31.Aug.09: In Which I Almost Milked a Cow and got Engaged.

There´s this family I teach every afternoon. I visited their farm yesterday after class to milk a cow. Jennifer, the younger one, brings me a noisy piglet, telling me to hold him tightly like a baby. I do. The cow I am to milk doesn´t have any milk after all. They invite me back this weekend, they invite me to the river, to eat soup, to sit by the fire. I do, but not until Jennifer, Kevin and I bring fat, fluffy sheep up to the farm, pound wooden poles into the ground, and leave them in the dark field. We all sit by the fire, talking and laughing. We talk about life in the United States, life in Ecuador; they tell me their brother, Fabian Freddy, is working in Italy. He is a good person, they say, with a degree in Engineering. We could get married and I could live in this house, sitting by the fire and milking the cows. I could take care of their parents; they have a house down the road that only needs windows and doors. Can he cook? I ask. Rice, Jennifer tells me. I am not sure this will work out. Jennifer brings me his University ID so I can see his photo although it is outdated. ¨Do you like this bracelet?¨ Marta asks. Yes, it is beautiful, I say, a bracelet made of thin orange thread. She tenderly ties it on my wrist. Comprometido! she cackles. Engaged, ooops!

The people are strong here in Salasaca, they tell me. Yes, I agree. The women. We laugh, but it´s true. Mamitas and Abuelitas carry heavy bundles of hierba and plant on their aching backs, bare feet padding down dusty roads.

My students teach me Quichua. It is their turn to write on the whiteboard, to give me vocabulary and correct my pronunciation. Small hands show me how to move my mouth. I can say small words; good morning, thank you, you´re welcome. I can´t seem to remember ¨hello¨ but I haven´t yet given up hope.

There is a hammock on the porch and when the sky is clear I can see the volcano. Dan plays fiddle when the stars are out and Jose is lending me his guitar. I was sick this weekend and the crew who went to Baños brought me back a small ukelele I named Patito. Sim and I have started Singing Club. Our reportie includes Lauren Hill and the Beach Boys. There is talk of a barbershop quartet. Look out, Salasaca! Here we come.

Katitawa

We eat green-ish-looking but surprisingly delicious oatmeal in the mornings. We live in the campo and walk to the library each day to teach classes. There are volunteers who work at the school doing construction and preparing for the school year, and we join them for lunch. I teach beautiful kids math and English. We play lots of bingo and label the things in the classroom.

Today I had a class of girls, 9 girls bubbling to bursting with energy, yelling and shouting to be heard while drawing fruits and vegetables on posters outside, ¨Daaaame tomate,¨they whine for the orange crayon. The girls are eager to learn, with bright eyes and terrible grinning teeth. Today we (the teachers) were late to class, and when we arrived at the library my group of girls were perched outside, waiting. I sent them upstairs, and told them I would follow in a minute. I gathered my supplies, and headed upstairs, only to find them ... sweeping the room, and putting the desks in order. ¨It was very dirty,¨they tell me.

Isaac and Daniel are precious boys; 11 and 12. Isaac has white-white teeth, scrunches his nose so he resembles some cute animal, and wears a pink, purple, and white knitted scarf and baseball cap, which covers his head of thick hair that falls to his shoulders. Today we wrote auto-biographies. We were talking about what we could do and what we liked to do. ¨Isaac is fisherman,¨Daniel tells me, grinning. Isaac denies it. ¨I like to fish,¨Daniel says. ¨I like to cook fish.¨ Isaac lifts his head from his desk, ¨I like to cook fisherman.¨ We laugh.

Teaching is energizing and exhausting. I have to close the library up, so that´s all for now.

Jess

Misadventures in Ecuador: in which I survive for two days in Guayaquil on 11 centavos and kindness

I made it to Ecuador. It has been a trying journey, but here I am in Baños, which, although jam-packed with tourists, has already won me over with its small-town charm and natural beauty.

Long story short, I arrived in Guayaquil with 11 centavos (that´s 11 cents in soles, which is approximately 3 cents in USD, because the 1 centavo (penny) isn´t even accepted) and somehow, with the help of lots of other people, not to mention the universe, I persevered. It was rough, and I cried a lot, but I also learned a lot. Too cheesy for you? Just wait. For two days, all I had to eat was a macandcheese cheese packet and angel hair pasta. Thank god it was angel hair. I can´t imagine crunching (not to mention digesting) anything more substantial.

Sometimes I forget how necessary money is to ones´survival in the world. Then, I am in this huge city unable to pay for anything, and without money to make a call for help, and I remember. It is humbling. I have such shame about asking for help sometimes, although that is one of the greatest lessons I am learning on this trip. I can only imagine what it is like for people who are always asking, begging, pleading with their eyes, hands, and mouths. Comprame, they say, and sometimes I don´t even look them in their eyes. Finding and embracing your humanity is a big deal.

Can I also mention I trusted a lot of older men to help me out of my sticky situation? Not sketchy ones, but still, there is a stereotype. If you´re not supposed to accept a piece of taffy from an older dude, why would you let one a) accompany you to the bus station, or b) walk you to the ATM machine late at night? Just wanna send a shout out to the really nice older men who helped me in Guayaquil. Hah.

Also, after I e-mailed my mom to let her know I was ok (in our last conversation, in the thick of my Guayaquil mis-adventures, I basically blubbered,) she sent me this hillarious and loving e-mail, which I just got this morning:

What a relief! I was having visions of you huddled in an alleyway, fending off men and begging for food! But mostly I knew that you are a resourceful young woman, and that you would be fine. I look forward to talking to you soon.

Love,

Mom

She´s the greatest.

Headed up to Kaititawa School tomorrow. Found an amazing Americorps opportunity at Mason County Literacy in Olympia. It´s community-based literacy work: working with the immigrant community, doing tutoring and ESL work, etc. Sounds perfect, right? Yep! So . . . altogether, things are coming together and looking up, up, up.

Which brings me to life lesson #1359500: keep trusting the universe and everything will work out, even if you only have 11 centavos and nothing to eat but raw angel hair and a mac&cheese cheese packet.