Nestled in the Andes: The first trial: take it all in

As I am trying to write this there are two little girls and a little dog scrambling for the attention of my lap. Ok. now they've settled for watching me type. But i'm getting ahead of myself...

I think in the last two (full) days that i've been here I've fulfilled the textbook model of the emotional journey of the traveler. First: the blissful shock of exoticism. When I arrived and saw the lights spreading themselves elegantly over the mountain peaks I thought that nothing could be more lovely. That night, comfort and bliss decended as Gabriel, Sara, and I switched flawlessly from english to spanish, laughing our heads off. I slept wonderfully (and evidentally dreamt about action figures--according to sara who was up most of the night listening to me talk in my sleep). Upon opening my eyes to the Andes sloping overhead, I exclaimed groggily to sara "I feel so at peace." Warm milk and bread for breakfast seemed so simple and lovely. When, at the office of Nuevos Horizantes (my volunteer liason) I finally learned about my family and the work I was going to be doing, I was shocked! delighted! at how wonderful it all seems.

So then, after receiving several lengthy (but welcome) speeches in spanish about my seguirdad (security), I headed off with an amiable 42 year old spaniard psychologist named Jordin who works with drogadictos in his home city of Barcelona. He talked my ear off in spanish as we navigated the bus and trolley systems on the way to the Don Bosco center in the south where I will be working. I have been pleasantly surprised at how my spanish has served me; Jordin and I got along well in this new language.

The center seems wonderful. The neighborhood is very poor, as is most of the south of Quito (which I say although it pains me to ever present any evidence that supports Elham's ridiuclous claim!). I didn't get a real chance to observe the center in action because it was a lunch break and everything is in transition now anyway because the children just got out of school. During their school year, the foundation, Don Bosco, provides supplemental education. Now, as the vacation has begun, they are starting something akin to summer camp. In fact, this weekend we are all taking some sort of overnight trip to a mountain. I'm not entirely sure; everything is a lot fuzzier in spanish. Anyway, everyone in the center seems "super chevere." A few of the women there cooked a delicious meal for us- soup, rice, and a dainty smattering of meat and fried plantinas. All the food in Quito is great! Limey and cilantroey and meaty like I like it!

On the way back north from the center, clouds rolled in so Jordin and I waited in the cold, run down street for the late bus and my mood couldn't help dampening. On the bus ride back I felt a bit cold, tired and floating away from familiar ground. Sights seemed sadder to me. But eventually we met back up with Gabriel and Sara and back at Gabriel's house I was able to feel warm and familiar and tweak my perspective and perceptions back into order (i'll avoid regaling you with the conclusions I came to but they are all very comforting and exciting ways of positively looking at my situation).

Today, I met my family and what a perfect situation! The house is in a lovely safe(ish) area near a park and this huge cultural center where there are cheap movies and performances all the time. I think I was meant for this family because the name of mi madre is Azucena, which means Lily. She has a husband named Fabrico who she describes as cuadrado (an adjective I have heard several times to describe someone with a serious demeanor). They have two daughters--sofia and amy--aged four and six, and what little balls of hillarious energy! Azucena is young and lovely and just about the sweetest woman I have ever met. We tried to make a cake together earlier, but its ingredients were a bit questionable. It was made of: predominately margerine, cocoa powder, and a little flour and nuts. It oozed all over the oven and emerged burnt and gloopy. (I got to lick the batter bowl, though, which was probably the equivolent of licking clean a tub of margerine.) After the cake debaucle, we drank tea and sat around chatting comfortably for an hour about beef consumption and only-children and altitude and whether or not women need to have professions and dieting and what kinds of fruit trees I have back at home (this presented some vocabulary challenges). We talked about differences between the coast and the montains and George Bush and a lot about her previous host daughters (one of which wouldn't eat anything but french fries!!! que horror!)

Then I climed out the window onto their (our) overgrown terrace the has a beautiful view of the cloudy mountains. There,I played with their (our) fluffy little dog in the sun and pretended to eat salad with Amy (it was actually clover).

Sara and Gabriel came and got me. We had lunch with Sara's quiteñan mother, Pati, (I had ceviche that turned black from the ink of the squid). Then, we met up with their friend Esteban (who there have been numerous failed attemts to set me up with for about six months). We sat out on the lawn at their university and, of all things, conversation turned to the best way to control the coca/cocaine trade! I remained silent for a long time before attempting a few passionate sentences on my theories about desarrollo alterativo (alternative crop development in the Andes). Then, they began talking about the war in Colombia--the other topic of which I consider myself moderately knowledgeable.

i'm here in my family's house now where, as you may have gathered, we have INTERNET!

Quickly, before this becomes too long, I am going to record a couple of cultural/geographical differences of note:

Everything is so cheap! Buses- 25cents, Taxis- a couple of dollars, a savory empinada at the trolley station- 60cents (i feel like i'm composing a mastercard commercial).

toilet paper goes in the trashcan, not the toilet

no one drinks sink water

because we're at 9,000 ft (!!!), going up stairs is a bit of a respiratory chore! Not to mention the fact that everything bakes weird at such a high altitude)

There are tiny markets on every corner, but all of the ones in teh south are behind bars, so we have to call out for a while before someone will emerge from behind a sack of potatoes in the back, for instance.

I stick out by complexion

we are constantly kissing each other--even the remotest of strangers. For instance, today in a museum, the archeological curator and I kissed hello. Then, after she said a couple of words to those whom I was with, we kissed goodbye having never exchanged a word ourselves!