Chuta—shoot! Whoa! Or Uh-oh! Also very similar to a bad word I accidentally shouted out in a restaurant
Podría encontrar 10 patas al gato—literally, he/ she could find ten paws on a cat, means he/ she is a pessimist
No me jodas—don´t bother me; My brother and his friends taught me to say this. According to them, it´s only the f-bomb in Spain, but based on the way they laughed when I said it, I´m still pretty sure it´s not particularly nice
Luchito—a nickname for Luís
Lluchito—naked
Grifo—faucet
Grifa—stoned
Yankis—dollars
Iony—(Yawn-y) Americans, comes from the shirts that say I (heart) NY
Huacala-gross
Puchi-also gross, more in the sense of "dirty" though
Friday, April 17, 2009
Things to call people
1.Significant other or beloved family member
-Mi cielo- my sky
-Mi riena- my queen
-Mi vida- my life
-Preciosa- precious (please use Gollum voice)
-Querida- My dear, beloved
They don´t use many foods as pet names like we do in the U.S (ie honey, sweet pea, sugar, muffins--ick)
2.Young people
-Mi hijita- pronounced “mihita”, my little daughter or much younger female friend
-Nena- an affectionate way of saying niña, or little girl
-Guagua- baby
3.Others
-Verde- creepy, as in “There were a lot of creepy old men in that Salsoteca”
-Mandarina- hen-pecked husband. Why I know this, I have no idea.
-Mi cielo- my sky
-Mi riena- my queen
-Mi vida- my life
-Preciosa- precious (please use Gollum voice)
-Querida- My dear, beloved
They don´t use many foods as pet names like we do in the U.S (ie honey, sweet pea, sugar, muffins--ick)
2.Young people
-Mi hijita- pronounced “mihita”, my little daughter or much younger female friend
-Nena- an affectionate way of saying niña, or little girl
-Guagua- baby
3.Others
-Verde- creepy, as in “There were a lot of creepy old men in that Salsoteca”
-Mandarina- hen-pecked husband. Why I know this, I have no idea.
Mi casa es su casa
There are some boundaries I´m used to that are crossed here on a daily basis. First of all, we have the “personal space” boundary. In the U.S., when you meet someone new, you generally shake hands. Occasionally, you might do the awkward dance of “shake, oops, hug, uh oops, shake.” Here, the standard greeting is a kiss on the cheek. It took me a while to get the hang of it: one hand on the person´s shoulder, just one cheek, always the right cheek. Whether it´s a man or a woman, whether I know the person´s name or not, it´s always the kiss on the cheek. Right from the start, you are sharing more personal space with a stranger than you ever would in the U.S.
In general, the people here don´t have quite the same concept of personal space. On the bus, for example, Americans would sit on the edge of their seat, clutching their arms to their sides so as to not touch the stranger next to them. Here, passengers let their arms (and sometimes bellies) freely flop into my space. At home too, how much space they consider each person needs as far as living quarters is quite different. In the one floor apartment above me, for instance, lives a family of 13. For vacation, my host mother described an apartment that “sleeps 10 comfortably.” It turned out to have two moderate-sized bedrooms and a small living room. But we were quite comfy and I actually enjoyed sharing the space. Maybe we overestimate how much space we need in the U.S.
There is also the boundary of topics we don´t bring up in polite conversation in the U.S.: politics and religion. I rode a taxi with my host parents last week, and their idea of light chit-chat with the driver was “So who are you going to vote for as president?” and “Are you a practicing Christian?”
Though it{s still odd for me to kiss strangers and ask a taxi driver his voting record, the familiarity of the culture does have one major upside: Latin American hospitality. When I say it´s a familiar culture, I actually mean as in “everyone is family.” Often, the generosity and hospitality take the form of housewives trying to convince you to eat a 4th helping of soup, or 3rds of the rice, but it extends beyond that as well. When someone you just met says “Oh, you should come visit me sometime in Peru/ Riobamba/ distant location,” they truly mean that they would happily let you into their house, give you a place to sleep, and stuff your face with four helpings of soup.
In general, the people here don´t have quite the same concept of personal space. On the bus, for example, Americans would sit on the edge of their seat, clutching their arms to their sides so as to not touch the stranger next to them. Here, passengers let their arms (and sometimes bellies) freely flop into my space. At home too, how much space they consider each person needs as far as living quarters is quite different. In the one floor apartment above me, for instance, lives a family of 13. For vacation, my host mother described an apartment that “sleeps 10 comfortably.” It turned out to have two moderate-sized bedrooms and a small living room. But we were quite comfy and I actually enjoyed sharing the space. Maybe we overestimate how much space we need in the U.S.
There is also the boundary of topics we don´t bring up in polite conversation in the U.S.: politics and religion. I rode a taxi with my host parents last week, and their idea of light chit-chat with the driver was “So who are you going to vote for as president?” and “Are you a practicing Christian?”
Though it{s still odd for me to kiss strangers and ask a taxi driver his voting record, the familiarity of the culture does have one major upside: Latin American hospitality. When I say it´s a familiar culture, I actually mean as in “everyone is family.” Often, the generosity and hospitality take the form of housewives trying to convince you to eat a 4th helping of soup, or 3rds of the rice, but it extends beyond that as well. When someone you just met says “Oh, you should come visit me sometime in Peru/ Riobamba/ distant location,” they truly mean that they would happily let you into their house, give you a place to sleep, and stuff your face with four helpings of soup.
Ceviche
Ingredients:
Shrimp
2 medium, finely chopped red onions
2 fresh lemons
1 tsp salt
tomato, chopped small
green pepper, also finely chopped
cilantro (to taste)
Fresh squeezed orange juice or orange pop
Salt
Pepper
bullion
Large spoonful of mustard
Large spoonful of ketchup
A dribble of oil
In a large bowl, squeeze the lemons over the chopped red onion and add salt. Mix thoroughly, crushing onions a little bit, then let sit for 10-15 minutes. Add tomato, green pepper, and cilantro. Here, my host mother says you just have to look at it to tell if you have the right proportion of ingredients. If it looks like you´ll be eating pure onion, add more tomato and pepper. Add the shrimp, and gently mix it all together. Add orange juice or orange pop until the mixture is quite juicy, almost swimming (another thing you have to do by looking at it).
Add the last 6 ingredients and mix gently. Let marinate at least one hour in the refrigerator. Eat cold with popcorn and beer.
Shrimp
2 medium, finely chopped red onions
2 fresh lemons
1 tsp salt
tomato, chopped small
green pepper, also finely chopped
cilantro (to taste)
Fresh squeezed orange juice or orange pop
Salt
Pepper
bullion
Large spoonful of mustard
Large spoonful of ketchup
A dribble of oil
In a large bowl, squeeze the lemons over the chopped red onion and add salt. Mix thoroughly, crushing onions a little bit, then let sit for 10-15 minutes. Add tomato, green pepper, and cilantro. Here, my host mother says you just have to look at it to tell if you have the right proportion of ingredients. If it looks like you´ll be eating pure onion, add more tomato and pepper. Add the shrimp, and gently mix it all together. Add orange juice or orange pop until the mixture is quite juicy, almost swimming (another thing you have to do by looking at it).
Add the last 6 ingredients and mix gently. Let marinate at least one hour in the refrigerator. Eat cold with popcorn and beer.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Good Friday
Holy Week is a big deal here—practically the entire city has shut down to celebrate. They don´t have the Easter bunny, but they do have a number of other interesting traditions, ranging from special foods to long processions. Yesterday, we went to the Good Friday procession, a 3-hour spectacle of religious devotion and penitence.
It wasn´t a parade, that´s for sure. For one thing, there was only one float. Very last in the procession came a float bearing the image of Mary, Our Lady of Suffering (La Dolorosa), accompanied by hundreds of women in purple veils throwing rose petals and releasing balloons.
Some people in the procession were dressed normally, carrying images of Jesus or rosaries, mumbling prayers and singing hymns. The majority of the participants, though, were dressed as cucuruchus. Their robes and tall cone-shaped hoods with small eye holes look like Klu Klux Klan outfits, except in brilliant shades of purple and magenta. Most of the cucuruchus just walk along, bare feet on the hot pavement, clutching rosaries or images of Jesus. But some get slightly more extreme—dragging chains from their ankles or carrying ropes and branches to lash their bare backs. A couple people even wrapped barbed wire around their naked torsos, or wore crowns of thorns. Thankfully, they´re not allowed to actually draw blood anymore, but there was plenty of blood painted on faces, chests, and feet.
A large number of people take their penitence one step further. In cucuruchu outfits or Jesus costumes, they haul massive crosses down the road. Young and old men, women, and even a few children stumbled and sweated under the wooden weight, sometimes requiring up to five people just to carry the cross forward. Other people carried the horizontal log from the cross, perched on their bare shoulders, like one of those yokes used to carry water in days long past. When their faces weren´t covered, their expressions told me that this was truly penitence, not just a fun parade.
It wasn´t a parade, that´s for sure. For one thing, there was only one float. Very last in the procession came a float bearing the image of Mary, Our Lady of Suffering (La Dolorosa), accompanied by hundreds of women in purple veils throwing rose petals and releasing balloons.
Some people in the procession were dressed normally, carrying images of Jesus or rosaries, mumbling prayers and singing hymns. The majority of the participants, though, were dressed as cucuruchus. Their robes and tall cone-shaped hoods with small eye holes look like Klu Klux Klan outfits, except in brilliant shades of purple and magenta. Most of the cucuruchus just walk along, bare feet on the hot pavement, clutching rosaries or images of Jesus. But some get slightly more extreme—dragging chains from their ankles or carrying ropes and branches to lash their bare backs. A couple people even wrapped barbed wire around their naked torsos, or wore crowns of thorns. Thankfully, they´re not allowed to actually draw blood anymore, but there was plenty of blood painted on faces, chests, and feet.
A large number of people take their penitence one step further. In cucuruchu outfits or Jesus costumes, they haul massive crosses down the road. Young and old men, women, and even a few children stumbled and sweated under the wooden weight, sometimes requiring up to five people just to carry the cross forward. Other people carried the horizontal log from the cross, perched on their bare shoulders, like one of those yokes used to carry water in days long past. When their faces weren´t covered, their expressions told me that this was truly penitence, not just a fun parade.
Fishy Business
Ah, what a fabulous week! We have all of Holy Week off for break, and I went to the beach with four of my friends and my host family. We did nothing but take in the sun, swim, dance, and eat really good food.
Here in Ecuador, people mostly eat whatever foods are locally available. If you live in the mountains, for instance, you probably eat a lot of potatoes, whereas if you live on the coast, you eat a different type of tuber called yucca. But what this means for my vacation on the beach is that we ate a lot of seafood caught by local fishermen. The fish practically flop out of the boat and right into the pan (in some cases, that´s almost literally true—they eat fish whole here, with scales, fins, eyeballs, and everything). Calamari and shrimp are cheap and readily available—as is shark. Needless to say, we dined like royalty on fresh seafood and luscious fruits.
In fact, if you like seafood, you´ve probably eaten Ecuadorian shrimp. A few years ago, the government gave large chunks of the mangrove forests in Northern coastal Ecuador to shrimp farms. Before, the mangroves provided food and livelihood for hundreds of people, who hunted shrimp, mussels, and crabs in the deep mud and spindly roots. The shrimp farms though, razed huge portions of the mangrove forests to put in pools and mass produce shrimp. A few people became extremely wealthy overnight on shrimp exports, and the rest ended up living in shacks perched over the polluted salty, polluted river, eeking out a living on what´s left of the mangroves.
Here in Ecuador, people mostly eat whatever foods are locally available. If you live in the mountains, for instance, you probably eat a lot of potatoes, whereas if you live on the coast, you eat a different type of tuber called yucca. But what this means for my vacation on the beach is that we ate a lot of seafood caught by local fishermen. The fish practically flop out of the boat and right into the pan (in some cases, that´s almost literally true—they eat fish whole here, with scales, fins, eyeballs, and everything). Calamari and shrimp are cheap and readily available—as is shark. Needless to say, we dined like royalty on fresh seafood and luscious fruits.
In fact, if you like seafood, you´ve probably eaten Ecuadorian shrimp. A few years ago, the government gave large chunks of the mangrove forests in Northern coastal Ecuador to shrimp farms. Before, the mangroves provided food and livelihood for hundreds of people, who hunted shrimp, mussels, and crabs in the deep mud and spindly roots. The shrimp farms though, razed huge portions of the mangrove forests to put in pools and mass produce shrimp. A few people became extremely wealthy overnight on shrimp exports, and the rest ended up living in shacks perched over the polluted salty, polluted river, eeking out a living on what´s left of the mangroves.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Politics in Ecuador
Ecuador has a turbulent political history. Like most latin american countries, Ecuador went thorugh a period of dictators, military coup d etats, and "mysterious" disappearances of political activists, Since 1979 though, Ecuador has been a democratic state. However, they´re still working on getting it just right. In the last 11 years, Ecuador has had 8 presidents. Three times, the people have risen up to evict corrupt or unpopular leaders--the last time, a US helicpoter had to air lift the president, Lucio Gutierrez, out of his house to safety. (And Gutierrez is running for president again...) In its 180 year history, Ecuador has also gone through 20 different constitutions, the most recent of which was crafted ina 6 month spree last year.
Elections under the new Constitution are taking place this April. About two weeks ago, candidates were allowed to begin campaigning. Overnight, ads appeared as signs, billboards, flyers, and massive stickers on the sides of buses. And the propaganda techniques are flying left and right, and they´re not subtle about it either! Trucks with giant speakers drive along popular roads, blasting a candidate´s slogan. There is a person on every street corner, waving a candidate´s flag. The current president´s poster reads: "You decide between the dark past or this beautiful (picture of president) Revolution in Democracy!" The competing cadidates for mayor of Quito have chosen competing colors: Neon green and--no joke--hot pink (Vote for Richard!). One person running for Congress is even using the Batman symbol as part of his campaign.
The main problem, as far as I can tell, is that not a single candidate for any position has put forth an explanation of their plan or ideals. It´s JUST propaganda. And unlike in the US, in Ecuador, there are about 16 different political parties, all of equal strength (weak). S on what basis do people vote? A slogan? A beautiful face? Hot pink banners? Spin the wheel and pick a party? Voting is obligatory for everyone over age 18, so you have to pick somebody!
Elections under the new Constitution are taking place this April. About two weeks ago, candidates were allowed to begin campaigning. Overnight, ads appeared as signs, billboards, flyers, and massive stickers on the sides of buses. And the propaganda techniques are flying left and right, and they´re not subtle about it either! Trucks with giant speakers drive along popular roads, blasting a candidate´s slogan. There is a person on every street corner, waving a candidate´s flag. The current president´s poster reads: "You decide between the dark past or this beautiful (picture of president) Revolution in Democracy!" The competing cadidates for mayor of Quito have chosen competing colors: Neon green and--no joke--hot pink (Vote for Richard!). One person running for Congress is even using the Batman symbol as part of his campaign.
The main problem, as far as I can tell, is that not a single candidate for any position has put forth an explanation of their plan or ideals. It´s JUST propaganda. And unlike in the US, in Ecuador, there are about 16 different political parties, all of equal strength (weak). S on what basis do people vote? A slogan? A beautiful face? Hot pink banners? Spin the wheel and pick a party? Voting is obligatory for everyone over age 18, so you have to pick somebody!
March 23rd
March 23rd was my 21st birthday. Here in Ecuador, it´s not that significant, since the legal age for everything is 18. In fact, I had quite a hard time explaining why 21 is an important age in the US. Most people thought it was the age of majority, when I could vote and drive. I had to explain that I could drive at 16, vote at 18, and the only new thing at 21 is that I can legally buy alcohol. In the end, my host family still held a fiesta to celebrate my "age of majority."
We ate copious amounts of empanadas with passion fruit juice. Everyone got to give me one lash with a belt (instead of spanking), and then we managed to stuff down an entire chocolate cake and a large cheesecake as well. But the fun really started when we pushed back all the furniture and started dancing. When a couple of the neighborhood guys arrived with a bottle of wine, we made toasts, then kept right on dancing--mostly slasa, with a touch of regueton. Rather different then my 21st birthday would have been in the states, but I liked it this way.
At about 11:00 that night, my grandpa passed away. He had been struggling with his health for several weeks, and about about 5 days before my birthday, his kidneys and heart began to fail. He spent his last days at home with Hospice, surrounded by family, friends, and love. I owe much of who I am to my Grandpa--his ideas, dreams, and family. It was hard to be away from home, but good to know there were people there for him and Grandma. I am honored to share my birthday with such a compassionate, loving, and good man as my Grandpa.
We ate copious amounts of empanadas with passion fruit juice. Everyone got to give me one lash with a belt (instead of spanking), and then we managed to stuff down an entire chocolate cake and a large cheesecake as well. But the fun really started when we pushed back all the furniture and started dancing. When a couple of the neighborhood guys arrived with a bottle of wine, we made toasts, then kept right on dancing--mostly slasa, with a touch of regueton. Rather different then my 21st birthday would have been in the states, but I liked it this way.
At about 11:00 that night, my grandpa passed away. He had been struggling with his health for several weeks, and about about 5 days before my birthday, his kidneys and heart began to fail. He spent his last days at home with Hospice, surrounded by family, friends, and love. I owe much of who I am to my Grandpa--his ideas, dreams, and family. It was hard to be away from home, but good to know there were people there for him and Grandma. I am honored to share my birthday with such a compassionate, loving, and good man as my Grandpa.
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