Mom and Dad come to Ecuador!!

Coming soon...Lots to say and pictures to share.

For now, just one.

First day in the jungles of Puyo. Hiked way up to the ¨Mirador¨for a breathtaking view of the rivers and jungle below.

Wrapping up Semester One

I´m an English Teacher??
So, I made it. I came into this teaching program in Ecuador as a college graduate with a BS in Graphic Communication with no official training in how to teach English at University level. The first couple months were hard and I questioned my ability to teach almost every day. Lesson planning took me hours and despite all the hard work, lessons still didn’t run as smoothly as they had been planned. But, and I can’t quite pinpoint when this happened, I became a Profesora de Ingles, for real. My lesson planning time became shorter and shorter. I built up a confidence that allowed me to walk into the classroom without every minute and every detail planned and, amazingly, these were the best days of class. I definitely still had some horrible days as a teacher where I questioned my ability to be in the position I was in, but as the semester came to an end, I truly believe that my students learned from me. They put aside my fears of their hatred for my classes by asking if I would be teaching the next level and I know it was not for the reason of avoiding my classes because on the last day, one of my students said to me “ Miss, it would be really great to have you again.”

The class that really pulled through and proved they had learned was my level eight conversation class. They had never been my favorite and I struggled in the beginning to facilitate a class primarily filled with speaking practice that was entertaining. Getting some of the students to speak was like pulling teeth and this was the final level of the entire English program!

As the class neared its end I decided to really put my students on the spot and make them realize their ability as English speakers. The last unit I designed for the course was centered on the idea of a debate and all it entails. My students learned to recognize and use common statements for agreeing and disagreeing and then were warmed up to the task of a debate by performing mini debates in small groups. I borrowed a brilliant idea from Bryce to divide groups into three smaller groups. One group stands for Agree, the second for Disagree, and the third group represents a jury which then decides the verdict (who wins the debate). We started off small and I gave them simple arguments such as “ It is better to have a job where you work overtime and make lots of money or to have a part-time job where you make little money but have much more time to spend with your family.” They loved the mini debates more than I had anticipated and I looked forward to the grand finale of the entire class debates.

For the final I split the class into three groups. Each group had to come up with a debate topic for the final debate day. The chosen debate topic would then be discussed between the two other groups and the group that created the topic would serve as the jury. I gave the groups complete freedom to choose topics and stressed the fact that debates are not limited to serious topics and that funny and simple topics were welcome as well. Well, my class decided to get themselves involved in some serious debates and created more work for themselves than I had planned by choosing the following topics: Abortion should be legal in Ecuador, The use of Euthanasia should be permitted in Ecuador, and Gay Marriage should be allowed in Ecuador.

Based on the topics of choice I worried for the big debate day in which I would be grading each student on his or her performance as part of the final grade. As soon as the first debate began I realized I had not enough faith in my students. They absolutely blew me away and it was obvious they had put real time and effort into preparing for what turned out to be three intense, intelligent and impressive debates. I knew they were good when I found myself subconsciously agreeing with a team to which, in actuality, I disagreed with the statement. I will never forget this last day of debates with level eight. My students showed me just how hard they were willing to work for my class and made me realize just how rewarding it can be to see
students demonstrate the knowledge and skills I have helped them achieve.

It´s been a long time but life is still funny...

Tommy Hilfiger, the Real Deal
Top clothing designers are really popular in Ecuador or rather the knock-off versions of top designers’ famous designs and logos. So long as you own an embroidery machine in Ecuador, you are entitled to produce your own version of Tommy (the favorite by far), Juicy, Polo, whatever. American brands are admired in Ecuador as many other American traditions have made an impression on culture here. It´s very trendy to wear shirts with sayings (written in English) on them. This was, and maybe still is, a popular trend in the U.S. but even more so here. The shirts often read typical things such as “ I love my boyfriend,¨¨What do you think you’re looking at?” and my personal favorite “ Cool is a girl’s best friend” (proudly worn by a mid-30’s student of mine).

Backstreet’s Back
Yet another American influence on culture here is music. English music is just as popular as the latest and greatest Latin pop and reggaton. However, the English hits here are about 10+ years old hits in the States. While walking through the Hiper Market (picture the Wal-Mart of Ecuador) I can’t help but hum along with popular hits of the 90’s blaring from the loudspeakers. I’m taken back to middle school days with the sounds of Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears (old day, not new), Boyz to Men, Mariah Carey, and Whitney Houston.

Would you like cola with that?
Ecuadorians LOVE soda. Meals are always accompanied with little glasses of soda. Now, this may not be so different from the likes of people back home but there is one big difference in the preference of sodas here. Ecuadorian soda flavors consist of apple, orange, strawberry, and bubblegum (not actually titled with this flavor but once determined by a friend of mine as resembling the taste of bubblegum). Of course, Coca Cola is as popular as ever as in any country anywhere.

I can’t talk about the importance of soda in the life of an Ecuadorian without mentioning the most important drinking device of the tiny paper-thin plastic cup also known as the “vasito.” Though larger plastic cups do exist, they are hard to come by and, in reality, I think the people here prefer the tiny little cup. When I say tiny, I’m talking 4oz tiny. Two gulps tiny. And the plastic is so thin; you can easily crush the entire vasito in one hand with one slight squeeze. Maybe the fun of the vasito is having to refill it five times before your thirst is quenched. Who knows.

Life is funny...especially in a foreign country

Been single, had a boyfriend, now I´m married
Think you can guess the number one question male strangers in Ecuador like to ask me? Are you single or married? Soltera o casada? They manage to ask me this question even if it’s in the span of a three-minute cab ride. Well, I lied. The number one question is “Where are you from?” since it’s obvious I’m not from Ecuador but that’s an obvious number one anywhere you may be in this world. Single or married? I wouldn’t say this one is as common worldwide. My naivety to the reasoning for the asking of such a question has now passed. However, in the beginning, to be kind and offer conversation I would answer: “single.” But the answer, single, is the gateway to a series of rather uncomfortable follow-up questions. It’s as if there’s a manual that tells every Ecuadorian male exactly what to say and in what order to say it if a girl should respond, “single.” It goes like this:

Ecua: Single or married? Soltera o casada?
Me: Single
Ecua: I don’t believe you. No te creo.
Me: uhhh, ummmm, si. (This is my response to many many questions in Ecuador)
Ecua: you don’t have a boyfriend in the U.S? Nor in Ecuador?
Me: uhhhh, no.
Ecua: But what do you think of Ecuadorian men? Would you want a boyfriend in Ecuador?
Me: uhhhhh, hmmmmm, noo… (Trying to be polite here).
Ecua: (offended) Well, why not. Ecuadorian men are nice.
Me: yeahhhhh, well, (very drawn out), yeah, I guess I would consider it. (Politeness taken as an invitation). *This is when I pretend I don’t know very much Spanish and cannot understand the remainder of the uncomfortable conversation.

I kid you not; this short conversation is repeated, word for word, on a weekly basis. Well, it was, but I have been figuring out how to put an end to it. First I tried inventing a boyfriend in the U.S. If you are a boy friend of mine from back home, I have most likely fabricated you into a relationship that does not actually exist between us. It’s easier to make up a story about someone I can picture in my head rather than a complete character of my imagination. The “fact” that I have a boyfriend in the U.S. isn’t enough to end the conversation. They want to know all about him. After another series of questions about this supposed boyfriend, they come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter; he’s in the U.S. You can have more than one boyfriend, you know…which is an opinion commonly acted upon in Ecuador.

Boyfriend in the U.S. didn´t work. So I moved on to a husband (yes, guy friends at home, you are now my husbands). Surprise! It makes no difference. It’s the same story. Why can’t you have a husband in the U.S. and a boyfriend in Ecuador, they ask.

The final solution to the problem of avoiding the awkward marital status question? I now have an imaginary boyfriend, or even more than one, in Ecuador. This answer seems to always end the inquisition. There may be a few follow-up questions about this guy, but overall, it just pleases the inquisitor that I have chosen his country over mine.

Tight Jeans
The clothing styles of Ecuadorian women are definitely different than those of women in the U.S. I often wonder if I would stand out more as a gringa dressed as myself, or a gringa dressed as an Ecuadorian. I choose myself because I would never be comfortable in the skin-tight, bright, somewhat dressy, and unforgiving clothes the average Ecua woman wears on a daily basis. I swear every woman in Ecuador wears size 2 jeans, no matter her size. And the shirts never meet the waste . This fashion would never pass school dress code in the States. Aside from the jeans, they wear high heels all day, every day. They wear them to the grocery store, the park, school, work, you name it. It’s an amazing sight to see Ecuadorian women navigating the under-constructed streets of Machala. If I were to try the heels, I would average five falls per day, I’m sure.

Mall-Walking
When I was a kid, I often spent early weekday or Saturday mornings cruising the Capitola Mall with Nana and Papa before all the stores opened. This activity was known as the very popular (among the elderly) “Mall-walking.” I never expected to revisit this activity until many more years later in my life when I might perhaps carry on the tradition with my grandkids. Machala, however, has caused the premature occurrence of mall-walking in my life. Machala has a new mall, which they are very proud of. It’s small, but new and modern and most importantly, has air conditioning. On days when the heat is brutal (it’s becoming an everyday occurence), the mall is one of the most popular places to spend the afternoon in coolness and comfort. If you go to the mall on a blistering afternoon, you may not find a single parking space and you will join the masses of people strolling up and down the one long, rectangular pathway of the mall without ever entering a store.

The job of a policeman
One of the greatest mysteries of Machala is the job and duties of the policemen. I see them all the time but I never know what they are doing. I had thought there were no speed limits in Machala because I never saw any signs. Turns out, there are speed limits, but no one pays attention because the police never regulate.

There was just a new law passed about driver and front-seat passenger wearing seatbelts. Seatbelts? What are seatbelts? You can hardly find a functioning or visible seatbelt in a car here…My family seems to be concerned about this new seatbelt law, but I really don’t think the police are going to take action on those who are not wearing it. I ask people here to tell me more about the job of a policeman. No one really knows what the job entails. But they do know one thing. If you happen to get pulled over on the roads, hand over a $20 (literally, there’s a going rate), and you’ll be off the hook. This has lead me to conclude that the police are self-employed scam artists. In need of $40? No problem, pull over two cars for the day and you’re set.

BBQ
Ecuadorians love their barbeque. It’s easy to find a parillada (bbq) restaurant on any street in Machala. I have learned, after having been invited to several parillada dinners at friend’s houses, that the barbeque in Ecuador is different than that which I am used to from home. If invited to a BBQ you must go on an empty stomach because, without fail, you will be served up a plate of at least three kinds of meat. If you’re not good at making decisions regarding meat preference, there are no worries here. You are guaranteed a plate of pork, beef, chicken and sausage and…. rice.

Off to school...in a boat
The rains are starting to hit Machala pretty hard. I wake up to the powerful sound of it on the roof every night. The cool, fresh, calming sensation of the rain is put to rest upon waking in the morning to dirty, muddy, flooded streets. But, the high-intensity rays of the Machaleñ0 sun do their best to dry up street rivers. But, there is one street in Machala that takes a little longer than the rest. This just so happens to be good ol´Diez de Agosto, home to the Instituto de Idiomas (aka: my work).

I rode the bus in confidence to school, sure that the street would be accessible, despite earlier warnings that the gates to the school had not been able to open earlier that morning. As I rode through Machala, I noticed how most streets were in decent condition considering the torential rains that had hit the night before. Even rounding the corner of Diez de Agosto, the streets were fine...until 2 blocks from the Institute. I had to hop off the bus early only to find that I was stranded. School was in my viewpoint but I quickly realized, it was not, and was not going to be, within my grasp. I stood on a little dry patch of sidewalk staring and wondering just how I might make it that way. As I was thinking, another bus drove by forcing the waters of the middle street to subside to the edges of the street, thus washing over my feet and ankles. At this point, I turned around, walked a few blocks back to the dry land, and hitched a ride on the bus back home, having a greater understanding of why it is teachers, never students, are never happy to have school cancelled...especially on a test day.

More Pictures!

Puerto Bolívar sunset, Machala

Cascadas de Manuel. Day trip with some students.

Thanksgiving with Level 4. This is the full group shot with my largest class.

The purpose of this picture is to show you a clear picture of the interior of my classroom, not to show you the energy and excitement that I bring into the classroom. I call it bare bones and that´s no exagerration. The walls are in desperate need of a paint job. The desks are incredibly old and made of heavy metal that makes the most awful sound when dragging them across the concrete floor. The tops of the desks are covered in notes from past attempts at cheating throughout the years. The ¨window¨up to the right is an open vent out to the courtyard. Since I teach at the University´s Liberal Arts Institute, I share a small courtyard of classrooms with the music classes and the dance classes. Right outside the vents in the picture is where the music class loves to practice their dance routine at which point I have no option but to have my students work individually because my voice cannot be heard above the rhythms of traditional Ecuadorian folklore music. I then stand at the door and stare at the dance class and instructor until he gives me the signal that means he´s sorry and that they´re almost done. It´s all in a days work!

Some Light-weight Entertainment

You’ve gotten fat…
As much as I pride myself on being someone who can easily adjust and accept cultural differences, there is one difference here, in Ecuador, that I can’t wrap my head around, let alone be an active participant. Coming from a society where it’s just not acceptable to make comments regarding one’s personal appearance to his or her face, I cringe every time I hear someone here make a comment about someone’s appearance…usually pertaining to weight. In the U.S. we’ve been raised and told that it’s rude to give someone the truth to their face and, in turn, we have learned to take offense to seemingly “negative” comments. I think, the difference here, is that these comments were never learned as “negative”, but merely observations. Make sense?

To make my words more clear, here are just a few examples:

People commonly call for other’s attention by yelling out “gordita” (little fat one). Or in conversation, when referring to someone else who’s name you may not know but you do know their weight, you can simply say “oh yeah, you know, the gordita or the flaco (skinny one). This kind of name-calling would not fly in the U.S. but it’s simply a term of endearment here.

Almost every day, while eating lunch, my host mom or sister mentions how they are getting fat and need to be strict with their diet. This then leads them into conversation about which of their friends and acquaintances have recently gained weight. The other day, my host brother was over for lunch and his sister told him how his wife is getting fat. Sounds awful, right? Well, it must be that the words, “you are fat” or “she is getting fat,” just don’t hold the same negative connotations we assign to them in the U.S.

There is a typical dish here called “Guatita.” It is kind of a soupy dish with potatoes, vegetables and the “guata¨ some sort of cow innards (I think tripe). Everyone likes to ask me if I have tried it yet. North Americans are notorious for not liking it, I guess. Well, my time came to try guatita, and I wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity. I have created high standards for myself among my host family for liking their food. I just so happen to not be a picky eater, which they had yet to experience with their past volunteer guests. They love to tell all of their friends how “Katy eats EVERYTHING!” which always gets a reaction of surprise and awe from those who have just been told the news.

Anyways, back to the Guatita…I gave it a first try. It was okay, but just knowing (or not really knowing for sure) what it was, didn´t allow me, mentally, to like it. I tried to understand just what part of the cow was used. Upon asking, my host mom decided to show me rather than tell by reaching over and pinching the fat of my stomach! I jumped back out of shock to which my host mom interpreted as her physically hurting me by pinching too hard…there´s no such thing as invasion of personal privacy here. That’s just the way things go here. Everyone is always pinching everyone’s fat, literally.

They’re always pinching their own fat as well. While hanging out with a few of my students, one points out how another has gotten fat, to which he responds by grabbing his gut, and saying, “yep, look how fat I am.”

One more example. This is a good one! In my advanced conversation class, my students are currently working on short presentations. The assignment was to choose a favorite song (many of them have favorite songs in English) and present the song to the class while explaining its importance and meaning. One of my middle-aged students, Consuelo, is, though very quiet in class, quite a character. She presented the song “Far From Over” by Frank Stallone, a song made known from the Rocky movies. The song is fast paced, and for Consuelo, a source of inspiration. She pulled out two pictures, in which there was an obvious weight difference between the two. She then proceeded to tell how when she was younger she was skinny (here she shows skinny picture), then how she gained a lot of weight (now the after (heavier) picture). In English it would’ve sounded like this: “When I was younger, I was skinny and then I got really fat. Check out these pictures…wow was I fat!” After gaining so much weight, she decided to start up an exercise routine to the theme song from Rocky…she had the class, including me, in hysterics.

Just Say, “YES”
While living a few short months in Ecuador, I have developed a philosophy of saying “yes” to most, if not all invitations I receive. Being on my own, in terms of language, friends, and the comforts of home, has taught me the importance of having an open-mind and willingness to do or try anything. So far the “just say yes,” policy has worked well for me with the exception of accepting a dinner invitation to a male friend’s house. I immediately felt as though I was being looked at as the next best thing to walk into this guy’s life, if you know what I mean. By the time I left, I had taken pictures with the family and the guy, been given a flower by the mom, received another dinner invitation, and had politely declined an invitation for an after dinner walk in the park with the guy. A walk in the park in the dark is certainly not a ¨just friends¨ activity here.

This past weekend was booked to the max thanks to saying “yes.” I may have overdone it…

Friday night, the university had a staff Christmas party. It was lots of fun and a good opportunity to meet the rest of the English teachers, many of whom I have never met before. We ate, exchanged Secret Santa gifts (conveniently, out of 30 or so professors, Bryce and I had chosen each other…definitely rigged), and then danced. There’s not even the option of saying no to dancing. You’ve just gotta do it, and do it well. When they say dance, I dance. When they push me in the center of the circle with a dancing partner/stranger, I do it.

After the school party, a few of my students came by to pick me up and take me to a graduation party. One of my students had graduated from the marketing program of the University and the graduating class was having a private party at a club downtown. We headed over there and danced the night away, surprise, surprise. I have, no exaggeration, never danced for as many consecutive hours as I danced that night. I usually am ready to leave a couple hours before we ever do, but I never want to leave alone, so I force a second wind upon myself and keep dancing.

Saturday, I spent most of the afternoon at the church helping with the Christmas Pageant rehearsal (more on this spectacle later) and later went to a wedding that a student of mine had invited me to. It was actually the wedding of her sister. My new Ecuadorian friends are so eager to introduce me and include me in anything and everything. I met the family, took pictures with the bride, danced with her brother and some other strangers. Again, I didn’t even attempt to resist the invitations to dance. It’s becoming a weekly occurrence for me to dance with complete strangers and actually have fun doing it.

It’s tradition, if alcohol is served at the reception, at weddings to place a bottle of whisky, a bottle of sparkling water, and a bucket of ice on each table. It’s all or nothing at these weddings. Your options are straight whisky, straight water, or a combination of the two. I tried to leave the wedding reception early since I didn’t really know anyone and I was really looking forward to getting some sleep. However, and I knew this would happen, when I tried to politely leave, I was told to just wait and eat the dinner first (remember Ecuadorian wedding dinners are served at 1 am). How dare I try to leave before they give me some food…I should’ve never tried. I finally was able to sneak out by 3 am stuffed with wedding foods and with cake and party favor (another bride/groom cake topper to add to the wedding souvenir collection) in hand.

Sunday, I woke up early to meet some of my students for a paseo (trip) to the waterfalls just outside of Machala. Only 45 minutes out of town, you can find yourself surrounded in beautiful and tropical nature. One of my student’s dads gave us a ride in his truck, guys in the back, girls in the front. Just minutes into our drive out of Machala, the guys in the back start serving up beer in little plastic cups in which they pass from the back of the truck to the passenger in the front. To my relief, the driver declined his little cup of beer. I just held onto mine, which didn’t go over well with the bumpy, windy road to the waterfalls. Most of my beer ended up on my legs. This was before 10 am!!

The waterfalls were beautiful. We saw 7 waterfalls out of eight in only a 30-minute uphill hike. As hard as we tried to find the 8th waterfall, it would not show itself. We found out later that we had actually seen the 8th but it was the 6th that the trail had been closed off too because of extreme danger. I wouldn’t say I felt any extreme danger at any point but the rocks that scattered the trail were so slick. All of us took a fall at one point or another but I had the fall of the day which landed me, fully clothed, into a deep pool of water at the base of one of the falls. This is still a high-light of conversation among my friends.

After a long day at the falls, I wanted more than anything to just pass out in my bed but I had already promised my presence at a baby’s first birthday. So, with no break in between events, I headed over the party where I was immediately grabbed by one of the hired clowns to participate in some sort of dance competition. The one event I had thought I would escape the dancing this weekend, but nope, I even was forced to dance with a children´s party clown! My family and friends (of the church) were amused and captured plenty of pictures of the whole scene. I’ll be sure to share once I see these pictures for myself!

And that’s what you call a jam-packed weekend. With Christmas and New Year´s just around the corner, I´m sure the festivities will continue. Time to buy some new dancing shoes and extra strong coffee!

Picture Highlights!

Bryce and I found a bunch of bananas in this restaurant in Quito. It was suggested we take a picture together as the Banana King and Queen since we were soon to be moving to Machala, ¨Banana Capital of the World¨, together.

Thanksgiving with my level 5 class. This is the most easygoing and calm class I teach...only 12 students.

From the trip to the Amazon. Our guide made us crowns to wear during the hike, then handed me his machete to hold while he was busy trying to get a fruit from a tree for us to taste.

All the girls of the group during orientation in Quito. We outnumber the guys...by a lot!

Chelsea, my roomate for the first month in Quito, and I hiking in a park called Papallacta. I miss her a lot. Machala is a good 11 hour bus ride from Quito making it nearly impossible for us to visit each other.