Santo Domingo, Hair Dye, and Pickpockets

After spending three weeks within the middle class enclave of Tumbaco, the PCTs of omnibus 106 finally ventured outside the valley to explore more of Ecuador. For our first technical trip, those in the TEFL program traveled to Santo Domingo de las Tsatchilas (AKA Santo Domingo de los Colorados).

The three hour journey to Santo Domingo, a town of about 200,000 people, is stunning. Beginning in the highlands of southern Quito, we trekked through the Andes mountains before plummeting down towards sea level and lush tropical vegetation. Along the way, we passed waterfalls, dramatic ledges, and trees reminiscent to those in Dr. Seuss's The Lorax. The temperature also spiked dramatically as the dry warmth of the sierra gave way to the tropical humidity of the coast. It wasn't, unfortunately, quite as hot as I would have liked...there's something simply wonderful about 100+ degree heat.

Upon arriving in Santo Domingo, we were greeted at the terminal by Maria Dolores, our program manager, and whisked to the hotel through the city's bustling streets. Our hotel was located in the heart of the city, amid panaderias, anarchic streets with too many taxis, and pulsating reggaeton beats escaping from the many storefronts.

We didn't have too much time to explore however. We were expected at Colegio Juan Moreno Espinosa momentarily to meet with the English teachers with whom we would work throughout the week. The urban high school is gigantic; approximately 2,500 students attend classes during either the morning, afternoon, or evening. Most live within the city, but some do commute for a couple of hours. It is, after all, a prestigious and public institution.

Throughout the week, we co-taught with the school's English teachers. Most teachers asked us to focus on pronunciation and speaking, although we gave some grammar and vocabulary lessons as well. As a group, we were quite impressed with the student's English skills. While we had learned that about 5,000 English teachers in Ecuador failed basic English tests administered by the Ministry of Education, the teachers demonstrated mastery of the language and the students seemed to be absorbing the material, although there was an admitted focus on grammar rules as opposed to communication (which is the norm within the Ecuadorian educational system). Moreover, I found the students' behavior impressive. Although each class had at least 45 students, the children behaved remarkably well. Had I been in a class of 47 students at the age of fourteen, I most certainly would not have been able to focus as well for the entire period.

In addition to our work within the school, we also ventured to Valle Hermoso, a rural community about 45 minutes outside Santo Domingo on Tuesday. This provided us with the opportunity to view the differences between an urban high school and rural institutions in terms of resources and curriculum.

In the afternoon, we enjoyed a cultural excursion to a Tsatchila community outside of Santo Domingo. Numbering around 1000, the Tsatchila are an indigenous community currently fighting to maintain their language and heritage in the midst of grinding poverty. While visiting with the pueblito, we saw the various ways in which they sustainably use the forest's resources to develop a variety of herbal remedies, the hair dye that inspired the Spanish to call them “Los Colorados” (hence the city's two names: Santo Domingo de las Tsatchilas or Santo Domingo de los Colorados” ), and a fruit dye used to make tattoos lasting for several weeks. When we left, I had a streak of red hair, and the fruit needed to give myself my first new tattoo. More importantly, I had several new 5-8 year-old-friends who had happily taught me Tsatchila words, Tsatchila dance moves, and mastered some numbers in English during our too brief visit.

Given that we spent most of our time either at high schools or on the cultural trip, we did not have much time to explore Santo Domingo independently. Perhaps it was for the best; Santo Domingo is amongst the most dangerous cities in Ecuador. It has recently been wracked by a series of murders currently dominating headline news in Ecuador. Moreover, it is the site of far too many robberies and assaults, as I, unfortunately, learned first hand.

Wednesday morning, Elizabeth and I ventured to a nearby panaderia to purchase some bread and yogurt for breakfast. Without thinking, I absentmindedly stuck a few coins and my cell phone in my pocket before leaving the hotel. As I stood in the panaderia chatting with the owner about her concoctions, two men ran into the open storefront, grabbed my phone out of my pocket, and sprinted across the street. I froze. What just happened?

Luckily, Elizabeth reacted. She ran into the street and began screaming “Socorro, Socorro.” I, too jumped, into action as the entire bustling neighborhood stopped and stared and sprinted across the road without regard for the oncoming traffic (poor choice). Five men also responded to her screams and began chasing the robbers. Realizing that it would not be as easy as anticipated to steal my cell phone, the pickpockets turned, hurled my phone at me, and disappeared into the hoards of pedestrians. Robbery averted. Win. Good thing we did all those 200 meter sprints during TUTF workouts.

Well, kind of. Luckily, no one was hurt in the exchange. As the PC staff (which was incredibly supportive in making sure that I was not too shaken up following the incident) has reminded me numerous times, never chase a pickpocket. While it seems to have lead to the recovery of my phone, it could have ended very differently had the men been violent or armed. A $38 telephone is not worth experiencing the Ecuadorian medical system nor learning firsthand the sad reality that the vast majority of violent crime in this country goes unpunished.

I not too upset by the incident itself. I was too complacent; my phone should not have been in my pocket and I should have been more aware of my surroundings. By virtue of having been born in a middle class family in the United States, I am inherently more priveledged than most around the world and I must recognize that this makes me more vulnerable. While I don't attach too much value to a cell phone (I absentmindedly stuck it in my pocket), there are other individuals for whom a $38 phone is a luxury that could feed a family for several days. Had I been born in another family elsewhere in our world, the situation could have been reversed.

This is not a means of justifying crime and robbery. The vast majority of impoverished individuals across the globe do not engage in criminal activities to survive, rather they demonstrate incredible ingenuity and resourcefulness in the midst of discriminatory social structures. Moreover, I don't even know if the robbers are poor; plenty of affluent individuals engage in criminal activity as well. These thoughts did, however, redirect my anger following the incident. Why rage at nameless thieves when I could redirect my fury at the systems creating poverty and inequality and use this to motivate me in my future endeavors as a PCV?

On the bright side, it was also incredibly heartening to see random pedestrians and vendors abandon their daily endeavors to rush to my aid. It is often said that people living in violent cities such as Santo Domingo become numb to violence, but that wasn't my experience. Rather, I saw a sense of community and social networks that served to minimize crime and create a safer city for all. Following the crime, it seemed as if most of the street including a security officer wandered over to the panaderia to ensure that the gringas really were okay.

On another note, we also had the opportunity to explore the Feria de Santo Domingo. July 3rd is the Feast of Santo Domingo and the entire city turns into a giant celebration as the Saint's Day nears. We consequently spent Thursday evening chomping on “pailas de helado” (dairy-free ice cream made by whipping fruit until it's creamy), empanadas colombianos, and coconut dulces as we wandered through artisan stalls at the local fair while listening to salsa, cumbia, merengue, and bachata music blaring through the loud speakers. And, yes, we know it's super gringa to sing along with Aventura and Marc Antony while dancing in las calles, but there are some parts of our culture we just arn't ready to leave behind.

Our adventure, unfortunately, ended on Friday and we returned to Tumbaco following a long bus ride defined by a driver whose skills were similar to mine at the age of 16 (and I failed the driving test at 17 years-old). Eeek. La noche was tranquila; I spent time catching up with other PCTs who had traveled to other parts of Ecuador with their respective programs and relaxing with la familia.

On Saturday, I once again ventured outside Tumbaco with Elizabeth and Lori; we went to Quito to explore the nearby city. We began by searching for Lori's former neighbors (she lived in Quito for a few months while in college). As they didn't have emails nor cell phones, we simply went to the neighborhood and looked for the shop. Unfortunately, they have since retired, but we did find a gigantic market that dwarves La Vega in Santiago. Best find of the day: Quinoa pancakes. We also found our inner tourists and took the teleferico to the observation decks atop Pinchincha. At 4,100 meters, the oxygen was a bit scarce, but the views plentiful. We watched the clouds creep over the city, a rainbow appear over the mariscal, and finally figured out where Tumbaco is in relation to the incredibly long and narrow city of about 2,000,000 people.

I'll post pictures this time on Picasa/Facebook. Promise.