Glimpse Into Life in the Valley

Here are a few pics from the last month. Enjoy!

My bedroom

View from our roof

Living room in the Manna House

Otavalo market

Krysta and I are intense with Ecuador bracelets

The boys are excited about their jerseys

Relaxing after cleaning the library

Graffiti artists liven up the Teen Center doors

Eating snacks on the library roof during summer camp

Gisela and I

Iori making a mess

Teaching kids about solids and liquids

Krysta and Esteeven excited about the pool

Paola in her oversized swimsuit and swim cap

Girls loving the green water and make-shift fence

Until next time!

Bottoms up!

Warning: for those with weak stomachs, you may not want to keep reading.

So intestinal issues are just one of the joys of living in a developing country. My digestion problems were, however, accompanied by another special gift... an anal fissure. Yep, I ripped my anus. I realize that this may not be the most appropriate of blog posts, but living in a house with 9 people who I work with and who know my every move has allowed me to be very open about the topic. It all started while I was still in Quito. I had some discomfort, but didn't find it alarming. It continued to get worse, and one day I decided to check out said problem. In the privacy of my own room, I took a picture of my backside. Two other pre-med students and myself then studied the picture and realized a doctor's visit was necessary.

After an amusing e-mail to Bibi (our awesome country director), we were off to the American doctor in a nearby town. While being examined, the absent minded doctor kept rushing out of the room because he forgot things like gloves and a flashlight, each time flinging the door wide with my exposed tush towards the world. I couldn't help but laugh. Well, he immediately diagnosed the problem, gave me a prescription of oatmeal baths and hydrocortisone cream, and sent me on my way. Two checkups later, I am proud to say that I am healed and happy to be done with the uncomfortable examinations.

I'm not sharing this information simply to be crude, but to express the comforts of the Manna House and the loving support I receive from my fellow PDs. When I got home the night of my doctor's appointment, I was given a cake... with a hole cut out of the center.

In all seriousness, I do feel as though we are becoming a unit. We are learning how to live and work with each other, but more importantly we are becoming a support system for each other. We share in each other's difficulties in learning the language, we share in the challenges of development, we share in the love for community members, we share in tears for injustice, we share encouragement, and we definitely have our fair share of jokes.

I'm a giant

This country was not made for us 5’10’’ gringas, and the following blog post will explain why.

1) Buses:

Sunday is the day where a couple of us head to the nearby city of Sangloqui to buy our produce from the outdoor market. The market is a sensory overload to say the least. The produce is fresh and ripe; I stopped in my tracks at the smell of some peaches. You can also smell quite the assortment of aromas from live animals or street food. Smell? Check. The market is bursting with color. There is literally a vegetable or fruit of any color you can think of. We have pink bananas! Not to mention anything you buy is put into pastel striped plastic bags. Sight? Check. There is music blasting from tiendas and children yelling prices from the family stand: “Pepinas, pepinas; un dolar, un dolar!!” Sound? Check. The best way to describe touch is to say that Ecuadorians are, well, more affectionate to strangers than us Americans. Lastly, taste. Yummmm (self-explanatory). I digressed. On the bus to Sangloqui this past Sunday, my head touched the roof. I had to duck when we hit bumps to make sure I didn’t give myself a concussion. Once we got off the bus in Sangloqui, my abnormal height was further reiterated. I had to practically crawl down the street to avoid getting an eyeball poked out by a tent. I also was smacked in the face with a bag of garlic that sits comfortably above any Ecuadorian’s head (they must need a step stool to get the bag down for customers).

2) Showers:

The shower head is fairly low, but definitely manageable. The problem with the shower isn’t as much the height as is the fact that it is electric. Yes, cold water comes through the pipes and is heated as it passes through the shower head. Not so bad, except for the electrical wires sticking out in running water… a little couter-intuitive. My height gives me trouble here, because I tend to electrocute myself when I try to stretch my arms up in the shower. Welp.

3) Mob breathing:

10 de agosoto was Quito’s independence. 2009 marked the country's bicentennial, so it was kinda a big deal. We went into town to find thousands of people crowding together in various plazas watching live performances and celebrating all things Quito. We ended the night by watching the Conocoto fireworks from our bedroom window. Feliz cumpleaños, Quito! Once we got we got to the main plaza ("plaza grande") where the president's house is, we listened to the national symphony and various other performers doing a sound check. There were balloons everywhere with people wearing light-up headbands and flags. We couldn't see the stage very well, so we moved towards the right edge of the plaza. All of a sudden people started chanting "CO-RRE-A" (the Pres. of Ecuador) and we joked about how he was going to come out of his house (that we're pretty sure he doesn't actually live in). Then... he emerged, and we were RIGHT in front of him, like 6 rows back. It was crazy. We were an arms’ length away watching him shaking hands and kissing babies. Immediately following was the worst stampede/mosh pit ever. Ecuadorians are sooo short and fat. They have such a low center of gravity that they just hit me at the knees and I would fall on top of someone. We had no personal space whatsoever, but unlike 99% of people in the crowd, I could breathe. This time my tall genes worked in my favor.

Overall, it seems that my height is still working in my favor. Thanks, dad!

Home Sweet Home

As I sit in my bed looking out the window towards a snow-capped Cotopaxi in the heart of the Andes, it's crazy to think that I left Greensboro almost a month ago. We moved into the house last weekend, and based on the messiness of my room, it seems that I really feel at home (that also could be the fact that there are 2 hangers in the closet). I love being in Conocoto. Besides being safer and less polluted, this is also a place to call home for the next year. Language classes were extremely helpful, and I was more than well fed at my homestay, but it's refreshing to be reminded that I'm not here as a tourist for the next year. My heart was so pulled in so many directions in Quito. My thoughts jumped from "What was I thinking? Am I insane?" to "I couldn't see myself anywhere else." Between my doubts in my spanish-speaking abilities and getting used to Dave, the roommates, or Mom not being a phone call away, I began to see the glimpses of hope that God has ordained this and called me here for a purpose. But moving to Conocoto gave me more comfort than just having a place to rest my head every night. We started working with the community members this week. The people we will be working with is why I'm here, it's what drives me.

We have held a summer camp for teens every morning, and we've helped the old PDs run the library in the afternoon. On top of that, I've been shaddowing Serena, the PD who taught Women's Exercise last year. Our group has a pretty heavy focus on health, but we all have varying interests in other programs as well. Although we don't yet know which programs we will be running, I have some sort of direction. At the same time I'm refusing to believe that the old PDs are head home in a week, leaving programs and the organization in our hands. It's a terrifyingly exciting transition time.

On Sunday I realized I was getting used to being an ex-pat in Ecuador when I was sitting on the roof watching a woman herding cattle down our street and didn't think it was anything out of the ordinary. Don't get me wrong, the squeaky rubbery cheese makes me long for the blue box mac and cheese. Yes, powdered, fake cheese is better than this sweaty substance. Let's just say dairy is not Ecuador's strong suit. The yogurt is liquidy and the milk is un-refridgerated and stored in a box.... yum. Also, it's second nature to throw my toilet paper away (the pipes aren't strong enough to flush tp), and I've stopped asking why people water their sidewalks. My favorite "where are we?" moment was when we loaded the bus for a weekend trip to Mindo (a little town in the cloud forest) a few weeks ago. When we get ready to load on, the bus attendant tells us that the door is broken, so we have to climb onto the bus through the window. So without questions, we climb up a ladder on the side of the bus through a window. 14 gringos, a crying baby, and some enthusiastic Ecuadorians through a window, and we were off to the cloud forest. 15 minutes down the road, magically the door opens. The attendant then proceeds to tell us that the door isn't in fact broken. Apparently that specific bus wasn't allowed to accept passengers at that stop, so making us climb through the window was the way around the rule. Who even knows?

All in all, I'll sacrifice cheese and the comfort of a normal bus boarding for the gorgeous views from my window and relationships with some awesome Ecuadorian folks who want to see change in their community. It's an adventure and I'm leaning on the promise that God's plan is flawless. He has already drawn me closer to Him, and I can't wait to see how He moves in the next year.

"He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them His way." --Psalm 25:9