Mid-Service in Mindo

Finally! A legit blog post.

Apologies again for the delay but I promise you, you did not want to read blog posts about my typical day here. Trust me. Not that exciting.

So...Mindo! And mid-service! (Yes! I finally have things to say that are exclamation point-worthy.)

I can't begin to tell you how amped I was to see my fellow volunteers once again. Aside from a brief weekend visit from Danielle, I hadn't seen any of them since we tearfully parted ways at the beginning of March. As much as I love my host family and my friends here in Ibarra, I really needed to connect with those people who know exactly what I've been going through and can swap stories about Ecua-dumps and mutant cockroaches.

Our group (minus the two volunteers from Esmeraldas) met up in Quito on Thursday to grab lunch and take our private bus to Mindo. I was the last of the group to arrive and was immediately engulfed in hugs and backslaps from the waiting volunteers. In spite of the four month absence, we picked up exactly where we left off.

The group bus was late (well, no, that's not true--it was simply running on Ecua-time) and it was a tight fit, but the ride to Mindo was only two hours and seeing as we all either wanted to catch up or catch up on sleep, it flew by.

I'm not sure what I expected Mindo to look like. But I must have been expecting something because I was surprised at how small it was. It is definitely a one-stop-light-town that can be completely canvassed within a brisk 15 minute walk. I liked it immediately, though. The small shops and restaurants. The little-more-than-dirt road. The chickens and burros absently wandering about the little-more-than-dirt road. The quiet. I felt like I had been dropped into the middle of a movie set for some South American cowboy flick. It was like Ecuador's version of a sleepy Western town. I was just waiting for some boot-strapped Bill to come tumbling out of one of the tiendas.

After turning off the main road and passing a few ramshackle buildings, we arrived at our hostal. I almost missed it at first since half of it had been overtaken by creeping vines and bushes and  the other half looked as though it was still under construction. (Don't be fooled, though, the inside was lovely.)

Since we were on a tight schedule, our first mid-service session began almost as soon as we had put our bags down. I won't bore you with the details of what we discussed, but the entire conference was more or less a chance for all of us to recount our experiences thus far in Ecuador and offer and receive suggestions, advice, observations, etc. as well as voice some of our complaints. I think the biggest thing I took away from the conference was the opportunity to be completely honest about my Ecuadorian experience with people who "got it."

My Ecua-family and friends and my US family and friends only understand a portion of what it's like to leave everything behind and spend a year volunteering in a 3rd world country. It's a beautiful, amazing experience but it doesn't come without its drawbacks and downsides. Being able to "debrief" with each other simply reminded me that everything I had been (and still am) experiencing is normal and that I really am okay.

Okay, so conference aside, we took advantage of our first bit of free time to take a tour of the local chocolate factory, El Quetzal.

For being such a small town, Mindo is swarming with tourists. Our tour group of about 15 consisted of Americans, Germans, and two French girls. The tour guide took us step by step through the entire process of how chocolate is made, starting from the bitter cacao beans right up to a delicious chocolate brownie to cap off our visit. Along the way we got to taste raw coffee beans, chew on a piece of lemongrass and raw stevia (delish!), and sample chocolate BBQ sauce, ginger honey, and cacao syrup.

Pure chocolate. Right outta the shell. Don't be deceived--it's not as delicious as it looks

Our tour guide standing next to the stevia plants. We were each invited to pull off a leave and chew it--it was like someone poured a teaspoon of sugar in your mouth!

Raw coffee bean. It was actually surprisingly sweet!

Drying cacao beans

The tour concluded with a round of purchases in the gift shop and some down time in the on-site coffee shop.

All smiles after our chocolate "high"

The conference concluded the following day at noon, but all of us (save one) decided to stay on for an extra night so we'd have time to go zip lining. Mindo is known for its adventure tourism and we couldn't leave without experiencing at least some of it. Besides, we had yet to leave the town of Mindo and get a good look at the cloud forest.

Having visited a cloud forest near Melbourne, I had imagined that the flora and fauna would be pretty similar. Walking into the forest in Australia was like walking into a scene from Jurassic Park. I think I actually jokingly asked our tour guide if part of the movie had been shot there. The cloud forest in Mindo, though, was completely different. The forest in Melbourne felt more like a jungle while the cloud forest in Mindo felt more like, well, a forest. The difference in altitude and the presence of the mountains meant that the plant life had no resemblance at all to the plants in Australia. It was still breathtaking, though!

A $4 "taxi" ride brought us to the start of the zip lining course (and by taxi ride I mean standing in the back of a pickup truck as we bounced our way up the mountain). The course was flooded with people when we arrived. Clearly, zip lining was THE thing to do in Mindo. As much as heights terrify me, I was absolutely psyched to start the 10 cable zip line course and was not pleased with our 15 minute wait. Did I mention patience is not my strong suit?

Once we were all harnessed up and after a brief safety talk (in Spanish, and I was able to follow practically all of it--progress!), we one by one took our first cable ride across the canyon to start our zip lining adventure.

There was a bit of hiking in between the cables which was somewhat difficult with the gear hanging from our harnesses. But each cable that followed made it totally worth it. Our zip lining guides invited us to ride the cables "superman" or "butterfly" style and I volunteered to try both. The "superman" involves being harnessed to the cable so that you are hanging parallel to the cable and "flying" through the air much like our beloved, caped superhero. The "butterfly" position was a bit more extreme. You are hooked to both a guide and the cable and then flipped upside down with the guide holding your feet in place. Although the harness was a bit painful in that position, zipping through the air, upside down, with little more than a wire to keep you from plummeting to the forest floor hundreds of feet below was exhilarating to say the least!

Coming in on the final cable. They definitely saved the best for last--the view was incredible!

After our zip lining adventure, the rest of our stay in Mindo was fairly quiet. We were all exhausted from traveling and our conference sessions and hanging out on the hammocks at the hostal was simply too tempting to resist. Not to mention, we had a 6:30am bus ride to Quito the next day.

BUT, being the troopers that we are, we still managed to cram in a little bit of karaoke before calling it a day. I'd only done karaoke once before in Australia and this was a totally different experience. Instead of going into a private room with your buddies, you sit at tables around the bar and sing from your chair when the mic is passed to you. Oh, and if the thought of belting out "Summer Nights" in front of a room full of strangers wasn't intimidating enough, there's points involved, too. (Nothing like that competitive Ecuadorian spirit.)

I'd like to say that the trip home from Mindo the following morning was uneventful. That I arrived home safely without being unceremoniously dropped off on the side of a highway in the middle of Quito. I really would. But I did promise you an interesting read, didn't I?

After arriving in Quito around 8:45am, I parted ways with the rest of the volunteers and took a short taxi ride to Terminal Carcelen to catch the bus back to Ibarra. I'd done this before so I confidently purchased my ticket, walked through the turnstile, and hopped on the Aerotaxi bus headed for Ibarra (italics totally added for emphasis).

About 15 minutes into our bus ride, the driver's assistant came around to collect tickets. Since he was also the person who had sold me my ticket at the counter to Ibarra, he clearly knew my destination was Ibarra. Needless to say, when he saw me sitting on the bus he immediately informed me that this bus was in fact headed to Santo Domingo and that I would need to get off the bus ASAP to catch the bus to Ibarra. I looked around bewildered since we were clearly in the middle of a highway and there was neither bus stop nor taxi stand nearby. Nor any friendly locals to point me in the right direction. As much as I had no desire to travel to Santo Domingo, I also did not want to leave the relative safety of the bus.

However, the driver's assistant did not pick up on any of this and practically dragged me to the door and kicked me out. All the while I was frantically trying to ask in Spanish where exactly this bus to Ibarra was and how I was to get on it. This was only answered with a pointed finger to some ambiguous spot on the opposite side of the highway and the slam of the bus door as it jetted off to Santo Domingo.

So there I was, half-awake (we got up at 5am to catch the bus from Mindo to Quito), completely disoriented, and saddled down with my backpack and duffel bag and not a clue as to what was to happen next. After wandering up and down the shoulder of the highway for about 10 minutes (and getting plenty of curious stares from the passing vehicles), I decided my best bet was to try and flag down a taxi back to Terminal Carcelen and start again.

One thing I will say for Quito is that there is never a short supply of taxis. A few moments later I was on my way back to the bus terminal and twenty minutes (and a thorough check that I was on a bus to Ibarra) later, I was finally headed home.

My trip to Mindo was my first excursion outside of Ibarra (save my trip to the states) since I arrived here in March. It was so wonderful to take a break from my routine and see a little more of Ecuador. And it got me even more psyched for the trip I'm planning to take to the coast in August. While Mindo is beautiful, it's still located in the sierra and I'm looking forward to experiencing the differences the coast has to offer. Apparently, from what the other volunteers tell me, life on the coast is an entirely different Ecuador.

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It didn't really hit me until we were on the bus from Mindo to Quito that I'm officially halfway through my year here in Ecuador. Depending on when I decide to wrap up teaching at my school, I'll be home again within the next 5-6 months. (What?!?)

The conclusion of my time here means so many things: job searching, reverse culture shock, ending the life here that I will have spent a year building, determining whether to return to the states or stay abroad...lots of things I'd rather not have to think about at the moment. Ibarra has finally started to feel like home and now it's time to prepare to uproot myself and start again.

It's too early to say anything with much certainty, but I do think I would like to stay in South America for another year or two. My Spanish still needs (alot of) work and I'm really starting to get the hang of teaching. And what can I say? I really love living in Ecuador. I have started scoping out other English schools here and did find one that I could possibly begin teaching with in January so, who knows, maybe this adventure might last a bit longer...

Checkin' in

Eeep!!

I know it's been awhile guys.

My apologies.

Between traveling back to the United States for my best friend's wedding, getting over two bouts of illness (stomach issues and a cold) and finishing up my third module of teaching, blogging hasn't been at the top of my list of priorities. Also, I have a few mini-trips coming up and I figured I'd just blog when I got back and actually had news to share.

So this entry is more of a "hey, I'm still alive and thinking of you guys and planning to post a proper entry soon so don't lose heart." :)

Really quickly though...
I'm about to finish my third teaching module (!!) here at CECAMI and this coming week I'll be meeting up with my fellow February volunteers in Mindo for our mid-service conference. All of this means that I've officially reached my halfway mark here in Ecuador. I'm tentatively planning to end my "year" here at the end of December so I can be home for Christmas so I have approximately five months left.

Oh man, not sure how I feel about that...

After I conclude this module on July 23rd, I'll be on a month long break for the month of August. No classes. No teaching. Still not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do for three weeks but I'm thinking there will be lots of traveling involved if I can budget wisely. So there should definitely be more entertaining posts (complete with pics and vids) coming shortly.

Hope you're all doing well and keep an eye out for new posts!

Teaching reel

I realize I've been posting quite a few videos lately, but here's one more for your viewing pleasure. I had to film myself as one of my assignments for my teacher training program and thought I'd share some of the footage. Now you can see exactly what I do for 4 1/2 hours every day. :)

Videos of Quito & Imbabura

I've had these video clips hanging around on my computer for awhile and finally got the chance to put them together for you guys. One of the videos contains clips I took during my orientation in Quito and the other is of different places I've visited around Imbabura (the province I live in). They're not the best quality but it'll give you a better idea of just what the sierra in Ecuador looks like. Enjoy!

(By the way I did not check the spelling of Imbabura before posting the video, hence the misspelled title. My apologies.)

The Ugly Piece of Beautiful

I decided to go for a hike today. The skies were clear, the sun was shining and I hadn't worked out since Tuesday. What better way to enjoy the weather and burn off the lemon pie I ate last night than with a hike up La Loma de Guayabillas (Guyabillas Hill). After a thorough dousing of bug repellent (I was devoured the last time I went), I grabbed my water bottle and my book and was off.

The walk to Guayabillas from my house is pretty much a straight shot. You spend the entire trip walking directly towards "la loma" and the surrounding mountains. It's a beautiful vista. The tops of the mountains shrink and grow as the crowds gently brush against them. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of a lone tree on the ridge line before it once again fades into the mist. Further down the mountainside, the sun and shadows dance around each other, casting amorphous shapes onto the slopes checkered with fields and farms. Yes indeed, it was another beautiful day in our mountainous paradise.

As I drew nearer to Guayabillas, I noticed a family walking towards me. Oddly enough, they were tromping their way through the knee-high grass instead of using the wide, well-bricked sidewalk just feet away from them. Strange, but hey this is Ecuador and you don't ask questions. By the time I actually reached them they had managed to find their way off the grass and onto the sidewalk so, okay then. I continued on, shaking my head...and then stopped dead in my tracks. Now I could see why the family had wisely chosen the grass over the sidewalk.

There, ten feet in front of me on the sidewalk, was a dead dog. It lay on its side, it's body bloated and stiff from hours in the Ecuadorian sun. It's legs were rigidly stretched out in front of him as though he'd been shot and stuffed and put on display. Swarms of flies converged on it's white matted fur and crawled lazily in and out of it's now empty eye sockets. Instinctively, I turned my head away and practically launched myself off of the sidewalk.

The cooling breeze that had just moments ago been the perfect touch to a perfect day, now carried the scent of rotting flesh with each gust. I lengthened my steps willing myself to move past it before my curiosity got the best of me and I turned for another look. I didn't move fast enough.

There it was again. No more than three feet away. A huge rotting carcass heaped in the middle of the sidewalk. Even at that proximity, I couldn't tell what breed it was. A terrier? A spaniel? A mutt? Regardless, I know it deserved a long, full life with a loving family who would grieve his passing instead of the undoubtedly pitiful existence it had experienced as an Ecuadorian street dog.

I averted my eyes again and hurried on towards Guayabillas. But now when I looked at the mountains rolling and dipping in their endless wave of green and shadows, I saw that dog. Suddenly my little piece of beautiful had turned ugly. It had been tainted by a grotesque reminder that not everything here was sunshine and hillsides.

I spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about that dog. Even as I made my way up Guayabillas and the city of Ibarra majestically rolled itself out beneath me, my mind kept flitting back to that image.

It's crazy, isn't it? The way we get so caught up in making out the world the way we want to see it. We seek that which is beautiful and pleasing and makes us feel good about ourselves and I'll be the first to say that we should be grateful for those things. But when do we ever think about the other side? The other half? The people and the situations and, yes, the animals whose existence in our "paradises" we dismiss or ignore because they might make us realize changes need to be made. That might force us to realize that perhaps the world in the little bubble we've constructed for ourselves isn't the world as it truly is.

At some point you have to take your eyes off the mountains. At some point the grass runs out and you can't step off the sidewalk. What then?

Toro-bol

Yesterday was one of those days when Ecuador smacked me square between the eyes. Here I was finally starting to think, "Yeah, I got you, Ecuador" and then smuh-ACK! I was blindsided right outta left field.

After living anywhere for long enough, you adjust. All of the differences and strange little idiosyncrasies that just seemed so weird at the beginning become just another part of the daily grind. But then, just when you've fallen into a happy little routine, you come face to face with a brand new bit of ludicrous-ness that you just weren't prepared for.

CECAMI is a community school run by the municipal government of Ibarra. That makes me a employee of the city. This past Friday was the annual municipal workers "field day," if you will. We all walked, drove, bussed or taxied it out to La Plaza del Torros to spend the entire day eating concession stand food and participating in the festivities. Having never been to such a soiree before and only being able to understand part of my boss's explanation about the schedule of events due to my limited Spanish, I had no idea what these "festivities" were going to entail.

It all started off innocently enough. One of the bigwigs in the municipal department spent a solid 30 minutes getting the crowd warmed up by leading them through a series of motivational chants and dances. The concession stands were doing a lucrative business and, in spite of the drizzle, everyone seemed in high spirits. (I believe this was largely due to the amount of alcohol being imbibed at this time. Please note, it was well before noon.)

Recall that the name of the stadium was La Plaza del Toros. I originally dismissed this as being nothing more than a name. I mean there are lots of parks and stadiums and such named after animals, right? Not a big deal. I've visited a park called Bear Mountain before and needless to say I didn't encounter a single grizzly.

Minutes after the pep rally ended, the ring was suddenly filled with a group of men waving pink and red blankets. And, sure enough, there was Mr. Toro. Okay, fine, so clearly there was going to be a little matador-ing going on. While I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of aggravating a poor animal, I had seen and heard of this before and it was nothing new.

Thankfully, this activity only lasted for about five or ten minutes and the following activity simply involved a bunch of grown men running up a greased plank of wood to try and grab a ribbon secured at the top. Silly, but again, not a huge deal.

Once all of the ribbons had been "won," the ring was cleared and two teams of men entered the ring to play what appeared to be a basic game of futbol. It's Ecuador so I knew futbol was going to come into play at some point. Nothing weird there.

What I wasn't expecting was after five minutes into the game for a live, raging bull to be let loose in the ring with the soccer players. While the rest of the crowd roared with excitement, I felt my jaw completely unhinge itself and began to desperately send up prayers for divine intervention for those crazy souls in the ring.

The game quickly dissolved into chaos with players still desperately trying to move the ball across the "field" while also keeping an ever-watchful eye on the bull who kept charging the men at a moment's notice. I'll admit it was a bit comical at times to watch the way the players scrambled to haul themselves over the nearest wall to avoid getting a solid headbutt from the bull. The problem was that the players didn't always make it out of the way in time. Over the course of the three (yes, three!) games of "toro-bol" that were played, there were at least five times that some poor guy got headbutted or worse by the bull. It was terrifying to watch the men being knocked around and trod on by the bull with not a soul to save them. And yet each time, the players got up, dusted themselves off and kept right on going. At one point one of the players took his shirt off and you could see the huge, red, soon-to-be-killer bruises covering his torso.

I have no doubt that a large part of this insanity had to do with the "machismo" culture here in Ecuador. The more cracked ribs and plate-sized bruises you can show off at work the next day or use to impress your girlfriend, the better.  All I can say is that when the finally whistle blew to signal the end of the "toro-bol" championship and all of the men where still alive and un-gored, I remembered what it was to breathe again.

I'm still not entirely sure what the purpose of our little "field day" was. Usually companies and organizations host these type of events to encourage cooperation, friendship, and trust between co-workers while giving them a chance to let their hair down a little. I don't know that watching grown men being chased by a bull quite did that for me.

Let's do it again!

Tomorrow morning at 8AM I start my next five week teaching cycle at CECAMI. Tomorrow I get to do it all over again.

I've been on vacation this past week so I've had some downtime to reflect on my first five weeks of teaching. Out of the 24 Basic students that I taught, 15 passed my class and 9 didn't. I don't think I've taught long enough to properly determine what this says about my teaching--but I'm definitely proud that more of them passed then failed. That has to mean I'm doing something right, right? And I found, for the most part, that those who failed to make the 70% necessary to pass the class were those who were largely unmotivated and generally uninterested in learning English to begin with and who only showed up because their parents were forcing them to on pain of death.

Slackers aside, I can honestly say I am enjoying teaching. I always knew I wasn't cut out for a desk job and these last five weeks of teaching, plus the two I did in Quito, have simply proven that point. The classroom just might be the place for me. (Disclaimer: This perspective may have changed after the next seven months.) I know that wherever I end up I need a dynamic and challenging work environment. One that allows me the freedom to think and create and affords me the possibility of having a positive impact on someone's life.

I'm certainly beginning this next cycle with more confidence than I did the first one. I know the school, I know my students, and I know more grammar now than I did before (not alot more, but it's something). Having said that, everyday I continue to learn right alongside my students. Everyday I find what works and what doesn't, what my students enjoy and what draws blank stares, what to do when a tarantula enters the classroom and what not to do. And everyday I am that much better for it.

I think the one thing that surprised me the most from my first cycle was just how much I ended up caring for my students. As we said our goodbyes on that last Friday of the cycle, I became increasingly distressed as I found out which students would not be returning for another module. I have discovered that when you teach, you don't just impart knowledge to your students, you impart bits and pieces of who you are. And when they leave they take those little parts of you with them. Now that I know this, it's even more important that what I give to them--all of those little bits and pieces--are bits and pieces that will shape them into not only better English speakers, but also better people.

Here in Ecuador my students call me "teacher." Not Amanda. Not Ms. McCarther. Just "teacher." I think some people might find this impersonal but I think it's a wonderful thing. It reminds me of my purpose here, of the fact that I have people who I have a responsibility too. It reminds me of the significance of the relationship between teacher and student and all that it entails. And it reminds me that I belong here. That I am part of a wonderful little learning community that is actively working towards making a difference in this big, wide world of ours.

Tarantula vs. "Horse Killer"

I found these adorable little fellas in the lawn outside of my classroom today. Nothing like a bit of blood-lust to make your afternoon cheerier. Can I just say I'm glad these two are far, faar away from my house. I'm pretty sure my heart would have stopped beating if I encountered these guys in my bedroom.
Just to clarify: the spider is a tarantula and the thing that's killing it is a "matacaballo," which more or less means "horse killer." Hmm...

Oh, Ecuador! Oh, Ecuador...

Now that I've lived in Ecuador for two months, I feel that I'm finally moving pass that initial "Ecuador is SO amazing/ohmigoodness someone please take me home!" phase and am starting to realize what I truly like about Ecuador and what drives me just a little crazy. It can be quite easy to start focusing on the negative the longer you stay in another country, but it's both the awesomeness and the craziness that come together to make living abroad an experience unlike any other. So, for your reading enjoyment, here are a few things that make me smile and say "Oh, Ecuador!" and a few that make me slap my forehead and say "Oh, Ecuador..."

"Oh, Ecuador..." 
(Let's start with the not-so-great things first so we can end on a high note.)
- The graffiti that covers every inch of available wall space in the city. Some of it is art-worthy...most of it is not.
- You're out late partying and your bladder is bursting and you can't find a public restroom? By all means use the street. It's not late and you haven't been out partying but the sidewalk is just so convenient? Go right ahead, buddy.
- I don't live on the coast with swarms of mosquitoes, but if you go for a hike rest assured you will return with a generous helping of insect bites. And, no, wearing long pants will not save you. These suckers went right through the material!
- When you ask a kind stranger for directions and end up on the other side of the city in the complete opposite direction of your intended destination because "the kind stranger" simply told you what you wanted to hear even though they had no clue where you were headed.
- The incessant barking from the neighborhood's dogs at all hours of the day and night. Oh, and the neighborhood rooster who likes to join in the melee (and who, by the way, crows waaay before the sun in rising).
- The dog poop that litters all of the sidewalks courtesy of the huge population of street dogs.
- Which leads me to another thing--the huge population of street dogs. Most of these dogs are so lovely and deserve a good home and it's awful to see so many of them scrounging for food on the streets.
- The concept of refrigeration is apparently not widely accepted. When we finish lunch (or any sort of meal), everything that we didn't eat sits on the stove in a pot (or on a plate on the counter) for the rest of the day...or days. Ants and cockroaches love us.
- The towel that you use to dry your hands in the kitchen is also the towel you use to wipe your mouth, mop up the coffee spill, dry the dishes, and cover the leftover cake sitting out on the counter. I think it gets washed once a week. I think?

"Oh, Ecuador!"
- So, this is what REAL fruit tastes like. Any fruit you can imagine and any juice from any fruit you can imagine is readily available and dirt cheap here.
- The amazing climate. Ibarra is located in a valley and thanks to it location has beautiful weather year round. We only have two seasons--wet and dry--and the wet is barely wet at all.
- I know everyone says this about South America, but everyone says it because it's true. The people here are amazing! It doesn't matter who you are, you're bound to be shown some authentic Ecua-love.
- I love the Ecua-greeting -- hug and air kiss on the cheek. After all, seven hugs a day keeps the doctor away!
- Family is so important here. Ecuadorians are very family-oriented and I love how often they spend time with both their immediate and extended family.
- Being called "mi hijita" by my host mom.
- People can actually dance here!
- I'm finally learning Spanish. It's a process for sure, but I think it's starting to sink in and become usable.
- I have students who actually want to learn. Sure, I've got some slackers, but on the whole my students make an effort to improve their English. It's a refreshing change from most American students.

So there you have it. My initial two-month impressions of Ecuador. I have no doubt that by the end of my year here both of these lists will have grown much longer and changed significantly. But that's all the more reason to write down these things now. I want to be able to look back on these lists in December or January and see just how much my perspective has changed from the beginning.

1 Month, 2 Month: Vlog Entry

Here it is, folks! First vlog entry from Ecuador. Enjoy and don't forget to comment! 

Happy Teacher's Day!

Tomorrow (Saturday) is Teacher's Day here in Ecuador. Teacher's Day is exactly what it sounds like--a day to celebrate your teachers and, if you're a really awesome student, bring them something to show them just how much you appreciate them.

Since I'm a brand new teacher here in Ecuador and since I teach at a community school and not in a traditional school setting, I wasn't expecting any displays of "teacher love" this week. But this morning, much to my surprise, my class brought me a cake to mark the occasion! (It's a good thing I waited to give them back their midterms on Monday, otherwise the affectionate feelings may have dissipated.)

So Happy Teacher's Day to all of you teachers out there, whether you're in Ecuador or not! Know that your students really do appreciate you, even if they don't always show it.

Chau!

A photo of me and my class after we had cake. They insisted on taking a picture!

The lake of guinea pigs

When you're surrounded by so many amazing mountains (and volcanoes!) you can't help but throw on your hiking shoes and grab your camera every time the sun is shining and you don't have class. This Saturday our wanderings took us to Cuicocha, a huge crater lake located on the outskirts of Cotocachi about 30ish minutes away from Ibarra. (Cuicocha is a Quechua word which literally means "guinea pig lake." Apparently it got its name because of the large guinea pig population which used to live in the area.)

My older sister Fernanda suggested that we get an early start to avoid getting caught out in the blazing Ecuadorian sun in the middle of the day. So at 7:30 Saturday morning, bleary-eyed and caffeine-deprived, me, Fernanda, Annie, and Belen all met at the bus terminal to begin our little adventure. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and I had remembered to put on insect repellent. It was bound to be a good day.

We arrived in Cotocachi a little after 8 and after securing snacks and taking a bathroom break, we were ready to tackle Cuicocha. A short taxi drive later found us standing on a gravel road in the middle of farmland at the beginning of an narrow, unmarked dirt path. To the unsuspecting eye, it would've been quite easy to miss. I actually didn't see it myself until Fernanda (our unofficial guide) pointed it out to me.

The trail itself was easy enough to navigate in that we were walking around a lake and had little chance of getting lost. Also, since we had started on the left side of the lake instead of the right, our climb was much flatter and had fewer uphill hauls. However, the wind was strong and the sun was stronger and I could never quite decide if I was too hot or freezing. My jacket kept coming off and going back on as the sun moved in and out of the clouds.

The view of the lake was breathtaking as we were high enough above it for the entire duration of the hike to have a bird's eye view. I couldn't seem to stop taking pictures as the crest of every hill provided yet another spectacular vista.

And it wasn't just the lake stealing the show. There were several varieties of mountain flowers along the trail that caused me to lag behind more than once so I could snap a quick photo.

We met quite a few other hikers along the trail (almost all of them fellow gringos, though mainly from the UK) and stopped a few times to make good use of our snacks (coconut cookies...so addicting). By about noon we were nearly to the end of the trail.

The latter half of the hike proved to be a bit more challenging than the beginning. We were going downhill but between the gravel and the stairs we were either catching ourselves from slipping down the mountainside or praying that our knees would hold out just a bit longer.

We did, however, make it safely to the bottom of the trail and after a quick detour to the museum (solely to use their bathrooms of course) went looking for transportation back to Cotocachi. We had gotten the phone number of the taxi driver who had brought us so we could ring him to come pick us up, but Fernanda had a better idea. Why not hitch a ride in the back of some kind lady's flatbed and save ourselves the $5 we'd spend on a taxi? So, sure enough, we waved down a truck headed back to town and enjoyed our (illegal) 10 minute ride with the wind in our hair and an amazing view of the surrounding countryside. A perfectly fitting end to our lakeside jaunt!
Click the video below to see footage of our ride and some shots of Cuicocha.

Also, for those of you not on Facebook, click here to see the entire album of photos I took during our hike.

Chau!

My address in Ibarra

I've had a few people ask me where they can send things here in Ibarra and I finally have an address for you. All letters and packages can be sent to my school: CECAMI, Jose Domingo Albuja 102 y El Alpargate, Ibarra, Ecuador 062641751.

Miss you all!

First week of classes

My first week of classes at CECAMI has ended. Thanks to the Easter holiday, my last class was Thursday morning so I have a wonderfully long weekend to relax and prepare for next week.

This past week was very interesting because in some ways my classes exceeded my expectations and in others they failed to meet them. I guess I should have done a better job of listening to our directors' advice about not having expectations.

As of right now I am teaching two classes everyday, one at 8:00am and another at 3:30pm. I'm supposed to have a 5:00 class as well but right now we simply don't have any students registered for that time period. (We're looking into possibly starting a conversation class at that time.) Both of the classes I'm teaching are Basic level with about fifteen students in each. They range in age from 13 to about 70 years old so there's quite a bit of variety.

I have found that my older students (30+ years) tend to have a much harder time with the language than my adolescent students. Overall, though, they are all at a much lower level than I had anticipated. All of the awesome lesson plans that I had whipped up over the weekend had to be altered and I ended up spending part of the week reviewing simple things like colors, days of the week, and basic introductions.

The great thing is that there are plenty of awesome activities that can be used to teach these things. And I have awesome students! After teaching classes of 40+ rowdy high school students for two weeks at Manuela Canizares in Quito, having a smaller, calmer class has been a breeze.

I do have two older students though, one from Colombia and one from the coast, that speak next to no English and are proving to be a bit of a challenge. They are clearly much further behind than the rest of my students and I'm struggling to find ways to bring them up to speed and keep them involved in classroom activities. In an ideal world, I would sit down with them and tutor them one-on-one. But, seeing as that is not an option, I need to go back and refresh my memory on how to handle multi-level classes.

Overall, my first week went very well and I'm very pleased with my classes. We were even able to celebrate a student's birthday on Thursday with Coca-Cola, peach & coconut cake and two rounds of the birthday song.

I think this is going to be a very good year. ;)

Venting an ear-ful

I usually try not to make a big deal about my hearing loss. After all, it is what it is. Normally I won't even tell people unless the situation absolutely calls for it. There are people much worse off than I am and I see no reason to dwell on the fact that I can only hear in my left ear.

But, I have been feeling a little frustrated over the last few days and instead of bottling up my emotions as I usually do, I thought it might be healthier to take a moment to vent them here. So please bear with me. (For those of you interested in a little backstory about my ear, you can find all the details on my other blog.)

I think most people would agree that language acquisition is difficult. There is no short way around it. It takes a willingness to learn, long hours, and motivation. As little as we think about producing our native language, it can come as a surprise just how much of an effort it takes to speak another.

Now, add to this already arduous task the issue of single-side deafness (SSD), and you have the source of my frustration. If language acquisition is hard when you have normal hearing, just think about what it entails when you can only hear a portion of what people are saying. Especially when the language you are listening to is one as rapid as Spanish where three words can often sound like one.

On Tuesday, I had my first Spanish lesson with a lovely German woman named Irma. It was my first official Spanish lesson since leaving Quito (everyday is chock full of unofficial "lessons"). For one wonderful hour, it was just the two of us in a quiet room conversing in Spanish. One of the biggest issues for people with SSD is not being able to hear when there is any sort of background noise present, so a quiet room is gold for me.

There wasn't a radio blaring on the table behind me; I didn't have a TV to contend with or multiple Spanish speakers chattering over each other; nor did I have the sounds of a bustling city preventing me from listening to every word that was being spoken. For a moment I believed once again that I really could learn this language. It was one of the few times since I've moved to Ibarra that I felt I was actually starting to "get" the language and not just muddling through.

I'm sure my host family would disagree on this point as they are kind and tell me that I'm doing well, especially my sister Fernanda. But I feel like most of the time I'm just doing an excellent job of faking it 'till I make it (and who knows when that will be). Or that I'm simply cycling through the same well-worn phrases day after day with no progress. And don't even get me started on the amount of times everyday I have to ask people to repeat themselves.

Unfortunately for me, we live in a loud world and most of the environments I'm in on a daily basis are noisy: my classroom, the dinner table, the sidewalk, the store, etc. And, unfortunately for me, I don't have the luxury of turning down the volume in any of these places.

Soo...what's a half deaf girl in a non-English speaking country to do? Take advantage of the quiet moments, I suppose. When I can clearly hear whatever it is that is being said--whether it's at my Spanish lesson or curled up in the living room with my host sister. If I can pick up enough of the language in those moments then perhaps when I'm in the not-so-quiet moments I'll be able to do a better job of deciphering whatever it is that's being said. Here's hoping anyway!

Mi Casa, Mi Hogar

Click here to see a video of my house here in Ibarra!

"Ohmigosh": An unplanned evening

Thursday night, I attended my first Ecuadorian birthday party. Which is funny since I hadn't planned to go out that night. I was all set to snuggle up with my laptop and get some prep work done for class (meaning, of course, catch up on my TV shows). I had actually just showered and booted up my computer when my host mom popped her head into my room and asked if I might be interested in attending a party for a relative with her and my sister, Karen.

Well of course I was! After all, that is what this year is all about--new experiences. So I exchanged my flannel PJs for a dress and some leggings and in less than five minutes was out the door.

As we were driving to the party, I tried to get some additional information from sister about just whose party we were going to. It turns out it was a 50th birthday celebration for my host cousin's wife's father....I think. That is, I'm pretty sure. I feel like a lot of stuff still gets lots in translation with me. But I'm getting there one step at a time.

After picking up another relative on the way, we arrived at a house on the outskirts of Ibarra a little after 8. The entire ride over I found myself becoming increasingly anxious. What on earth was I going to do at a party full of people who only speak Spanish? Would I have any idea what was going on? And what exactly does one do at an Ecua-birthday? What if I messed up some time-honored tradition and brought shame on the entire family?

Well. We arrived before my thoughts could get much further and, wouldn't you know it? Things just happened as they happen as they always do.

We met a few people outside on our way in and my host mom proudly introduced me as "mi hijita." (Let's just say that my anxiety suddenly didn't seem so overwhelming.) Then we walked through the door into a large room where all of the chairs and furniture had been pushed against the wall. Lining each wall was a row of seated relatives apparently waiting on us to get the festivities started. Before that could happen though, my mom, Karen and I had to go around and greet each person individually with either a handshake or the Ecua-greeting. (This is another Ecuadorian custom. It's very rude to enter a room without greeting everyone.) After twenty-something greetings I was practically worn out before we had even started!

At first, nothing really happened. We kind of all just sat awkwardly staring across the room at each other or making small talk with our neighbors. Someone came around and handed us small plastic cups with sparkling wine but no one took a sip. I became a little concerned that maybe I had overestimated the excitement of an Ecuadorian fiesta.

Just as I was about to lose all hope, the birthday man and his family entered. His daughter gave a beautiful speech about how much he meant to her and afterwards we all drank his health. Then she showed a short home video of pictures and quotes his family had put together for him. And then someone put on music! And the birthday man and his wife began to dance! And so did other people! And I was very happy to see that we were not going to be sitting stoically in our chairs all evening.

While the dancing began I noticed that the wife of the birthday man was slowly working her way around the room with a pitcher and what looked like a shot glass. I couldn't clearly see what was happening as my view was blocked by the dancers but I could see she was moving in our direction. Sure enough, several moments later she appeared in front of my host sister (who was seated next to me) with her pitcher of golden-ish liquid and a shot glass which also contained some of the liquid. The same shot glass, mind you, that everyone else had drunk out of. (Little Known Fact: Germs do not exist in Ecuador.)

My host sister turned to me. "Whiskey," she said and dutifully took her swig. Then it was my turn. Apparently we were toasting the the birthday man's health and it was clearly something we were all expected to do.  I followed suit and was happy to find it had at least been diluted with some water and that hopefully that was that. (If only...)

We ended up being served dinner a few moments later (and by dinner I mean a literal mountain of rice, turkey, potatoes, and a mixed vegetable salad). It was delicious but as I had been eyeing the birthday cake since we arrived, I was afraid I wasn't going to have room.

That was quickly solved once the plates were cleared. The music was turned back up to full blast and the dancing began in earnest. (Believe it or not Gangnam Style was played at one point.) I decided to just observe at the beginning. My height already made me conspicuous and I wasn't about to go out on the dance floor and make myself stand out even more by doing the wrong step.

It seemed like everyone was doing some version of a step-touch so when a mustached older relative finally asked me to dance I figured I could manage. Everyone seemed to be duly surprised that I could handle myself well on the dance floor and for the rest of the night I barely sat down. I received quite a few compliments and offers to learn more steps. I also received a nickname from the birthday man: "ohmigosh." (Said in the most valley-girl voice he could muster which made me lose it every time.) In fact, that's pretty much what I was called the entire night. It's even what he called me in his thank you speech to end the night.

During one of my brief breaks on the couch my sister and mom informed me that la hora loca would soon be upon us. From what I could decipher, it involved entertainers of some kind, masks and lots more dancing.

Also by this point, the whiskey pitcher had made its rounds so many times I had lost count. It seemed to be a bit of a game between some of the women and the birthday man (who was now the one in control of the pitcher) who would put up a fight about having to take another shot and him cajoling them that it was his birthday after all and didn't they want to wish him well?

Shortly before la hora loca the birthday wife passed out masks and cardboard ties to each of the guests. Then suddenly the room was full of balloons, confetti, a DJ, and two masked entertainers dressed in outlandish costumes. For the next hour they led the dancing which included everything from the macarena to a conga line. Some of us "lucky" ones even got pulled into the middle of the dance circle to try out a new move with one of the leaders. I couldn't help but laugh to see some of the grandparents getting down. Age was clearly not an obstacle when it came to busting a move.

After la hora loca  and the cutting of the cake (which, per Ecuadorean tradition, found part of its way onto the birthday man's face), many of the guests left. It was past midnight at this point and it was a Thursday so there would be work the next day. While we waited for my host dad to finish eating his dinner (he had arrived later and missed the meal), the last of our small group ended danced for another half an hour or so. I ended the night with a dance with the birthday man and then we finally went our way, arriving home a little after 1 o' clock in the morning.

So yes, my night had definitely not gone as planned. My "prep work" would have to wait for another day and there was a good chance I would be sleepy grading placement tests the following morning. But I had a wonderful experience and took one step closer to understanding and appreciating life here in Ecuador.

CECAMI!

Today is the last day before classes begin at CECAMI on Monday, so I took advantage of the empty campus to take a few photos and a video (click here!) for you guys. CECAMI is small but pretty and I'm so psyched about having my very own classroom.

Enjoy!

Meeting the parasites

It was bound to happen eventually. We were told to expect it. No, plan for it. It could happen at a moment’s notice and even to the well-prepared. Despite these admonitions, I was bound and determined to be the exception.

That was before yesterday morning when I woke up nauseous, feverish and weak. And , folks, I knew I had been had. Somewhere along the way, I had been infected.

Getting parasites, amoebas, worms, or some combination of the three is just simply a part of living the Ecua-life. They’re nearly impossible to avoid and no matter how careful you are, they always seem to find a way to make themselves at home in your digestive system. 

So what was my mistake? Well, I’m still not entirely sure (and probably won’t ever be), but I did rinse off a small piece of fruit in tap water…and then ate it. (gasp!) As harmless as that sounds, it’s obviously enough to wreak havoc on a gringa’s stomach.

I spent the majority of the morning moaning and groaning and heaving the few contents of my stomach into a plastic bag. My wonderful host mom, seeing my plight, whipped up a large carafe of oregano tea to help dispel the nausea. (I had never heard of this home remedy before but it definitely works.) By lunchtime I had worked through a fourth of the carafe but, aside from the lessened nausea, was only feeling mildly better.

My bestest friend...oregano tea

After a phone call with one of our WT directors, I decided it would be best to seek medical attention before things got worse. Actually, I came to this decision only after being strongly encouraged by the director to do so. I did not relish the idea of sitting in a waiting room for hours while my stomach hosted a three ring circus.

After lunch, my host mom and older sister, Fernanda, packed me up in the car (so thankful we have not one but two cars—I couldn’t imagine having to take a bus or hail a taxi in my state) and drove me to the hospital.

Now, I won’t lie. When I heard “hospital,” visions of some ramshackle, cinderblock warehouse overflowing with the sick and diseased and barely a staff or medical supplies to treat them filled my mind. Of course, this was completely ridiculous as I had seen hospitals and clinics in Quito, but what can I say? I wasn’t feeling well and my imagination was getting the best of me.

The hospital did turn out to be a bust, though not for the aforementioned reasons. Since I had neither diarrhea nor a temperature, I was deemed fit as a fiddle by the triage nurse and was told, if I so chose, that I could visit one of the local clinics to seek additional treatment. By this point, all I wanted to do was crawl up onto the nearest cot and pass out.

Thankfully, my host family was not so easily deterred. Off to the clinic we went only to be met by a long line of the sick and diseased in front of us (so maybe I wasn’t completely off). Seeing that I was going down fast, my host mom took matters into her own hands. She grabbed the first employee she could find and informed them that I was an American and needed to be treated right now. (At least, I think she said something like that. It’s difficult to translate Spanish when you’re dying.)

We were immediately directed to a traveling community health RV that was parked outside of the clinic. At first I was skeptical about just what kind of treatment I was going to find inside. After all, it didn’t really look like much—more or less a step down from a Red Cross RV. But we were met at the door by two women, one a nurse, the other a doctor, and my mind was instantly at ease.

They were young and friendly, but highly competent and, unlike the hospital, took the time to take my vitals and hear me out. I left with antibiotics, pain relievers, oral rehydration salts, and much more peace of mind. And the best part? I didn’t have to pay a dime. After going through all this, the last thing I wanted to do was have to worry about filling out paperwork for insurance.

As the day progressed, I felt increasingly more myself and by today was feeling like the old me again. Thank goodness that whatever I ended up with was only a 24 hour thing. And thank goodness it happened now and not next week when I’ll be teaching!

So will I go through this all of this again at some point this year? Most likely. And I admit, I’m not looking forward to it. But there’s some comfort in knowing that I’ve been there and made it to the other side and am none the worse for wear.

First night in Ibarra

I’ll admit that I had more trepidation about meeting my newest host family than I did about meeting my Quito family. This was largely because before I was paired with another volunteer who I knew I could rely on in times of confusion or exasperation. Here in Ibarra, I knew I was going to be totally and utterly on my own.

My anxiety was not helped by the fact that I nearly missed my taxi. Or that my host sister had to be called to verify the address because my taxi driver was clueless as to my destination. I did, however, arrive safely at my host family’s house a little before six on Saturday.

I was met at the door by my host sister, Karen, who coincidentally happens to be my age. We did the Ecua-greeting (hug & air kiss) and then she immediately grabbed two of my bags and ushered me through the front gate and into the house. As we were attempting to navigate my large bags around the car in the garage, my host mom and dad, Fernando and Monica, materialized on the stairs all hugs and smiles and a flood of Spanish goodwill. By the time we had reached my bedroom on the top floor, our party had increased by two to include my older host sister Fernanda and their cousin Veronica.

At first I felt a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people crowded around my bedroom door and the amount of Spanish being spoken all at once. I wanted to be sure that I didn't offend anyone right off the bat. After all, this was going to be my family for the next year.

As soon as my bags were put down, my host mom insisted on a tour of the house. My room was obviously the first stop where she showed me the private porch attached to my bedroom that offers me a gorgeous view of Ibarra and the surrounding mountains. (I have a feeling there will be lots of sunbathing occurring there…). My room is located on the top floor which has a bathroom (all my own!), a game area of sorts with a pool table, and a storage room. Another door leads to the roof which houses the clothesline, laundry machine, and hand washing stone (yes, hand washing your clothes is very common here). The first floor includes a kitchen, dining room, living room with bar, bathroom, two more bedrooms, and a master bedroom. It’s a very beautiful, large house, and I honestly couldn't have asked for more. 

My host mom continually asked me throughout the tour if I liked it even though I kept up a fairly steady stream of praise and admiration. (This is a very Ecua thing to do. If you think you’re being overly-effusive by American standards, you’re probably just barely skimming the surface by Ecua standards.)

Thankfully, my host mom is very perceptive and after the tour allowed me several hours to rest. I, of course, spent all of them frantically unpacking and getting things in order. (Best to just get it over and done with.)

As I was unpacking, I experienced the requisite wave of homesickness I knew was bound to come. There’s just something about that first time in a new room in a new city with a new family that gets to you. But before I could start wallowing in despair, Karen stopped by for a little bit to see how I was getting on and to chat a bit. She’s hoping to go to the states soon to live as an au pair and learn English so we joked about trying to learn each other’s language.

After my “siesta,” Karen and I walked next door to her aunt’s house where my family had gathered with their extended family for their weekly game of Bingo. Karen and I declined their offers for us to play but I enjoyed watching all of the aunts, uncles and cousins go at it in an attempt to win one of the random prizes each family had brought. My host dad won twice and received a clock and a set of religious coasters and my host mom won a basket. Apparently, I’m expected to get in on the action next week.

Around 9 o’clock, Karen, Fernanda, and I headed back to our house since they were going out to see one of their musician friends perform at a club at 10. At this point I was muy, MUY cansada so I told them I’d hang out with them until they left and then hit the hay. To my surprise, we all went to mom and dad’s bedroom to relax and prep for the evening instead of Karen’s or Fernanda’s room. (Another Ecua thing I’ll need to get used to. It’s perfectly normal for everyone to gather on mom and dad’s bed to watch TV and catch up.)

We spent the next hour doing what girls do best, chatting about guys (in Spanish of course) and painting our nails. Fernanda painted mine a brilliant shade of pink. I was quite pleased.  They also all commented on how good my Spanish was (but I think I’m just really good at pretending I know what’s going on).

While speaking Spanish all the time is fantastic practice, it’s can also be quite exhausting. I’m so thankful that Fernanda speaks great English. Sometimes it’s just too much work to figure out how to say, “Where can I hang up my clothes?” when your brain is completely fried from everything else. 

I will need to be careful not to always revert to English around her though. I feel like it’ll be far too tempting at times and I will be seriously upset with myself if my Spanish has not greatly improved by the end of the year.