For nearly three months, the gringos of Omnibus 106 had been an omnipresent presence in Tumbaco. Although we tried to blend in, a group of 62 foreigners in a relatively small town will undisputably make quite an impact. Thus, while the majority of Omnibus 106 ventured to their sites immediately after swearing in, those in TEFL remained in Tumbaco for another week in order to host a summer camp for area children. The three day event brought more than fifty youngsters to the compound for some English classes, relay races, mask-making, and other such debauchery. I, of course, ended up working with the youngest campers. Ostensibly, all should have been at least six-years-old since we only invited those over the age of six, but I somehow ended up with a raucious group of 15 or so youngsters ranging from 3-7. Needless to say, mayhem ensued. I hope they learned something; I certainly learned a lot...most importantly how to cajole farmers herding livestock down the street into allowing children to put their herds and how to (unsuccessfully) try to rent a pig.
Before the insanity commenced, Manny, Jarrett, Elizabeth and I went on a weekend jaunt to Mindo to relax for a bit before venturing to our sites. We left the compound shortly after lunch on Friday, expecting to arrive at the terminal about 1 hour later. Thus, imagine our surprise when the bus stopped roughly 10 minutes from the training center and the driver proceeded to lay down and take a twenty minute nap. This was no cat nap; the man was snoring. WTF? Once again, life seems to prove that anything can happen in Ecuador.
By 6:30, we had ventured deep into the cloud forests west of Quito and arrived in Mindo. After several weeks of the intense training regime, we welcomed the chance to relax, enjoy a good meal with friends, and spend the evening relaxing amid the chirping of insects and rustling of the breeze in the jungle leaves.
Early Saturday AM, we crawled out of bed after a sleepless night spent listening to roosters crowing (they start about 4 hours before dawn), drunk men bickering in the street, and mosquitos buzzing near our heads to venture around town. 1 treehouse, 1 abandoned house, and 3475938475 pictures later, we were sipping coffee and plotting the day's adventures.
After walking slightly outside town, we hired an ice cream vendor to take us to the cascades. Once we arrived at the park, we spent the day frolicking in waterfalls, meandering through rainforest vegetation, and hurtling over canyons in metal cages similar to telefericos. By nightfall, we were returning to town, gourging ourselves on another delicious meal, and relaxing in our hostel, refreshed but not quite ready to return to the real world and Peace Corps Summer Camp the next morning.
23.8.11
18.8.11
Seguimos Adelante
11 weeks, 38 PowerPoints, 67 papalotes, and 345324985 cups of coffee later, we did it. On August 17, the 62 volunteers of Omnibus 106 officially swore in as Peace Corps Volunteers officially swore in during a ceremony presided over by the charge du affairs from the US embassy (unfortunately, the ambassador is currently persona non-grata in Ecuador and couldn't attend the ceremony).
Following the ceremony, we celebrated. American-style. Not only did the Volunteer Advisory Council provide us with a make-your-own-sundae party, but we enjoyed a pretty intense game of kickball. Too soon, it was time to say good-bye as all non-TEFL volunteers departed for their sites. We're off soon enough though; after hosting a weeklong summer camp for area youth, we're climbing on our own buses and I'm heading to the jungle!
Following the ceremony, we celebrated. American-style. Not only did the Volunteer Advisory Council provide us with a make-your-own-sundae party, but we enjoyed a pretty intense game of kickball. Too soon, it was time to say good-bye as all non-TEFL volunteers departed for their sites. We're off soon enough though; after hosting a weeklong summer camp for area youth, we're climbing on our own buses and I'm heading to the jungle!
El diez de agosto y otras historias
Throughout the past week, the relative stillness of the Ecuadorian night has been interrupted by brilliant displays of fireworks in the darkened skies and the rhythmic thumping of salsa and cumbia music escaping from dozens of outdoor concerts. Why has there been so much hullaballoo? August 10, of course, the day of both my 22nd birthday and Ecuador's 201st one.
Given that August 10 fell on a Wednesday this year, much of the patriotic festivities were moved to the weekend and August 12 was declared feriado (aka no one has to work). Thus, August 10 was primarily reserved for my own (relatively sedate) celebrations. After consuming almost an entire cake as a means of distracting myself from some rather disconcerting pictures of various contagious diseases during a health lecture, a group of PCTs and I ventured to a nearby shwarma restaurant to chat, relax, and enjoy a dinner free from Ecuadorian staples (namely rice). Delicious. And some wonderful PCTs decided to indulge my two biggest vices, coffee and Chile, and gave me some excellent Ecuadorian coffee and Chilean wine. Some things never change -- my obsessions and my awesome birthdays whether occuring in Chile, the USofA, or Ecuador.
Given that Ecuador decided to celebrate its independance and birthday on the August 12, we enjoyed a long weekend and a break from training. Thus, my host parents and I journeyed to their farm in the cloud forests between the highlands of the sierra and the Amazon. The excitement began before leaving Tumbaco; due to the long weekend, my host mother and I could not find space on any buses passing through the suburb on their way to Napo. After hours of waiting, we finally found a driver willing to let us board, provided we squeezed into the front cabin with him. Thus, I spent the next few hours wedged between the shift and drivers' seat trembling in fear as the driver seemingly forgot to stay on the right side of the twisty mountain roads.
Luckily, we soon arrived in Cosanga and tumbled into bed given that our plans for the weekend began well before dawn. By 7:00 AM on Friday, I had learned to milk cows, drank fresh milk (boiled of course), climbed the mud mountain in search of pregnant cows, and helped with numerous household chores. We spent the rest of the day exploring nearby towns, fruitlessly searching for tropical birds, and bathing in the nearby river. As the sun set, we ventured to a nearby mirador for an unrivaled view towards the seemingly endless Amazon rainforest. On Saturday, we actually trekked to the edges of the rainforest. Not only did we frolic with monkeys in Misahualli (as well as snakes) and explore Tena, but we also spent hours practicing our detective skills as we hunted for one of my host father's elusive clients in Archiduna.
Throughout these many trips around Napo, I obviously enjoyed stunning views of the countryside. Yet, many of these panoramas were blighted...either by oil pipelines or desperate poverty. In regards to the pipes, huge metal structures bringing the oil from the Amazon to the coast line nearly all roads in the region. Not only is it an eyesore, but it's also a reminder that much of the economy is reliant on a resource that will soon disappear. Moreover, the Amazon regions have not benefited from the profits generated by the extractive economy; the vast majority of infrastructure and resources are concentrated in the coast and sierra. Yet, this many slowly be changing. It seems as if Correa's “Revolucion Ciudadania” is finally bringing investment to the region as the nearly every river is now spanned by a newly-constructed bridge alongside a large sign crediting Correa with the projects.
In addition to making the province more accessible to those coming from the sierra and the coast, the projects will hopefully generate economic development. As in other parts of Ecuador and Latin America (as well as much of the rest of the world), there is a sharp juxtaposition between the “haves” and “have-nots” in Ecuador. While various prosperous farms and haciendas dot the country, countless families also live in abject poverty. As a Peace Corps volunteer, I am obviously aware of this reality, yet it doesn't make it less upsetting to meet the 12 year-old children living on my host family's land who have already left school in order to work on the farm everyday. And I hope, in the next two years and beyond, I never become complacent and accept it as a part of life. If no one becomes upset, how will it ever change?
Given that August 10 fell on a Wednesday this year, much of the patriotic festivities were moved to the weekend and August 12 was declared feriado (aka no one has to work). Thus, August 10 was primarily reserved for my own (relatively sedate) celebrations. After consuming almost an entire cake as a means of distracting myself from some rather disconcerting pictures of various contagious diseases during a health lecture, a group of PCTs and I ventured to a nearby shwarma restaurant to chat, relax, and enjoy a dinner free from Ecuadorian staples (namely rice). Delicious. And some wonderful PCTs decided to indulge my two biggest vices, coffee and Chile, and gave me some excellent Ecuadorian coffee and Chilean wine. Some things never change -- my obsessions and my awesome birthdays whether occuring in Chile, the USofA, or Ecuador.
Given that Ecuador decided to celebrate its independance and birthday on the August 12, we enjoyed a long weekend and a break from training. Thus, my host parents and I journeyed to their farm in the cloud forests between the highlands of the sierra and the Amazon. The excitement began before leaving Tumbaco; due to the long weekend, my host mother and I could not find space on any buses passing through the suburb on their way to Napo. After hours of waiting, we finally found a driver willing to let us board, provided we squeezed into the front cabin with him. Thus, I spent the next few hours wedged between the shift and drivers' seat trembling in fear as the driver seemingly forgot to stay on the right side of the twisty mountain roads.
Luckily, we soon arrived in Cosanga and tumbled into bed given that our plans for the weekend began well before dawn. By 7:00 AM on Friday, I had learned to milk cows, drank fresh milk (boiled of course), climbed the mud mountain in search of pregnant cows, and helped with numerous household chores. We spent the rest of the day exploring nearby towns, fruitlessly searching for tropical birds, and bathing in the nearby river. As the sun set, we ventured to a nearby mirador for an unrivaled view towards the seemingly endless Amazon rainforest. On Saturday, we actually trekked to the edges of the rainforest. Not only did we frolic with monkeys in Misahualli (as well as snakes) and explore Tena, but we also spent hours practicing our detective skills as we hunted for one of my host father's elusive clients in Archiduna.
Throughout these many trips around Napo, I obviously enjoyed stunning views of the countryside. Yet, many of these panoramas were blighted...either by oil pipelines or desperate poverty. In regards to the pipes, huge metal structures bringing the oil from the Amazon to the coast line nearly all roads in the region. Not only is it an eyesore, but it's also a reminder that much of the economy is reliant on a resource that will soon disappear. Moreover, the Amazon regions have not benefited from the profits generated by the extractive economy; the vast majority of infrastructure and resources are concentrated in the coast and sierra. Yet, this many slowly be changing. It seems as if Correa's “Revolucion Ciudadania” is finally bringing investment to the region as the nearly every river is now spanned by a newly-constructed bridge alongside a large sign crediting Correa with the projects.
In addition to making the province more accessible to those coming from the sierra and the coast, the projects will hopefully generate economic development. As in other parts of Ecuador and Latin America (as well as much of the rest of the world), there is a sharp juxtaposition between the “haves” and “have-nots” in Ecuador. While various prosperous farms and haciendas dot the country, countless families also live in abject poverty. As a Peace Corps volunteer, I am obviously aware of this reality, yet it doesn't make it less upsetting to meet the 12 year-old children living on my host family's land who have already left school in order to work on the farm everyday. And I hope, in the next two years and beyond, I never become complacent and accept it as a part of life. If no one becomes upset, how will it ever change?
7.8.11
A La Playa
After spending our first technical trip surrounded by chaos and mayhem in Santo Domingo, the TEFL PCTs relaxed on the beach after spending the week working in public high schools in the coastal province of Santa Elena. Admittedly, the journey was long (approximately 15 hours in a bus), but most definitely worth it. Not only did we enjoy some free time to read and sleep as the bus zipped across the country, but we also enjoyed some great sites along the way including Chimborazo, a 5000+ meter snowcapped volcano, and dozens of houses on stilts.
During the days, we focused on co-teaching with local English teachers. Although it was difficult to build co-teaching relationships in only a few days, we divided tasks, shared insights, and practiced English. I question whether our brief stint truly revolutionized the English program, but it did motivate the students and introduce all to some pretty rocking English songs ranging from “The Hokey Pokey” to “If You're Happy and You Know It.” It definitely highlighted how much potential the TEFL program has when volunteers begin working with their co-teachers on a long-term basis.
After spending hours in the school working with English teachers, observing classes in other disciplines, and investigating behavioral problems alongside the DOBE (essentially the guidance counselor), we found a few moments to relax on the beach. Not only did we frolic in the waves, but we also saw local fishermen haul in their daily catch and return unedible fish into the sea as huge predatory birds circled overhead. Super chevere!
And, unlike in Santo Domingo, we never truly felt unsafe, perhaps because we seemingly had God watching over us at all time. As I lounged on the nearly vacant beach with another PCT, hoards of nuns stood on the boardwalk watching. At the time, the waves were small; at least 5 feet separated our towels, camaras, books, and journals from the closest waves. Unfortunately, they soon left and literally moments later a freak wave swept through, soaking everything. We obviously then retreated to the boardwalk, although it proved unnecessary. None of the subsequent waves reached our former perch. We must have needed those nuns after all.
Although we enjoyed our work in the colegio, our bizarre philosophical conversations, and our brief sojourns on the beach, the highlight of the trip was most certainly the final night. Given that we had to depart at 4:30 on Friday morning to return to Tumbaco, almost no one wanted to leave the hostel. As usual, I could not overcome my cabin fever and stay in; thus, another PCV and I began wandering around the small town of Ballenita at about 9:00 PM. Surprisingly, the usually lively town was almost silent. Everyone it seemed, had left the store fronts to go to a well-lit park nearby.
Unsure of what to expect, we decided to venture to the park and soon discovered that a girl's soccer game had captured the entire town's attention. This would not have proven particularly exciting in the United States. In Ecuador, however, machismo remains prevalent and women's sports are not particularly valued nor respected. Moreover, gender roles are sharply divided with women often relegated to the kitchen or home for fear of being labeled as a “karishina”--a women who does not know how to cook nor maintain the home (a concept still taken very seriously by many of our host families and neighbors). Thus, after listening to countless comments about women's roles as well as enduring untold numbers of piropos, it was pretty awesome to see an entire town supporting their young ladies as they participated in a healthy and worthwhile activity. Hopefully, the sport's program suggested by my counterpart will be as well received in Zamora.
After returning to Tumbaco, several other PCTs and I decided to spend Saturday touring Quito. Given that many of our sites our several hours away from the city, we won't be able to return frequently. Thus, we explored the many beautiful churches found in the historical district (reputed to be the best preserved one in South America), climbed the Panecillo and enjoyed stunning views of the city and nearby volcanos as young children frolicked with their kites in the park, and sipped on iced coffee (an extremely rare treat in South America.
By the time we had returned to Tumbaco, the sun had set, which usually means that the entirety of Tumbaco has closed for the night. Not this time however. In honor of the Ecuadorian independence day on August 10, the plaza had been transformed into a giant fiesta with blasting cumbia and salsa music with hoards of celebrants, with the night culminating in a giant display of fireworks much like those seen throughout the United States on July 4.
During the days, we focused on co-teaching with local English teachers. Although it was difficult to build co-teaching relationships in only a few days, we divided tasks, shared insights, and practiced English. I question whether our brief stint truly revolutionized the English program, but it did motivate the students and introduce all to some pretty rocking English songs ranging from “The Hokey Pokey” to “If You're Happy and You Know It.” It definitely highlighted how much potential the TEFL program has when volunteers begin working with their co-teachers on a long-term basis.
After spending hours in the school working with English teachers, observing classes in other disciplines, and investigating behavioral problems alongside the DOBE (essentially the guidance counselor), we found a few moments to relax on the beach. Not only did we frolic in the waves, but we also saw local fishermen haul in their daily catch and return unedible fish into the sea as huge predatory birds circled overhead. Super chevere!
And, unlike in Santo Domingo, we never truly felt unsafe, perhaps because we seemingly had God watching over us at all time. As I lounged on the nearly vacant beach with another PCT, hoards of nuns stood on the boardwalk watching. At the time, the waves were small; at least 5 feet separated our towels, camaras, books, and journals from the closest waves. Unfortunately, they soon left and literally moments later a freak wave swept through, soaking everything. We obviously then retreated to the boardwalk, although it proved unnecessary. None of the subsequent waves reached our former perch. We must have needed those nuns after all.
Although we enjoyed our work in the colegio, our bizarre philosophical conversations, and our brief sojourns on the beach, the highlight of the trip was most certainly the final night. Given that we had to depart at 4:30 on Friday morning to return to Tumbaco, almost no one wanted to leave the hostel. As usual, I could not overcome my cabin fever and stay in; thus, another PCV and I began wandering around the small town of Ballenita at about 9:00 PM. Surprisingly, the usually lively town was almost silent. Everyone it seemed, had left the store fronts to go to a well-lit park nearby.
Unsure of what to expect, we decided to venture to the park and soon discovered that a girl's soccer game had captured the entire town's attention. This would not have proven particularly exciting in the United States. In Ecuador, however, machismo remains prevalent and women's sports are not particularly valued nor respected. Moreover, gender roles are sharply divided with women often relegated to the kitchen or home for fear of being labeled as a “karishina”--a women who does not know how to cook nor maintain the home (a concept still taken very seriously by many of our host families and neighbors). Thus, after listening to countless comments about women's roles as well as enduring untold numbers of piropos, it was pretty awesome to see an entire town supporting their young ladies as they participated in a healthy and worthwhile activity. Hopefully, the sport's program suggested by my counterpart will be as well received in Zamora.
After returning to Tumbaco, several other PCTs and I decided to spend Saturday touring Quito. Given that many of our sites our several hours away from the city, we won't be able to return frequently. Thus, we explored the many beautiful churches found in the historical district (reputed to be the best preserved one in South America), climbed the Panecillo and enjoyed stunning views of the city and nearby volcanos as young children frolicked with their kites in the park, and sipped on iced coffee (an extremely rare treat in South America.
By the time we had returned to Tumbaco, the sun had set, which usually means that the entirety of Tumbaco has closed for the night. Not this time however. In honor of the Ecuadorian independence day on August 10, the plaza had been transformed into a giant fiesta with blasting cumbia and salsa music with hoards of celebrants, with the night culminating in a giant display of fireworks much like those seen throughout the United States on July 4.
And My New Hometown is...
And my new hometown is...
ZAMORA.
After weeks of anticipation and speculation, the site assignment ceremony had finally arrived on July 13. 60 PCTs and I stood alongside a map of Ecuador and fidgeted nervously as PC staff read off names and locations. Would I sweat as I read in my hammock in a coastal banana grove? Would I learn Kichwa while riding a horse through the Andean highlands? Would I try to sleep beneath a mosquito net as raindrops thudded against my roof?
Abruptly, my thoughts were interrupted as a loud voice announced my name. After what seemed like a eternal pause, it then announced my new home...Zamora.
Zamora is a small city of roughly 20,000 located in the transistion zone between the Amazon and the Andes. Affectionately known Known as the city of birds and waterfalls, it is absolutely stunning. Lush green vegetation covers the hills and red dirt paths meander past rivers and waterfalls.
The city itself lies alongside the intersection of two such rivers. It is orientated around an inordinately large clock, reputed to be the largest in the world, and consists of colorful concrete buildings often with partially constructed top floors. Near Rio Zamora, a river with a brownish hue due to local mining activity, the city has constructed a promenade or Malecon in an effort to attract tourists. It remains a work in progress, but definitely has the potential to be a great place to relax with friends.
With only this limited knowledge about my new home and my host mother's phone number, I climbed aboard a bus to trek to Zamora early Thursday morning. Luckily, several other PCTs had been posted to sites somewhat near mine so we could embark on the 18 hour journey together and enjoy stunning views of various volcanos, mountain hamlets, and colonial churches as the bus chugged through the Andes mountains.
Given Peace Corps policy prohibiting night travel for PCTs, we had a small pit stop in Cuenca on Thursday night. Although eager to arrive at our sites, Cuenca is stunning with dozens of historic churches, cobblestone roads, and great eats. I only wish we had more time to explore before embarking on the final leg our our journey.
About 7 hours later, the bus pulled into the terminal in Zamora. Within moments, I was swarmed by
my host nieces and nephews who wanted to give me a tour of the house, play soccer, and practice English with me simultaneously. My host mother finally calmed the niñitos before introducing me to the family. I have five host sisters between the ages of 16-30 as well as 6 nieces and nephews between 2-10, although only two sisters and two children live en casa.
After I settled in and gorged myself on a ridiculously delicious lunch, I journey to Colegio 12 de Febrero, where I will be teaching to meet with the rector and vice-rector (essentially the principal and assistant principal). Unfortunately, as it is summer vacation, I did not have the opportunity to meet with my teachers nor many students.
The majority of the weekend was, therefore, spent bonding with my host family. Whether frolicking in the rapids in a local river, journeying to my grandfather's farm outside Yantzaza (future home of two other PCTs), celebrating my host mother's Saint Day with a surprise shindig, or boating in Loja, so much laughter. The house was constantly in a state of (good) mayhem with so many children racing around by the energy was infectious and I had a phenomenal time. And whenever the chaos became slightly overwhelming, I could escape and go for a run along red-dirt roads surrounded by the rainforest. Too bad we had lost electricity (again) by the time I returned home and had to enjoy a freezing shower (we don't have hot water) in the pitch-black windowless bathroom upon my return. Regardless, the Peace Corps could not have found me a more perfect site.
Monday did, unfortunately, signify the end of the weekend and my return to work. After briefly meeting with the rector to discuss potential secondary projects (still TBD, but a girl's sports program seems likely), I spent hours meandering through the streets and constructing my community map. Not only do I now know where to find important resources, but I also found some of the most delicious bread I have eaten in Ecuador. Perfecto. Too soon, the workday rolled to a close and I had a brief meeting with the Provincial Minister of Education. My day wasn't completely over, however, as my host mom took me to the market and began introducing me to local vendors as her daughter. No gringo prices for me thank you very much.
Although I most certainly was not ready to leave, I climbed aboard a bus returning to Tumbaco early Tuesday morning full of excitement about my new home. At least I spent the next 18 or so hours comparing stories with other PCTs who joined us throughout the trek home.
Although Zamora remained tranquilo, the entire country passed through a brief crisis beginning Saturday. Throughout Ecuador, although primarily within the Province of Los Rios, dozens of individuals became deathly ill and many died after consuming punta, basically Ecuadorian moonshine. A devious entrepreneur, it appears, decided to spike his punta with industrial alcohol to increase its strength while simultaneously diminishing the costs of production. As fear spread regarding the quality of all punta in Ecuador, the government declared a “ley seca” banning alcohol for three days throughout the country. Surprising. And, like prohibition, almost impossible to enforce.
ZAMORA.
After weeks of anticipation and speculation, the site assignment ceremony had finally arrived on July 13. 60 PCTs and I stood alongside a map of Ecuador and fidgeted nervously as PC staff read off names and locations. Would I sweat as I read in my hammock in a coastal banana grove? Would I learn Kichwa while riding a horse through the Andean highlands? Would I try to sleep beneath a mosquito net as raindrops thudded against my roof?
Abruptly, my thoughts were interrupted as a loud voice announced my name. After what seemed like a eternal pause, it then announced my new home...Zamora.
Zamora is a small city of roughly 20,000 located in the transistion zone between the Amazon and the Andes. Affectionately known Known as the city of birds and waterfalls, it is absolutely stunning. Lush green vegetation covers the hills and red dirt paths meander past rivers and waterfalls.
The city itself lies alongside the intersection of two such rivers. It is orientated around an inordinately large clock, reputed to be the largest in the world, and consists of colorful concrete buildings often with partially constructed top floors. Near Rio Zamora, a river with a brownish hue due to local mining activity, the city has constructed a promenade or Malecon in an effort to attract tourists. It remains a work in progress, but definitely has the potential to be a great place to relax with friends.
With only this limited knowledge about my new home and my host mother's phone number, I climbed aboard a bus to trek to Zamora early Thursday morning. Luckily, several other PCTs had been posted to sites somewhat near mine so we could embark on the 18 hour journey together and enjoy stunning views of various volcanos, mountain hamlets, and colonial churches as the bus chugged through the Andes mountains.
Given Peace Corps policy prohibiting night travel for PCTs, we had a small pit stop in Cuenca on Thursday night. Although eager to arrive at our sites, Cuenca is stunning with dozens of historic churches, cobblestone roads, and great eats. I only wish we had more time to explore before embarking on the final leg our our journey.
About 7 hours later, the bus pulled into the terminal in Zamora. Within moments, I was swarmed by
my host nieces and nephews who wanted to give me a tour of the house, play soccer, and practice English with me simultaneously. My host mother finally calmed the niñitos before introducing me to the family. I have five host sisters between the ages of 16-30 as well as 6 nieces and nephews between 2-10, although only two sisters and two children live en casa.
After I settled in and gorged myself on a ridiculously delicious lunch, I journey to Colegio 12 de Febrero, where I will be teaching to meet with the rector and vice-rector (essentially the principal and assistant principal). Unfortunately, as it is summer vacation, I did not have the opportunity to meet with my teachers nor many students.
The majority of the weekend was, therefore, spent bonding with my host family. Whether frolicking in the rapids in a local river, journeying to my grandfather's farm outside Yantzaza (future home of two other PCTs), celebrating my host mother's Saint Day with a surprise shindig, or boating in Loja, so much laughter. The house was constantly in a state of (good) mayhem with so many children racing around by the energy was infectious and I had a phenomenal time. And whenever the chaos became slightly overwhelming, I could escape and go for a run along red-dirt roads surrounded by the rainforest. Too bad we had lost electricity (again) by the time I returned home and had to enjoy a freezing shower (we don't have hot water) in the pitch-black windowless bathroom upon my return. Regardless, the Peace Corps could not have found me a more perfect site.
Monday did, unfortunately, signify the end of the weekend and my return to work. After briefly meeting with the rector to discuss potential secondary projects (still TBD, but a girl's sports program seems likely), I spent hours meandering through the streets and constructing my community map. Not only do I now know where to find important resources, but I also found some of the most delicious bread I have eaten in Ecuador. Perfecto. Too soon, the workday rolled to a close and I had a brief meeting with the Provincial Minister of Education. My day wasn't completely over, however, as my host mom took me to the market and began introducing me to local vendors as her daughter. No gringo prices for me thank you very much.
Although I most certainly was not ready to leave, I climbed aboard a bus returning to Tumbaco early Tuesday morning full of excitement about my new home. At least I spent the next 18 or so hours comparing stories with other PCTs who joined us throughout the trek home.
Although Zamora remained tranquilo, the entire country passed through a brief crisis beginning Saturday. Throughout Ecuador, although primarily within the Province of Los Rios, dozens of individuals became deathly ill and many died after consuming punta, basically Ecuadorian moonshine. A devious entrepreneur, it appears, decided to spike his punta with industrial alcohol to increase its strength while simultaneously diminishing the costs of production. As fear spread regarding the quality of all punta in Ecuador, the government declared a “ley seca” banning alcohol for three days throughout the country. Surprising. And, like prohibition, almost impossible to enforce.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)