rush into the mass of sweating commuters. The doors of the bus close, possibly on your arm, as the driver mumbles "cuidado" over the intercom. Whether your body actually makes it into the bus or not doesn´t actually matter; the doors squeeze you in like you might push clothes into an overflowing suitcase.

The bus lurches forward then stops suddenly, but it´s ok because your body is already pressed up against someone else´s, and the other bodies keep you from falling over. Then you hear someone shout "permiso!" as they try to make their way to the door for the next stop. Like tectonic plates, everyone shuffles around and by some miracle, the person makes it to the door, and you have a new armpit to smell. Your stop arrives adn you too are shifted out the doors. Step out onto the crosswalk for a refreshing gulp of black smoke as the busy bus passes you, carrying away its human sardines

La Vida Dulce

Ecuadorians like their foods very sweet. Because it is sunny and about 65 degrees year round here, nearly every type of fuit grows here. With each meal, we drink a sort of fruit smoothie--water blended with fresh fruit. But the sweetness of the fruit itself is not enough, you must add sugar. I´ve tried all sorts of new fruits such as naranjillo, which looks like an orange tomato but tastes like a combination of an orange and a peach.

In the U.S., dinner tends to be the most important meal of the day. Here, lunch is the the biggest meal, usually consisting of soup, a main dish, rice, and of course, fruit. Second in importance is breakfast. Dinner here is more like lunch in the U.S.--eat leftovers whenever you feel hungry.