July 24, 2008

I'm in the living room listening to this intense flute remix of "house of the rising sun" and waiting for Azucena to return from the panaderia. With this new job in the morning, I feel like two days pass for every one. This was my third day working in the guardaria.

Lau Lau and I arrived about about 8 and went straight to the cafeteria to sooth the crying children that I have come to expect. A lot of hugging and cooing and Spanish pep talks about how their moms are"getting to work" while they are getting to play in the sun with their new friends, and how they are always with their mothers in their hearts. Uncharacteristically corny stuff like that seems easier for me to say in another language.

Veronica, the relatively competent and relatively warm señora that I work with does a relatively good job of leading some morning songs. From then on, her direct interaction with the kids diminishes pretty significantly, which is sort of where I step in. It is amazing the difference a bit of exemplary enthusiasm and participation can make! It's the difference between dumping out the box of the classroom's (only) toy and giving orders from a standing position to sit and stop hitting and stop throwing the toys--and sitting down with them and beginning to excitedly connect these round hollow toys. The minute I do that, they swarm into order around me and start regaling me with bits to connect. It's then a matter of making sure they do it themselves even though it is sort of impossible for some of them to figure out how the toys fit together. At this point, the ingredients are, in equal parts: let them struggle in vain for a little while and guide the toys in their hands together and exclaim at their success (instead of just showing them). Step three in the make-the-same-toy-interesting-day-after-day-for-hours-and-hours-process is to begin inventing (albeit) far-fetched objects that these connected plastic pieces could possibly resemble, and making the corresponding sound effects and goofy movements. The sound effects are my favorite part! haha

After these morning activities, they wash their hands and eat fruit. My favorite part of the day is the next hour where they play outside in the sun. Today i found myself on a soccer field with about 40 wee-ones and no other supervision. Nothing was planned, there was no equipment to speak of, and they were starting to mischievously wander off into dangerous situations. I ended up doing a sort of funny/scary monster growl and chasing them around for a while. Then, when I had them all cornered in a soccer goal, I would put on an expression of sheer horror and begin to run. They would take the cue and start chasing me in the circles I led them in. Eventually, they'd catch me and I'd fall to my death before resurrecting myself with another monstrous growl and beginning the cycle again. This went on for a while before two women lackadaisically appeared to sort of supervise around the periphery. Modeling interest worked its magic again, and soon I had about six kids inspecting the intricacies of grass with me for half an hour. They were really into it and made lots of fake soup for me out of clover.

Lunchtime is out of my power to enhance. It consists of a militant enforcement of soup eating for these tiny, crying 2- year olds. Force feeding and a general air of tantrums all about.

All in all, this guardaria has been a very mediocre experience. No--mediocre maybe doesn't take into account the intensity of both good and bad. In a way, I should be jumping at this opportunity to really make a difference--to fill this energy vacuum. But I feel like such a temporary addition to the center that unless I were to make some sort of longer-term contributions--like presenting a plan of activities or a stockpile of materials--all my energy output is a few drops in a long-term drought.

I hope I'm not putting too much of a good-guy/bad-guy spin on this. I actually had some good sympathetic exchanges with Veronica today. I can see that she cares about the kids' well-being. Partly, I think she's plum wore out. 26 years old with an 8 year old and a 5 year old, she looks a lot older than she is. Today she told me that she was bored and I realized what a vicious circle that must be. Tired and bored and alone with 13 kids, it's hard to muster the energy for activities...but that leads to more difficult kids and a general air of lethargy--all fueling her boredom and exhaustion. I think tomorrow is our last day there--we're going to try to work in an orphanage next week. I feel sort of guilty sampling these morning jobs and not really committing to kids who most need commitment. I'm glad, at least, that I've kept consistent at Don Bosco. Poor Lau Lau has come in just as all the volunteer centers are in transition, and she has had zero consistency and a lot of frustration.

For this we took a breather in between jobs today, lounging on the lawn of the Casa de la Cultura, laughing about the vocabulary arguments we always have. She just said with a laugh "we could write a dictionary of synonyms together" because we always dispute words, only to find out that we're both right.

Today was my last day at Casa Amigos. In the last couple of days I've really settled happily in there--making jokes and jabs with the other teachers, really talking to the kids, giving coherent and complex orders. Day 2 of the mural project and we finished it!! I was so proud. We had five brushes and a little gloopy paint and about 25 kids at a time running and fighting and begging me to paint. Somehow I tactfully danced myself through this- mixing the little paint we had into new colors, rotating the kids in and out with relatively little resentment on their parts, coming up with new things for them to paint to keep the begging at bay. And I made them do it. It was weird--my coworkers apparently thought I was going to paint it myself and gave me dubious scowls when I insisted the kids were capable.

It was sort of anticlimactic--this being the last time I'll see them. Lots of hugs and extended waves goodbye as my bus departed. I'm not sure whether to think it's a shame that I had to leave when things were just getting really good or whether to be glad I was able to end on such a good note.

Wednesday, July 23 2008

Arg. I keep waiting to write till I'm too exhausted (although there may not be much "waiting till i'm exhausted" about it, as that is pretty consistently my state).

The guardaria certainly had its rewarding moments, but Lau Lau and I felt a collective sort of dejection upon leaving today.

Don Bosco was really nice for me. I'm finally able to make jokes and be loose with my coworkers. To work on maintaining the kids' reading skills during this summer vacation, we read a story aloud (which was great for me because I think I'm about on their level). Then, we made woven bracelets with beads (evidently known as "shakiras" in Colombia...yes like the singer with the sexy hips). I asked Antonio if he could read another story while we worked, so he read me one about a mangosta (mongoose) that I managed to understand. Lovely.

I called Max for his birthday tonight and we talked for seven dollars. Apparently I sounded Jewish.

Azucena and I had an empanada-making party which was great. Lau Lau turned out to be inept with a rolling pin and a verde (a type of very starchy, banana looking vegetable) pounding stone and every other step of the empanada-making process, so she kept us company as we worked away. mmm ¡Qué rico!

Tuesday, July 22

I'm seated wearily but contentedly at the small family kitchen table. Fabricio is sipping coffee and responding in monosyllables. Azucena is slicing broccoli animatedly. Oh wow! Fabricio just stretched his head the furthest out of his shell I've seen thus far- he's picked up my book and, laughingly, is trying to read it aloud in English.

Today Lau Lau and I started our new morning job in a guardaria--a sort of preschool/holding center for kids whose parents (or parent-singular in most cases) are unable to keep them during the day. It is a completely different experience in many ways than working at Don Bosco's Casa Amigos. Although the leadership is much worse at this guardaria, I felt, finally, that familiar internal numbing of my own cares and woes (that I've gotten so used to at Louise's camps) while I attended to the constant sobbing and falling and fighting and wandering of these two and three year olds. This is a new "batch" of thirteen, the group I'm working with, still trying to come to terms with their temporary abandonment during the day. This one girl always asks "mommy?" when she runs to me, reminding me of that children's book Are you my Mother? When Lau Lau and I arrived, the whole group was running amok in a small classroom with only one woman. Almost the entire lot was menacingly throwing toys and hitting each other. In an attempt to come up with something quickly, I had them help me make familiar designs out of these dinky plastic objects. They all followed suit when I put on my super-excited-to-be-making-a-crudely-shaped-cat-out-of-irregularly-shaped-flimsy-plastic-object-face and settled down for the most part. After a little while, they became incredibly obedient, fetching me more plastic objects, beaming. It is fascinating to be working with such malleable little human beings. My attention, smile, or hug can make all the difference in the moment, and right now their lives seem to be that--lots of little moments all strung together. Anyway, the hour and a half that I was with these kids they broke my heart a little. Sometimes i had to blink back tears. My favorite was the one that looked uncannily like a three-year old version of Barack Obama. I tried to tell him that but I don't think it really registered. haha.

LauLau and I took the bus south to Casa Amigos. Despite shockingly limited materials and an utter scarcity of help, I managed to organize small groups of kids to begin painting the mural. Andrea's (my ecuadorian/suiss friend) last day was today, although I missed most of the ceremonial departure as I was trying furiously to rid my hands of their coat of impenetrable oil paint.

After work, a general air of femininity descended. Lau Lau and I ate ice cream on the lawn of the Casa de la Cultura and shared various girlie anecdotes about boys. Back at my house, Lau Lau, Azucena, and I had a really girlie conversation about weight and appearance (i was more a listener on this one). Haha and NOW, a minute ago, as I was in the middle of writing this entry in my room by lamplight, "uncle" Juan Carlos came in and plopped down chest first on my bed- head propped up on his palms, legs flopping around sillily in the air, and commenced the most uncharacteristic batch of giddy schoolgirl talk!! He began awkwardly recounting how today he made a paper flower for this English teacher at his university and went to her classroom to tell her he had liked her for two months. Then, after mildly demolishing my book with nervous fidgety energy, he started helplessly asking advice about whether he should ask her out for a drink or ask if she's single first. And the whole time we're having this girl talk, he's sort of grinning bashfully and giggling! Very weird. The verdict: he's gonna keep me updated. haha.

Monday, July 21

Last night I dreamed that Andy Goldsworthy had a brother. For those of you unfamiliar with his work, Andy Goldsworty is the relatively famous and rather pompous artist that makes truly unbelievable sculptures out of nature. According to my nighttime subconscious, this brother was attempting to follow in Andy's footsteps by making a cool arrangement of dry linguine on his kitchen floor. He came into the Chatham Marketplace, determined for me, and me alone, to advise him on what quantity of dried pasta he would need. He was very preoccupied by telling me how large his daughter was because evidently, in the event that she lie on his kitchen floor, he would need to change the amount of pasta in the sculpture to take into account the addition of her massive body to the dimensions of his work...what does it all meeeeeeeeeeean? haha

This morning Azucena wasn't awake, so I made myself breakfast- fried whole grain bread with a creamy scrambled egg and sliver of tomato. A glass of peach yogurt and tea for warmth. It was nice to cook for myself. Its been a while.

Daniel picked up Lau Lau and I in his car and took us to Casa Amigos. I'm not entirely sure why we didn't take the bus except that it was about six thirty in the morning and may have been too dangerous. After we waited all around a little at the center and I (successfully) taught the kids a song in Japanese, we altogether caught a bus to the bottom of a mountain named Ongui. In the bus I had LiliBeth and Wendy on my lap and they requested that I sing 'yesterday' by the Beatles. So I did. They then requested that I translate it into Spanish. So I tried. It was really a beautiful thing- us in our bus seat cubbyhole snuggled up singing this song (together to the best of their ability). An old woman observed the whole scene and smiled wisely down at us.

The first ten minutes of the vertical mountain roads seemed hardly bearable. The girls clung on to my arms, adding to the load. It turned out to be the perfect time to really get to know them. We talked about their families, where their moms worked, and a little about their own work on the streets. Little LilyBeth doesn't sell candy on buses anymore because she almost got hit by a car once. wow.

Thanks to the whining and panting of small children, Antonio as our leader decided against climbing the entire mountain to the top and instead took a route south up and across mountains. The higher and deeper we climbed into the euchalyptus-scented mountains, the more blissful I became. I talked to Paul (one of the tutors my age who used to be a student at Don Bosco) about his growing up in an isolated mountain home. His entire life was agriculture and animal husbandry and morning classes in a small school and walking everywhere. We meandered, sometimes on paths, sometimes not, through cascading hills of wildflowers and swishy grasses, small farms with husband and wife laboring together. After about four hours of solid walking, sliding down hills, and climbing up steeply cut earthen steps, we came to a small mountain church that turned out to be the gateway into the entire central cordillera- the unpopulated Andean valley lush with volcanic ash from GuaGuaPichinca (guagua being Quitchuan for baby). Baby in name only, GuaGuaPichincha (along with mother Pichincha) reached its craggy-cratered head far above the clouds that were rolling in from the coast. What a sight! I sat there on a grassy sloping cliff ledge and could hardly tear my eyes away- drinking in the humbly magestic vista for over an hour. A gaggle of boys who sometimes think they're tough came to sit with me and after a while started begging me to sing. I did for a little while- slow songs and spanish songs and songs with a dancy-rhythm.

We ate hot-dog sandwiches and I had to laugh when I found out the Ecuadorian love of cilantro really stops at nothing! Some of the kids tried to fly the rather pathetic tissue-paper kites we made back in the classroom. "A" for effort.

On the way back we decided to slide down a good portion of the mountain. I haven't felt so wild and free and at home since being here. Back on the communally-constructed (minga) stone paths, I got Wendy into the "pick up the litter" game. She would frequently detach her hand from mine to fetch a strewn plastic wrapper to which I would exclaim something about a "regalo" (gift) and excitedly pocket it.

Lots of botanical talk with Antonio has led to a newly acquired set of vocabulary that I will probably never use.

We walked all the way back to Casa Amigos- down the mountain through the poor neighborhoods spotted with heaps of trash. Eight hours in all. My legs are feeling a bit dull and uncertain but the rest of me feels wonderfully refreshed.

Sunday, July 20

A day of kite-flying and bike-riding at Ichimbia. Lau-Lau, the french volunteer and my new lovely friend, came over with her host mother Laura who is the sister of Azucena and the director of my volunteer liaison office. Lau Lau and Laura--wow! What matching mother/daughter name sets we are (if you'll recall Azucena means lily)! This evening, Lau Lau and I ended up walking along the blocks of paintings and through the market. We shared some wonderful bonding in Spanish, which felt a little odd because we can both speak each others' languages.
Tonight I ended up watching Flight 93 with Fabricio and Juan Carlos, which I had sort of planned on not ever watching. It had an odd effect on me, watching it here- Sophia and Amy bounding around laughing giddily and taking my orders for their make believe restaurant while I watched a reenactment of the attack on my country. Did I feel...dare I say it...nationalism stirring within me? Weird what being in another country can do to you.

Sauturday, July 19

Newly-independent Sara (who just moved into her classy apartment) is over for a visit.

We're the only ones here--the family's out and about on weekend excursions (that I left early to meet up with sara). I had another one of those "i'm really living here" surges as I bustled about, playing hostess and getting the tea and afternoon snack prepared. Now she's tapping away on the keyboard while I write in my journal.

This morning was a slapstick boating incident of comic proportions! Azucena, the girls and I took a bus to a nearby park with all these artificial waterways and fountains and cute stone bridges. For a small sum each half hour we rented this small white canoe-like contraption that was powered by foot pedals and steered with a joystick. Azucena and I had yet to master the maneuvering capabilities of this boat when we came upon a huge arc of water.

Azucena and I got the same quixotic gleam in our eyes and decided we could easily steer ourselves under the waterless middle of the arc. At this point, the water pressure changed (or at least that's our excuse) because all of a sudden we were being drenched and all we could do was peddle on at the boat's snail pace as the girls began screaming and crying . I had to shield my eyes from the pummeling water and grab sophia to keep her from hurling herself from the boat in distress. After that, we walked around and bought chicken and caught taxis with our stiff wet-leg awkward gait and two crying girls (who luckily had a change of clothes).

Now I'm off to another birthday bash for Gabriel at some "hip college hang-out bar."

Friday, July 18

er...first part of this entry is written in Spanish (sort of mundane musings on passing strangers in street and the ironic vandalism that I came across that said, in big ugly, spray-painted letters "don't litter."

Today, Conocoto was mediocre. We played this game where three teams competed to see who could make the longest line of stuff, using only what was on hand. For once, my extendedly-phlegmy colds came in handy, as my arsenal of nose-blowing toilet paper won us the championship (I felt like that might have been sort of a cheap, unfair win, but karma had its way with me moments later when I sunk my hand into a fresh cow patty).

The rest of the camp day was sort of disastrous in my opinion. Mary Angela decided it would be fun to have a bonfire, only it was located in a sun-blasted expanse of hot valley weather. To further contribute to the burning of small children, they were made to roast these puny hot-dogs ad cherry flavored marshmallows on ten-inch long skewers. After this, someone decided that only the kids who had brought food to share at our "picnic" would have sandwiches and soda. I came in on the middle of this and became perplexed as the same kids over and over kept getting sprite refills while others sat gloomily around the edges. I began asking them and they told me the rule and a ran a small revolution that got more food supplies that made sandwiches for all.

After that, I took the Vingala bus to meet G and S for G's birthday lunch. On the way, this herbal health specialist woman got very interested in me. She asked my first and last name, which I already thought was a little weird before she took out her daily planner and wrote down this information with no explanation. Later, I had to halt her when she asked for my telephone number. As I was departing the bus, she yelled "BYE!" in this sort of strained attempt at English from her seat across the bus. haha.

The birthday lunch was great. Gabriel's father came from Esmeraldes on the coast--a six hour trip which, I found out later, either he or Gabriel's mom make every weekend! We went to the historic center and ate on the second floor terrace of a pretty fancy restaurant. I had a roll of chicken filled with cheese and spinach smothered in a "special sauce." After that, the three of us meant to do some sightseeing but ended up talking for an hour on the patio roof of one of the many grand historic buildings.

Sara and I discovered the odd coincidence today of effeminate male animals named Ferdinand. First off, there's the children's story of Ferdinand the bull who only wanted to play in the flowers all day. Apparently the Graybeals named one of their baby bulls Ferdinand in honor, which turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy! This bull of theirs went on to be the most timid, infertile little guy (that Laurie was sure was gay). Our late rooster Ferdinand (ferdie) was once described by a mature adult family friend as "the faggiest rooster i've ever seen!" and true to the name's legacy, was unable to fertilize any eggs in his entire rooster career, the small white fluffy thing!

Thursday, July 17

A few "lost in translation" notable phenomena:
1. I often overhear under-the-breath mumbles in Spanish and involuntarily translate them into the most preposterous English phrases before it occurs to me that a)this person does not speak English and b) Even if it were English I would never assume that these particular absurdities had been uttered.
For instance, earlier there were some briefly confounded moments in which I was sure I had just passed by my three year old sister singing "Take me to the River" by the Talking Heads.

2.Things about me that are considered oddities by my own countrymen are here taken for the aberrations of a foreigner--for example, the tenacity of my phlegm which hangs on for months after my colds, my voracious appetite, my membership in a cheese club, etc.

3. I always have to clarify that I'm not necessarily exemplary of where I live in many respects--for instance, when I am probed about my religion or what foods I eat, in conjunction with certain queries about North Carolina or the Southern US, I often wonder whether it would be easier to just classify myself as a barbecue and slaw-eating evangelical.

I'm feeling great tonight. My chest is filled with garlic gas, which I'm really enjoying the effects of. I'm clean for the first time in a while, I just received numerous cackle-out-loud-to-an-embarrassing-extent emails, and Sara and Gabriel have returned early!

First I'll write about Sara and Gabriel because that's the freshest in my mind. I got home late from work and they were waiting on the sofa to receive me. Sara's hair looked different and I had so much to tell and ask and languages to choose from that a sort of plug formed and everything leaked out in slow motion for a little while until we really got to talking in my room. We chose English (thank you Gabriel) although I kept involuntarily saying "sí" in this incredibly hideous English accent. I had intentionally not read Sara's blog so that I could hear about it all in person (although now I have and it's fascinating and I urge everyone to check it out at http://www.saraisbeautiful.blogspot.com.) As it turns out, they were working with an older, spunky couple that Gabriel knows from Idaho who do work with a preventative health care NGO in extremely remote and isolated mountain villages. While Sara and Gabriel were there, the focus was epilepsy and stove construction (two themes in the world of health care that are surprisingly pressing and connected!)

I felt bad for a little while that i hadn't gotten to go with them and experience this, but we all, in our various wisdom, ended up talking about techniques, experiences, psychological norms, and difficulties of being in new places and trying to make a difference. The conversation flowed well with much of my recent introspective--except it seemed less self-centered to hear it all from the mouths of these lovely, wise creatures.

Conocoto was nice today. The relatively privileged kids had to do some manual labor in the carpentry workshop, which i thought was mighty good for the soul. Julia, Andrea and I made it to Casa Amigos, where I felt a welcome surge of happiness to see Katya and Inés and Wendy, etc. The kite project went well with this group, although I realize I've been teaching it partly wrong.

Its nice talking to Antonio on the bus ride home. Apparently since he's arrived at the foundation, the teachers have really started working on teaching values to both the kids and the mothers because so much of the basic behavior that they learn in their homes is really detrimental to a life in society- demanding, cursing, violence, etc. I realized more and more how much these kids need--and also how much they are really getting--help in certain areas. I don't always realize this because I don't see them in their home situations and there has been a lot of improvement by this point. That's why Antonio is my blessed window of insight.

Its amazing the mounting lump of things I miss from my every-day home life. Although to some extent it is more craving than specifically missing.

Tomorrow a TV channel is coming to Casa Amigos, but I think I might be going out for Gabriel's birthday, instead.

Wednesday, July 16

I'm writing this entry by flashlight as an uncharacteristically jack-in-the-box-Amy has now decided to darken the room and put on a light show (following an evening of shrieking and jumping into my arms and causing general havoc with a bouncy ball).

Today settled a feeling of comfortable tranquility. After meetings and sickness and outings, my routine has been far from Don Bosco and the kids recently. But today, immune system cajoled into order, it was time for me to adjust myself back into this life. The most incredible thing was the feeling that I didn't really have to do any adjusting! Since being here, everything has been either a routine I'm in the process of conditioning myself to--go to work, return to house, unlock gate, etc--or a gravityless new experience. I know this must seem really trivial, but going back today and feeling that I knew exactly what to do and how to talk to each person and how to interact with the kids was like...hm...like realizing I could still ride a bike after I'd gone a while without riding it (to use the old cliché). No. That's a little stupid, because it was not that I was concerned I had forgotten how to smile at kids or anything. No. I think it is simpler than all that. It was a feeling of old hat in a new country and...
ok. I think these feelings of experienced mastery over my life here may be getting a little inflated by having met a new volunteer a couple of hours ago who is even more of a stranger here than me. Fresh off the plane from France, her spanish a little wobbly, she's come alone to volunteer and stay with Azucena's sister. While she was here, I began looking at myself through her newtimid eyes and thought 'who is this American girl prancing around in the kitchen- making rice and jokes in spanish- putting on her wise face and giving sympathetic advice about how it once felt to be a newcomer in this land, helping with translation...'
ok. this entry is becoming far too narcissistic for my liking.

To get back into the realm of fact recounting, we chatted in french and played with the kids. We'll be volunteering together in the mornings in Conocoto starting tomorrow, which I'm looking forward to.

This morning, I old-hatted my way to Chillogallo and bought paint with Daniel for my mural. After that, we did some workbook photocopy drudgery and I had the pleasure of a more easily understandable lunchtime. Then I lounged in the grass with Andrea and the ever-curious David (who picked my brain about greek gods, roman crowns, spongebob, and something else really odd that I've forgotten.) In the afternoon class, I made some new small friends while they made some new small kites. A very obedient and creative group! With our extra time at the end, I taught them how to make paper snowflakes.

I stayed home today and went to the doctor. She was a lovely lady (with teeth dad would have found attractive). She looked me over and prescribed some things. Nothing serious. I think I'm on the mend.

My parents have arrived in Costa Rica, and from the sound of things, they are loving it up!

Hopefully they won't mind if I include some of their joint email here:

"We are having a great time with a great family, Jorge and Maria Rojas Campos. When we arrived, their dog came up to play with us and dropped a mango at our feet. It has been like that ever since. Breakfast was delicious costarican coffee with a fresh local pineapple, a slab of watermelon, and a ham sandwich on fresh bread from the bakery. The little town of Carillos where we are is really sweet. We spent the day out with Jorge exploring this part of Costa Rica in his taxi cab. This afternoon, when we took a nap, the sound of the family chatting out on the veranda drifted over our dreams

They have 4 grown kids who all live on the same property (lovely houses all in a row with huge ferns hanging all around their verandas!) with their kids and dogs. Its the most beautiful grouping of people I have ever seen. Weve met most of them now and I am rattling away with them all. I am amazingly relaxed at speaking and listening this time. And Paw is doing SO WELL. First, he understands most everything. And now he is even initiating little conversations!
Tomorrow morning we start school. We drove past it today. It is on a beautiful hillside. Well tell you more. You can see we havent mastered the apostrophe on the keyboard yet. "

Wonderful to hear, you guys!

Sara and Gabriel are coming back to Quito sooner than expected after having some incredible experiences themselves. Great news!

Sunday, JULY 13

Right now I would describe myself as a bit sad and sick. But not desperate sad/sick. No, more like competent sad/sick. I feel like I'm learning things- about other kinds of lives, about a modesty of existence, and a pounding appreciation of my own life. The sadness is just a little typical loneliness and the sickness is your usual phlegmy, fevery, sore, one bloody nostril cold/flu (which I think was exacerbated by my trip)--

My Trip
3 hours of incredible bus-ride scenery: the further north we got, the more the mountains became exotically desertish--towering, intimidating things, rising in sheer cliffs with a sporadic sprouting of spiky cactus-like tufts. As we made our way even further north (back into habitable land), the Andes I'm now used to began to reemerge (patchworked with distant farms. rivers cutting swiftly through the valleys).

The market in otavalo is a real tourist draw-Dutch, American and German I spotted. It stretches for blocks and blocks in all directions--al paka rugs, fresh vegetables, artesenal jewelry. Beggars and hagglers. Semi-chic hostels, cutsey stained glass lamp posts and restaurants catering to Americans lined the streets.

And yet--a mile up the mountain where we stayed, I found an entirely different life.

I went with my friend Andrea, an Ecuadorian girl my age who has lived as an illegal immigrant in Switzerland since age 9. Christina, (daughter of Rosita--the native Otavaleñan artisan at our center) agreed to accompany us and give us shelter in their family home for the night. It was great to get this opportunity, although Christina's presence managed to seriously dampen my mood (as is pretty consistently the case). Although my age, she has the indolent eyes of a middle-school girl, with the detached, sneering coolness to match.

Anyway, a five minute walk across some abandoned train tracks, up a rutted dirt path, and past a chained pig and sheep nuzzling, we arrived at their mountain-perched family home. At least ten people appeared to live there in this concrete structure with concrete walls, ceilings, floors, and a concrete hole in the floor where the cold shower water runs off. Our room was empty, but for a wooden bed frame with a thin straw mat and some blankets.

With a some gentle probing and coaxing, I managed to get a bit of information out of Christina about the life there (the only time i felt any spark of warmth). Prompted by the Quitchuan sign in a church we were in, we began talking about how Rosita speaks Quitchua fluently (while christina has only a basic grasp). This led to a discussion of Rosita's growing up and times past in the mountains of Otavalo. It is obvious that Rosita is still really tied to Otavalo, as she religiously wears the traditional garb--a lacy, colorfully-embroidered blouse, gold-bead bangles, and black velvet triangle-toed sandals. (Christina, on the other hand, religiously wears American semi-punk clothes). Yet, despite Rosita's obvious devotion to her roots, she hates to visit this home that she left 17 years ago. In response, Christina told me that this entire tourist sector used to be a forest before the various forces of globalization and modernization reduced the traditional homes on the mountain to just the outskirts of this new, relatively sleek center of town.

Yet, despite this marginalization of sorts, these "remote" mountain structures seem to have maintained family and community to quite a degree. Although some of the houses had "for sale" signs, these turned out to only pertain to family members. Outsiders are not eligible to purchase. From here, I learned that the the entire mountain was dotted with Christina's extended family! There was not a house I could point to that she would not respond "aunt" "uncle" "cousin" or "grandmother."

Despite my occasional questioning, I never quite got a complete grasp of what the life there is like. I was taught an interesting lesson about the handicaps of my perception: when we first climbed up into this world, I thought 'oh, maybe part of the reason Christina seemed hesitant to take us has to do with the poverty--stray dogs and scraggly chickens, dilapidated-looking shanty buildings and unfurnished concrete structures like the one we stayed in.' And yet, the longer I was there, I began to get the impression that it isn't really thought of as a life of poverty. Several people described the life as beautiful and tranquil and, sitting on the stoop, watching the sun go down over the layers and layers of dusky mountains, it seemed that way to me, too. I began to think that, sure, it can probably be be a pretty trying life in these hard, un-heated mountain homes, but that maybe in a way, the house-structure is just a sort of vehicle for this "beautiful and tranquil" life of (from what I gathered) family, farming, child-rearing, artesenal work, and soccer.

Of course this is still a crude and ignorant perception , as I was only there one night, but what I learned most concretely is that I really don't know. I enjoy that sort of ambiguity of perception.

We went back to the market that night- to a row of rowdy tents filled with flaming meat and sizzling dough. I got two empinadas and a cup of hot, syrupy blueberry for a mere 70 cents. I noticed that there was a showing of Cocalero, a sundance-acclaimed account of Evo Morales's election process--his platform, advisers, public meetings, etc. It was incredible to get such an informal look at this guy whose policies I've been studying for a year. There was footage of him getting haircuts and jumping into a jungle river in his underpants. With (requested) Spanish subtitles to accompany the audio, I understood almost everything. Alas! The showing was outside in a courtyard and it got so cold that I (in my triple-layers) began to shiver, so we went dancing.

I would say there were some fun parts to the dancing excursion--I love latin dancing, for one, and there were a couple of breaks from the loudspeaker music where a band of men in traditional costumes played some incredibly lively sets--with rapid, percussive guitar, harmonious wooden flutes, and something that appeared to be a ukulele. By 2 Am, my health had rapidly deteriorated and I was exhaustedly coughing at a table. At this point I was turning down a fair number of dance requests until this particularly persistent suitor nagged me to my feet. He proceeded to sufficiently disgust me for the night with his dirty dancing and fake syrupy sweet compliments and requests. I ended up sort of yelling at him and storming off. Luckily, I ended on a good note with a black, dreadlocked Otavaleño boy who kept his distance in a way that would have made any middle school dance chaperon beam.

I sickly trudged back at 2:30 with the girls, and the three of us collapsed onto our straw mat. My condition has steadily worsened. In the bus ride back, they showed an INCREDIBLE documentary about the colombian cilvil war's effect on a little town called "La Sierra," from which the movie takes its title. I don't know how the documentary crew managed to establish such a rapport (to use my anthropology terminology) with the interviewees, but it is the most close-up and honest films I have ever seen. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED! Needles to say, I did a bunch of extended sobbing while watching it, further inflaming my throbbing head.

Here i am in my Quito bed, having slept solidly from my 3PM return until 8PM, despite the relentless screaming of children outside my door. Now i'm going to sleep some more.

Friday, July 11

Wow! It's 11:30 and we just finished eating dinner.

Today, our foundation went to the Conocoto center for a meeting. Andrea and I ended up working with the kid's summer camp there, instead of attending the meeting (the plan is for this to become a part of our daily morning schedule). It was great-- warmer and more organized for summer activities. It's very different, though--the kids are significantly better off at this center. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but I've decided that it's good to get diverse experiences in this way. I made many new friends, including a gaggle of cute little children, a 28-year old German girl named Julia (who I got on with as if she were my age) and an Ecuadorian boy who, of all things, is going to be studying abroad at NC STATE! next year! I chatted lengthily with Andrea and Julia (who, between the three of us, share four languages (Spanish, French, English--and for them, German).

After that, Andrea and I went to the historic center in Quito, and talked our heads off. It was gorgeous, but unbearably difficult to sit there by the pristine fountains while little kids came and begged with big eyes at our feet.

Tomorrow, we're off to Otavalo together, Andrea and I.

Los Buses

Quickly, I want to give you a glimpse into the personalities of Quito buses. They can range from wacky and wild to sterile and professional.

I got on one the other day and felt I had entered a sort of enjoyable, tacky hell. Everything was bathed in a gaudy red--filtering in from the red tasselled curtains onto the plush red seats and bouncing off the rear view mirrors that emanated inch-long red fur around their perimeters. The virgin Mary was on display in the front of the bus, looking out saintily from her warmly lit glass box. A huge 3x2 Winnie the pooh plastic cushion lollygagged haphazardly near the entrance, and the Bee Gees blared on the loudspeaker.

Other bus rides, like that this morning, are peaceful, quiet, newspaper-reading rides.

Also of note are the many vendors in the buses. They hop on from the street and begin distributing little individually-wrapped candies regardless of whether they are desired. A speech is given in which the price of the candies is named. They then go back down the aisle with an open palm, getting back either the candy or the requested amount of coins. The most interesting part is that everyone seems very respectful of this solicitory ritual.

Thursday, July 10

10:22 PM
Right now my limp frame is feeling ok about having just turned down Juan Carlos's offer for some late night salsa dancing. Whew! I'm exhausted from all this sickness and my fake date tonight.

I went with Esteban to see American Gangster, a fantastic movie! Having gotten the impression (from numerous affectionate text messages) that perhaps he didn't quite get it, I may have been a little overzealous in expressions of my non-availability. The guy who plays Stringer Bell in The Wire and, incidentally, makes an appearance in American Gangster, became Max's favorite actor for the night, in order that I might utter the phrase "mi novio" in context (a second time).

Last night, Azucena and I curled up together and watched my bootlegged copy of Lord of the Rings completely in spanish (dubbed and subtitled). She loved it!

Today we had a staff meeting, during which I got a mural project rolling- sketched in crayon on a huge wall, supplies requested. Its a scene of indigenous life in the Andes, inspired by some of the embroidery work that Rosita is doing with the mothers of the kids at Casa Amigos.

July 9, 2008

I think i'll spare you guys the large portion of this particularly introspective entry

4:40 PM
Today I've stayed home, sick, missing a trip with the kids to a nearby pool. This is a shame, because I had taught a lot of the Clapping Hands Farm games to my fellow workers and was looking forward to seeing how they would translate (some had to change a bit due to my linguistic disabilities-- for instance, happy clams became happy oysters). But here I am at the house, oozing, and dripping, and making a general mess of myself. Emotionally, I feel solidly well. Content and contemplative.

[it is here that you are spared my five-page musings on initiative-taking and the revelation of clarity regarding the direction and scope of my humanitarian ambitions.]

Today, I solved my year-long query as to the differences between guayaba and guanábana. Guayaba is guava, and guanábana is this spiky green football filled inside with shiny black seeds, each trailed by comet-tails of pulpy, almost artificial-tasting soursweet frut. mmm! I ate about half of one while discussing abortion and love with Azucena.

Yesterday, I got to work at 10:30. I had, what I'm pretty sure will be my last morning of lonely uselessness (that even helping Rosita didn't help). Then, in the afternoon, I felt the best ever!!! While Soraya (my sort of mysterious colombian co-worker who I need to describe in more depth soon) was downstairs helping cook a colossal meal for the kids' pool trip today, I got to lead the class! We made paintings out of crushed egg shells, and they turned out so creative! What a rush! Me with my spanish working with my kids, making suggestions, keeping them under control, getting some great work out of them and really bonding with a lot of them! I have been putting off talking about the kids until I know them all a little better to avoid feeling like i'm just putting semi-anonymous sad stories on display. But I realize I should give a sort of general idea. The kids in Casa Amigas (our particular branch of Don Bosco in the south) come from really poor areas in the south, many from broken homes. A lot of them work on the street, selling odds and ends, and from what I've gathered have a lot of trouble in school. This last part really surprised me, because from talking to them and watching them take on craft projects, I can safely say that none of them are slow nor lazy. My only conclusion is that their environments aren't conducive to reading and studying, affording little free time, home support, materials, etc.

When I went down to the kitchen to talk to Jordin about an alternative project for me in the mornings, I encountered a tense emotional session (exacerbated by everyone's onion tears) in which he and Daniel, as coordinators, were being sort of verbally accosted about the paucity of materials. Jordin and Daniel were great, calmly listening for what I believe was an hour and modestly taking critiques into serious consideration. It really is a great group of people even when tensions are flying.

What was finally worked out is that I will work with Mary Angela (the rat-tailed italian) in the mornings in Conocoto at a sort of summer camp. Details have yet to be arranged, but i'm feeling poised.

July 7, 2008

11PM

As I'm writing this, I'm getting the royal treatment indeed! Amy (my six-year old host sister) is in here on my bed with me, and has slathered me in almond-scented lotion, spritzed my hair generously with pear body scent, disastrously duo-toned my nails, and has elaborate (11PM) plans for my feet. In this midst of all this, I was brought, upon a platter, a special concoction of fresh squeezed citrus brewed with cinnamon and honey. I suppose it pays to get sick.

Today was the first day I felt like I'm actually living in this foreign city. I've been under the weirdest misconception that my time here is almost up, when it today occurred to me that i've only completed one of five weeks! Furthermore, today I successfully, and with many flutterings of liberation, took the bus alone (i'm having to do a bit of translating on this entry, as parts of it are written in spanish). I started to plan out a rhythm for myself at the center. Deciding to take action on my morning slump, I did a bit of asking around and am now helping Rosita, the Otavaleñan woman, with artisanal production like embroidery and recycled paper-making.

At 6 PM, the civilized taking of bread and tea with my family. Gourmet lobster from the coast for dinner tonight. (I swear! This entry is giving the false impression that I'm living in luxury here!) More extended family.

My homework for tonight is to look up for David the coincidences between Lincoln and Kennedy's assassinations...he wanted to know.

Sunday, July 6

Greetings once again! Another barrage of entries is on the way...sorry they always come in herds, but it is a rare occurance when I can wrestle the computer away from Sophia for a substantial-enough chunk of time, so I figure I should take advantage. Whenever Azucena sees me at the computer, she gives me a jovial wink and says "ah, ganaste!" translating into "you won [control of the computer from Sophia]"

Sunday, July 6
The park that spreads itself out in the expanse across from my house lets down its hair on the weekends. Blocks upon blocks line themselves with incredible paintings, while the inside invites
vendors, children in fake plastic cars, comedians, artisans, families, and tourists. I went with Juan Carlos and watched two men prance around in the middle of a cackling circle, acting out the manipulative games of flirtatious youth. This farcical comedy had us so entranced that we lost track of time and arrived too late to get into the free theater performance of Snow White. We were told that there would be another performance in a couple of hours, so we went to Ichimbia park to bide our time. It is truly the most gorgeous park I have ever seen. Relatively new and eco friendly, its perched on top of a mountain overlooking Quito in its entirety. The most incredible part of this omniscient perch is how clear the divisions between the north, center, and south are. The north is filled with high-rises, the center with red tile and colonial arches, while the South's sea of low-lying slums sort of swims off into a gray, hazy distance. The park itself is filled with zip-lines, couples, pagodas, winding tree-lined paths, and precariously-perched soccer fields that require an abundance of extra balls to compensate for those that sail off the mountaintop.

Returning to the theater, we somehow snuck in and sort of hid in this mezzanine balcony until the beginning of the show (i still have no idea how we managed that or why). What we thought was going to be another showing of Snow White, turned out to be this interminable youth dance concert that would have made Peter Jackson green with envy. Seriously! Not only was the entire show hours longer than I expected, but the final piece itself had about 40 minutes of faux endings!!! The audience was significantly sparser at the end of the night. That aside, it was the most phenomenal youth dance I have ever seen- in both talent and diversity of dance (from a little kids insect ballet, to several traditional Ecuadorian pieces, to a dance of love and loss set to the Amelie soundtrack that made me cry, to a shockingly accurate michael jackson medley of dances, to the aforementioned french ballet finale.)--keep in mind i've left out about half the program. When we got home, I did some meeting and greeting, dinner, and bed. As seems to be the custom here, there are new waves of extended family to kiss almost every time I walk in the door!!!

Nuestro Paseo July 6

8AM
Well, the bad news is that I'm all throat-scratchy from my impending cold. But I have wonderful stories to recount from the overnight trip (paseo) that we took with some of the kids from Don Bosco. (This is going to be a long entry, so feel free to not read it all).

Friday morning early, I went with Jordin (the Spaniard, if you remember) and Daniel, my sociologist coworker with square glasses and a humble face and friendly shoulder length curls and a daughter that lives with her mother in another city. Our destination was the other Don Bosco center, located in the "valley" just outside of Quito. About twenty times the size of our center in the south, this one was a sprawling hacienda (that seemed to have lost a bit of its former colonial glory). Despite the stubble around the edges, there was no denying the breathtaking beauty of the whitewashed stucco, ancient red-tile roofs, and tropical flowers exploding from between the weeds. It consisted of about ten buildings in all, including a church and greenhouse. Walking the grounds with Jordin, I found out that the students at this center are apprentices of woodworking, ceramics, and metal work. It seemed like a gloriously productive concept, until the disgruntled Jordin began to explain how there is no clear directorship--no plan or focus for those working there. As a result professors get disheartened and frustrated, not knowing what their exact goals are with the kids. As he ranted along, it sounded like he was in the market for something like our vista volunteers, "We just need someone who can come, observe the center, and write up a sort of manual-job description, goals for the students and how to accomplish them" (..ahem, sara?).
Then, I got to witness an exhilarating bureaucratic fight as Jordin paced back and forth in the office of the director, exclaiming his ideas and frustrations. Between cigarette inhalations, the slumped, curly chest-haired Italian director (who sometimes kicks his dogs) retorted in an increasingly elevated tone that he was not a bit in agreement. I sat there sort of stupidly and awkwardly trying to put on my best innocent face.

Afterwards, Jordin explained that a director has to do just as much work as those he's directing in order to ensure that his orders are clear and specific. A lazy flick of the wrist and a command doesn't get the job done. (All of this is to say that I had many warm surges of pride and respect for dad).

I know that this one managerial frustration of Jordin's probably seems like a rather dry thing for me to have spent so much time documenting, but in a way the times like this when i've really been able to discuss ideas in Spanish (on the university lawn with Sara, Gabriel, and Esteban, or in the car with Simon Bolivar, discussing pending Ecuadorian socialist reforms, former wars, the monetary switch to the dollar, poverty, and the world bank)--these are the times (along with certain moments with the kids) where I feel most alive--like an expressive human being instead of an onlooker.

Anyway, to get back to my narrative, Jordin, Daniel, and I went to meet the kids at the top of a waterfall-rich mountain. Getting there required half an hour's steep drive up a rural mountain road, constructed with stones by what I understood to be sort of a local work cooperative. On either side of the road, Eucalyptus trees rose and fell upon the hills and valleys. The air grew crisper and, as always in the country, I felt a bit more at home.

The path we took to get to the waterfall was wonderfully unpredictable--steps carved out of the mountain, rickety ladders that paralleled the fall of the river, steep curling paths. WE had a sort of educational botany session, the three of us. For instance, I would point and exclaim "moss," which they would awkwardly attempt before exclaiming "musgo," to which I would follow suit.

We arrived at a small waterfall and wondered where to go next, having been told that the kids were at the big one. I suggested several times that we take the small path that led further down the river to what looked like a big waterfall (we could see the very top of it peaking out over some trees in the distance). They thought that because the could see the top of the waterfall high up that we should go up. This entailed several grueling 11,000ft climbs...just to clarify we did not climb 11,ooo fit, but that altitude made even 1 foot a bit taxing.

We finally returned to something akin to a visitor's center, where the kids had also just returned to after romping about in the swimming hole below the waterfall that we would have gotten to had we followed my advise. I was glad, in the end, that it had just been the three of us, because it made for some good bonding time (not to mention the fact that they are two of the few people I can understand well).

We all hung out at the visitor's center for a couple of hours. Karaoke and bare-handed fish catching attempts seemed to be the highlights. I felt sort of lonely during this time because I only knew a few of the kids from the group I had helped with at the center the day before. It is infinitely harder to understand kids' Spanish.

Back at the hacienda, bunk beds were chosen with much excitement and, after a couple of boys said grace for us, we ate another delicious meal--compliments of our center's resident chef. She is an interesting lady--sort of motherly, witch like, and dominatrix-ly all at once. She has two sons in the program, Israel and David, who always ask me questions about the United States that seem to come out of nowhere! For instance, in the middle of a calm, before-bed snack when we were all sleepily chatting about something unrelated, Israel turned to me suddenly to ask "Why did the United States lose the war in Vietnam." The next morning, while on the sidelines of our soccer scrimmage, David turned to me and asked "Do you guys do a lot of autopsies in the United States? That one kept me laughing for hours! I should mention that David is my favorite. Maybe 10 or 11 he is rabid for knowledge. He forced me to read him this really complicated book in English about potential theories on the fate of Amelia Earhart (wow! it just occurred to me how fitting her name is!!!). Yesterday, David took me on a tour of his favorite ornamental plants and gave me a rose.

Anyway, after dinner, this jovial Italian woman with a rat tail who is the resident volunteer, led a hilarious and raucous scavenger hunt that required cross dressing and singing and leaf gathering galore! The kids loved it and it was a huge success. Then, we all sat around this big fire and chanted silly song-games and told jokes (none of which I understood). Some people told fables and we all sang different songs in groups. The rat-tailed Italian played her guitar and sang in her native tongue. OH! I forgot to mention! Two guys and I were the scavenger hunt judges and we decided to announce the winner when everyone was around the fire. I felt like some sort of reality show host. As the fire lit our faces dramatically, my two co-hosts gave speeches in somber voices about how everyone should be proud but (dum dum) there can only be one winner. I was waiting for the over dramatic synthesizers to make their entrance.

At about 11, we began a feeble dance party around the fire which quickly dissolved into sleepy faces in the mess hall drinking hot brewed vanilla-tasting tea made from these dried up brown seeds that are evidently some form of sweet pepper. Israel and I exchanged pickup lines in Spanish.

The next morning I played soccer till the altitude got me. We left at two, and I got "home" at 5. I could barely function from weariness and the arrival of sickness. I tried to sleep at six o'clock but instead lay in bed feeling a bit sad. Everyone in my host family but JuanCarols was gone on an overnight trip to visit family. Eventually, I got up and Juan Carlos and I lounged on Azucena's bed and drank hot flowery lemon tea and watched the Bourne Identity. It was just the coziness I needed, and now here I am this morning feeling much refreshed!